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juniperskye · 9 months

Text

What are the chances?

Sneak peek: Aaron and you match on Tinder and have been messaging back and forth over the summer…who’d have thought that meet the teacher night would bring him face to face with the woman he’s been sexting.

Aaron Hotchner x Teacher! Reader

Smut/Fluff

Word count: 5335

I have been writing this for weeks and I’m not sure about it – feedback is welcomed (as long as its constructive) Also I am using personal knowledge of teaching (as I work in a school) if it doesn't match your personal experiences I am sorry. Not edited - please be kind.

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, language, sexting, tinder, online dating, explicit description of sexual activity, age gap (legal - Aaron is 45 Reader is 26), unsolicited sexual messages via dm, mentions of Jack, New Girl reference, mentions of school, teaching, insecurities, mentions of cheating, let me know if I missed anything!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

Your phone buzzing pulled your attention away from the book you’d been reading. The notification illuminating your screen was one that filled you with dread.

You had joined Tinder at the suggestion of your colleague, she claimed that after your last relationship plus the significant amount of time you’ve been single equated to you needing to join the dating app.

This on its own wasn’t what was tying your stomach in knots, that was the fact that since you’d downloaded the god forsaken app you’d received a disturbing amount of unsolicited dick pics. Tonight, however, would bring a positive change. You had swiped right on a particularly handsome man a few days ago and had been silently hoping to match with him ever since. You had honestly given up hope until now.

Swiping over on the notification to launch the app would allow you to remind yourself of how handsome this guy actually was.

“Alright Aaron let’s take another look at this profile” you mumbled to yourself as you slid further down the couch.

Scrolling through his pictures you couldn’t help but smile. He only had three, but they were good. The first picture was a close up of him in a suit, he wore a subtle smile and his eyes looked so inviting. The second picture was him in a black T-shirt he looked as though he’d been laughing or maybe talking, a big grin on his face. The third photo…this one left your mouth dry. He’d clearly been on a golf course, the photo taken without his knowledge, but his arms…the way they were flexed and the veins that bulged in his forearms and hands. God the thoughts you had about what he could do with those hands.

You shook your head, trying to rid your mind of the vulgar thoughts you were having about this perfect stranger. He was hot, you couldn’t deny it, but his bio drew you in even further, it was to the point but definitely had you wanting to know more.

I’m a single dad and a workaholic. I love the Beatles. Looking for something real.

It felt like someone may have guided him through it, but you could tell the sentiment was genuine. He was a single dad and you loved that he wasn’t hiding that. It wasn’t something that would deter you from getting to know him either. You loved kids, that’s why you’d become a teacher.

You had mentioned that in your bio, it was short and sweet and exactly you.

I’m a 3rd grade teacher, I love music and reading, and yes, “I have touched glitter in the last 24 hours!”.

You’d thought about messaging him right away but ultimately decided against it. Not wanting to seem too eager, you’d give it some time and who knows, maybe he’d even message you first.

It had been an entire week since you’d swiped right and now he was finally messaging you. He’d kept it pretty simple, but it was late and given the previous messages you’d received at this hour, you were feeling pretty weary about opening his message.

A: Hello, I wanted to message you sooner, but I wasn’t sure how to start this conversation.

Y: Hi 😊 and no worries I get it. Online dating doesn’t exactly have the same effect as an in-person conversation.

A: Precisely. How are you?

Y: I’m doing good, tired. You?

A: I’m good, thank you.

A: I’m so sorry, I travel for work and am currently on the west coast, I didn’t even factor in the time difference.

Y: Don’t apologize! I’m the one who is awake at this ungodly hour. I should probably head to sleep though.

A: Yes, get some rest. Could I message you tomorrow and try this again?

Y: Absolutely, I’m looking forward to it! Goodnight Aaron!

A: Goodnight.

You woke up feeling pretty good, it was nice to not have to wake up at 6:00 am every morning. Once of the perks of being a teacher was the breaks. You were, however, thankful to be at a school that allowed a twelve-month contract which meant your paychecks continued through the summer. You had also made some extra cash by creating and selling assignments through teachers-pay-teachers (TPT) and by holding virtual tutoring sessions for students who were struggling.

Today you were just planning to create a few different anchor charts to upload for sale on your TPT account. You had just finished designing one for homophones vs. homographs and were ready to upload it when your phone buzzed. When you noticed the notification, you couldn’t help but smile.

A: Good morning

Y: Good morning! How are you?

A: I’m well, glad to be going home. How are you?

Y: Right, you had said you were on the west coast, is that for work?

Y: And I am good, thank you.

A: Yes, I unfortunately have to travel a lot for work. Your bio says you’re a teacher, that’s really incredible, how long have you been teaching?

Y: Travelling for work must take the excitement out of the actual travel.

Y: And thank you! I have been teaching for 5 years now! I love it so much; the kids make all the paperwork and administrative stuff worth it!

A: It is so great that you have that passion. It seems that it’s becoming increasingly rare.

Y: What about you? I see you’re a federal agent, is that right?

A: Yeah, I am. It’s not as glamorous as it may sound.

Y: I would think it’s busy, and hard work. Especially with you travelling while having kids at home.

A: It is, it’s nice to talk to someone who understands that. I just have one kid, a son, he’s almost 8.

Y: That is a good age!

A: It really is, he’s coming into his own.

A: I just saw the time; I have a plane to go catch. Can we talk again soon?

Y: I would really like that. Have a safe flight Aaron.

**One Month later**

The two of you had talked nearly every day for the past month. He was everything you could’ve hoped for; kind, funny, charming, he asked you about yourself and your job. You were really enjoying talking to him and he must’ve shared those feelings because he had recently asked you to switch over from Tinder to texting.

Aaron and you hadn’t had the chance to meet in person yet, but you texted frequently. In the time you’ve been talking, he’d been out of town a total of three times. The first was when you’d matched, he was somewhere on the west coast then. He was back for two days from that trip before he left again, that time was a short stint in the Midwest. And the most recent time, which he was just getting back from was a whole week, somewhere nearby, you knew based on the fact that you remained in the same time zone.

Getting to know each other had been going well, you two asked one another deep questions instead of surface level stuff. You’d talked about your dreams and how you hoped to continue teaching for a few more years before moving up into the administration side of things, and Aaron had shared that he used to be a prosecutor and while he couldn’t share much about his current job, he shared what he might do when he was done at the FBI. He informed you that you had inspired him and that he’d been considering teaching classes at the local university.

Connecting with him was easy, so easy in fact that you’d both admitted to having deleted your dating apps. You had told Aaron that you really wanted to meet him, and he had agreed with you, and so you had set up a tentative date for the following Friday, provided work doesn’t call him away.

Naturally, work did call him away. He’d texted you as soon as he found out. Short but sweet.

Aaron: Hey, I am so sorry, but we got a case. We’re headed to the tarmac now. Raincheck?

You: Oh, no worries! I understand, have a safe flight. Will you let me know when you land?

Aaron: Of course, I’ll talk to you later sweetheart.

You couldn’t help but blush at the name. Aaron and you hadn’t used pet names or even discussed it…hell, you hadn’t really discussed anything about what you were or where you were headed. You had figured that you would have that discussion over dinner, only now that wasn’t happening.

In all honesty you were starting to lose your resolve. Since you had started talking to Aaron, you hadn’t talked to any other men, which meant you hadn’t been intimate with any other men. You were starting to feel pretty restless. You’d thought about texting him, but again, you had no idea what this thing you were doing was. You had tried to push the feeling aside, keeping yourself busy by watching TV and cutting out materials for your classroom.

It was nearly 10 pm when your phone lit up. You looked down to see Aaron’s contact light up your screen, a smile taking form on your lips.

Aaron: Hey sweetheart, how was your day?

You: Hey! It was productive, I got a lot of prep work done for my class. How was your day?

Aaron: It was long, and brutal. I would much rather be there with you.

This was it; he was opening the door; you would just have to see how far he wanted this to go…would he invite you in given the chance?

You: I’d love it if you were here. I’m just lying in bed.

Aaron: You are?

You: Yeah, just here in bed. Thinking about you.

Aaron: I’ve been thinking about you too.

You: Yeah? How so?

Aaron: Sweetheart, I don’t want you to think that this is just some ploy. I like you; I really do, and I want to meet you in person.

You: I like you too Aaron and I know you wouldn’t do that. I’d also really love for you to continue…I really need to know what you’ve been thinking about.

Aaron: God sweetheart. I’ve been thinking about all the things I’d like to do with you.

Aaron: I’d love to start by grabbing your face and kissing those beautiful lips.

You feel a shiver run down your spine as you read Aaron's text. Your heart begins to race, anticipation bubbling up inside you. The words on the screen ignite a flame of desire deep within your core, making it impossible to resist the growing heat between your legs.

You: Mmm, that sounds amazing. I can almost feel your lips on mine already.

Aaron: I want to taste every inch of you. Starting with your mouth, then trailing my kisses down your neck.

The mere thought of Aaron's lips exploring your body sends a surge of wetness between your thighs. You imagine him leaving gentle, lingering kisses along the curve of your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin just below your earlobe.

You: Yes, please. I want to feel your lips everywhere.

Aaron: I'd slowly remove your shirt, teasingly revealing the soft skin underneath until it’s off completely, exposing your beautiful breasts.

You can't help but squirm in bed, the tingling warmth between your legs intensifying with every word. The anticipation builds as you imagine Aaron's hands brushing against your skin, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along the curve of your breasts.

You: Oh God, that sounds incredible. I can’t wait to feel your touch, Aaron.

Aaron: And I can’t wait to give it to you, my sweet girl. I'd worship every inch of your body, my hands guiding my lips and tongue to explore you.

Your breath catches in your throat as the images flood your mind, each one more tantalizing than the last. You can almost feel the soft brush of his lips against your collarbone, the way his tongue would flick against your sensitive flesh.

You: Please, Aaron. I need you now. I can't wait any longer.

Aaron: Patience, sweetheart. We'll meet soon, and when we do, I promise to fulfill your every desire.

As you read Aaron's response, a mix of relief and disappointment washes over you. You understand the need for caution, but the ache within you grows stronger with each passing minute. The desire to feel Aaron's touch, to have him consume you completely, becomes almost unbearable.

You: Okay, Aaron. I trust you.

Aaron: Good girl. Now, close your eyes and imagine my hands tracing circles on your thighs. Slowly inching higher, closer to where you crave me the most.

You follow his command, closing your eyes and allowing your mind to paint vivid images of his touch. The sensation of his warm hands on your thighs sends shivers down your spine as you imagine his fingers inching closer to your pulsating core.

You: Oh yes, Aaron. I can nearly feel your hands on me, the anticipation is almost unbearable. Every nerve ending in my body burns for your touch.

Aaron: That's it, my sweet girl. Imagine my fingers brushing against your wetness, teasingly circling your throbbing clit, driving you to the edge.

Your breath hitches in your throat. The images in your mind become more vivid, your body responding to the phantom touch that you crave with every fiber of your being.

You: Yes, Aaron. I can feel it. My body is on fire for you.

Aaron: I can practically see the uncontrollable desire in your eyes, sweet girl. I bet you look so pretty when you cum.

Your heart races with a mixture of excitement and frustration. The words exchanged between you and Aaron ignite a passionate flame within you, but the distance between you only fuels the longing for his touch. For now, you must find solace in the words that pass between you, allowing your imaginations to create a world where your desires can run wild.

You: I can't wait for the moment when this all becomes reality.

Aaron: It will be worth the wait, my sweet girl. Until then, tell me what you’ve been thinking about. Tell me what you want me to do to you.

You close your eyes, mind racing with a whirlwind of untamed thoughts and secret desires. With each passing moment, the explicit nature of your conversation with Aaron intensifies, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. The electrifying tension between you grows with every tantalizing word exchanged, pushing the boundaries of your imagination further than ever before. You find yourself under Aaron's spell, eager to confess the deepest, darkest corners of your desires.

You: Aaron, I want you to take control. I want to be at your mercy, to feel the weight of your dominance. Do with me as you please.

Aaron: My sweet girl, I will claim you as mine, marking every inch of your body with my touch.

Your body trembles in anticipation of your approaching orgasm. Every nerve ending tingles and pulses, craving the touch of Aaron's hands, his lips, his body against yours. The air is thick with desire as you imagine surrendering yourself to him completely. You slide two fingers into your pulsing heat, slowly thrusting them in and out, imagining Aaron was the one providing you such pleasure.

Aaron: Give yourself over to me. Let go sweetheart. I want to push you to your limits and then pull you back.

Your fingers move faster, matching the rhythm of your racing heart. The room seems to spin as you find yourself on the precipice of ecstasy. One final thrust of your fingers and you are sent hurtling over the edge, your body convulsing with waves of pleasure that crash over you like a tsunami.

As you ride the aftershocks of your orgasm, your breathing begins to steady, and the reality of the moment settles in.

You: Aaron...that was...beyond anything I could have imagined.

Aaron: This is only the beginning. There is so much more for us to explore when we are finally together.

You were growing more confident in whatever this was with him, but you were also becoming more and more frustrated at the fact that you had still yet to meet up with him. You had facetimed many times at this point. Calling one another regularly, to say good morning, to let you know he had landed safely, to tell him all about your day, and even to get one another off at the end of a long hard week.

He was extremely apologetic, given that his chaotic schedule was to blame for you having yet to meet in person. He had even gone as far as to let you know each day they didn’t have a case to see if you were free, but unfortunately as the new school year was approaching, you had become increasingly busier. You had been attending trainings for curriculum as well as the new program the school would be using to take attendance. You had also been going in to start setting up your classroom for a few hours each day.

When you weren’t at the school working on those things, you were at home writing lesson plans, making assignments, and getting your google classroom setup online. You had felt horrible that you had to decline dates, especially given that he finally had time for them, but Aaron was so sweet, assuring you that it was okay. You told him that once the school year started things would be easier since there wouldn’t be so much to prep anymore and once again Aaron let you know that he understood.

Time had flown by; Aaron and you had been talking and doing whatever this was for nearly two months. Many things had been exchanged between the two of you, promises of exclusivity (without labels for now), explicit messages, talks of the future, nude photos, hopes and dreams, amongst many other things. Since that night, you and Aaron had shared many explicit conversations that had ultimately led to some of the best orgasms you’d ever given yourself. You we genuinely surprised at how quickly you had felt comfortable with a man you’ve never actually met, but him facetiming you regularly helped, you supposed. It was scary to think you could be falling for this man so early on.

Shaking the thought out of your mind you checked your phone, only to see a missed call from Aaron, as well as a voicemail. It made you smile to yourself, nobody you knew left voicemails anymore, they always followed a missed call with a text.

VM <Aaron>: Hey sweetheart, you must be busy, but I wanted to see if you were free this Saturday. I know you have some stuff going on at the school this week, but I thought since you are off, and I just found out it is a mandatory off day for the team, it might be a good time for us to finally go out.

Aaron’s voicemail made you giddy, because him having a mandatory day off on the weekend was rare (as he previously informed you). They tend to fall in the middle of the week between cases to allow the agents a break. But a Saturday! One of your days off – this meant you could finally go on your date! You quickly clicked your phone app, scrolled to his contact, and hit the call button.

“Hotchner.” Aaron said.

“Hey baby!” You greeted.

“Oh, hi sweetheart! I take it you got my voicemail?”

“I did, and I am totally free on Saturday! Were you thinking dinner?”

“Well Jack is with his grandpa on Saturday, so I thought maybe we could spend the whole day together? I have a feeling once I see you, I’m not going to want to let you out of my sight for a bit.” Aaron explained.

“First of all, same! Second of all, I would love to spend the day with you, maybe we could go to the farmer’s market in the morning? I could get some stuff to make us dinner. What do you think?” You questioned.

“Perfect! Alright, well it is getting late, and I know you have a busy day at the school tomorrow, so I am going to let you go. Have a good night sweet girl.”

“Tomorrow won’t be as bad as Thursday, but you are right it is getting late. Goodnight handsome! Text me when you get up?” You asked, hopeful.

“You are going to do great on Thursday, the parents are going to love you. And I will text you first thing!”

With that, you hung up. Aaron was sweet trying to ease your mind of your anxieties. You knew realistically that your meet the teacher night on Thursday would be fine and that there really was no reason to fret, but alas, here you are letting it eat you up.

The next three days passed in a blur, Aaron had been consulting on a case from the Quantico office, something about it not being enough information to warrant travel. You had been finishing up all your last-minute decorations and lesson prep. You also needed to make your slideshow that you would review during meet the teacher.

It had been chaotic, but you managed to get everything completed on time and Aaron had actually helped that precinct close their case. It had been a successful week, and now you on top of your back-to-school jitters, you also had nerves from your pending date. You told yourself to focus on one thing at a time, it would be easier that way.

Which leads you to right now…

Meet the teacher night was the most nerve-wracking and exciting night of the year, you wanted to make a good impression for all the parents, but you also needed to show the kids that you were a safe adult that they could trust who has curated an inviting and cozy space for them to express themselves and engage in learning.

You had spent the last week getting your classroom perfectly decorated and organized for this moment, and here it was finally happening. You waited, anxiously fidgeting with your sleeves as families made their way into your classroom, greeting them all as they entered. A parent had pulled you aside to talk about their child’s multitude of allergies when another family had walked in, presumably the last one if you had your count right. You excused yourself and made your way over to the father of this student and stopped dead in your tracks. You’d recognize him anywhere, you had memorized his face, arms, hands, broad shoulders and here he was in front of you now.

“Hi” it came out as a breath; you were stunned that he was here now.

“Hi, I had no idea you were Jack’s teacher. The email I got must’ve been your last name…” Aaron tried to explain.

“No, don’t worry about it, we hadn’t exchanged full names. I um maybe we should talk about this after.” You’d just remembered that you were in a room full of parents and your soon-to-be students.

“Right, that’s a good idea.” Aaron said as he made his way over to Jack and some woman.

Your stomach dropped as Aaron greeted the woman, clearly someone he was very familiar with. Had this all been a lie, the last two months. You zoned out, completely disassociated as you gave your presentation, welcoming the families, going over pickup/drop-off procedures, discussing how you would communicate with parents and going over the scope and sequence of the curriculum for this year.

As you spoke, you found your eyes drifting back to him. Your stomach dropping every time he meets your gaze. How dare he. How dare he smile at you like nothing is wrong, like he isn’t here with some other woman.

You made it halfway through the powerpoint which was a chance for parents to ask any questions that they had thus far. A few parents had asked about the school lunch program and what after-school activities they could anticipate throughout the year. Another parent asked about one of the board adopted reading curriculums and how it would be implemented – all tame so far. Then his hand went up. You steeled yourself before gesturing to him.

“Mr. Hotchner” You signaled him to ask his question.

“Yes, I wanted to know more about the art program here. Which classes are provided as the kids’ specials?”

“That’s a great question, our school has received a grant from the state for our arts program, it is one of the best in the U.S.. The students will participate in multiple specials throughout the week such as Art, Physical Education, Chorus, Computers, Robotics, Gardening, Band, and Dance. They will have two specials classes on every day of the week, save for Wednesdays, since those are half days.” You explained.

“Wow, that’s amazing, thank you!” Aaron smiled at you again.

You were proud of the fact that your school had the ability to have such a wide variety of electives to offer your students. Your heart swells when talking about it, knowing that you worked tirelessly to help lock in that grant for your school. Aaron’s smiley response, however, makes your stomach churn.

You continued throughout the last few slides, closed out your presentation and said your goodbyes, answering the few remaining questions while picking up stray crayons and cups scattered around the room. As you threw the last few cups in the trash you turned to see Aaron lingering in the back of the room alone.

There was a nagging feeling eating away at you. He surely didn’t have the audacity to come here with another woman. Not when you had spent the last two months sharing the most intimate parts of yourselves with one another. Granted he didn’t know it would be you, so maybe that was why he was here with her. All you wanted to do was grab your bag and get the hell out of here.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” He started.

“Sooo, should we just ignore the fact that I’ve seen you naked? Just pretend like the last two months never happened. I don’t want to put Jack in an awkward position. And I certainly don’t want to come between you and your girlfriend.” You huffed.

“Woah, sweetheart, hold on. What are you talking about? As far as I am concerned the only person who I would call my girlfriend here is you, but obviously we haven’t discussed that and seeing as we are only just meeting now, I figured we’d go on our date before labeling anything. I don’t want to forget about any of this, I want to keep this going, see where it leads.” Aaron reached for your hand gently.

“Aaron, if you are seeing that woman you came here with then this has to end. I’m not looking to be a third, or to be your mistress. You can’t do that to her. You can’t do that to Jack!” You shook your head and pulled your hand away from his.

“Oh my god. No, that’s Jess, Jack’s aunt. I thought I told you about her. It’s Jack’s mom’s sister. The only person I want to see is you baby.” He reaches for you again.

This time you let him pull you into his embrace. You shake your head, feeling like an idiot for even thinking Aaron was capable of something so awful.

“I’m so stupid. Aaron I am so sorry!”

“Sweetheart it is okay! I can’t even imagine how it must’ve looked.” He pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“I can’t believe you are actually here right now.” You whispered, pressing your face further into his chest.

Aaron squeezed you tighter, rubbing his hands up and down the expanse of your back. You took a deep breath in, savoring the smell of his cologne.

“You know, I could have Jess take Jack home, and maybe we could go grab a bite to eat?” Aaron suggested.

“Really?” You looked to him for confirmation.

Aaron replied with a subtle “mhmm” to which you nodded. He quickly pulled his phone from his pocket and shot a quick text to Jess. He was sure to give her a brief explanation of the situation, this of course caused her to agree to take Jack for the night.

You should have known you wouldn’t even make it to dinner. Aaron had suggested going back to his place since it would be empty and ordering in. How could you say no, it was a brilliant idea.

The two of you barely made it through the door before your lips met in a fiery kiss, tugging at one another’s clothes. Aaron had picked you up, wrapping your legs around his hips as he carried you the rest of the way to the bedroom.

He gently laid you on the bed, holding his weight up by his elbows on either side of your head. He leans in to kiss you once more before pulling away entirely.

“Sweetheart, I want to make sure you really want this. I can wait and I don’t want you to think this is all I want because trust me I want you. All of you.” Aaron expressed.

“Aaron I want this, all of this with you.” You gently brushed your finger against his jaw.

With that, Aaron dove back in and kissed you with fervor. His hands gripping your plush thighs sliding up to your hips. Your hands reaching to unbutton his dress shirt, unsuccessfully so. Aaron’s hands come up to meet your own, he moves to remove his own shirt which allows you just enough space to remove your own. Garments are strewn about the room as Aaron leans down attaching his lips to the top of your breasts. His hands come up to grope them, your body arching into his touch. He tugs the lace down, exposing your nipple, it immediately perks to the cold air, and he attaches his mouth to it. You can’t help the gasp that releases from your throat. You card your fingers through his hair raking your nails against his scalp.

Aaron presses his hips to yours, allowing you to feel his growing length against your inner thigh. Heat courses through your body as your heart races. He undresses you with a slow, deliberate intent, unhooking your bra and allowing your breasts to bounce free. The vulnerability of it all makes you feel alive, desired, cherished.

Your hands explore his body, his muscles hard and defined under your touch. You run your fingers across the faint lines of scars, evidence of his journey, the stories he's lived. You gently trace them, feeling his rough skin, the warmth emanating from him. You feel like you know him, like you've been waiting for this moment your entire life.

He stands, his eyes locked with yours. He reaches down, unbuckling his jeans and sliding them down his legs. Your eyes follow the movement, taking in every inch of his body, he is standing before you, naked and exposed. You feel a wave of desire wash over you, a fiery need to be closer to him. Your hands reach for him, your fingers brushing against the curve of his hips, the muscles in his thighs, the hard line of his abdomen. You run your fingertips along the slight indent of his navel, and he lets out a low groan.

Your body is alive with desire, every breath you take sharper, every touch more electric. You know this moment will be etched in your memory forever, the beginning of something beautiful. And as you take his hand, pulling him back to the bed, you know that this is where your story will unfold, a story of passion, love, and a bond that will last a lifetime.

791 notes · View notes

chuulyssa · 5 months

Note

Can you please do Dazai, Ranpo, and Chuuya with prompt 4, 5, 11, 12 and 13!? Thank you sm!! Xoxo🫶🏾🫶🏾

↷ A/N ─ hii nonnie <3 i hope you dont mind me crossing out the ones that I've already done, or else this post would've been too long to be just drabbles :)

★ PROMPT ─ 4, 5, 11, 12, 13

!! FT. ─ dazai, chuuya, ranpo

DAZAI

─ 11: sharing your music taste

Dazai listened to the playlist with sparkling eyes. This was probably his second favourite sound in the whole world - the first being your voice, of course.

"Do you have more?" he asked eagerly, and you nodded.

This was such a huge change from his usual playlist consisting of just one song, the Double Suicide. He adored the way you spoke so lovingly of your music taste. He loved how thoughtfully you constructed each playlist. He treasured your little frown while you selected the title of the playlist, the subtle pout when you scrolled through numerous pictures for the cover, and the smile when the final playlist looked just right.

He loved everything about you, really. And that included your interests.

─ 12: styling his hair in silly ways

"I can't play with you, bella," he groaned. "Kunikida-kun screamed at me to complete all of this paperwork. I mean, can you believe it? I'm such a poor, innocent soul, getting crushed under this mountain of documents. Oh, God, why have you forsaken me this way? How will I-"

He rambled on and you nodded, standing behind his chair and styling his hair. Currently, you hadn't listened to a single word he had said, because you were too busy doing something to his hair instead.

"Speaking of which," Dazai paused, looking up at you from his chair, "What do you think you're doing?"

You giggled and showed him his reflection through your phone camera, and he looked amazed.

His hair had been parted into two from the middle, clipped towards each side with two little unicorn hairclips. On top of his head stood a ponytail, tall and solitary, like a coconut tree. It was held down by a pink ribbon and tied to be in the shape of a bow.

"I look beautiful! Not that I don't always, but this is outstanding," he stood up to kiss you on both cheeks and immediately clicked a selfie with you. "I'm framing this picture."

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

CHUUYA

─ 4: dancing with him

His hand rested on your waist and head in the crook of your neck. The two of you were standing in the same position, a merry tune on violin playing from the music box he had gifted to you just last week running in the background.

It had been another one of those stressful nights, a few murders committed and a few allies injured. Chuuya was the same as always though, pretending as if everything was alright, albeit the first thing he did on reaching home was take your hands as a reassurance of safety.

He didn't want to sit down and cuddle; the adrenaline was too high. Instead, he began serenading across the hall, his pace slowing down with time until the two of you stood hand in hand, hugging and swaying gently to the sound of music.

All he needed was to feel your touch, to hear your voice and to sense your presence. You mumbled a few sweet nothings into his ear, and he seemed to calm down, eyes drooping at the relaxing way your bodies mingled with each other.

─ 11: sharing your music taste

It was sunny. The two of you were sitting in a park on a picnic date, his head resting on your lap, Your phone was in his hand and his in yours.

"I like this one, I guess," Chuuya said, breaking the serene silence. "It reminds me of you."

You paused his playlist and pulled out his earphones from your ears.

"I like yours too."

"But my playlist is better," he taunted, wiggling his eyebrows before stopping them on seeing your little pout. "Okay, fine, you win. I like yours better."

─ 13: brushing your hair

Chuuya ran the comb along your hair gently, watching as the strands untangled in front of his eyes. You were sitting on the floor in front of the mirror, looking down at your phone, while he sat on a chair behind you.

Chuuya was very serious about hair, and appearance in general. He tried his best to maintain his looks and was entrusted by you to brush his hair. However, seeing you look so cute in the mirror made him momentarily forget about what he was supposed to do.

He admired your reflection, smiling to himself like a fool. You looked so beautiful, so elegant. The way you slightly frowned at the phone took his breath away. Your eyes, your lips, your-

"Ouch!"

