#extended hospital stay is a good way to put it

[saintobio]

sincerely yours. (9)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after. 

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+ 

tags/warnings. profanity, usage of alcohol, mentions of cheating, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationship, explicit smut

series masterlist -> episode ten

Satoru had a major problem. 

And it was his self-control. His lack of self-control was the reason he had engaged himself in an adulterous relationship back when he was married. His lack of self-control was the reason why you had become the recipient of his unreasonable anger in the early stages of your marriage. His lack of self-control was the reason why, out of all the women in the world, he was now sleeping with a friend of yours. For God’s sake, his lack of self-control was probably the reason why you were also pushed to your limits, choosing to cut your marital ties with him and leaving only the scraps of his role as a parent to Sachiro.

Back when he was attending his weekly therapy sessions, his therapist told him that part of what he needed to learn was to control his impulses, resist temptations, and actively exercise his willpower. They were easier to achieve then than now, since he was the loneliest man at the time with no friends, no wife, no son, and no bustling company to run. His decisions remained untainted, his temptations unchallenged, his emotions uninfluenced—a solitary journey at its finest. He was all by himself. How come? It was because he was sent by his mom to Osaka to temporarily seclude him from his harrowing memories in Tokyo, compelling him to sever ties with the outside world and immerse solely in personal convalescence. Reflecting now, it felt no different than being sent to a psychiatric hospital.

He could say it worked at the time. He learned how to keep his emotions at bay. He learned how to control his thoughts, throwing away the bad and keeping only the good. He was a new man by the time he returned to Tokyo, prepared as ever to take on his role as the Chairman of the Gojou Group, ready to once again try and live a normal life. But the moment news had spread about his ex-wife's marriage to his business rival, all the self-control he had painstakingly cultivated seemed to have evaporated in an instant.

Everything also went downhill after that. 

He wasn’t going to list down all of the things that happened nor the impact it had on him since you yourself were a witness to them. But if he was going to look at the way your return has changed the trajectory of his life 3 years after you first left, he would still at a hundred percent put all the blame on his shoulders. None of this domino effect would end up like this if he had been a faithful and loving husband in the first place. The pressure from his father was not the only root of all this, the branches also extended to his corporate greed which ultimately ruined his chance at a fruitful marriage with you. 

But at least, the chaos should have settled by now. You chose to move forward and he decided to respect your decision by finding his way to another. This should free you both from the emotional torture that had you imprisoned in each other's cage for the longest time. He would still be there for you as the father of your child, but otherwise, he was happy that you had Toji Zen’in by your side to fill in the marital gaps that he had failed to complete. 

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. The warm water fell on his body in rivulets, soaking him completely so early in the morning as he decided to take a long shower. For how long? He couldn’t tell. He could stay there for hours if need be. He had to let his mind wander on its own, with a hand pressed against the wall, and another stroking his white hair back. Despite accepting the fact that Toji now owned your love and affection… well, wasn’t that son of a gun too lucky? Did he even realize that the woman he would marry was once Satoru’s entire universe? 

Ah, but who cares? Satoru scoffed inwardly, leaning his head back to let the water hit his face. He had Akemi, so why did it matter if you had Toji? He wasn’t bitter. He was just trying to reason with himself that you deserved to be with someone you really, truthfully loved. And he deserved that, too. Maybe not now, but at the perfect time, he could relive the life of a married man after learning from his mistakes the hard way. A much better one. A married man who would never in his life betray, hurt, or ruin his partner. A doting husband who would offer his whole life just to make her happy. He promised to himself that Akemi should have that kind of man from him. 

Though, he could ask himself, how far was he from achieving that? He did practice his self-control last night when joined you in the pool—his face, inches away from you. Hand gripping your hip. Eye-to-eye. Skin-to-skin. Your warm breath fanning his cheek. Just another step forward and your lips would touch. But he didn’t let that happen. He mustered all of his power to pull back from the gravity that was drawing him closer to you. Still, he couldn’t deny that you looked absolutely gorgeous last night. As the moonlight illuminated your face, he could swear that the stars also sparkled on your eyes. They must be from the tears you were desperately holding back, but either way, you were still so goddamn beautiful. He almost couldn’t keep his eyes off you last night and had to distract himself from looking at your lips, your collarbone, your chest, your curves…

“Fuck.” 

Talk about self-control. 

Satoru had none of that right now. His body reacted involuntarily to the thought of you last night. The sensual thought of you. The what-ifs.

What if he had wrapped your legs around his waist and enveloped your lips into a passionate kiss? 

He took a deep breath, still holding onto the wall as his other hand traveled to his growing member. 

What if he had carried you all the way into the living room and laid you naked on the couch? 

Closing his eyes, his hand started moving on its own, stroking his hardened cock and feeling every ridge as he pleasured himself. 

What if you had let him devour you? Let him roll his tongue on your entrance and taste your sweet, sweet flesh? 

Gojou let out a moan. A quiet yet desperate moan when he continued to jerk himself off faster and rougher. Damn it. He had to keep it low and he better not be heard committing such a sin in the bathroom. Although, he was confident that you were still sound asleep next to Sachiro in your bedroom, so he didn't think you would hear the noise he was making.

After all, it was shameless to know what was driving his feral thoughts right now. Thoughts of you letting him slide his tip along your entrance. Thoughts of him ramming his cock inside your tight cunt, being squeezed by your soft, velvet walls. Thoughts of your breasts bouncing wildly as he continued to hit your most sensitive spot. Fuck. Faster. He would have taken you on all fours, too. He would have let you ride his hardened shaft. He would have pressed you against the sofa and put your legs above his shoulders, letting you milk his cock with the tightness of your cunt. Satoru would release his warm seed into you in every position. He would shoot every drop of his cum straight to your womb, no doubt impregnating you for the second time around. He would absolutely love that. He would love seeing the residues of his wanton desire for you seeping out of your pussy. He would be at bliss watching your belly grow a few months after that, knowing that he had created yet another beautiful life inside of you. 

“Y/N…” 

Awakened by his senses, Satoru opened his eyes and saw the sticky white mess on his hand and on the wall. What the hell did he just do? More importantly, what the hell was he thinking of? 

No one should know about that. Not you, not even Akemi. He didn’t cheat on her, no. He didn’t do anything with you. That shouldn’t be counted as cheating. He didn’t even touch you. And he wasn't even officially dating Akemi.

No, no… 

Absolutely not.

Drowning into a pool of guilt, the first thing he did after that sinful shower session was to contact his supposed girlfriend not-girlfiend. And to make things even more awkward, you entered the kitchen in silence at the right time, carrying a sleepy Sachiro in your arms, unaware of the dilemma that was sending your ex-lover into a spiral.

“Morning,” he greeted almost inaudibly, clearing his throat and taking a sip of coffee afterwards. He had to think straight. 

“Morning,” was your simple and oblivious reply as you went about your daily morning routine. 

Gojou, on the other hand, was typing on his phone because Akemi wasn’t answering his FaceTime calls. He had completely forgotten to update her all day because he had been a little bit too occupied the moment he landed in America. She must be overthinking why he hadn’t reached out to her until now, and he felt extremely awful and responsible for that, but she couldn’t be fast asleep that early, right? It was 7:00 a.m. in New York, so that meant it was only 9:00 p.m. back home. 

He nervously rang her number once more, mumbling a ‘please answer’ as he watched her caller ID appear on the screen. 

“Dada,” called Sachiro, looking at him as his mother sat him on the high chair to prepare his breakfast. 

Still holding his phone, Satoru walked to his son and placed a gentle kiss on his tiny forehead. “Morning, Sachi. Did you sleep well?” 

The toddler nodded at him, drinking milk from the baby bottle that he was holding with both hands. His eyes were wide and blue—quite the same hues of blue that would remind you of a clear sky. Satoru couldn’t help but pinch his adorable son’s cheeks. 

And while you were busy picking out food from the pantry, Akemi finally answered his call after the fourth attempt and showed her beautiful, soft features on the screen. His eyes immediately lit up at the sight of her. “Hey, how are you?” 

He could tell she was still a bit distant and upset because of what happened two weeks ago, when she claimed to have heard him say your name during his sleep. He already made an excuse for it as he also didn’t know why he even did it in the first place, but Akemi was still understandably hurt. He couldn’t blame her. 

“I’m fine, how are you?” she tiredly asked, seemingly heading towards her bed. “I just got home from work, that's why I wasn’t answering.” 

He could see, in the corner of his eyes, that you were glancing at him but he didn’t return it. All of his focus was on Akemi, feeling bad that he hadn’t exactly been a good partner for her lately. Especially after the shit he just did in the shower this morning, but that was a secret that was meant to be buried. “Alright, did you have dinner already? It’s morning here so I’m having breakfast.”

She offered a small smile albeit the visible exhaustion on her eyes. “I did. How’s Sachiro doing?” 

“You wanna see him?” He walked closer to his son, showing him on the screen as his big blue eyes stared at the woman on the other end of the line. “Sachi, say hi to Auntie ‘Kemi.” 

“Hiii~” Sachiro happily greeted Akemi, while the latter cooed at the sight of his son. She spoke to him with a gentle and motherly tone, weaving warmth and love into her words. It made his heart full knowing that Akemi would wholeheartedly treat his child as her own, because if there was a slight possibility that she wouldn’t, she knew that Satoru would rather let her go. His child was still more important than any other woman. And so if his future partner couldn’t accept the fact that he had a child with his ex-wife, then they shouldn’t be in his life after all. The case was different with Akemi because she was already your friend and she had the chance to see Sachiro grow up before Gojou even knew his son existed at all. It was a bit complicated, but things turned out to be easier on the part of acceptance. 

The only problem was you. 

Because by the time the call ended, Satoru could tell that you weren’t in the best mood as you ate breakfast next to Sachiro in complete silence. Your eyebrows were curled into annoyance, and yet your eyes held sadness in them, an expression that had become difficult for him to fathom. Were you jealous of Akemi? He assumed you would say no, but your expressions showed otherwise. 

“Y/N,” he called for your attention, hoping that you would look into his eyes for a little bit. Yet, not a chance did you do. “What’s our agenda for today?” 

You seemed irritated, if anything. You refused to look at him as you gave a curt reply. “I communicated everything you needed to know via email. You should have checked it instead of letting Miwa do everything for you.”

Jeez. You were definitely angry. “Okay.” He cleared his throat once more. “I just asked in case there was a last minute change.” 

“There isn’t. I would have said so if there is.” 

“Right.”

Satoru didn’t know how to act in front of his ex-wife anymore. Now that he had seemed to ignite your pique, he chose not to say anything else further as you two finished your meals and cleaned up after yourselves. The only time he spoke again was when he offered to bathe Sachiro so that you could focus on yourself. 

You agreed. 

And he did his part. 

It was simple give-and-take. A transactional relationship, if you must. Nothing else would blossom from that except your responsibilities as parents for Sachiro. 

——

The New York trip was already as awkward as it was. And it only just started. 

To be fair, it wouldn’t have been as uncomfortable if only Gojou had not decided to make it so. He was the one that made the atmosphere unpleasant by trying to savor every inch of closeness he could get to your skin, only to pull away as if nothing happened. As if he didn’t care about how it made you feel. He even had the audacity to lecture you on how to go about being good parents and setting a good example to Sachiro. Then suddenly, the next morning, he would act like such a loyal and caring partner to Akemi. 

The thought of his loyalty made you scoff on the inside. He should be the absolute last one to be saying that. He should be the last one to profess how much of a loyal man he was trying to be to his new girl. 

Besides, even before this trip was arranged, you had already made it clear on your mind that the sole purpose of going to New York was for Sachiro's sake. Any interaction outside the need to be there for your son would be unnecessary. He wasn’t someone you still needed in your own personal life nor did he need you in his. Your past relationship no longer mattered in this situation and all that was left was for it to be forgotten. But even with your resistance to be anything more than a parent to your son, Satoru still respected you. He still showed, even in little ways, that he cared about your comfort throughout the trip. 

Five days had gone by, and everything you did in New York had been smooth sailing, all thanks to his grand number of connections across the USA. In a short amount of time, Sachiro’s surname had been legally changed, and everything else concerning his birth certificate had been corrected. The only issue left to address was your son’s nationality since Japan doesn’t permit dual citizenship and Sachiro would have to carry a Japanese citizenship and the Gojou name to be able to inherit his father’s assets and multinational conglomerate. You would leave that one up for Satoru to deal with, but everything else had been settled on your end. 

Although this trip wasn’t exactly a vacation, Gojou insisted that you two still take Sachiro out to explore the city he grew up in. And you did so by going to Central Park, telling your ex-husband stories of how you used to bring Sachiro there in a stroller when he was still a little baby and that plenty of strangers, both locals or tourists, would coo at him the minute they took a peek at his adorable face. You also took him to the Empire State Building to get the best view of the entire New York City, and Satoru being Satoru couldn’t leave without taking a family photo with you and your son, capturing the beautiful urban cityscape behind you. You could see it in his eyes that even though he was happy to be there, he was also melancholic at the same time. Almost three years of his son’s life were spent in this famous city, without him, and it was as though the bitter memories of those three years for him were haunting him back. Sadness was reflecting off of his crystal blue eyes as he took a minute staring at the view of the city, reminding you that you were the reason why he had missed out on his baby’s first memories. 

If guilt could literally eat you alive, you would have been devoured. 

“Ready to go, Sachi?” Satoru asked your son, tucking his phone away after having (seemingly) sent Akemi a text message, probably updating her of where he was and what he was doing. In fact, he had been texting and calling her every now and then, as if he was doing his best to reassure her that he wasn’t doing any funny business with you. Has Akemi always been a possessive partner? Even with your years of friendship with her, she had never acted that way in her past relationship. So, was she only like that to Satoru specifically? You wondered if she would go nuts had she heard Satoru tell you how badly he wanted to make more babies with you on your first night here. 

Sachiro nodded, clinging to your hand while reaching for his father’s. “Dada, hand pwease!” 

Satoru did offer his hand, but mirrored the surprise on your face when your son tried to link your fingers together, urging you to hold each other's hands like a couple. You didn’t want to get too offended by it, but your ex-husband was the first one to pull away. “I, uh, made a reservation for us in Carbone,” he said, unable to exchange eye-contact, “Yuuta will meet us there.” 

“Oh, he’s in New York?” you asked, pretending you didn’t notice how he acted allergic to your touch and redirected your attention to your son. “Did you hear that, Sachi? Uncle Yuuta will come and see you.” 

Your little one was oblivious to the world, too distracted by the throng of people surrounding the place that he didn’t even notice how his parents were uneasy with each other. To say that you didn’t feel bad for your son was a lie, because it actually broke your heart. Even if you and Satoru were working on co-parenting and making sure Sachiro wouldn’t feel the gravity of a broken household, you knew that when he reached the right age, all of this would still have an effect on him. One day, he would still be asking questions about his parents. Questions about why you separated, why your marriage failed, and why you had to move to New York while his father stayed behind. It hurt. Deep inside, it hurt so much to know that your only son wasn’t given the chance to have a complete family and it felt like a failure on your part as his parent. 

You were sure that was what Yuuta thought, too. As you met with him at a fancy restaurant in the city, you could see how his face lightened up seeing his nephew bonding with his parents as if it were a family vacation. He must have known what it was like to have a broken household. In fact, he had lived in a toxic one before, but he still grew up to be a mature and dignified young man who never let the horrors of his family’s actions affect his rational thinking. So if there was anyone in the world who would sympathize the most with Sachiro, it would be Yuuta.

“Sachi,” he spoke to your son fondly, wiping the sauce on the toddler’s chin. Yuuta chuckled as he watched the little boy's grimace after being given a small piece of broccoli. “You don’t like vegetables?” 

You fixed the bib on your son’s neck. “He does, but he’s very picky with it,” you tell Yuuta, glancing at Satoru who was busy speaking on the phone with Nanami about what appeared to be matters concerning the company. “Wonder where he got it from.” 

“Right.” Yuuta’s eyes turned into moon crescents as he smiled. “I remember nii-san being a little picky.” 

“You hear that Sachi?” you teased your son, who looked at you with his cute puppy eyes. You knew that if you had the ability to peak through his toddler mind, it would actually be full of fried chicken. The thought made you laugh. “Don’t be like daddy, okay? Sachi needs to have his veggies so he’ll be strong when he grows up.” 

“But…” Sachiro pointed to his father. “Dada is stwong.” 

Satoru chimed in at the conversation after having finished the call, “That’s right, Dada’s strong. Mommy could barely even handle me.” 

“Do you even know what we’re talking about?” You rolled your eyes, while Yuuta wanted to giggle, but chose to hold it back seeing the awkwardness of the situation.

Satoru shrugged and sat on his chair, eyeing the scrumptious dishes that were served to your table. He was acting like he hadn't been served more expensive meals before. “Have you tried the spicy rigatoni before? I heard it’s famous here.” 

You casually answered. “Yes. Toji used to bring me here every time he visited.” 

Look, you didn’t mean to overshare nor did you mean to make things even more awkward. You also didn’t mean to slap it in his face about how you were spending your years in New York with Toji. But Satoru, with his pride, took it resentfully. 

“Oh, really?” His words were the opposite of his voice. He was mirthless and full of unenthusiasm before changing the topic, redirecting his attention to his step-brother instead. “How’s Harvard?”

Yuuta eased the tension by making small talk, sharing details about his university life, and making sure he didn’t contribute to the growing tension. “I’m really just trying to survive this semester so I can go back home as soon as I graduate.” After taking a sip of his Cabernet Blend, he continued, “Like I promised, I’ll help you with the company.” 

You were happy, at least, to know that Satoru and Yuuta had fixed their relationship as step-brothers even after the whole incident with Nana, Eula, and their father. What used to be a relationship full of envy and competition finally became one that was full of mutual trust and support. Yuuta deserved that since he never once wished for his brother’s downfall, while Satoru also deserved to have a family member that had his back and helped him with the business without constantly fighting about inheritance. Because technically, Satoru was the sole heir of the Gojou family, and his dad only made it seem as though he would give it to Yuuta to make his own son comply with his orders. Satoru’s dad was controlling in that sense, and that was what led to all of this. 

But the present was more important. Things have changed and mistakes have been learned. It was all up to you on how you were going to manage your new life moving forward. 

Only, if only things were a little bit different on his side.

——

You had raised your son all by yourself for the last 3 years, so the presence of his father wasn’t really something you were used to for the longest time. How Sachiro acted around other people was solely a reflection of your teachings, discipline, and guidance as his mother. He didn’t really have a paternal figure up until now, and even if Toji was there to support your journey to motherhood, he never fully meddled with your mother-son relationship nor did he act like a replacement to Sachiro’s biological father. He loved him like his own, but respected the fact that the spot was reserved for Satoru. He knew that. He understood that, because he himself experienced raising a child alone without the presence of a mother. And if you asked him, he, too, would not want Megumi to replace the very love that he was supposed to have for his biological mom. Sure, Megumi could love and respect you, but Toji would still want him to save an unnegotiable spot for his mother in his heart. After all, she had birthed him. And in that same way, you had birthed Sachiro and created him with Satoru during your marriage. If there was anyone Sachiro should look up to, it had to be his father. 

And quite frankly, the father himself was doing an excellent job. 

But then again, remembering how hands-on Satoru was to you during your pregnancy, you never doubted that he would be a good parent. He may not be a perfect husband, but he loved his child with all of his heart and soul, and he would risk it all just to keep him happy. 

It was new to you how, throughout the trip, you didn’t have to take care of Sachiro alone. You and Satoru helped each other harmoniously, attending to your toddler’s needs and making sure he was being prioritized. You were glad. Truly. You were grateful to see that he wasn’t an absent father and that his words weren’t empty when he promised you that he would be a responsible dad to him. 

Though, at the back of your mind, you couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he welcomed another child in this world? A child that didn’t come from you? Deep inside, it hurt you to imagine him neglecting Sachiro on the side the minute he welcomed a new baby with Akemi. The reality was, the father would always prioritize the child of the current wife, not the child of the ex-wife. He would still support him, sure. But would he still pay the same level of attention that he was giving Sachiro now? You would probably break in half if Sachiro was thrown to the agonizing realm of feeling like an outsider in his own family because no child deserved that. If Satoru had that experience first-hand, he should not subject his own son to that same feeling.

You would be selfish to say this, but you wanted to seize the opportunity while Sachiro was still his only son. Hiding him from his father was your fault—you had gone through that a million times and you weren’t shy at holding yourself accountable through that mistake. However, you were already doing your best to make amends and make up for the years Sachiro had missed around his father. He was Satoru’s first and only child, and therefore he should never fight for his father’s affection. You weren’t sure what Satoru’s long term plans with Akemi were, but if they were considering having their own children someday, you would never allow your son to be pushed back at the bottom of the family tree.

Sachiro was the true first-born son of Satoru. He should never have to fight for his position in his father's eyes.

And so on the night of your flight back to Japan, when Satoru asked if he could take Sachiro with him for the rest of the week, you had no problems in saying yes. Your only wish right now was for them to spend as much time together as possible.

“Where are you taking him?” you did ask in spite of your leniency to send your son away, waiting inside the car as the pilot and crew prepared the private jet. “Please send me the full address. I need to know where he’s gonna stay and—”

“You’ll get the details from Miwa,” he casually said, rubbing Sachiro’s back as the little boy slept on his chest. He didn’t bother meeting your eyes as he talked. “I’m just taking him to my vacation home in Osaka.”

Osaka…

That was where his mother isolated him from the rest of the world when he was having terrible episodes. Episodes that worsened after he had found out that you ‘terminated’ his child and abandoned him for good. Shoko once said that they felt like Gojou disappeared from their lives while he was there, because nobody else could reach out to him. They couldn’t visit him nor could they contact him for a year or so until he was mentally ready to come back to Tokyo. 

You didn’t want to pry on matters that were sensitive to him, so you chose not to say anything concerning his decision to take Sachiro to Osaka. He must have wanted to reflect on his past experiences, allowing him to heal from them as it brought him to the incommutable life he had now—life knowing that Sachiro actually existed after everything that he was made to believe. 

“Please take good care of him, okay?” It was only a reminder, nothing else.

Satoru kept a straight face, nodding before he planted a kiss on his son’s forehead. “I got it from here.” 

After a minute of silence, you both got out of the car and you watched him carry the peaceful Sachiro in his arms. You left the sleeping toddler a tender kiss on the cheek before parting ways. “I love you, my baby.” Stroking his hair, you kissed his tiny nose. “Mommy will see you soon.” 

Satoru knew that you were staying behind. You had informed him of your plans before you even came here to the airport with him, explaining that Toji would be in Miami and that you had made arrangements to meet with your fiancé there. Satoru didn’t say anything much about it either, simply nodding his head at your decision and telling you to ‘do whatever’ because he was no longer a husband you should report your plans to. There was no hint of jealousy in his stance, but you couldn't miss the flicker of bitterness that did appear on his eyes for a millisecond. 

You didn’t even say goodbye to each other as you watched them board the plane. And he didn’t even bother looking back at you to tell you to take care of yourself. Not that you expected anything from him, but a quick goodbye would have been nice since you did spend the last couple of days together. Or perhaps, he was upset about the fact that you were staying behind to meet Toji? 

Either way, you were on your own now. 

It took some time for you to reach Toji in Miami. He had insisted on meeting you at the airport, but because he had to meet with a foreign investor, you headed straight to the hotel he was staying at. Funny enough, you couldn’t help but compare how different it was to stay in the same accommodation as your fiancé vs with your ex-husband and son. With Toji, nothing felt uncomfortable and sharing a room as a couple was as normal as it should be, but things did feel too formal and too forced. With Satoru, it felt awkward to share the same space with him, but since your son was there, it felt like home. It felt strangely close to home, like it was only right. That staying together as a family was what your heart wanted. 

Ever since Satoru went back to Japan with Sachiro, you had been feeling a wave of separation anxiety. Your mind was always left wandering towards them; how they were doing, where they were, what they had for dinner. You wondered if Sachiro was giving his father a headache. Smiling at the thought, perhaps he was giving Satoru a hard time changing his diapers. 

“Everything okay?” Toji, noticing your trance, put an arm around you as you two sat at the VIP lounge of the Miami Grand Prix. This was Toji’s scene. If Satoru was a fan of horseback riding and polo, Toji preferred big time F1 races. He even personally knew the racers, the type of cars they were driving, and everything a huge fan had to know. You weren’t all that familiar with these things, so it was a little hard to keep up with his lifestyle. 

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” you stammered, realizing how distracted you had been all this time. “What were you saying?” 

He drank from his glass of 30 year-old Macallan, downing the liquor like it was mere water. A cloud of disappointment settled over his features. “Not interesting to you, huh?” 

“No, I…” You made an effort to place a hand on his nape, giving him an apologetic peck on the lips. “I’m really sorry for zoning out. I was just… I guess I was just a little tired from New York.”

Toji placed a hand on your knee, sighing. “It’s fine. I was just trying to introduce the guys to you,” he said, scooting closer as he pointed to the racers. “You know that guy? Lewis Hamilton. He’s quite popular with the ladies,” then he moved his finger towards the other drivers, “And we got here for Ferrari, Carlos Sainz and Charles Leclerc, also fan favorites.” 

Your eyes suddenly caught sight of Gojou’s favorite car brand. “Um, how about McLaren? Who drives for them?” 

Unsure if Toji caught on or not, he did take a minute before feeding into your curiosity. “Norris and Piastri.” 

You wished you had any idea about F1 so that you could be as enthusiastic as Toji was at this event. He was at his happiest right now and you didn’t want to ruin it by being a boring, uncultured fiancé, because frankly, all these women around would have done a better job at entertaining him. Toji was very eye-candy and you couldn’t blame these models from glancing up at him, especially with how manly and suave he was, dressed like a picture perfect example of an old money businessman. The likes of him were the prey of these desperate influencers, willing to sell their bodies in exchange for a night with him. But truth be told, that was their way of living and you could never find it in yourself to insult them. You didn’t want to shame them for attempting to climb the social ladder because that was how they view money and success, or at least a faster ticket to it. 

As long as they didn’t try to make moves on your fiancé while you were around, you wouldn’t be so bothered by a few stares here and there. 

Neither was Toji. He must have experienced being stared at during these events plenty of times before, and he probably even sent women home crying because of rejection or worse, humiliation. Now that you think of it, how did Megumi feel when his father was being hit on while watching the Grand Prix? Most importantly, why was the teenage son absent at this current event? 

“Love, why didn’t you bring Megumi with you?” you inquired out of a sudden curiosity, knowing that Megumi was always present next to his father during F1 events. 

Toji took a sip of the hard liquor once more. “He didn’t wanna go. He was giving me the silent treatment before I left for the US.” 

Confusion further blanketed your eyes. “Did something happen back home?” 

He let out a deep breath, his face signaling that he was deep in dilemma. “The Zen’in elders want to set him up for an arranged marriage,” he revealed, much to your surprise, “They wanna make sure he’s not gonna end up like me, married to someone who wasn’t ‘qualified’ to be my wife.” 

At first you were confused if he was referring to you, but you realized that he was describing his late wife. Megumi’s own mother, the only woman Toji had ever loved by a mile. He fought everyone for her, even turned his back on his own family for her, but claimed that he also ultimately led her to her demise because the elders of his family harassed her until the day she died. It was a tragic love, perhaps even more tragic than yours, so you somehow understood why Toji was conflicted about Megumi’s personal life.

