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acescavern · 22 days

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Lay Your Hands On Me x Mingi x Reader x Yunho

When you’re left alone over easter break, your two hot neighbors convince you to join them for their lake house getaway. Only, you didn’t realize the topic of conversation would be surrounding your dry sex life on the very first night. After a tense encounter at 3am, you decide to try and see how long it will be until they break.

Pairing: Yunho x fem!reader x Mingi.

Genre: Smut. basically pwp ish. i'm not entirely sure if there even is a plot to this anymore. not proof read

wc: 6.5k woops?

Warnings: NO member shipping, threesome, poorly written smut, best friends yungi, yungi are your neighbors, reader gets left out by her friends, mingi and yunho are horndogs, big dick!Yunho, Rough mingi, i feel like Mingi was kinda soft Dom, there's a thigh spank or two, unprotected (wrap it up!), cream pie, talks about readers sex life, overstimulation, multiple orgasms ( f receiving ), pussy eating, slight stomach bulge, the reader is a tease. Mingi calls reader Dollface, and Yunho calls her Angel.

note: Hey! I haven't written a full-fledged fic in a while. I feel like I've repeated so many words in this. I hope you still enjoy it, though! these two men have been WRECKING me. Did anyone catch the coachella live stream? I literally died

ps. I wrote this whilst listening to if u think I'm pretty by artemas

Any feedback is greatly appreciated! What was your favorite part?

I do not permit for my work to be copied, published on other websites and blogs or translated.

Your shoulders slumped once your roommate’s car finally left your peripheral vision. All of your friends had found something to do, somewhere to go and have fun, over the Easter break. It left you sitting in an empty apartment, listening to the sounds of the heating and water pipes creaking or even your upstairs neighbour's loud exhilarating activities.

You were excited at first, the prospect of having the place to yourself.. but the fear of missing out finally set deep into your bones when your friends had decided to meet up with each other during their trips whilst you sat at home alone with nothing but the walls to talk to.

With a dejected sigh, you pulled your thin cardigan further around you and turned to head back inside. You knew you probably looked miserable to any passerby, but you couldn't find it in you to care.

You startled when a pair of firm hands settled on your shoulders, halting your mopey shuffling down the hallway. “____?”

Your eyes rose from the floor, settling on the worried features of your neighbor. The corners of your lips twitched into a sorry excuse of a smile, hand lifting to wave at him. You didn't trust your voice. You always made a fool out of yourself around Yunho and his roommate.

“What are you still doing here? I just saw your friends leave from the window, shouldn't you be with them?” His brows were creased, his expression drawn in confusion.

Yunho’s fingers were absentmindedly pressing your shoulders as he bent his head to read your face. You knew the sting of your eyes meant tears, but you blinked them away and shook your head.

“I'm.. “ You swallowed thickly. “I'm by myself this break.” Your chest hurts just admitting it. “I wasn't invited.”

You weren't sure that Yunho's expression could even be sour, being the sweet and polite man he is, but it did. A flash of irritation crossed his brown eyes. Your heart leapt into your mouth when his hands moved from your shoulders to cup your face, your own wide eyes staring back at him. “and you're gonna be okay?”

You knew Yunho meant nothing by it, but his touch was warm and safe. You fought the flutter of your eyelids, willing yourself not to lean into his touch. Your head bobbed in a slightly restricted nod, Yunho pulling his hands away.

“I guess. I'll just… clean, I guess.. laundry...” You weren't hiding how low you felt over the whole situation. Your voice held no enthusiasm, no life.

Yunho pursed his lips in thought, giving a quiet nod and letting you be on your way. He watched with a frown, your shoulders slumped and head hung low. Your eyes had lost the spark today that Yunho found one of his favourite things about you.

Instead of making his way down to the car to check if they had everything, Yunho went back into the apartment he shared with Mingi. The younger male looked up at him in confusion from the couch.

“What did you forget? Yunho, I swear if you just walked to the car and back again I–” Mingi was swiftly cut off by Yunho perching on the coffee table in front of him.

“What if ____ joined us at the lake house?”

It’d been half an hour since you were left to your own devices. Half an hour of mindlessly flicking through the TV channels with disinterest. You were almost grateful for the continuous knocking on your door… until you weren't, and it wasn't seeming to go away.

Opening the door only a slither, you came face to face with your other neighbor. Mingi. His dark hair is messy and damp as if he'd just showered. Judging by the enticing scent of spiced apples coming from him, he had. “Yes?” You raised an eyebrow at him, his expression locked in a grin.

“Pack a bag. Bring a swimsuit.” He said simply, causing you to stand solid in front of him for at least a good thirty seconds as he looked at you expectantly.

“Mingi wha–” Mingi cut you off, his hand cupping your shoulders to turn your body back into your apartment.

“Yunho wants to get there before midnight. Hurry up.”

That was exactly how you found yourself sitting in front of a warm fire a little before midnight with a marshmallow on a stick, your neighbors both sipping beers as they too toasted their treats.

“I did not look that miserable!”

“You did! You looked like someone kicked your puppy!” Yunho laughed, recalling your wounded look in the hallway just a mere three hours ago.

Mingi reached over, his ringed hand patting your knee. “You're cute when you sulk, ____.” His hand retracted all too soon, fingers curling back around the beer bottle to lift it to his lips again.

You'd long finished your beer. You all were only having one tonight anyway. You'd discovered after you had gotten here that the duo planned on staying a week at least.

After your complaints and confusion were worn off, you were grateful. Anything was better than listening to your thoughts for two weeks whilst you had the apartment to yourself. You were also glad that none of the perishable food you had stocked would go to waste. It would save the three of you having to live off gas station sandwiches before you could get groceries for the week.

You had never realized how relaxed the two best friends were away from the university. Around the campus, Mingi's expression was always pulled into a stressful pout. The crease between his brows was always begging for your thumb to just gently smooth it out. Yunho's shoulders were permanently tense. In fact, his whole body was. There were many times you felt like you'd run into a literal brick wall, but it had just been Yunho in the halls.

To see them both lounged back in the plastic outdoor chairs, beers in hand, and smiles on their faces was nice to see. Your soft spot for the two handsome best friends only grew tenfold.

“So,” Mingi set his beer bottle down, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Why were you alone?” he peered at you in curiosity.

“Didn't we go through this?” Your head tilted to the side, eyes moving to the side to send a puzzled look into Yunho's way.

Mingi shakes his head, pausing a moment. His tongue swiped over his bottom lip as he thought about how to voice his curiosity.

Mingi cleared his throat. “No, I mean…You had the whole apartment to yourself..” He trailed off.

He sighed, seeing your brows crinkled further in confusion. “Okay?...”

“He's asking why you didn't have anyone over.” Yunho cut in, his tone slightly exasperated with Mingi's cryptic questions.

“Oh.” The statement had your shoulders straightening in surprise, a deep blush spreading across your cheeks. “Uhm.. I don't have anyone.” Your gaze tore away from his own, glueing to the marshmallow you’d plucked from the bag next to you.

You busied yourself with stabbing it with the stick as a prolonged silence carried across the warm fire. It wasn’t that you detested the idea of having company. It was more a case of…well. Most men gave you the biggest ick. Nearly all men you’d ever come across had given you the ick, and it only took you until now to realize that Yunho and Mingi had never given you that feeling.

You would be blind to miss how handsome they both are and the fact that both of them were genuinely nice guys. That just made the icing on the cake. The cake that you wanted, you’d wanted for a long while. You hadn’t made it obvious. You’d never made a move on either of them. Why would you? You knew who good guys like them go for. They go for bad girls they think they can fix. They didn’t go for girls like you. Little did you know, you couldn’t be more wrong.

When you did look up, both Yunho and Mingi’s concentration was fixed on you. Mingi’s left eyebrow raised as if to challenge your answer. “What?” Your tone grew slightly defensive.