"Wha-?" he jumped.

"It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, ow!"

"Oh, shit, sorry, doll," he petted your hair as if to soothe the pain.

It was hardly his fault for getting distracted when you looked that good in the mirror.

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

RANPO

─ 4: dancing with him

Ranpo was a lazy man... until it came to dancing with you. You're having a stressful day? Let's dance. You're feeling happy and energetic? Let's dance. You're angry at him and are about to scold him? Screw that, dance with him!

It didn't matter if he was dancing solo to lift your mood, or sending you pirouetting down the agency's corridors for his own amusement. He thinks he likes your smile when doing it better than anything he's ever seen, and so he does it again and again.

Ranpo can easily deduct when you need a little bit of his dancing skills to cheer you up, and he's always there for you, just like you are for him.

─ 5: kissing

Ranpo thinks he's at most peace when he's with you in his room, your lips on his and his on yours in perfect harmony. He kisses you whenever he can, whether it be after solving a new case or tasting a new snack.

He kisses you, his tongue intertwining with yours. You taste like his favourite chocolate; did you steal some? He doesn't care, because what matters to him the most at this moment is the way your lip colour is staining every part of his face.

He isn't a romantic guy, but the peppery kisses you're giving him make him blush like a tomato, giggling into the crook of your neck and hiding his usually confident face.

─ 11: sharing your music taste

"Ranpo, would you like to-?"

"-listen to your Spotify playlist? Yes!" he jumped at you.

"How did you-? Oh, never mind then," you said, noticing his glasses were on.

"I deduct it's gonna be amazing, just like you are," Ranpo simpered and kissed your cheek, and you widened your eyes.

"What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing," he smiled. "Can I eat your snacks while listening?"

─ 12: styling his hair in silly ways

"I know what you're doing," Ranpo peered at you from below through his glasses, "but I'll let it slide because you let me eat your snacks."

"That's good, then," you hummed, showing him his reflection.

Ranpo blinked into the phone camera, and you immediately clicked a picture. He looked like a little cat, with two ponytails shaped like cat ears, along which was a trail of hair clips in the shape of little paws.

"I guess it's better than what I thought," he shrugged.

─ 13: brushing your hair

Ranpo doesn't brush his own hair, but when it comes to your hair care, he's ecstatic. He goes all out; wasting all your precious shampoos and conditioners, using all sorts of combs on your delicate hair and not letting you eat chips and chocolates because they are "bad for your hair and lead to hair loss".

When he feels stressed, he likes to braid your hair. Whenever he can't fall asleep, he likes to play with your hair. When the two of you cuddle, he likes to bury his face in your hair. Its fragrance soothes him.

He brushes your hair when you want him to, albeit he isn't the greatest at it. He loves it when you compliment him though. Little praises like, "My hair looks so good. Thank you!" or even "You're the best at doing my hair!" cheer him up and keep him happy all day.

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

188 notes · View notes

queers-gambit · 6 months

Text

The Blood of the Covenant

prompt: ( requested ) being raised alongside the Twins, you naturally fell on path to become a contract killer - much to Tangerine's chagrin. when you're recruited onto the Bullet Train, too, emotions cum into play - get it?

pairing: Tangerine x female!assassin!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 9.4k+

note: this isn't very good, i'm very sorry.

warnings: codename Olive 'cause it's cute, cursing, Lord's name in vain, mild spoilers, AU timeline (obviously), Tan is still Aaron, Lem is still Brian, emotional confessions, mild depiction of violence, very short and poorly written smut, canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, needles / weaponized venom [The Hornet], and dead bodies.

"So, you get on the train, you find the Twins, and you get off - it's easy," Constance, your handler, scolded through the phone. "Seriously, why are you so nervous? It's like the most lowkey job you've ever been assigned."

"Yeah, you're just forgetting the part where I have to locate some generic looking briefcase on this God forsaken train, make sure they have the White Death's son, then get them all off - "

"Okay, see, now you're making it all complicated," Constance laughed again. "C'mon, Olive, tell me the truth."

"What truth?"

"You're nervous," she sang in your ear.

"No shit, I'm nervous!" You snapped, connecting the bluetooth device and shoving your phone in your pocket as the train jetted into the station. "Do you have a good reason I shouldn't be?"

"Um, how about the fact that you guys grew up in the orphanage together, making you practically family, and that they're gonna be overjoyed to see you?"

"Yeah, right!" You laughed, "You don't know the guys, and it's been, like, 4 years since I've seen them. They're scary overprotective and if they know what I'm doing professionally, they'll probably handcuff me to one of them and deliver me to some nunnery."

"Are those even a thing anymore?"

"Fuck if I know," you snorted.

"You're overthinking, Olive, just breathe," she advised. "Look, the intel is good. The White Death is up to something and if you wanna see the Twins alive, you need to get them off the train."

"Cool, so fuck the case and the son?"

"Nope, you wanna get paid, you gotta grab them, too."

You sighed, the train doors opening. "Well, here goes fucking nothing..."

"I've literally never heard you this nervous, it's kinda cute."

"Constance, is there a reason we're still on the phone?" You asked, nodding at the people you passed and excusing yourself as you searched the train cars slowly.

"I wanna hear how this goes!"

"Call you when I have the payloads, 'mmkay?"

"No," she whined, "c'mon, lemme hear the reunion!"

"Goodbye, Constance, as always, you're a giant pain in my ass."

"Oh, like you're a basket of roses. Fine, go, deprive me of this. Fucking killjoy!"

"Talk soon - and if not, I'm probably shot."

"Well, just... Don't get shot?"

"Spot-on advice, love."

"You'd be lost without me."

"Bye, you idiot."

"Seriously, don't get shot!"

Disconnecting the call, you chuckled to yourself and dodged around a family. However, right behind them was a man in a bucket hat and thick black framed glasses carrying a silver briefcase, who bumped your shoulder. "Oh, I'm so sorry, ma'am," he instantly apologized in English.

"No worries," you smiled, nodding at him. "Have a nice ride."

"You, too," he nodded back, and you turned to continue on your way, missing the way the man eyed you - and gulped when he caught sight of the gun in your waistband. He scurried on his way.

You entered another train car, pausing to take a long breath as you surveyed the patrons. You moved onto the next section, the train rocketing into motion. However, as you approached the next set of doors, you gasped and skirted to a halt when two men lingered in the connection.

"Oh - what the bloody fuck are you doing here!?" Aaron snapped instantly.

"Well, hello to you, too, love," you grumbled with a curled lip.

"Hi, doll!"

You grinned at Brian, greeting him with enthusiasm; offering a giant hug, him kissing your cheek noisily. "So good to see you," you told him when you pulled back.

"Tan," Brian snapped, glaring at him as he gestured at you. "C'mon, mate, don't be like this - 's been years!"

"Yeah, Tan," you pouted dramatically.

"You even know what Tan stands for?" Brian snickered.

"Nope."

"Tangerine," then he pointed at himself, "Lemon."

Aaron's blue eyes rolled, sighing deeply before nodding. "Right, right, c'mere, then, you," he opened his arms, and when you stepped into his embrace, you swear, it was like returning home. After a beat, you felt his arms tighten and his nose press into your neck, subtly inhaling; making you give him a tighter squeeze.

"Oh, Jesus, all right, c'mon, I'm standing right here," Lemon groaned, you and Tan parting, but only saddling beside him with his arm around your neck and yours anchored around his waist.

"So," you chirped, shifting your body weight, "you two have the case, I assume? And the Son - "

"Oh, you've gotta be fuckin' joking," Tangerine snapped, glaring at you as you grinned mischievously. "How's it you know about any of that?"

"She's on assignment, felt the gun when I hugged her," Lemon snickered as if it were common knowledge. "How long you've been working, love? Why didn't you ring us? Talk to us 'bout this?"

"I needed to?"

"No, but just for a bit of a catch-up?" Lemon shrugged. "You know, tell us you're doin' some dangerous job instead of teaching? Aren't you supposed to be a teacher now?"

"This pays better."

"Not gonna get paid a single dime, the fuck's wrong with you?" Tan snapped, dropping the arm from your neck to round on you in anger. "You're seriously on a job?"

"Mhm," you hummed with a smile. "And why won't I see a dime, exactly?"

"'Cause you're not doin' this fuckin' job, love, for fuck's sake!"

"Tan, just calm down," Lemon sighed, holding a hand to him as the man with a pornstache paced in a small circle; wiping a hand around his mouth. "Love? What's the job you're on?"

"Mh," you nodded, "well, 's a bit unprofessional to tell you, but fuck it. I'm to collect the case, grab the White Death's son, and get you two off this fucking train."

"Oh - for fuck's - "

"Tan!" Lemon laughed. "Mate, take a breath! She's obviously qualified if she's made it this far, got this assignment."

You grinned, "You ever hear rumors about that shit that went down in Medellín?"

"Don't tell me," Lemon gasped. "That was you?"

"Most of it wasn't intentional, but I'm pretty good at improvising," you teased. "Anyways, I heard about Bolivia, you two are certainly making names for yourselves, aren't yah?"

"Well," Lemon smiled bashfully, waving you off.

"Right, so, we're approaching the next station," you pointed out, clasping your hands in front of you and smiling, "so, where's the Son?"

"Oh, uh, up there," Lem pointed to the next train car.

"Mhm, good, good, good, and the case?" There was an awkward silence as Lemon and Tangerine exchanged long looks. "Hey? Where's the case, Brian - I mean, Lemon?"

"Well, uh... Funny thing, yeah?" He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

"Tan? Sweetheart?" You smiled prettily, reaching for his hand to halt his pacing, "Where's the case?"

"It's..." Tan trailed, seeing Lemon shaking his head vigorously from behind you. He sighed when he met your sweet eyes and admitted, "It got lifted, love."

"Oh, you fuckin' simp," Lemon groaned.

"What? Wanted me t'lie? She's got that sixth sense for that shit, mate!" Tangerine defended.

"No, you're just whipped!"

"She's looking for the same bloody case, she'd know eventually!"

You let go of Tan's hand to answer your ringing phone, holding a finger to them both, "Hey, Constance, now's not a great time."

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"Nothing, just reuniting with the lads," you eased. "I'll call you when we have the case and kid, and are off the train, all right? And if I don't - "

"Yeah, yeah, you're shot. Fine, just..." She sighed. "Listen, you three aren't the only ones on assignment."

"Hmm?" You perked your brows.

"Yeah, so, Maria's got an agent in the field. Also, I just got intel that the Wolf's there, no idea why. The Hornet, too."

"You're fuckin' joking, right?"

"Nope. They popped up on our travel itineraries. They used pseudonyms naturally, but we have their records."

"Fuck me, all right... All right, yeah, we'll handle it."

"No, don't handle anything! Remember Rome!?"

"Rome wasn't my fault!" You snapped, taking a deep breath. "But it did piss the Hornet off, we'll be careful."

"Get off the fucking train, Olive!"

"When the packages are secured, love, yeah, all right, gotta go, bye-bye now!"

"Olive - "

You hung up and put your phone in your back pocket, sighing at the Twins. "Well, this just got more interesting. We aren't the only ones on this job," you frowned.

"What?" Lem's face dropped.

"Wait, what happened in Rome?" Tangerine asked, offering you his signature look of annoyance: a frown and pinched brows.

"Oh, nothing that was my doing," you waved off. "So, to recap, the case is missing, but the Son is secured?"

"Zip tied to his seat," Lemon nodded.

"Mhm, and where was the case?"

"I had it stashed, but..." He eyed the luggage tossed around the compartment.

"Now, it's gone. Okay, okay," you nodded, "so, just for future reference, don't stash the goods, all right? Terribly unprofessional, darling."

"Yeah," he nodded sadly.

"Oh, so when she says it - "

"She doesn't get all smart with me!" Lemon cut Tangerine off with a warning finger as he paced in the compartment. "The fuck do we do? We just passed the station - the fucker could've gotten off - I mean!"

"Easy," you spoke softly, but the panic was set between the two. You sighed when Lemon turned frantic, leaning back on the wall as Tangerine stood beside you.

"No, no, look, we got his son," Lemon reminded. "That was our job."

Tangerine shared a look with you, making you chide, "Stay calm. You get nowhere bein' so up-tight." His expression melted into something close to reprimanding, but he sighed and faced Lemon.

"Our job was to come back with his son and his $10 million. Three words to describe our situation right now, do you know what they are?"

Lemon glared, "Sure do." Then held up three fingers, dropping one for each word, "Saved - his - son. Hmm? Family's more important than money, right?"

"Do you honestly not know who the White Death is?"

"Yeah, I know who the White Death is. You just told me five minutes ago," Lemon snipped, making you sigh as he rambled an explanation.

"Why do I even bothering forwarding you the briefings?" Tan interrupted, exasperated by the entire ordeal.

There was a pause and Lemon replied softly, almost sheepishly, "I do not know. You get briefings, love?"

"Mhm, but my handler likes giving me the CliffNotes," you eased with a small shrug.

When Tangerine turned from you two to face the train's door, staring out the window, you and Lemon shared a look - his hand raising as if to wave off Tan's theatrics. In return, you just held a placating hand to him, letting Tangerine start his story about the White Death. When he got through his tale, he took a long breath, sighing deeply, musing as he turned back to you both, "So, let me put this bluntly. There's this soulless, psychotic leader with the largest criminal organization on the planet," then his hands dramatically gestured, "shoved right inside our fucking arse cheeks."

Lemon stared at his partner and then, too, mused, "That motherfucker's definitely a Diesel, then, isn't he?"

"You mention Thomas the Tank Engine one more time, I'm gonna shoot you in the fucking face," Tangerine snapped.

"No, no, he won't, Brian," you stepped in, standing between the two, glancing between them.

"'S Lemon when on the job, love."

"All right, sure, my apologies, Lemon," you agreed, "but he's not gonna shoot you." Lemon hummed and pointed at you in triumph, mocking Tangerine, making you scold, "No, don't do that, either. Your attitude gets us nowhere, right, lads?"

Lemon nodded at you before looking to Tan, asking, "Okay, okay, if-if-if-if he's such a badarse, how come he hired three random operators instead of getting his son back himself?"

"I wasn't hired by the White Death," you smiled, reaching a hand to Tangerine's to hold tightly when you saw his fuse about to blow. "And, you see, he had a wife, Lem."

"What? He had a wife?"

"Yeah," you nodded, ignoring Tan's impending meltdown, "and she was the most important thing in his life, and she died in a car crash. Some reports say it was an accident, some drunk driver... And others say it was an assignation attempt." You missed the look Tangerine sent you, looking you up and down, relating to the 'most important thing' comment. "But since then, he's not left the compound," you finished.

"An unnamed locomotive might say there's a lesson to be learned," Lemon quipped, irritating Tangerine.

"And you know what? He didn't hire three - or two," Tan amended, nodding at you, "random operators, Lemon. No, he asked for the best. He asked for the two responsible for the Bolivia job. He asked for pros, who wouldn't fuck up... Three words, Lemon, and now, you, too, sweetheart," he sneered at you. "We - are - "

"Fucked," Lemon finished.

"Oi, listen here, you two Debbie Downers, Christ, all right? Every situation can be remedied," you assured. "Yeah, this is - this isn't ideal, but between us three, we can figure something out. Yeah? Talkin' about you two bein' the best," you squeezed Tan's hand, "surely we can figure something out. C'mon, when do we give up?"

Lemon cocked his head, asking, "All right. Yeah, sure, but what's your codename? Can't go 'round callin' you your government. Would blow our covers."

"Olive," you smiled brightly, Tangerine scoffing. "Fuck off," you snapped instantly.

"Right, well, Olive's right," Lemon deflected, not giving Tan time to retort. He reached out to adjust Tan's suit lapel and tie, "We rescued his fucking son. Huh? We find the fucker who took the briefcase, make things right, be like it never happened," he laid out for you two, and when you tired to release his hand, Tangerine held on tighter - not letting you go.

Tangerine took a deep breath in, letting it out as he pulled out his gun with his free hand, flipping it open, checking the full round of bullets present, and snapping it closed before storing it again. He glanced at you before asking Lemon, "Still got that vest on yah?"

"No, vests give you a false sense of security," Lemon answered. "You might, like, get shot in the neck."

"Yeah, it also stops you from getting shot in the chest, but I guess you missed that episode of Thomas, did'yah?" Tan quipped, not letting Lemon time to answer because he looked at you again. "Bein' said, you are gonna stay put, doll face."

"Excuse the fuck outta me?"

"Heard me," he snapped. "You're sitting this one out."

"I don't remember being hired by you," you dropped his hand to cross your arms. "You don't get a say in what I do - this isn't like back in the group home where you two bossed me 'around, playin' big brother."

"It's exactly like that, 'cause we've been doin' this a helluva lot longer - "

"And I was still hired to do this job, so, I suggest you shut the fuck up and watch yourself."

"I'm tryna keep you safe!"

"We're not children anymore, Aaron!" You snapped. "You don't get to dictate what I do anymore! Christ, all right? I was hired for this job, just like you two, so you can either get with the program and we work together, or just shut the fuck up - 'cause I'm not sitting a Goddamn thing out!"

"Jesus fuck, could cut the sexual tension between you two with a fucking plastic spoon." Lemon scoffed, rolling his eyes; earning two identical glares for either of you. "Fine, whatever, keep denying whatever this is - but look, you two done?" Lemon sighed, and when you nodded, he nodded back. "Right - nut up or shut up, bruv."

You went to follow Lemon out, but Tan snagged your arm before you got a step too far. He kept you at his side, laying your arm in the crook of his, and in-sync, he and Lemon fluffed their outerwear as you three stalked up the train aisle. You licked the pad of your thumb and wiped a bit of grime from the corner of Tan's mouth, his smirk directed at you as you approached the Son secured in his seat.

"Well, so, slight change of plans," Tan announced when you reached the seating. Lemon reached out to alert the seemingly sleeping Son, but the movement of his shoulder caused the lad's head to lull towards you three - making each of you recoil instantly.

"Oh!" You three groaned in union, seeing the rivers of blood streaming down the Son's eyes. He was dead as a doornail, some would say.

You stood watch as Tan and Lem leaned in closer to observe the dead body, Lemon commenting, "First his wife, now his son? That's a lot of white deaths."

Tangerine took a deep breath in, you reaching out to squeeze his elbow. "Sit down," you hissed quietly, "before you draw attention to us standing around a fucking corpse!"

"You're on watch!" Tan shot back.

"Can't do shit if you two are just staring at him! Fuck's sake, sit! You're so suspicious, aren'y you meant to be an agent?"

You pushed Lemon into the seat next to the Son and then Tan into the seating beside the window so you could claim the outside seat beside him. "We gotta disguise the body," Tan whispered, whipping out his handkerchief. You watched him dab the material to his tongue, reaching across to start cleaning the blood while Lemon looked around for anything to help.

"Hang on, hang on," he rushed, Tan pausing when a souvenir cart was approaching and pushing the lad's head towards the window. "Could we get a pair of them glasses, please?" He asked the kind attendant. "They look real fun."

The pretty lady nodded and handed over the oversized toy glasses, Lemon forking over a simple note and insisting the change be kept. You thanked the attendant in her native language as she passed, and after doing a look up and down again, nodded, "All right, go."

"Any fuckin' idea what happened?" Lemon muttered.

"No," Tan snapped.

"Looks like The Hornet's work," you whispered. "Yeah, see, her specialty are poisons and venom, most notably, that of the Boomslang snake." You smirked, "Anyone see the news recently? A Boomslang went missing earlier..."

Tan pulled the lad's head back and continued cleaning the blood off, needing to raise outta his seat to finish the job. Lemon offered, "Here, mate, try these. They're them Momonga glasses."

"The fuck is a Momonga?" Tan sneered through a small panicked pant, taking the toy and settling them on the Son's face.

"Japanese anime kid's show," you offered softly.

"Comes on after Thomas every Thursday," Lemon rushed, gasping, "oh, shi - " when the Son's head dropped. Tan and Lem fixed him to look as if he was only sleeping by leaning his head on the window.

"Thought you two were masters of disguise?" You teased.

"Shut it, darling, please," Tan snipped with a sigh. "All right, we need to split up - there's a lot of train to cover."

"What're we doing?" You asked, standing when Tan gestured you out of the way.

"Gonna find whoever has the case - probably the same nut job who killed the kid," he seethed. "The Hornet, you said?" He asked, watching you nod. Standing as a trio in the middle of the train aisle, you three agreed to split up and search for the case, but Tan insisted you come with him, "as back-up."

"You seriously need it?" You chuckled.

"No, but I wanna keep an eye on yah," he rolled his eyes.

"Shouldn't someone stay with the body?" You wondered.

"He's not gonna get any deader."

"Is that even a word?" You asked Lemon, giggling when Tangerine rolled his eyes and snatched your hand to follow after him.

You and Tan had scoured the entire train, but had zero luck. The only direction the two of you had was from a young girl with a crisp bob haircut in first class, who told Tan she saw a man with black frame glasses with their desired case. Your mind flashed back to earlier, remembering the blonde man and how he had a briefcase. It must've been their briefcase.

He must've just lifted it when you boarded and accidentally ran into him. You hated how foolish you felt, but there was no way you could've known that was the case you were after. Still, you felt a pang of disappointment in yourself - some sick desire to impress your brothers with your skill, to prove to them you're capable of being in this line of work. That you weren't that little girl in the orphanage anymore, but a woman grown who was capable of making her own decisions and having greater purpose.

"Hey," you paused Tan in another connection that lead to the next train car, "you go ahead and update Lemon, I'm gonna pop into the loo."

"I'll wait," he nodded, his phone ringing. "Sorry, love, just a minute. 'S fucking business."

You only nodded and slipped into the bathroom, doing your business, washing your hands, and when you emerged, you jumped back slightly in shock when the Momonga mascot was standing right there in the doorway. You peaked to your right, and in the next train car, through the window, spied Tangerine on his phone, the car mostly empty to your left.

"You need in here?" You asked the mascot, but it just stared at you. "I mean, d-do you need help outta that God awful costume?" More silence. "Riiiight, well, this is weird as fuck. Soooo... I'm just gonna... Go..." You mumbled, slipping out of the bathroom, but was instantly blocked from Tan's view. "The fuck? Oi, c'mon, mate, my friend technically gave you the plushie back." More silence. "Look, you creepy motherfucker - "

But you gasped when the plush mascot shoved you backwards, forcing you to stumble into the automatic door leading to the empty train car - yelping when it opened and you fell backwards.

"Fuck! Goddamnit, that hurt," You snapped, rolling to your feet as the human-sized plushie waddled towards you; the back of your head throbbing from impact and the automatic doors closing to trap the pair of you. "What the fuck, mate? What'd I do? The fuck you want?"

When the oversized head was removed, your mouth went dry. "Remember me, bitch?" The Hornet seethed.

"Ah, fuckin' Christ."

The Hornet smirked, "You've seen my face, you know what that means? I gotta take you out. You've evaded me too long."

"Rome wasn't my fault!" You barked instantly, watching her begin to maneuver out of her costume.

"You got my partner killed, bitch!"

"It was an accident!"

"Bullshit, bitch!" She raged, shedding her mascot costume to reveal a train attendant's uniform - wondering how long she'd been waiting for this opportunity if she was prepared to this level. "You had a hit list, we were on it - "

"Oh, fuck off, as if you've never been given orders!"

Her neck cracked as she tossed the costume to an empty seat. "Time to get my revenge," she grit, "bitch."

"Learn some new insults, my God, you're so fuckin' boring. Throw in some 'cunts' or even call me a 'arsehole', just lay off the 'bitches'," your eyes rolled, dodging the Hornet's first flying fist and nearly stumbling off your feet. You exchanged blows, dancing around one another, grunting, growling, heaving for breath, trying to incapacitate the other. On a particularly hard push, the Hornet managed to dislodge your gun and send it under a set of seats.

"Not so tough now, are yah, bitch?" She laughed sarcastically.

You wiped a small dribble of blood from your lip, panting to heave your shoulders up and down. "All right, you asked for this. Bring it on - bitch!" You laughed right back, the Hornet lunging forward. However, you missed the way she pulled out a prefilled syringe and tried to stab you with it; luckily evading the injection.

"Know what's in here?" She taunted. "Boomslang venom! Yeah, that's right. Highly potent, hits your system in 30 seconds, making you bleed from every orifice - "

"I know, you stupid fucking wanker! I watch the bloody news! I went to college! I'm educated enough to know!"

The doors opened again, revealing Tangerine. "Fuckin' hell!" He snapped, "You all right, Olive!? Hey?"

"Stay back, Tan, this bitch is mine!"

The Hornet wailed as she launched at you again. You were battered and beaten, the other woman lobbing you into furniture, tables, and train walls - causing small cuts to form on your unblemished skin. Yet still, you barked at Tangerine to stay back, that you had this.

You and the Hornet ended up on the floor, trying to one up each other. However, luck was not on your side because the Hornet had you pinned and she simply dropped the syringe into the flesh of your hand. You didn't need to think too deeply, you just rolled over, snatched up the syringe, and stabbed her, too - exposing her to the venom by pushing the syringe's plunger. You both stared at one another with wide eyes, panting.

"30 seconds before the venom does its thing," you taunted, knowing that any good assassin kept the antidote on their person - just in case. Her eyes narrowed and tongue swept over her front teeth, weighing her options; eyes locked in a stalemate, daring the other to make the first move. Do nothing, you both die... Reveal the antidote, only one will die.

She reached into her breast pocket and pulled out a new syringe, you lunging for it with impressive lithe to stab into your neck and push the plunger. She seethed, "You bitch."

You stumbled back a step, colliding with Tan's chest as neither of you could look away as the Hornet's eyes went red with blood filling every cavern and crevice. "Oh, shit, that doesn't look good," you winced in fake sympathy. "You've got another syringe, right? A back-up?"

She warbled and wheezed, "What do you think, bitch?"

"What's with the whole bitch thing?" Tan asked in your ear. "She know any other words?"

You only shrugged as blood poured from the Hornet's eyes, filling her lungs to drown her from the inside. "No second antidote? Ah, that's just poor planning on your end, love," you taunted when the Hornet dropped to the ground, choking, blood leaking from her mouth. "I mean, you only carry one antidote? I thought you were supposed to be a professional? With your choice of weapon being venom, I mean," you laughed a little, "seems pretty stupid."

The Hornet continued to choke, trying to crawl up the aisle, but only getting a few feet before the effects of the venom took hold fully. She flopped onto her back, the blood congealing in a thick and tacky substance; staining the stolen uniform and floors of the train.

"What the fuck was that?" Tan snapped, turning you to face him. "Are you hurt!?" He worried, checking you over for visible sign of injury; finding two puncture wounds - one in your neck and one in your hand. You were decorated in soon-to-form bruises, but no bones were broken and you seemed relatively okay besides the small cuts.

"Tan," you soothed, placing your hand over his on your cheek. "I'm all right, I'm fine. She just caught me a little off guard."

"What the hell was that, huh? You got some kinda death wish, is it?"

"It's all part of the job!"

"Like hell, it is! This is why I didn't want you involved - "

"'Cause I could get hurt? Fuck's sake - "

"Yes, all right!" He exploded. "Yes, because you could get hurt! I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to you, and look at yah now! I was on the fuckin' phone and you were fighting this... Wait, who the fuck is that?" Tan pointed at the dead body.

"Mh. The Hornet," you answered with a shrug. "She's been after me since Rome 'bout two years ago. I might be one of the very few who knows what she actually looks like - so, no wonder she wanted me dead. Plus... I might've allegedly, possibly, kinda-sorta got her partner killed. Turns out, he was also her lover and she's been after me since."

His head shook, "So now you have international enemies?"

"I mean, I guess it means I'm good at what I do - else they wouldn't bother to come after me."

"You shouldn't say that with pride! That's not how this works!"