But you? You were strongly against it. “I don’t support arranged marriages, you know that,” you told him with conviction, sympathizing for the poor boy, “It’s not gonna end well. You know what happened to me…”

“I know.” Toji’s eyes were filled with regret. “I know, but there’s nothing I can do about it unless Megumi himself tells me he has someone he loves.” 

“Did you ask?” 

“He’s tight-lipped about it.” 

You sighed. “Well, he’s a teenager. They get pretty shy about these things.”

Forcing a marriage was never a good thing. You couldn’t understand why the concept even existed because it didn’t benefit anyone aside from the people around the married couple. That was why they called it a marriage of convenience. They were married for everyone’s sake but themselves; family name, status, business… You have had enough of it. If only you realized it from the very beginning, you never would have subjected yourself to a loveless marriage with Satoru. Even if your love did grow eventually, things still didn’t work out for the best, and now your life was a mess. A divorced couple co-parenting their only son? There was obviously no convenience gained in that false marriage.

Megumi would just be wasting years of his life tied to a person he didn’t love and so you were hoping that Toji would fight for his son’s right. Because if he truly understood you, he would not subject his son to the same suffering you went through. 

“I wish my wife was here,” mumbled Toji, forlornly, “She’d know how to handle these things better than I do.” 

Were you not there for him? You swallowed your pride, hiding the pain in your voice. “Right…” A smile was all that you could offer. “I’m sure she would.” 

——

Something was different about Toji and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. 

It wasn’t his appearance, and neither was it the way he spoke to you. He was all the same except for one thing; the look in his eyes. 

He had told you this before. He said that the eyes carry the most truthful and raw emotion that you can see on someone. The presence of love would be visible in someone’s eyes just as you would see stars on a clear, night sky. The lack, however, would mean that the eyes are blank and empty like the dark void in the expanse of the universe. You didn’t have to be poetic to be able to discern the way his eyes communicated his most solemn feelings in spite of trying to show otherwise. 

He must have been tired. Being caught up in your back-and-forths with your ex-husband, having to put up with your pretentious co-parenting situation, and the never ending need to keep an open mind about your situation with the same man who had ruined you. When your heart was in pieces, wasn’t he the one who tried to fix it? Wasn’t he the one who remained by your side during your darkest times? 

Whether that may be true, whether he truly ever loved you, you could recognize the stark difference of the Toji that genuinely cared for you to the Toji that was only actively trying to be there for you. What had changed him all of a sudden? 

“Toji, you drank a little too much.” A weary sigh escaped your lips, pulling all your might to drag your fiancé to lie comfortably in your shared bed later that night. At least, on the way to the hotel room, you had his bodyguards to thank for. They were there to haul him while he was in his drunken stupor, letting you lead the way, and dumping him carefully to his bed because there was no way you would be able to carry such a muscular man all by yourself. Now that you were alone with him, you decided to care for him the same way you used to do when Gojou was coming home drunk at night. Starting with his shoes that you took off, his shirt that you unbuttoned, his pants that you unzipped. “Come on, love. I’ll get you changed.”

The verdant hues of his eyes weren’t present. They were hiding behind his lids, refusing to meet your gaze. But if anything, he did open his mouth to speak, “...You. You wanna know a secret?” 

Drunken words are sober thoughts, you reminded yourself. Of the numerous times Satoru had gotten drunk during the early stages of your marriage, it was how you found out that deep inside him, he did care for you. That in spite of his ill-tempered exterior, he was a man deprived of parental love and support. What would be the case for Toji, then? 

“Yeah?” You waited for his answer, slipping his shirt off and revealing his toned body. 

The scar on his mouth moved when he displayed a mirthless smile. He was as drunk as an alcoholic would be. “I don’t… think… I can love you the same way I loved my first wife.” 

Your heart paused. In fact, every heartbeat became heavy. You knew how he felt, but didn’t expect him to say that out loud. “I-Is that so…?”

“Absolutely,” he mumbled, chuckling inaudibly. He was at a point where he was too far gone to realize the magnitude of the words he was saying to you. “Even if you try your best, she was everything I wanted in life and the only woman I could ever offer my heart to. She’s irreplaceable, and I don’t feel guilty about it... because I know you’re still into Satoru, too.”

“That’s…” You held your breath, holding back the sudden tears that formed in your eyes. “That’s not true.” 

Toji wasn’t done yet, however. He still went on with his drunken speech like he was finally pouring out raw, yet hurtful words out of the bottle. “Who knows? You would’ve had him touch you back in New York if you didn’t have me. You would’ve had him impregnate you, have his second child with you, and guess what? He still won’t be loyal to you.”

The pain in your heart increased tenfold. Everything went still and every minute felt like a stab to your soul. Should you say something? Should you get angry at him? No, no you couldn’t. Your chest was tightening and you knew it was smart not to let such negative emotions overpower you. His words were just a little difficult to grasp because Toji never in his life had been callous with his words to you. The tears that fell from your eyes were from the betrayal that you felt after hearing the cruel words he had uttered. And yet, you tried to hold on to that thin string of hope that Toji’s words didn’t come from a place of truth. 

“That’s enough, Toji. Go to sleep.” You pulled away, swallowing the bitter taste of weakness in your voice. 

He hummed, unaware of the pain he had put you through. “The more I look at you, the more I realize how much I actually don’t want to spend my whole life with you,” he admitted, with little to no regard for your current feelings, “I can’t fill this emptiness by being with another empty soul. And if there’s one thing I’m most grateful for, it’s that I let you run away that day before I fulfilled my vows with you—”

“Enough!” You shot up from bed and wiped the flood of tears on your eyes. “Enough! I’ve heard everything you wanted me to hear, okay?! Enough!” you raised your voice in despair, almost begging for him to stop tearing your heart asunder. “I get it! I fucking get it… so enough. Please, Toji.” 

Drunken words are sober thoughts.

A drunk mind speaks a sober heart.

Alcohol is a truth serum. 

The revelation of Toji’s true feelings that night was a reminder to you that he was just like any other man. That you should have never put him in such a high regard, thinking that he would be the prince charming that would save the poor damsel in distress. Why? What would he benefit from someone like you? You only deluded yourself into thinking that a man like him would take a single mother so seriously. You were only meant to be a placeholder for his dead wife after all. 

A placeholder, certainly. Not even deserving to have the title of a wife.

——

There was a huge contrast between being with you and Sachiro in New York vs being with Akemi and Sachiro in Osaka. The difference? There was no awkward air between Akemi and him. They were free to do things as they will—no restrictions, no certain do’s and don’ts. They were happy to have each other’s company, minus the guilt nor the unease of being by each other’s side. If anything, Satoru bitterly assumed that you were having the time of your life in Miami with Toji. You were so keen to see the man back there before parting ways with your ex-husband and son like you were simply discarding them to the side. 

If so be it, then fine. Satoru had all the right to have his son all to himself while you were gone. Besides, Akemi was just one call away and she was everything he could ever ask for. She cared for Sachiro as if she was his own mother and Satoru couldn’t be more grateful that he didn’t need to work on building a bond between her and his son. 

In fact, Akemi very much knew how to win Sachiro’s heart. As they took his adorable son to Universal Studios that day, she was nothing short of a caring mother. She had acted as a guardian to his son throughout the rides, letting the toddler enjoy his time at all the wonderful attractions that the theme park had to offer. Not once did his son cry too, so that only meant that they were doing a great job at taking care of him. 

Of course, it was a different story in the afternoon. After having spent all of his energy during the day, Sachiro had become tired and hungry by dinner time. But he wasn’t such a difficult kid to tend to, so Satoru was proud that his son still wasn’t throwing a tantrum even after a whole day of not having you around. 

“We’re gonna get Sachi fried chicken,” he enticed the pouting toddler, kissing his forehead while Akemi carried him in her arms. “Is that what you want?” 

Sachiro nodded and wrapped his little arms around his auntie’s neck. “Chicken, dada.”

Akemi smiled at the child’s gesture, tempting her to also place a kiss on his cheek. “You’re so cute and well-behaved, Sachi.” 

“—Satoru?” 

At the familiar voice, all three of them turned to the woman standing behind like a deer caught in the headlines. She was tall for a woman, slender, and had long, auburn hair, rosy cheeks, and ivory skin. Next to her was a tattooed man with salmon pink hair, a piercing on his ear, and a very defensive stance. Ah… How timely. 

Sera and Sukuna. 

Satoru wasn’t sure if he should openly greet them, after all, they weren’t acquaintances. And it was only recent that he got his memories back, triggered by Sera's presence at the expo. Other than that, he had no business with the two of them. Sukuna wasn’t a business partner of his, so him and Satoru had no formal connection towards each other. As for Sera, she might be his ex-girlfriend, but they didn’t exactly have the healthiest relationship to begin with, so…

“Of all the places,” she mumbled, almost gaping at the sight of him. Her eyes then trailed off to Akemi and Sachiro, with which her expressions shifted to guilt. Did she recognize his son? Did she remember the horrible attempt she did to harm his child during his ex-wife’s pregnancy? The memory was flooding Satoru’s brain like a tsunami. Yeah, in that case, Sera should definitely be filled with guilt. She tried to kill this harmless child. 

He cleared his throat, now becoming protective over his son at the presence of his ex. “We gotta go—”

“I guess it’s true,” Sera spoke again, this time redirecting her attention to Akemi. “The rumors, I mean. It’s all just surprising to me considering how obsessive Satoru was to Y/N.” She paused, seemingly wanting to comment at her ex-boyfriend’s current relationship in a mocking way. She kept her eyes on Akemi only, while Satoru was left wondering why Sera was acting hostile towards her. What was her deal now? She wasn't in the position to be acting all entitled to Gojou anymore, but here she was, talking to Akemi like she had met her before. “Did you know? He sacrificed everything for her. No one else made him beg on his knees the same way Y/N did.”

He couldn’t even tell how Akemi felt while Sera was clearly taunting her with her words, but she still managed to smile and excuse herself, keeping Sachiro away from an environment that should only be between adults. It was ridiculous, surely. What was Sera thinking trying to subject his son around that kind of hostility? Balling his fists, Satoru turned to Sukuna and spoke to him man-to-man. “You’d better keep your woman entertained so she’ll stop meddling into other people’s business.” 

Sukuna, however, found the situation equally humorous. “Don’t worry. We both are entertained.” 

Making a spectacle of Satoru’s personal life? No wonder they ended up together. They were both pieces of shit. 

Before Satoru turned on his heels to follow Akemi, Sera still had one last thing to say to him. This time, she was more calm and less malicious—her eyes following Akemi’s trail before looking back at him, “Satoru, if you have truly grown as a man, you won’t do this to Y/N.”

——

Sachiro was fast asleep when they returned to the Gojou clan's vacation home. 

Meanwhile, since the night was young for the two adults in that house, Akemi and Satoru shared a passionate session in the living room downstairs, letting her ride him as he placed soft kisses on her collarbone. They tried to keep quiet, obviously, and all the lights were turned off, leaving only the moonlight illuminating their view. After a few more minutes into their lovemaking, they eventually met their climax and tried to catch each other’s breath, embracing her in his arms as she fell limp against him. 

“Satoru, I missed you a lot while you were gone.” 

“...Same.” 

Silence engulfed them for some time until she let out an exasperated sigh. It was clear in her facial expressions alone that she was pondering about the whole scene with Sera earlier. “That girl earlier, Sera, she—”

“Don’t mind her.” Gojou closed his eyes and leaned his head against the backrest. He knew he had to clear things up straightforwardly, leaving no room for any misunderstandings. “She just loves riling people up. It’s ironic she’s coming at Y/N’s defense now like she didn’t torment her back then. She’s not worth paying attention to.” 

“Okay.” Akemi pulled away, cupping his face and stroking his cheek. She also offered him an angelic smile while doing so. “But you don’t feel that way anymore, right? For Y/N?”

Satoru took a deep breath, but steadied the movements of his chest. He felt defensive all of a sudden. “No.” 

Her smile grew more relaxed as she pressed a light peck on his lips. “Right.” And for a while, they both stayed silent. His thoughts ran straight to you, while hers was quite on a different route. “Earlier when I put Sachiro to bed, he called me his mama.” 

His eyes widened. “Oh… he did?”

She answered with a nod. “I don’t know if he’s just half asleep calling for his real mommy, but… At that moment, it made me realize how much I want to have my own,” she hinted at him, wistfully staring at his blue eyes with her shining ones, “with you.”

——

You didn’t take the flight back to Tokyo. 

What you took was an immediate flight straight to Osaka where you knew your son and your ex-husband would be. You weren’t sure if it was due to the height of your emotions, but you surely let your impulse win the best of you this time. 

You just wanted to escape. It was for the first time in your life where you were dying to set yourself free from Toji’s presence, the very same person who you once likened to a buoy in an open sea. Now he was no longer that. He was far from that. He was an anchor pulling you down at the deepest part of the ocean. Needless to say, the pain was still fresh from your heart when you took the earliest flight back home after his drunken confession to you. 

Despite the many missed calls and texts and emails he had sent you, none of them were returned. None of them were seen, or read, or had been replied to. 

All you wanted to do was get to your son. Your son. Your only comfort from all the painful things that the world has thrown at you. If not for Sachiro, you would have long ended yourself. But because he was born in this world, because he relied on his mother for love and guidance, you had to be strong and you had to seek the comfort in your heart from him. 

They could all turn their backs on you, but never will your son do. 

And so, after a few back-and-forth emails with Miwa to confirm the address of Satoru’s residence in Osaka, you ignored the jetlag that was hitting your body and traveled straight to his place without a wink of decent sleep. Sachiro. Sachiro was all you ever thought of when you asked your driver to drop you off the park nearby the Gojou clan's residence as soon as you spotted your son's mop of white hair, him running across the small bridge and pointing towards a fish in the pond. Your son was happily calling all the fishes, gushing about them to Satoru who stood next to him. 

You didn’t even care at how you looked during that moment. You just wanted to get to your son and embrace him in your arms. He had been away from you for way too long and you had already grown pale and sick from the separation anxiety that engulfed your heart and mind. 

You had to have your son. You had to hold him.

“Sachi!” you called out, a smile present on your face as you made your desperate way towards the bridge. Your son looked at you the moment he had heard your voice, and was already skipping towards you with a bright smile on his face. “My baby!” 

Satoru’s face, on the other hand, turned pallid. His eyes were full of surprise, unable to believe that you were actually right in front of him. It was like he had seen a ghost. No, worse than a ghost. Why? Did he not expect you to come when he had let Miwa send the address to you? Were you not welcome to visit your own son? 

“Mamaaa!” Sachiro hugged you tightly, allowing you to attack his cute face with kisses all over.  

“Mommy missed you so much, my baby.” You could almost cry. As young as he was, he had no idea how much comfort he was bringing into your heart. Just to be able to see him, hold him, kiss him was enough for you to feel complete again. It was at your brokenness did you realize how much Sachiro could fix you whole.

“Y/N, I thought you…” Satoru paused, confusion seemed to be settling on his features as you looked up at him. “You’re supposed to be back by Monday.” 

For a moment, you were reminded of the reason you came home earlier than intended and it stung your heart to think about. “Change of plans.” 

A small scoff left his lips. “Don’t tell me you left Toji back there.”

I did, you wanted to say. Satoru had no single idea how true his words were, but that was none of his business and you had no plans of confiding in him about what had happened. You may be angry with Toji now, but you still respected him enough not to do terrible things behind his back. 

“I had to see my son,” you lied, although it wasn’t exactly one, and got up while holding your toddler’s hand. “Are you ready to go home with mommy, Sachi?” 

Reluctance clouded your son’s face, and he became more resolute at shaking his head the moment a woman’s voice called for him from afar. A woman, a very, painfully familiar woman came into view a few meters away from you. Standing there was your best friend, Akemi Hirai, looking at you with wide, mortified eyes as soon as she saw your presence. 

And in a snap, Sachiro ran to her. Your son ran straight to her, joyfully and excitedly as if she was his real mother. 

How many more heartbreaks do you have to go through? 

How many more tears do you have to hold back? 

“I…” Your hands were shaking. Your entire body was on the verge of breaking down. All this time, your son had been in this vacation home living like a happy little family with your ex-husband and best friend. 

Now, he even refused to go home with you. 

Gojou scanned through the look on your eyes as though he was reading your emotions, but you showed none of it. Not a single emotion could be seen on your face. Not an ounce of pain shown, despite seeing how your son immediately forgot about you and headed straight to another woman. How excited he was to spend more time with his dad and his new girlfriend. How, much to your discomfort, he refused to go back to Tokyo with you. You saw the future family Sachiro was about to have without you in the picture, and damn did it hit you like a truck. 

Why, why did everyone in your life choose others before you? 

“I’m sorry. I’ll bring him to your house Monday morning,” said your ex-husband in a soft, delicate voice, almost as if he was being careful with you. “We’ll take care of him.” 

You could simply nod, avoiding eye-contact with anyone in the vicinity except for Satoru. “Okay...” you struggled with words. Your entire body was shaking. The last thing you wanted was to sound like a selfish mother, but frankly, you were about to self-destruct. “Just keep him happy… that's all I ask.” 

Behind your mask of indifference, Satoru knew what right words had to be said. You needed reassurance, and that was exactly what he gave you. “I won’t ever take him away from you, Y/N. I promise.” 

You watched them walk away, leaving you alone with a look of sympathy that you didn’t need. Sympathy that you despised having received. This should serve as a wake up call to you that no one in this world would ever love you. That even your own child would, one day, abandon you. 

As tears fell from your eyes, you felt a certain pang on your chest that hurt worse than every other pain combined. “You know you’re not so good with promises, Satoru.” 

[bet-on-me-13]

Reincarnation AU but it's not Danny

So! In basically every single Reincarnation AU I've seen, it's always Danny who gets reincarnated as a DC character. Sometimes it's Jazz, other times it's his Friends, but it never really strays from them. And I think we've been ignoring some people...

The Ancients! Danny is always reincarnated as a "Vacation" from his Ghost King Duties, so why not give the same courtesy to the other Ancients?

Specifically, Fright Knight.

Fright Knight has been a loyal servant and Knight of his Master for Millenia. Ever since he first formed as the Autumn Spirit, the Embodiment of Fear, the Fright Knight, he had declared his Servitude to the Ghost King, whomever it may be at the time. And he stayed in that position, through the passing of the Crown, through the Violent Coups, through every single Ghost King who had taken to the mantle. He was their Loyal Knight. Never Wavering. Never leaving their side.

Until Pariah Dark, but that situation was different. No previous King had even tried to take the human world before.

Thankfully, Pariah had only taken the Throne for a mere 5000 years, so he had not had to put up with him for long, and much of that time was with him stuck in his Coffin. That was the first time Fright Knight had ever left his Masters Side.

Then, that insolent Halfa he had met before came into the picture and Fright Knight had a new master.

King Phantom was...different.

Perhaps it was his remaining Humanity poking through? Or was it was the influence of the Human Realm that he still regularly visited? Or maybe he was simply just a Good Person, and there was no deeper meaning behind it?

Either way, Fright Knight noticed that he cared for his subjects in a far deeper manner than any previous king had. He had personal connections with as many Ghosts as he could, and often called the Ghosts he ruled his, Friends. It warmed his Long Frozen Core to see a King valuing his Subjects as much as he did.

He did not realize that the kindness Phantom extended to his people, also extended to himself.

One day, Phantom had been discussing his Human Life with some of his friends. Not his First Life, but his most recent Vacation. Over the Eons since he had taken the Throne, Phantom had been encouraged to take a Vacation every once in a while. It was not healthy for a Ghost to work non-stop like he did, especially for a Halfa.

It was not an uncommon practice in the Realms, many would take a break from the Endlessness of Death to embrace Life once more through Reincarnation. Although, many were too weak to retain their memories upon their second Forming. Mostly, it was Ancients or Kings who would use this as a Vacation, rather than a New Beginning.

There came a break in the conversation, and King Phantom turned his attention to his Knight. "Frighty, when was the last time you Reincarnated? Pandora did so recently, and it got me thinking."

"I have not taken leave of my post for thr Eons since my Forming, My Lord" Replied the Knight with Pride.

"What? You haven't taken a Break since you formed!? Frighty! That's not Healthy!" Exclaimed his King.

This lead to a whole conversation about how unhealthy his lifestyle was, which was another quirk of his Master. He cared for his Sunjects beyond their happiness.

"Fright Knight, as your King and as your Friend, I implore you to take a Vacation. It doesn't have to be forever, just a simple Human Lifespan, but please take a break, for your own Good."

And how could he refuse a request like that? One based in the kindness that his Majesty always showed his Subjects.

It took a few more years to finally iron out the plan for his Vacation, but what are a few years in the face of Eternity?

Finally, it came time to take his leave to the Mortal Realm, and to Life itself.

"Farewell, my Leige." Bowed Fright Knight, "I thank you for this opportunity."

"There's no need to thank me. Now go, and have fun, My Dark Knight."

...

That day, in Gotham General Hospital, a baby was born.

"What will you name him?" Asked the Doctor.

"I think I'll call him..." Began the need Mother, "...Bruce. Bruce Wayne."

[charliemwrites]

Part 6 of SpecGru (former 141) reader; Simon’s perspective again.

Content: brief implication/mention of reader having idle suicidal ideation. In the way of “I don’t care if something happens to me” kind of way. Happens during a phone call between Price and reader’s new captain.

Please be careful and safe. If someone needs this part summarized, let me know. I love you all very much <3

Here’s the truth of it: Simon never meant for you to leave.

You were too close, that was true. He did everything short of actually hurting you to drive you away. Treated you like a plaything, took your kindness and patience and feelings for him for granted. Left you cold and alone in a hospital bed — unable to see you pale and half-dead all because you were so goddamn headstrong…

That had put it all in vicious perspective. That he couldn’t keep you safe; knowing him, following him, would surely end with you on a metal table rather than a clean hospital bed.

In hindsight, he knows it was as much for his own sake as yours, trying to force that emotional distance between you two. But he just… he can’t do it. Not again. Not you. You’d break him.

But he never meant for you to leave. Not really.

Maybe take an extended solo mission. Or just break off the romance of it all. Maybe you’d stay away for a while, give him time to sort out his feelings and shove the useless ones back into the pit they belong in.

He didn’t expect you to be gone as soon as you could stand.

“You said yourself, Simon, she’s too young and reckless. The 141 can’t afford to babysit her,” Price explained.

“She nearly got you killed, LT,” Soap pointed out. That was before he found out that you were gone for good, not just on disciplinary leave.

And when he did…

“No. No, she dinnae…” he wiped a hand down his face, eyes going a bit glassy. “Why? Why would she… didn’t we mean anythin’ to her? I know we were all a bit on the rocks but ‘s just cos she gave us a scare…”

Gaz took it the hardest, showing up most morning with red-rimmed, puffy eyes. He tried texting you a hundred times; they never went through.

He and Soap begged Price to reconsider, saying that he had no right to kick you out without consulting the rest of the squad.

“I just told her that she should consider transfer,” Price corrected, steely.

“Same fuckin’ thing, ain’t it?” Soap raged. “What else ‘s she gonna do when it’s her captain sayin’ it?”

And Price had finally crumbled, his stubbornness giving way to a clearer head and regret in the aftermath. Simon knew how he felt; had been haunted with the same gut-wrenching feeling for two weeks by that point.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have…” he wiped a hand down his face. “I’ll call Laswell, see if she can put us through.”

As it turned out, your new team had deployed you almost immediately. You were gone, relying on teammates you barely knew, and there was no guarantee when (or even if) you’d be reachable again.

When Laswell put Price through to your new captain instead, he scoffed down the line.

“That how the great John Price sends off his own?” He gruffed.

“I take care of my own,” Price replied, narrow-eyed.

“That’s explains it then, doesn’t it?” A shifting on the other end. “Well, she’s one of mine now, at least; better off that way I think.”

He was on speaker phone with the SpecGru captain. Shouldn’t have been, but it wasn’t a confidential call. So the rest of the 141 was there, vibrating with the effort to stay quiet.

Simon balled his hands into fists, arms crossed. He didn’t trust anyone with one of theirs. No, you belonged right there with the rest of the 141. They could keep you safe, keep you alive.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Price growled.

“Let me just ask you this, Price. And only because I need to know how to take care of her.” A pause, shuffling of papers. Something heavy and almost… hesitant in the silence before- “Did she always have this DNR order?”

Price’s office turned to ice. Simon’s entire shuddered, cored out. The arm of the chair Soap was occupying cracked. Gaz’s hand was covering his mouth, blood draining from his face.

“No,” Price answered, voice little more than rust.

A grunt on the other end.

“Thanks for the insight,” your new captain replied, sounding nonplussed. “At least you were good for something.”

The line droned, dead.

—

You’re standing with the rest of SpecGru, beaming like each and every one of them hung a star just for you. They orbit like you’re the sun, even Nikto, holding you in his arms, letting you lean back against him.

(You used to look at Simon like that. Used to let him hug you like that on the occasion he was weak and gave into the temptation to hold you.)

Every time he looks at you, it’s like a stranger with your face all over again.

You hold your shoulders differently. Tilt your head different. Have a certain control over your facial features better than any mask Simon’s donned.

Today you’re dressed down from your tac uniform. Specifically, your long-sleeve thermal has been replaced by a sleeveless gym shirt. It reveals that tattoo he caught only a glimpse of before — a big, intricate thing from your shoulder down your wrist.

(He and Johnny were going to go with you for your first tattoo. You asked them for all sort of recommendations. Enjoyed tracing Simon’s sleeve when he let you.)

There are more scars too. Burns, bullet grazes, jagged knife marks and patches from bad scrapes.

Nova is finishing up the wrapping on your hand, the other already done. You’re listening to something Russ is spouting off about, whatever it is making you laugh loud enough to be heard where Simon is lurking.

“C’mon,” Johnny says, bumping shoulders with Simon. “Know we fucked up yesterday, but we can try again. Maybe letting her beat the shite out of us will help clear the air, aye?”

Simon forces himself to look away. He already knows you won’t be glancing over.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Maybe.”

[elzdaizy]

Trouble After Paradise (Part 1)

Warnings: lots of angst, conflict, explicit language.

Summary of short story: Reader and Harry have returned from their honeymoon to a harsh reality and their first huge hurdle as a married couple.

A/N: This is 1 of 3 parts. Enjoy! Just a little short story idea i had and wanted to share with you all.

It’s been four weeks since you returned home from your honeymoon in Costa Rica and you’ve found yourself reminiscing constantly on that magical holiday.

To say the least, things have took a turn for the worst since you and Harry got home.

You were bombarded with mountains of piles of work to get through because there was no one to fill your position whilst you’d taken the month off leading up to your wedding, including the honeymoon.

Harry had started filming his next movie, one that was mentally draining due to his character being a very unwell mental patient at a psychiatric hospital.

You worked from seven in the morning until four in the afternoon in the office but always brought home some work to do which kept you busy until about eight at night when you’d get into bed.

Weekends were exhausting as well, you were catching up with friends and family after basically being off the grid throughout the week.

Harry’s shooting location, thankfully, was only a few hours away up north in Manchester so he managed to be home often between breaks but unfortunately meant that he wasn’t home with you for periods of times.