“____, The walls between our apartments are very thin.” Yunho trailed off, looking sideways at his best friend when your clueless expression grew.

“So…?”

“So, we hear things. Everything. Specifically, I hear things... Through my bedroom wall on the other side of yours.” Mingi continued on, relief flooding him when your face broke out into a laugh, a cute red hueing your complexion.

“That isn’t my room, Mingi.” You covered your mouth to try and keep your humorous spurt of laughter at bay. “My room is on the other side of Yunho’s.” You took a bite of marshmallow.

“Wait…” Yunho murmured, his expression thoughtful. “So, you’re the culprit of the fake moaning after your roommate's birthday party last month?” His revelation had you choking on the sweet treat, Mingi had the courtesy to thump on your back to dislodge it.

“Oh my- Yunho!” You spluttered, hiding your face behind your palms. “The one time I tried to get with someone and you were listening?!” a heavy groan of shame left your lips, your body sulking back into the camping chair you were sitting in. “That’s so unfair!”

As much of a gentleman Yunho was, he found the whole situation hilarious. “A really rare occurrence.” He grinned, reaching into the cooler for another beer. “Seriously though, I felt bad for you.” You knew what Yunho meant.

Yunho was referring to how fake your noises were, how the guy didn't even pick up on it. Not that Mulgyeol from the campus soccer team would have time to notice. The guy was out in 5 strokes. You also knew for a fact that Yunho was probably referring to the sad little fact of you having to finish yourself after he left. You weren’t proud of that but you have needs and whilst the vast population of men give you the undeniable cringe factor, every six months or so you would attempt to divulge your urges - just to see if it would be different that time. News flash, it wasn’t.

“H-How did we get onto the subject of my dry sex life?” You nervously chuckle, looking back and forth between the two men with vibrant cheeks.

A chuckle rumbled in Yunho’s throat, dying off to a comfortable silence. The conversation topic would have felt very intrusive had it been with anyone else, but somehow, the two still hadn't weirded you out. You were still sitting comfortably content in your camping chair around the fire with them.

Mingi fidgeted in his seat, fingers threading through his platinum blonde hair… he hadn't said much else for the next 15 minutes. the three of you sitting in comfortable silence.

“I’m off to bed, guys.” You mumbled tiredly as you stood. You began to fold up your chair to take inside, but Yunho waved you off, claiming he would take it when they went to bed.

You weren't far from them, certainly not out of earshot when Mingi spoke again.

“We'd never do that.” it didn't take a genius to know what he meant, and the mere thought of his words made your skin alight. “Goodnight, ____.”

Mingi's parting words at the campfire the previous night had lit a fire within you. Your skin prickled with the curiosity of what else he could have meant. Your dreams hadn’t been favourable to you either, your body jolting you awake with the lingerings of a breathy plea hushing into the silence. Your skin was littered with goosebumps, and your mouth felt dry.

One thing about being in this lakehouse is the chill of a night, but you didn’t plan on being out of bed long. Especially in your pyjamas that were only white shorts and a blush pink camisole with white lace trim to match. A shiver shuddered through you as your feet hit the cold wooden floorboards. You didn’t bother with a cover-up. It was 3 AM. Who would be up at this hour anyway?

Mingi was. Nearly choking on air as he rounded the open doorway to the kitchen to find you reaching up on your tiptoes for a glass from the top shelf. You had one knee resting on the grey marble of the counter for leverage but it only had Mingi’s eyes zeroing in on the shortest pair of shorts he had ever seen, your cheeks almost shyly peeking out the hem.

He sucked in a breath, brain finally kicking into gear when he saw your balance wobble and your fingertips only pushed the glass further away on the shelf. He heard you grumbling to yourself, cursing whoever decided to put the glasses on the top shelf. Your rambling had an endeared smile whispering the corners of his mouth, his head shaking slightly as he approached.

Mingi knew he was testing the waters here but as he closed in on you, his left hand splaying its fingers on your hip to steady you, his chest to your back, the right arm reached past your own to grab a glass. He felt the jolt of surprise your body made against his own.

Mingi cleared his throat. “You didn’t look like you were winning.” His voice was thick and gravelly from sleep, fingers tightening their hold on you as you moved back instinctively.

The glass made a muted sound as he set it on the counter, Mingi’s brown eyes nearly rolled back into his head at the view of your neck arched back to angle your head toward him, staring at him with surprised doe-like eyes.

You seemed to be rendered speechless, a blush on your cheeks that almost matched your top. The male was having heart palpitations when he finally got the front view of you, the teasing view of your navel between the hem of your camisole and the waistband of those pesky shorts he just wanted to remove drove him crazy.

Needing a distraction from the way your nipples perked beneath the material stretched over your breasts, his touch on you ceased. His fingertips tingled from the buzzing feeling of grazing your bare skin. Clearing his throat, he swiftly picked up the glass to fill it.

You felt like your soul was trembling, calling out for him to touch you once more. You felt wound tight, words catching in your throat. “U-Uhm, no.” Your attempt to recover had your voice sounding slightly strained. “Who’s bright idea was it to put cups on the top shelf?” You laughed it off quietly.

“That’d be me.” He hummed, “Yunho’s grandmother left us this place in her will, we renovated it a little.” Mingi leaned back against the counter, his black sleep shirt pulling taught across his torso. “We’ve known each other since we were kids, our families are close.”

You nodded quietly, acknowledging him. Mingi lifted the glass of water to his lips, your eyes locking on how his throat moved when he swallowed the cool liquid. Your gaze trailed up to his face, heated gazes locking as he pulled the glass away. Your breathing elevated, Mingi was looking at you as if he wanted to eat you… The corners of his mouth tilted up as he held out the half-full glass of water to you.

You couldn’t look away. The intensity behind his eyes locked you in place, your fingers brushing his own as they curled around the cool glass. Mingi couldn’t look away, couldn’t stave off the stirring in his shorts as he watched you turn the glass and drink.. His mouth prints are being covered by your own.

Mingi’s brain couldn't help it. To him, you’d just indirectly kissed him. He could see the range of emotions in your eyes. The eye contact finally broke when Mingi caught sight of a droplet of water cascading its way past the rim of the glass and making a path down your jaw and neck… he watched it disappear under the almost sheer camisole.

“Fuck, ____… You don’t make it easy.” He groaned throatily, prompting you to set the now-empty glass on the counter once more.

“What do you mean?” Your head tilted, eyebrows drawing in confusion.

An amused chuckle sounded between you, Mingi shaking his head in slight disbelief. “You seriously don't know how much we want you, do you?” He moved away from the counter, towering above you. Your chin was tilted up toward him by his index and middle finger, Mingi’s hot breath dusting your face. “You’ve got to know how fucking crazy you make us.”

“U-Us?” You echoed in confusion. You sounded breathy and distracted.

“Mhm. He’s right.” You jumped at the sound of the new voice. Yunho.

Mingi’s fingers curled around your jaw, tilting your head to Yunho’s tall figure casually leaning against the doorway. “Look at Yunho when he’s talking to you, Dollface, hm?” Mingi’s lips sounded against your ear, teeth grazing against the shell.

Yunho made it no secret that he was checking you out. Not when his bottom lip pulled into his teeth when his dark eyes roamed your figure. “We could give you everything you need and more, Angel.” His tone is soft, and you nearly find it harder to focus when Mingi’s face is pressed to your own, his hands sliding around your waist after finding no resistance.

“If you let us.” Mingi finished for him, ghosting his lips against the corner of your jaw. “But you ought to think about it…decide what you want.” His words left you confused, your eyebrows furrowing when they cut through the haze.

“Why?” You looked to Yunho, the male grinning at the desperation in your eyes.

He tutted, shuffling closer. Yunho’s long fingers slid into your hair, palm cupping your cheek. He almost cooed fondly at how you arched into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut. “Because this wouldn’t be just a one-time thing,” he murmured. “If we have you, we aren’t letting you go. You’re ours.”