"Tell me how you think it should work, then!"

Tangerine glared, "You shouldn't be involved. You worked too hard to become a teacher, to have a real career, and you threw it all away, for what? For this life?"

"What do you care, Aaron!? Honestly!? 'S been years, you just disappeared from my life! I don't think you have the right to boss me around anymore! We're not fuckin' kids anymore!"

He huffed a sharp exhale, "You seriously don't know? Really that fuckin' oblivious?"

"I can't read minds! Why don't you use your words like a big boy?"

Aaron, one of your longest standing friends and practically your family without blood, just nodded sadly. "I thought it would've been obvious by now," he sighed.

"What're you - "

"I love you," Tan interrupted. "Yeah? I fucking love you."

"Yeah, I know, and I love you, too, Aaron, but that doesn't - "

"No," he interrupted in a snap, face falling, "no, I meant that I'm in love with you. Jesus Christ," his hand wiped down his face, "been in love with you for years now. Maybe it started when you punched Tommy Jenkins in the nose when we were 16, maybe it started when we aged outta the orphanage and got our first apartment together. I don't know when I fell in love with you, but I know I am."

You paused, "A-Are you serious?"

"Deadly. But luckily you've already had a dose of antidote, eh?"

The chuckle you emitted was involuntary. But then, your irritation bubbled, asking, "Why hold it in all this time? And if you were in love with me, why not call? Why abandon me in the first place? I went four years - four, Tan! - without you and Lem, the two people I treasured the most, felt safe with, found a family in. Not a single one of my letters were returned; you deprived me of any phone call, not even a single text! You just disappeared from my life."

He bowed his head, "I had to leave, sweetheart. I couldn't keep yah around."

"Why? Tell me why right now, or we'll go another four years - "

"This job is dangerous, love, bit too dangerous in honesty. You know that, but to have emotional attachments only leads to error and a lot of hurt. I was trying to play it safe, thinking I was protecting you, because if any of our enemies knew how precious you are to me, they'd use you against me - they'd hurt you and I couldn't risk that."

"You can't protect me from everything," you whispered. "Aaron, you and Brian are my family, you always have been. Your whole life, you've protected me from the brutality of life, but you can't protect me from reality any longer. I'm sorry if me working upsets you, but I know what I'm doing, Aaron. I'm not fragile, I won't shatter."

"I know," he sighed, shaking his head. "I know it's irrational, love, but I can't go another day without you. I know it's been four years too long, I thought of you everyday, and never have I had such regret. Walking away from you, doll, it hurt worse than getting shot."

You sighed and avoided his eyes, admitting, "I like to think that in some twisted way, I entered this life in the hope that I'd run into you. Felt like the only way we could see each other since this line of work is so bloody unorthodox."

Tangerine sniffled, "I always wanted to come back, find yah again, but I couldn't risk it. I can't risk you. And listen, if you don't feel the same, that's all right, love, I know I just sprang this one you, but I just needed you to know - "

"Aaron, you need to stop shutting yourself down when you feel vulnerable," you sighed patiently, waiting for him to nod his head silently to indicate for you to continue. "Take a breath and listen to me." Another nod and you revealed, "I've been in love with you, too, since we were teens. I didn't want to disrupt what we have, so I stayed quiet. You and Brian - you're the only ones I care about, the only ones I want in my crazy, chaotic, unpredictable life. Too much time as already passed, we've missed so much, I don't want to miss another minute."

He crowded closer to you, both hands lifting to hold your cheeks and stare into your eyes. "Been waiting ages t'hear that," he whispered.

You smiled softly, "I love you, Aaron. Absolutely, maddeningly, unequivocally in love with you."

He chuckled and returned the sentiment, foreheads brought together before his breath fanned across your lips. He paused to give you time to reject him, but you boldly pushed yourself to meet his lips in a long-awaited kiss that set your heart and soul on fire. Mouths moved in sync, cheeky tongues mingled, teeth gently clanked together as you kissed passionately and without restraint. His hands dropped to hold your waist, your own curling around his neck to gently thread your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck; his curls feeling soft, moisturized, and bouncy.

You were rudely interrupted by your phone, Tan pulling back with a small smirk, "Gonna get that? Might be important."

"Promise 's just Constance," you grumbled, fishing for your phone and stepping away from Tan's embrace. "Hey, love," you greeted.

"Ah! Thank God! You're not shot yet!"

"No, not shot, just stabbed, earned a few bruises but I'm good," you snorted, looking under the seats to locate you gun. "What's up, why're you calling again, I told you I'd call you when I'm good."

"We have new intelligence."

"Lay it on me," you sent Tangerine a look; his face stoic, indicating he was listening intently.

"Your next stop is the last stop that the White Death's men aren't stationed at. If you wanna make a clean getaway, you gotta get off at the next stop. It's your last chance."

You winced, "Uh... About that, so, funny thing..."

"What did you do?"

"You always think the worst of me, I don't always do shit."

"Did you?"

You paused and glanced at the squashed Hornet, shrugging, "Not really, it's just not the cleanest job I've done."

"What happened?"

"You always assume the worst in me."

"You only prove me right."

You chuckled, "Yeah, all right, fair enough. Listen," you sniffled, turning to face Tan, "we don't have the case or the Son..."

"You better fucking find them. After this stop, all others are gonna be too hard to get off at. The White Death has men in position."

"Well... Funny thing, right," you winced, rubbing the back of your neck, "uh, so, it wasn't our fault, but the Son is dead. The Hornet got to him, used Boomslang venom, I got her after so you can register her as deceased."

"Oh, fucking Christ! You fuckin' serious? Please tell me this is just a bad joke."

"Why would I lie?"

You heard Constance take a deep long breath, knowing she was counting to ten in her head to keep her composure. "Okay, Olive, sweetheart," she spoke slowly, "tell me you know where the case is. Please. I need to hear the words."

"Pretty sure Maria's guy lifted it, but no confirmation yet."

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ! Go fucking find him, get that case, and if you don't make the next stop, call me - there's always a backup plan."

"Let's just do Plan B, it'd save a helluva lotta time."

"Olive," Constance growled, "get the Twins, get the fucking case, and get off the fucking train before you all get fucking shot."

You nodded, "Yeah, all right, love, we're on it."

After hanging up, Tan mused, "So, how's Constance?"

"Uh, yeah, no, she's stressed," you cleared your throat. "Wait, how do you know her?"

"Our handler's collaborated with her before."

"Mhm... Okay, just listen, Aaron, I told you the White Death didn't hire me."

"Right."

"Meaning I need that case and I need you and Lem to get off this train with me. We're gonna get to a safe house - "

"No, no, love, we've our own agenda."

"The Son is dead, the case is missing, your job is literally fucked," you reminded sharply. "However, I can still make it worthwhile if we find the case and get off this train. C'mon, love," you pleaded, "you have to trust me. Please, just - don't go through with the last of this job, it's not gonna end well for anyone. But my way means we all get a chance at safety and keeping our lives."

His head shook, "We won't make it in time."

"We can try."

"We need to find Glasses first - and fucking Lemon."

You agreed.

"Looks like your luck's turned around, Joburg," Lemon sneered, the four of you coming to an agreement to take the case, leave the Son's body for the White Death to find, and get to your safe house.

"If it was up to me, we would've left him," Tangerine growled. "Seriously, love, why the fuck did we save him, too?"

"It was the right thing to do, we were all being set up," you explained, surveying the train station. "All right, c'mon, this way."

"So," Ladybug was heard, "you guys are, like, siblings?"

"Who? Us and Olive?" Lemon snickered, watching the blonde man nod. "Sure, mate, something like that."

"Seem real close, the way she risked her life for you two..."

"Well, they say the blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb. 'Course we're gonna look after one another."

The three men followed you, Tangerine keeping a tight hold of the silver briefcase with a train sticker on the handle. When you made it outside the station without incident or interruption, there was a sleek Range Rover waiting at the curb - an old acquaintance of yours leaning on the grill.

"Olive!" The other agent greeted with a grin.

"Gouda," you returned with enthusiasm, hugging the man. "So nice to see you, thanks for doing this."

"Constance calls, I answer," he nodded, eyeing the three other agents behind you. "Huh... See you made some friends, did yah?"

"Something like that," you mused.

"How's it goin', Gouda?" Lemon asked, making your brows pinch.

"You know each other?" Your eyes shifted between the group.

"Unfortunately," Tangerine nodded with a sigh. "Mate..."

"Yeah, fuck you, too, Tangerine," Gouda sneered. "You know, Olive, your friend fuckin' shot me."

"Did you deserve it?"

Gouda paused, "Doesn't matter. All right, whatever, let's get goin', I'm supposed to get you to the safe house."

Everyone piled into the car, you in the passenger seat to give Gouda a rundown on the train's events. Why you needed the safe house. Why you got off before Kyoto, like was agreed upon. He agreed it was all a mess, telling you the team was still gathering information on the White Death's plan - something in motion that would've ended all your lives. Upon arriving at the safe house, you thanked Gouda, him telling you Constance would arrive in a few days to ensure you lot were smuggled out of the country - not trusting other methods as the White Death had associates planted everywhere.

The house was stalked fully with fresh food in the kitchen, a wall of racked weapons, money in a safe, and reinforced panic rooms in the event of an attack.

"Nice, very nice," Ladybug complimented, looking around the place. "Better than what we've got..."

"Pick your rooms, we'll be here a couple days. My handler's gonna work on getting us outta here without the White Death knowing. Maria negotiated terms for you, Mr. Bug, so you're staying with us."

Everyone spread out, finding the bedrooms fully equipped with new clothes and other necessities, like toiletries. Everyone was able to get long, hot showers, and eventually, when you exited the bathroom in a robe with a towel used to dry your hair, you found Lemon sitting on the living room couch - listening intently to the news report.

"Might wanna see this, love," Brian frowned, making room on the couch for you to sit.

"What's up?"

He nodded at the screen, you watching as a Japanese news station reported on a runaway bullet train that obliterated a local town. Your eyes widened, mindlessly translating the segment; Tangerine eventually joining you two. "What're you two watchin'?" He asked softly, standing behind the couch with his hands on your shoulders. From the opposite door that housed a few other bedrooms, Ladybug entered; the news catching his attention, too.

There was a tension in the air that couldn't be described.

"The White Death sent a fucking bullet train off the rails. All those innocent people..." You whispered, camera crews capturing the devastation and destruction caused. You realized, "He set us all up, he was gonna kill us all."

"Thank God for Constance. What the hell did we do to him, though?" Lemon wondered. "I mean, have any of us actually done a job for or against the White Death before?"

"No clue," Ladybug answered nervously, "but whatever we did, really pissed him off if that's his retaliation. What was the motive, though? Why put us all on the same mission? Same train?"

"Sounds like a vendetta," you answered, the room going silent as everyone contemplated your words. "C'mon, lads, 's been a day. Should get some shut eye."

"Yeah, yeah," Lemon sighed, "good idea. You'll let us know when Constance makes contact?"

You nodded in agreement, bidding them all a goodnight before heading for your designated room. It wasn't more than ten minutes later, you sat on the bathroom floor with an array of medical supplies spread around you in an effort to clean your wounds, when a knock sounded at your door. "Come in," you permitted, tending to a decent sized gash in your hairline.

"You all right?" Tangerine asked softly, leaning in the doorframe of your bathroom. He was dressed down in a pair of joggers and a black wife beater.

"Peachy keen, love."

"You know, this image, right here," he gestured to you, the blood drops on the pristine floor, and all the supplies you required, "is why I didn't want you involved."

You nodded slowly, "Yeah, but it's just the name of the game, you know?"

"Need help?"

"No, I'm about done," you sighed, tightening the gauze around your thigh, "but you can help me up, though."

He smirked and offered his hand, helping hoist you to your feet and sigh as he looked you over. You breezed past him, patting his chest under a blood-stained button up; entering your bedroom and dropping onto the bed to rub your tired feet. You watched Tan follow you, a question on the tip of his tongue that couldn't quite take form.

But Tangerine was a man of action, so he abandoned his words and knelt in front of you; caressing your jaw and cheek to sweep his thumb over the apple of your cheek. You were ready to question his unusually soft demeanor when he leaned in and pressed a sultry kiss to your lips - sucking the breath from your lungs.

You hummed in contentment when he pulled back with a small smirk, whispering, "Been wanting t'do that for ages."

"Took you long enough," you breathed, surging forward to wrap your arms securely around his neck and meet in a messy, passionate kiss that made both your heads spin.

Slowly, you felt Tan rise from his position and moved back on the bed to give him room to crawl over you; kiss never ceasing, only a tangled mess of lips, tongue, and teeth. You moaned with greed when his tongue swept against the seam of your lips, being granted access, letting your mouth mingle and dance together in unbridled passion you weren't even aware Aaron could harness.

"Fuck," you whimpered when he detached from your mouth and started down your neck; licking, scraping his teeth, creating a legion of markings as he went. After years of loving him at a distance, this entire ordeal felt surreal; as if in a dream or alternate universe. His hands squeezed your waist before drifting downward, caressing your hips, hoisting your uninjured leg up his hips before grinding his swelling cock into your pantie-covered cunt.

Your hands daintily fumbled with the material of his shirt, quickly shucking the material from his sculpted torso. You knew he was fit, but seeing him bare like this was something else entirely - mouth salivating, but being unable to truly appreciate him in his glory. You were both littered in bruises and cuts, evidence from fighting the entire night; careful with the injuries, happy with the soft, gentle way you caressed one another.

His hands moved to the tie of your robe, pulling the knot to release; able to slowly push the material aside and look down at your exposed flesh. No bra, no shirt, only a pair of panties under that robe. He licked his lips, meeting your eyes again. "C'mere," he whispered, sitting back, "waited too long, fuckin' hell."

You smirked and sat up, the both of you locking eyes and stripping from your cloth barriers as fast as you could. Reaching for him again, you crashed back into the mound of soft pillows, keeping him close; legs spread to accommodate his slender hips, holding his neck and shoulders to keep him where you wanted.

Tangerine grunted when you reached for his cock, stroking him slowly to full mast. Your lips were sticky, wet tongues wagging against one another to create webs of saliva when he pulled back. Gently knocking your hand away, Tangerine shimmied down your body, lips pressing quick pecks anywhere he could reach; pausing at your nipples and biting harshly.

You yelped with pleasure, back arching, Tangerine smirking at the reaction - mouth covering one breast as his hand pawed at the other to let his fingers pinch and tweak your nipple. His tongue flattened against your sternum, looking up to meet your eyes as he continued down your battered body until his face was nestled between your thighs. "Oh, Jesus fuck!" You moaned when he took his first taste.

He hummed, "Exactly my thoughts. Fuckin' hell, tastes bloody delightful - fuck me." He grunted and dove back in, latching his lips around your clit and using the fingers of his dominant hand to plunge knuckle-deep in your sloppy warmth. "That's a good girl," he praised, using two fingers to pump in and out, in and out, in and out - your body twitching as pleasure mounted to make you unable to lay still. "Mhm, look so fuckin' pretty like this - spread out, all f'me. Can't get tired of this sight," he moaned, lapping at your wetness.

"Aaron," you begged, gripping the curls at the crown of his head, grinding your hips up to his mouth. "Oh, God, yes, yes," you encouraged, breathing turning sharp and shrill. For a moment, you completely forgot where you were and why you were in a safe house; reality melting away when fully enraptured in Tangerine. "There, right there, holy shit," you whimpered when he prodded that one special place of your inner walls.

"Gotcha, love, I gotcha," he mumbled, sucking and flicking his tongue against your pearl as he focused fully on that spongey spot; causing a wave of slick to generate on his tongue. He grunted, bicep flexing as he pumped his digits faster and faster; his other hand laid across your lower belly to hold you in place.

"Shit!" You met a long-awaited crescendo, a little embarrassed by how quick you met your end - having been a few months since you were intimate with anyone.

But my God, none of them compared to Aaron. His body was slick with a light sheen of sweat, his mustache scraping your sensitive bud with his fingers still working against you. You tried to wriggle away, but Tan held you in place, his other hand now holding one of your thighs wide for his benefit. You forgot there were other occupants in the house, moaning and whimpering the longer Aaron lapped at your essence and messily fingered you.

You could've cried from the pleasure, pulling on his curls as a second orgasm washed over you. You, too, were now sweating, stomach knotted and legs beginning to shake slightly; thighs closing around his ears as your muscles contracted.

Tangerine chuckled when he pulled back, taking one more nip at your swollen and sensitive clit; sighing in satisfaction as he looked up at you, evidence of your pleasure smeared around his mouth, chin, and mustache. Cheekily, he wiped around his mouth, sucking his fingers clean while you tried to catch your breath.

"Jesus Christ," you chuckled.

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah," you grinned, tugging on his curls again to indicate you wanted him back up with you. He didn't waste time to crawl over you, and when in place, you reached for his warm cock to place at your entrance.

"Oi, hang on, gotta rubber - "

"I'm on birth control, we're okay," you rushed. "Unless you're dirty?"

"Nah, love, I don't fuck nobody raw," he smirked, "but there's a first time for everything, huh?" Aaron laughed almost cruelly when he pushed his hips forward and notched his cock's head inside you, pausing a single moment to watch your reaction as he sunk deeper to stretch you out.

Maybe you had been depriving yourself all these years, Tan's cock being a size, length, and girth you've not handled before. Nobody compared, your cunt weeping with joy at finally having a challenge worthwhile; his balls swinging before being trapped between your bodies. He made a noise, a mix of a moan and whimper, readjusting his hold on you so he held one thigh and the other was supporting his weight by your head.

Your hand laid on his waist, the other around his neck; eyes locked in a passionate connection when he began moving. Your mouth opened in shock, huffing for air, unable to look away - blue eyes pinning you in place. His mouth descending onto yours, rolling his hips to create friction; cock head prodding your gummy walls as the muscles in his back and shoulders flexed with each movement. You lifted a hand to hold his cheek, tongues swirling around one another, Aaron increasing his pace a fraction.

Your nails dug into his flesh, leaving trails of raised, red scratches in their wake - yet it was as if he didn't even notice. "Know I love you, yeah?" Aaron whispered, veins in his neck protruding; heart hammering.

"Yeah," you nodded, wanting him impossibly closer, "yeah, Aaron, I love you, too, holy shit."

Maybe emotional intimacy turned you on more than you ever realized. He clenched his teeth, both hands pressed onto the mattress to support himself as he started to thrust faster. "Not gonna last, love, not with the way you're squeezin' me," he warned, a few stray curls falling over his forehead, his golden medallion swinging and knocking gently against your chin. "Jesus, fuck, you feel so fucking good," he rambled, "like you were fuckin' made for me - Goddamnit."

"We're idiots for waiting so long," you moaned.

"Won't ever be that stupid again," he laughed gently, looking down between you to watch himself disappear and reappear in and out of you; coated in your slick, veins of his cock now throbbing as he felt the familiar coil begin to tighten.

His thumb pressed to your clit and rubbed, your moans getting louder and longer; own hands groping your breasts and tweaking your nipples to add to the sensations Tangerine provided. "Baby," you whined, "'M close - "

"Get there, love, c'mon," he begged, "can't hold back - wanted this f'so long, fuck!" One hand slapped his away to let you control your clit, Tangerine grinning, "Naughty girl. Shit, that's a sight, innit?"

"Don't stop!"

Aaron growled, pinching his brows in concentration as he snapped his hips, the sounds of his balls slapping against you clapping around the room; mingling with your moans, groans, whimpers, and the thick smell of sex that hung in the air. "Feels so fuckin' good," he mumbled, straining himself to resist. "Tight and warm, Jesus fuck, my love, you're perfect - so fucking perfect - Goddamnit."

"There, there, there," you chanted, rubbing your clit vigorously while Aaron dissolved his restrain to hammer into your core with sloppy movements. "Yes, oh, fuck, yes, yes, yes! Please, Aaron, yes, right there, baby, please - don't stop!"

"Fuckin' cum for me, c'mon, love, let it go," he growled, teeth scraping over your collarbone before latching in a gentle bite on your shoulder. "That's it, there it is," Aaron moaned, feeling the restrictive flutter of your cunt, "good girl, good fuckin' girl, that's it."

Your mind went blank, unable to process anything other than Aaron's cock still hammering into you at a brutal pace; the entire bed creaking and rattling against the wall. You whimpered, lips parting when he didn't stop, encouraging, "Need you t'cum, baby, please. Wanna feel you in me - want your cum, fucking need it. C'mon, Aaron, c'mon, love, finish in me - fucking fill me, please, I need it."

"Yeah? Need it?" He grunted, cheeks flushing.

"So bad, need your cum so bad!"

He grit his teeth, humping all the faster before the warmth of your cavern became too much. "Shit!" Tangerine shouted, taking two more rolling thrusts before fully sheathing himself in you as rope of sticky, thick cum painted your inner walls. "Oh, holy hell," he panted, keeping himself still but his arms trembling to support himself as he pulled back only slightly. "All right?" He checked, glancing to where you two were conjoined. "You good?"

"Perfect," you nodded, petting up and down his sides as if entranced and in disbelief this happened. He felt so soft all of a sudden, a stark contrast to his stoic and aggressive personality. "You all right?"

He grunted and retracted his hips, cock springing free to let him crash on the bed beside you; both your lungs working in tandem to attempt to even out. "Absolutely, so fuckin' good," he told you, both staring at the ceiling for a moment before his head turned to look at you. He grinned slyly, chuckling, "That really happened?"

"Think so."

"Fan-fuckin'-tastic," he mused. "Stay put a second, love," he whispered, standing from the bed to venture into the bathroom. After a moment, he returned with a warm and damp washcloth, helping you clean up the cum leaking from your cunt; wiping away the messiness. He cleaned himself as well, you crawling under the covers of the bed - not bothering to redress.

When Tan joined you again, he snuggled into the sheets and opened his arm to welcome you into his side. It was weird, you usually hated sleeping with anyone, finding it too hot and restrictive, but laying there with Tangerine, you felt incredibly at peace.

"You know Constance isn't gonna be here for a couple days," you mentioned casually.

"Uh-huh."

"Think I just found our past time."

"Oh, darlin'," Tangerine chuckled, "we're not leavin' this bed."

"We'll have to eat."

"Least that Ladybug twat can do is bring us our food, eh?"

But you paused to consider something, laid on his chest and idly tracing the scars on his beefy chest. "Hey, Aaron?" You whispered.

"Hmm? What is it, love?"

"What's gonna happen when we leave here?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, here, in Japan, we're together... But when we go home t'London, back to reality, what's gonna happen?"

"What? You mean, with us?"

"Yeah."

He snickered, "Why would anything change, love? I'm not just in love with you, here, in Japan, but everywhere - wholeheartedly. So, when we go back, we make this work. No matter what it takes."

"Really?"

Aaron grinned, "'Course, love. Went four long years without even seein' yah, I have no plans t'let you go again - not so soon, not ever." He stretched and tucked his free arm behind his head, "You're stuck with me, doll. That all right with you?"

You grinned up at him, "Perfect by me."

His lips found yours again, starting a very noisy night that made both Lemon and Ladybug clamp pillows over their ears.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

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dckweed · 8 months

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NEXT THING YOU KNOW, gator tillman

in which gator tillman and his arranged bride figure out life and each other and what a real relationship means to them.

warnings: mentions and depictions of abuse, mentions of bruises, arranged marriages, romance, humor, dead parents, slow burn relationship (not completely but not not), basically we know the tillman men are asswipes so i 100% see Roy forcing gator into this kind of situation for money for his militia, eventual smut with kinks such as thigh riding, gun play, choking, spanking, lots of marking and possible spit play.

series masterlist here, series playlist here.

special mention to my girly @xxbookdrunkdemigodxx for listening to my rambles and helping me out with the playlist!

PART TWO: the ride

True to his word, Gator had become your friend. The first couple days of the week passed with the two of you holed up in the house together, pretending to work on the wedding planning even though neither of you knew what the hell you were doing. You kept to the upstairs living room, wanting to stay as far away from Boyd as you possibly could, still angry at him for the whole situation and not wanting to cross paths with him again for as long as you could, your stomach still hurting under the fabric of your shirt from the lashing you had been given from Boyd’s belt as soon as the Tillman’s had left the morning of their first visit. Three times he had hit you, the leather of the belt welting your skin through the thin fabric of the dress you had been wearing. That was typical Boyd, always harsh and quick, and always on parts of your body that were easily hidden by clothes. It had been that way since your mother had married him, though you had kept it a secret from her due to the fear he had built in your brain about what he would do to her if you told her. You didn’t dare tell Gator either, not sure if you really trusted him with that secret quite yet, and definitely not sure of what would happen if Boyd found out. You didn’t want anymore drama than there already was in this god forsaken house.

You liked Gator well enough, he was easy conversation, a little dense in some areas but what he lacked in that he made up for in humor and the willingness to at least listen to you explain. The two of you talked about plenty of things but mostly school and whether or not either of you had been seeing anyone before you had been forced into your godawful situation. You weren’t sure if you were reading his face right, but for some reason you thought that he looked rather pleased when you said that you hadn’t ever exclusively dated anyone, strictly forbidden by Boyd. You learned that he had only ever had one serious girlfriend in his life, in the last years of highschool, though she had taken off to some fancy school on the east coast when they had graduated and he never heard from her again. You could see the swirl of emotions in his big brown eyes, and the way his mouth tensed as he spoke. He shook his head and changed the topic a moment later, picking up one of the magazines laid out on the ornate coffee table in front of the two you and asking what the hell the difference between Ivory and White was and why did it matter so much which shade your dress was.

Those first two days were rather pleasant, you found yourself awfully comfortable in his presence, relaxed even, and the next day when he didn’t show up just after breakfast, you had to admit you were a little disappointed, but you got about your business none the less, trying not to dwell on it. He’s a Sheriff’s Deputy, you reminded yourself, he wont have time to talk to you twenty four seven..and then you kicked yourself for even feeling upset about not having his attention for the day. You’d known him for four whole days, what the hell was wrong with you?

He texted you around lunch time.

Gator: sorry for not being able to help today, even though i know im not much help to begin with..i’m on duty for 24hrs

You were slightly giddy and that made you slightly disgusted with yourself, you barely knew this dude and you were being essentially coerced into marrying him, what the hell is wrong with you?

You: you wont miss much, promise! Be safe out there..

You felt like that was the stupidest response you could have possibly sent, but oh well. You weren’t wrong though, he wouldn’t miss much. The day was mostly spent in the upstairs living room, sprawled on the couch as you called the bakery in town to schedule a tasting for next weekend, and the local bridal boutique to schedule a showing for this weekend..afterwards you spent the next few hours sorting through different styles of wedding dresses you thought you would like, sparing no expense on designers because if you were being forced to do this damn thing, then Boyd was certainly going to pay the fucking price one way or another. And then after you had spent as long as you could doing that, you begrudgingly made your way down the stairs, you had dragged your feet long enough on the girls’ dresses for the wedding, and if you picked them out without their fathers input, you feared you would face another lashing.

You hesitated outside of his office door, taking a deep breath before raising your fist, knocking once, twice, before he gave you the okay to come in. He’s seated at his annoyingly large desk and just barely glances up at you from whatever paperwork he’s doing as you step into the room, closing the door behind you like he liked. “Ah, i was just about to send for you,” He says, setting down his pen as you step closer and closer to his desk, your magazines heavy in your hands. “Sheriff Tillman has requested that the ride with you be moved up to tomorrow morning, his wife has to go out of town this weekend and he’s decided to go with her.” You hum in acknowledgement and he notices your laden arms. “Whatever do you have there?”

How could he speak to you so calmly? As if you weren’t sporting the markings of his rage on your skin? “I’m going to the bridal boutique this weekend, and I want to get the girls' dresses while I'm there, I thought maybe you’d like to help pick them out..” You say gingerly, he seemed to be in a good mood but you could never be too sure with him.