He tries his best to be at home with you on the weekends but his schedule doesn’t work that way all the time. On average you probably see each other a total of two days out of the week and it’s been this way the past four weeks.

You’ve both been so busy, you’ve barely had the time to live life together as a married couple. There’s a tension building full of stress and exhaustion on both ends of your marriage. You find yourselves bickering when you’re together and getting on each other’s nerves more than ever before.

You know it’s because you’re equally annoyed with yourselves and each other with the current situation.

It’s 8pm on a Friday night and Harry called you earlier that morning to let you know he’s coming home today at around 6:30pm and will be able to stay the full week until he’s off again. He asked for you to pick him up from the station because he had booked a meal at The Ivy for 8pm. You of course said yes. You were so excited to hear the news, you felt tears well up in your eyes. “I really can’t wait, I miss you so much.” You replied before you both said your goodbyes and I love you’s before hanging up.

What you didn’t know was that working would be busier than ever that Friday and now you’re still in the office trying to hurry up and finish off one last piece of paper work to be sent off to your client before the weekend. Your phone had died two hours ago and Harry hadn’t contacted you before it died so you weren’t too concerned that he would’ve tried to since then.

You could cry out of frustration. You purposely stayed back to get all this extra work done so you could book off Monday and Tuesday to extend your weekend to spend some time with your husband.

Half an hour later, you finally send the email and pack up your stuff. You race to your car and make your way home. The door is unlocked when you go to turn the key and your heart skips a beat when you realise that Harry must be home.

The lights are all off downstairs which is odd so you make your way upstairs to your bedroom to find Harry sat on the edge of the bed in just his underwear and his phone in his hands.

“Hi, baby.” You softly speak up as you walk through the door and put your bag and coat over the chair in the corner of the room.

Harry glances at you over his shoulder briefly without so much as a tiny acknowledgment of your presence before looking back to his phone.

You frown, thinking his behaviour seems a bit off. The energy in the room seems low and you can sense he’s not in a good mood.

You walk over to him, a hand on his shoulder and the other hand reaching to lift his head by tilting his chin in your direction for him to look up at you. As soon as you try to lean forward to place a kiss to his lips he yanks his head away from your touch and rolls his eyes, letting out a huff.

You step back, very offended and extremely hurt by his cold actions.

“Fuck you, then.” You throw your hands up and storm away to head downstairs to the kitchen. You’re literally trying so hard not to break down and cry right now so you’re pacing around your kitchen, breathing heavily for a few moments then deciding to pour yourself a large glass of wine.

You almost down the first glass. The second one being poured less than five minutes later. You’re just stood by your kitchen island with a glass of wine in one hand and thoughts racing around your mind as you try to figure out why your husband seems to despise you at the moment.

You soon realise it could possibly be the fact that your phone was dead and maybe he was trying to get ahold of you.

You start to feel a pit of guilt in your stomach when you take your phone from your pocket and plug it into the charger point next to your toaster.

You finish your second glass of wine once your phone switches on and your eyes widen when you notice the ten missed calls and five unread messages from Harry.

You read the texts carefully one at a time.

From Harry:

6:09pm - l’m fifteen minutes away from the station if you want to set off now. Love you. Xx

6:30pm - Where are you? I’m waiting near the security box until you’re here. Xx

6:53pm - I’ve rung you five times and you’re not answering so I’m making my own way home now.

7:26pm - Why aren’t you answering and why aren’t you at home? You do realise we have to be at The Ivy in half an hour.

8:03pm - cancelled the booking. If you read this before you come home - don’t bother me when you get in, I can’t be arsed with this tonight.

You heart feels like it’s going to stop. You have never felt more terrible in your life. You feel like a punch to the gut is what you deserve right now and nothing less. And to think, you literally just spat in his face and said fuck you to him, still not realising what you’d done.

You were so fixated on wanting to spend the week with Harry that you’d completely forgotten about picking him up and going out for dinner tonight.

You were a little drunk and very upset with yourself so of course the only thing currently you did was start to cry. You sat on a stool at your island, lent your elbows on the countertop, put your face in your hands and sobbed. Sobbed for your husband and how upset he must be feeling. Sobbed at the realisation of how much you hurt him and let him down. You felt like a failure.

After about thirty minutes of letting your feelings flow out of your system uncontrollably, you composed yourself and prepared yourself to go and apologise profusely. You’d gone over what to say in your head a million times and nothing sounded good enough but you know the least he deserves is an apology rather than an explanation or excuse right now.

Your face is puffy and red from the crying as you shakily walk up the stairs to your room and find Harry is now laying under the covers with the tv on, watching a movie with a deep frown on his face. As if he’s in deep thought rather than paying attention to the screen.

You push the door open gently and let yourself in. Basically walking with your tail between your legs, you can barely look at him as you sit on the bottom corner of the bed on your side. You couldn’t be further away from him on the bed if you tried.

“Harry, I’m so sorry.” You croak. Lips quivering as you fight the urge to break down crying again. You finally look at him after your first attempt at the beginning of a long apology. He’s ignoring you. Keeping his eyes fixed on the screen and his arms crossed over his chest.

You decide to keep speaking, “I completely understand why you’re angry and I don’t want to give myself any excuses for-.”

He reaches for the remote and turns up the volume to drown out your voice.

You let out a shaky sigh. A tear slipping down your cheek. “I didn’t ignore you on purpose- look, can you please just say something?” You beg pathetically and Harry’s head turns as his eyes look at you with anger.

“Told you I can’t be fucked with this tonight just leave me alone, please.” He sighs in annoyance before completely turning his back to you as he lays on his side.

You really don’t know what to say now. You didn’t expect this reaction from him. He’s never been this angry with you before and it’s terrifying you slightly because you really can’t cope with it. You don’t even care if he shouts at this point, you just want more of a reaction from him.

He has every right to feel the way he does, you know that. You hate going to sleep on bad terms though. You both agreed to always resolve conflicts before getting into bed because you never wanted to be that couple that gets into fights and makes one or the other sleep on the sofa.

It seems like it’s going to be that way tonight though. You don’t want to say another word because you don’t want to make it worse. Even though you know you won’t get much sleep, you decide to go sleep downstairs on the couch. You could go sleep in the spare room but you need a tv to distract you from your racing thoughts so the living room it is.

You get up from the bed, go take a quick shower and change into your pyjamas before grabbing your pillow from your side of the bed and walking towards the door.

“Goodnight, Harry. I love you.” You say to him softly before closing the door behind yourself and making your way downstairs.

You turn on a shitty reality show to fall asleep too. It takes a few hours but eventually you drift off.

The next morning you’re awoken by the sound of the blender rattling off in the kitchen. You feel at peace for a split second as your groggy memory clears up as your consciousness comes back, along with the awful events of last night. You grimace start yourself as you sit up on the couch and turn around to see Harry standing in the kitchen, making himself a smoothie, dressed in his running gear.

It mustn’t be any later than 6am because he only likes going running at the crack of dawn. He hasn’t noticed that you’re awake yet but you know he’s still fuming by the look on his face.

Now that you’re not intoxicated and knowing it’s a new day, you’re determined to resolve this issue very soon. You don’t want to waste any more of the short time you two have together for the next four days being bitter.

You get up from the couch and stretch before walking over to the kitchen island and taking a seat on the stool you were sobbing on last night.

“Morning.” You say with a tired voice as Harry still hasn’t acknowledged you whilst he’s cleaning up some dishes. You’re both facing each other on opposite sides of the island.

Harry looks up at you frowning and doesn’t reply so you take it as your queue to go in strong with all guns blazing.

“Can we please talk about this now?” You plead. Harry just deadpans and looks at you with a look that tells you no as he picks up his AirPods and puts them in as he makes his way to the door to go on his run.

“What the actual fuck! This is an actual fucking nightmare.” You frustratingly shout to no one but yourself after Harry closes the door on his way out.

[sapphire-writes]

Running On Sunshine (hospital AU)

Do No Harm part 3 || masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: doctor!Aemond Targaryen x doctor!Reader

summary: You haven't spoken to Aemond. Tensions rise between the two of you and come to a head at the arrival of a disruptive patient.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: NSFW mdni medical terminology, use of needles, discussion around addiction (specifically alcohol, rehab, recovery), fighting, blood, punching, explicit sex (p in v) fingering, oral (fem receiving), creampie, praise, dirty talk, spanking, language

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

note: here it is! long-awaited, thank you for being so patient as my brain jumps around 😂 hope you enjoy it!!

disclaimer: yall, I am not a doctor, I am simply a Grey's Anatomy stan. If something is off or incorrect please just suspend your disbelief! I am trying my best to make it as accurate as possible but its just for fun!!

It’s been a few days since your ultimatum with Aemond. 

No texts. 

No calls. 

You pass each other in the halls and avoid eye contact, brushing past him close enough that if you extended your little finger you’d be sure to brush against the back of his hand.

You weren’t going to chase him. 

You’d told him what you wanted. Told him you’d wanted him. And he had stayed silent. If that was the end of you and him, so be it.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t killing you inside. Watching him day in and day out walking through the halls of Citadel General in those stupid blue scrubs that he somehow wore like he was strutting down a runway not the hallway of a hospital. 

It didn’t help that observations often included surgeries he was a part of. Aemond was a model resident, often asked to assist the attendants. And he was hard to miss, always wearing his signature scrub cap with little dragons peppered all over it, mid-flight. You’d catch him glancing up at the viewing gallery, peering up over his mask every now and then. You never caught his eye, he was much too quick for that. 

“Switch with me,” you’d begged that afternoon after Baratheon had informed you of the plan to observe Dr. Cole’s surgery. There was no way Aemond wouldn't be there, Dr. Cole had chosen him as an obvious favorite. 

You’d been catching up on notes with Cory for the past ten minutes, the pair of you both trying to shove food in your mouths before your pagers inevitably went off. 

Labs. Observation. Notes. Scut work.

The never-ending revolving schedule of your internship. 

Cory reaches into her bag of salt and vinegar chips, clicking her mouse furiously, her brows pinched together in concentration. 

“I can’t,” she says through a mouthful, “Besides, you’ve already done this lab. If I don’t get these hours by the end of the week I’m about to take Jace’s place as Baratheon’s least favorite.”

You groan in frustration, letting your head rest against the keyboard of your computer. Nettles pops her head into the room, frowning at you both, “What’s wrong with her?”

Cory shrugs and you turn your head to face Nettles. 

Beep beep!

Cory groans, checking her pager, “Shit, I gotta go,” she says, crushing her chip bag and logging out of the computer before heading out of the room, “Sorry again, Y/N!”

You mumble something along the lines of don’t worry about it just as she disappears from sight. Nettles raises her eyebrows.

“McDreamy?” she asks, and you continue to pout, “Damn. Dick is so good we should change his name to McDick.”

“You suck,” you tell her, but you can’t stop your smile, “Definitely not your best work.”

“McOrgasm? I’m still thinking of one that truly encompasses the distress he’s causing you. Dr. Cum?” she makes a face, “Okay ew. Definitely not Dr. Cum.”

You groan, putting your face in your hands, “What am I going to do?”

Nettles walks towards you, slapping the back of your head. You lift your head, mouth open in shock, palming the place she slapped.

“Hey! I was recently concussed!”

“And apparently it scrambled your brains more than we thought!” she snaps, “See what you’re not going to do is spend your days moping over Dr. Sexy. I don’t care how good his dick was. You are a doctor. You are an insanely smart woman and you are in your internship.”

Nettles lowers herself to your height, taking your hands in hers. 

“He is very dreamy,” she says, her brown eyes empathetic, “But this is your time to shine. Not his. He’s not this important.”

It hurts---gods does it hurt---but she’s right. And you know it. You’ve been through situations like this before. You’ve gotten through things like this, and worse. Smiling at Nettles you squeeze her hands.

“Thank you.”

“Mhmm,” she says, smiling, “Always here for a reality check. You’re the sun, babe.”

You smile back at her, “I’m the sun.”

“Damn right,” she says, chuckling, “How’s Cece doing?”

“She was discharged this morning,” you tell her, beaming with pride, “Just finished her last round of antibiotics and her labs are clear. I’m working on her note now.”

Nettles plops down in Cory’s seat, reaching into the chip bag she left behind. Her hand comes out empty and she frowns. 

Jace opens the door, looking rather sweaty and discombobulated. He’s been running around the most, trying to get on Barartheon’s good side. 

“Hey,” he says, out of breath, “Can you guys help me in the pit?”

“No can do,” Nettles says, “We’ve got observation soon.”

You nod agreeing, but become curious noticing Jace’s panicked expression.

“Why what’s wrong?” you ask.

“Just…five minutes,” Jace says, “Please, I need someone. And I can’t find Sara and Cory--I just need someone, please.”

You turn to Nettles.

“The pit?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at you, “Really?”

“Tell Baratheon I’ll be there as soon as I can,” you tell her, “Besides, maybe it’s a good case.”

“Girl,” Nettles says, sighing and shaking her head.

“I just really need your help,” Jace says, leading you through the emergency room, weaving between nurses and patients, “It’s just that…I mean I didn’t know the other day but now…”

“Didn’t know what?” you ask as he stops outside a curtain.

“-- he’s back again and family members--,” Jace says, brown eyes wide, “We’re not supposed to work on family members.”

Your eyebrows concave together in confusion when suddenly the curtain pulls back. A man is lying in the hospital bed, a halo of platinum hair cascading onto the pillow he lays on. His eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot, a lazy grin appearing on his face as he gives you a once-over.

“Nephew,” he sing-songs, giggling, “You brought me a present!”

Jace sighs, pulling the curtain from his grasp. Wait a minute. Nephew? Your eyes scan the giggling man as Jace snaps something at him. The silvery hair, the violet eyes. Seven hells.

How many Targaryens are there?

“Excuse me?”

“He’s kidding,” Jace says, forcing a smile and turning to his uncle, “You’re kidding.”

His uncle shakes his head, lower lip jutting out in a pout, “I’ve never told a joke in my life. She’s pretty Jacey, well done.”

Your cheeks burn at the compliment, at the way his eyes cascade down your body. You’ve never felt more exposed in simple scrubs. 

“Stop calling me that,” Jace snaps, cheeks reddening.

“I didn’t know you had it in you, Jacey boy,” he croons, “Thought Baela had taken your balls when she dumped your ass--”

“Funnier every time I see you, Aegon,” Jace interrupts, closing the curtain once more. 

Aegon’s mouth drops open in surprise before he’s hidden from sight. You raise an eyebrow at Jace, folding your arms across your chest. 

“He’s harmless,” Jace assures you, “Please, please just help get him out of here as soon as possible.”

“Well, that’s sort of difficult when we don’t know what’s wrong--”

“I know what’s wrong.”

You frown, raising an eyebrow at him, “You know?”

“Yeah, he’s fucking drunk. He’s always drunk. Just give him a banana bag, let him sober up, and get him out of here,” Jace instructs.

“How do you know he’s drunk?”

“Considering the fact he hasn’t been sober since I was eight years old, it’s not hard to guess,” Jace tells you, “He’s been to more rehab programs than I can count. Trust me on this.”

“I’m still going to have to do some labs,” you tell him, not willing to go against protocol.

“That’s fine, do what you have to do just…keep him out of the way,” Jace pleads, eyes widening as though he’d just remembered something very important, “And don’t let Aemond know he’s here.”

Your gut tightens at the mention of Aemond.

“Why not?”

“Just don’t. It’s better for everyone if no one knows Aegon is here,” Jace finishes, “Thank you, I owe you big time.”

“Yeah you do,” you confirm, and then Jace hurries out of sight, eager to escape the pit.

The curtain opens once more and you turn, meeting the curious gaze of Aegon Targaryen. You try to stop the scowl that threatens to overtake your face as he grins widely, a mischievous look in his eyes. 

“Ow!”

“Will you hold still!”

“You’re killing me!”

“Stop being so dramatic!”

“It hurts!”

“It won’t hurt if you stay still, Aegon!”

Aegon throws his opposite arm over his eyes as you attempt to find a vein for the third time. He’s too squirmy, too anxious that as soon as the needle pierces his ivory skin he’s flinching away and howling. 

“I’ve seen children do better than you,” you grumble, and he gasps in feigned shock.

“They let you torture children?”

“Hush!” you insist, and to your relief, he’s able to stay still as you start the IV, “There you go. See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Aegon peaks over his arm, glancing down at the tubes as you assemble them properly, making sure the drip is even. He frowns as you release the tourniquet. 

“I bruise like a peach,” he mumbles.

“Sounds like you need more iron in your diet,” you tell him, walking to the other side of his bed. You need to take his blood pressure and begin wrapping the band around his arm. 

“Can I have something for the pain?” he asks.

“No, you may not.”

“Not even Tylenol?”

“No.”

“Hells,” he mumbles, “You should know, I enjoy it when women are mean to me, it turns it on.”

“Of course it does.”

“Mhmm. I eat that shit up.”

You’ve been trying not to look at his face for too long. If you look at Aegon, you’ll start thinking about Aemond. 

You’ve been trying very hard not to think about Aemond.

They don’t really look alike, despite the matching hair and eye color. Though he’s sitting down you can tell Aegon has none of Aemond’s height. He’s soft whereas Aemond is sharp. Their mouths may be the most similar thing about them, both awarded beautifully pouty lips made to be kissed. 

“What’s on your mind, doc?” Aegon says, eyes narrowing.

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying, I’m very perceptive,” Aegon insists, “Come on tell me. What is it? Doctor drama? Boyfriend drama?” Your face must give something away when he asks, because his eyes light up, “Boyfriend drama.”

It’s no use, you can feel your face heating up, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Fuck off.”

Your head snaps up at him, and you remove the blood pressure sleeve. Discarding it in favor of your stethoscope you place the end against his chest.

“Breathe in.”

“D’you have a girlfriend then?” he relentlessly continues.

“No.”

“A fuck buddy?”

“Hells,” you mumble in frustration, trying to listen to his heartbeat. 

“Please tell me it isn’t my nephew,” Aegon says, making a face.

“What?” you answer, far too quickly, “No! Seven hells, Jace and I are friends! And I do not sleep with colleagues.”

“Everyone sleeps with colleagues,” Aegon argues, “How else do you meet people?”

“That working well for you?”

“Oh I don’t work,” he answers, “That’s boring.”

You choke back a laugh. The man truly is ridiculous.

“Alright then. Well, you’re all set once you’re done with your fluids we’ll check your vitals again and send you on your way,” you tell him, making a note in his chart, “I can have the nurses reach out to some detox programs if you’re interested.”

“I’m not.”

“Look, I understand a bit of your history from what Jace shared. But you should know, recovery isn’t linear, and relapse is completely normal-”

“I haven’t relapsed.”

You blink. 

“Your BAC was 1.06,” you inform him, “That’s more than a little buzzed.”

“I haven’t had a drink since Nyra birthed her last gremlin,” he insists, not elaborating on who Nyra was, “I’m just like this.”

Your eyebrows knit together. He could be lying, you know that. Addiction is one hell of a disease. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he groans.

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t believe me.”

You’re silent for a moment, just staring into his violet eyes. 

“Your blood--”

“Fuck the labs,” he groans, “They always come back like that. I haven’t taken anything. I haven’t drank anything. Believe me, I’d be much more obvious.”

“How so?”

“Well for starters, a pretty little thing like you wouldn’t be so far away,” he comments, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin, “I don’t know why this happens. I think my body got so used to being fucked up, it just does it on its own now.”

“You’re being serious,” you comment, and he nods.

It goes against everything you’ve learned in med school, and in residency thus far. Your pager beeps and you glance at it. It’s Nettles. You’re supposed to be joining her soon. 

When you hear hooves, think horses, not zebras. 

You chew your bottom lip. Aegon raises a brow, already looking better with the intake of fluids. 

Fuck it. 

You quickly page Nettles, and let her know you’re needed longer in the pit. Hopefully, Baratheon doesn’t kill you for this. 

We’re going with the zebras. 

“Okay so I’m going to send the sample to the lab and see what comes back,” you inform Aegon, “And if you’re being honest with me, we should have some answers for you.”

Aegon swings his legs over the side of the bed. 

“Why would I lie?”

You want to roll your eyes, but you’re sure if you do in his presence once more they’ll fall out of your skull. He gives you a cheeky grin as he notices your exasperation. 

“People lie all the time,” you tell him.

“To you?” Aegon asks, snatching your hand is his, “Never, princess.”

You hear Nettles suddenly, her voice flowing through the ER and your stomach turns. Surely, it's Dr. Baratheon coming to reprimand you for missing observation to spend time in the pit ‘trolling for surgeries.’ The curtain opens then, and to your horror, it’s Aemond who has discovered you rather than Dr. Baratheon. 

His eyes fall to your face first before he turns to Aegon. His gaze drops to your interlocked hands. Something washes over him, his expression cold and calculating. 

“Out,” he says, voice quiet as death. 

Aegon chuckles, but you can hear the nervousness he’s trying to hide. You can see it in the way he wets his lips, the way he pulls his hand from yours.

“Bro…”

“Out, now,” Aemond repeats, “Don’t make me drag you out in front of all these people.”

“Careful now,” Aegon says, standing, “you know how mummy feels about you getting your hands dirty--”

Aemond steps forward, hands fisting Aegon’s shirt and dragging him forward. Your eyes widen in shock and Nettles yelps as Aemond pushes past her, dragging Aegon with him. 

The display has gathered the attention of several nurses and patients as Aemond continues to drag him through the ambulance entrance and out the automatic doors. You and Nettles remain closely on their heels as they exit the hospital.

Aemond releases his hold, sending Aegon stumbling into the road. 

“Seven hells!” Nettles says, a shocked expression on her face. 

Aegon laughs maniacally, bending over with his hands on his knees. He shakes his head several times, like a dog before looking up.

“Go home,” Aemond says, flexing his hand.

“Where’s that?”

“Wherever you’ve been staying I suppose,” Aemond quips.

Aegon is panting, staring at his brother.

“I’d like to see Helaena.”

“That’s not happening.”

“Helaena!” he yells at the sky, “She’s my sister, I know she wants to see me.”

“You’re not shaking her down for any more fucking money,” Aemond says, his voice louder this time, making you flinch, “Go home, Aegon.”

Aegon wets his lips, running a hand through his hair. His eyes meet yours. 

“You’ll call me? With the results?” he asks, and Aemond snorts.

“Another STI screening?” Aemond snarks. 

Aegon’s tongue pokes his cheek, an angry smile on his face. 

“Gotta make sure I’m all clear before saddling up with a fit bird,” he taunts, eyes falling on you as he says it, grabbing his crotch for emphasis. 

Aemond lurches forward his hand connecting with Aegon’s cheek. Nettles and you both scream as Aemond jumps back, Aegon spitting a mix of blood and saliva on the ground. He laughs again, smiling with bloody teeth. 

“Get him cleaned up and get him out of here,” Aemond instructs Nettles, before heading back inside and leaving the three of you standing there.

Aegon’s lip is split, along with a cut on his cheekbone. He spits again, wiping his face and nodding at you.

“No boyfriend eh?” he says, grinning. Your face flushes. 

“I wasn’t lying.”

His grin widens.

“One of us is,” he says, referencing your earlier conversation, “Guess we’ll find out who.”

Nettles approaches him, and he winces. She turns to you.

“You should go see if he’s okay,” she says, nodding to the doors. 

You run back inside leaving Nettles and Aegon, your eyes searching for Aemond. Hurrying to the nurses' station, they inform you which direction he took off in. A nervous sweat breaks out on the back of your neck as you hurry down the hallway. You spot him then, taller than everyone else, watching as he ducks into an on-call room. 

Quickening your pace you follow him inside. It’s quiet as you close the door, besides the sound of a noise machine echoing white noise in the dimly lit space. There are two beds in this room; truly the on-call rooms are in such sorry states. Small twin mattresses with paper-thin sheets and pillows that may as well be pieces of foam. 

Aemond sits on the bed to the left, his head resting in his hands. You close the blinds on the door, flipping the sign that says “Both Beds Occupied” along with flicking the lock. You don’t think he’ll want to be disturbed.

“Aemond,” you say softly. He doesn’t move. The knuckles of his right hand are bloody. 

Taking a step closer, you watch his shoulders rise and fall with the deep breaths he’s taking. Anxiety churns in your stomach, and you take a step back, placing your hand on the handle of the door.

“I’ll just leave you--”

“Don’t,” Aemond speaks quietly for the first time, raising his head. His gaze softens, his eyes somewhat glassy. “Please don’t go.”

Your heart starts to race, but you nod, stepping back toward him. Sitting beside him the bed creaks; you cross your ankles and place your hands on the edge of the bed. Aemond rests his chin on his hands, arms propped on his knees. The pair of you sit in silence for several moments. It begins to rain outside, fat droplets of water beating against the window. 

“You should get that looked at,” you finally say, nodding at his hand. 

Aemond merely hums in response, flexing his fingers. 

“Seriously, you’re a surgeon,” you continue, “What are you thinking, throwing punches like that?”

Aemond glances at his hand, curling and uncurling his fingers, “He brings out the worst in me.”

“Your brother.”

“Mhmm,” he answers, shaking his hand. It’s not as bad as it looks, thankfully. He could have done some serious damage.

“I’m sorry. Jace told me…well I’m just sorry.”

“It’s alright. Someone has to treat him. I’m sorry if he was inappropriate to you.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him, “We don’t get to choose how patients behave.”

“Aegon can be a lot. Take it from someone who knows him rather well.”

“Noted.”

You sit in silence some more. The sky outside has begun to turn dark as clouds roll in, the sound of thunder audible in the distance. A storm is looming.

“I’ve missed you,” he says so softly you almost don’t catch it.

Your hands dig into the side of the bed, your heart pounding against your ribs making your chest feel painfully tight.

“Don’t-”

“Y/N..”

“Please Aemond,” you cut him off, eyes watery, “Please. Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

“I do mean it,” he insists, turning his head toward you, “It’s just…Y/N that day I didn’t give you an answer. And you deserve one. I like you. I like you so much. You’re an incredibly intelligent person, funny, adorable, and…” he trails off, shaking his head slightly as he chuckles to himself. 

“And what?”

“And that scares the shit out of me. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. I wasn’t expecting you. When I moved here I just planned on keeping my head down and then….then there was you,” he looked away, his eyes lit up in wonder, “I saw you in that bar, and it was like the sun came out.” 

Your lips part, your stomach flutters pleasantly at his words, and goosebumps erupt on your skin. He glances at you shyly, the tips of his ears tinged pink.

“And then I saw you here and you’re an intern, at the beginning of your residency I just….I mess things up. I don’t want to mess things up for you. Or with you.”

You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers through his, “Okay.”

“But…I miss you. I miss talking to you, kissing you,” Aemond continues, the top of his cheeks turning pink, matching his ears, “You asked me if I’m in or out. I didn’t answer, and I should have. I’m all in.”

“Aemond…”

“If you’ll have me,” he adds, “If you…if you want to give this a try.”

You smile at him softly.

“It’s all I wanted from the start.”

Aemond smiles, leaning toward you and connecting his lips to yours. You sigh against his mouth, as his hand snakes around the back of your neck, keeping you from going anywhere. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips, and you part them eagerly accepting the warm muscle into your mouth. 

Your hands bury themselves in his scrubs as he turns his head, deepening the kiss. His opposite hand reaches for your waist, sliding down to rest on the meat of your thigh. He rubs soothing circles there for a moment, before gripping you hard and pulling you on top of him. 