Your breathing stilled, mind dizzying. A sound escaped your throat, both Mingi and Yunho’s touch seizing from your body. “Think about it, We won’t make a move until you do.”

And with that, both men left the kitchen with sick grins, leaving you standing there breathless and wanting.

You hadn’t slept for the rest of the night. How could you? With a proposition like that, your mind only raced. You’d come to the same conclusion. Nothing they said last night had scared you away. You still very much wanted them both, and actually, you liked the idea of being ruined for anyone else. Being theirs… well.. You guessed your thoughts of good guys only wanting bad girls were wrong.

You were already showered and dressed for the day by the time Yunho emerged from his room. Mingi was still sleeping, his door firmly shut opposite the room you were staying in.

You sat at the round four-seater table at the far end of the kitchen, a cup of coffee in one hand as you scrolled on your phone. Yunho liked the blue colour of the blouse you wore, your cotton shorts complimenting it nicely.

He fixed his cup, sitting silently across from you. Yunho wondered if he and Mingi crossed a line with you yesterday. He’d worried about it all night after the kitchen encounter. All worries were soon washed away when he caught your eyes shyly glancing up at him.

“Was last night okay?” He blurted, almost wincing at how rushed he sounded.

You seemed to pause, taking a long sip of your coffee before you answered him. Almost as if you were making him wait. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable.” You voiced, prompting his shoulders to relax.

The both of you sat in a comfortable silence until you’d finished your drink. “It’s so sunny out, I’m gonna catch some sun.” You washed your coffee mug up, then turned to Yunho just before you left the room. “Wanna join?”

Yunho nodded, claiming he would meet you out on the deck. What he didn't expect was to find you in a pastel peach string bikini, the front of your body shiny and glistening with tanning oil. He can see where you had missed spreading the liquid on your back.

He inwardly groaned. Surely, you were doing this to him on purpose at this point. Yunho readjusted the sunglasses on his face, setting his phone and book down on the small table between the two sun loungers. He leaned back in his lounger, picking up his book to flick through.

From the corner of his eye, he watched you lie your lounger flat, adjusting the head cushion to lie on your front. The sun bounced off your skin beautifully, and Yunho was about to compliment as such but stopped short when your hands reached behind you to untie your bikini top.

“You don’t mind, do you? I hate tan lines.” He couldn’t see the mischief behind your eyes with your sunglasses in place, but he for sure caught the twitch of your mouth. “Did I miss any of my back?” Your question was loaded with faux innocence.

Yunho slowly folded his book back, slipping in his bookmark in the process. He set it down, wordlessly grabbing the tanning oil and standing from his lounger. Yunho perched himself on the edge of yours. “You missed a bit. Can I?”

You hummed your consent, propping your head on your forearms. “Mhm, please.”

Your stomach fluttered at the feeling of Yunho’s big hands on your bare back. The tingles returned, just like from Mingi’s touch in the kitchen. His hands slowly rubbed the oil into your skin, fingertips adding pressure at your shoulder blades.

“You’re tense.” He mumbled, thumbs working at the knots of muscle easing the ache away only to make the ache in your core yearn for him further. His hands firmly pushed up from the bottom of your back, thumbs caressing your spine and his fingertips brushing the sides of your breasts.

The sounds he pulled from you had Yunho smirking to himself. An almost pained moan had his fingers pausing. “There.” You sounded so breathy... Yunho wondered if you’d sound like that if he found your sweet spot too…

“God..” You groaned, “You got magic hands or something?” You mumbled against your arm.

Yunho laughed softly, dragging his hands down toward the base of your spine. He thought for a moment, eventually speaking up. “You don't like tan lines, right?” He waited for your hum of affirmation. “Then what about these?” His fingers tugged at the waist of your bikini bottoms.

Your eyes sprang open, neck twisting to look back at him. Whatever he had expected you to say or do was not indeed what you said and did for certain… Yunho watched on in stunned fascination as you swiftly untied the strings on both sides of your bikini bottoms. “You’ve got a point. Mind helping me out again?”

Yunho had never agreed to something so fast, pulling your bikini bottoms back from behind. He swore under his breath, mouth parted as he watched the drizzles of the tanning oil hit your skin from the bottle in his hand. His hands moulded to your body again, smearing the shimmery tanning oil over the globes of your ass. He was entranced, locked on the way they rippled under his touch. Yunho allowed his fingers to testingly dip close between your legs, rewarded with a soft moan of his name. Your breathing was getting shallow, your body responding to his touch like a magnet. His fingers brushed so close, one arch of your hips and-

Yunho withdrew his hands, once again leaving you to sit on his lounger once again. You were a mess, body trembling as you attempted to recover. “There. All done.” The amusement behind his voice was clear to you.

Fuck.

After Mingi had woken up, he’d ventured out to the deck to join you. His chest was exposed, a pair of black swimming trunks sitting low on his hips. He sat in the lounger you previously occupied. “Where is she?” He asked Yunho, arms stretched above his head in a yawn.

Yunho nodded toward the lake where you were, sitting on the small jetty with your legs dangling in the water. As if you’d sensed him, you looked up from the ripples of the lake water and caught Mingi’s gaze. He grinned fondly at the beaming smile on your face as you lifted your arm to wave. “Cute.” He murmured to his friend.

Yunho nodded in agreement. “The sun suits her.” He looked up from his book. “Makes her eyes shine.”

Mingi tilted his head, smile broadening as you slid off the jetty and into the water. “She caught a tan today?” He didn’t look away from you once as you swam over, climbing up the ladder to the dock and brushing your wet hair away from your face.

“Yep...oiled up and everything.” Yunho thought back to how you’d just let his hands trail your body like that. Once again, he shut his book as you approached.

“Mings! Sleep well?” You asked, grabbing one of the towels you’d brought out with you that morning. You took no notice of the trance he was stuck in, too focused on the water droplets dripping down your body just like last night.

Well... a little like last night, he could see more of your body. Peach suited you. Yunho nudged Mingi with his foot, snapping him from his staring. “Huh? Oh! Yeah, slept great.” He sat back in the lounger. “Always do out here.”

After drying as much of your body as you could, you disappeared inside. It wasn’t long before you reappeared, a cherry popsicle in your hand. Mingi’s arm encircled around your waist when he noticed you were about to sit on the floor. Instead, he let you sit between his legs on the lounger.

“Better than the floor,” you joked. You lifted the end of the popsicle to your mouth with your left hand, and your right beginning to mindlessly scroll through your phone.

Your body relaxed against Mingi’s chest as his fingers mindlessly played in your hair. “Is the water warm?” He asked, raising an eyebrow of amusement as you moved the popsicle away from yourself with a grimace. The iced treat had melted, the sticky substance making a mess of your hand and chin. You didn’t even want it anymore. The Cherry taste was more sour than expected.

“A little chilly to begin with,” You answered, slotting the half-eaten treat back into the wrapper, Yunho taking it from your sticky fingers to put it in the bag they were using as a bin for their snack wrappers.

Mingi didn’t say anything more. Instead, he grasped your wrist in his hold and brought your hand to his mouth. With a startled gasp, you tilted your head to watch as he lapped up the remnants of the melted liquid from your skin. Once he was satisfied, he let your arm go to shift his attention to your neck and collarbones. His mouth was warm and soft, wet tongue lapping at the mess on your skin. Your arms raised behind you to curl your fingers into his hair, sighing out in contentment.

Mingi moaned against your skin. He was addicted now he finally had his lips on you. Just like he knew he would be. Mingi’s teeth nipped gently at the juncture of your neck, his tongue swirling over the skin to soothe it. You didn’t have it in you to scold him for marking you up… not when your mind was a dizzy spell of fire.