He nods once, pushing whatever he was working on to the side. “Alright, let's see it.”

You give a small smile, slightly relieved as you start setting some of the magazines in front of him. “These are some that I liked, but there’s a few more that I wasn’t sure about. Gator and I decided on a purple and green theme, pastel, summer colors..” You prattel nervously, leaning over to show him the styles that you particularly thought were pretty. He hums, glancing up at you over the rim of his glasses as you settle the magazines in front of them.

“And how are things going with the boy?” He asks, inspecting the pages you had dog eared.

You were rather taken aback by the question, you hadn’t really known him long enough to know how things were going, let alone marry the poor dude, but yet, here you were, planning a wedding. “They’re okay..he’s funny..” You shrug, not quite sure how to proceed. “He’s working today, but he was here the past couple of days to help..” You weren’t sure why you were telling the man, it's not like he didn’t already know who came and went in his house.

Boyd hums and the office falls silent for nearly an hour. You’re about to excuse yourself, let him look at them alone so you can get the hell out of there and go eat some lunch or tack up Bubbles for a ride when he speaks up. “I like these ones best, i’m sure the girls will look lovely..” He says, handing you one of the first magazines you had handed him. You have a quiet breath of relief, but roll your eyes subconsciously, annoyed that he had taken that long. You start grabbing things as quickly as you can, itching to get away from him. “I’ll open up the limit on your credit card, spare no expense.” Are the last words he says, you hum in response and walk out of the office quickly, leaning against the door as you close it behind you.

You’re up before the sun the following morning, your alarm clock bleating around four. You were awake well before it though, your thoughts on a never ending loop. You honestly weren’t even sure if you slept and sighed in annoyance when you trudged your way to your bathroom and noticed the dark bags under your eyes. How were you supposed to sleep? Your life was about to be tethered to someone else’s in a few short weeks, two months wasn’t that much time and you didn’t know this boy for shit. Sure, you guys were on friendly terms at the very least but..marriage? Why had you signed those damned papers? Why did you let him talk you into it?

Shaking the thought from your head you turn the handle on your sink, letting the water run as you went about your skincare business. You’re dressed in less than half an hour, spending a few minutes at your vanity table to swipe some makeup under your eyes, an old habit you had picked up when you lived here full time before boarding school. You figured it wouldn’t take long before the sleepless nights would start again, and you couldn’t help but to wonder if they would be any better when you were with Gator.

Gator..

He had never texted you again yesterday, though you had sent him a few messages throughout the day, and even late in the night just to keep your own sanity. Telling him how much Boyd irritated you, telling him that he needed the next weekend free for cake tasting because you didn’t want to choose something he didn’t like, telling him you were bored..sending him a pouty faced selfie when you noticed he had opened but not responded to any of your messages (that he had also opened and never responded to).

You realized your fiance was a horrible texter and you were going to have to fix that, if you were going to be friends then he needed to at least respond to one of your messages, even if they were annoying.

By four-forty-five you’ve pulled out of the driveway and are off down the main entrance of Boyd’s ranch, your jeep pulling the horse trailer with Bubbles inside of it with ease. Thankfully one of the ranch hands had woken up earlier than you (he had always been friendly towards you, and it was deeply appreciated because most of Boyds employees treated you like shit too) and attached the trailer to your car and loaded up your horde for you. You even found your saddle and other things in the back of the Jeep when you peeked in to look, surprised that your horse had even been loaded for you.

You made a mental note to thank the man when you got home.

The drive to the Tillman Ranch isn’t too long, hell, they were practically your fucking neighbors. You were so focused on survival when you were on the ranch that you had never paid attention to lands that surrounded you. When you arrive at the gate, your headlights shining on the metal and the dirt beyond it, two ranch hands are already there, pulling open the heavy iron for you.

“Thank you!” You half shout, rolling down your window. The one on your drivers side nods once, tipping his hat at you and proceeds to tell you to follow the road towards the house and barn, he would be right behind you to help you unload. You’re surprised when the Sheriff is already waiting for you when you pull up near the barn. You see him on the porch of his house, arms crossed over his chest and hat perched low on his head and your stomach tightens, your hands shake. If you’re late and he tells Boyd, you’re done for, is all you can think as you slide your key out of the ignition and hop down from your seat, your boots kicking up dust.

“Mornin’ Miss Augastine!” His voice carries out from the porch, the sun is only just now starting to rise, a dark glow low in the horizon. You breathe in and walk around your car, up to the porch. “Wasn’t expecting you for another hour or so..” You breathe out. “Interest you in some coffee? Breakfast? Karen just put away my breakfast but I’m sure she’d be more than happy to get something going for you.”

You paint the smile on your face, your morning having been ruined by your brief panic attack. “No, Sir..thank you for the offer, but I was thinking I would go get breakfast with Gator this morning, or an early lunch..” You knew he was probably on his way home by now, and you had the sense that he would probably only sleep for a few hours.

He hums as he meets you at the foot of the porch, staring down at you from the bottom step. Your cheeks flush and you look anywhere but at him as his eyes rake over your body. You hear him mutter something akin to ‘pretty little thing’ under his breath, but you knew you weren’t supposed to hear it so you pretend not to. You were dressed for a casual ride, blue jeans that fit tight in all the right places but loose on your legs, draped over your brown and pink leather boots, and you wore a pink short sleeved polo shirt, the buttons undone enough to show just the hint of cleavage that was sexy enough to keep men entertained but innocent enough to not get you in trouble. You had your own cowboy hat pulled down over your hair, resting comfortably on your head.

“He’s not home yet.” Is all he says when you mention his son, his tone cool and slightly unfriendly. You furrow your brow, wondering why there was the sudden change in demeanor when it came to his boy. “That your show horse?” He steps down off the porch, and you look up to him still, the man being much taller than you even on even ground.

“She’s for more than just show, Sir..” You say playfully, a smile on your face as you happily lead him over to the trailer. He helps you lead her out of the trailer, admiring her with you and then leads you on a slow walk to the barn.

He seems kind, but you know its more for show than anything. You soak it up though, letting him open the barn doors for you even though you’re more than capable of doing it yourself, and you let him lead you into a stall near the back of the barn so you can leave Bubbles and go get the rest of your stuff to tack up. After a few more minutes of talking the two of you separate, you going off to your jeep, and he going off towards his horse to tack up.

As you step out of the barn the sun has risen just a little bit more, and you hear a car pulling up next to yours. “What are you doin’ here?” His voice holds a tinge of familiar nervousness to it, and you can’t help but to soften up for it. He’d gotten out of his squad car before he’d even turned the damn thing off, the radio still on. Your breath caught as your eyes took in his uniform, he sure is somethin to fuckin’ look at, you said to yourself, swallowing back wicked thoughts. “Thought you weren’t doin’ this til the weekend?”

“Plans changed.” You shrug, not really sure what else to say. You figured he of all people would have known that his dad was going out of town this weekend. “He’s in the barn.” Brown eyes dart behind you and then back to you, looking you over. “Want to go get lunch or somethin’ later?”

He sighs, running a hand down his face, shoulders relaxing. “Yeah..yeah lets get lunch later..”He says, turning on his heel. You shake your head, going to grab your saddle out of your car, just as you’re stepping around the front of it you hear him again. “I got it, Pearlie..” You sigh, but not from annoyance as he lifts it out of your grasp. You liked the way your name sounded when he said it, like it meant something and nothing all at the same time. You shake your head, feeling silly for the thought and follow him.

Roy is headed out of the other side of the barn just as you follow Gator in. “Mornin’ dad.” He says, voice a hard and cold tone.

The older man already mounted in his saddle merely tips his hat at his son, but gives you a friendly smile. “Miss Pearl, I’ll be outside when you’re ready.” He says as if there’s no rush, but you know from his sons body language that there most likely is.

Gator’s shoulders are tense and you know it’s not from the weight of the heavy leather saddle he’s carrying. You rush in front of him to open the stall door, trying to be helpful, and you can see the pinched look on his face, the coldness in his big brown eyes. He lifts the saddle up and sets over Bubbles, who stands perfectly for him. He turns his hat backwards and you just about melt into the hay strewn floor, who knew that stupid things like a man you’re engaged to turning his hat backwards could be so damn hot? He doesn’t say a word as he starts fastening the gear in place, like he’s done it a thousand times before.

It only hits you just then that he probably has done it a thousand times before, his father clearly loved the animals, why wouldn’t he teach his son how to tack up and mount?

“You didn’t have to do that for me, Gator..” You say softly as he finishes. He only shrugs and straightens up, patting Bubbles on the belly gently as he does. “Thank you..” You whisper as you walk past him, grabbing the horn of her saddle so you could pull yourself up.

Just as you’re about to put a boot in the stirrups you feel his chest against your back, the smell of whatever it is he smokes encompassing you as he grabs your hips firmly and lifts with ease. “Good?” He asks, watching you settle into the saddle. You nod once, hoping your hair and hat are doing a good enough job of hiding the flush on your cheeks and neck, not having expected such a display of obvious strength. “Good..off you go then..” He holds the stall open for you and you ease Bubbles out of it, just as you start to walk past him you feel his hand on your calf. He’s looking up at you with an expression you’re not familiar with on his face, and it makes you worry. “Be careful with him.” It comes out as more of a statement, but you can hear the pleading behind it, and it makes you worry even more, a slurry of questions forming in your mind. “..please?”

“Okay..” You say. He lets you go and you don’t question farther, spurring Bubbles to follow out the way you had seen Roy going with his own horse. “Hey Gator?” You look over your shoulder at him, he has his hands on his hips. “Go take a nap the bags under your eyes are bigger than the ones in my closet!” You laugh as you leave him behind you, and you swear you can hear him chuckling too.

The ride starts off in silence, you and Roy side by side as he took you on the scenic route through the ranch. You had to say that you really didn’t know much about the Tillman’s, you wouldn’t know how to start off the conversation even if you had wanted to, and you truly didn’t want to, not with Gator’s pleading words lingering in the back of your mind.

The ranch really is beautiful, especially in the early starts of the summer, the rolling hills are green, and you can see where they have more cattle off in the distance. It’s a calming atmosphere, more relaxed than life was on the Augastine ranch.

“How’s my son been?” His voice is deep and rough, startles you for a moment. You turn to look at him, adjusting your hat in the glare of the sun. “He bein’ nice?” Nice didn’t sound like a word that was normally in Sheriff Tillman’s vocabulary, you wanted to point it out, the smart mouthed bitch in you raring at the thought but you thought of what Gator had said, and then you thought of Boyd and your still aching ribs and thought better of it.

“He’s been sweet.” You say, offering a small smile, the warmth of the sun hitting the skin of your face. “Real helpful with the wedding plans..he’s taking me to lunch after this too..” You say, rambling nervously. “Oh, before I forget, did he ever ask you about the twins being in the wedding?”

Roy shakes his head at you, pursing his lips. “I don’t recall a conversation..Karen would have mentioned it to me i’m sure..” You notice his hands tighten on his reins and you furrow your brows at it.

“Oh, he probably just forgot is all.” You chuckle, wanting it to stay light hearted. Truly, you had never even asked him to ask anything about the girls and you hoped you weren’t about to get him in trouble because of your small fib..you just wanted to change the topic to something more neutral. “I’m going to the bridal shop this weekend to look for my dress, and I already have dresses picked out for my sisters but I was wondering if you’d like me to pick out dresses for the twins as well? I would absolutely love to have them in the ceremony..they could be my flower girls, or hold my train…” Your sisters were already taking the spots as your bridesmaids, you didn’t have a choice in that matter. Gator had three of his best friends stepping in as groomsmen and you only had one friend coming to the wedding, and she was going to be your maid of honor.

“I think that’s a lovely idea, Miss Pearl.” He says and for a moment, everything is silent again as he hums a tune you’re not familiar. “Matter of fact..” You glance over at him again. “Karen and I are leaving to go out of town tonight, we’ll be gone through the weekend..we were planning to take the girls with us, but I’m wondering if you want to take them with to the Bridal shop if you want them fitted for dresses? Karen and I would love the alone time, of course if you wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on them with Gator for the weekend?” You wanted to protest, but, you realized that it was probably a good excuse to get yourself out of Boyd’s house for a few days, and just the thought sounded heavenly, even if it meant carting around your fiance’s sisters and playing house with him.

“You know what, Sheriff Tillman,” You say, giving him your dazzling, people pleasing smile, the kind that had man many a guy weak in the knees back at boarding school. “That sounds like a fantastic weekend, i’d love to get to know my new little sisters better, you and Karen go have fun on your little trip! Me and Gator can handle things!”

He gives you an easy smile in return. “Well alright then.” He says, and then nudges you with his knee from his horse. “And please, little lady, call me Roy.” He gives you a wink that sends unpleasant shivers down your spine and you giggle politely in return.

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fearlesstigerquotev · 4 months

Text

Ensnared

Yandere M!Pied Piper X F!Reader

Warnings: Mild body horror, possessive + yandere behavior masterlist

Once upon a time, in the land cradled between the winding waters of the river Weser, there lay two towns, Hamelin and Weidehohl, each a curiosity of its own. To the west, Weidehohl nestled amidst the towering, age-old trees, where the pagans roamed, their shadows falling on creatures of the forest, and their deeds shrouded in darkness. They committed crimes that troubled the very heavens, where cats were denied their lives, and dogs met a mournful fate.

On the opposite bank, to the east, stood Hamelin, a settlement graced by the protective embrace of four mighty forts, where no soul could pass unseen or unnoticed. It was a city crafted from the warm, welcoming wood of time, its heart radiating with peace and prosperity. In Hamelin, the gentle hand of Christ blessed the land with abundance.

And in the blessed town of Hamelin lived a widow named Y/N. Her heart was as pure as the morning dew, yet heavy with the sorrow of a love lost. Her beloved had embarked on a sacred missionary journey, and for seven long days and seven nights, he had vanished from her sight. It was on the seventh night that his lifeless form was returned to her humble dwelling, a pitiful sight to behold. His body resembled a mangled corpse, the limbs poking out in odd angles, the silver cross ripped from his neck. Even the cherished keepsake, a timepiece adorned with a lovingly-crafted portrait of his beloved wife on their wedding day, had vanished into the shadows.

With tearful eyes and a contrite heart, the widow sought solace in the confessional, where she bared her soul to the priest and questioned the sins that had led to her husband's gruesome fate at the hands of the pagans. But the priest, hidden behind the confessional booth, offered words of comfort and guidance.

"Nay, dear child, the burden of blame lies not upon your shoulders," he whispered gently. "The pagans of Weidehohl are the architects of this sorrow, and their lives shall remain fraught with wretchedness unless they turn to the benevolent embrace of Christ."

"Father," Y/N confessed, "in my despair, I confess to having missed Sunday Mass twice in succession. What penance must I undertake to cleanse my soul of sin and ensure the reunion of my husband and me in the heavenly kingdom of our Lord?"

"My dear child," came the priest's soothing reply, "perform acts of charity, extend your hand to the needy, and become a sponsor to the orphan. Through these acts of benevolence, your soul shall find its path to redemption, and in the divine grace of our Lord, you shall one day be reunited with your beloved in the heavenly realm."

And so, the widow poured the essence of her very being into the sacred act of spreading the love of the Savior. She became the guardian of the forsaken, running a humble orphanage for the downtrodden street urchins. Beneath the sheltering eaves of her makeshift home, she provided not only a sanctuary from the cold, unforgiving world but also warm soups that chased away the hunger that gnawed at their fragile bellies.

To those who approached her with intentions other than those of the divine, she responded with an unshakable steadfastness. Her words, like a sermon from the heavens, would gently rebuke them, reminding them of the plight of the orphans and how humanity had often forsaken those less fortunate. In her wisdom, there was a grain of truth: Why should the Church entrust a humble widow with the monumental task of caring for orphans, while it basked in the wealth derived from indulgences?

Yet, Y/N knew better than to arouse the ire of the Church, for as a widow, a solitary soul, she teetered on the precipice of society's margins. A single misstep could condemn her to the mercy of the clergy, leaving her precarious existence hanging by a slender thread.

But despite her pure intentions, the Devil would test her belief in God once again. This time, He unleashed upon her beloved Hamelin a deluge of rats and mice, a horde of vermin with ravenous appetites. They descended upon the city like the overflowing waters of the river Weser, devouring the meager stores of grain, defiling the once-pure waters of the public well with their loathsome droppings, and spreading pestilence and death throughout the land.

In the face of this vile pestilence, the people of Hamelin turned to their faith with fervor, seeking solace and redemption in daily worship. Their voices echoed with praises to the Lord, sung until they grew hoarse from their devotion. Yet, amidst their piety, the plight of the orphaned souls remained unseen, their suffering ignored. Hearts once kind were now veiled by self-righteousness, their pride preventing even a morsel of bread from being offered to those in need. And so, Y/N toiled away once more, her body growing weaker and more fragile as the weeks passed by.

One day, a curious traveler, bedecked in a garb of vivid hues, sauntered into the fortified realm of Hamelin. Bemused and bedazzled, the city's folk kept a wary distance from this stranger, their wariness ignited by his flamboyant cloak and hair ablaze like Hell's own fire. At his neck, he wore not the sacred cross but a flute, intricately carved from bone.

"Citizens of Hamelin," rang out his voice like a melodious tune, "I bear, through secret charms unknown to most, the power to summon forth all creatures dwelling beneath the sun—those that crawl, swim, fly, or race across the land. These are the creatures that oft bring harm upon you—the mole, the toad, the newt, and the serpent. People call me the Pied Piper. If I but free your town from its rat-borne scourge, shall you grant me a thousand guilders?"

"A thousand guilders? Secret charm?" laughed the crowd. "We'd sooner drink cow's urine than entertain the whims of a charlatan like thee! Why, you are clothed like the pagans of Weidehohl! We good Christians would never associate ourselves with infidels like thee!"

And so, the Pied Piper found himself slumbering upon the city's cobblestone streets, right before the doorstep of the humble orphanage. Unable to turn a blind eye, she fed him with the crusts of bread the children could not eat, and soup made of vegetable scraps.

He looked up at her, bewildered that one of the citizens who had rejected him would dare nourish him. "Dost thou not fear condemnation? To aid a stranger such as I?"

"Nonsense," came her swift reply, "before me, I see neither stranger, nor maverick, nor even one hailing from Weidehohl. In this moment, I behold but a fellow soul, a man who may succumb to the bitter cold if aid is not given."

Bringing the broth to his lips, the Pied Piper relished in its salty aroma. How could a denizen of Hamelin, known for their stern devotion to God's path, radiate such tender warmth? In what felt like but a heartbeat, the soup disappeared from his bowl. "Is... Is this the doctrine of thy Lord?"

She smiled as she took the bowl from him, "Indeed, it is the teaching of our Lord, who bids us to love one another as He loves us."

The Pied Piper could only chuckle and rake his fingers through his red hair, which twirled upwards in delicate curls at the base of his collarbone. "Throughout my long years upon this Earth, they have regarded me as but an exterminator, a mere tool to rid their towns of the earthly vermin. Never have I been graced by the presence of Mother Mary herself."

"Mother Mary? How does a pagan such as yourself know of her?" curiosity laced Y/N's voice as she sat down next to him. Inside the orphanage, the children, intrigued by the unusual encounter, giggled and vied for a view between their surrogate mother and the curious visitor.

The Piper bestowed upon her a subtle, enigmatic grin, and with a deft movement of his fingers, he began to play a soft, mesmerizing tune on his flute—a melody so enchanting that it seemed as if the very stars had descended to dance in the moonlit night.

The children, drawn by the enchanting music, abandoned their timid hideaways and gathered around the pair. Their eyes, wide with innocent wonder, bore witness to the magic of the Piper's tune—a melody that had never before graced their ears. For indeed, the orphans had never heard of the wonderous music before. It was unlike the solemn hymns of the church, rigid and controlled. Instead, it was a music that spoke of freedom, of joy, and liberation from the chains of the mundane.

Y/N couldn't help but feel that it danced on the edge of sin, but she could not deny the children their delight. She allowed them to dance and frolic, their laughter rising like the joyful laughter of forest spirits.

In the end, she never received an answer to her question.

With the passage of time, Y/N perceived a waning in the rat population, witnessed the orphans suffer less from the grip of disease, and felt her own health flourish in the absence of the rodents.

"Perhaps the Lord has graced me for extending sustenance to the Pied Piper?" she pondered, conversing with her fellow women during Sunday Mass.

"Hush, dear," came their swift rejoinder, "you were simply a fortunate soul. Our homes still teem with the pestilence of mice!"

"But consider this," Y/N beseeched, her voice laden with earnestness, "What if God sent this plague as a trial? A test of our kindness and charity, a challenge to alleviate the traveler's suffering, even if he be unconventional? If each working man were to bestow but one guilder upon the Piper, he would amass a bounty sufficient to lead the rats away from Hamelin!"

Her words did not go unheard by the mayor. Share his own coffers of wealth would he not. But pluck a thousand guilders from the working class to please the Piper—a fine deal indeed. After Mass, he called the Pied Piper to his office and told him of the proposal.

In response, the Piper laughed and shook his head, "Gentleman, the thousand guilders were but a jest. All I seek is a fine wife in exchange for my services."

The mayor's eyes lit up in delight. Now, he would not even need to part ways with his beloved coin! "Go forth, and choose an unmarried woman of your liking! Do anything that you must in order to kill the rats of Hamelin!"

On the morrow, the good folk of Hamelin awoke to a sight most peculiar. The Pied Piper, with his mop of hair burning red, led an army of rats away from the town, all the while playing a merry tune on his bone-carved flute. His garments billowed like swallows riding the breath of the wind, whilst the rats scurried at his feet, dancing with mania. They squeaked and chirped, running and tumbling in circles, over cobblestone roads, through the gates of Hamelin, over hills and meadows, until they reached the winding river Weser.

"Little rodents! Ye must be parched from your toil! Go, partake of the waters that the Lord Christ hath graciously provided!" sang the Piper, twirling around his own axis as he played the hypnotizing tune.

As if by some mystical command, the rats leaped into the river, one by one, and there, they met their watery fate.

"My, 'tis sorcery!" screeched the resident priest, clutching his cross in the palm of his gnarled hand.

The mayor interjected, "But Reverend, thou must admit, the young lad hath cured us of this plight! And in return, all he seeks is a companion—a wife!"

The Pied Piper turned toward the crowd and bowed with theatrical elegance. The colors of his cloak simmered and contorted—one moment, a vibrant lemon yellow. The next—deep cerulean blue. Loud gasps of wonder and awe erupted from the crowd, who had formed a small comune along the river bank.

With a dazzling smile, the Pied Piper got down on one knee and raised his arms to the heavens, "Fair maiden, protector of the orphans, a soul akin to the benevolent Mary herself! Amongst the Christians of Hamelin, you alone treated me with the grace of human kindness. Would you do me the honor of becoming my cherished bride, despite the unfavorable reputation that taints my name among your townsfolk?"

Y/N froze and averted her gaze to the ground. Using the sleeve of her dress to conceal her face, she replied, "An outcast for an outcast, it seems. Piper, you have placed me in a most wretched predicament. I have dedicated my life in service to God and find myself an unwedded widow, a spinster by the world's judgment."

His expression darkened but was soon replaced by a charming smile. "Fair lady, I take it as a no?"

Unable to speak another word, the widow nodded, unable to reciprocate his smile. What use was there in accepting the hand of a man whose name remained a mystery to her? Besides, the priest would never officiate a marriage between a believing woman and an infidel. Even an infidel who saved Hamelin from certain ruin.

"Fear not. I had a lingering suspicion that such would be thy response."

Once more, he brought the bone-carved flute to his lips. But this time, the melody that poured forth carried an almost otherworldly quality, a tune that seemed to teeter on the brink of the supernatural.

The children, both orphans and those with families of their own, emerged from their homes, their gleeful laughter and exuberant cries resonating through the air like the unholy revelry of a wicked tarantella. Yet, as the music wove its spell, a sinister transformation overtook them. Their limbs elongated and stretched, contorting to grotesque proportions, as if every ounce of their humanity was being pulled apart by unseen hands.

The adults could not move a single muscle, it was as if their feet were planted firmly in the ground. Y/N herself was no exception, and she screamed and begged the Piper to stop this madness. But whenever she tried to take a step toward him, her legs were met with a gripping pain, searing through her body, mind, and soul.

There was no doubt: The Piper wanted to see the Hamelians suffer. More specifically, Y/N.

Their movements grew wild and untamed, limbs flailing and twisting with a grotesque grace that defied the laws of nature. It was as though their bodies had become marionettes, but marionettes manipulated by a malevolent puppeteer, their movements driven by a dark and unholy force. They twirled and spun, their movements growing increasingly frenzied, entrapped in a wicked ritual that defied the doctrine of the Lord itself.

Laughter mixed with the cracking of bones as the children frolicked and pranced, following the Piper as he led them away from Hamelin. Together, they crossed the shimmering waters of the river Weser, traversed rolling hills, until they disappeared into the foreboding depths of the woods that led to Weidehohl.

Y/N was the first to break out of the trance. With lightning-fast reflexes and a heart heavy with dread, she sprinted toward the looming woods that led to Weidehohl, her voice raised in a desperate cry. "Children! Come back! This is not the path ordained by the Lord!"

But her pleas fell upon deaf ears as the possessed children, their eyes vacant and their limbs contorted, followed the Piper deeper into the shadowy woods. Deeper into the woods she ran, the gnarled branches of ancient trees clawing at her as if trying to hold her back. She followed the trail of broken branches and twisted footprints, breadcrumbs of waning hope that stretched endlessly into the heart of the forest.

Finally, at the heart of the sinister forest, she stumbled upon the lame boy, his eyes wide with terror and confusion. His frail form quivered, unable to join in the manic dance of his peers. Y/N knelt beside him, murmuring prayers of protection and strength. "Where have they gone, dear child?"

"There..." the lame boy whispered, pointing to a clearing in the midst of the woods.

The widow told the boy to stay put and approached the clearing. To her surprise, the clearing appeared utterly ordinary, as if untouched by the dark enchantment that had gripped the children. Bewildered, she turned back to check on the lame boy, only to have her heart plummet to her very shoes. He had vanished without a trace.

Heart hammering in her chest, she ran through the woods, between the ancient trees, leaping over quaint forest streams. But the lame boy was nowhere to be found. Not even the wretched Piper or the remaining children.

A gloved hand grabbed hers. Y/N shrieked and begged to be released, but it only caused the grip to tighten. She blinked and the next thing she knew, she was in a forest village, surrounded by the children she had come to love oh-so-dearly.

Overcome with relief, she ran forward and embraced the children, sobbing and wailing just like at her deceased husband's funeral. Through tear-filled eyes, she beheld a wondrous transformation of the world around her. Waters gushed and sparkled, fruit trees burst into bloom with an otherworldly splendor, and flowers unfurled in hues that defied earthly comparison. Sparrows radiated a brilliance surpassing that of peacocks, their plumage resplendent. Horses bore wings akin to eagles, and even the honeybees had shed their stingers.

"Welcome to Weidehohl!" announced the Piper, taking her hand once more. Ignoring her pleas for release, he dipped and twirled the maiden with practiced ease, his steps sure and confident. Whispering sweet nothings, he drew her close for a kiss, and his gloved fingers brushed away the tears that streamed down her face. They danced in graceful circles, surrounded by the mesmerizing melody of the birds and the bees, who serenaded them with joyful chirps and buzzing.

It was then that she noticed the transformed children, each playing a flute similar to the one that dangled from the Piper's neck. The tune that flowed from their instruments was all too familiar—a cherished church hymn reserved for weddings. Dread seized her heart as the realization settled in, and all she could do was weep as the Pied Piper kissed away her tears,

As she danced, a small piece of metal fell from within the man's garments and onto the forest floor.