You straddle his waist as he scoots backward, pressing his back flat against the wall. He breaks the kiss for only a moment, tugging your blue scrub top over your head, before desperately chasing your lips once more. Shivering in the cool air, your nipples harden in your bra. You almost wish you’d worn something a little sexier, the plain black bra making you feel underdressed. 

Aemond eyes your tits like a madman as his skilled hands eagerly unclasp your bra, pulling it from your torso. 

“Should we be doing this--” you gasp, grinding against the hardness between his thighs. 

“Yes, yes we should,” he says, kissing you once more before pausing, his eyebrows knitting together, “Unless you don’t want..”

“No! I mean--fuck, yes, yes we should and I want to,” you whimper as his teeth graze against your neck, “But I mean, here…” Aemond continues his attention to your neck, his perfect mouth nipping and sucking the sensitive skin.

“No one’s coming,” he murmurs, “You locked the door, yes?”

You nod, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, groaning as you clench your fists, tugging at his hair.

He catches your lips once more and you arch your back, pressing yourself against him trying to get as close as humanly possible. Moaning against his mouth he chuckles softly, the sound reverberating against you. 

“Shh,” he croons, brushing some hair from your face, “You have to be quiet.” He nips your lower lip as he says it, smoothing his tongue along where he bit, “Something you have trouble with, I recall.”

Your cheeks warm at the memory of your first night together, the puddle he’d turned you into with such little effort. Lashes fluttering, you look up at him as he admires you.

“You’ll have to remind me,” you tease, earning a growl from him as he flips you onto your back beginning to pull your scrub pants from your body.

Eager to assist, you kick wildly trying to get the soft material off. Aemond catches your right calf in his large hand, trying to avoid being kicked.

“Careful,” he chuckles, pressing a hot kiss to your calf, helping you out of your scrubs, shoes, and underwear. 

“Sorry,” you manage to say through your giggles as he tosses the ball of clothes toward the opposite bed, “We’re a bit uneven now, wouldn’t you agree?”

Grinning, Aemond pulls his scrub top from his body as thunder crashes outside. The sky has darkened considerably and lightning flashes, illuminating the room. Aemond’s hands travel up your calves, hooking against your knees as he cocks an eyebrow at you. 

“Better?”

Your eyes trace down his exposed front following the planes of his chest, the chiseled outline of his abdominal muscles. You swallow, feeling yourself clench as your gaze rests on the outline of his hard bulge.

Nodding, you take your lower lip between your teeth, dragging your gaze back to his face. Aemond’s breathing is heavy as he sits on his haunches, eyes raking down your naked body.

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he breathes appreciatively, “Gods…” He lets one hand move up your body, fingers dancing against the skin of your waist, up the side of your ribs to your breast. He explores higher and higher until with a desperate whine you reach up pulling him toward you.

You could kiss him forever.

You want to kiss him forever. 

The hand that rests on your leg curls inward, stroking the soft flesh of your inner thigh before inching higher. Your breathing has started to turn to pants as Aemond lets one of his long fingers part through your silky folds, spreading your arousal. 

“Seven hells,” he groans, swirling his finger against your clit, “All this for me?”

“Mhmm,” you tell him, biting your lip and trembling against him already.

Aemond only smirks, that familiar look of confidence in his eye, “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes,” you tell him, as the tip of his finger sinks inside of you, “Fuck-- just for you.”

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, pushing further inside of you, stretching you out on his forefinger. A second finger soon joins and he scissors the digits against your fluttering walls.

You’re trying to be quiet---really you are trying--- but it feels too good. He’s too precise with his movements, too insistent on bullying that sensitive rough patch that causes your eyes to roll back in your head. “Aemond…I can’t--”

“Shhh baby, I know, it feels too good to be quiet, huh?” he says, voice full of mock sympathy, “Don’t worry, I’ll make you cum really quick, let me take care of you, yeah?”

You nod furiously, a choked moan escaping you as Aemond presses a tender kiss to your forehead. Moving away from you, he keeps up his relentless pace with his fingers as he slides onto his stomach on the bed. Your eyes widen as Aemond glances up at you from between your legs, a cheeky smile on his handsome face. 

“Aem----oh fuck!” your concern is short-lived as Aemond presses his mouth against you.

His tongue traces lazy circles over your clit, groaning, “Hells, I missed this sweet little pussy,” he mumbles, taking the sensitive button between his lips and suctioning around it. 

Throwing your head back against the pillows, your back arches, and your mouth opens in a silent scream. The rain continues to pour outside, the drumming against the window matching that of your racing heart. 

“Oh yeah, I know that’s so good, huh?” Aemond mumbles between licks of your clit, his free hand snaking upwards to grope at your breasts, “Fuck you look so pretty…all whiny and desperate.”

He curls his fingers as he says it, massaging the tender spot inside of you causing your pussy to spasm against his fingers. His tongue traces nonsensical patterns around your clit, his lips sucking and releasing causing lewd wet noises to echo through the room.

“Next time,” he murmurs a quiet promise, “Next time, when I’ve got lots of time…we’ll see how long I can keep you like this.” His fingers pinch your right nipple, tweaking it harshly.

Your belly tenses, muscles constricting against his fingers as he returns his sweet torture on your clit, and you finish with a muffled sob as you turn your head, pressing your mouth against your shoulder. Aemond murmurs soft praises, talking you through your orgasm as your legs shake around him. 

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck,” you hiss through your teeth as he slowly pulls his fingers from your fluttering pussy, bringing them to his mouth. 

You watch, wide-eyed as he sucks the lengthy digits, moaning at the taste of you.

“Turn around baby,” he says, sitting up, “Put your face in the pillow.”

Shakily, you turn on your hands and knees, before letting yourself fall to your forearms. Aemond slides his hand down your back, admiring the curve of your spine, spreading your cheeks wide. 

“Goddamn,” he murmurs, slapping your cheeks, causing you to yelp, “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

“You’re an ass man?” you tease, looking back over your shoulder.

“I’m a ‘you’ man,” he argues, grabbing his length and sliding it against your folds, “Now be a good girl, and let me take care of you.” The fat head of his cock pokes at your entrance.

“Please,” you breathe as he starts to slide in. Aemond pauses, groaning slightly.

“Fuck baby, you can’t say that all sweet right now,” he growls, “We don’t have time.”

“Please, put it in,” you whimper, cheek pressed against the pillow, drool forming a wet patch under your cheek.

Aemond’s hand cracks down on your ass once more, “Be a good girl you little brat.”

You whimper, your begging ceasing as he slides fully inside your tight, wet heat. The stretch of his fingers was nothing compared to his thick cock. Your walls tense around him, pulsating around his thick length as he bottoms out. Rocking backward, he slides nearly all the way out before thrusting back in. 

Electricity bursts through your veins, pleasure crackling through your limbs like the lightning outside of the window. The force of his thrusts sends your face deep into the pillow, muffling the sharp cries of pleasure you emit. You couldn’t stop if you wanted to, it feels too fucking good, the head of his cock rubbing ceaselessly against your g-spot as he ruts against you; he’s grunting softly, muttering praises all the while, his fingers digging into your hips. 

“Fuck,” he gasps as your knees slide down, legs shaking so bad you’re unable to keep them upright, “It’s okay baby, just relax I got you.”

Your legs bend against the mattress, thighs splayed, hip flexors burning with the deep stretch it awards you. Aemond never relents, just continues to slap his hips against the softness of your ass, his cock sliding effortlessly in and out, in and out.

“Aemond,” you moan, “Fuck it feels--”

“Yeah?” he groans, “How’s it feel baby?”

“S-s’good, Aem, fuck, it’s so good,” you whimper, hands fisting the sheets, the bed shaking with every harsh thrust. 

The bed grinds against your sensitive nipples and clit sending sparks of pleasure burning through you.

“Gonna make this pussy feel so good,” he says, leaning some of his weight on top of you, his face next to yours, “Gonna take you home after our shifts, you’d like that, yeah?” His arms hold him up, propped on either side of your head. 

“Yes, fuck please,” you agree, turning your face, and feeling him press a kiss to your shoulder blade.

“Gonna have you ride my face,” he promises, dragging his nose between your shoulder blades, “Wanna make that pussy feel so good, till you can’t fucking take it anymore.”

“Fuck Aemond,” you shiver with delight at his filthy words, at the promise of a repeat of the first night you’d been together. A promise of more. 

“Missed you too much,” he murmurs against your shoulder, sending warmth pooling in your belly, “Need you close to me.”

“I missed you,” you whimper, “Fuck, need you so bad.”

“I’m all yours,” he says, nearly whimpering himself, “Fuck baby, you’re so tight, feel so good clenching around my cock.”

“Yeah?” you ask, lifting your head slightly, and glancing back through hooded eyes.

Aemond maneuvers himself, leaning to capture your lips in a sloppy, heated kiss as he continues to pound into you. 

“Fuck….c’mon baby, one more time,” Aemond encourages as heat winds a tight coil of pleasure in your belly, “Can’t have my baby only cumming once, now can I? Come on, that’s a good girl.”

The pitch of your cries increases and you slam your face against the pillow to muffle your strangled cry as your whole body tense, pussy constricting like a vice around his cock as you come. It’s intense, it burns with a brutal passion that paints stars behind your eyelids. 

Aemond’s thrusts become sloppier and with a few more slaps of his hips, you feel his cock pulsate inside of you and the warmth release of his cum filling you up. You turn your cheek from the pillow, your body tingling with the remnants of your orgasm as you suck in a breath. Gently, Aemond pulls out of you, peppering kisses down the length of your spine as he does so. 

You hum happily as he slides out, placing his hands under your thighs and maneuvering you out of the frog-like position you were previously in. Your hip flexors ache, but it’s a good pain--well worth being fucked into the mattress. Aemond turns you on your back, brushing some hair from your sweaty forehead. 

“Hey there,” he says softly. The room is quiet, the rain has stopped. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever walk right again,” you tell him with a content sigh, “but that aside, I’d say I’m more than alright.”

Aemond chuckles, thumb smoothing your cheekbone, making you lean into his gentle touch. 

“Hold on,” he murmurs, standing up, walking to the adjacent bathroom, and flicking on the light. 

You watch him walk away, admiring his ass. He’s got a rather nice one. You hear him turn the water on and a moment later he returns with a washcloth. Not trusting yourself to stand, you simply spread your legs and let him clean up the remains of your combined releases. Your hips jerk as he carefully brushes against your swollen clit causing him to release a breathy laugh.

Beep beep!

The noise snaps you both out of your post-coital bliss bubble and you hurry to find your clothes. Aemond reaches for his pager, desperate to get his scrubs on. 

Beep beep!

It’s your pager this time. Shit, Baratheon must be pissed. 

Both of you scramble, switching scrub tops as Aemond accidentally tries to put on yours, causing you to erupt into a fit of laughter that is only stopped when he grabs you by the waist and pulls you in for a heated kiss. 

“Stop, stop,” you beg, pushing against his hard chest, “Shit we have to go.”

“One more--”

“You’re insatiable--”

“Oh I’ll show you insatiable,” he says, lips tugging upwards in a smirk, “You just wait until tonight.”

Your cheeks burn as you yank on your bottoms, fixing your hair. Sex hair is not an option, not when Baratheon will be up in arms about your disappearance. Glancing at your pager, you read what it says before clipping it to your waist. 

“Okay, I gotta go,” you tell him, shoving your feet into your sneakers.

“Meet me in the lobby? When you’re done?” he asks, unable to hide his smile as you walk to the door on trembling legs.

“Okay,” you tell him, leaning forward, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “And we could get dinner?” 

“Anything you want,” he says, cupping your cheeks and kissing you again, “Anything” another kiss, “At” and another one, “all.”

You hum happily, placing your hand over his, your entire body warming with his affection.

“I’ll see you then,” you tell him, unwillingly pulling away and unlocking the door.

You leave first, Aemond leaving a few moments later. Watching as he fixes the collar of his scrubs, you find yourself beaming. Aemond turns, catching your eye before turning down the hall, a small smile playing on his lips.

Gods, this is going to be a long shift.

note: hope you liked it!! LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!!

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[mysteria157]

Chapter One

Pairing: Black Fem!Reader x Hitman Toji Fushiguro

CW: Profanity, Hints of Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Comfort

Word Count: Don't worry about it.

Summary:

“I’m only going to say this one more time, Toji. I don’t do situationships. I don’t do friends with benefits or the occasional hookup. You want more? I want you to try. Earn me.”

His hands are so bloody, that if you ever knew the source, you would'nt want someone like him to try. He shouldn't be here, taking up so much of your time, asking for more. But he's selfish.

-or; Toji, a notorious hitman, moves to America for more money and a better life for his son. He didnt expect to sleep with you, let alone want more. When his dangerous life catches up to him, he takes on one final lucrative hit, but realizes this target has unseen connections hitting closer to home. Now he must navigate a perilous job while desperately keeping his criminal double life hidden from you.

Authors Notes: Hello! I hope you all enjoy this first chapter. As stated in the masterlist, this fic is a continuation from Maneater, so reading that will definitely help set the tone for this fic. I plan to dig deep with this story and really find my voice writing a different genre.

As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated! Enjoy and thank you for your support!

| Twitter | Ao3| Masterlist | Prologue | Next Chapter

Dividers: @royallaesthetics @eloquentmoon | Header: created by myself (fanart from Pinterest)

**Do not plagiarize any of my works or translate without my permission!**

…women like you drown oceans -Rupi Kaur

*** You ***

Pop!

The sharp sound of gum expanding and then exploding causes you to flinch, your eyeliner pen frozen just above your lid. Through the mirror’s reflection, you shoot a glare at the open closet door, where your cousin rummages through your clothes.

Pop!

She’s in her own little world. If this were any other circumstance, she would have been scolded for her habit of popping gum—a top offender on the list of annoying behaviors ingrained in both of you since childhood. You detest the sound, and if you were closer, you would have punched her in the stomach by now.

You and your cousin typically get along well, but she enjoys testing your limits to coax you out of your shell. The only way to shut her up is by letting her tire herself out during her talkative rampages or swinging at her when you’ve had enough.

Every day with her is a gamble of which will come first.

Your eyeliner is still hovering by your upper lid, suspended in place as you watch another sundress get haphazardly thrown against the closet wall instead of being put back on a hanger where it fucking belongs.

You can’t bother with trying to get violent with her, you’re way too preoccupied with other thoughts. More incessant thoughts like how to play it cool on a date. It’s not that hard, right? Be yourself, get a gauge of the man trying to impress you, entertain a few hours of your day and then back home to relax.

Easy.

If it were anyone else but Toji, then it would be easy.

You had buried yourself in double shifts and extended hours in the lab just to distract yourself from today. Anything to keep you busy and keep your mind off the fact that someone you are sort of interested in…wants to see you. And he reminds you every day when you look down at your phone.

Despite his admission of being a lazy texter, Toji is surprisingly consistent. But the messages take on a blunt form wrapped around a small pearl of care.

Toji: Eat breakfast. What good are you in a hospital if you pass out?

Toji: Stop taking on more shifts, its stupid. Go home and rest.

Toji: You better not be tired this weekend. 

No matter how hard you try to force your face to stay immobile, each text makes your lips twitch into a small smile. He masks his words in harsh deliveries, but the intention is obvious. The satisfying jolt that shoots up your spine when your phone buzzes with a notification from him should be embarrassing. It should be.

But you love it.

It’s absurd, really. Only two weeks have passed since you met him, hardly enough time to form any meaningful connection. Yet, that night at your uncle’s was unexpectedly delightful. Toji was, against your better judgment, charming and attentive, almost to the point of clinginess. And, undeniably, he’s attractive. And a fucking fantastic lay.

So, despite your instinct to ignore a man and the way they flaunt their feathers for your attention, you want Toji to bring that same energy as last time.

You lean your elbows back into the shiny wood of your vanity, focusing your attention on your eye as you lower the eyeliner to your skin.

Pop!

The sound makes you jump, disrupting your focus and smearing the eyeliner across your temple.

“Rene!” you bark, slamming your eyeliner down on the vanity top with a force that makes your hand sting, and you yank a drawer open in search of a makeup wipe. “Stop popping your gum before I come over there and beat the shit out of you.” As you wipe off the smudged makeup, you catch the reflection of your cousin emerging from your closet.

She embodies a beauty that’s almost blinding, matched only by her lively personality. So naturally, heads turn when she enters a room, her chocolate skin seemingly radiant wherever she goes. With her thick, kinky hair always in a protective style and her unshakeable confidence in her intelligence and appearance, Rene caught Shiu’s attention immediately, and he’s been captivated ever since.

She is one of very few in your family who truly gets you, who sees the world with clarity and understands its nuances and how to navigate through it without compromising her ideals. Since childhood, you’ve stuck to each other like glue. She understands you and your guarded demeanor, you understand her and her loud personality. She’s one of your best friends.

But at this moment, as she stands before you in booty shorts and a tank top that accentuates her curves, her twist out cascading from a pineapple updo, and an outfit draped over one arm, she is pissing you off as she pops her gum againwith a cheeky expression.

“I like your makeup.” A sly grin stretches on her face, enhancing her soft features. You ignore her, feeling your defenses rise as she effortlessly peels back your layers. The liquid eyeliner glides against the smooth brown of your skin, forming a subtle cat-eye as you pretend not to notice her approaching you from behind.

She gracefully settles onto your vanity top, ignoring your lipstick casing that teeters over and rolls across the shiny surface. You shoot her another glare before moving to your other eye. “You should put on some mascara too. When you give him head later today, I’m sure he’ll love to see it run down your cheeks and—”

You swing at her not even a second later, landing a solid smack on the side of her thigh. “UM Ow?!”

“Um?? Shut the fuck up,” you growl, sneering at her with a leveling scowl that you hope cuts through her.

It doesn’t.

Rene snorts, shrugging off the vanity and moving to your bed to change her clothes. As she pulls your dark jeans over her thick thighs, you can’t help but wonder if you should dress more…sexy?  Your jean shorts reveal enough skin, and the jersey fits snugly around your torso. You’re no stranger to dressing to the nines and making heads turn just like her, but you value practicality more than appeal. It’s a football game, after all, and you love football. Why bother looking overly sexy when you’ll be screaming and stuffing hotdogs and pretzels in your mouth?

Despite the logic, a hand of insecurity tightens around your throat.

Rene, like the annoyingly clairvoyant bitch she is, tastes the shift in the air and rolls her eyes at you through the mirror’s reflection. “You look fucking amazing. Toji asked you out—frequently, I might add.”

The memories of his persistence flash through your mind in a rush. Heated touches in the backseat of your truck, sweaty skin sliding against each other, and your mouth dripping with moans of satisfaction were constantly interrupted by his repeated question.

“Let me take you out.”

As if he couldn’t get enough. As if he wanted more. As if he wouldn’t leave your uncle’s house that night until you flat-out told him to leave you alone.

You haven’t entertained a man since your cheating ex, so your defenses remain high and guarded, fortified with brick and mortar, armed to fend off anyone who comes too close.

But in such a short time, Toji managed to advance further than others with hard skin resilient to your attacks, and a constant insistence to be by your side. He’s spoken to you in ways that would have landed others in the ER, yet his words were always laced with harsh care to make you confront your own overreactions instead of hiding.

“Stop acting up and let me be nice to you.”

“You’re not mean to men; you just don’t do bullshit.”

“It’s okay to be a little excited about this,” Rene interjects, slicing through the thick current of your anxiety.

And you are, excited and a little nervous, though you don’t respond to her, simply reaching for your clear lip gloss to finish your makeup.

By the time there is a knock on your door thirty minutes later, you and Rene are ready to go. Your curls are piled high on your head, tendrils falling to frame your face and your hairline slicked with curled edges. There’s a subtle shake in your hands wrapped around the handle of your front door, betraying the calm façade you wear.  As you open it, expecting Toji’s familiar face, you’re met with Shiu, a toothpick in his mouth and a gentle smile playing on his lips.

You greet him warmly with a hug, letting him inside. He can only hug you for a second before rushing past you and toward the direction of your room, anxious to see his fiancé. “Don’t fuck on my bed!” you yell after him, loud enough for your cousin to hear.

It’s only a minute later when there’s a knock at the door that makes you jump, shocking you into reality again as you realize that you haven’t moved since inviting Shiu inside. In your stupidity, you look through the peephole and swallow the gasp at Toji’s distorted form.

“I can see your feet. Open the door,” his deep voice cuts, familiar and commanding.

Your fingers curl against the wooden surface of your door, nails scratching lightly along the veneer as you wrestle with the innate temptation to be stubborn. Besides Nanami Kento—another close friend and coworker—Toji is the only man you’ve let talk to you like this. He’s a little bit of an asshole, but beneath his rough exterior lies a tender core that beckons you to peel back the layers like an onion, eager to feel just how soft the bulb is in the center. You’re drawn to him in a way you can’t explain, and it’s a longing that ignites a hunger that you haven’t experienced in a very long time.

With a resigned sigh, you swing the door open to be welcomed by the sight of him, a picture that leaves you momentarily breathless. You swallow the drool that pools instantly in the back of your throat, curl your toes in your sneakers to resist the urge to spring forward and slant your lips against his, and bite the inside of your lip so the twitching on the sides does not turn into a gentle smirk.

“You look good, baby,” his words roll off his tongue effortlessly, his gaze sweeping over you with a knowing intensity. It feels as though he’s studying a heavily guarded masterpiece that he finally has his hands on to steal. He notices every stroke of paint, every blotch that makes you who you are and it’s with a concentration that leaves you dizzy enough to grip the door tighter in your hands.

Though only a week has passed since you last saw him, his presence still grips you with a force that borders on intoxicating. Clad in a black shirt that accentuates his commanding presence, his broad shoulders exude a magnetic strength that summons you, stirring a primal desire to dig your fingernails into him like you did that night in your truck. One of his hands is tucked in a jeaned pocket, the other is behind his back, and jet-black locks brush his cheeks as he chuckles, undoubtedly amused by the dumbfounded stare that you’re still shooting his way. His scar cradles the side of his lips in a seductive curl as he smirks.

God, he’s so—he’s so—

His presence seems to fill the entire room, a tangible force even without crossing the threshold of your home. An urgent ache surges within you, craving the warmth of his embrace, the security of his strength.

“You gonna let me in or just keep your mouth open for the flies?” His voice breaks the reverie in your mind, a well-known blend of annoyance that fills your chest immediately. You’re reminded of how effortlessly irritating he can be, yet there’s a strange allure in his confidence.

At this point, you don’t have a quip loaded up quick enough to shoot back at him. So, you step aside and hold your breath as his large body crosses the threshold of your home.

The last time he was at your door, he barged inside with a barely contained fury and pulled you into an argument that stemmed from your unwillingness to be vulnerable and his lack of expertise in expressing himself. It was a weird song and dance that marked the beginning of something you still don’t fully understand. Now, he’s here with a slightly different demeanor, calm and self-assured as he plants a firm kiss on your cheek as if he’s a hardworking husband returning home just in time for dinner.

You gape at his nonchalance, watching in disbelief as he kicks off his shoes and pulls his hand from behind his back, presenting you a bouquet of flowers in a manner that feels both rushed and sincere. You look down at the flowers, wide-eyed and blinking to make sure the reality you are currently in isn’t actually a simulation.

Daisies.

Not the cheap, wilted blooms you kind of expected from him, but fresh, vibrant flowers. Their white petals gleam softly, each grain of pollen in the yellow center visible in the light of your kitchen. The stems are freshly cut, wrapped in a simple red bow and your chest is fluttering with a severity that unsettles you.

“I didn’t know what kind you liked. And I don’t trust Shiu with an honest answer so…” His words trail off, leaving unspoken sentiments lingering in the air.

 Your lips curl around words that won’t form, and you mentally sort through your book of tricks. It’s a book you’ve spent years filling after countless experiences. Men will do just about anything for pussy. There’s no reason to be shocked at why they do the things they do—they’re all the same.

But even from that first day you met, you have already shuffled through your book when it comes to Toji. Every time you look up whatever trick he tries to pull, you come up with an empty page. There’s never a solution or a pre-written response that you can use. You have no choice but to figure this out on your own and fill in the pages later.

“If you don’t like them, you don’t have to take them,” he cuts into your thoughts, words edged with a trace of embarrassment that he’s trying to cover up with frustration. “Just give them back—” He reaches for the flowers, and you reflexively pull your arms away, much to your own shock at the way your body moves on its own.

“I like them,” you blurt out, your voice not as strong as you want it to be but thankfully steady as the words leave your lips. “They’re very nice, Toji. Thank you.”

He drops his hand, shoves it deep into the pocket of his jeans before clearing his throat and giving you a sharp nod. His eyes take in your face for only a second before they flit away to focus on a random spot in your living room, a hint of blush on his cheeks that makes the fluttering in your chest pick up in speed. It’s a weird feeling that will consume you if you don’t stay in control.

So, you push it down, swallow the pool of saliva in your mouth so it can help the glide, all the way down to the pit of your belly to extinguish the embers that threaten to lick to life. You shuffle past him and into the kitchen to fetch a vase, your mind sorting through the symptoms of various pulmonary diseases to distract yourself from the giddiness of him getting you flowers.

A normal thing. The bare minimum for a man. But it makes you feel great all the same. They aren’t your favorite, not even close, but it’s a gesture that shatters your preconceived notions about Toji that probably shouldn’t be there in the first place.

“What are they?” he asks, face still pink below his eyes that linger on the countertop instead of at you. You untie the bow at the stems and slide the daisies into an antique vase with crystalline ridges, shooting him a questioning raised eyebrow in response. One of his hands gestures wildly to the vase you are filling with water. “Your favorite flowers.”

“Snapdragons.” Toji throws you a quizzical look, his eyebrows pinched together in a clear display of confusion that makes you chuckle. You push the now full vase of flowers to the center of your kitchen countertop, the sight warming your stomach no matter how much you try to stop it. “They aren’t in season, but there’s a vendor here that sells them in the Spring and Fall. Growing up, we lived right next to a river where they would grow. My father would pick them every year and bring them to my mother as a gift. Whenever they wilted, he picked more and replaced them…over and over until they weren’t in season anymore.”

You dig your teeth into the wet flesh of your cheek to stop yourself from rambling, the need to talk more about yourself is at the tip of your tongue. He’s quiet as he takes in your response, eyebrows twitching with fleeting emotion before they smooth out into their usual calm expression. Maybe it’s your eyes playing tricks, but he looks as if he’s locked away your little nugget of information and is ready to move on to the next thing.

More of you.

That gaze is now free of shyness and taking you in, sharp and cutting and rough around the edges, his green irises sliding down to the exposed skin of your thighs, and they must beckon him because he makes his way towards you with a dominating presence that tightens your throat. He walks around the countertop, avoiding the sharp edge from biting into his side and now he’s standing in front of you, looming and dwarfing you without even trying. You catch a whiff of his cheap cologne—a different scent from what you smelled before—but still rich with bergamot undertones that make you more curious than bothered at his frugal mentality.

“Can I kiss you? Or you gonna smack me instead?”

Even though he’s teasing, he displays the growing knowledge of your boundaries and the lengths you will go to protect yourself.