Your dazed, addled mind didn't even see Yunho move from his lounger. You hadn’t a clue until his strong hands grasped your ankles, fingertips ghosting their touch up your legs to part your thighs. “So pretty.” His honeyed voice reached your ears through the haze. “But, sweet as she looks…” He began, his tone sharpening. “I made a discovery earlier, Mingi.”

The younger hummed against your skin, mouth still worshipping your skin. “Mh? What’s that?” His words muffled with his wet kisses across the tops of your breasts above your bikini.

“Our Angel, here.” Yunho toyed with the strings of your bikini bottoms. “Already knew what she wanted the moment she came on this trip with us, didn’t you?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t think of a coherent thought right now… a sharp swat of Mingi’s hand across the top of your thigh drew out a whimpered gasp. “Yunho asked you a question, Dollface.”

“Yes! Yes, I knew.” You cried out, Mingi’s teeth biting at your skin once more.

“Thought so.” Yunho mused. “That stunt you pulled earlier really didn’t work in your favour, did it?” You hadn’t ever heard his mocking tone before, but you weren't about to complain… It sent shocks through your core.

“No, It didn’t.” You admitted. You were hoping to wind him up, determined to see how far he would go before he snapped… but instead, he’d left you practically naked and wanting on the lounger next to his.

Yunho tutted, shaking his head. He tugged the ties of your bikini free, letting the strings hand down. “I’m going to enjoy this.” He spoke raucously, shuffling down to lie at the foot of the lounger on his stomach.

Yunho's soft lips made contact with the inside of your knee, traipsing kisses up until he met the crease of your leg. He wasn't worried about anyone seeing you. The lake house was in the middle of a wooded area, two miles from the road or any neighbouring cabins.

Mingi held you still as your body began to writhe, the product of Yunho's lips blowing cool air over your throbbing centre. “Stay still, Pretty girl.” Mingi said gruffly, mouthing at your breast over your bikini.

His mouth worked at the bud of your left boob, lips suctioning around the nipple. Your whines fell on deaf ears, Mingi just wanted to kiss every inch of you. He struggled with the knot at the centre of your back that kept you partly clothed. Frustrated grunts, making him lift his mouth off of you to attempt to untie it. He settled with wrapping part of the string around each fist and tugging, effectively snapping the material.

Your head was too fuzzy to care, especially when you felt the flat of Yunho’s tongue lick straight up the middle of your core. “Yunho!” One of your hands flew down, from being draped around Mingi’s neck behind you, to clutch Yunho's hair. His mouth was relentless, muscular hands holding your thighs over his shoulders. You never knew a man could moan like that from eating pussy but here he was, his noises creating vibrations against you.

You didn't quite know where to pay attention to, Mingi’s mouth and fingers abusing your nipples or Yunho's onslaught of licks and sucks on your clit.

You slumped against Mingi again when Yunho prodded two fingers at your entrance, your hips cantering in acceptance. “You're so wet, Angel. Bet I could just easily…” Yunho trailed off as his middle and index finger finally pushed in. They dug deep within your walls, a long moan echoing around the deck. “Knew it.” He curled his digits, the pads of his fingertips tapping against the spongey wall he was looking for.

It elicited a sharp cry from you, Yunho mumbling a small ‘found it.’ before his mouth latched onto your clit again, tongue flicking in tandem with the thrusts of his fingers hitting your sweet spot.

By now, your sounds of ecstasy were no secret, pleas of their names desperately calling out as you writhed in their grasp. “Please!” You begged, Mingi lifting his head to watch your expression.

Mingi made a sound of disappointment as he was met with the sight of your head thrown back and your eyes closed. “Watch him, ____.” it wasn't a request. His tone held no room for debate, and so you peeled your glazed eyes open, tilting your head down to watch as Yunho devoured you.

You felt your orgasm building the faster Yunho's fingers abused your g-spot. Your moans rising in pitch. You didn't even give him a warning when your lower abdomen tensed, toes curling as the sound you let out was almost animalistic. Your thighs shook around Yunho's head, attempting to close, the fingers in his hair tightened to pull at the roots harsher than you meant.

When Yunho's head finally lifted from between your legs, he was grinning ear to ear at you as you slumped breathlessly against his best friend. You could feel Mingi's erection against the base of your spine from where you were laid.

“We're not done with you yet, Dollface.” Mingi cooed mockingly, looking down at your fucked out figure. He pressed a kiss to your forehead when you looked up at him, shaking his head gently and guiding your eyeline back to Yunho.

Your whole body froze. Yunho's swim trunks were chucked haphazardly onto the other chair, his hand slowly jerking his cock. He was huge! Probably the biggest cock you'd ever seen… his girth was impressive alone but you worried if he would even fit.

“____, you good?” He asked encouragingly. Yunho could see the apprehension on your face give way to a determined squint.

“Mhm. Fine, m'good.” Mingi's palms rubbed your sides as you answered.

“Okay, you need to tell Yunho if it's too much.” He stated. “You can make sure to do that, can't you?” He sent you a dazzling smile when you nodded.

You will yourself to relax as the fat head of Yunho's leaky cock makes the first press against you. Just the tip was stinging from the stretch. Mingi hugged your back to his front, kissing up and down the left side of your face and neck. “Relax. Stop tensing.” he demanded softly.

Mingi continued to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. Praising you, touching you, telling you how much you drove them both crazy. It relaxed your muscles enough to accept Yunho's length, pushing into you further. His teeth harshly bit into his bottom lip, his hips rolling slowly forward to sheath the final few inches in you. The garbled moan you made was accidental, but you were thankful Yunho stayed still to give you time to adjust.

“Holy shit.. are you all the way in?” Such an odd question to ask his best friend, but Mingi was never brash about such things.

Yunho nodded, his voice strained as he answered. “Our Angel’s a good girl. Of course, she took it all.” He grunted at the squeeze of your heat at his words. “I'm so deep.” He marvelled.

Mingi, as if to test his words, pressed his hand on your lower stomach. His eyes bulged out of his head, free hand reaching for your own for you to feel the outline of Yunho's cock. You whined, trying to roll your hips as a signal.

Yunho's thrusts started gentle, light taps of his hips against your thighs. Until you get used to his size, the initial discomfort makes way for blinding pleasure. His movements grow more calculated and hard. Mingi's hand stays on your lower stomach, feeling the way Yunho’s cock nudges your insides.

“Y-Yunho.. Yuuunhooo!” Your throat was hoarse from screaming his name repeatedly. “You're s-so deep!”

His thrusts get firmer, fingers digging into your thighs harder than before. This man was literally rearranging your guts in the best way. Mingi lets his hand glide from your stomach to toy with your clit, circling it with his fingers. It hadn't been long since your last orgasm but you were fast approaching a second. Yunho wasn't much better himself, his pace quickening. He felt his skin prickling as he approached his high.

The moment you fell apart around him, Yunho lost it. His thrusts grew sloppy, hips jittering as he spilt into you. “Fuck, Angel.” he panted. “You're gonna kill me.” Yunho pulled out slowly, taking his time to watch his release leak from you. He felt hot and sweaty but nicely sated.

Mingi manoeuvred your body back to the lounger as he slipped out from under you. The noticeable tent in his trunks caught your eye briefly. “Can you take one more?” He questioned you.

Yunho planted himself back on his own chair, sitting back to watch the two of you. He watched the obedient nod you gave, messy hair falling in front of your face.

Mingi tapped your cheek gently, pushing your hair back before connecting your mouths. The kiss was full of desperation, tongues curling around each other. You protested when he pulled back all too soon. “Turn over.” He helped you roll onto your stomach.

Unlike Yunho, Mingi didn't give a warning that he was going to thrust into you. He still gave you time to adjust, though, that much you were grateful for. His thrusts were brutal from the start.