A timepiece, engraved with a lovingly-crafted portrait of herself on their wedding day. But in place of her late husband now stood the Pied Piper.

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suhjihanma · 11 months

Text

☩ ℑ𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔅𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔰 ☩

☩Kink (10) : Age-gap. ☩Pairing: Toji Fushiguro / Female Reader ☩Word Count: 1,951 ☩Content Warning: Barely legal, massive age-gap (reader recently turned 18. Toji hinted towards late 30s-early 40s), turning of legal age, dirty talk, mentions of suggestive sexting, hooking up, building experience inside the bedroom, hints of a no-string relationship, mentions of teachings, Toji simply wants to 'corrupt' your purity even more. ☩Author's Note: This kink can skirt around the contents that may be disturbing. You have been warned. Minors, kink shamers, and ageless blogs do not interact. I was originally supposed to post this yesterday, but my period cramps had me in a choke hold. If you're curious enough to read, then likes and reblogs are much appreciated. Also, I will post an updated master list post tomorrow since tumblr decided to hide my posts regarding kinktober on my blog. Funny since they're others roaming around this site with nudes.

The feeling of the premature cool breeze grazed gently across the tall yet beautifully builded back of a man who was quite certain that he was under prepared. As to why he was waiting in the breeze questioning his life choices, Toji Fushiguro couldn’t pass on an opportunity that was going to be placed in front of him sooner than not.

Sunset was pulling its curtain across the city skyline as he waited patiently in the cold, with the slight occurrence of becoming one second of timidness. The street lights continuously flicker along with the crowd passing along the grit filled sidewalks. Toji’s head, that was occupied with the numerous profiles of women with ‘copy-catted’ personalities, now gain attention to the passing masses. People that had plans to attend, memories to create, and all other things that Toji could mention off the head. It wasn’t as if he was a people-watcher, but he wanted something to get his mind off from things.

It was one of those things where he continuously questions his moral rights and wrongs. He could be better than any man yet, he steers across things that have no genuine value. As the activity of people watching began to bore the mind of an anxious wait, Toji quickly fumbled across the screen of his phone, tapping and swiping through every profile that garnered the attention of the personal male gaze. Endless body dresses that hugged tightly across well graved curves, smiles that brighten the room of a nightclub, and to even the pestering pets that seemed to be across every photo, Toji’s endless swipes of a potential could gain him more satisfaction than seeing it in person.

The eyes cater to the imagination, after all.

Besides the careless decisions of choosing which profile to like or dislike on, Toji had already picked out someone to meet up in person. It was not wrong, per se, to just slowly kill time by waiting for someone. Someone that piqued his interest while being on the so-called “god-forsaken” dating app. A person who actually had some personality of sorts, and didn’t follow any ridiculous social trends that were making its way across users in the social media age.

That person was you.

It all started with a conversation about the concepts of luck. Some are born with it, others have to try their damndest to reach the pinnacles of it. A snarky comment was made on one of your dating prompts that was listed on your profile. You answered a question about “What was your luckiest night?” and you stated you won three gambling scratch-offs in one week (but you didn’t mention how all three scratch-offs were given to you on your birthday). Now, Toji and you were providing counterproductive arguments on skills, talents, and other unnecessary topics that grew away from the main topic at hand. As the topic became more intense, so did Toji’s findings of word choice.

Toji flipped over to the ‘messages’ section of the app and saw the conversations that he had with you, prompting the whole meetup. Prude, yet exhilarating as Toji was a man of pure excitement. The rush of overtly sexual heeds grew to be more enticing with every message being sent.

“ If you want to test your luck, try it with me.” “Really? So corny, yet, I like it.” “You’re gonna like more when I’m pinning you down in that mattress.” “Oh my god.” “With clothes off that is” “So, are we just gonna be fucking on screen or meet in person?” “Coffee shop nearby the pier tonight.” “I’ll be there...”

Toji felt himself getting uncomfortable underneath his beltline. The stiffness slightly grew by each sigh, reminding himself of his behavior in public. Toji could feel like many women might find this off-putting. This could be the start of something. Anything. As a man pushing towards the doors of middle-age, chasing women who didn’t satisfy his needs became tiresome. What happened to a woman who wasn’t scared to become enticed by different things, to be put in her place, anything to be dominated by a man’s hands? Toji’s mind raced with every description as he looked up to the sky, clouds murked in gray while a faint, yet , gentle voice eloped his hearing. The faint question of a hello soon to get his attention as he looked over, eyes slowly widening with delight with a small smile on his face, wordlessly greeting the person standing in front.

“Hello. Are you, Toji?”

The woman that was standing in front of him made Toji want to ditch the formal etiquettes of greetings and engage in being the feral man that he is. The dark-colored dress didn’t do justice to man's imagination as he wondered what could be underneath that curvaceous frame. The ampleness of the breast weighed at the top, and the hair that was well kept even with the cool breeze that was circling around. A striking woman at that, Toji was lost for words until you greeted yourself again, this time with more of light humor.

“Yes.” He gulped.

You couldn’t help but to smile at his sheepish nature.

The continuous awe became more prevalent until you decided to cut the awkward-like air.

“My body can't be that amazing, can't it?” You suggestively curt your words with a smirk before sitting down on the bench Toji once previously sat on. Toji’s trance was soon broken as the humorous banter created an alleviating conversation. A scoff was made as Toji sat down next beside you. The infectious smile crept into a suggestive smirk of his own.

“Body nice enough to make a man silent, that’s for sure.” Toji stated. The side of her hips was touching the fabric of his pants, along with the sweetly made body perfume that dances across his nostrils, the man’s gaze soon to be all over your body. Not that staring wasn’t any bad, but being beside you, the impure thoughts that Toji could dream of with any woman proved to be more strong.

The phone that was placed snug in his pockets soon was taken out of his hands. As he glanced over your profile briefly, he looked over at the pictures before taking another well-studied glance at you. As he quietly studied the profile that was in his hands, a profile that reflected well on personality and mannerism, Toji decided it was best to engage with the bantering atmosphere.

“Can’t believe that you’re young and have a body like this,” Toji compliments, noticing the age listed on your profile.

“Well…” Stammering your words, finding to complete your sentence grew to be hard as you looked down at the concrete before a sense of heat formed across your cheeks. Toji studied you with confusion before you blurted out something of personal social regret.

“I just turned eighteen two weeks ago.” The redness grew to be more irritating as you looked at him with an awkward glance of regret. Embarrassing at best, you wished you could force your body to crawl into the fetal position, sulking at your social skills. The dooming head of shame became more strong as Toji stiffened his laughter.

Dumbass.

“Forget you heard that.” You quietly grumbled, your head now downcasted to the dark concrete floor that made itself a platform of your designer heels. You wanted to curse yourself for saying such idiotic things in front of a man, yet for some reason, the air that surrounds you two grew to be quite forgiving.

“Really? Barely legal.” Toji jokes before stiffening out another laugh. The continuous bantering that came from the older man grew to be tiring as you looked away towards him with a displeased expression. Toji looked over towards you and his face softened once the realization of the jokes became tasteless for the evening mood. “Forgive the jokes.” He apologized, placing his phone away in his pocket again before he rose from slumping on the bench. A posture that many men do not present when facing potential in a relationship.

“You are forgiven, old man.” You joked, a genuine smile forms across the corners of your mouth.

“Says the person who had ‘shitty’ sexual encounters.” Toji quotes you before smirking.

Seeing the eyebrows raised from the man next to you, you tutted quietly before tucking a strand of hair behind your ears. Toji’s expressions grew to be priceless as the gentle banterings ascended to deeper, yet sensual, conversing.

Two eyes crossing one another, body warmth shared with being close under the chilled night sky. The scene had become more intense with the hints of hooking up. No strings attached. It wasn’t as you wanted casualness, you simply wanted someone experienced. Gone were the days of ‘shitty sexual encounters’ of sneaking off into your room or car, going down on some pubescent, raging teenager who couldn’t hold an orgasm for one minute (you gave those guys the catchphrase ‘one-minute-men’). Now, you stood against someone that had more experience than any other man you have been with.

And, Toji was the perfect example of a well-experienced man.

Speaking of experiences, your mind randomly crossed over a conversation that you had with him in regard. Hearing his endless teasing and boasting about how women fawn over a man that has such ‘heavenly’ fingers is anything but ridiculous. Staring aimlessly at his sculpted thighs that hugged his black jeans ever so snuggly, your mind instantly plays the messages that were received and back.

“You might gain more experience with me, baby.” “Really now? How?” “Got to break that body somehow.” “Uh-huh.” “I can show you how to squirt. Suck a nice cock while getting played with a toy.” “There’s Pornhub for that, love.” “Yes, but how about it in real life?”

The mindless conversation of battling horniness soon waned as you now saw Toji looking over at you, his hands sneaking over to the waist that rested on the back of his arms. A gentle smile greets itself again before he whispers something in your ear.

Toji simply wants to break you.

“Still want me to erase those ‘shitty encounters’ that you had? Fuck you so deep that you have a craving for older dick?”

The gruff voice that became smothered with honey and sin made you want to form a puddle between your legs. The bassness made every strand of your hair stand at the back of your neck as you looked at him with doe-like eyes, pondering about what move he will make next. With such grit, the filterless choice of words became more enticing that came from Toji’s smooth lips.

The light in his eyes flickered as he looked over at you with eyes slightly narrowed. Eyes that showed his nature of being a fiend for everything that has such a semi-pure physique facing in front. Disgusting, many might seem to find, yet for Toji, it was something he couldn’t escape from, especially a woman like yourself, showing off every hint of piqued curiosity and pureness.

Hearing that sentence filled with gruffness in his tone of voice, you gulped quietly before answering his question, narrow eyes not leaving the blessed assets of your beauty.

“And what if I don’t hold those strong cravings?” You lightly tease.

Adding fuel to the fire only amplified Toji’s yearning for you as he got closer to your face before placing a chasteful kiss on your redden cheeks that now became heated with lust.

“Then, I’ll just keep fucking you until you have them. Every day, every night.”

And with that, the two of you left your seats from the bench to grab the last batch of strong, roasted coffee within thirty minutes of closing time.

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palepinklilies · 8 days

Text

the injury of finally knowing you

Note: Initially posted on ao3 but with a different title (this is my draft title btw); Trying my hand at posting my pieces here! I hope u guys read my stuff nd like em ^__^

Summary: Marriage is a vow… for better or for worse, for richer or poor, in sickness and in health… What’s to happen when vows are… wiped… erased… Or The one where Gojo Satoru fails to remember his darling wife at the right time.

wc: 10.2k

Chapter 1: Of lines and intersections (ch.2)

The last memory you have of him as he is, is a sore topic. Frankly, you blamed —is still blaming — yourself for the accident that befallen the sole person you love the most. Your husband, Satoru Gojo got into a terrible car crash that put him into a coma for half a year now, barely showing signs of regaining consciousness.

The night prior might be considered as your worse fight in the eight years that you’ve been together with Satoru. He always used to say that fights shouldn’t be slept in through the night, but not all things we want go as planned; because that night, you both had said words that couldn’t be taken back. Specifically, Satoru opened Pandora’s box and used it against you.

The cause of the fight wasn’t anything too destructive. Yet, it created a deep-seated wound between your relationship. It’s as simple as the talk of kids.

It’s not a sensitive topic in yours and Satoru’s marriage because you’ve already had a long conversation around wanting and having children of your own. For a while, both of you were on the same page: ‘no kids until we’ve established what we want to happen with our careers.’

Somehow, somewhere along the line, he wanted it differently. For quite some time, he’s been hinting making a family with you. It could be as simple as pulling you by the baby section in a department store, or showing you funny — adorable and cute — baby videos from the internet. At first it was endearing and warm to see him think about children so lovingly, especially with the prospect of one being half him and half you. But unlike him, you’ve yet to reach the dream younger you had always reached for.

Maybe it’s his leverage of having been brought up as a trust fund baby — someone with a golden spoon. While you had to work your way — with grit and passion, just to reach where you are now.

He’s Satoru Gojo, a genius business scion turned mogul. He’s already well respected, recognized and established for his prowess in handling many corporations and conglomerates under his family’s control.

Well you on the other hand… You’re still in law school. Against his insistence, you refused to use his money to attend law school after your pre-law undergrad. Which is why you had to apply for work to be able to afford it. One of the reasons for this is your pride. As foolish as it was, pride was your drive, not only because you didn’t want to succeed behind the shadow of his surname and money but also because you wanted to prove to his family that you’re worthy of being his wife.

Okay, but who is Satoru Gojo if not persuasive? Eventually he convinced you to accept his offer, albeit with your condition that the fees will be split in half and that it’s the only thing he will finance in your pursuit of a career as a lawyer. So when he threw those god-forsaken words of insult, it hit all your insecurities and broke you.

“I don’t understand why we can’t! I try to give you everything I can and yet this simple thing, you refuse to give to me!” His voice booms across the living room. Hearing those words only made you more heated.

“It’s not as simple Satoru! We… agreed. We agreed that we will establish our careers before we try for kids. Why are you turning back on that now?!” The pitch of your voice is starting to match his’ and the conversation was just escalating and getting more heated. The air feels heavy and your brain has triggered fight or fight and right now, fight seems to be the default choice.

“You wouldn’t understand me because you’re already at the peak of yours! — because your career is only moving up and forward. But what about me? What about my dreams?” Exasperated, you just sit down the couch, your head in your hands. Tears are also brimming your eyes and your chest feels tight and heavy.

Striking the iron while it’s hot, he resigns, “You know what, maybe my mom was right. I shouldn’t have married a selfish, poor girl like you.”

As if time stops for you; your voice gets stuck in your throat and the tears threatening to spill, had spilled. You didn’t know what or how to respond to that. Is that what he really thought of you?

For a few seconds, silence had finally taken over. The air felt suffocating. Leaving is the only thought you have above everything that’s been speedrunning your mind.

You wordlessly get up and brushed past him, only then does he see you tear-streaked face and your bloodshot eyes.

Feeling braised, he immediately realized the gravity of what he said. He quickly catches up with you as you scramble to pack a small overnight bag.

Everything feels heavy — feels tight, and all you can focus on is getting essentials: 2 pairs of undies and whatever clothing within your reach and your essential cosmetic products. Satoru watches you in chaos.

Before you enter the bathroom for your toothbrush, he wraps his arms around your torso, as if to restrain you. His head hung low atop your shoulder and you feel his ragged breathing. “Don’t leave. Please. I didn’t mean any of it. You can slap me, punch me or kick me but don’t leave, please.” A sob chokes him as he says the last word.

You’re also sobbing at this point, snot faced and all, barely able to say a word without hiccuping in between. It’s starting to physically hurt being skin to skin with him right now, so you break free from him. “Th-that doesn’t make it hurt any less. I… I just need time for myself.” You say as you step inside the bathroom. He just stands there silently crying, like you.

Before you cross the threshold to your shared penthouse he speaks, “I love you. Be safe.” More tears escape your eyes. He sounded so soft and defeated, and you know it’s nothing but sincere. Without looking back, you wordlessly shut the door until you hear the ping of the lock.

You stood in front of the door for what seems like a lifetime, crying and contemplating if you should actually leave knowing that once you do, something in your marriage will shift. Against all odds, you swallow the block in your throat and start walking away from your home, from your love, from your husband.

You ended up in a decent inn away from the heart of the city. Checking-in in a hotel was an initial thought, but with what happened hours prior, you couldn’t bear to spend more than you have to. It’s not pride — well maybe it is, however no one has the right to scorn you for choosing not to touch any amount in the shared bank accounts Satoru arranged after marriage.

Regardless, the salary you get as a part-time para-legal in a small law firm was enough to guarantee you the luxury of being away from anyone at the moment. You’re guaranteed the luxury of solitude, quiet and contemplation.

The life’s mundanity became an afterthought…ergo commitments left at work and in law school. You’d cross the bridge when you get there: you’d face the consequences of going AWOL once you’re mentally and emotionally fit to be back.

Three days passed and you still haven’t gone back to his penthouse. You also shut off your phone, disconnecting from everyone and anyone who can contact you. At one point during day 2, you felt homesick. You almost went back, keyword being almost.

The quiet and solitude gave you the opportunity to rest, sleep and tune everything out. You wouldn’t know how to face your husband anyway. Everything still hurts to the point that it feels numb. But then a thought crossed your mind: home. It was a fleeting thought, a snap decision if you will, but that same hour you packed up and waited for check-out time. You were going home.

An hour after check-out and you’re on a train back to your shared penthouse, which at this moment, is a gamble. Satoru’s spontaneous yet predictable (for you, that is). There’s a 50-50 chance that he’s home waiting for you while there’s also a chance that he’s at the office. There’s no moment for you to ponder on it, you just act.

Arriving, the only soul you’re able to meet are the trusted cleaners who comes and goes on schedule. You honestly forgot about their schedule, which is on a Friday. They meet you with curt greetings and smiles, which you return. You just hope that none of them have been talked by your husband into tipping your arrival at the unit.

Packing a small hand-carry luggage was quicker than you expected it to be. You take in a deep breath and think of ways how you can leave (without suspicion). Which is a difficult feat considering that one: leaving directly and walking out without a word would rouse so much suspicion. The word of the mouth isn’t so reliable and you wouldn’t want to leave and these people would make the false assumptions and tell on you; two: Satoru had probably gave the cleaners an order to inform him of your arrival and when you’d leave the penthouse.

Of both options, one thing is for certain, Gojo Satoru will follow you and will scour the whole of Japan just to find you.

You decide on a quick shower before leaving, which only took less than 15 minutes. You’re trying to minimize the time when Gojo could potentially come home if someone had snitched of your presence in the penthouse. Surprisingly, your exit went smoothly, even in the building’s concierge.

On the far side of the city, in the heart of the central business district, Gojo Satoru gets notified of your arrival in your apartment building. Quickly he tells his assistant to cancel today’s remaining meetings as he rushed towards the elevators. You came home. You came back. Satoru knows that this might be the last time he’ll see you. He knows he’s hurt you deeply. He knows the gravity of his words when he used the biggest insecurity you have in this marriage, hell, since the start of your relationship even.

On the monitor pad of his Jaguar, he had dialed your number 5 times in a row, only to be sent to voicemail. In all honesty, he’s praying to every god up there that you’re napping or doing other things that keeps you preoccupied enough to neglect your cellphone.

And right now as he’s currently speeding beyond the city’s limits, he’s left you yet another voicemail: “[name], hey, I’m still on my way back. I’m sorry for everything I said. I know I shouldn’t say it through voicemail but I want you to know that I am. I’m really sorry and I can’t ever justify the things I said. Wait for me at home, please. I love y-”

He wasn’t able to finish the last words when he felt a large collision against the left side of his vehicle. At that moment, time stood still for Satoru Gojo. One moment he was speeding forward with one goal in mind and in a split second he’s receiving a blunt force that made the car skid across the lightly trafficked road.

Nothing in his field of vision registered in his brain, it was all a blurry haze. Soon after the car skids to a halt, the last thing he sees is your contact name on the monitor pad before losing consciousness.

On the flip side, you’re seeing blurry hazes of Tokyo fading into greens as you’re seated on a train ride back to Sendai, your home — first home. Exhaustion is clearly seeping out from your skin albeit the lack of physical activity and work. Your mind is so muddled and fogged and it’s not helping that your brain is rejecting any other emotion aside from hurt.

Clarity and peace of mind is what you’re expecting from this short trip back home. In the back of your mind, a part of you is excited to return to your parents’ house, where you grew up and learned how to love and be loved.

After the train ride, the first thing you do is visit the cemetery. It’s been a year since you last visited and paid your respects. You brushed off a few dried leaves from the grave, and poured water over. “Hi mama, dad. Sorry it took me so long to see you again.” You couldn’t modulate your voice louder than a whisper with the tears that had started to streak down your cheeks. And there at your parents’ grave did you pour all the tears that you thought you had cried.

All the feelings of hurt, anger, pain, betrayal and most of all guilt came crashing down on you as sob your eyes out. It was only then that you felt you were safe to be vulnerable. Even without their physical presence, your mother and father had always been a source of comfort.

You kept whispering ‘sorry’s and you don’t even comprehend to whom and for what are you asking for forgiveness and reconciliation. Everything still feels heavy and all you want yo do is curl up and cry yourself dry. “Daddy I-i m-miss y-you… So m-much.” How you wished for your dad to be there. To be there and give you a tight hug and kisses on top of your head.

Catching your breath, you tried to calm down so you can vent to the empty air. Sniffling you start speaking softly, “Uh… I-i had a terrible argument with Toru daddy.” Verbalizing it only made you tear up again and a lump rise to your throat. Maybe this was what you needed: to be able to freely speak your mind without any external opinion that wouldn’t even help console your feelings.

“And it’s because I… it’s because I don’t want a baby yet…” your eyes shut tight and tears fell with it. “But I do want to be a mom so much… so so much especially if he’s going to be the dad… but I want to be a lawyer to the same extent.”

What stage of grief are you in right now? They say that going through the five stages of grief is non-linear. You could be in the first one: anger, then after a few hours you could have skipped to the third: bargaining. Some would even switch from one stage back to the other. Perhaps you’re in a limbo stage of feeling everything all at once? Is that even possible?

After crying in silence for what felt like an eternity, you stand up and dust your palms from the jeans you’re wearing. “M’sorry for not getting you guys flowers and forgetting to light some incense… I’ll see you at home…” You give a light touch to your parents’ names engraved on the stone.

The last time you’ve been to the house where you grew up in was the day of your father’s funeral. Entering the threshold once again after many years gave you a feeling of nostalgia.

You take in the dusty surrounding. All furnitures have been covered by drawsheets and the living room carpet had been rolled off to the side. Everything was almost the way that it was as you’ve last seen it.

“Mom, dad I’m home.” Only silence greets you, it leaves a bitter taste on your tongue that no one is there to greet you a “welcome home.” But still, you feel better being here. In a sense you know that your dad’s presence is here with you and that’s enough.

You decided to sleep in your parents’ room for the night so you left the luggage by the door and looked for cleaning supplies to tidy and clean the room up. In retrospect, you should’ve brought spare bed sheets and pillowcases, but you decided to simply run them in a nearby laundromat.

In the living room, you decided to look through photo albums for entertainment.

You’ve lived your life with your dad being the only parent you’ve ever known. Your mom died with the complications of giving birth to you with a weak heart. And your dad tried his best to immortalize your mom through pictures that they took during the whole pregnancy. Here you find the photo album you made of the first year you started college, the same year you met Satoru.

Coincidentally, snapshots of your relationship weren’t really put here on purpose — well for the first half of it at least.

Before you left for university your dad gave you one of his film cameras and told you to make and keep memories of college because it’s one to give the most notable memories of your lifetime. You think he was exaggerating then, but it made sense as you grew older.

Flipping the page, you see the first picture you took with Satoru and his group of friends. It was your first year as a university student, taking up literature, and he was in his second year. The only reason your paths had crossed that year was because you wanted to meet new people and make friends… so you attended a party without fully knowing how city kids define parties.

Initially, you attended the freshmen mixer within university grounds and it was fun! You met a sophomore guy who was one of the student council organizers for the networking event. His name was Suguru Geto. He had an aura that was enough for you to trust him… just a little bit though. Throughout the mixer event, you barely interacted with people your age. In your mind, you know it’s because of the fact that you were from the country side… who knows who or what city kids want as a friend right?

Admittedly, you did enjoy the mixer even if you were just seated at the corner. This went unnoticed to the senior members of the student council, hence, Geto approached you with a light taps on your shoulder. He simply gives a curt smile upon your surprised expression. “Hey, you doin’ good here? I’ve noticed you haven’t been going around talking to people.”

Embarrassing. You then reason out that no one wants to approach you or if you initiate, they usually cut conversations after finding out that you’re new in the metropolitan. “It’s fine though, I’m actually enjoying even if it doesn’t look like it. I just wish I can meet one potential friend.”

Now, Geto isn’t one to take pity in people. He’s got a quite awful attitude underneath his cool and calm demeanor. But somehow, he thinks you need a springboard. It’s out of his character to take strays in, but he does.

“Every year, after the freshman mixer, my friends and I throw a welcome party for students returning for the semester and for those new as well. If you’re interested, you can come. Just approach me after so I can write the address down.” He quickly bids you goodbye after that. You couldn’t even say a curt ‘thanks’ for his offer. Contemplating if you should go to that party is what plagues your mind as you decided to walk around in case you stumble upon someone who would appreciate talking to you.

So you did approach Geto for the address once the mixer finished… and you ended up in a… house… packed with young adults chugging alcohol, smoking and grinding against each other. You have half a mind to turn back and just enjoy the rest of the night in your small apartment, but you also wanted to experience the liberties of being a college student, namely the drinking and getting wasted privileges.

The loud bass reverberates against the floorboards and the walls of the entryway as you enter. Here you realize that you’re underdressed for the occasion. While other ladies wore micro-mini skirts, tube tops, little black dresses, and what nots, you were still wearing a university-dress code-appropriate outfit from the mixer earlier. You didn’t bother changing your cream skirt that goes just half an inch above your knees, a simple black halter top and a knitted cardigan over it.

Though you feel awkward and misplaced, you figure that you could find where they get drinks. You suspect that they’re in the kitchen, so off you go. Surprisingly, Geto is there too with a number of people laughing and bickering with each other once you stood by the kitchen entryway. He immediately took notice of you.

“Hey! Freshie girl you actually came! For one second I thought you wouldn’t.” All eyes went on you the moment he acknowledged your presence. It was agitating to be under their gazes, scrutinizing you, and perhaps the raven-haired boy took notice.

He motions for you to come closer to the kitchen island, “C’mon, what type of drink do you prefer? We have beers, cocktail punches… or are you a hard liquor type of girl?” His eyebrows raise, waiting for your response. “I’ll take the beer, please.” He takes a green bottle from one of the red ice boxes and pops the cap open for you. “Here you go, one bottle.”

You’ve only drank occasionally. Like during family festivities or birthdays, and those were limited to sips of cheap champagne and traditional sake. “I’ve told you my name but I haven’t caught yours, how do you want us to call you?” he asks before you took a swig of the bottle. You apologize and tell him your name, “Hey guys! This freshie girl right here is [name]! Be nice to her.” A series of ‘hey’s and curt waves were thrown your way and you slightly bowed your head slightly as encouragement of their greetings. “Well, this is a big party! I hope you meet the potential friends you were expecting from this afternoon.” After that you were left alone as one of the ladies in the group notified everyone of a ‘beer pong’ at the back area of the house, and they left.

The condensation of the beer bottle had transferred to your palm so you looked for paper towels and after that you went ahead back to the crowd and started walking around like a lost puppy. You expected something like this and it felt surreal to experience your first college party. Could be better but not bad for a first time right?

Surprisingly, the beer was palatable at least, but you start to think that maybe the offer of the cocktail punch could’ve been better. You passed by Geto’s group in hopes of being free from the cramped living room and he sends a small wave and a curt smile your way. You can’t help but silently herald him for being so polite, when his friends (in your assumption) are snobbish.

Beside Geto Suguru was his best friend, Gojo Satoru, and the raven-haired’s greetings to you didn’t come unnoticed to him. Suguru wasn’t the type to be that friendly, so naturally, it piqued his interest.

“Who’s that? Didn’t know you were into prude freshmen now?” He scoffs. The raven-haired tossed the ping pong ball, landing inside the far right cup, “I’m not. The girl looks like a lost puppy, felt bad for her that’s all.” Satoru just hums and takes his turn to toss the ball, he misses, and Geto knows it’s on purpose so he just scoffs. “Well, I’ll take a walk around then.”

In a less dense corner of the backyard, you tried angling the film camera so that you’d be in frame. You find that taking pictures of yourself like this is more difficult than if you’d use your phone. But maybe that’s the point of it all. You can hear your father say at the back of your mind.