“What, you want to get smacked, Toji?” you retort, lifting an eyebrow at him, your neck tingling from the strain of looking up due to his height. God, he’s such a big man. Big and burly and just enough to overwhelm you in a way that you crave so, so much.

“Nah. I want a kiss,” he confidently responds, blowing away the cloud of lust from around your head.

He’s too close and yet not close enough. He smells too good, looks too good with a voice that’s too deep and melodic for you to ride on logic for a full day, but you need him closer, so much closer and—

Your back brushes against the edge of the kitchen sink, making you tense at the realization that he’s backed you up against it and is looking down at you with that nasty smirk you entertain more than you should.

“You…” you begin, trailing off when one of his muscular arms reaches past you to rest onto the counter on one side, still giving you an escape route even though you’ll take being trapped against him any time of the day. “You already kissed me on the cheek when you walked in without asking me. Don’t be stingy.”

Toji clicks his tongue in disappointment, the sound pushing a rush of electricity down your spine that’s generating too much energy between your legs. He shrugs, broad shoulders pulling up and down, stretching his shirt in the most delicious way. “That’s not enough.”

Although lust is darkening your thoughts slowly despite your resolve, you still have enough common sense to remember the kind of woman you are. You’re someone unwilling to tolerate fuckboy behavior and would rather humiliate a man than give in to temptation that would only embarrass you in the future. You have to stay in control. Just for the rest of the day to measure his intentions with a level head. Even though you feel heavy with lidded eyes, you slip into that second skin of yourself with ease.

“Ask nicely,” you whisper.

He takes the bait—like they always do—and slinks further into your space, his broad and muscular form brushes against your softer one. Your gaze remains indifferent as he asks to kiss you in a sing-song voice that’s borderline annoying and teasing, threatening to make you laugh despite your resistance.

You take in his question with a noncommittal hum and slide a hand up the soft fabric of his chest. The muscles underneath flex and twitch beneath your palm, echoing memories of that unforgettable night when you could slide your fingers on the sweat of his abs as you rode him for all he was worth.

Your hand rests against his cheek, watching as he slowly falls for your trap, inhaling deeply with his lips a mere breath away from yours before you speak calmly and softly.

“No.”

You stroke his cheek in a soothing manner before patting it a little too hard that’s close to a smack, yanking a grunt of frustration from him as he pulls away with an bothered growl. You relish in the sigh of his scar twisting when his face curls with annoyance, his eyes rolling and his arms folding across his chest like a child being denied dessert. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your lips, growing in intensity as his eyes narrow at you.

“You’re so damn annoying,” he pouts, and the fact that he truly looks put off for not getting a kiss only makes you laugh harder.

***

The sight and sound of cheering fans excite you, filling you with childhood memories of games with your father. As the four of you make your way through the large parking lot and in the direction of the stadium, you take in the display of emotions that cross Toji’s face as he is immersed in a part of culture unfamiliar to him. The intricacies of American sports are puzzling to Toji, you realize. While you wave excitedly to the fans who are tailgating and grilling food and playing cornhole, he looks on in disbelief. When you explain the concept of tailgating to him, his expression deepens even more. He doesn’t like the hecklers that litter right outside the entrance and try to sell nosebleed tickets twelve times the market price. He thinks porta-pottys are foul as he takes in the long line of people who wait along the side of the large parking lot. You can tell he’s a little overwhelmed, and aggravated by the new things he learns. But he doesn’t complain, content to listen to the three of you as he watches his surroundings.

Despite the array of emotions that engulf him, he keeps you by his side without a second thought. The closer you get to the stadium, the thicker the crowd gets. When you make it through security and begin the long journey up the stone circular walkway of the stadium, Toji wraps a muscular arm around you and rests his hand on your hip in a grip that conveys a protective strength that shoots fluctuating reactions through you.

At first, you think he just wants his hands on you, and you’re prepared to smack his touch away. But then your perception shifts; a random man bumps into you with a sharp elbow into your arm and he turns around with an angry expression ready to yell. The glare that Toji levels at him leaves the man sputtering and apologizing before he slinks back into the crowd.

Normally, you don’t thrive off blatant displays of masculinity, but the sight of the man running away from Toji’s imposing stare makes your stomach fill with a deep-seated lust that surprises you. Like you’re a cavewoman, watching her caveman beat at his chest when another caveman gets too close to you. Toji grumbles to himself about the sheer number of people, his voice tinged with frustration even though his reassuring touch is gentle as he guides you through the throng of people toward your seats.

Thankfully, they aren’t nosebleeds, and they give you a good view of the field, with players already warming up. There is a large group of kids who hang off the rails, squealing in delight as their favorite players come and say hello and sign their jerseys and footballs. The speakers boom with music and commercial ads, the warm air carries the smell of popcorn up your nose, and your blood pumps in excitement.

It has been a while since you attended a football game, distant memories of sitting on your father’s shoulders as you both cheered in the stands. Since his death, you haven’t had the drive nor the time to attend another. So, to be in this position again with a man you are still trying to understand, it’s odd. But it’s not unwelcome and you’re going to enjoy every minute of it. When you watch football at home with your family, you’re a different person. You are loud and unashamed to express your feelings when you watch the games unfold. You stand up and sneer and bark at the officiant who can’t even hear you. You argue with your family about plays and players who will never know you. You love every emotion that the game brings out in you, and you’re unashamed to hide it. Toji is going to see a side of you that will either push him away or make him slink closer for more.

So, when the game begins with the kickoff, you join in the collective screams of the crowd, waving a towel in the air adorned with the yellow and black of your favorite team that is playing.

To your surprise once more, Toji did his homework. He effortlessly explains the rules as you both watch the first quarter together, looking to you for approval to make sure he’s correct. His attentive nature transforms into active participation as he cheers alongside you, his voice deep and booming compared to your screeching.

In the second quarter, there’s an injury on the field and the clash of pads ceases for long enough that fans leave their seats for food and to stretch their legs. Shiu and Rene disappear to get themselves a drink and it’s just you and Toji in the middle of empty seats.

“You’re a screamer,” he teases, his voice low and appreciative as he leans on his thigh with a cheek resting on his fist. His hair flows in the warm air before settling on pale cheeks.

“Too loud for you?” you retort, even if mildly curious about what he thinks of this side of yourself.

Toji purses his lips as he regards you with relaxed eyes. “It didn’t take me long to realize you’re not a dainty little thing. And besides,” A smile stretches across his face, white teeth glinting with a sinister disposition before his lips load with a remark you know will be salacious. “I like my women loud.”

You can be loud if he wants you to be. Preferably in another place besides your car where he can thrust like a man mad between your legs and dig those gleaming white teeth into the skin of your neck—

Oh.

For fuck’s sake. 

Your blood simmers in your veins at the suggestion in his words. His eyes watch your throat when you swallow a thick pool of spit and that smile grows impossibly larger, a Cheshire cat looking at you with nasty intent. He’s too aware of the effect he has on women, and you have to look away from him to resist succumbing to the seductive charm that he wields naturally.

You steer the conversation back into your hands. “You were so curious about me when we first met but I don’t know much about you. Are you here in America for a reason? What do you do for work?”

In your own line of work, observation is key; every subtle cue from your patients holds significance, revealing layers of truths that they usually try to conceal. So, when you notice the tension in Toji’s jaw at your question, the way his features contort subtly, it’s a detail you slot into a drawer of curiosity that takes part of the file cabinet of Toji in your mind.

“I’m a private investigator,” he confesses harshly, catching you off guard. It’s a revelation you don’t anticipate. His imposing features give you the impression of a firefighter or maybe even a cop. Not someone watching others in his car, bugging houses and apartments, and gathering evidence. A PI? You open that drawer of curiosity again and slot away this information as well. He shrugs away the awkwardness that your silence brings, nonchalant and dismissive, avoiding your gaze. “It pays the bills. The hours suck sometimes but…the work is easy.”

“So…naturally I can’t really ask about the things you do?” you don’t hide the inquisitiveness that coats your words.

“It’s nothing glamorous enough to talk about.” And that’s all he offers you in response.

You have a myriad of questions swirling in your mind, each vying for attention from a man who is as tight-lipped as you. How did he even get into this kind of work? Who are his clients? Cheaters, embezzlers…or criminals?

That and so much more brew in your mind, tumbling over the other but ultimately dissipating when you sense his reluctance, evident from his still-averted gaze and tense shoulders.

“What about family? You asked me about mine, but I never got to hear about yours.”

Granted, you only told him about the members of your family who danced in your backyard when you both were wrapped in one another two weeks ago. He doesn’t know about the more intimate parts of your family life. He doesn’t know about your father’s death, or the estrangement of your stepfamily. But that can come later. Toji hasn’t given you enough of himself.

Toji’s features now morph into disdain, souring the air between you. The bright emerald of his eyes dims with a grayish overcast, the liquid of the irises hardening like cooling lava.

His response is terse, laced with palpable displeasure that intensifies the acrid taste in the air. “There isn’t much to tell. I don’t get along with them, and they do their best to not get along with me either.” The timbre of his voice is lower, menacing enough to let you know it’s a subject he won’t entertain. At least for right now.

You open your mouth to speak again, to maybe apologize for making him uncomfortable, to reassure him that you wouldn’t judge him over something like this. He shifts in his seat, clasps his hands together and absentmindedly picks at a callous on the side of his thumb. The pink flush on his cheeks is not one of bashfulness, but of frustration and embarrassment. From the sliver of his eyes you can see, there is something simmering beneath the surface that might take you a while to unveil.

 “I do have a son, though.” The sentence shoots into the air and down your spine with a chilling clarity, breaking the flow of your thoughts as you blink in astonishment.

Pardon???

Considering he’s a grown man a few years older than you, it’s understandable. But the notion of him being a father never crossed your mind. The concept of children isn’t foreign to you; you see and take care of them every day. It’s the concept of children coming from him that’s a new development you have to consider.

While you believe you can handle a relationship with a single father, you’re upset at being told now, rather than before.

“You were with me all day two weeks ago and you never took the time to mention you have a son?”

You don’t hide your irritation. Once your trust is lost, it’s almost impossible to regain. Why would you give away sacred pieces of yourself to a man you wouldn’t trust to hold those pieces with care?

Despite your frustration, you rationalize.

Maybe Toji was nervous to bring it up? Some people may like to ease into such topics. This relationship, or whatever this is, is brand new and smooth. There haven’t been any cracks caused by arguments or behavior that is damaging.

But this isn’t about having a job that he’s not proud of or admitting that he is not financially responsible. This is about an entire child, a facet of his life that he cannot hide away. How long would he have waited to tell you if the topic of family hadn’t come up so soon? Would he have told you? Would he hide his son away and push him off to a babysitter on date nights so you are never aware? Would he sleep over at your house, so you can’t see the room that’s decorated for a child or the toys scattered about the floor?

As you wrestle with the growing anxiety that crawls across your skin, Toji fumbles for something in his pocket, his face a satisfying beet red as you watch him hand you his open phone. Bright from the illumination of the screen, you take in a picture of a young boy who bears a striking resemblance to Toji. His raven locks spiky and disheveled, his green eyes sharp and ethereal, and he wears a bored and calm expression just like his father. The chubbiness of his cheeks and innocence in his eyes tug at something in your chest; he can’t be any older than six years old. The sight of the boy makes you think of the many kids you take care of every day, and some of the frustration subsides within you.

“His name is Megumi,” he informs you, shy despite his rough exterior. He picks at the callous on the side of his thumb again, and one of his legs begins to shake in place.

The frustration dies down more. It’s a beautiful name, and as you look at the picture, a small smile tugs at your lips. You wonder what kind of a boy he is.

“Fuck listen—just I-I’m shit at this.”

You look up at him and take in the apprehension on his face. His lips are downturned in a gentle frown, the scar on the side of his face warped along with the muscles of his mouth. There’s a sense of shame in his gaze, and it somehow makes you feel relieved to know that he can feel just how upset you are.

“I don’t date women…I fuck them and stay around until they want me gone.” He doesn’t bother to sugarcoat his words. They shoot out of his mouth, piercing your skin with their directness. It’s a little painful, and you struggle to absorb his blatant honesty, feeling flashes of anger and indignation fill your chest as your lips part, ready to respond with directness of your own. “But you’re the first woman in a long fucking time that’s made me want more. So just…” he trails off, stuttering over what to say before ultimately growling low in his throat into silence.

You hesitate, lips flinching and syllables of fury dissipating in the small space between your top and bottom lip. “You gonna let me meet him?” you snap because you’re still mildly irritated as you give him his phone and pinch the muscle of his bicep with a harshness that reflects your fading anger and your desire to see him squirm for his actions.

He swats your hand away as if you’re a pest, moving his arm from you with a sneer that holds no malice. “No let me just lock him in my closet every time I want to see you—of course, I’ll fucking let you meet him.”

You throw him a withering glare, ignoring his sarcasm, and the smirk that slides onto his lips only makes you want to either smack or kiss him. The fact that you can’t decide on which only annoys you more.

*** Toji ***

“Gimme two hot dogs and a pretzel,” Toji mutters to the concession stand attendant. It’s halftime, and the walkways behind the stands are crowded with fans hurrying to go to the bathroom, or for more food and alcohol. You stand close to him, a welcome warmth that he wants more of but refuses to ask for on the off chance you deny him. He doesn’t feel like pouting for the rest of the day.

“And what’ll it be for the lady?” the attendant asks with a level of humor that is off-putting, a smile on his face that Toji knows you itch to smack off.

“It is for the lady,” you correct, a hint of condescension falling from plush lips that you still won’t let him taste. The attendant sputters, his face red as a tomato as he takes the rest of Toji’s order, doing his best to ignore the deadly glare you shoot him as he counts Toji’s money. A snort rattles from Toji’s chest as he watches you. He’s known from the beginning that you’re fiery, but seeing it firsthand fascinates and arouses him at the same time.

This environment is different for him, odd in every way, and a foreign ground that he’s unsteady on. The celebratory atmosphere reminds him of the loud laughter and fireworks from festivals that he could hear outside the Zenin compound throughout the year. He thinks of the Tanabata festivals he never got to experience or the years of Hanami that he was forbidden to enjoy. He could only take a small bit of pleasure in cherry blossoms in the Zenin gardens, blooming and scattering their petals on the well-kept grass to mark the beginning of the season. As a child, he was never allowed much. He was seen as ‘inferior trash’ that was insignificant and unworthy to be looked at let alone talked to unless it was to yell or belittle. Naturally, his family didn’t want others to see where said trash came from if they could help it.

He can’t think about it right now—he won’t. The thought of his family brings a tight coil of pain and anger in his chest, a coil he had used as fuel to cope with his dangerous decisions.

There’s so much more that he needs to focus on, like the fact that you’ve already taken a big bite out of one of your hot dogs. Half of it has disappeared from your hand, and there’s ketchup on the edge of your mouth as you chew. He notices the way you shift your hips from side to side in your seat, and the satisfied hum that escapes your throat. You’re satisfied, and while you eat with manners, you don’t hide your boisterous enjoyment, finishing one hot dog and moving on to the next, your pretzel wedged between the meat of your seductive thighs.

He’s been trying to be respectful all day ever since you denied him a kiss in the kitchen, but you’re tempting him. When you answered the door earlier in the afternoon, the hand that was in his pocket pinched the side of his thigh until the shameless thoughts could fade away.

You’ve graced his presence with shorts and a jersey, a yellow and black number that lays against your chocolate skin in a way that still seems to make you glow in the setting sun. No braids this time, your natural curls have fallen from your bun after screaming so much, framing your face and causing your gold hoops to wink at him. You didn’t wear makeup that night when he met you, so the sight of eyeliner on you today, and the way it accentuates the curve of your eye and the heaviness of your long lashes, it makes him shift in his seat.

He’s had to clench his jaw and bear the pain of his teeth grinding against each other to stop himself from ogling at the mouth-watering canvas of your legs. You’re all curves with dimples at the bottom of your thighs when you sit, and his gums ache to sink into the flesh so you can squeal and beg for him to touch you where you want it most. It’s been weeks since that night and he’s feigning for more. When you smile at him or shoot him a glare, it reminds him of that commanding aura you had in the backseat of your truck, and the back of his neck prickles with sweat.

While the thought of you skinning him alive if he decides to be a Neanderthal turns him on, he wants to be civil. In your kitchen earlier today, you allowed him to get close enough to feel the heat radiating from your skin, to catch the scent of coconut from your curls, tantalizing his senses until your firm ‘no’ sobered him up immediately. It was a stark reminder of who you are, and how little you tolerate.

He'll behave.

His eyes catch you guzzling down five heaping gulps of your beer, the foam coating your upper lip. You wipe it away with your finger, sucking the digit into your mouth, and popping it out completely oblivious to how sinful you look and Toji’s catapulted into that day when you sucked your own cum off his fingers.

He has to behave.

The vibration of his phone in his pocket sours his mood immediately, turning his gaze from your form as he digs into his pocket. It’s the third time it’s buzzed today, and he knows who it is. No matter how hard he tries to ignore it, he can only put off his job for so long.

Unknown: Good job on the assignment last week. 

Unknown: Your pay should be in your account by tonight.

Unknown: There’s another contract for you if you’re interested. Message me back and I’ll send you details.

“Everything okay?” Your voice pulls him from his phone, and he meets your curious gaze, one of your elegant eyebrows lifting in question as you assess him. “Something with work?”

“Yea,” he replies and regrets it immediately.

Lie #1

It’s not a complete lie—it is work—but the details…

Toji takes a long swig of his beer, attempting to soothe the shame that washes over him.

You really are a screamer.

Toji sits back in his seat, watching you with a wicked smile as you unleash a torrent of colorful language that makes his cock twitch. Even though you roar with the crowd, your voice rises higher.

“That’s a fucking flag! I should come down there and officiate for you instead you stupid piece of shit!”

Your curls brush the skin of your cheeks that puff in your frustration, your arms folding across your chest as you cock your hip and growl beneath your breath. You’re easily the loudest one in this section of the stands. Rene revels in it, egging you on by rooting for the opposite team and giggling when you bark at her. Shiu is content to watch the display, a fresh toothpick in his mouth and an arm over Rene’s shoulders as he idly twirls a lock of hair at her nape. You’re all yelling and sputtering indignation as you watch the game unfold, your team losing by what Toji has learned is a touchdown.

He knew this side of you was there. He could tell in the weight of your gaze that night. It's a side of you that he did not expect to see so soon. He soaks it in. He takes in the way you cuss out the man three rows down who won’t stop glaring at you. He absorbs how high-pitched the screech of your voice makes his eardrums shake, and he revels in the smile that forms on your lips when your team scores the game-winning touchdown.

When there are lulls in the game, you tell him about your career. You’re a pulmonary pediatric fellow at a hospital here in town that’s only a year and a half from completing your fellowship. You smile when you talk about the kids you take care of and your associates at work. You’re proud of your research and of how far you’ve come.

All of it, every part of you that you show him, is comforting. Warm despite how cold you appear. It’s a comfort he didn’t imagine having…ever in his life—especially a dreary life like his. But he soaks up this—you—as much as he can.

When the game is over, you’re elated and giggling, tucked into his side as he guides you through the drunken crowd. The moon is high in the sky, and it bathes your skin and makes you stand out in the crowd. You look up at him, smiling softly with a buzzed gaze that’s two beers deep.

“Did you have fun? Not bad for your first American game?”

“You screamed the entire time,” he teases, chuckling at the way you gape up at him and then sneer before turning away. He throws his arm around your shoulders, using the touch as a safe territory to keep his hands to himself, and pulls you closer.

You demand cotton candy which he indulges in as well before you both part ways with Rene and Shiu. The journey back to your apartment is a quiet one. As Toji drives, the warm July air fills the car, mingling with the faint strains of classic rock playing on the radio. Toji watches with flickering glances as you hum along, your eyes closed and the breeze wafting through your curls loose around your shoulders.

Something inside of him rattles. Whatever it is, it’s long-forgotten and buried deep within him, surrounded by cobwebs and dust that have accumulated over time since that dark day years ago.

*** You ***

From the short journey of his car to inside of your apartment, you repeat to yourself that you have to take this slow, for your own peace of mind.

You keep the most intimate parts of yourself locked away and only those who are worthy of you have a copy of the key. But somehow, and in such a short time, Toji has stolen a copy for himself and slotted the key into the door. But thankfully, the door is caught against the wall, hinges rusted over and ungiving.

You have to know more about him before you let him in to look at those parts of you. If you jump the gun and give him more so soon and end up hurt, it will throw you into a depth of pain that you promised yourself to never touch again if you could help it.

“You have a good time?”

Toji’s voice breaks the silence, his arms folding tightly across his chest, betraying the restlessness in his hands. His messy black locks, tousled by the late July humidity, partially hide his emerald gaze, which flickers briefly to meet your own before darting away.

Your socked feet pad across the hardwood floor, closing the space between you, and your head slowly tilts to look at him. Despite his façade of composure, his scar curves against his lips in a slight twist, twitching as he tries not to frown. Thin eyebrows pitch down in frustration, and you catch the way his fingertips drum against the skin of his biceps. He’s fidgety—nervous. Is he upset with himself? Ashamed that he couldn’t take you out on a proper date with dinner and a movie like everyone else expects?

Hopefully, he will learn that you go against the grain of proper in so many ways.

“I had a great time,” you confess softly, noticing the subtle relaxation in his stance at your words. The thrumming of his fingers stop, the tension in his shoulder fades. “You wanted to take me out and I let you. That all you want from me?”

He’s such an expressive man.

His face twists, perturbed by your bluntness and the prospect of delving into emotional territory. “I told you already that I want more.”

His declaration sends a fluttering through your heart that is reminiscent of the feeling you had when he surprised you with a slice of yellow cake. It’s comforting, and you want to lean into it. But it’s not enough to overwhelm you. You’re still in your right mind and still aware of your expectations even though he captivates you.

You press your finger into the firmness of his chest, hard so that the muscle pillows around your digit. The gaze you shoot up at him is unyielding, serious, and menacing enough that he straightens his spine just a little.

“Listen to me, because I’m only going to say this one more time. I don’t do situationships. I don’t do friends with benefits or the occasional hookup. I’m not saying things need to be serious with us but…you need to show me that you mean it.”

As you speak, you assess Toji, who shows no signs of amusement or ignorance. His posture is rigid, his back ramrod straight, and his deep green gaze locked onto yours.

“That night we had was great. I won’t deny that but…I won’t compromise my expectations and I don’t tolerate bullshit. I’m not going to let you fuck me just because we did it before. You want more? I want you to try. Earn me.”

You relish in the way his eyes widen, contemplating your words and the severity beneath them before his face smooths back into its usual cool demeanor. He unfolds his arms from his chest, and you curse inwardly at the way you immediately watch his shirt stretch across defined pectorals.

“You know you’re a feisty little thing.”

Heat from the way he speaks and annoyance at his lack of attention flare within you like wildfire. You open your mouth to yell, to bark at him to be serious, but the sound of his laughter extinguishes that fire inside of you instantly.

He doesn’t offer an apology for his comment and you don’t need one. You know you’re feisty and steadfast. It’s the only way you can function around men to survive, to stay afloat and still have a grasp of who you are. And if Toji couldn’t handle it, you definitely wouldn’t have slept with him or entertained a date that you thoroughly enjoyed.

“I’ll try,” he finally offers, voice soft but filled with conviction. Normally the small remark would offend you, but surprisingly coming from Toji, it’s enough.

Observing his behavior today and a little bit two weeks ago, you note his acceptance of your quirks and individuality—at least the bits you allow him to see. He marveled at the amount of food you ate and joined alongside you. He let you babble to him about every single player on your favorite team and how many championships they had won. He let you display your strength in your voice and personality, didn’t try to control or overshadow you like so many other past experiences you’ve had before learning how to rule the men in your life.

He let you be yourself.

And that thought makes you finally open your mouth to give him something he had asked for earlier, something you had previously denied despite your own desires.

“You can have your kiss,” you offer with a shrug, feigning nonchalance even though your heart picks up in speed as the implication registers on his face. “So you better do it right.”

It’s an invitation that he snatches away from your imaginary hands and tears open with thick fingers, greedy and growling with finality.

His sharp gaze traces the contours of your body, unabashed in its appraisal, leering at the pieces of skin visible to him. You know he’s been looking at you all day, but his observation now is intense, heavy and without reservation and you’re fumbling from the sudden rush of longing that pumps hot through your veins.

Toji inches closer, your hands instinctively find their way to his chest, his towering presence overwhelming your small stature. His height ignites an evolutionary desire in you that makes your mouth water, makes your cunt pulse with need beckoning for him to fill the mold he left inside two weeks ago. You’re still not used to climbing up the summit of him, so the air is thin once more, pulling the oxygen from your lungs and stuttering in your chest when a large hand cups the side of your neck and tilts your face up to him like an offering.

When his lips slide against yours, your fingers in his shirt tighten. His touch singes the ends of your nerves, boils the blood in your veins that pump fast throughout your body. Your skin is burning, searing when muscular arms hoist you up and wrap your legs around his thick waist before your ass is sliding on the cold marble of your kitchen counter, your lips still sealed against his.

There’s so much of this that feels like that night at your uncle’s. So much and yet not enough.

He drowns you with his touch, digs his fingers into the plump flesh of your thighs before yanking you, hard and with unforgiving impatience, closer to his body. The fabric of your jeans rubs too harsh against your wet panties, digs against the sensitivity of your clit and you repress the insatiable yearning to roll your hips against his.

Toji’s large hands slide up your body, traversing the mesh of your jersey that hugs you before cupping each side of your face again to tilt you sharper in the way he wants. Blue raspberry from the cotton candy you both indulged in after the game coats his tongue that licks your bottom lip in a silent request for entrance, and you grant him access, surrendering a whimper into his mouth as his tongue slides sinfully against yours. Tastebuds kiss your own, slide against them with whispered promise of satisfaction if you just relax and melt further into him. Just a little.

But you can’t, god you can’t.

You’re losing control and you have to stay strong. You have to stay above the waters of logical thinking even though you’re sinking with every stroke of his tongue, with every sweet, hot breath into your mouth, with every inch of flesh that your fingers dig into his chest because you need more. More than a kiss, more than what he’s offering, and you know he can give it to you. Toji can pull you into the inferno he’s raging inside of your body until your clothes are scorched off and his skin is sliding against yours sweaty, sticky, and undulating with every roll of his hips.

But he doesn’t give you more. He doesn’t pull you further into that fire.

The intensity of his kiss dies down slowly, his lips pulling away from yours with a wet smack as you pant along with him. Toji kisses your lips once, then twice, nips your bottom lip to seal everything he’s given before smirking down at you. Too devilish and arrogant and you don’t have a working brain cell in your head right now to correct him. His hands that cradle your cheeks slide down to your upper arms, giving them a gentle squeeze before he speaks.

“You still gonna let me be nice to you?”

His words are an echo of that night, his own way of telling you that he’s here. That he wants more—that he wants to give you more. You just have to let him.

With your head still swimming and the pulsing between your legs refusing to calm, you want him to be more than nice right now. But remembering the boundaries you have set, you nod instead and sigh into him when he kisses you one last time, sweeping his blue raspberry-flavored tongue against yours before pulling away, acting as though it’s nothing, as though you’re not sweaty at the small of your back and trembling with desire.

“Lock the door for me,” he commands, words devoid of a questioning tone, but filled with a sense of security and protection that you lean into.