Mingi wasn't holding back anymore. He wanted you ruined for anyone else but them. You were theirs and theirs only. He had a bruising grip on your hips, guiding them as you bounced back to meet his hips. Your moans and screams for him were constant, you'd surely have a sore throat in the morning.

He was pounding into you much harder than Yunho had. You had the pillow of the lounger in a death grip, back arched. Mingi watched the way your ass cheeks rippled with every bounce against his pelvis. You started to feel overstimulated, this was the quickest in your life you'd had an orgasm build up. Though, it was aided by the previous two and the mass amounts of tension between the three of you. Your lips parted on a silent cry as you came. Your body began to violently tremble.

Mingi pulled out immediately, his hand gripping his cock to empty his come over your ass, pruning deep in his chest. “You did so good.” He praised, breathless.

Your brain felt like it wasn't working. All you could do was dazedly giggle in reply. Thoroughly fucked.

“We broke her.” Mingi laughed, using the same towel you dried yourself with earlier to wipe your ass and lower back. He was sweet enough not to drag the rough material over your sensitive pussy. You were too overstimulated for that and he picked up on it quite quickly.

Both Yunho and Mingi pulled you into the en suite bathroom in Yunho's room a few minutes later. Your legs felt like jelly, and the two were cautious with how they handled you.

After they had showered you, Mingi wrapped you in a big fluffy towel. His arms held you to his body. You still hadn't said much, but your blissed out expression meant that the two men weren't worried.

“C'mon Dollface, you need rest.” Mingi said as he stroked your damp hair behind your ear. “We've got so much more in store for you.”

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taintandviolent · 2 months

Text

Stalked - Kai Anderson x Reader

summary & wordcount: 2.6K! After breaking up with Kai, he decides you need a little reminder of what once was. idea requested by @kaislittlelamb originally!

w a r n i n g s: smut with very little plot, implied stalking, toxic relationships, throat fucking, blowjobs, Kai being Kai, violence, aggression.

a/n: this was originally a drabble, but got longer - very quickly written, sorry if it's horrible! definitely not my best. thanks for reading it, if you did!!! no taglist this time because it's a pain in the bootay.

full fic under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! /

You'd met with Zack a few times now, but this was the first time you two had actually gotten to talk and get to know each other. He was cute, in a very boy next door sort of way; physically fit, a tousled mess of brown curls, bright green eyes, and bright, white teeth that probably got whitened bi-weekly.

"So, anyways, I moved here about three months ago after my mom moved here, and with her needing help, I figured I might as well stay."

"Nice." You grinned.

"Yeah, so I'm definitely still learning the best spots to eat..."

You casually glanced around the restaurant, scanning the patrons next to you; you were an observer and enjoyed people watching, in all situations. Abruptly, several tables across from you, wavy, blue hair caught your attention. Your expression contorted into one of shock as your eyes trailed down the bridge of the nose, taking in the man's face. No fucking way.

As though he felt that he was being watched, Kai turned mid-sentence, and immediately made eye contact with you. His brows rose slowly in surprise, and ultimately, delight. You blinked and turned away quickly, engulfing yourself back in the conversation. Or hoping to. But there was no escaping this.

"Excuse me," you heard him say, before scooting his chair back. The legs scraped against the floor with an awkward sound, and Kai made his way over to you, navigating around the tables.

Like a child trying to avoid being found, you almost considered sinking down in your seat, chest heaving with shallow breaths. Some luck you had. Some fucking luck. You rolled your eyes, shifting your shoulders. Zack watched you, studying your very apparent discomfort. You felt both men's eyes on you, and laughed nervously into your soda.

"Y/N..." Kai said.

You said nothing in return, only smiled sarcastically and stirred your soda with the straw.

"New boyfriend?" He asked, his tone dripping with faux-interest. You knew him. You knew him like the back of your hand, and he wasn't interested. He was waiting to incriminate you.

"No, actually." Zack interjected, bravely. "We're just getting to know each other. It's going well."

You nodded, giving him a genuine smile. "It is."

Kai tightened his smile further; the fakeness started to show through the cracks. "Good, good. Well, I just wanted to say hello. I'll leave you two lovebirds to finish your appetizers."

"You know him?"

"Unfortunately. Too well."

"Ex-boyfriend?" Zack asked, popping another spinach-dip loaded chip into his mouth.

Sheepishly, you nodded.

"He looks familiar."

"Yeah, you've probably seen him on TV. He's a councilman."

Zack snapped his fingers, pointing at you. "That's it! Anderson, right?"

Again, you nodded. "Yep... that's the one."

The waiter appeared, meals in hand. As you two ate, the conversation naturally melted away from Kai, which you were grateful for. Especially since it seemed like it was headed in the direction of Zack wanting to vote for him and agreeing with his campaign policies. Unfortunately, Zack fit the bill of one of the men that Kai would easily brainwash, and recruit to his noble cause.

Halfway through dessert, your phone buzzed. You knew who it was from without even looking. The message read: We should get together.

You quickly thumbed out a response. Why?

Just to talk.

Against better judgement, you agreed. The rest of the date was spent laughing about poorly written films in the last decade, but in the back of your mind, laughing was the last thing you wanted to be doing. The next hour was a blur. Zack had gone in for a kiss when he was leaving, which you returned, but only briefly. You were distracted. Painfully so. You went from the restaurant to Kai's, but you hardly remembered driving there. Your mind was on autopilot; a rotten, sour feeling bubbling in your stomach. Everything in you said that this was a bad idea, and yet, you gripped the steering wheel hard, looking at his front door.

You got out, locked your car and made your way up the pathway. You only knocked once before the door flew open. He stood tall. Proud. Unwavering. That overly confident, but calm smile plastered on his stupidly-handsome face. His hair hung at his cheeks, greasy as ever. He was pleased you'd shown up - you thought you saw a flicker of doubt that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't have. But you were a woman of your word, and you weren't going to show him that he was something to fear.

"So, when are you going to break it off with what's-his-name?" Kai asked as he took the basement stairs quickly, trotting down them. You followed, wordlessly, revelling in the familiar sensations. Once you'd stopped at the final step, you glanced forward, eyes locking on the brown leather couch. Out of all the memories that you'd had in that basement, the ones that rushed back were the ones where Kai was fucking you on that couch. Ruthless, merciless fucking until your back hurt and your insides felt like they'd been obliterated twice over. You blinked the images away, swallowing hard. Your head turned before your eyes met his.

"Zack is actually very nice, and he'd probably treat me very well if I decided to pursue a relationship with him. But since when do you care who I'm with?"

"It's my business."

"No, it fucking isn't. It hasn't been for weeks. Last time I checked... I was uhhh, what was it? A stupid bitch?" That had become a favorite alias of his. You plopped down on the sofa, cushions giving way to your weight.

Kai bristled. "You know, you really should be careful what you post on social media."

"Excuse me?"

"You never know who could be watching."

The realisation hits you like a freight train. Him being at the restaurant wasn't a coincidence, it wasn't bad luck. Kai knew exactly where you were going to be and he made it a point to be there. You’d replied to a friend in the comments of a post, telling her that you were going to be at that particular restaurant in the afternoon. He’d seen that.

"You've been.... fucking stalking me!?"

Kai filled his chest with air, somehow standing taller than he already did. "You sure like to show off your cute little life, don't you? Pathetic little coffee outings and Tapas date nights. But what I want to know..." Kai trailed off, circling you like the pathetic little lamb you were. "...is who you go home and think about. Is it Zack? Or maybe Edward?"

You felt the muscles underneath your eye twitch.

"Or is it.... me?"

Kai finally moved in front of you, his broad chest obscuring your view from everything else. His legs touched your knees.

"Answer me."

"I don't have to tell you anything, Kai. You aren't my boyfriend anymore."

"I said answer me!" Kai pressed his thumb and forefinger into your cheeks, making your lips pucker out like a stupid, confused fish. He yanked your head forward, bringing it up towards his. The action strained the muscles in your neck, but you didn't dare say that. This dynamic was very familiar to you. You'd been here before.