“Phone cameras are becoming obsolete now huh?” You look to your side to see who’s come to intrude your bubble and what stands before you must be the prettiest person you’ve seen in your lifetime. Recovering from your surprise, you put the camera down. “Umm, I don’t think so?” He chuckles, “I’m messing with you. I’m Gojo Satoru by the way.” He offers you a hand and you shook it, also telling him your name.

He offers to snap a picture of you, which you don’t accept because you feel shy. You discover that this man doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer when he lightly grabs your wrist and takes the camera from your grasp. He starts pointing the camera at you, and you stand there in confusion, “well c’mon, strike a pose?”

And you do strike an awkward pose. Maybe this weird but beautiful guy can be your first friend? Or maybe he’s just looking for someone to hook-up with? That’s a common thing at parties… right?

Soon enough after Satoru had broken the ice between you and him, you find yourself back with Geto and his group, where you discover that he and Satoru are best friends. You may be naïve and new to these things but you weren’t stupid. The people in their circle definitely didn’t want you there. As you spent each passing minute in their presence, you piece that together as most of them choose to ignore you apart from the two men who took you under their wing.

It feels overwhelming having to do too much socializing for one day so you try to bid them goodbyes. Since no one acknowledged, you start to walk away, but someone grabs a hold of your arm.

“Leaving so soon? You haven’t even used the whole film roll.” He takes it upon himself to open your small shoulder bag and took the camera and raised it up, “Hey guys! say ‘cheese’!” He says as he wraps his arm around your shoulders and you look up the camera with a contorted smile with flushed cheeks. “Well then, see you around campus.”

Expectations always differ from reality because it wasn’t part of yours to keep stumbling across the silver-haired man. You could be in the classics section of the library and he’d coincidentally be there too, or by the university quad where you’d often write your essays and prose, and other unsuspecting places where you’d least expect him to be. At one point you suspected it was intentional but he just brushed it off that you were simply being so observant.

For the many months that you’ve spent time with him, you enjoyed his presence and completely, laughed at his jokes — saw him as Satoru and not Gojo Satoru, the scion of a multi-billion business empire.

But you knew to keep things platonic. At the back of your mind, you were certain that he’d never see you more than a friend he met in university. You were almost certain that the moment he gets his degree, you’d never cross paths and all will be part of your college memories. But really, not all expectations become the reality.

A huge chunk of the student body knew that Gojo was a notorious playboy. This is a false accusation and merely an assumption. Yes, he did like to sleep around but not as much as they say. If anything, Geto’s more of the playboy between them, who’s engaging in different set-ups with different girls almost every week! And he wasn’t able to shield you from the potential bad (false) things you’d hear around. But you weren’t just a notch in his belt.

He was able to show you a side of him only people he’s extremely close to can see and experience. You caught his interest in that party and never left his mind since. It feels foolish to orchestrate every single time you think you come across him in campus “coincidentally,” but he succeeded.

He used his charms — more like pulled off some strings, to get your schedule and he had everything memorized just so he can get a chance to meet you. Suguru had even called him a stalker for it and maybe he almost became one until you simply expected him to be where you are. Eventually, he got you — even if it took so much work and convincing for you to believe the sincerity of his feelings.

You’ve always considered him as a friend. A friend who you have feelings for, more like. Your subconscious would always tell you that if he did make a move on you, he’d leave you hanging and bruised. It was a simple push and pull: Satoru would make moves that seem to blur the lines of friendship and you would try your best to keep it platonic and not read into it. You’d always think he’d break your heart eventually, be it as a friend or be it as a lover.

So when you woke up in his bed naked after a long night of drinking and partying, you knew for sure that was the end so you left without a goodbye. Not a single bit of what memories you can recall from the night before were laced with regret.

When he rested his forehead against yours and kissed you with his soft lips, you didn’t pull away. You wanted to, but you didn’t. When he started touching — caressing you under your dress, you didn’t want him to stop. When he whispered sweet nothings as he plowed through your sopping gummy walls, you didn’t ask him to stop. How could you, when at that very moment it felt as if you’re the only people on this earth.

The boundaries you tried to keep for the past months of your friendship had been crossed the moment you let him kiss and undress you. It was a night of passion you couldn’t forget and regret. With a heavy heart, you walked away and left half your heart with him but with pride and dignity intact. You can’t ever be just one of his conquests if you’re the first to leave.

When Satoru woke up to an empty bed that morning, he was confused. It agitated him to see you nowhere in his suite and it didn’t help that you blocked him from everywhere he could reach you.

For the following days after that he’d leave class five minutes early so that he can catch you as you leave yours; Or, he’d try to catch you in the places on campus that you’d frequent during your vacant hours but to no avail, no one could ever catch a person who’s avoiding you like the plague. But still he was relentless.

Everyday he’d try to find you in the vast campus of the university. He tried to think how you would so he can anticipate where you’d probably go — was a hit or miss situation. But he was able to catch you in a back staircase made to be an emergency exit in the same building as most of your classes.

The thought was like an epiphany for him; he was staring at the narrow line of floor to ceiling windows by the back of the buildings when it occurred to him that you initially stayed there in your first days of university.

Even if he’s the captain of the basketball team, he was quick to leave practice saying some shitty excuse of an emergency, to which his best-friend just rolled his eyes at. He knew exactly why. But he didn’t pry nor try to tell on him. And so Gojo Satoru ran across the campus and skipped steps until he reached the 4th floor landing of the staircase.

You were mindlessly listening to a posted lecture on your student portal. You’ve been having sleepless nights trying to finish all the writing and literary analyses that was required of you. Eyes drooping and almost falling asleep, you were startled by another person’s presence within the landing.

It was the single person on campus who you’ve been trying to avoid for the past weeks. It’s the only person who’s taking up a huge space in your mind when you aren’t distracted by your courseworks or classes.

Catching his breath, “y’know- this is a clear breach of building safety codes-” pants “you’re an illegal obstruction to this exit [name].” He stands before you all sweaty and still in his jersey and you couldn’t speak, dumbfounded as you figure out how he managed figure out your hiding place. You were almost successful in avoiding him completely but he just had to chase and look for you.

“W-what are you doing here??” He drops his duffel bag at the base of the next flight of stairs and sits beside you. “Why have you been avoiding me? You even had me blocked everywhere!” Always the straightforward one, he’d always speak his mind.

This was a confrontation you have been dreading to face — the reason why you had to change where you’d frequent these past weeks. Coming to terms with sleeping with a friend is one thing but having to unpack sleeping with a friend, letting him be your first when you know you have feelings for him is a whole other different conundrum.

You quickly closed your laptop and fumbled with placing your notebook inside your bag. But before you could even take a leave, he grabbed your laptop and hugged it against his side — one that was away from you. “Give it back Gojo-san.” You can see him frown and pout at what you said.

So it’s just Gojo now? Not Satoru? How cold. How cruel. You’re such a heartless woman. How could you have it in you to immediately leave seeing him? Did you hate him that much? Why were you being so indifferent when you used to smile and speak with him warmly?

“No, not when I know you’d leave once I do. Not when you haven’t answered my question.”

You bit your bottom lip, why is he making this so difficult? You still try to reach for your laptop so you can leave but he just keeps it out of your reach, until you just give up.

“Why does it matter? Can’t I simply be busy with my own life?” You say as calm as you could while avoiding his gaze.

“Of course you can. I just want to understand why. Didn’t… did… anything from that night mean anything to you?”

And there it is. You hoped to avoid this, truly. But since it fell on your lap out of nowhere, might as well face it right? “Did it mean anything to you?” The way you returned the question took him aback. Your voice was suddenly laced with indifference and he couldn’t place where that should go.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have initiated that if I didn’t want it to happen.” He tried to hold your hand but you refused his advances. “How can I trust your words Gojo?”

He’s reeling. He knows where this is going. At this moment he admits that he approached things out of order. He wasn’t able to shield you from the rumors surrounding him and his “dating” history. He shouldn’t have given in to his emotions and took advantage of your drunken vulnerability. “Is that what you think of me? Is that how you see me?” are the only things that come out his mouth. You can’t help but feel guilty when he said that.

It’s true. You believed that there’s some truth to what people say about him and, that, along with your naïveté is enough to make you an easy target for him. You let out a deep sigh.

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s forget things happened alright? We’re still friends anyway.” Lies. You knew damn well you can’t stay friends with him anymore.

“No. I don’t want us to be friends anymore.” And there it is. A man of his caliber that has an equally large ego wouldn’t take it lightly — the way you left that morning without him having to put a word in.

But it takes you by surprise when he goes down a step and squats in front of you so you’d meet eye to eye. “I want you to tell me how you really feel. I want you to tell me why you think I saw you just as a body count.”

“You’re so frustrating Goj-” “Satoru. Call me by my name.” That shut you up. Everything is confusing and frustrating and all you want to do is leave his overbearing presence and cry your frustrations out of his sight.

“Why are you doing this? I’ve already slept with you! Isn’t it like rule number 1 to forget and move on to the next!” He could feel your exasperation the moment you finally looked at him with teary eyes and he only gently stares right back at you with his blue ones.

“If this is just an ego trip because I left without a word then you can just tell people whatever you want that’s in your favor.” By now tears have started to fall and yet your eye contact remains. He gently thumbs the tears away, “Fuck. You’re killing me sweets. It’s not like that… I’m sorry… don’t cry.”

It’s weird. It’s unusual. It’s confusing. It’s making your heart beat rapidly and makes your chest feel like it’s going to burst. And the next words that come out his mouth was just the catalyst for your emotions.

“Listen, to me you’re not just a body count. I wouldn’t go out my way to memorize your schedule down to the last second. If you were just someone I wanted to fuck, I’d have done that at the party.”

His thumbs caresses the apples of your cheeks and a warm smile grazes his lips, “I did all that because I like you. I took interest in you, for you… I’m sorry for doing things out of order. You have to tell me now if everything I did matters so I know when to back-off.”

The proximity of your faces and the way he holds you like you’re fragile glass makes your heart beat faster than it is. You take off all your inhibitions, all the weight holding you down and connect both your foreheads. It’s a risk but you’ll take it. “I… I like you so much Gojo Satoru.” It doesn’t take him much effort to mesh your lips together in a soft, chaste kiss.

After a few seconds he breaks away and you completely feel his lips turning into a smirk against yours, “So, the status between us now is girlfriend and boyfriend huh?”

The memory is fond, as if it happened yesterday and not years ago. From there your relationship wasn’t always sunshines and rainbows but you made it work. You both held on to each other. Love is also sacrifice as much as it’s to be received. You realize that you’d go through all of that again as long as you get to stay with the only man you’ll ever love intensely.

With a newfound sense of rationality, you realize that whatever happens, you’d come back to Satoru. You need to talk things with him in a more peaceful and stable environment. You realize that the only way to fix this is to hit the train the first thing tomorrow morning and go home to your husband.

Tokyo mornings will always be hectic as the crowd bustles to arrive at their offices, schools or whatever they had to do that day. Even if you took the earliest shinkansen that you could catch, the Tokyo crowd will always be there.

As you ping the elevators down to the lobby, your palms started to sweat and your heart, hammering against your rib cage. But upon entering your shared penthouse, it’s unnervingly quiet and still. “I’m home.” — no answer.

Leaving the luggage by the door, you immediately patter into your home gym. Considering it’s as early as 9 AM, your husband is probably preoccupied with his workout. With an expectant smile on your face, you walk inside to see no one, not a single trace of movement. Not a single trace of Satoru.

If you were nervous on the elevator ride up, you’re feeling something similar yet different in your gut. Rushing back to your bags, you rummaged for your phone. Cursing out loud that you left it off for days, you quickly turn it on.

Moments later and your phone is flooded with many missed calls, messages and voicemails from Satoru.

Lover ♡ 78 missed calls

Lover ♡: baby, I’m off to work. I love you. Call me when you see this. (Tuesday 7:12 AM)

Lover ♡: ugh this meeting is such a bore. I’m so packed with board meetings this week sweets. Hope to see you at home. Miss you. Love u <3 (Wednesday 9:43 AM)

What you weren’t prepared for was 5 missed calls from his father’s secretary with messages requesting you to call back urgently, and Suguru Geto leaving 13 missed calls and a message that made your hands tremble and the phone to fall onto the marble floors.

Geto Suguru: [name], i don’t know where you are but please call me as soon as you see this. Satoru’s been rushed to the hospital. (Friday 12:34 PM)

Your knees follow as well, hitting the hard floors as you silently weep alone. You were in shock. How? What? Why? were the only things running your mind. “It’s not… true?” you try to make yourself believe as you run up to the second floor of the suite, to your bedroom. Your cheeky husband’s just running a prank on you and even got Suguru and his dad’s assistant on board.

“Toru? Baby?” You say as you see the bed still pristinely made, just as the cleaners would’ve left it last Friday. “Satoru, this is a very bad joke. Come out, I’m not mad I promise.” Tears keep streaming down your cheeks as you make yourself believe in denial. Sooner, you’d call his best friend to ask where he is.

Suguru didn’t need to ring the doorbell for you to open the door for him. He’d already asked you to text him the passcode. It was kinda foresight on his part that you’d be a crying, confused mess so he took the initiative.

And just as expected, he arrives to see you hiccuping and sobbing alone on the living room floor. He approaches you slowly, “Hey, [name]. I’m here.”

In his head, he thinks that this situation is royally fucked up. You’re an absolute mess and he’s also a mess. Everyone’s a fucking mess with Satoru lying almost lifeless in a hospital bed and with you who’s yet to find out the state your husband is in.

Quickly wiping you tears and composing yourself, you try your best to greet Suguru, albeit in between sobs. “O-oh, G-geto-san! I-uh didn’t notice you e-enter.” Seeing your state, he decides that you’d need a primer for the events that happened in your absence.

“Have you eaten? I can whip up a quick breakfast for you.” He says as he places his hands on your shoulders and ushers you towards the breakfast counter.

“I’m fine… I-I’m n-not really h-hungry,” you try to steady your breath and words. The man before you is unrelenting though, he’s already rummaging through the fridge and has had water boiling in the kettle.

“Y’know, I’m usually never this enthusiastic about breakfast but I’m starving!” He turns around with eggs and a few tomatoes in his hands, “would you be a peach and make us warm tea? I already started the kettle.” His warm grin and presence grounds you for a moment and wordlessly follow his request. The raven-haired man huffs a breath of relief seeing you open some of the drawers for tea bags and sweeteners.

A few moments later, as he tosses the eggs around the pan, you speak again. “Geto-san… Satoru… is he– um, he’s just working on weekends again isn’t he?” Your voice starts to shake as you steep both teas.

Perhaps there’s really no way he can tell his friend, his best friend’s wife, that her husband’s currently comatose for rushing home to catch her. The finishes off the eggs with a dash of salt and turned off the range.

“There’s no soft way I can break this to you [name]…” Only then did you have the courage to look into his eyes. “Satoru’s currently in a coma. He got into a terrible car accident.”

He’s gauging your reaction. He’s purposely omitted the fact that his best friend ran multiple red lights and sped beyond limits because he caught word of you coming home. It would break you, and blame your self as the reason he’s in a vegetative state. “No… N-no you’re kidding… this is just some silly prank he got you in.” You chuckle without a trace of humor.

The man in front of you wordlessly plates the eggs and stale bread. “C’mon, eat up. I’ll take you to him.”

Suguru was patient enough to help you clean up yourself as he helped you to the bathroom and even got you a fresh set of clothes on the bed. But the gravity of the truth only weighs on you as you sit in the passenger seat and the familiar city streets and the hospital comes into view.

While the elevator lifts you up, your palms start to sweat; as if mirroring the events this morning but with more melancholy than ever. The sterile scent of the hospital is making your stomach sick and all you want to do is throw up.

You never liked being inside the hospital. It serves as a reminder of sadness, grief and death. And right now as Suguru leads you toward the VIP ward, your hands start to tremble and your pace starts to slow down.

Before the raven-haired man opens the door, you quickly grab his wrist, “Geto-san, I-I can’t. I’ll come back when he’s better.” You turn to leave and he is quick to grab your arms to stop you.

“Hey, I know this is harder for you, more than anyone else, I’m the only one who understands that. But please, for Satoru,” he says with a squeeze to your arms. With tears brimming, you nod, and he let’s one hand go to slide the door open.

When Suguru thought that this was a royally fucked up situation, he never meant it to snowball into this royally fucked up situation.

The moment after he slid the door open and you entered the room, he’s met by Satoru’s mother. And upon seeing your presence behind him, the woman immediately reached for you to slap you square in the face “You have some gall to show up here!! You witch!! How dare you! How dare you come see my son when you’re the reason he’s here.”

It all happened so fast that Suguru couldn’t stop the older woman from her rage and protect you from her misplaced anger. But still, he comes between you and Mrs. Gojo, “Auntie, please… not in front of Satoru… not like this… please.”

By that, the older woman’s cold, hatred-filled gaze had befallen Geto. “And you! I’m disappointed! You’re his best friend, how could you bring the very woman that’s the cause of my son’s suffering!”

“I apologize for not informing you beforehand, but she’s his wife. I’m certain that Satoru would want his wife to be here if he were awake.”

Trying to make yourself smaller, you just stood there shaking and silently crying, not registering how the confrontation is going down. What did she mean that it’s all your fault? You were the cause of all this? What did you do.

You tried to peek a glance out of Suguru’s broad shoulders, only managing to see the foot end of Satoru’s bed and hearing the beeping of various monitors.

Satoru’s in a coma. Your husband, your lover, is in a partial deathbed because of… you. Bile and guilt rises up, so you did what any coward would’ve done: you ran out.

Hearing the door slide open, Geto quickly turns to look at you only to see you take off. He immediately calls your name and runs off to follow you, his pace increasing as he tries to catch you, and he does.

Before you were able to enter the elevator, a hand grabs your arm which you try to shrug off. “Geto-s-san let go.” The man doesn’t, he wraps you in his arms instead; and there you cry even harder.

Geto feels… sad for you. He couldn’t ever imagine the pain you’re in at this moment as you keep saying ‘I’m sorry’s over and over again, in between your sobs. The best he could do was offer you a hug and pats on your back as you cried hard.

Suguru was kind enough to lead you to the hospital’s roof top garden to take a seat. He just let you cry all your tears, only offering pats on your back and a shoulder to cry on. Sooner the sobs and hiccups die down. Geto stood to get something to drink from the vending machine.

It seems mundane to sit in silence with the cold lemon beverage in your hand. Except, nothing about this is normal. This is a hospital, your husband is here, unconscious and barely living, and it’s supposedly all your fault.

By now, no more tears are left to be cried, you’re just staring blankly as if a void has materialized in front of you. “Geto-san, what did she mean by that?”

The man swallows dryly, thinking of ways to ease the information to you. “Hmm… you mean Satoru’s mom?” He tries to play the nonchalant one but your lack of any reaction nor reply tells him that he should just lay everything out in the open.

“Investigations during the day of the crash points to you and him having a conflict… The police said that the circumstantial evidences lead them to believe that he was driving beyond city speed limits distracted.” There’s no reaction from you so he continues.

“The footage on the black box of his car showed that he was talking to someone in haste… That he was trying to call someone repeatedly… It all pointed to you when the call registry log they had retrieved showed 28 missed calls to your number.”

Your nails start to fidget along the rim of the unopened can. So it’s like that. Have you not shut off your phone then you wouldn’t be here in this shithole. Have you just stopped being selfish and texted him of your plans and whereabouts then none of these things would have happened.

A hand on your shoulder is enough to snap you out from your thought. Turning to Geto, you give him a sad smile, “I’m sorry… I know I’ve been saying that for the past hour… but she’s right…”

The canned drink is taken from you and Geto opens it. “You don’t have to believe that. None of this is your fault. Hell, you weren’t even the one driving that goddamn truck. It was all… just… bad timing.” Geto tries consoling you. It’s true. It’s called an accident for a reason. No one wanted it to happen in the first place. He gets up and you just look at the hand he’s offering.

“So come, let’s go see Satoru,” he says with a gentle smile. The way you looked down at the drink and sipped on it is so melancholic. Shaking your head, “His mom is probably still there… I should just head home… and come another day…”

The older man just clicks his tongue. “Y’know that shouldn’t stop you from seeing him? You’re literally his wife. Plus, I have a feeling she left the hospital already. When have my hunches ever been wrong?” You resign with a sigh, stood up, and threw away the half empty can.

Actually, as Geto got you a drink, he already texted Satoru’s father of what had happened. He hoped that it would be enough to take wife off the hospital premises so that you could see your husband.

To yours and Geto’s dismay, Mrs. Gojo didn’t leave just yet. However, she wasn’t alone. Her husband is also in the room when they got there. Seemingly, this quelled the older woman’s anger that she held for you. “Auntie, sir” Geto says and you join him as he offers them a bow.

You don’t look any of them in the eye. Well, it’s rather difficult and you do have shame. After all, this was mostly your doing that their son is in that state. What shocked you is Seishiro Gojo approaching you; who gave you a brief hug.

“Welcome home [name]. It’s a relief to see you back.” The older man’s voice is stern yet there’s softness underneath. He is the first to welcome you back ever since you stormed out of your home earlier this week, and gosh did it feel so comforting.

Among all the members of the Gojo clan, apart from Satoru, he treated you the nicest. You’d even say that he welcomed you as a daughter and not just an outsider to the family, even though that only happened after Satoru fought neck and neck with his whole family the day he proposed to you.

You didn’t know what to say to him so you expressed your gratitude and kept your head low once again. This earned a snide remark from his wife, “Tsk, there’s no point in this farce Shiro.”

“Enough of that nonsense, she is family as much as anyone else in the Gojo family, and we are not doing this in front of Satoru.” It ends at that. Though you know for a fact that Mrs. Gojo will never let it go, ever. Because that’s just the type of woman she is.

After all the not-so-pleasant pleasantries, you finally got to see Satoru as a whole. It pains you to see him hooked to multiple tubes that’s probably there to help him stay alive. He looks paler than he usually is. There’s multiple minor cuts on his cheek, his brows and his chin. His forehead covered by gauze, which you’re assuming he’s suffered a fatal blow to his head.

The sight made you tear up again. Slowly, you walk towards his bed and with shaky hands, you reach for him. His hand feels warm and you think that’s a good sign. “Hi Satoru, I’m home,” you whisper and a single tear streaks down your cheek.

It takes you a long moment to absorb the feeling of being near him again. At the end of the day, he’s your person as much as you’re his’.

“I’m home… so…” Your eyelids shut close as you try to anchor yourself in this reality. “Wake up baby… please…” you whisper desperately, clutching his free hand.

Geto suggested that you stay here for the night as Satoru’s watcher, to which Mr. Gojo had agreed with. His mom was adamant and quick to leave a snide remark but couldn’t really go against the final word of her husband.

Soon the older couple left. Geto stayed for a while to answer some of your questions and got you take out before going back to the penthouse to get you an exchange of clothes.

As you sat on a stool beside your husband’s sleeping form, you couldn’t help but remember the last time you saw him. He asked, no… he pleaded for you to stay. That’s what probably hurts you the most; he practically begged you to release your anger and pain by hurt him physically so you don’t need to leave. You’d never do it, but now you regret leaving. Fuck. Sleeping in the guest bedroom would’ve given you the solitude you sought that night!

“Satoru… I’m sorry. I’m so… so… sorry I left.” The tears didn’t come as you tried to hold it in. You don’t deserve to cry, not with your husband’s current status.

Geto returns with a gym bag full of your clothes. He’s met by your hunched sleeping form, hand still clutching Satoru’s. He leaves a note on the bedside table and drapes a thin blanket on your shoulders. He hopes that you can ride the wave and see it through. You’re strong, he’s sure.

Days passed. Weeks passed.

Unable to commit to a full time at the law firm, you turned in your resignation letter and hoped they can understand the situation you are in. Law school semester continued and you try to juggle it along with looking after Satoru.

It’s been a month since the accident and you’re barely functioning outside the hospital. Partly, the reason for resigning was because you wanted to lessen the time you spent away from Satoru. He can wake up at any moment and you need to be there when he does.

Anyone who knows of your situation would tell you that it’s difficult to balance classes and taking care of your sick husband. It is. But you’d endure this for another year if it means that there is always a chance for him to wake up.

Besides, you plan on finishing this last semester so you can focus more on him. It’s almost mid-sem so it’s just a few more weeks before it’s over.

Everyday you talk to Satoru about your day. Sometimes you narrate a case that was assigned as a reading material and tell him the process on how you dissect it clause by clause, paragraph by paragraph. It’s futile though. He’s unresponsive. But people always say they can hear us speak to them. It’s never too wrong to try.

Geto drops by weekly to check on both of you. He had suggested you write down your day on a notebook so that when he wakes up, he’d still get filled in on the things he’d missed. His mother often comes as well. You know because flowers are constantly changed and replenished. Albeit, you don’t see her as often. You think she comes in the day when you’re in class.

Some nights are just harder than the others, you’d often wake up by your phone’s alarm, nose dived into your books and laptop after you passed out from studying all night or breaking down as you try to get your readings done.

Day to day life since you came back has been on auto-pilot mode. It’s a cycle of rinse and repeat. You wake up, check on Satoru, attend class, go back, check on Satoru again, study… it just circles back. So it is not a surprise that you passed out on the way to one of the lecture hall your class was held in.

White popcorn ceilings were the first to register in your line of vision as you opened your eyes. You assume that you’re in the university’s infirmary. You lay there for a few more minutes before the cream curtains are slightly drawn.

“Oh you’re awake! I’m Nurse Minato, you’ve been brought here after you passed out in the hallway… do you remember that?” You simply nod.

She does some physical tests on you to see if you’re still coherent and asks you some questions on your lifestyle, which you all answered truthfully and concisely… except for your monthly cycle.

“Alright, how about your cycle? Notice anything unusual?” She asks, eyes planted on the clipboard and scribbling down things. You remain silent, forehead scrunched down. Things were too hectic for you that you never really noticed if you had it the past 2 and a half months.

“Um… I’ve been too stressed out lately so I haven’t really noticed. Do you have my bag? I have a tracking app.” The nurse pulls out a caddy from under your bed and hands you your bookbag.

Opening the app quickly, you see that your cycle prediction show that your period’s been delayed for around 73 days. Now it’s not always accurate, but 73 days is extreme.

“Uh… it says here that I’ve been delayed for 73 days.” With that she stops scribbling and slowly looks up to meet your eyes. She says nothing and gets up to grab something from the cabinet fixtures within the room.

“Are you sexually active?”

Then it dawns on you. It is highly possible. The last time you had sex with your husband was when he returned from an overseas business trip to France. That was 2 weeks prior to your heated argument.

“Not at the moment… but I…had last contact with my husband a few months back.” She simply hums and hands you a pregnancy test. “Restroom is at the back. Come back when you’re done okay?”

You stare at the box as if it’s done you wrong. The possibility of pregnancy is actually high considering that night, Satoru asked you to hit it raw until you agreed. You laugh humorlessly. What great timing! The one time you have sex without the condom and he’s able to plant one in you?

Setting a timer, you follow the box instructions and collect your pee sample. Each passing second was agitating and had you shifting your weight from one foot to another, arms hugging your torso. What then if it reads two pink lines?

The timer blares and echoes in the confined space of the restroom. The irony of it all is that the baby you and Satoru had argued awfully about will be here in a few months. Fuck.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo angst #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo saturo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n

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deadpool15 · 11 months

Text

Girl please

I'm walking around trying to gather all my shit. I can't ever find shit in this bitch. "Baby, if you can't come that absolutely fine. I just thought since you were in Korea, well, you know.." I turn around and stare at the phone. "Kirsten Dogen, you sit there and pass off a fake ass undertone with me again, and you are not getting those snacks you like when I pull up. Don't throw shade at me, young lady." I hear a bunch of laughs coming from the phone which I can't really identify, I guess those are the other girls she is doing the photoshoot with. Serves her right. I don't take the back talk. "Baby, really legal government names, that's how we gonna play it." She says with a pout on that God forsaken beautiful fucking face. But I realize to back down. "And did, what's your point."