“O-okay,” you manage to breathe, your heart slowing back into sinus rhythm, only to jump again as he places one final kiss on your lips, then your nose. You frantically bat him away before you lose consciousness, because any more and you’ll drag him into your room and disregard everything you said five minutes ago.

 You watch him saunter away, pull his keys from his pocket, and twirl them in his hand before winking. “I’ll text you.”

It sounds so ridiculous coming from his lips, from a grown man who looks as if he doesn’t even know what a cellphone is, let alone a text message.

But it still makes your heart jump all the same.

You can only nod in response because your throat is too dry and heavy in the back of your throat with each swallow you take. You follow him to the door and roll your eyes at his annoying smirk before he closes the door behind him, casting your apartment into silence.

Your fingers wobble as they turn the locks of your door into place. You’re lightheaded, brain flitting through salacious memories of what you both did weeks ago and what you could easily be doing now.

You throw your back against the door and sag to the floor with an annoyed sigh.

*** Toji ***

Unknown: There’s another contract for you if you’re interested. Message me back and I’ll send you details.

Toji: I’m interested. Send me what you have.

[kairiscorner]

meetcute.

pt. 1

💭 in which you meet one of your high school classmates at your favorite cafe.

the relaxing ambiance at this cozy little cafe by the corner down your street was simply a treasure to you, it wasn't that crowded, the staff were pretty friendly, and they brewed your drinks and served your favorite pastries just the way you liked them. indeed, this crisp morning was just... a perfect blend of calm, serene, and—surprising.

when you arrived by the counter to pick up your order, you noticed someone familiar ordering. the minute he turned around to meet your gaze, his dark purple eyes widened; instinctively, he put his hand up to the side of his face, not to disrespect you or say that he didn't want to see you, he just... he didn't really comb his hair this morning, nor did he plan on meeting you of all people today. "choso?" you recalled his name, with him flinching at the fact you remember who he is.

he slowly lowered his hand and moved out of line, still keeping his distance form you, though. "ah, hey..." he muttered out, unable to make eye contact with you out of embarrassment. you gave him a small smile and closed the distance between you two, complimenting his effortlessly put together look, including the barely tamed bedhead. he chuckled under his breath, which morphed into a sigh as he ran his veiny hand through his light brown hair. "had i known i'd meet you today, i'd've made smarter fashion choices." he murmured, making you laugh, which made his face burn up in embarrassment.

you invited him to sit at your table to just talk if he wanted, and he shyly accepted your invitation. after combing his hair in the cafe's restroom and receiving his order, you reminisced how you once did the same gesture for him in high school—offering you a seat at his secluded table, away from the crowds, in the corner of the cafeteria. he always took the seat next to the trashcans, offering you the best side of the otherwise neglected and shabby table.

choso sipped at his frappe, his mind wandering as he began to recall and remember all those moments during lunch time with you. "yeah, i... i'm sorry i couldn't really get you any of the good tables, not like with those popular kids that'd invite you to all the great hangout places around and outside of school." "no! no, you have nothing to be sorry for. if anything... it was those moments where it was just us two, a couple of awkward teens behind the whole crowd, just being in our own little world together that made my high school life memorable. thank you, cho." you declared, expressing your gratitude for his subtle gestures of hospitality and concern for you.

once again, choso's cheeks burned up at your thanks, and at the mention of his nickname that you constantly called him back then after you both became friends. he turned away from you, biting at his straw, a sneaky red hue tinting at his cheeks. "don't mention it." he mumbled, making you giggle under your breath at how adorable choso was. his habits of acting flustered really stayed the same, and you felt more and more attached to this man the more you meet him.

"uh... can we do this again? y'know, meet at this cafe, um, talk, and... i dunno, do whatever you wanna do together afterwards." he offered, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do to make this conversation seem less desperate for him to see you again next time on his part. you raised your eyebrows, and your lips curled into a soft grin. "of course! same time next week?" "ah y-yeah, same time next week." he told you with a nod.

"then it's settled..." you confirmed, a childish little smile on your face as you extended your raised pinky finger out to him. "i trust you'll seal this with one of my binding vows?" you chuckled, making choso break out into a smile and shaking his head lightly. he relented, and wrapped his pinky finger around yours; your 'binding vows' of pinky promises were unbreakable.

the morning hadn't even fully begun for the man, but... choso's already looking forward to the rest of it, and for next week, right here, at the same booth at this very cafe, for him to see you and be with you all over again, having that same moment that feels like a gentle fire in his cheeks, that feels like the calm after a storm, like being in a field full of new, fresh grass—like being a lovesick, edgy teenage boy whose world revolved around that one special someone, for even just one moment, when everything feels perfect and right.

[vinnyhongnsfwgurl]

1st Vinny Hong FanFic? I literally have no idea what this should be LOL

Hello all Windbreaker fans and Vinny Hong lovers. This is my first Vinny Hong x female reader fanfic. I hope you enjoy and comments/feedback is always welcome! Thanks :3

So, I didn't realize what kind of fanfic this would be after I finished writing it LMAO. Complete despair and heartbreak hahaha. I just chose to write and not think to hard. tbh I'm pretty happy with it. Let me know what you think :) .... also I did not proof read haha I am lazy.

I think I'll do a part 2 to this one!

"y/n? ...... y/n?"

"Y/N?!"

You're head snaps up to look at your mother sitting in the hospital bed next to you. She looked at you slightly worried.

She tilted her head as she asked "Are you okay? I called your name multiple times."

You sat up straighter in your chair and nodded. "Yes. Sorry. I, uh, just got lost in my thoughts for a moment." A lot had happened in the past couple of weeks. My mother got very sick and ended up in the hospital for a second time, nearly dying due to a brain aneurysm. It had put a lot of stress on every part of our lives, mostly financially. We weren't poor, but we certainly did not have the luxury to not work and stay in the hospital for extended periods.

I had thought about picking up extra hours at my part-time job, but I knew it wouldn't help much and I knew my studies would suffer. I was already struggling to keep my grades up. Besides my part-time job, I had to train for the upcoming final race of League of Streets. I was a part of Hummingbird and it was amazing but like my personal life, it was a mess. So much had happened with our team.

The most recent event was Vinny leaving our team deciding to ride with the Ghost crew. He started doing small races for money, which were broadcasted online. I had seen a few. Everyone was confused and upset including me. The whole reason we created Hummingbird was to compete in LOS and win the price money for Vinny's mother but I guess he had different plans in mind.

"It'll be okay honey" my mom said as she reached for my hand. I let let her hold my hand. It was warm and reassuring.

I smiled. "I know mom. I'm glad you're alright .... I was really scared actually." I could feel the pressure behind my eyes build up.

My mom started tearing up. "I know. I know y/n. but it's okay, I'm okay." She squeezed my hand.

I just nodded. "yeah."

After a few minutes and making sure my mother didn't need anything, I hugged her goodbye and started making my way out of the hospital. I took a seat on a bench that was stationed right next to the entrance of hospital. I had taken a bus here and planned on taking it to get back home. It only took me ten minutes to get to the bus stop, so I had a bit of time before I had to leave. I was really tired and too stressed. I found myself looking for more quiet moments out of my day.

I looked out toward the street across from the hospital. It was already dark out, but there was quite a bit of traffic. Honking interrupted the empty, docile night every now and than.

I heard footsteps come around the corner that ended abruptly once they caught up to the bench I was sitting at. As I turned my head to see what or who it was, I hear a familiar voice.

"What are you doing here?"

Vinny. It was all I thought as my eyes met his. His red eye seemed strikingly brighter than it usually was. Maybe it's just because I hadn't seen him in awhile.

"Oh. I was visiting my mom. She recently had surgery." I explained. ".... Are you hear to see your mom?" I asked.

He was quiet for a second before answering my question. "Yeah, she's staying here."

"MMm that's good. Glad to hear she is getting treatment" I said.

"What about your mom? Is she okay?"

"oh yeah! The surgery went well, so everything is good." I gave a sheepish thumbs up. I always became painfully aware of how awkward I felt when interacting with Vinny. I was a fairly shy person and it didn't help how handsome I thought he was. It took time in the beginning for us to get along and establish a relationship. It wasn't hard for me to figure out soon after that I was falling in love with him.

There was a lot I learned about him after Hummingbird was formed and the more I learned the more I desired to be near him. He was hot headed and pretty reserved, but it never really bothered me. I always went out of my way to greet him at practice and I chat with him when I could. I never cared if it was just small talk.

He just stared at me for a moment before saying "Good to hear that."

I knew what what was coming next, or what wasn't. This would be the end of our conversation. I didn't want it to be.

"How have you been?" I asked.

"I'm fine." He said plainly.

"And Jack?" following it up with a smile.

"He's fine too."

Man of few words I thought. I was used to it but I always wondered what actually behind those words: I'm fine.

"Are you really doing fine? I know I'm probably not the first person you think of when you want to talk to someone, but you're my friend. I'm here for you." I blurted out without much thinking.

When I had mentioned how confusing and upset I was when he left our crew, it was an understatement. I was sad and hurt. I also felt so helpless. He left us all behind and had no desire to return.

I looked down at the backpack I held in my arms. There was so much I wanted to say, but none of it seemed enough.

"I'm sorry for everything that's happened. I know you're having a hard time. I wish you hadn't had to leave the team."

"I don't know why you're apologizing, y/n. You don't need to." He replied.

Vinny walked up closer to me until he stood just a few inches from my feet. I looked up and he gaze had softened just a bit.

"You don't need to worry about me. Just focus on yourself. You have a lot going on."

"Yeah."

There was a moment of silence as Vinny and I held each other's gaze.

Then Vinny turned to leave. "I'll see you later y/n."

Before he took another step, I reached for his hand. It was a light grasp, just enough to stop him.

"Come back to Hummingbird ..... at least, at some point. We'll wait for you. It's nothing without you"

Vinny just stared at me before pulling his hand away from my mine.

"Y/n."

"It doesn't matter if it's not tomorrow, or the next day, or weeks from now! J-just come back. Please." I could feel a increase in my heart rate and the pressure behind my eyes building up again.

Vinny sighed and turned away from me.

"There's no reason for me to come back." He said sternly. "There's nothing you or the others can offer me." He continued has he started walking away.

Something warm slid down the right side of me cheek. I blinked and more came out. I was crying.

I just stood there as I continued to watch him walk away. My crying only worsened and I could feel a lump form in my throat.

I can't give up on you Vinny I thought as I recollected the memories of us together and how much our relationship progressed.

I just can't Vinny. I won't. I love you.

After he was well out of my sight, I finally left for the bus station. I cried the entire way.

For once, I wished it wasn't so quiet out.

[followthebluebell]

what were q's issues? i tried to search your blog but tumblr is tumblr

Oh, that's because I never really went public with the extent of his problems. I didn't want to deal with the potential 'just euth him' comments, especially since I genuinely don't think a compassionate euthanasia would have been wrong.

Anyway, his butthole didn't work.

That's the short version.

I'm gonna put a more full history under the cut because it's really gross. Like fair warning. There's a lot of discussion of this cat's butthole, poop, and health issues. If you just want to keep imagining him as a cute little fluffball, maybe go look at his pictures instead.

Specifically, his anal sphincter didn't seem to function. His anus was just open and loose. Whatever was wrong with him ALSO seemed to affect his scrotum. Cats tend to hold their testicles pretty high and tight but his were super loose. I'm genuinely not sure if there's an actual connection there, but it was weird enough that it made its way into my notes about him.

He also had loose stools so he was just kinda constantly dribbling all over himself, whoever was holding him, his bedding, the floor--- you get the idea. He required frequent baths: he'd get a bath at the start of my shift and at the end, at the very least. Most nights had an evening bath as well. That way, he could at least stay somewhat free of excrement. This was terrible for his skin, of course; that's an excessive number of baths. It was just one of those damned if you do, damned if you don't situations. Considering the alternative was letting him sit in his own waste, we decided that baths were better.

He also wasn't gaining any weight. He wasn't taking in ANY nutrition from his food at all. Whatever went into him seemed to come right back out within a few hours. He was being tube fed for two weeks; he didn't seem capable of eating without grinding his teeth terribly. I genuinely wasn't sure how much sensation he even HAD in his anus until I caught him on camera squatting in a box.

That gave me hope more than anything else did. It at least told me he had nerve endings back there. It was just the sphincter or maybe the last inch or so of his intestine that seemed defective. Since he was such a sweet kitten otherwise, we decided to give him a chance to grow. The plan was to get him to UC Davis or a similar teaching hospital in the hope that they could extend his good intestine and sort of construct an artificial sphincter.

And then he just got over it. I picked him up to give him his morning bath and his butthole was just SLIGHTLY puckered. Over the next few days, I took a series of the grossest pictures in my fucking life and confirmed that his sphincter was sphincting. He started eating voraciously on his own. He started growing. He also stopped tooth grinding-- again, I don't know if this is significant, but it's another thing that made it into my notes.

I have no idea what happened, but I'm glad he's healthy. He just needed time to grow into his butthole or something.

[flowerandblood]

The Golden Cage (2/5)

[modern! mafia boss • Aemond x female]

[warnings: angst, domination, sexual tension, fluff]

[description: Aemond works with the mob and finds a new accomplice. His attention is drawn to his daughter, trying to isolate herself as much as possible from their criminal underworld. Angst, domination kink, a lot of sexual tension.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

Her father was furious with her, he only calmed down when she explained exactly why she had come to the club in the first place. They both quickly got into his car and drove to the hospital.

She felt her legs shaking the whole way, whoever he was, Aemond terrified her and made her shiver. She knew that he was someone very dangerous, seeing how the other guests of the club looked at him with fear.

They finally made it to the intensive care unit. The doctor told them that her grandfather's condition was stable, but would require rehabilitation. Her grandmother hugged her tightly as they entered the hospital room.

"Where have you been?!" She asked her son in pain, slapping him in the chest. "Business is more important than your family?!"

Eddard pursed his lips, looking away.

"I'm sorry. I was in a place where there was no phone service." He said quietly and humbly, clearly feeling remorse.

Her father went to the vending machine and brought them coffee and tea. They told Grandma to go home, promising to stay with Grandpa for the night.

When her grandmother left, she looked at her father with pursed lips. She saw that he was avoiding her eyes.

"What were you doing there?" She asked quietly.

Her father gave her a quick, uneasy glance, then turned back to his mug.

"I already told you. I had my business to attend to." He said, taking a sip of coffee.

"What kind of business do you have to deal with in a place like this?" She asked, annoyed that he was treating her like a stupid child.

Her father shook his head.

"The less you know, the better for you. Don't come there ever again. Got it?" He asked tensely and she looked away, angry and bitter.

She wanted to think that her father was a good, decent man, but she couldn't. She loved and cherished him, and at the same time she knew absolutely nothing about him.

After a few days, her Grandpa was able to leave the hospital. Her father used to visit them every day, helping him with his exercises. On Saturday morning, while she was eating her cereal, Eddard was getting ready to leave.

"Aemond is coming to pick up some papers, they're on the table. Give them to him if I'm not back in an hour." He said quickly and left before he could see her expression.

She swallowed loudly what was in her mouth and put down her spoon, losing all desire to eat, Harrold had the day off and she was home all alone. She didn't trust this man and she felt uncomfortable around him, so she prayed that her father would come back in time.

She was sitting on the couch in the living room, reading a book about the Polish kingdom in the 14th century, when she heard someone drive up to their driveway.

She felt a squeeze in her chest and swallowed hard hearing it, it was hot, she was wearing only an oversized T-shirt and shorts. She sighed heavily, thinking with relief that it wasn't a very inviting outfit.

She heard an impatient knock on the door and stood up, grabbing the papers her father had spoken of, walking barefoot to the door and turning the lock. She opened them wide, his eye wide open when he saw her.

His gaze quickly fled to her legs, chest and face. She pretended not to see it and extended her hand with a sheaf of papers towards him. They stared at each other in awkward silence and she wondered why he didn't just take it from her.

"Where are your manners, birdie. Won't you invite me in?" He asked dryly.

"I took you for a person who hates wasting his time." She said cautiously, looking at him expectantly, her hand still outstretched to him. He looked at her intensely, the corner of his mouth twisting into an ironic smile.

"I happen to be in the mood for coffee." He said low.

She swallowed hard and looked to the side, dropping her hand helplessly. She stepped aside, allowing him to enter and he did it without haste, slowly taking off his leather jacket.

She closed the door behind him, walked through the living room to the kitchen, placing papers on the table as she went, and opened the cupboard searching for a cup. She watched, looking across the bar, as he entered their living room, sat down on the couch, and picked up her book, opening it where she had left off.

"What kind of coffee will you drink?" She asked dispassionately and calmly, trying to sound at least a little warm.

"Black. Two teaspoons. No milk. No sugar." He said matter-of-factly.

It looked like he was actually reading her book.

She put water in the kettle, glanced at him, and sighed softly, her heart was pounding like crazy.

She prayed that her father would come by now and take over this conversation.

When the water boiled, she poured the mug and, with a heavy heart, walked back into the living room, placing it on the table in front of him.

"Thank you." He said dryly, not taking his eye off her book.

She pursed her lips as she looked at him, thinking that she couldn't just go to her room and leave him alone, so whether she wanted to or not, she had to sit with him now and watch over him. She sat down in the soft armchair next to him, drawing her legs under her buttocks, making herself comfortable, her whole body tense.

They sat in silence for a while, only the sound of him turning the pages in the room, she was surprised to see that he seemed to be drawn into what the author had written. He took a sip of his coffee once in a while, not stopping reading, and she thought that if she wouldn't bother him, maybe he'd leave her alone.

He turned the book over suddenly, placing his finger where he had left off, apparently he was checking the author of the entire publication.

"I'll borrow it." He announced calmly. She looked at him surprised, her mouth parted slightly.

"I… I need it for the exam." She said looking at him uncertainly, she didn't know if it was a good idea to say no to a man like him, but she wasn't about to fail the semester because of him.

He looked at her intensely for a moment.

"And the exam is when?" He asked, as if he wanted her to finish his sentence. She looked down on her knees.

"On Monday." She said softly. He rocked the book slightly left and right as he looked at her.

"Then I'll come pick it up on Tuesday." He said throwing the book on the table. "I used to study history myself."

He said indifferently, taking a sip of coffee, looking at the book absently. She pursed her lips, wondering if she should investigate further. There was silence between them.

"And what happened then?" She finally asked, unable to contain herself, she saw him smirk at her question as he pulled cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket.

"Many things." He grunted as he took the cigarette to his lips, intending to light it with his lighter. She stood up at once and reached out to take the cigarette from his mouth, but he gripped her wrist tightly, glaring at her warningly.

"Careful, little birdie." He said low and dark. She felt her heart pounding wildly, her chest tightening. She thought she wouldn't be intimidated by a stranger in her own home.

"No smoking inside our house. Where are your manners?" She asked, looking at him with a frown, mimicking what he said in a way. He looked at her intensely, his face completely frozen.

He finally took the cigarette out of his mouth with his free hand, the other still holding her wrist. Seeing this she wanted to go back to her seat, but he wouldn't let her, holding her tighter. He looked at her expectantly.

"Apologize."

Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Excuse me?"

His lips pressed into a thin line.

"Apologize."

She felt the tension between them could be cut with a knife. She looked at him defiantly.

"No."

She jumped in fear as he stood up suddenly, his hand gripping her jaw tightly, his other hand tightening around her wrist. He looked at her as if he wanted to kill her, towering her, their faces millimeters apart.

"What you did was impolite. I am your guest. Apologize." He hissed through clenched teeth.

She stared at him in horror and figured out that she didn't care. Maybe if he did something to her, her father would finally end his businesses with him.

"What you are doing is impolite. You barge into my house uninvited, want to take my book without my permission, and try to smoke without asking if you can." She said, breaking free from his grip, her chest was heaving fast.

He blinked at her, his jaw clenched tight, running his tongue over his mouth, looking at her thoughtfully.

"May I ask you for this huge favor, to lend me your book after your exam?" He asked ironically, articulating each word slowly and carefully. She knew that he was furious.

"No." She said right away. "You don't deserve it." She said angrily, grabbing her book and walking towards the stairs, leaving him alone, not caring what he do with it.

As soon as she entered her room, she heard a loud slam of the front door, and after a moment the sound of the engine starting, the screech of tires.

She lay in her room, continuing to read her book, enraged. She thought that he was a brutal, ironic, shameless man, who thought he could do anything to anyone. She didn't know who he was and she didn't care.

She had no intention of serving him or allowing herself to be humiliated in her own home, let him thrash herself like an animal. She thought he expected culture from her, and he had no respect for anyone or anything himself.

After a while, she heard her father enter the house. He ran up the stairs and opened the door to her room.

"What have you done to him?" He asked, looking at her incredulously. She blinked, not understanding what he meant.

"Who?" She asked innocently. Her father rolled his eyes.

"He's so pissed that he won't even talk to me on the phone." He said putting his hands on his hips. His daughter frowned.

"He was rude and insolent. He grabbed me by the jaw like some animal when I pointed it out. I don't want to see him here again." She said, going back to reading. Her father sighed heavily, running his hand over his face.

"He's not a person you can just chase away from our home." He said impatiently. His daughter looked at him angrily.

"Why? Because you're doing business with a man who will now kidnap me for revenge? Beat me? Rape me?" She asked furiously, tears of anger welling up in her eyes, her lip trembled, she turned her gaze towards the window, trying not to cry.

"Mother doesn't want me. With you are only secrets and dark deals. It's never safe. I have nowhere to run!" She almost screamed helplessly without looking at him, her breath and voice ragged and trembling.

She covered her mouth with a shaking hand, clutching her book to her. Her father wanted to approach her, but she moved as far away from him as possible.

"Leave me alone." She said in a trembling voice, without looking at him.

After a while, she heard him leave quietly and close the door behind him. Only then did she allow herself to truly cry.

____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @avgdusterfan @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @random-ocity @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @snh96 @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @aemondsfavouritebastard @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @bellameshipper

Others: @okfashionista @toodlesxcuddles

[merrybloomwrites]

You Can Start a Family (Chapter 2)

Summary: Movie night with the Rowland family shifts gears for the trio.

Thank you to everyone who read part one! I could not believe how many notes that received in just one day! If you haven't read it yet you can find chapter 1 here

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Tammy’s next two surgeries also went as planned and left her family breathing a sigh of relief. She spiked a post-op fever after the final surgery which extended her hospital stay by a few days, but once she became stable again, she was able to go home to finish recovering. She would be assessed to see if there were any more abnormal cells in her labs. If there were, she would likely begin a course of treatment but if not, she would be considered cured.

You had started to see Mitch and Sarah around more often. Once Tammy came home, they would all sit out on the front porch, since the fresh air made her feel better. Any time you were outside with Ryan you would pop over to say hi. You hadn’t met Mark and Tammy previously but were now very invested in her recovery. You would occasionally bring over more baked goods and sometimes a tray of food for their dinner. It had always been ingrained in you to help take care of the people around you.

You no longer fangirled when you saw Mitch and Sarah. After just a few quick conversations you were very comfortable with them, and they felt just like any of the other neighbors on the street. You actually felt closer to them than anyone else you had met in town. In the year you lived there you hadn’t had a lot of opportunities to meet people. Plus, the area you were in was home mostly to retirees. If you went to the center of town you were surrounded by the local college students who seemed so young. Even though Mitch and Sarah were a bit older than you and were pretty famous musicians, you felt like you got along with them quite well.

They felt the same way around you. Each time you stopped by they found themselves smiling, excited to talk to you and hear how your day has been going. They always invited you to stay for dinner when you brought them food, and after declining a couple of times you decided to take them up on the offer. While you didn’t eat with them all the time, you had been to their house on a few occasions over the past couple weeks. You enjoyed everyone’s company, and it was nice to have people to share a meal with again.

One evening about a month after first meeting Mitch and Sarah you were helping get dinner ready while Tammy and Mark were at a doctors appointment. Just as you were putting the last dish on the table they walked in the door. “I’m officially cancer free!” Tammy shouted immediately.

There was a second of processing time and the next thing you knew everyone was cheering and laughing out of pure relief. You found yourself hugging each member of the family. Each hug was fleeting, and after they ended you found yourself craving more. Aside from the occasional cuddle from baby Ryan, you rarely had any physical contact with anyone. Before that moment you hadn’t realized how starved you were for human affection.

You pushed that thought aside and focused on the conversation around you as everyone sat down for dinner. They all complimented you on the meal, as it was one you hadn’t made for them before.

“Thank you! It was always one of my favorites that my mom made. Took me a few tries to get it right, but I think I finally figured out all of the ingredients.” Sarah was watching you closely as you mentioned your mother and noticed how you once again spoke of your family in past tense. It had happened a couple of times, but Sarah had yet to ask any personal questions that would confirm her suspicions.

After dinner everyone moved into the living room to watch The Princess Bride since it was one of Tammy’s favorite movies. She and Mark sat on the loveseat and Sarah took the right end of the couch. You sat on the other cushion while Mitch set up the DVD player to start the movie. Once it was playing, he walked back to the couch, and you realized you were in the middle of the open space. You went to slide to the other edge, but Mitch sat there before you could move that way, pushing you to the middle between him and Sarah. It wasn’t exactly a large couch and you tried to make yourself as small as possible but that didn’t stop their limbs from occasionally brushing against yours.

Each point of contact sent a feeling of warmth through you that seemed to stay even after they moved away. You really thought you had gotten over your nervousness around the couple, but you were definitely feeling it again tonight. Shortly into the movie you started to think that this specific tension you were feeling had less to do with the fact that they were celebrities, and more to do with the fact that they were two people you found quite attractive.

It would be a lie to say you hadn’t formed slight crushes on both of them, even before you all had met. It was impossible not to, they’re incredibly talented and very easy on the eyes. You actively tried to squash out the crush now that they were real people in your life rather than individuals who just existed in videos on the internet. But in this moment, you simply couldn’t ignore the way they were making you feel.

Seeing you shiver, both from the feeling of Sarah’s thigh rubbing against yours and because you were legitimately a little cold, Mitch got up and grabbed a large blanket. He sat back down even closer than before in order to lay the blanket across the three of you.

In an effort to keep from freaking out about the now constant contact, you glance over at Mitch’s parents and realize Mark is very busy with something on his phone. A few minutes later the movie ends, and you immediately learn why.

Mark turns to his wife and says, “I’ve been texting with Susan and Jim. If you’re feeling up to it, they’d love for us to spend the weekend at the cabin with them. You could tell them the good news, and we can celebrate together.”

“I would absolutely love that! Thank you so much for coordinating this, dear,” Tammy replies and leans in to give her husband a kiss.

"And you're sure you feel up to it?"

"I can sit around the cabin resting just as well as I can sit around here resting. As long as you're not planning for us to hike a waterfall I'll be fine."

“Well if that's the case they'll pick us up tomorrow morning around 10.” “Oh gosh then we’d better pack and get to bed. It’s been too long since we’ve had a weekend away. And even longer since we’ve hung out with Sue and Jim. This is such a wonderful surprise.”

They walk over to the stairs and Tammy turns around saying, “Good night kids. Don’t stay up too late!”

“Mom, we're adults, I think we can handle a later bedtime on a Friday night.” Mitch replied with a smirk.

“I know, I know. A mother’s habits never go away. Y/N, feel free to stay over if it gets too late. These roads are terrible at night.”