"Seems like you need a little reminder."

A chill ran down your spine.

"Open your mouth." Kai's thumb traced your pouty lips softly, sweeping back and forth. He waited a few seconds, his face tight with impatience and when you didn't concede to his request, Kai forced your mouth open, pressing his fingers into your cheek flesh until you winced and dropped your jaw.

"Good girl. Now, you're going to keep your mouth open until I say to close it. You understand?"

You nodded, your tongue resting delicately on your bottom teeth.

"I have a very important job for you. You're going to stroke my cock until it's hard and then I'm going to throat fuck you."

You held back a cringe. He was always so... direct. Direct with his intentions, direct with his words, direct with his actions. You supposed that was the main vein of why he was doing so well as a councilman; people liked the truth -- and regardless of validity, if something is delivered with enough confidence and directness, it's believed.

You reached forward tentatively, undoing the button of his dark jeans. The zipper came next, one tooth at a time. You felt the heat of his groin as soon as you leaned forward to pull the jeans over his buttocks, turning your face away so that you weren't met with a mouthful of fabric. With a strong hand, you gripped the elastic of his boxers, pulling them down over his balls - his dick flopped out, heavy and warm to the touch. You sucked a self-encouraging breath into your lungs and reached forward to grip his flaccid cock, inching your lips towards it.

"No." He bucked his hips backwards, furrowing his brows. "What did I say?"

You froze, backpedalled and began stroking, intentionally angling it towards your mouth. Kai let out a shallow breath, pressing his chin against his chest to watch you. You gave it a firm squeeze, and in response, his cock twitched in your grip; it didn't take long for it to swell and stiffen to capacity in your grasp. You paid some attention to the tip, spreading around the slithery pre-cum that had leaked from the slit.

"I always liked that about you - your willing adherence to any and all demands. You know what I want."

At least he was praiseful. He always had been, even in the late and toxic stages of your relationship. Still, you chalked it up to him enjoying the sound of his own voice and feeling like he was in control of the situation

Your free hand took hold of his balls, squeezing them softly. At that, Kai vocalized hungrily, grunting low in his throat. He was a very venous man; in any heightened state of emotion that got the blood flowing, his veins popped in his forehead, his neck, his hands... and his cock. Your tongue massaged the veins that swelled on his shaft, flattened out on the thickest one underneath and flicked at the tip.

You continued jerking it, finding a rhythm until Kai's large hand enveloped yours, forcing his cock out of your grasp to replace it with his own. Pumping his cock in and out of his hand a few times quickly, Kai hissed through his teeth, and took a fistful of your hair at the crown of your head. He immediately let go, and cupped the back of your head with his hand, stroking it softly. Tenderly -- like it meant something to him. It didn't. You were a stupid pawn in his story, another one of his dedicated cult members, and he regarded them all the same.

You closed your mouth to swallow, wetting the inside of it before returning to your previous, vulnerable position, tongue out, eyes lifted to meet his. Kai's pitch-dark eyes looked down at you with a roiling expectancy, one that spoke louder than words could. He slapped the tip of his cock against your waiting tongue, revelling in that first, startled flinch.

At first, he slid just the tip along the texture of your tongue, grinding against you, but it didn't take him long to penetrate. The tip of his cock bumped against the back of your throat, and you closed your lips, bowing your head slightly to allow him further down your throat.

“How does that feel?”

You nodded your head. Kai let out another throaty moan and picked up his pace, thrusting his hips hard into your face as you relaxed your throat as best you could, fighting your gag reflex. His cock filled your throat - violated it - the salty taste of his precum overwhelming your senses. Your nose burned and your eyes watered. You guessed that your eye makeup had begun to stream down your cheeks in ebony ribbons.

Kai's visual was ethereal. You were coming undone before him - below him - as women should. In such a submissive state, you looked your best. He took a fistful of your hair and yanked you forward, violently forcing you to deep throat his dick. He felt the slick, strong contraction of your reflex and grit his teeth; you were withholding it, but the pathetic, whimpering sounds of your gags drove him forward. He pictured them, remembering all the times that he had been in a similar position with you.

"Gag," he said, finally. "I want to hear your pain."

When you didn't, Kai forced his cock further into your throat, until your nose was pressed in the bush of his hair. That did it. With your eyes squeezed shut, your throat repeatedly rebelled. You coughed and gagged around his shaft, the tip still pressed against your tonsils. You finally opened your bleary eyes at him, straining them upwards to get a visual on him, to beg him wordlessly for relief. Kai flattened his hand on the back of your head and bunny humped your face, pulling more desperate gags from your throat.

"Who do you belong to?"

No response. Just a full-mouthed cough.

He took a fistful of your hair, pulling you hard off of his dick. THWACK! Kai's hand whipped across your face, leaving a welting streak of red in its wake. His cock bumped against the roof of your mouth as you nodded slowly, stunned from the sheer force.

"I'll ask you one more time... who do you belong to?"

Finally, you gave him another feeble nod and lifted your hand to press a single finger into his pectoral muscle.

"Good... that's what I like to hear. You remembered that it's rude to talk with your mouth full, too. I'm so proud of you."

Kai reinserted his cock into your waiting mouth, almost gently. That was everything but comforting, but this foreplay was familiar to you, and therefore, enjoyable. Sure, the way your throat burned as his dick hammered in and out might've teetered on the edge of discomfiting, but you'd been here before. You knew him, and at one point, you loved him.

You made an O around his cock as he dragged it out from the back of your throat, sucking gently. Kai began thrusting again, but less rhythmically than before. He was losing his steady pace, and that only meant one thing.

"Don't fucking stop," he breathed. "Keep going."

You closed your eyes again, two tears streaming down your blushing, caving cheeks. He was going to cum soon, you felt the tightness, the heat, the urgency behind his thrusts. Pumping his cock in and out of your swollen lips, Kai’s hand snapped to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he thrust remorselessly.

A second later, he bottomed out again, and you felt his cock twitching, pulsing in your mouth as his orgasm washed down the back of your throat. You coughed a wet, sticky wet cough and Kai groaned, letting his head fall back into his shoulders.

"Swallow. Fucking swallow it."

You did. You winced as your throat accepted the mouthful of blisteringly hot cum, salty and slightly unpleasant. Your mouth felt sticky and your throat was coated – you couldn't talk, not clearly. So, instead of telling Kai that you hated him, you just glared at him with fire in your gaze, baring your teeth at him like an angry dog.

“Aw, what? What, you hate me? Is that what you want to say?”

You nodded.

“Go sit at the table. We’re going to talk about that.”

#myfics #Kai Anderson x reader #Kai Anderson x you #AHS Cult #American Horror Story

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angywritesstuff · 1 year

Text

Pole King... (and queen)

Just a quick one in honor of the pole king who is back

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader warning: probably poorly written english/ the first post is a video

ItsMeYn

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc and others

ItsMeYn It's Quali day they said... dress accordingly they said...

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charles_leclerc ✓ I like the pants

↪️ItsMeYn Of course you do

ilpredestinato She understood the job perfectly liked by itsmeYn

evelyn.leclerc They are gonna be twins... i love it

charles.leclerc.fanclub She is always so supportive of him

ItsMeYn

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari and others

ItsMeYn I'm dating the Pole King if you were wondering... (so this means I'm a Queen... just saying)

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scuderiaferrari ✓Charles is on fire in Baku

↪️ItsMeYn He is always on fire charles_leclerc✓My queen ❤️ liked by ItsMeYn, yourmom, and others

cherles.leclerc.fanclub He's done an amazing job... King and Queen

f1.obsessed You do the points on Sunday not on quali

↪️ItsMeYn Thank you for telling me... I didnt know 😒 ↪️evelynleclerc She is so sarcastic... I love it ↪️pierregalsy✓ Yn your claws are showing liked by ItsMeYn

ItsMeYn

liked by charles_leclerc, leclerc_pascal and others

ItsMeYn I think I look good in a wedding dress... @charlesleclerc what do you think? view all comments

charles_leclerc ✓ you always look amazing

↪️ItsMeYn That wasn't... nevermind... thank you

lewishamilton ✓ Did I miss something?