"Also, your fav boots are in our closet, in my side, sweetie," When I heard those words, I turned around, and I almost got whiplash. "Why would MY boots be on your side, huh?" She stares at me sheepishly before trying to make it seem like someone is calling her, and quickly saying she had to go. I sit there in disbelief, "I know she did not just hang up on me. And proceeded to not answer my question at that. Girl literally just cut me off like I wasn't talking." After a while of absolute bullshit I finally decided to finish getting ready. It was pretty hot in Korea, so I went for some shorts and a crop. With my favorite boots, of course. I then decided to call up Yeonjun. Me and that man had been friends ever since his family decided to randomly pull up to California for a couple of years. I showed him around, and his mom used to joke about us being together. Then he came back to Korea and our parents thought it would be a good idea to send each other letters.

Our friendship has lasted for what felt like a lifetime, and I love that dude. Through Kirsten couldn't stand him. I felt like she had just never taken the time to give him a chance. Sure, Yeonjun was flirty sometimes, but that's just him as a person, and he knew when to back off. I would never hurt my wife, and sometimes, I felt like she didn't trust me. I mean, Yeonjun was literally my right hand at our wedding. Out there standing next to me prepared me for my life, cheering the loudest when we officially got married. It even got to the point where she shit talked him once and got angry at me. Like true enough, I love my wife, and I love my bestie, so I wanted them to get along. Hopefully, today works out. I had been signed to Hybe labels as an official choreographer, mainly working with newjeans because those are my girls, but I had worked with other groups as well. The public was quite familiar with me and our friendship, so it was never any dating rumors. Sure, people wanted us together, but that's their issue. I'm happily married.

Yeonjun had pulled up in his van. Opened the door before I hit him in the head. "Why are you always so aggressive all the time? There was literally no need for that hit, Cece." I just push him in the van before grabbing his face. Every time I go to America, I leave for a while. I had to take some other jobs that were literally amazing. Though when I come back, I always make it a habit of checking Yeonjun. Companies are known to starve their idols with fucked up so called diets and I refused to allow it to happen to my bestie. I mean, I almost beat a staff ass for suggesting my litter hyein needed to lose a couple of pounds. "You look good, just doing my family checks." He smiled at me, "I'm glad you care about my health so much, sis." We sat there in the car just catching up on all the shig we have missed in life. Before I told him we would be going to see Kirsten, he just smiled and said, "That's cool." Weridly enough he never had a issue with her, and never tried to say anything back when she insulted him stating she is your wife and you my little sister, I understand why she is jealous but I wouldn't disrespect you other half. My brother is just too amazing. Sometimes, I feel like he read that shit from a magazine.

We pulled up the building, seeing workers running around and losing their minds, trying to make sure everything was perfect. As I walked inside, I heard a scream typical, it what I get for being koreas number it boy with me. Yeonjun just smiles and embraces all the attention. He has also been a suckered for the spotlight. While he is doing that, I tell him I'll go in the back to find Kirsten. I walk away, thankfully, running into Funky Y and greeting her, of course. She is all smiles and asking me all these questions before I cut the conversation short and ask about Kristen. "She is in the back with makeup." I nod and thank her before making my way back there. Seeing her getting all dolled up dripped down in Calvin Klein for the shoot, "Well, look at you." Hearing my voice, she immediately turns around before jumping up to hug me. "Omg, you're finally here. I thought you were made at me about the boot thing. I just wore them at the beginning of the show, to like reveal us. So it technically wasn't that long." I brush her hair out of her face, taking a goof look at her. "I don't care that you wore them, I care that you hung up on me while we were still talking. Don't think I forgot about that. And there shall be punishments in order, baby." I smirk once I see her scared face before kissing her head, trying not to mess up her makeup.

"Guys, it took me forever to find you. It's like a lot of rooms in here. Hi, Kirsten. You look great. What's the shoot for?" Yeonjun asks while running in her out of breath, I turn and laugh at him before turning back to her and see her face. "It's Calvin Klein, pretty obvious to anyone with a brain." She states with a look of pure annoyance while staring at him. Then whispered in my ear why you had to bring him. I grip her arm as a warning, while yeonjun asks us if we want anything to drink, I tell him I'll have an apple juice before Kirsten says nothing from you. "OK, fucking stop it. I try my very best not to take sides because I care about both of you and want you to equally get along. But this shit ends now," I see her face try to turn into a pout before I squeeze her side, letting her know I'm not dealing with the fake shit. "No more animosity or any of that shit, got it." They both look at each other before Yeonjun randomly hugs us both. "I don't have a problem with you, Kirsten. If anything, I'm glad that my litter sister was able to find you, though I'm sorry for whatever I did to make you feel angry. I look over to her, stating it's her turn, and she sighs, "You didn't really do anything, it's just you two are so close, and I know you don't like her like that. But I told myself that if I hated you, it would be easier. Which is a really hard thing to do since you are so happy and bright. I was insecure, and I took it out of you, but then I realized you two are just like siblings, and I felt stupid and thought it was all in my head."

Yeonjun hugs us closer before saying he will give us a minute while patting Kirsten on the back. "Baby, your thoughts are never stupid, and if you feel so strongly, you come and talk to me. We are a team, and till death, do us part remember." She smiles while hugging me tighter and kissing all over my face. "It's ok, I'll try my best to make it up, Yeonjun, for all the shit I put him through. I know he is a nice guy." I just rock her from side to side while listening. "That's amazing, baby, and don't think I forgot about your punishment from earlier. You are in for it when we get home, baby." I tell her while gripping her ass.

Request by @kirsmyonlyone

#street woman fighter 2 #swf2 #street woman fighter x reader #Kristen Dogen #kristen dogen x reader

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tinyfishtits · 3 months

Note

Sup bro, fartsnifferpro here.

I really love your fics and u said it was ok to make requests so I really hope I'm not bothering.. I usually have several ideas for fanfics but I don't trust my writing enough to put them into practice and laziness usually gets in the way. I was thinking about something related to a Micah Bell dating a reader very, but VERY emotional, like crying very easily (me). I really don't care the way you will write this (like headcanons, fanfic, whatever) I'll will love it anyway your writing is amazing.

(IF YOU DONT WANT TO ITS OKAY)

Hehe welcome to the blog Fartsnifferpro! I most definitely DO want to write a sad reader fic !! You caught me at a very melancholy time so this was pretty cathartic to write tbh. I hope you like it ❣️

The small stable in this god forsaken camp had quickly become my favorite place. Being around all those people, sick, sad, broken… It was tearing me apart. I hadn’t been with them for very long, had only just gotten to know those that we lost only days ago. Jenny, Davey, Mac…

I felt like I had no right to mourn them, not when the others were so devastated by the loss. Not with John still missing and Abigail worried sick. Or the heartbreaking cries of the widow we picked up just yesterday cutting through even the most violent howling winds of the blizzard that hounded our crude shelters.

So, just as I had the last two nights, I spent my evening tending to the horses while the others huddled for warmth in the decrepit cabins across camp. It was barely any warmer in the stable than it was out in the snow but I'd been so numb the past few days the cold barely registered anymore. I was brushing Baylock, humming some old lullaby I'd long forgotten the words to, when the doors of the stable swung open.

“Well ain’t you a sight for sore eyes…” a familiar gravelly voice said behind me. I didn’t have time to put my brush down before Micah’s arms were around my waist, his wind chilled face nuzzling into my neck as he kissed me, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine as he spoke, “Why you out here?”

I turned in his grasp to snake my hands beneath the thick leather jacket he wore and wrap my arms around his back, snuggling into his warmth.

“Goddamn darlin’ you’re freezing.” His body shuttered against my cold touch. Pulling me tighter against him, his strong hands began rubbing my back in an attempt to warm me up. “Shit, how long you been out here?”

“I don’t know…” I murmured against his shoulder, squeezing him tighter.

“I would have come found ya sooner,” He sighed, “Dutch’s been talkin’ our ears off about… well, it don’t matter.” He let out a low hum, peppering gentle kisses atop my head.

His comforting hold, his soft voice, the sweet, feather light kisses… It broke something open in me that I'd been pushing down since we fled here. A muffled cry escaped my lips as I buried my head into the crook of his neck. Micah froze at the sound. When the cries didn’t stop, his grip on me tightened.

“What- what is it? What’s wrong?” His tender, soothing voice just fueled whatever pain had broken free inside me. I collapsed against him. Unable to speak, barely able to breath as I choked up sob after pained sob, gripping onto him so tightly my muscles ached.

“Hey… Hey, shhh” He hushed, whispered curses escaping his lips as I shook in his arms. I knew he wasn’t used to comforting people, that emotional outbursts of any kind weren't a part of his wheelhouse. In all the time we’d been together I’d purposefully hid my breakdowns from him… afraid he’d see me as weak.

“I- I’m sorry…” I finally choked out, knowing I was putting him in an uncomfortable position.

“Don't apologize, darlin'. You got nothin’ to be sorry for…” He whispered into my ear. His sweet words just cracked me open even deeper. A hand came up to gently rake through my hair as he continued to shush me like a frightened horse. Which, I realized, was probably the only living thing he’d ever attempted to comfort until now.

“Just let it out honey, I gotcha.” He said, his grip on me tightening.

“I can't take being stuck up here Micah…” I admitted, the words finally spilling out of me, “It- it's suffocating me… And I'm not asking you to do anything about it. I know it's just how things are with the damn storm and the money... I just…” I trailed off, my breath still stuttering with sobs.

He let out a long sigh, pulling away from my grip on him just enough to cradle my face in his hands. His bright blue eyes met mine, a foreign, aching sadness welling up in them as he examined me.

“I know…” He finally said, stroking the streaming tears away from my cheeks. The pained look he gave me had my eyes welling up once more, cursing under his breath he pulled me back into his embrace. Holding my head in his hand he kept me pressed firmly against his chest, like he was afraid I'd break into pieces if he let go. “God darlin’ I- I hate seein’ you like this.”

His deep voice rumbling against my ear was like music. I hugged him tighter, feeling every breath, listening to it whoosh through him like wind. “Can you… talk.” I murmured into his chest, “About anything… just, talk to me”

“Um… Sure.” He said, though he went quiet for a long moment as he thought of what to say. “My… My momma used to tell me this story, about a boar… If you wanna hear it.” I hummed in acknowledgement, waiting for him to continue.

“It was a menace, darlin’, this boar. A real nasty fucker. Killed livestock, ripped up crops, tore people apart… The whole country feared the damn thing. The king offered up his own daughter as the reward for the man who killed it.”

“So these two brothers decided hell, they had nothin' to lose and gave it a try. The older one, a cocky bastard, spent the first day of the hunt getting piss drunk. Figuring his brother didn’t stand a chance.” He ran his hands through my hair, idly twisting strands around his fingers as he got lost in the retelling.

“That night, his little brother came out of the forest with the beast on his back. Fuckin’ furious, he walked up and shot him dead. Took the boar for himself and brought it back to the king. Told everyone the boar had killed his brother, tore him up and ate the pieces. And they believed him, ‘cause that boar was a menace.” His whispered words were fierce in my ear, he'd always been such a good storyteller. My sobs had ceased by now, my breathing settling into a calm rhythm as I listened intently.

“He married the king's daughter the next day. Had a huge party outside the castle to celebrate. Even had the boar roasting on a spit for the feast. They was so drunk and happy, the whole place filled with music.” He hummed in my ear, taking my hand in his and swaying us softly to the tune.

“Until a boar, one twice the size of the one the brother had killed, went chargin' for the king's daughter!" He said with a roar, gripping me closer into his chest as if he were the beast coming to devour me. I couldn't help but giggle at his theatrical retelling.

"It ripped her apart while everyone watched...." He bit playfully at my neck in emphasis, coaxing a surprised yelp out of me. Though he didn't miss a beat.

"The brother, the damn coward, ran off, back to the castle. Let the boar feast on everyone that had come to celebrate his wedding. Let it tear up the fields, rip through the livestock. Until there was nothin' left…” he drifted off into silence, kissing softly at the spot at my neck where he'd bitten. I waited for some happy resolution but it never came.

“Your momma told you that story?” I asked, a shocked laugh escaping my lips at the gorey tale I could only presume he heard as a small child. His chest vibrated with a deep laugh of his own, “What, not the bedtime story you were expecting?” He raised my chin to look at him, his expression softened now that my tears had stopped.

“What happened to the brother?” I asked. Micah shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “Died alone in that castle with piles of money to wipe his ass with, probably.”

I laughed, "What made ya think of that story?"

Humming in thought he said, "I don't know... always found it funny." "Funny?" I said, incredulous.

"Well you laughed, didn't ya!"

"At you, ya big weirdo..." I said, playfully hitting him on the chest. My sorrows and worries forgotten as I looked up at him, a beaming smile on his face.

His thumb brushed over my chin as he pulled me up to place a soft kiss to my lips. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I held him close, keeping his lips on mine as we melted into each other with palpable relief. As if all the tension, guilt and grief that had weighed me down the past few days just needed his warm breath to be set free, evaporating around us now lighter than air.

With his strong arms hooked around my waist Micah picked me up. His mouth never left mine as he carried me out of the stable, intent on keeping me warm and in his arms for the rest of the night.

If you liked this, check out my other Micah works!

★ My Masterlist ★

#oh no #I think hurt/comfort might be my new favorite thing #oopsy #Did I get carried away with the boar story?#um #maybe #micah bell #micah bell fic #micah bell x reader #red dead redemption 2 #fish reqs

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magicalqueennightmare · 8 months

Text

It Works

(Not my gif)

(Eventual) Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

When Kol tells you of a conversation he overheard you go to confront Elijah.

Never once in your life had you ever been accused of being the smartest person on the block. You were hot headed, impulsive and stubborn. You acted before you thought half of the time and this was one of those moments you could practically hear every person you knew groaning about your temper as you stormed into the doors of the Mikaelson compound.

Klaus was the first to the door, no doubt having been closest and expected a threat from the fact that you didn't knock and the door had slammed against the wall when you walked in. “Hello Love. To what do we owe the pleasure”

You stopped a few feet from him and crossed your arms over your chest. “Is what Kol said true?” A smirk slipped onto his face “You'll have to excuse my confusion. Kol says a lot of things” you waved a hand around “That Elijah frickin tracked me down on a hunt! To what end? He watched me take on two okami, didn't help and just left me there without another word!”

You weren't sure how to react when Klaus honest to god laughed. When you looked at him like he'd grown a second head he shrugged one shoulder,his face sobering a bit. He spoke your name almost proudly, you raised an eyebrow and he was the one to motion around the room “You come storming in here, alone and angry enough to not make anyone aware of your presence beforehand which is dangerous enough then you don't blink an eye demanding answers of me. I can see why my brother fancies you”

“Cut the shit Klaus. You know I care about Rebekah. She's my friend, vampire or not she is, but I'm not a fucking pet for you Mikaelsons. I'm not something to amuse any of you. I need to know what Elijah's game is. Why follow me? Why not even tell me he was there? Why does he insist on barely speaking to me as if my mere presence is overwhelming despite the fact that he sought me out to go to the ball, despite the fact that he always manages to know wherever I am in this God forsaken city I moved to”

Klaus took a step towards you and when you didn't give any ground he smiled “I can't speak for him. He should be here any time and I will gladly stay for the spectacle of you confronting him but know I myself don't see you as a pet, amusing yes but simply because of that rage you carry. You would make a marvelous vampire” he smiled widely letting his fangs slip out just a bit “and an even better hybrid”

You shook your head “put the fangs away Klaus. I wouldn't let you near my neck under the best of circumstances” he grinned “Now that is a shame indeed” You shook your head despite the anger you'd been feeling moments before and wondered briefly if Klaus had found a way around your tattoo or maybe you'd just needed to get things off your chest and the temper mental hybrid had just been the one who got the blunt of it.

—---------

You heard footsteps and knew it was Elijah even before he walked cautiously through the still open door. He greeted you then Klaus before looking between the two of you “Did I interrupt something?”

Klaus held your gaze almost as if in a challenge. Damn him he was enjoying this, little brothers always loved having a leg up on their older brothers you guessed regardless of age or species.

You fully turned to face Elijah and froze. Since the moment you met him Elijah wore suits. Well tailored suits that would make your knees weak but damn him the man was now wearing a dark gray henley under a fitted jacket and black jeans. The slight smirk that slipped onto his face at your attention only made things worse.

You were supposed to be angry, a bit betrayed even but every thought slipped out of your mind. Those brown eyes held you in place and for a moment you had trouble remembering what had brought you to the Mikaelson home to begin with until Klaus slung an arm around your shoulders “We would like to know why you tracked her down on a hunt!”

The smirk quickly slipped from Elijah's face “I told Rebekah Kol was eavesdropping” your eyes widened at his words “REBEKAH KNEW?”

Klaus still had his arm over your shoulders and you could hear him tsk tsk “Brother, keeping secrets from her and from me I see” a flash of anger went through Elijah's eyes “Niklaus, can you allow us a few moments alone to speak?”

“If she asks me to” you turned your head just enough to look at Klaus “Please” he nodded “Very well love. Just holler if I'm needed”

—---------

You watched Klaus walk out of the room and then turned back to Elijah “Care to explain? Because right now? I want to know why you tracked me down, watched me take on two okami solo mind you then didn't even tell me you were there?”

You did your best to push down the attraction you felt for Elijah and instead to pull up that anger you'd thrown at Klaus. “Perhaps I wanted to ensure you weren't dead” you crossed your arms “Bullshit. I was only gone for a few days. Tell me the truth Elijah”

He walked towards you and for a moment you considered backing up but a big part of you refused to humor that thought. You wouldn't give ground to Klaus or Elijah. Yeah they could very well kill you and now with the initial humiliation driven anger fading the reality of this being the first time you'd been to the Mikaelson compound alone and the first time you'd been alone around Elijah drove home.

“I was unsure if you could handle what your job entails. Yes I did not intervene because as Rebekah has said that is your life and your decision to be a hunter. I just had to see for myself if you could truly handle being intertwined with this family” What happened to Klaus saying Elijah fancied you? Was that Klaus lying or was this Elijah lying? You nodded slowly “So it was what? To ensure I wasn't a safety threat to the Mikaelsons? Little human me?”

You could see the mask fall back into place. Every time you got close to figuring Elijah out that mask would fall. You'd heard stories from Rebekah of their mother's wrong doings and a certain red door. You should be afraid of him yet you weren't. He gave a small nod so you smiled humorlessly “Good to know”

—--------

You decided at that moment if he wanted to pull a mask down so could you. You had years worth of practice hiding your emotions under layers of sass and vague threats. You may not have the years he did but you had always been quick to think on your toes so you plastered the closest thing to a real smile you could muster before saying “And you also now know I can hold my own against supernatural beings so even better”

He chuckled lightly “That I do. I must admit I was impressed” you bowed your head mockingly “Here's hoping I never have to go toe to toe with you however if you're ever up for sparring it may be fun” a grin spread across his face but before he could say anything else your phone started ringing. You dug it out of your jacket pocket and saw Alicia's name “I've got to take this. Tell Klaus I said bye and tell Bek I'll see her later”

The next few weeks passed with a repertoire forming between you and Elijah. Light flirting, lots of sarcasm and some veiled threats abounded. It worked because it made your attraction to him less awkward and took away a source of amusement for Klaus.

You had found balance in your life. Between hunting and your friends in that world and being close with the Mikaelsons. It worked so why question it?

Why

#elijah mikaelson fanfiction #elijah mikaelson x y/n #elijah mikaelson fic #elijah mikaelson x reader #the originals fanfiction

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dalamjisung · 10 months

Text

feel something ❁ lee minho

genre: p u r e a n g s t

word count: 5835

pairing: reader x lee minho

description: he was a habit that was just too hard to break, but you did it. two years ago, you broke the vicious cycle that was him... until he came back.

[to be read as a continuation of Habits of My Heart, but can also work as a stand alone!]

You are in his apartment.

How the fuck did you end up in his apartment?

And is that– yes, that’s his arm, laying heavy on your naked waist.

Fuck, is all you can think, raising your head from the oh so soft pillow while blinking your tired eyes awake. This is not how you planned to spend your holiday, but alas, there you are. Under his soft, striped sheets that, moments ago, you held onto for dear life as you moaned his name so prettily. That, you are sure, is something he would love to talk about once he is up, and that is why you start stirring, slowly moving despite the anxiety rising up your throat having you ready to run. It’s still quite dark, the cold, winter days taking their time with sunrise, but you could see enough with the dewy shine coming in through the sheer curtains. Your underwear is thrown by the end of the bed, and somehow, you still manage enough strength in your legs to drag it up to where you can reach with your hands. Unfortunately, your body is trapped under his weight, half on top of you and half taking every little free space available, and you can’t really move too abruptly or else he’ll wake up and you’ll be forced to face a reality you’re not quite ready to.

You’ll be forced to face Lee Minho.

“Oh come Y/N, are you really back on that dating app?” Sam asks, laughing her guts out over the cup of coffee that has long gone cold. “You didn’t even last the month!”

And she is right– last time you deleted that god forsaken app was three weeks ago, with the promise of taking a break while things at work started to pick up. Cue to now, 21 days later and counting, and you are back on it, swiping left and right whenever you feel the odd tingle of boredom creeping in. It’s an easy distraction, is what you always say; the amount of men in that app giving you a bit of a power high at the opportunity for choice, but the conversations bringing you way back down to the sad reality of the dating world. In between ghosting people and being ghosted, finding ‘the perfect match’ is impossible. For those that claim that they found true love on such places, you simple smile and nod– there is no point in debating your beliefs on modern if they are living their own happy ending. All you can do then is bubble a little in your jealousy, pretending is not big deal.

“Let me see your profile,” Sam is one of your closest friends, and definitely your biggest enabler. “Are you still using that photo of you I like? The one in the red shirt with– yes, you are, amazing.” Her feedback is overall positive, from the pictures, to the prompts, to the profiles of the people you matched with. “Oh! Miss dating app has 23 new likes! Let’s check them out, I’ll swipe– no. No, no, no, no way… right? No way!”

You are not sure what she’s talking about until you catch a glimpse of your phone in her hand. And there he is, that same photo you had swiped right on two years ago. Black and white– a dramatic flair, you’re sure– with him in the centre, smirking in a way that it seems almost taunting. It’s like he hasn’t changed at all, like time stopped when it came to him, and you can’t help but gasp in shock. Your hands are trembling when you grab the phone from your friend, bringing it closer to you in a way that very much so said you didn’t believe your eyes. “Holy shit.”

Two years. “Holy fucking shit.”

Two years without talking to each other. Without seeing each other. Without texting. “Holy shit, it’s Lee Minho.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” You mutter like a crazy woman, and it gets on his nerves. It would get on his nerves, that is, if he was awake. Minho likes to tease you; he likes to push you away only to make the pull that much more appealing. And you fall for it, every single time, no matter how many times before you promise you won’t.

The routine is the same, as if you two are following a script. You get to his place– he never have and never will step foot into you apartment– and you text him. It feels oddly detached to ring his doorbell and announce your arrival, so a message is more than enough. The first thing he does is basically roast you for being unable to open his door, and really, who is he kidding? That old thing is so stuck in place you’re a bit surprised he’s able to have guests over. You try to tell him so, but he just clicks his tongue in that condescending way that makes your eyes roll as you follow him inside.

As always, the apartment is impeccable. He might be many things, really, with annoying being one of them, but the man is neat. The floor is clean, the lighting is perfect, the music in the background washes over you like calming waves trying to still your racing heart. Minho has this power over you, making you nervous in a way that no other man ever has, even if this is not your first encounter… by far. But you don’t show. Actually, you refuse to show, purposefully acting a bit too nonchalant about being there at all, loving how you can see it ticking him off by the second.

But before that– before the flirting, before the fucking, before the sneaking around with your underwear in your hands, there was the game. And boy, did you hate playing that fucking game.

Hey :D

What do you want, Minho?

What do I want?

I don’t know! I have a lot of things to say sorry for! :)

So… sorry! I acted like an immature dick back then.

I had other reasons to behave the way I did, but I don’t want to use them as excuses and just wanted to apologize

Apologize? You want to apologize after two years… on a dating app?

Well, okay… Uh, thank you, I guess? You did act like an immature asshole and I appreciate your apology.

But you do have my number, so I’m a bit confused as to why you just didn’t text me?

I do have your number, but… sometimes all we need is a push, you know?

I got this app yesterday and you were literally the third profile that showed up. Seeing your face again felt like a punch to the gut haha

And I thought I’d just say that if I could go back and do it all over again, I’d be better. For you. You were never anything but nice and understanding, and I should’ve treated you better.

So if you ever feel like… trying again… I’d love to give it a shot.

Are you serious, right now?

With all due respect, Minho, you gave me no reason to want to try and give it a shot. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the apology and I hope you are good and happy, but there is no way in hell that I’d ‘try again.’

Just thinking of the messages has you cringing. It was probably the stupidest thing you’ve convinced yourself of– the fact that you wouldn’t fall for his pretty words. It’s like he has a way with them that truly makes you wonder if he’s in the wrong profession. You tell him that, too, saying he should have been a poet or a fiction writer; the pictures he paints to you with his words do look better in your head, after all.

It takes him five days to get into your head… by literally doing nothing. After the conversation dies, with many more attempts of ‘let’s try again’ and empty ‘I miss you’s, you feel like you’re on a runner’s high. You feel like you’re on top, like you’re the winner of this stupid game you two always end up playing. But then he doesn’t text again. No ‘good morning’ or ‘how are you?’. No ‘thinking of you’ and definitely no begging for you wonderful, amazing presence to be back in his life. Now, it’s a little foolish to believe he’d ever do any of those– not even when you two were actually dating, two years ago, did he do that, so why now? What’s different now?

Well, to start, you. You are different, and he knows it. You’re grown now, more mature than you were. You are smarter, too, despite falling for the same words you feel for before. And now, you want different things too– no more silly ideas of a perfect relationship; no more giving your heart away in a whim, no more letting him handle you like a little stupid toy, no more wanting to call him when things get tough. All you want now– more like all you need, really– is some relief. Things have been hard… and that is putting it lightly. Work is hell, the winter is harsh, and life is just… a mess. So yes, safe to say you are desperate for some sort of soothing relief, looking to ease that growing tension on your shoulders.

Hence the dating app.

Going on dates is harder than you remember, when you begin again, but you simply amount the exhaustion to work and push yourself to get past your door, and out onto the street. It’s like you have a schedule for your free time as well as one for work– Hyojoon Friday night at the bar, Juyeon Saturday afternoon for lunch, Mark Sunday evening for an early dinner, and the list goes on and on and on. A few are first dates only– actually most of them are– but the ones that make it to a second or even a third date remain as that. A second or a third. As bad as it is to say, none seem to excite you as much as Minho did. Some are boring, and those are, oddly enough, the ones you try to stick to the most. If they are boring, you think, they won’t surprise you with any hurtful realisations of how you are not enough, or how they are better alone, or how they ‘can have some fun, but otherwise, just don’t have time.’

And it’s one of these boring ones, the ones you want to work so badly, that is the last drop in your very, very full bucket.

“And what do you think of climate change?”

You try so badly to ignore the itch in your hand, making you want to grab your phone and check that useless app again. You have your notifications off as a way to not allow an obsessions to arise but it’s futile and, honestly, quite naive to believe you’re not going to overthink every little thing that man said; and so you check, again and again, to make sure you don’t miss a message you know it’s not coming. It has been two days since he sent you anything and yet, you still check, and check, and check. The funny thing is that you meet Jeongin on the same app that Minho reached you on, but unlike Minho, your first date with Jeongin is one that you count the seconds to end.