You all finish saying good night and Mark and Tammy head upstairs. Mitch picks the remote up and starts playing Schitt’s Creek. You had seen it a couple of times before and it had quickly become one of your favorites. Upon learning that Mitch and Sarah hadn’t watched it yet you insisted that it be the next show they start.

The second episode of the night started playing and Sarah shifted next to you, putting her arm on the couch behind you. At first you thought she was just readjusting to be more comfortable, but a minute later you felt her fingers start to comb through your hair. You tensed at first but quickly relaxed, allowing yourself to enjoy the attention. After a few minutes of her fingers playing with the ends of your hair, she slid her hand to the left side of your head. You felt her put pressure on the side of your head, pushing you gently towards herself. Hoping you were guessing correctly, you leaned your head onto Sarah’s shoulder. She immediately placed her head gently on top of yours and began to scratch at your scalp. It felt heavenly and you practically melted at the attention.

Mitch was watching very carefully out of the corner of his eye to see your reactions to all of this. So far everything seemed to be accepted and welcomed. Mitch and Sarah shared a look communicating that it was time for the next test. You reacted positively to friendly touch, but what about something a little more intimate?

At the start of the next episode, Mitch slid his hand to rest on your knee as casually as he could. You again immediately tensed, first due to the surprise of the sudden contact, then because no one had ever touched you like that before, and finally because you realized this attention was coming from a married man. You had a brief moment of panic, wondering what he was doing. You looked down at your leg and realized it was a rather thin blanket, and you could easily see that his hand was resting on your knee. Which meant that Sarah could also see what was happening and chose that moment to place a soft kiss against the top of your head. It felt like a signal that everything was fine.

You once again relaxed, allowing yourself to simply be present in that moment and forced yourself not to overthink what was happening. Clearly Mitch and Sarah had some sort of agreement where this kind of physical touch with another person was okay.

You focused on the way Sarah’s head rested so gently on yours and on the shapes Mitch was drawing on your leg as he casually ran fingers back and forth. You knew this was all platonic, but you couldn’t stop the passing thought wondering what it would be like if his hand moved higher on your thigh. You tried not to think of that and instead got lost in the sensations once again.

You were no longer paying attention to the show, practically falling asleep as Mitch and Sarah lulled you into a mindset of peace, comfort, and safety. Suddenly the trumpets from the credits’ music jolted you awake, and you lifted your head off Sarah’s shoulder as Mitch’s hand slipped off of your leg. You looked at the clock on the wall and realized it had gotten quite late.

“I should probably be getting home,” you said, choosing to look at your own hands rather than at either of them yet.

“Like my mom said, you’re welcome to stay here. It's so dark on these streets and everyone drives like idiots.”

“Thanks, but if I don’t get home and feed the cats, they’ll poop on my pillow to teach me a lesson.” As much as you wanted to stay, you needed time alone to process whatever it was that just happened.

Sarah stood up from the couch first, grabbing the blanket to fold it and put it back in the basket.

As they walked you to the door Sarah asked, “Are you busy this weekend?”

“Aside from my normal weekend tasks of cleaning and going to the grocery store, my schedule is wide open.”

“Would you like to spend the weekend here with us? It’ll be pretty quiet with Tammy and Mark away,” Sarah continued. Mitch suspected what she was up to but kept his thoughts to himself for the time being, curious to see how you would respond.

After a brief pause you replied, “Yea, that sounds nice!”

“Great! Why don’t you come by around noon? We can start with lunch and see where the day takes us. Oh, and make sure to pack a bag, I’m thinking a slumber party could be quite fun.”

“Okay, but only if I get to braid Mitch’s hair,” you replied cheekily, causing Sarah to laugh and Mitch to roll his eyes with a hint of a small smile.

“Sounds like a plan,” Sarah states before pulling you in for a hug. Your arms wrap around her waist while hers tighten around your shoulders before she gently rubs your back. It was a longer hug than you were expecting, one that you had been craving since dinnertime. “Sleep well darling,” she says softly before giving a final squeeze and letting go. Mitch pulls you in next, holding you in a tight embrace that again goes on for longer than you expect. He places a kiss to the top of your head before saying a quiet “Get home safe.”

You blush and duck your head before glancing back up to say goodbye. You finally turn and walk to your car, your head full of confusing, but ultimately happy thoughts.

As they watch you leave, Mitch stands behind Sarah and wraps his arms around her waist. He leans down, pressing a kiss to her neck before leaning to her ear and saying in a low voice, “Are you plotting something?”

“You make me sound so devious Mitchell. I’m simply creating an opportunity for something to happen naturally.”

“And what exactly is this something that you hope will happen?”

“I guess we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out.” With that, Sarah turns around and pulls Mitch in for a deep kiss, breaking apart before they get too heated. After all, their room was directly next to his parents. That would simply have to wait until Tammy and Mark were out of town.   

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A/N: Thank you for reading chapter 2! The next chapter should be out in a day or two.

I've seen other people do tag lists so readers can get notified when new chapters are out. Would anyone want that? LMK!

[purplephantomwolf]

Love in Motion

Chapter Five

Synopsis: Lydia gets a wrong number text from Lando Norris.

Note: This is not an accurate portrayal of how the real people in this act. I do not know them personally, so I will not be portraying them accurately.

Warnings for this chapter: None

Previous Chapters: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four

Next Chapter: Chapter Six

Masterlist

April 22, 2022

7 pm Italy Time

Lando’s POV

     I walk back to my drivers room from the media pen. I grab my phone, hoping to see messages from Lydia. I frown when I see no messages from her. “Why are you frowning? You’re starting P3 in the sprint tomorrow!” Jon asks, walking into the room. 

     “I was expecting a message from someone by the time qualifying ended, but I’ve got no messages,” I sigh. 

     “He’s expecting a message from a girl,” Daniel says, entering the room. I sigh and roll my eyes at him extending the word girl. 

     “Yeah,” I sigh, “We’ve been talking every day, so I’m not sure why I haven’t got any messages besides her good morning message. She’s a big F1 fan, so I assumed I’d get messages about qualifying like I did last time.” 

     Jon puts a hand on my shoulder, “I’m sure she’s just busy.” 

     “Yeah, she probably is in class or something,” I nod. Daniel and Jon nod along with me. 

Lydia’s POV

3 pm Minnesota Time

     I grab my laptop, sitting down on the couch. I turn on the tv, pulling up qualifying for the Imola grand prix. My plan is to look for photography jobs while qualifying is happening. I’m having to watch a replay of qualifying because I have had class all day. I grab my phone so I can text Luke throughout watching it. 

Me: I finally am free, so now I can watch qualifying. Stupid school getting in the way of my hobby. 

     I set my phone down, not expecting a message back because it’s 10 in Italy. My phone vibrates immediately.

Luke: Oh good! I was getting worried after not hearing from you for hours. 

Me: Sorry, I had exams in my three classes today, so I wasn’t on my phone. 

Luke: All good! Let me know what you think of qualifying! 

Me: Don’t worry, you’re going to be getting all my reactions as I watch it. 

Luke: Oh good. I loved reading your comments after Australia.

Me: Good, cause I’m not going to stop. You’re the only person I know who likes F1. 

Luke: That sucks. Well, at least you have someone now. 

Me: Yeah! 

     I look up at the screen as Alex’s car catches on fire and a red flag is shown. 

Me: Holy shit! Alex’s brake is on fire! 

Luke: Yeah, that sucks when it happens. 

Me: I can’t believe you say that so casually. I would be scared as hell.

Luke: Yeah, but these guys can’t be scared of these sorts of things, otherwise they’d never get in the car. 

Me: True. 

     As I wait for the red flag to finish, I head to the McLaren job website. I’ve been checking different Formula 1 team’s job sites to see if any of them post anything about needing a photographer. I sigh when I don’t see any new postings. I switch over to the Red Bull site next. I see a new job posting and start to get hopeful. I click on it and the words “Red Bull Photographer” stare back at me. I immediately hit apply and start the application. 

     I look up at the screen when I hear the commentators say something about a yellow flag and Latifi. 

Me: Aww, Latifi spun. Williams just isn’t having a good day. 

Luke: No, they didn’t. 

     I turn back to the application, filling everything out. I submit the application with my photo portfolio just as the commentators go “And Sainz in the wall!” My head flings up to see Carlos’ car against the wall. 

Me: No!! Carlos hit the wall! Thank goodness he’s okay. I always get so worried about the drivers when they crash. 

Luke: That’s so sweet of you. It’s always worrying when drivers crash. 

Me: Yeah. I hope you’re staying dry this weekend. Looks miserable out there. 

Luke: I’m luckily in the hospitality all weekend. 

Me: That’s good. It’s bright and sunny here. 

Me: Hopefully it doesn’t rain too much during the races. 

Luke: Hopefully, that would be good. 

     I watch as the cars come out on track for Q3. I groan as Kevin Magnussen crashes and causes another red flag. 

Me: How many red flags are there going to be?

Luke: You just see Magnussen crash?

Me: Yeah, luckily it won’t be too long it looks like. 

Me: I still have 6 minutes left of Q3 but there’s 25 minutes left in the video. What happens?

Me: Ohhh! Valtteri is off! And it’s another red flag. 

Luke: Three red flags. It was an interesting qualifying. 

     I patiently wait for the red flag to lift. 15 minutes later the flag is lifted. I know I can skip until the flag is done, but I like watching everything I can on the sport. I groan when I see another red flag. I gasp and yell, “No!” It’s Lando who’s caused the red flag. 

Me: No! Lando crashed! Hopefully he’s okay! But hey! He’s starting P3 tomorrow!

Luke: He’s okay, happy to start P3 tomorrow.

Me: Oh good! He did great today. 

Luke: I should head to bed. It’s midnight here now. 

Me: Okay! Have a good night!

Luke: Good night, Lydia. 

     I turn off the tv and head into the kitchen to make some dinner. 

April 23, 2022

9 am

     I sit down on the couch as the five lights go out. “Oh no, what happened to you, Zhou?” I ask, seeing his car in the wall. “Ooohhh, contact with Pierre,” I hum, seeing Pierre limp around the track. 

Me: Poor Zhou and Pierre. 

Me: Zhou should’ve given Pierre more room, but it’s going to go down as a racing incident probably. 

Me: The fact that Carlos is fighting against Fernando, who is the driver he idolized as a child, is crazy. 

Me: Noooo, Perez passed Lando. 

Me: NO! Carlos! How could you do this to your bestie? How could you pass him?

Me: Let’s go! Lando finished P5!

     I set my phone down, standing up. I start cleaning my apartment, waiting to see if Luke responds any time soon. 

     I’ve just finished cleaning the bathroom when I hear my phone vibrate. I grab it, excited to see if it’s Luke. I frown when I see that it’s an email from an unknown sender. Curious, I click it. I almost drop my phone in shock when I see the contents. “RED BULL WANTS AN INTERVIEW WITH ME!” I shriek. I’m shocked that they want an interview and the incredibly fast response time. I immediately respond to the email, wanting to set up a time as soon as possible for an interview. As soon as I get that figured out, I start pacing my apartment. “Oh my god, this is it. This could be you fulfilling your dream, Lydia. Don’t freak out,” I mumble to myself. My phone vibrates, and I dive for it. I grin when I see a message from Luke. 

Luke: I’m sure Lando would be grateful for your support if he knew you.

Me: Hi, Luke!

Luke: Hi, Lydia. How has your day been?

Me: It’s going amazing. I have an interview on Monday for a possible photography job.

Luke: That’s amazing! Congrats!

Me: Thanks!

Luke: I’m sure you’ll do great.

Me: Thanks! How’s the weather look in Imola tomorrow? More rain?

Luke: Lots of rain.

Me: Damn, good luck to the drivers then. 

Luke: They’ve driven in all kinds of weather, I’m sure they’ll be okay. 

Me: I hope so too. 

Luke: What’s your plan for the rest of your day?

Me: I’m finishing cleaning my apartment, then doing some homework. Can’t slack off for even a day or I’ll fall behind. 

Luke: Damn, I really hope you get some free time soon. 

Me: I should, it’s almost the end of school. Just two more weeks. 

Luke: Oh, that’s good!

Me: Yep! What’s the plan for your night?

Luke: Well, just resting and preparing for the race and events tomorrow. 

Me: Okay! Have fun with that! 

Luke: I will!

Lando’s POV

     I pick up my phone, grinning when I see messages from Lydia. My disappointment from losing positions in the sprint disappears when I see she’s excited that I finished P5. I dive into a conversation with her, lounging on the bed to relax. We talk for a good hour before I feel myself start to fall asleep. I groan, wanting to spend more time talking to Lydia. I fight sleep for a couple minutes before it starts to take over. 

Me: As much as I’d love to continue talking, it’s 9:30 here now and I’m fighting sleep. 

Lydia: Okay! Good night Luke!

Me: Good night, Lydia!

April 24, 2022

Lydia’s POV

8 am

     “And in Imola, we’re racing,” Will Buxton says. I grin, as Lando takes two places right off the bat. “And Sainz has been hit!” I gasp, seeing Carlos and Daniel in the gravel. 

Me: LET’S GO LANDO! TAKING TWO PLACES OFF THE BAT!

Me: Oh no! Not Carlos and Daniel! It must be so hard to see with all that rain. 

Me: The drivers need little windshield wipers on their helmets. 

Me: It sucks that Carlos is beached. 

Me: Oh! Mick had a little trip through the grass too. 

Me: I could never be a race strategist. So many variables. 

     I bite my nails as Charles makes an attempt to pass Lando. “Charles, I swear if you take Lando out,” I say. I pout when Charles passes Lando, “Come on, Lando. You can do this.” 

Me: Aww, Mick spun again. 

Me: Stroll is worrying me going onto the wet part of the track on slicks. 

Me: I don’t want anyone to crash!

Me: No! Charles! He crashed! 

Me: Good shot of Carlos though. 

Me: BUT THAT MEANS LANDO IS P3! LET’S GOOOO!

Me: YESSS LANDO GOT P3!!!

Me: Awww, his reaction on the radio is so cute. 

     I laugh as Lando appears on the screen, his hair sticking straight up. After the podium ceremony, I shut off the tv. I grab my laptop, setting up camp on the couch to work on homework and get ready for my interview tomorrow. 

Lando’s POV

     I step out of the conference room, still stinking of champaign. “All I want right now is a shower and sleep,” Max says, coming up next to me. I nod, making a noise of agreement. We walk back to our drivers rooms together. “See you later, Lando. Congrats again on your race,” Max says, waving bye. 

     “Thanks, Max. Congrats on your win,” I say, before heading into the room. I race for my phone, grinning when I see a string of messages from Lydia. I quickly read through them before replying. 

Me: Lando is super happy with his final position. 

Lydia: As he should be! He did amazing! 

     I almost send a thank you to her, before catching myself. “She doesn’t know she’s talking to you, idiot. Don’t mess it up now,” I mumble.

Me: He did.

Lydia: Any plans to go out and celebrate?

Me: Not tonight, I’ve got an early flight to catch. Celebrations will be later this week. 

Lydia: Sounds like fun!

Me: Yeah! Now it’s time to head back to the hotel and getting some sleep. 

Lydia: Sounds like a fantastic idea. Sounds like a lot more fun than what I’m doing. 

Me: What are you doing?

Lydia: I’m studying for my final in organic chemistry. 

Me: That sounds awful.

Lydia: It truly is miserable. But I’m getting through it. 

Me: I’ll leave you to it then, I’m headed back to the hotel now and will probably fall asleep as soon as I sit down. 

Lydia: Alright! Have a good night and sleep, Luke! 

Me: Have a good day and study, Lydia. Good night. 

     I grab my stuff, heading for the hotel. As soon as I get back, I shower and fall into bed, quickly falling asleep.

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Taglist: @copper-boom @ironmaiden1313 @ophcelia

[cjoatprehn]

I’m shaky, tired, and stressed as I type this but-

I am going to be homeless in 30-37 days.

Updated with payment links

Um…I have stayed the extent of the time I’ve been able to stay with the folks I’m currently staying with. I had stayed a few months already. Since mid-May 2023. No one expected me to come and stay this long. They were able to house me longer term. Life just had other plans. They did as they were able. They know my situation. They, nor I, can’t control the systems and all. But I do need to go.

I’ve received 30 days notice. They can extend a week, but no further (thus the 37 days). I’ve put in housing applications, to help with housing, and I’ve checked with other friends that I could possibly stay at, in this state at least. But neither are able to take me in. Which I knew already as they explained their situations and I’m not going to add myself to the mix of their daily lives. I’m grateful for the family I’ve been with and their hospitality. I have run out of options in terms of safe places to stay. I saw it coming a few weeks back I just…

Everything I’ve worried about came flaring up again. I can’t go back to my abusive mom. Nor any of my family, as the majority of them are Christians. I don’t want to live in that atmosphere anymore. The only reason I know the folks I’m in is because of an ex-partner, and their network which…I’m no longer dating due to traumatic reasons. I have reached out to others to see what else I can do immediate-wise.

I don’t…I don’t know what else to do; or where else to go atm within state. It’s bad timing too, just on my part, It’s getting cold. I haven’t located my winter coat. The most I have is my winter boots and sweatpants and sweatshirts as winter clothing; along with other things, which may not even all fit in my one suitcase.

I knew it was coming but…It……I’m…really fucking scared. So I come to y’all. I will…turn off my throne wishlist for now. Without an address to send things to, I can’t receive them without complications. 30 days from now is November 12, 2023; 37 days is November 19, 2023.

I’ll pack starting tomorrow. I…need financial support, encouragement, love, or…miraculously a place I can call my own without a landlord involved. Landlords are already shitty in majority. Very little are truly good folk.

I don’t want to be driven to the dark depths of my mind that put me in where I may take my own life as it’s better than this constant up and down whiplash of lash. I’m not in that state of mind. I would like to keep it that way. I have promises to keep. Promises that keep me alive and would affect many if I don’t keep them.

This will be pinned, so check this updating link for details in terms of financially and otherwise. Halloween will not be a very treatful time for me, as it seems.

Thank you for reading.

October 16th, 2023 Update:

Payment/fundraising links Listed Below

Cashapp (US & UK only)

Venmo (won’t be able to transfer to bank instantly but—it seems to work?)

Wise (US and Most International Countries) - lyrica.anya@gmail.com

ZellePay (US only) - lyrica.anya@gmail.com

Give to ABLE Account (US only? I think?) (Ignore Deadname Pls and Thank you)

Wishlist | US and most International I think? | (going to stay open since I’m allowed to continue having my mail sent here.)

Website - Pay It Forward (Context 👈🏽 clickable)

Ko-Fi - CJOAT | PayPal or Stripe only payment methods

Payoneer - psprocketworth@gmail.com

[storiesofsvu]

Learn to Share

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol consumption, smut, dirty talk, some dom/sub dynamics, nothing too crazy this time lol. Covers the "only one bed" square for xmas bingo and the "forced proximity" for @resanoona 3k bingo! Also covers a prompt requested by anon.

It was honestly a miracle that the BAU had managed to not only wrap their last case, but get home, finalize paperwork and have nothing else come up before Christmas Eve. Everyone was beyond thankful for that since it was the night of the annual Christmas at Rossi’s party, nothing too fancy, or too huge, usually just the team and any respective partners that wanted to come maybe a few extra agents or assistants that helped them out majorly through the year. The evening was full of laughter, amazing food, fancy wines, expensive bourbons and an all around sense of family and quality relaxation time.

Once dinner was finished, dishes were left for the morning and the party would end up spreading its way through the house. There were often cigars being smoked out back, Dave wandering through the rooms showing off any new fancy things he’d collected over the year or telling stories of his wild days. As the night wore on and the candles began to burn low the crowd would begin to dwindle, people slipping off into the night after a quiet goodbye and Merry Christmas, knowing they had family to see early the next morning. Eventually it was only Dave, Spencer, Tara, you and Emily left in the living room, fresh glasses of wine poured, alcohol flowing through your veins, keeping you warm and relaxed, helping everyone let go a little bit more than normal. Dave always extended the offer from dinner to everyone able to stay overnight, considering just how much alcohol he had provided it was the smart choice. Spencer was tipsily rambling on about one theory or another, pulling laughter from the girls as Rossi drained his glass, letting out a small groan as he stood from the couch.

“It’s late. You kids know where the guest rooms are.”

There was a chorus of goodnights as he reminded everyone they were more than welcome to stay as long as they wanted and breakfast would be available in the morning before he disappeared down the hall. Spencer’s theory finally wrapped up a bit later and Tara finished her drink, moving to put her wine glass in the sink.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Emily protested with a laugh and Tara chuckled.

“There’s four of us and only three rooms, I just bunked with Reid all week, it’s not happening again tonight. Besides, you two had private suites, learn to share.” She teased.

Emily let out a mock offended scoff as Spencer tried to object and you laughed rolling your eyes at Tara as she flashed the group a smile and a wave along with good night. It didn’t take much longer before you were yawning, doing your best not to lean into Emily’s shoulder as you finished your drink.

“Guys…” you started, “never thought I’d be this person, but I think it’s bedtime for me.” You sat up stretching your body out with a soft groan, “see you in the morning.” You shot Emily a lingering look as you moved from the couch, your glass finding home on the kitchen island before you wandered down the hall.

You would forever and always be thankful for Rossi and his level of hospitality extending beyond anyone you’d ever experienced. There were unopened toothbrush packages and makeup wipes in the en suite you were able to help yourself to, along with some cozy clothes stashed in the guest room’s closet. You simply tugged down a comfy cotton t-shirt, pulling it over your bare body before plugging in your phone and letting out a happy sigh as you shifted under the covers.

You weren’t surprised at the small murmur of voices in the hallway before the light flicked off, the sound of the other guest room door clicking shut and the door to your guest room opened, Emily slipping through it with a grin on her face, the soft lamplight washing her in a golden glow.

“You coming for a sleepover?” You greeted with a grin and she laughed quietly.

“You heard Tara.” Her hands moved to her shirt, sliding down the buttons she undid them, “apparently it’s our turn to share.”

“If only they knew just how much sharing we had done this week.” You purred, sitting up as you shifted onto your knees and Emily chuckled.

“Are you gonna be quiet this time?” She raised a brow, beginning to crawl up the bed, “because I’ll only touch you if you’re quiet…. I don’t want you to risk waking anyone up again.”

“I’ll be good.” Your breath caught in your throat, “I promise…”

“Good.” One of her hands wrapped around the back of your head, pulling her to you, her lips brushing against yours when she spoke, “such a shame there’s only one bed.”

“It is a king… could build a wall of pillows?” You offered with a grin and Emily chuckled, her breath warm on your skin.

“I was thinking we could take advantage of it….”

“Hmm… I do like the sound of that better.” You barely had moment to let out a huff of a laugh before Emily’s lips were on you. Your hands fell to her bare waist, wrapping around her and pulling her body tight to you while her hand wove into your hair.

The kiss built up, starting slow, a familiar dance between all too familiar lips until Emily’s tongue slid across the seam of your lips, her teeth nipping into your lower lip and you groaned. She took the opportunity to sink her tongue into your mouth, exploring every inch of you she could while her free hand started to toy with the hem of the shirt you had on. Your hands drifted upward, swiftly un doing her bra and she tossed it to the floor before her hands tickled up your bare thighs, tugging at the hem of your shirt. The kiss broke long enough for her to pull the garment over your head and it joined the growing pile on the floor.

“So fucking gorgeous.” She cooed, nudging you backwards towards the pillows, “lie back for me baby.”

You did as she asked, getting comfortable on the bed as she stepped off it to rid herself of the rest of her clothing, smirking at the way your eyes lingered on her body as if you were trying to memorize every inch. A hand on the mattress she settled over you, lips meeting yours again, this kiss deeper than the last while her hand snuck between your legs. The tips of her fingers began to play with your pussy, trailing through them feather light, teasing you, leaving you whining for more.

“Quiet…” she warned, “can’t have us getting caught…”

“Sorry M’am.” You murmured in return as Emily kissed across your jaw, her lips trailing down your neck, teeth scratching at your skin ever so lightly until she bit deeply into your pulse point and your hand flew to your mouth to muffle the gasp escaping your lips.

“That’s my good girl.” Her lips curved into a grin against your skin as they trailed across your body, her tongue swiping across your collarbone before her lips wrapped around a nipple, sucking it into her mouth while her tongue flicked across it. Her finger tips continuing to tease you, the heel of her hand randomly pressing against your clit as your hips rocked upwards in need of more.

She sunk lower on your body, lips leaving little kisses and love bites on your hips and thighs until she was settled between your legs. Her hand ran up your cunt, smearing wetness across it while her fingers widened, spreading you open for her and you let out a breathy sigh. It was only a moment later her mouth was on you, kissing at your folds, tongue slipping as deep into as you could and you bit back a moan, your fingers clenching into the bedspread. Emily continued to eagerly lap at your pussy, groaning into it, the vibrations pulling quiet whimpers from you as she buried herself between your legs. You were doing your absolute best to keep quiet, knowing just how easy it would be to be overheard by any of the others. But when Emily’s hand snuck up to join her mouth, her lips shifted up wrapping around your clit and she sucked, hard and you weren’t expecting it.

“Oh fuck!” The moan left your lips before you even realized and even faster Emily’s hand and mouth left your cunt, instead, her teeth quickly and sharply bit into your thigh, “oww!” You hissed in a whisper and she raised an unimpressed brow in your direction when she looked up at you. “That hurt!”

“And you had one rule sweetheart.” She husked back, “shame I can’t spank you, that certainly would call attention to what we were up to. Guess you’ll have to get that punishment tomorrow night. Now…another outburst like that and I’m shoving your panties in that dirty little mouth of yours, understood?”

“Yes ma’am…” your breath caught in your throat, hitching when her mouth returned to your pussy, slowly licking through you before gently wrapping around your clit once more. You tugged your lip into your teeth, holding back any noises aside from quiet whimpers as Emily’s fingers sunk into your pussy. She let out a quiet groan at the feeling of you tightly wrapping around her, how wet you already were, juices slicking her fingers within seconds. She twisted and curled them within you until she found that sensitive spot and your hips jolted up off the bed, a soft gasp leaving your lips and she smirked against your body.

“Right there?” She murmured, pressing on the spot again and you nodded, eyes tightly scrunching shut, “you like it when I touch you here?”

“Oh god Em!” It was barely above a whisper, a shuddering breath following it as she continued to brush against the spot, chuckling softly before her mouth returned to your swollen nub.

Her lips wrapped around it, sucking it into her mouth while her tongue flicked patterns against it, harder and faster until you were trembling under her. Her fingers worked in tandem, feeling the way your cunt began to flutter around her, your clit pulsing in her mouth in the same rhythm. Fire was burning through you, your body shivering with each touch of Emily’s fingers or mouth, each pass of either bringing you more and more pleasure. You let out a muffled cry when the fire broke the surface, biting down so hard on your lip you swore you’d broken the skin. Emily’s lips slipped from your clit when you orgasm hit, watching the way your juices lightly dribbled out of you, leaking down her wrist as your body shook on the bed.

“That’s my good girl… so pretty…” She praised before her fingers slipped out of you and she delicately licked around your pussy, cleaning up the smeared juices before she crawled back over you, straddling your hips and she extended her slicked fingers to you. You eagerly accepted them into your mouth, lips wrapping around them as you sucked them clean. “Taste so good sweetheart, thought I should share.”