↪️ItsMeYn Of course not... you would be my first invitee ↪️arthur_leclerc ✓ Yn your crush is showing ↪️ItsMeYn @arthur_leclerc show some respect... you child... there is a seven times world champions in this comments section ↪️charles_leclerc ✓ What crush? ↪️ItsMeYn nothing baby

pierregasly ✓ I would like to be the best man

↪️ItsMeYn tell your friend to make a move and I could put in a good word ↪️pierregasly ✓ We've got a deal

ItsMeYn

liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc and others

ItsMeYn This year I'm bringing winx to coachella 🦋 view all comments

Yn.leclerc didn't even get to the ID check before blessing us

↪️ItsMeYn no rest over here

Yourbestfriend I heard lewis is at coachella too...

↪️ItsMeYn who do you think took the photo? 😁 ↪️charleswife you are always disrespectful towards Charles with all your flirting with Lewis and the fact you're always half naked ↪️ItsMeYn I can promise you Charles loves my being always half naked ↪️charleswife you don't deserve him ↪️charles_leclerc ✓ I can assure you I'm the one who doesn't deserve her and there is a big difference between flirting and joking. I have never had a doubt and never will about @itsmeYn love and faithfulness ↪️ItsMeYn you tell them babe.. love you lewis- I mean Charles ↪️charles_leclerc ✓ @itsMeYn you are a menace ↪️ItsMeYn @charles_leclerc you love me

charles_leclerc_fanclub OBSESSED

↪️charles_leclerc ✓ Me too

charles_leclerc ✓

liked by itsMeYn, pierregasly and others

charles_leclerc ✓ She is like a baby... she stops making a fuss when you buy her ice cream

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ItsMeYn what's that saying? a lady in the street and a freak in the sheets?

↪️charles_leclerc ✓ baby.... ↪️ItsMeYn What? i'm asking ↪️charles_leclerc ✓ now pierre is gonna appear on this comments section ↪️pierregasly✓ 😏 ↪️charles_leclerc✓ see Yn... what did I tell you.. he is gonna make more damage than he did with the dog emoji ↪️ItsMeYn don't worry... I got you ↪️pierregasly✓ Yn why are you calling my girlfriend? stop talking to her... thank you... now I'm in the dog house ↪️ItsMeYn I thought that was what you liked... sorry I must have misunderstood the dog emoji ↪️piarlesfan Oh my god....I laugh everytime they interact in the comments

ItsMeYn

liked by pierregasly, arthur_leclerc, Charles_leclerc and others

ItsMeYn Date a F1 driver they said... it's gonna be fun they said... @charlesleclerc

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charles_leclerc✓ You are such a scaredy-cat

↪️ItsMeYn I thought you said cut not cat... also you're sleeping on the couch ↪️pierregasly✓ charles you can always sleep at mine if she kicks you out ↪️ItsMeYn I like this idea: you take Charles and I take Kika ↪️pierregasly ✓ Not liked by pierre gasly ↪️ItsMeYn but liked by Kika 😘 ↪️Yn.leclerc @itsmeYn woke up and chose violence

olliebearman ✓ I heard dating F2 drivers is even better

↪️charles.leclerc.fanclub Not Oliver Bearman flirting with charles' girlfriend ↪️arthur_leclerc✓ man that's my sister in law ↪️Yn.leclerc wait what... sister in law? are we missing something? ↪️veronica Remember that post of a while ago in which Yn was in a wedding dress and was hinting at Charles to propose... Did he take a hint... we need to know ↪️F1Obsessed And if infact they did get married: was @lewishamilton invited and @pierregasly was the best man? we need to know someone talk please

taglist: @buendiabebeta @whathesaid @idkiwantchocolate

English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there are any mistake.

Supporte of any kind is always welcome and appreciated

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allysunny · 3 months

Note

Hii, firstly I LOVE ur writing so much, you’re really talented 🌟💘

Congrats on 200 followers, SOOOO DESERVED!!!

I was wondering if you could do 27+r for Bruce 🥰 something like he left to protect her, it hurt him more than anything and he realized that it was mistake and wants her back. Happy ending tho, I’m a sucker for that haha 😄❤️

Thank you in advance, much love! 🫶🏻

“You left me” / “I was protecting you” / “You LEFT me” + Protecting you x Bale!Bruce

Words: 15.8k words

Warnings: Angst, infidelity, cheating, lots of angst, pregnancy, break-up, suggestive themes and one (1) very poorly written and short nsfw scene (it's like 5 lines long I think), one (1) death, Bruce Wayne being a mess (relatable), a lot of heartbreak and pining, not proofread. I literally wrote this in a span of like, one week, and it's not proofread, so oh my god I'm so sorry if there's anything wrong with it...

A/N: Oh my god. Hello everyone. Holy fuck. Okay so, I hope you guys are interested to know what the fuck happened here. I don't want to waste any more time (the explanation is quite big), so I'll add it after the fic, in the final Author Note. Small context: I got two requests that were kinda similar, so I decided to mix the two together!

Just a heads up, due to reasons that I'll expand on at the end, I feel like the end drags on a bit. I did not proofread because I was a bit saturated with this piece, and I think that at some point, I actually cried because I was panicking real hard.

Anyway!!! I love Bruce!!!! I hope you guys enjoy this <3

Bruce knew you were the one after you'd first spilled coffee all over his suit.

You just looked so worried, your pretty eyes wide with fear as you tried to think of what to say to this stranger you'd just bumped into – or so he thought. You, in fact, knew exactly what you wanted to say to him.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, asshole!" you'd exclaimed, looking at what remained of your iced coffee. "This thing was almost 10 dollars, what am I supposed to do now?"

Bruce eyed you up and down, honestly surprised you had the guts to raise your voice at him. Didn't you know who he was? Did you simply not care?

Either way, he was enthralled.

"Hey!" you waved your arms in front of him, trying to get his attention. "Look at me!"

"May I be so bold to point out you spilled your coffee onto me?" Bruce asked with a small scoff. "If anything, you are the one supposed to do something about it."

"This wouldn't have happened if you watched where you were going." You were very pretty, Bruce noted. Your eyes seemed to sparkle, and your arms were crossed over your chest, making his eyes dart towards it.

"And what am I supposed to do?" He replied.

"I don't know! Give me my money back or something, that coffee is super expensive! It's my special celebration cup!"

""Your money back?"

"Yeah! You're dressed up all nice, I bet that suit costs more than my rent."

"Oh, really?" Bruce was amused one. You were feisty, clearly. "And what makes you think that?"

"No one walks around Gotham dressed like that, unless they're rich, powerful, law agents, or I don't know, Bruce Fucking Wayne."

"Bruce Wayne? Does he dress like this?"

You scoffed, shaking your head and gesticulating a lot with your arms.

"Probably! I mean, it's not like anyone has ever seen the guy, but let's be honest, he probably dresses in expensive as fuck silk, or like, placenta that's fed to and then shat by babies or something."

You only seemed to get better by the second.

Bruce placed a hand on his chin, truly intrigued by your line of thinking.

"Placenta that's fed to and then shat by babies?" He had to admit, this was pretty amusing. Did you have any sort of filter? If so, he never wished that you turned it off.

"Maybe – I don't know – It's Bruce Wayne, so who actually does know? Maybe he's running a society of baby-shitting placenta. It's Gotham. One day we have masked vigilantes jumping off roofs, and the other, bomb threats. Regular Tuesdays for us Gothamites. But the real question here is," you jabbed an accusatory finger into his chest. "What are you going to do to repay me my very well-earned 10$ worth of iced coffee?"