“Climate change?” You repeat, eyes wide a bit in surprise. There is a smile on your lips, stiff and so well trained that, at this point, you don’t think it’s even believable. “I worry about it, of course.”

“But you eat meat?” He asks. The glint in his eyes tell you that he finds amusement in caging you against a wall. “That’s not very environmentally conscious.”

“No, I suppose it’s not.”

The close-lipped smile and the way your eyes discreetly check your wrist watch should have been enough, but he still manages to drag you to a coffee shop, running from the rain that poured all over you two as you marched out of the park. Tomorrow is a Monday and you have a presentation to prepare for, but still, he ignores you. And talks, and talks, and talks. By the time you make it home, you barely have any energy left to re-read your slides before passing out in the couch.

Date two isn’t much better, but at least it is a nice day and there are some musicians out playing in the park to keep you entertained as you two sit in complete silence. He’s not a chatty one, and you’re kind of tired of putting so much effort in and getting nothing back, so when you get home after that, you promise to not go out with him again. It’s a bit of an ego trip, how much he tries to contact you for a date you’ll know he’ll silently through, but you keep up with your dedication to your peace of mind. It’s not that deep, once you think about it. All this guy knows about you is the basic stuff– what you work with and how busy it keeps you. You take ages to respond to his message, and yet he still tries, and, at one point, he tries too hard.

It’s more the joke he makes than anything. You are mid report writing when you get a notification about an Instagram account trying to send you a message.

Hey Y/N, found you.

Who is this?

Kai!

Oh! Hi :) hahah how did you find me?

Took me hours lol

After that you just tell him that you’re not really ready to date and that you’re too busy, but it was lovely meeting him. After that, you get scared, and tired, and defeated. It’s like no matter what you did, you still couldn’t feel safe. No matter how many times you went out with them, how many chats over coffee you had, how many slightly intrusive questions you asked… it was never enough. It was still strange and new and unfamiliar and, quite sadly, unsafe. The slight touches have you flinching and the hungry looks make your curl inwards. Dating is hard for you, mainly because you’re not adventurous or fearless, quite the contrary– you are very, and with all the right, paranoid.

So when you text Minho, on your way home, regretting every words typed, you know that despite breaking your heart and acting like a class A idiot, he is, and will always be, familiar.

Familiar. Yes, Minho was familiar— everything about this situation was fucking familiar. The way that you hurriedly got dressed, the way that you walked on your tippy toes in hopes to make less noise, the way that, when you did make noise, you flinched, looking at the door in panic. Waking him up is not an option. Throughout the night, multiple times he tells you about how busy he is; how he has to write a speech for work, and how he has to present in front of a very important crowd, and how he is oh so nervous to do what he always does. And multiple times through the night, you nod and smile and say that ‘everything will be okay’, even if you don’t quite know what you are nodding and smiling about.

Is it because you’re there with him? No, that’s not it. There was a time Minho made you happy; a time in which the aftertaste of him lingered in your lips and you smiled, wide and unabashedly, every time your tongue poked out to lick your lips. A time in which the smell of his cologne that clung to your sweater would make you blush at the memories of limbs intertwined on the couch and whispered words floating in the air. Yes, there was a time in which Lee Minho made you happy. But that time is now long gone.

“Why are you here, then?”

And isn’t that the question of the hour? Why are you there? On his couch, laughing with a cup of wine in hand, retorting every little quip he throws your way. There are quite a lot of them– Minho is a man that likes being right, he likes being on top… in all facets of life. Winning, for him, is extremely important, and you wonder just how much he’s willing to sacrifice for that first place position in a competition with no one else but himself.

Actually, you know how much he’s willing to sacrifice. You know it very well. “I was bored,” You shrug, taking a sip of your glass. “And horny.” It’s no secret why you’re there. Or at least, it shouldn’t be. You know he’s trying to get a rise out of you, as he always does– something about how cute you look when you’re all flustered and annoyed– and you wonder if he knows how cuter you can get when you’re excited and driven. You wonder if he knows how much you can talk about something you love, instead of having to talk about something irrelevant. You wonder if he knows you at all and it’s quite depressing to even question that, chuckling to yourself at the thought.

Of course he doesn’t.

In some odd self-defense against yourself, trying to ease the admonishing conscientious voice in your head, you tell yourself that his laughter is nice. It’s quite loud and free and his shoulder wiggle in amusement, and you like when he laughs. The same way you like when Sam laughs, or when your flatmate laughs, or when your work teammate laughs… the same way you like when anyone you care for or about laughs. And this is not news to you, you’ve always known you care for Minho. His opinion matters to you, and his words, as fake as they can be, still get to you. You might be blinded by youthful impulses and thoughts of immediate satisfaction, but you are definitely not an idiot– you see reality, but you wilfully ignore it for a few hours or so. Minho allows you to do that, and it’s quite a relief to allow yourself to do it, too.

The moment he sits next to you is impactful. The air stills, and it’s more out of expectation than anything else– will he make a move now? Later? There is no dance in between the two of you, as ironic as that sounds, but more of a game of who can surprise who. He enjoys the moment he touches you first, you know he does; it’s the smirk on his lips that gives him away. He adores tugging you closer, even if it ends up with you two crampled up in awkward positions on his couch. And he lives for the moment of the first kiss of the night.

It starts like it always does– a simple touch of lips, a bit of space for reassurance, because Minho is many things, but he is not forceful; and then the lunge. You smile everytime he does it and maybe you’re at fault for how smug he looks about it, but it doesn’t really matter. You like the lunge, you love it, even; it appeals to something inside of you, a need to be needed, to be wanted, that has you putty in his hands with one single move.

There is time.

You convince yourself that you still have time, and that maybe rushing around the empty apartment at 7 in the morning is not needed. Minho sleeps like a log, and unless you break something, he’s not waking up. And even if you break something, he might not wake up… or he might just not care. The later hurts a little, but you’re used to being hurt by him and you accept that you have no one else to blame but yourself… after all, you’re the one that told him you wanted something like this– casual, noncommital, stress free.

All in all, the plan is supposed to be fail proof. It’s that youthful impulsive behaviour, you see, and you are quite embarrassed to admit it, but you are not, in your core, a casual person. You are not noncommital and stress free. If anything, you are probably the most commital and stressed person you know, dedicating a full 110% of yourself to everything you do. It’s why you are always so tired, so burnt out… it’s why you avoid, with everything you have, debates and discussions. You just don’t have the energy to do all that anymore. You are still young, but you’re not stupid, anymore, and that’s what changed.

Sitting on the couch as you pull your sweater down, you sigh. “What the fuck am I doing?” It’s laughable, the amount of times you sat on that couch and asked yourself that exact question. Your friends don’t even want to hear about this anymore; they get annoyed, with you, with the situation, with him, and it’s always the same. 'You’re too good for him' or 'he doesn’t deserve you.' They are not wrong, but there’s only so many times you can try to tell them that you know that. You know; you know better than they ever will, and as much as you embrace their annoyance as love, you’re annoyed too. You want to vent too. You want to laugh about stupid shit Minho does too. You want to make all the mistakes you just weren’t allowed to make when you were supposed to make them, and he is definitely one of them. You want to not have to think about everything al the time, to be right all the time, to make the smart choice all the time. You want to simply not think all the time, and better than anyone else, Minho lets you not do that.

“Arms up.”

It is easy to ignore the bossy tone of his voice when his mouth is working on your neck, kissing, licking, biting. It feels good– it always feels good and, sometimes, it feels too good. Right now, however, it just… feels good. Feels peaceful and serene. It’s like time doesn’t matter when you’re kissing him, like all you have to do is follow his lead and not think and you love that. You love that feeling, even if you don’t love him. “Good girl,” He whispers, smiling as he pulls your sweater over your head.

It’s cold outside. Really cold, actually, and you shiver the moment the air hits your skin, goosebumps littering your arms as you shiver. Minho is on it, though, warm hands touching you all over, spreading a path of fire through your back and stomach and arms and breasts. “Cold?” He asks, and it’s a stupid questions, but it makes you giggle. These are the moments that are okay to pretend… okay to pretend he cares, with his hands tracing patterns all over until your bra goes missing, your pants are open, and his fingers are slowly brushing against your wet underwear. With his voice, mellow and soft, whispering sweet nothings and everythings against your ear, calling you all the names he knows you like to hear. With his restrain, cock hard against his jeans but not rushing or pushing until he knows you’re good and ready for him.

The thing about his house is that, as much as his living room is this sea of mood lighting and comfort, his windows run from the floor to the ceiling. You dream of the day you’d be brave enough to fuck him right there, on the same couch you two always start but never end– but right across the street is a bar, filled to brim every night you’re there, almost as if he had invited a crowd to watch you crumble at his fingertips. “Room,” You gasp, air being knocked out of your lungs just as his fingers tug your underwear to the side, teasing your entrance while playing with your clit. It’s amazing, how he moves his hand in the little space your pants allow him to, but with every push and pull of his fingers inside you, you gasp. Minho knows your body just like you know his– he knows what you like and it just so happens, he likes it too. Likes seeing you like that, breathless and limp; likes kissing you as you moan his name, wiggling on his lap as you make out on his couch. Likes when you beg him, to go to the room, to speed it up, to make you cum. He likes being in power, you assume, as much as he might not like you.

“You wanna go to the room?” He chuckled, speeding up his movements in a way that has you too distracted to event think. “Not a fan of exihibitionism, are you?” You would have laughed if that wasn’t the exact moment he chooses to pull his hand out, fingers dragging up, up, up to your clit for a little tease. A taste of what you can you have if you just let him work. “Come on, let’s go.” But before he can even take a step towards the familiar room, you tug him by the collar for a kiss, filthy and wet, and you basically rip his shirt off of his body. He is soft and hard at the same time, pun intended. For a man, he takes a lot of care of himself, and you envy the clear and soft skin of his chest, feeling self conscious about the blemishes you know you have. It’s an anxious impulse to pick at your arms, and it’s times like these that makes you cuss are your longish nails.

You forget all about it when he moans at the feeling of those same nails scratching down his chest, stopping just below his bellybutton. These moments are rare, you never have a chance to have some resemblance of control in how things unfold between you two, but something about it makes your eyes twinkle… and you want more. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re so hot.” And you are– you feel like you are and that’s all that matters as you pop the button open, making space for your hand to slide down, under pants and underwear, to grab a hold of him. “Oh…”

There’s a draft coming from the room, where he insists on sleeping with the window upen as snow covers the entire street outside in white, and you shiver almost the same way you did last night. Except this time, you don’t have his sweaty, overheated body on top of yours, and it’s not as pleasant anymore. You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting on that couch, but you do know it’s time to get up and go. At one point or another, Minho will notice the empty space next to him in bed, and you don’t wish to be there to find out if he cares enough to come look for you or not.

You grab your jacket as if it’s made of glass. He hangs them neatly at the front door, which is right next to the room entrance, and you are scared to even step on his wooden floors. If the wood gives you away, then you are not sure you’ll have the guts to face him again. Usually, when you leave like this, doing the classic Irish goodbye and disappearing for a couple of weeks or so until someone falters. To be fair, so far, t’s an equal score. You wonder if there is an unspoken agreement between you two that dictates whose turn is it to text first… last night, it had been him.

“Fuck!” You moan, and just like before, you wiggle in place in a silent plea. Sometimes, in your opinion, Minho takes too long with his teasing, but you know it’s on purpose. Like how he is right now, brushing the tip of his dick between your folds. If it wasn’t for the condom, you’d feel the way he leaks in excitement. But alas, that’s one level of intimacy you are not, and never will be, ready to have with him. Someone, maybe, just not… him. You will never give yourself that fully to Lee Minho, because you did, once upon a time two years ago, and it was a struggle to get yourself back. “Minho, please, please just– oh my god…”

He’s a calculated lover. He knows just when to push and pull, and just then, as you beg and buckle your hips into him, hoping to feel that delicious, burning stretch of him, he pushes. Despite everything, you don’t quite like feeding his ego, and so you try and hold back the whimper that threatens to escape.

The build up of sex with Minho is slow. He pauses, moaning into your neck as he gives you a couple of seconds to get used to the feeling of him. “Y/N, fuck,” He whispers, moving to give you a bruising kiss and that’s when you know your time is done. The way he pulls back and pushes in again, and again, and again starts to build up inside of you, making you throw your head back into the pillow, fingers sinking into his back. You enjoy keeping him close, knees pushed up to his hips trying to feel him deeper, harder. You like the way he picks up the pace little by little, hipbones harsh in how they snap against yours, letting you know you’d be sore for next day with the echoes of his skin on yours. “Minho!” You moan, feeling his harsh breathing on your cheeks. A shiver runs up your spine when he fucks you harder, mouth everywhere until he finds bliss sucking marks on your chest. “Fuck, baby, please, please, please–” At this point, you’re not even sure what you’re asking for, just wanting to feel that tension in your stomach explode and tingle everywhere, blanking you out from existence.

It’s not an easy job, making you cum, but he never fails to impress you with how determined he is. Not that he has ever been successful, but as you explained before, it’s not about the destination, but the journey. Sometimes, you think the reason why he keeps calling you back is the fact that you are a challenge. Sure, he had made you cum with his mouth before, those sinful lips wrapping around your most sensitive part as sucking like he was trying to drink you fully. Or those hands– long fingers drawing an orgasm out of you as if he was simply beckoning you to come closer and closer to him. But cumming from his dick, as much as your mind loved the fantasy, is hard. It’s more of a you thing than a him thing, but he is relentless in his mission. He pushes away from you, as much as your grabby hands try to keep him in place, and raises to his full glory, standing on his knees while holding your hips up to match his erratic rhythm. “So tight… feels so fucking good,” He groans, bringing one leg over his shoulder and you can’t handle it anymore. It’s odd, feeling this good yet feeling pain at the same time. Your leg is cramping up, and your hands are holding onto the bedsheets so tightly you might just crack your fingers out of place, and your core… god, your core is on fire.

“Minho, please, just– oh my– cum, please baby,” Your twisting your whole body in a sensation that is foreign to you, and for a moment, everything stops. This is the first time you know it’s coming… you feel it, so close yet so far, and just as you’re about to tip over the edge, that euphoric sensation starting to spread in advance as your stomach coiled tighter and tighter as he pounded into you harder and harder… until he groans, impossibly loud, and his hips slow down to a stop. “You have got to be kidding me.”

What comes after is not that important– mainly because it’s not you, even as he slides his body down the bed, throwing your legs on his shoulders to get to work. If there is one thing Minho excels at, besides driving you absolutely nuts, is coaching you to the brink. It’s a shame, really, that you panic early, never letting him push you off the edge and make you cum so hard you scream his name in that high-pitched tone he loves teasing you about.

It’s a hard relationship you have with yourself, really. On one hand, that’s the only reason you’re there, the sex, the panting, the hours that pass by and you don’t even notice. But then, on the other hand, as much as you chase that orgasmic feeling like a madwoman, you don’t want it to end. No the sex, no– sometimes, all you want is for it to end, because you’re close, so so close to cumming that you might just ruin it all.

You don’t want to lose.

If you cum, you lose. It’s a sick game, and you’re playing it with no one else besides you, but you refuse to lose. This time, you’re on fucking top.

This time, if anyone is getting heartbroken, is him. If anyone is ending up on the floor crying, it’s him. If anyone is desperate for answers, it’s him.

This time, if anyone is losing, it’s fucking Lee Minho.

“Leaving early again.”

Chuckling, you don’t really acknowledge him yet, finishing tying your boots and wrapping your scarf around your neck, your chin, your face. You cover everything his eyes trace, smirking under the soft fabric and enjoying how it brushes over your lips so gently… he’s never that gentle with you, so it’s a welcoming contrast, your inanimate scarf to Minho.

It’s cold out, cold enough for the little skin you have on show to numb. With every step you take away from him, you numb. With every goodbye wave, every nonchalant glance, every uncaring smile– you’re numb to the point of feeling like you’re hypothermic. The cold, you find, opening his front door, only brings you back to a state of being you’re awfully too familiar with.

“What can I say,” You shrug, refusing to admit the defeat that is when he simply leans against the wall, smirking as if he knows what you’re going to say next. “I have nothing else to do here.” And with that, you step out, ignoring the pang in your stomach when the door actually slams shut behind you.

You can’t lost, you remind yourself one more time, marching to the subway station just a block away.

You can’t lose because if you lose, you lose him. And if you lose him, you’re numb forever.

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

Hi lovelies!!! Oh my god, this one was a wild ride >.< I hope you guys enjoy it, my little heart needed to write this as a venting session haha

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igotanidea · 1 year

Text

Glimmer: Jason Todd x reader

request: Jason Todd x fem!reader who is optimistic, sees good in people and gives him hugs and kisses when he comes from patrol.

****

She never knew it, and even if she did she would totally refuse to believe it, but there was something in her eyes that always made Jason feel better about world and about himself. A bit.

He met Y/N on one of his night patrols and not-so-surprisingly rescued her from a mugger. Typical Gotham occurrence, but unlike any other citizen of this god-forsaken city she did not seem shaken or terrified or even sad.

“How are you so fine with what happened?” instead of taking off the second the robber was dealt with Jason found himself captured by her unusual behavior

“I’m not” she sighed deeply and her e/c orbs focused on him, making him shake inside due to the intensity of the gaze “I’m not all right with how Gotham affects people. That the poor had to go to the great lengths to survive on the streets while crime lords have everything. I’m not fine with the fact that kids here suffer because their parents abandoned them. I hate that GCPD seem helpless when it comes to dealing with all this shit and vigilantes have to take matters in their own hands.”

“So, pretty much you hate Batman?” Jason scoffed, trying to act casually, not showing how touched he was by the mention of kids on the streets. After all, he was one of them many years ago and the memory of what he went through was still hunting him sometimes.

“I never said that!” she laughed. She laughed a few seconds after a traumatic events. “I admire everything he does. But unlike our fierce protector, I’d rather focus on seeing good in people.”

“Good?” Jason scoffed, his helmet muffling the sound a bit “There’s nothing good in this shithole.”

‘Maybe that is your problem, Red. Your aim is to get rid of the crime lords. Arguably by killing them all off….”

“I don’t do that anymore.” He chimed in

“Then hurting them. Injuring them. Making them remember the pain. I’d rather spread the good emotions. Like in the homeless shelter where I volunteer after work. Or at the child center. You should see the smile on those people faces just because you gave them ten minutes of your time. To talk, to actually ask them how they feel, if there’s anything they would like to do. Elders have so many to say, yet no one ever listens. And children, those poor little souls, who did nothing wrong in their life, except for what’s necessary to survive. A hug or a joke is enough to make them cry happy tears.”

“You’re being awfully optimistic, aren’t you?”

“Can’t help being who I am” she smiled so bright, Jason could swear that it lighted up the whole alley “you should try that sometimes, Red Hood. Anyway, sorry for keeping you this long, bet you have another parts of the city to patrol.” Once again her beaming, hopeful, sincere eyes landed on his face (or rather helmet) “thank you for helping me. I know you do not see yourself this way, but what you do matters. The method may be a bit extreme, but still, I appreciate what you did. What you do.”

“I……” Jason stuttered. It was the first time someone actually said something like that to him. Was he really good in her eyes?

“I gotta go.” She shook he head, hair falling all over her face and Jason had to use all his strength to fight the urge to brush those strands of. There was something about this girl…. ”Stay safe, Hood, will you?” she turned around and started walking away, but he called after her, making her stop.

“Can I get your name?!”

“Wonder why that matters to you.” she laughed, but decided in favor of answering “It’s Y/N. My name’s Y/N.” with a single wave of the hand she was gone, leaving Jason wondering and muttering that single word over and over again.

***

“Hey, Drake. I got a favor to ask.”

“And out of all the people in the world you came to me?” Tim raised an eyebrow “You must be truly desperate, Todd.”

“I can always go and ask Barbara. Bet she’ll deal with the search I need much faster than you. She’s an expert after all.” Jason smirked knowing well enough how the reverse psychology affected Tim.

“Better!? No way!! What do you need?” the younger boy spun around on the chair, now facing the bat computer, fingers hanging over the keyboard, twitching in anticipation.

“I want to find a person. I only got a name, Y/N, possible living location and I know she works at the homeless shelter and kid center. Can you target her?”

“don’t know.” Tim tapped his chin, wondering “Is he a Red Hood’s object of interest or Jason Todd’s one?”

Fuck. There was no good answer to that question and Jason found himself falling right into Tim’s trap.

“Let’s say a little bit of both.”

“Whatever you say……”

***

Tim was faster than Jason anticipated and with just a few clicks and searches he managed to locate the girl. And just a few minutes later, after breaking some speed limits (Bruce would pay for the tickets obviously) Todd was in front of the building she was spending her evening at.

It’s been a while since Jason seen so many hurt and scared people in one place and that reminded him how much crime actually was in Gotham. He was fighting some part of it, but the rest…. Damn it. The view was just painful. Starting from a few-years old, ending up on the elders, every age group has a representation in this place. And amongst all those citizens he saw Y/N. With messy hair and a smudge of something that seemed like a paint, but was awfully similar to blood she was telling a story to a bunch of kids, one of them placed on her knees. That little dirt on her cheek made Jason shudder. In the depths of his mind he already saw her injured, bleeding in some alley, after being attacked or raped, her optimistic attitude not serving as a shield. But apparently her positive attitude was not a result of obliviousness and being raised in separation from the bad aspects of life, but rather the opposite. She experienced the sadness and pain everyday while working with those people and yet, remained cheerful. That was….. strangely alluring.

“Hey there.” She put the kid down, noticing him standing in the aisle, looking confused “Are you lost? Are you hurt? Do you need help?” she was so tiny in comparison with a tank Jason was and she wanted to help him. Not even expecting anything in return.

“No…. I ……”

“Hey, it’s ok.” she reassured, putting a hand on his shoulder and he immediately felt the warmth coming all over his body. “You’re safe here. We can give you any aid you need.”

“I don’t need help. “ Jason shook his head.

“You sure?” she tilted her head “Cause it seems to me like you got a strained muscles, a bruise on the jaw and some cuts on the forearms.”

“You are quite observant, aren’t you?”

“Did my time as a doctor assistant.” She shrugged “never get to finish though”

“Why?”

“Um… you know, typical Gotham stuff. Parents getting shot. No one to help me pay for college…. I had to tend for myself and that required a full time job, not just studying. So I dropped. Became an assistant nurse instead. Shitty job, shitty pay, shitty work hours, but get to make ends meet.”

“And you still find time to volunteer?”

“Like I said to someone before, I’d rather help people by spreading good. Seriously, can I help you with anything…..?”her voice hanged a bit and it took him a while before realizing she was waiting for hi name.

“I’m Jason. And I …. I think I want to be a volunteer as well.”

***

It’s been three years since then.

Three years in which she was constantly surprising him with her attitude, her smile, her uptake on things.

Three years of her being his rock, getting him through the shittiest, lowest day, never letting him give up or his darkness and shadow consume him. She was his ray of sun on those days when he had no power to push through.

Jason was not the first person to trust people, but somehow she managed to gain it quite quickly. After a few months of acquaintance, shaking because of the emotions (mostly fear) he told her about his alter ego, awaiting abandonment, terrified, judgmental gaze and her leaving him for good.

There was a moment of silence after his confession, two young adults just sitting on the couch opposite of each other. Jason looking down, silent begging for her to not leave him, missing the fact that Y/N’s signature honest gaze were focused on him.

“Jason….” she said quietly, careful not to startle him “Jace, please look at me.” The boy hesitantly raised his head, scared what he might see on the girl’s face “did you think I would leave you?”

“Yes.” He blurted not able to control himself anymore.

“You silly boy.” She leaned forward slightly, reaching for his cheek, not touching yet, since she learned how hard physical contact was for him “Can I?”

“Please….” He mumbled, and once she cupped his face, immediately leaned into the touch. So touch starved, so desperate for her, without even realizing this.

“Listen to me, Jason Todd. I am not going anywhere.”

“You’re not?”

“Of course not.” she whispered “I’m honestly a bit offended you could even think something like that. Do you even know me?”

“I know you see good in place where there is none. And I’m no good. I’m bad news, always have been and….”

“Oh, for crying out loud.” She hissed and not giving a shit about being gentle put her lips on his, the urge being just too strong to hold it anymore. “Sorry….” Just a few seconds later she realized what she did and pulled back, her face turning apologetic. “I didn’t mean to push….”

“Come back here” Jason breathed out, wrapping an arm around her waist and claiming her lips again, this time fully. God, he never knew how much he craved her and how much fear of rejection on her part he had. “I need you.” he whispered pulling her flush to him “God, I shouldn’t but I need you so bad.”

“Good thing it’s mutual.” She smiled, brushing a curl from his face and connecting their foreheads

“But….” He tried to say.

“if you start talking about that shit about darkness and everything else I won’t kiss you for a week.”

“Are you threatening the Red Hood, princess?”

“Guess, I am” she laughed, realizing that little fact “is it working?”

“Sure as hell it is.” Jason gasped before closing the gap between them.

***

Y/N was quickly accepted into the Wayne family, turning into a valuable member of the team. And damn, she was good at working with Oracle from the cave. But the most important part of her job (in her own words) was still giving the good vibes. Keeping the batboys (and batgirls) up and running, showing them how much good they were doing and how grateful people were for that.

Jason needed it more than anyone else, still doubting himself and dealing with past trauma, not that anyone blamed him for that. If nothing else, dying and resurrecting definitely have an effect on one’s mentality. And that was precisely why, Y/N would always stay up in the night, waiting for Jay to come back from the patrol to welcome him in the most caring and loving way she could.

“Jace!” she jumped off the couch as soon as she heard him walk thought the door, his helmet and jacket already discarded on the floor. She practically jumped into his arms, wrapping legs and arms around him, tugging her boyfriend tightly, feeling his muscles relax under her touches and caresses.

“Hi, baby….” He sighed deeply feeling her in his arms. The only person that made everything he did worth the effort.

“My hero.” She tugged him even tighter, hands tangling in his hair massaging gently.

“Hero? That’s funny princess. Are you sure you’re not mistaking me for Grayson? Do you wish that it was someone else in your arms?”

“What are you…..?” she pulled back from him slightly, but his arms kept her in place, familiar smirk forming on his face. “You are incorrigible Todd! Why are you constantly playing with me?”

“Cause you look cute with that surprised Pikachu face” he kissed the top of her nose and she pouted.

“Stop it! It’s my job to kiss you and hug you. You’re tired and hurt. Let me take care of you.” her hand travelled down from his neck and rested on his heart “Please, love. I just want to take all the pain from you. Let me, Jason.” she was practically begging him now, and the fact that he truly had someone who was willing to do that for him was making him melt. Since the words failed him, he just nodded, closing his eyes not to show any vulnerability. Almost three years of being together and it was still hard for him to show her his emotional side. “Open those eyes” she commanded, once he put her back on the floor and they just stood in place. “I love you, Jason.” Y/N said with fully convinced voice “whatever you think about yourself, you are a hero to me.” a little kiss on his forehead “A protector.” Kiss on his nose “a fighter” one on each of his cheeks “I can never see you differently” a peck on his lips, too short, leaving him wanting more and chasing her lips “but it’s me. You don’t need to act strong with me when you are tired. You don’t need to hide your emotions. You could never be too vulnerable for me. I accept and somewhat understand Red hood, but it’s Jason Todd I fell in love with. My Jason. The emotional one. All right, baby?’ she caressed his cheek, grabbing his hand and leading him backwards towards the bed “will you rest with me?”

“Yes.” He whispered “Please……”

“All right.” She helped him lay down and once he rested head on her chest, feeling her fingers play with his hair, the other hand caressing her back, Jason slowly let the tension and the burden of opinion, judgments and expectations go.

She was making him feel better about himself.

She was making him feel better about world.

And maybe it was wrong and selfish and careless, but he loved her.

And he was going to tell her that.

Soon.

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