“Thank you.” You breathed out and she chuckled at the way you dropped back against the pillows.

“Oh I’m not done. I know you can handle another one.” She sat up on her knees, shifting lower on your body as she swatted at your hip, “roll over.”

You did as she asked and she grasped at your hips, pulling you up on your knees while your head remained buried the pillows. Her knee nudged at your leg, shoving yours further apart so she was able to settle between them, a hand running up your back, pressing you into the pillows and you let out a quiet groan. Her free hand trailed up the inside of your leg, fingers brushing through your still dripping pussy before her thumb sunk in as deep as it could and moaned softly into the pillows. Your hips began to rock back onto her hand, fucking yourself on her digits as you moved and she leant over you, pressing a kiss to the small of your back.

“That’s my good girl.” Her fingers pinched your clit before they swapped places with her thumb, sinking deep into your cunt. With each thrust of her hand her hips rocked forward, body meeting yours as your hips thrusted back, eager for more, for her fingers to find that spot within you again. “Just like that… you keep fucking yourself on my fingers alright sweetheart?”

“Need more…” you whined softly and she huffed a laugh out, fingers curling within you as she picked up the pace, her body rocking into yours with more force, fingers moving faster and going as deep as they could into your wetness.

“I guess you’ve been good enough for a bit of a reward.” She purred, her free hand moving from your hip to the bag you hadn’t even noticed her bring into the room.

Your head dropped onto your arms, chest beginning to heave as your cunt fluttered around her fingers, your body burned, ached to be stuffed with her cock, but you knew that wasn’t going to be able to happen tonight. Though, you couldn’t really complain about that, Emily was just as good with her hands and mouth and judging by the punishment comment earlier, you would get everything you desired in the very near future. Her hand crooked within you, finding your g-spot once again and the pillows muffled your cry as your fingers tightened into the bedspread. You barely heard the click of the small vibrator being turned on but you certainly felt it as Emily pressed it onto your clit.

“Fuck…” you muttered, your hips jolting back towards her as it began to rub at your body.

“Give me another one, I know you’ve got it in you.” She practically growled, her fingers flicking faster within you as she turned the vibe up a notch and you gasped. She could see the sheen of sweat glimmering on your skin as pleasure rocked through you, your thighs had began to shake, your hips faltering as you continued to try to fuck yourself on her hand.

She picked up the pace of her hand, making sure she was giving you everything she could, pressing the vibrator harder against your throbbing clit before she turned it up to the highest speed. It was quiet, but the room was full of dirty noises, your squelching pussy, juices leaking down your thighs and onto Emily’s wrist, the quiet cries and whimpers muffled into the pillows as you tried to not moan, the whir of the vibrator.

“You’re almost there, I can feel it baby, let go for me.” She cooed, fingers brushing right over the sensitive spot, pressing harder and lingering for a second longer than the last thrust and you couldn’t help it, your orgasm tore through you like a wildfire.

“Oh fuck Emily!” The cry was louder than you’d intended and you winced the best you could as your body dropped to the mattress, shaking and trembling with pleasure. Emily clicked the vibrator off, her fingers slowing down, gently fucking you through your orgasm, watching the way your body twitched as she did so before she finally pulled them from you, sucking them clean. “Sorry.” You whimpered, little shivers and soft cries leaving you as pleasure surged through your nerves.

Emily’s hand softly ran up and down your back, nails scratching into your hair ever so softly as you continued to come down from your peak, a whimper escaping your lips whenever her nails traced over a sensitive spot of your body. A quiet knock on the door made both of you jump, Emily beginning to scramble to get the both of you under the covers as Spencer’s soft voice floated through the air.

“Is someone crying?” He asked and you stifled a laugh as Emily struggled to come up with an answer quickly.

“I—uh, accidentally elbowed her in the face, we’re fine.”

“You sure?” He asked quietly and you let out a quiet shriek at the sound of the doorknob turning.

“Yup!” You called back quickly, “totally fine, just hit the cheek. Serves me right for being a blanket hog.”

“…okay…” He replied and the two of you held your breath until his footsteps faded down the hallway. You heard his bedroom door click shut and a fit of quiet giggles took over you as Emily scowled down at you, swatting at your ass.

“I told you to be quiet.”

“Well then I guess I’m getting extra spankings for Christmas.” Your eyes sparkled with excitement as you looked up at her and she playfully rolled her eyes.

“Damn right you fucking are.”

__________

@svulife-rl @ssa-sapphic @mickey-gomez @clarawatson @yesterdaysgone @hbkpop @cabotfan42 @momlifebehard @alexusonfire @melindawarnersgf @itisdoctortoyousir @emilyprentiss4life @andreasvu @softgamerking @httpjupiterbby @somethingimaginative17 @temilyrights @alexxavicry @leelizzzle @mysticfalls01 @anya-casablanca @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @aliensaurusrex @alcabots @7thavenger @rustyzebra @ilovemycrayons @mandy-asimp @thegrantwater @leftoverenvy @kades95 @loverllyhurtswithoutyou @disneyfan624 @bluetodie @borg-queer

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

The Undertale characters sit on a chair. The chair breaks under their butt.

Undertale Sans - His day is ruined. He decides it's more prudent to stay where he is than to try anything today. When Papyrus comes home, he finds him lying on the floor, the legs still above the chair, snoring like a dead bear. Sans and the worst freaking sleep positions ever. He could write a book about this.

Undertale Papyrus - He screams as all his limbs go ragdoll. He stays a few seconds on the floor, blinking in shock. Well, he hated that chair anyway. Good riddance. He's going to stomp on it until it breaks into even more pieces.

Undertale Toriel - Passing the first shock, she just bursts into small giggles, then into hysterical laughter. The worst part is that it happened in front of her classroom which is now impossible to calm down as her laugh is terribly contagious.

Undertale Asgore - He just sighs. That's not the first time and that won't be the last. Chairs don't like him. He just stays on the floor, looking sad :( Maybe he should ask Monsters to make one for him instead of buying more human chairs he's way too big for.

Undertale Undyne - What's left of the chair is flying through the windows as she is insulting it, its ancestors, and the ancestors of its ancestors. Alphys doesn't move from the couch and just says "Karma." Well, yeah, if she used the chair to sit and not flex with Papyrus and Asgore on it like she told her to, the chair would still be alive.

Undertale Alphys - Her face goes burned tomato and she prefers to faint to protect herself from embarrassment than actually confront the reality. Too bad it happened in the middle of a worldwide conference the entire world was watching live. Alphys cut all her social media and refused to leave her room for an entire month after that, rambling again and again as Undyne is gently patting her back and Sans throwing popcorn on her head.

Undertale Frisk - They put the chair back in place and sit on it again, on three legs. They don't really care. As long as the chair can still be used, it's fine. They're used to Asgore breaking all the chairs all the time and they don't have enough money to fix them all so...

Undertale Chara - .... They swear they broke their coccyx. It had to happen the only day the freaking only person present is that bloody comedian. Asking Sans for help is the hardest thing they have ever done, even more, when Sans realized they broke their butt, his smile extending to his eyes. Of course, Sans insisted on coming with them to the hospital only to make stupid puns all the way now that they can't defend themselves. Chara begs Toriel to come and throw him out of their room by texts, not knowing Sans is also texting Toriel telling her they're just melodramatic and salty because they broke their butt.

Undertale Mettaton - He does a triple salto and somehow still ends up lying on the floor like a dying sea star, all limbs tangled dramatically. He then screams like he's getting murdered, which forces poor Burgerpants to run for his help. Now, Burgerpants would have loved to help him if that idiot didn't keep trying to pose dramatically every time he touched him. Burgerpants finds himself stuck in the horrible mangle of mechanical limbs and now they have to call Alphys. Chairs are banned after this.

Undertale Gaster - His essay tube flies in the air. Gaster can only scream as the acid he was playing with rains all over him. His goop is making an uncomfortable "pssshhhhhhh" as he's slowly liquefying on the floor. He wants to cry. Why did he become a scientist again? He sucks at this job!

Undertale Grilby - He grins his teeth, angry. But, uh, too angry. His butt burns the chair. And his pants. He locks the door of his bar and won't let any of the usual customers leave before someone tells him who broke the damn chair. Everyone points at each other lol. Only Sans points himself with a huge flashing arrow somehow. This is going to be a long day.

Undertale Mufffet - All the spiders in the room froze, then starts to scream and run in panic as Muffet high-pitched screams angrily, throwing croissant bullets everywhere in the room. She's going to commit M U R D E R. It's the spider apocalypse. The next morning, there are a lot more spider dust pastries in stock. Weird.

Undertale Burgerpants - He jumps in the air and falls back on his feet. Wow. That was actually cool. Maybe he is not a loser after all. When he looks up, Mettaton is staring at him, a camera recording him. Ah, fuck. He's going to end as an internet cat meme, is he?

Undertale Flowey - His pot breaks pathetically on the floor. Welp. Now what. It's not like he could move through the tiles of the kitchen or anything. He's stuck. He grabs his phone, texts Papyrus that he's dying, and then goes to play The Sims while Papyrus is panicking, sending 250 messages in a row as he's getting on his way.

Undertale Gerson - He tries to stand up but... Uh, yeah, he stuck on his shell. And the phone is far away. Good thing Undyne is coming to eat for lunch. He just has to wait three hours like that. Welp. Time for a nap he guesses.

[mamaspresley]

to find a cure | austinbutler

summary in which austin tries to find himself in the art of pottery, and instead, finds you wc 3,932 tw mentions of depression

note : aaa i saw the request @scrambled-eggs-y posted about this and i could not stop obsessing so i decided to write on the idea as well. go check out their fic, it’s linked here , it is phenomenal <<33 i hope u guys enjoy my rendition of pottery!austin !!

It was amazing, how much stress he lived under every day for two years. Shooting Elvis was nothing short of a dream, one that Austin would be forever grateful for, but it wasn’t as pleasant as his mind had made it out to be at the beginning. The past two years had been so strenuous, so draining on him from the long hours and the consistent studying and learning of his role. It had taken a seriously heavy mental toll on the boy and it wasn’t until he was bedridden in a hospital in Queensland that Austin realized how serious it was. 

He got many texts and calls from friends and family, wishing him well and hoping that he would get better soon. He was admitted for a week, so by the time he returned home to LA he was feeling a lot better, physically. But there was still a pressure weighing down on him emotionally, and Austin wasn’t sure if treatments and doctors would help him this time. 

That feeling never truly went away— not for a long time, at least. It was almost a full year since he finished filming Elvis, and he’d tried to cope with his depression by throwing himself into his other projects, into his friends and family. He never took the time to work on himself, so when he was between jobs and had nothing to do but be by himself, he was miserable. And that was just the case in the early months of 2022. 

“You should try getting into art, or something,” a friend suggested to him. Austin had gone to one of his closest friends, Ashley Tisdale, for help, finally admitting defeat after a year of living with this unhealthy mindset. “You know, I heard painting is really therapeutic. Maybe you could try that? Or I heard about this new pottery class downtown. That could be nice.” 

Since the wrap on Elvis, Austin had reached a level of depression he’d never even known was possible. It could easily be described as imposter syndrome — he didn’t know who he was, who was living in his body, taking over his soul. He felt lost within himself, like he wasn’t Austin every morning he’d wake up. For nearly three years of his life he dedicated every conscious moment to becoming Elvis Presley, so having to adapt back to his old ways — his own ways — felt impossible. Elvis was all he knew for such an extended period of his life… It made sense that Austin had lost his own individuality in that process. 

But trying art as therapy? Austin almost laughed at that — sure, he was an actor, but he wasn’t big into the arts, like sculpting or painting. “Ashley, you know damn well I can barely even draw a stickman.”

“You don’t have to be good!” she assured him. “Just try it. I’ll go with you, if you want.”

It was about a week after that conversation when Austin called her up, swallowing his pride and asking if she would stay true to her word and accompany him. “You mentioned somethin’ ’bout a pottery class? I’ve never tried pottery… let’s do that.” It took a lot of strength to pull himself out of bed every morning. But Austin was big on trying new things — it was something that made him feel excited, encouraged him to step out of his comfort zone, and since filming Elvis he hadn’t found anything that made him feel like that again. So he felt good about this; he felt good about getting out of the house — and that surprised him more than anything. 

“I’m happy you wanted to do this,” Ashley said, smiling at the boy from the passenger seat of his car as Austin backed into a parking stall just a few blocks from the building she directed him to. “It’s good, seeing you out and about again. I was getting worried for a bit there.”

“Yeah,” he said, putting the car in park and shutting off the engine as he looked over at his friend. “Me, too. But I think this will be fun.”

They both got out of the car, walking across the parking lot. “I have a feeling you’re gonna suck at this,” Ashley teased, and Austin rolled his eyes as he slung an arm over her shoulder. 

“You’ve got just as much experience as me at this pottery thing, so you can’t say shit if I’m terrible.” He smiled. Ashley was someone who Austin held very close to his heart, and he had for a long time. She was truly the only person he trusted enough to go to if he was struggling, and this just proved his theory. She was his best friend, nothing more than that, and it made Austin happy knowing that he had such a good support network in times of need. 

He held the door open for her as they walked in and Ashley found the two of them seats near the back of the room. There were a few other people taking the class, some looked more experienced than others, but Austin didn’t feel nervous at all. He was excited— he loved trying new things, even if he had no clue what he was doing. He couldn’t even guess what half of the instruments in front of him were used for, and it was comical how confused Ashley looked beside him. They were both screwed — so what else could they do but laugh about it?

They put on the smocks hanging near the side of the room, after realizing everyone else was wearing them, and Austin rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows as he sat down at his station. 

“Okay, I think we can start.” The voice came from you, standing at the front of the room in a pair of light washed jeans and a tank top. You were tying a white smock around yourself, which had paint splatters and stains all over, and you had your hair tied up messily but somehow it looked perfect, within the imperfectness. You had soft features, a kind smile, and Austin genuinely believed that you were the prettiest girl he’d ever laid his eyes on. 

“Is she… is she the instructor?” He leaned over to Ashley, his gaze never falling off of you. 

“I think so.” Ashley looked over at Austin, who was too busy gawking at you to notice that his friend was watching him. Ashley grinned ear to ear at her realization, seeing the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes seemingly sparkling at his admiration over you, a total stranger. “Oh my God.”

“What?” He snapped out of his trance, looking over at Ashley like nothing had happened. 

“You think she’s cute.” At her words, Austin felt himself blushing. And he was quick to defend himself, stumbling over his words and the heat in his cheeks only made it worse. At his nervousness, Ashley laughed. “You totally do! Oh, this is adorable.”

“Would you shut up?”

“Okay, first things first, who here has experimented with pottery before?” You, who Austin was marvelling over seconds before, were now drawing the attention of the class, taking a seat at the station in front of you. A few people around you raised their hands, but Austin and Ashley kept to themselves. “So the rest of you have no clue what you’re doing, then?”

Everyone laughed, but Austin was too distracted, unable to tear his eyes away from you. You were enchanting, your skin glowy and your eyes so soft and kind, as well as your smile. He couldn’t get over how adorable you looked — you were the human embodiment of the word sweet. “Well that’s all right. You’ll figure it out with the rest of us. So the first thing we’re gonna do is wet our hands and prepare our clay on the wheel.”

The class went by quicker than Austin expected, and for the whole hour he figured he’d only spent a total of two minutes not looking at you. You were ethereal, encouraging a feeling in Austin that he hadn’t experienced in a long time, and that was why when they were cleaning up at the end of the lesson, Austin turned to Ashley and asked if she wanted to attend next week’s class with him, as well. 

“Yeah, sure.” And that’s how Austin ended up as one of the class’s regular students, and by a month in, not only was Austin’s adoration for you growing, but he was actually becoming pretty good at the whole pottery thing. 

Currently he was attending a class without Ashley — she couldn’t find a babysitter for the night, and Austin assured her it was fine. He didn’t mind going alone, he quite enjoyed spending time by himself, and if he was being honest, he’d been trying to work up the courage for a while now to talk to you. Ashley continually teased him about it, and though he knew it was lighthearted, Austin really did like you. He wanted to talk to you, not just in passing or when you asked if he was doing okay with the lesson. He craved a real conversation, much like he’d been dreaming about since the day he saw you. Every night of his was spent excitedly going to bed, so he could fall asleep and make contact with the girl that mainly existed inside of his head. He’d never been so in love with the idea of someone before, and Austin was getting tired of only meeting you in his dreams. 

Austin was excited for this week’s class, a little bit more than all the others. He’d been planning to finally strike up a conversation with you, and once the day came, he couldn’t wait. 

So he showed up early. Only by a few minutes, but being in the vicinity helped ease his nerves a bit. It was funny, really, the contrast between the man he was now versus how holed up he had been only two months before. A pottery class, something that Austin never would’ve guessed he’d be frequently attending, was what saved him. A depressing spiral he was previously caught in, something that seemed would never come to an end, was easily prevented by a simple suggestion from a friend, something as silly as an art class. And now, he was working up the courage to ask out a girl, something he hadn’t even thought of since the beginning of his past relationship of nine years. He never really advanced towards a new one after their split two years before, never felt the need to nor did he meet anyone that he fancied, until laying eyes on you. It felt like love at first sight, and Austin was smart enough to realize that this was a feeling he didn’t want to let escape him just because he was a little scared.

The class started as it always did, with you welcoming the new students and saying hello to the returning ones. Today they were making vases, straying from the usual path of simple things like bowls or cups. The style that you wanted the class to try was a bit more advanced, with a slight curve and a weird shape to it. Austin was excited to try out his newfound skill, but the more he thought about it, he realized he would probably do anything you asked, realistically. It was humorous to him, how quickly he’d fallen for you when he didn’t know a single thing about you. Aside from your love for pottery, of course. That was something he found himself pondering a lot of the time when he dreamt of you — you were artistic, which was a trait that Austin loved. That meant you appreciated the beauty in things, you were creative and were such a kind, warm-hearted person. And this was just from what he gathered from the way you taught the class. There was so much more he was dying to know about you. 

About halfway through the class, you asked, “Okay, and how’s everyone doing?” You were walking the length of the room, peering in on certain people’s creations. Austin was working absentmindedly, his focus being more on you standing only a few feet away, admiring one of the older lady’s work. “Margaret, this is beautiful. I love the way you put your own spin on this.” And I love the way every single word sounds falling from your lips, he thought.

It was only a few minutes later before you came behind Austin, and he was momentarily embarrassed by the way his heart picked up so quickly at your presence. “This looks good,” you said, moving to stand beside him with your arms crossed. Austin watched as you chewed on your lower lip, eyes clouding over with thought before you bent down. “I feel like you might wanna add a bit more of a curve, though.” You placed your hand over his lightly, applying a slight pressure that caused Austin’s stomach to twist. By the speed at which his heart was racing, he was sure it was lethal. “There we go. Good job.”

You were gone as quick as you came and Austin focused the next few minutes on recuperating himself. It was child-like, the way you made him feel, the undeniable crush he had on you. But no matter how on-edge and starstruck he felt when you were around, he begged for the feeling back. 

It wasn’t long until the class was finishing up and they were putting their creations on the back shelf. Austin rinsed his hands off, drying them on his smock while he gave himself what seemed like the most important pep talk in the world. Just talk to her, he told himself, his eyes watching you as you cleaned up your station. She’s just a person. She’s not scary. Nothing can go wrong if you just say hi. 

Taking a deep breath, Austin made his way over. He owed this to himself. 

Nervously, Austin lifted the smock up and over his head, folding it once over before hanging it up. Then he turned on his heel, looking directly at you. “Hi,” he said. What the fuck was that?

“Hi! Austin, right?” 

God, you were so kind. The smile on your lips, forming perfectly on your face. It was as if the act of smiling was meant solely for you; you had perfected the art. Your eyes stared up at him like he was the only person in the world you cared to talk to. Austin’s heart thudded in his chest. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. I’m Austin.” Shut up, shut up— but say something! “I just, uh, figured it’d be nice to talk to you when you’re not teaching me how to make clay into a bowl.” What the fuck was that?— for a second time!

“You know, that is my speciality,” you said with a laugh, and Austin found himself smiling way too much for the simple small talk the two of you exchanged. 

“Well you’re really good at it.”

“Thank you, Austin.” He loved the way his name sounded when you said it. Thankfully, you continued talking, saving him momentarily from having to come up with something. “You’re getting pretty good, too! I noticed you’re coming every week. Usually your girlfriend is with you— where is she tonight?”

Girlfriend? “Girlfriend?”

“The woman you always come with.”

Oh! Ashley. “Oh! Ashley. She’s—she’s not my girlfriend.” His cheeks were heating up and Austin prayed that the nervousness he felt wasn’t transferring onto his expression. “Just a close friend. She got me out of the house for the class.”

“Well that’s good,” you smiled, and Austin crossed his arms as he smiled back. “I’m glad you continue to come. So you’re single then?”

What? “What?” That was a quick jump.

“Usually I find that a lot of the people that come to these classes are married couples.” You were speaking while continuing to clean up now, and Austin helped you as best he could. “Pottery can be a very romantic thing, so it’s not unusual to bring your significant other to a class. You should bring them, you know, if you have a partner.”

“I don’t.”

“Oh.” You were speaking almost absentmindedly as you shoved things into drawers, wiping up the counter space. You kneeled down to grab a few paint brushes that had fallen to the ground before pausing, looking up at Austin. “This is gonna sound so weird, but I really feel like I’ve seen you before.”

Austin chuckled small, his hand moving to his jaw, his fingers playing with his lips, “I get that a lot.” You looked on at him, waiting for an answer. “I hate saying this because it makes me feel like just the biggest douchebag.” You laughed, and the sound was so pretty coming from your lips he had to answer. Maybe he could impress you. “I’m an actor.”

You snapped your fingers as soon as he said it, and Austin laughed. “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood! Oh my god, I can’t believe I didn’t clue in.” You stood up, and it was then that Austin became aware of the drastic height difference. You were a lot shorter than him, which he adored, and he couldn’t tell if the glimmer in your eyes was from the sudden change in conversation or if it was just a look you always had. “I’ve lived in LA for so long but it’s always surprising to me when I meet famous people.”

“I could say the same about people calling me famous,” he joked, and you smiled at him genuinely. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t know it was you. But then again, you’re almost unrecognizable in that role. I loved that movie — Quentin Tarantino is one of my favourite directors. And for him to dip into the Charles Manson story, I just… that was such a great film. I loved Brad’s character, he was so complex and, like, the whole bit about Charlie’s deciples, I mean…” You rambled on about the film, hardly mentioning anything about Austin’s role, which was definitely something he noticed but it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He loved that you didn’t talk about him at all, actually, and instead enjoyed hearing your thoughts on the film itself. “Quentin had such a good take on Once Upon a Time, Leo’s whole bit and how he tied Sharon Tate into it… I can’t imagine anyone else telling the story in a different way than he did. But I mean, he’s always—” You’d been going on for maybe about three minutes before realizing Austin hadn’t even gotten a word out, and your cheeks instantly turned a slight shade of pink. “I’m sorry.”

Austin was smiling, chuckling as he stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the counter behind him. 

“I can’t believe I just went on for, like, ten minutes about a movie you’re literally in. Like you didn’t know anything I just said. Oh my god.” You were rambling again, and Austin found it charming. “This probably happens to you all the time. I’m so sorry. This is embarrassing.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Austin reassured you, and you looked up at him as if to say, you sure? “I love hearing people’s thoughts on the film. It’s one of my favourite movies, too. I’m a huge fan of Quentin’s work, so I understand. I mean, I was completely fangirling the whole time over him.”

Your cheeks were pinkish, and you smiled small. An awkward silence settled over the two of you and it was almost thirty seconds before you spoke up again. “You know, next class I’m thinking of trying mugs.”

“Like coffee mugs?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “They’re a bit difficult, though.” Austin licked his lips as he listened to you speak, and the way your eyes flickered down to his mouth didn’t go unnoticed. “The, uh, the handles are the tricky part.”

He hummed, meeting your eyes when you looked back up to them. You gulped silently, lips curling into one another as you pressed them into a thin line. He couldn’t be making up the tension between the two of you. 

“Will you be here next week?” you asked, shifting back and forth between the balls of your feet and your heels as you waited for an answer. Austin nodded, and the softest smile grew across your cheeks. “Okay. Then I guess we will be making mugs.”

“I’d say I’d better come prepared, but I don’t really have the facilities to practice at home.” Austin didn’t know what he was hinting at, but it was something. And thankfully, you caught on. 

“I teach other classes so, um, maybe you would wanna drop in at some point this week and use the wheels here?”

“You’d let me?” He was grateful that you had offered, because if he was being honest, Austin had no clue where he was going with the rest of the conversation. It made him feel a lot better knowing that this wasn’t just his idea, but that you wanted to see him, as well. 

“I don’t see why not. If it’s strictly for practice, that is.” You gave him what seemed to mirror a firm look, and Austin smiled at your playful seriousness. 

“Of course.”

“Okay. Then drop by any time,” you said, stepping back slightly as you grabbed your jacket off the back shelf. When you spoke, you glanced back at him over your shoulder, making eye contact the whole time. “I teach classes on Thursday from five until nine pm, if that’s not too late for you.”

“Nine is perfect. Let me walk you out.”

After grabbing his things, the two of you exited the building. Austin held the door open for you like a gentleman, reaching above your head to push it open from behind, and you thanked him once you stepped out. He watched as you took out your keys to lock the door of the shop, Austin stuffing his hands in his pockets while he waited. 

“Where’s your car?” he asked. 

“Just up here on the left,” you answered, and Austin walked you to your vehicle. Once you arrived at the small sedan, which beeped from the unlocking of the doors, you looked up at him with a smile. “Thank you for walking me out.”

“Oh, don’t thank me for that. Common courtesy.” He gave you a smile.

“I’ll see you on Thursday?” you confirmed, and Austin nodded, reaching over to open your door for you. 

“See you on Thursday.”

Smiling, you silently thanked him before ducking into your car, and Austin closed the door for you. He crossed the street to his own vehicle, watching as you drove away in yours, and the warm feeling that enclosed his heart wasn’t something he was afraid of, but something he embraced. 

The past year was harder for Austin than any other time in his life. Depression was something he combated on a daily basis now and it was extremely difficult for him to move past that feeling of being lost within himself. But there was something about taking this class that made it just a little bit easier for Austin to climb out of the hole he’d been stuck in for so long. And now, after speaking to you for maybe ten minutes, he realized it was you. You were the cure that he needed to this awful sickness he’d fallen ill to, and he was finally starting to feel a little bit better. It’d been years since he felt that, better, but finally he did. And it was all thanks to you. 

➳ @satninbeaulieu @suspiciousbutler @sagesolsticewrites @shimmeringlights44 @butlersbitxh @floralcyanide @sassy-ahsoka-tano @austin-butlers-gf @butlersbabe @dontbesussis @x-earthangel @anangelwhodidntfall @she-is-juniper @butler-on-beale-street @iloveaustinbutler @http-sponge @theliterarybeldam @melodydior @dances-and-dolly-dresses @mommy-maia @alligator-person @elvisabutler @scarlet-knight @austiebutbut @80s-outsiders @a-bolanos @sweetheartlizzie07 @ghxst-heart @matchaluvr123 @emilykolchivans

part two is here!