Bruce was just about to reply, when a very familiar voice spoke up behind him.

"Ah, Mr. Wayne!" Lucius's Fox deep timbre was unmistakable, and Bruce turned around to offer him a polite smile. "I'm happy to run into you, there's a few things – " He took one good look at his boss's shirt and grimaced. "Hell, Mr. Wayne, how'd that happen?"

The younger man turned around to glance at you. Poor, poor you, with eyes even wider, and a matching mouth. You blinked several times, looking from his shirt to his face, and from his face to his shirt.

"Oh, that's right. I almost forgot to introduce myself," he put a hand forward, offering you what you thought was the most dazzling smile ever. Geez, women must basically throw their panties at him.

"Bruce Wayne. Baby-shitting-placenta cult leader."

You blinked a few more times, wishing the earth swallowed you whole. You'd literally never done anything wrong in your life. Sure, you talked trash about Suzy Carpenter's sweater in 8th grade, but it was warranted – it did look like vomit – and you had stolen a yogurt from a coworker once, but surely that did not warrant running into Bruce Fucking Wayne of all people, spilling coffee all over his clothes, and accuse him of eating placenta. Maybe Suzy still held a grudge.

"Mr. Fox, how about I stop by your office later today? I'm quite busy this morning. Have something to do."

"Of course, Mr. Wayne. I'll be patiently waiting." Lucius gave him and you an acknowledging nod, before walking away.

You were still staring at Bruce, completely at a loss for words. What were you supposed to say? Was there anything at all you could say?

"I – Mr. Wayne, I – Well, I'm – I," you stuttered and stuttered, and Bruce could only chuckle, before shaking his head. He looked to his left and took a few steps, opening a door before him.

"After you."

Confusion took over your expressions. What was he up to? Where was he going?

"I promise not to kidnap you into a placenta cult," he chuckled, nodding towards the door. You looked at the name written in green letters on the glass. "Coffee House". "I believe I have a cup of coffee to make up for?"

He offered you a very subtle version of that dazzling smile of his, and you couldn't help but return in kind.

"I'm not going to apologize or kiss your ass or anything," you told him.

"That's fine," Bruce shrugged, "I didn't want you to."

You pondered your options.

You didn't know this man. But someone had called him Mr. Wayne, and now that you take a good look at him, he does look like the face gossip magazines and tabloids love to splatter on the cover. And he really did not look like he meant any harm.

And you really wanted a cup of coffee. "Alright, Mr. Placenta Cult Leader."

It did not take long for Bruce to fall in love with you, with your kindness, with your looks, with your beautiful personality. You always maintained that feisty attitude of yours, refusing to treat him or anyone in his world differently simply because you were now a part of it.

And Bruce loved it.

Loved how you couldn't care less what other socialite families thought of you, eating chocolate covered fruit after chocolate covered fruit at fundraisers, loved the way you latched onto him and "claimed" your property so to say whenever other women approached him and tried their luck (not that it would've worked, this man was whipped for you), telling other, more arrogant seniors off whenever they made judgements on yours, or Gotham forbid, Bruce.

But above all, he loved you,

And he made sure to show you just how much whenever possible. He wasn't the best with words, never had been, so he tried to show his devotions through actions. Breakfasts in bed, gentle caresses while you cuddled together on the couch, copies of your favourite books, soft kisses pressed against the hollow of your throat while he brought you to a climax with his fingers. Bruce would never stop showing you his love, for as long as he lived.

Alfred was very fond of you too.

The two of you had gotten along very well immediately after your first meeting, with Alfred telling you all sorts of embarrassing stories from Bruce's childhood. You laughed and replied in kind, and the two of you sort of teamed up to make his life a living hell (in the best way possible), teasing him to no end and cursing him with the worst jokes known to mankind.

Alfred too could see you were the one for his boss.

Saw it in the way Bruce looked at you, like everyone else in the world was gone and the only thing that mattered was the shine in your eyes. Saw it in the way he bent over to whisper sweet nothings into your ear that made you giggle out loud, just the way he saw Thomas Wayne do with his wife.

Saw it in the way Bruce paced holes into his study, pondering on what ring to get you. He bothered him to exhaustion that day, wondering about the colours you'd prefer, what size and shaped rock to get you, how, when, and where to propose.

"It has to be perfect, Alfred," he muttered, shaking his head and sighing incessantly. "I can't just pick any ring. It has to be meaningful. Her birthstone? No. No, absolutely not, that's lame. It's lame – it's dated. She wouldn't like it. Maybe she doesn't even like her birthstone. A diamond. A diamond! No. Out of the question. What if she doesn't like diamonds?"

"If I may give you a piece of advice, sir?" Alfred asked. However entertaining it was to see the mighty Bruce Wayne freak out over an engagement ring, this man was still his boy, and he couldn't bear to see him distressed. "If I recall, it was in your mother's will that her ring was to be stored and kept locked away in the possibility of her passing. I believe it is stored away in her old jewel box, as she was never buried with it. She wanted you to have it."

Bruce's eyes softened, as they often did at the mention of his parents.

"My mother's ring?" he asked to which Alfred nodded dutifully.

"It has been in your family for more than 6 generations now. Your mother wanted you to have it."

Some mixed feeling akin to grief and love passed through his eyes, and Bruce found himself staring at the floor. His mother's ring. A family heirloom, passed on from generation to generation. And now it was his. And would become yours. A million thoughts could've crossed through his mind. "Should I give something this important to her?" or "Is she the right person for this ring?" or maybe even "This is far too important. I need to think twice before making this decision".

But surprisingly, the only thought that came to him was "There is no one out there more deserving of this ring than her".

It was endearing, really, and Alfred Pennyworth was more than happy to see the boy he'd watched grow and loved as his own become his own man, and finally find the love he so much deserved.

When you got home on a warm May night and showed off your ring to him, smiling from ear to ear, eyes red and makeup slightly smudged from the tears you'd no doubt shed, he hugged you tightly and wished you all the best. He was sure the late Mr. and Mrs. Wayne would've loved you, and his eyes teared up at the thought.

Bruce caught sight of this and made his way towards the older man, worried that something might be wrong, the answer almost made him cry as well.

"It seemed like only yesterday I was patching your arm up after a rough fall, Master Wayne. And here you are today, carrying the legacy of your family, a man of your own, about to embark on this beautiful journey that's marriage. I am so very proud of the man you have become, and I'm sure your parents would too."

The two of them hugged warmly. Alfred was the only person besides you who got to see the more vulnerable side of Bruce – well, rather, you were the other person beside him. Having grown up with only his butler, Bruce saw him as a father figure. Sure, he'd never be able to replace his actual dad, but Bruce looked up and admired Alfred very much, considering him part of the family. No one seemed to care about him as much, and he was forever grateful.

That very night, you three toasted with champagne, sharing stories and anecdotes from Bruce's childhood, your relationship, and making plans for the future. And after Alfred had long retired for the night, Bruce took you in his arms, carried you off to his bedroom and made sure to remind you over and over again just how much he loved you.

After the engagement, Bruce told you about his double identity as Batman. You'd never suspected it – you were both responsible adults, each had your own job and errands to run. Not to mention that Bruce was the CEO of a whole company. To you, it was normal if he had to cancel one or two dates, or if you went a few days without seeing him. Sure, you missed him, and sometimes it made your heart ache, but you were a busy woman yourself, and always found yourself surrounded by things to do; hobbies, errands, work – you always had a lot going on, so Bruce's absence felt normal.

He was afraid you'd leave him, but in true you fashion, it just made you even more in love. The man you adored more than anything and wanted to spend the rest of your life with was the one keeping Gotham safe at night. You begged him there and then to show you all his cool gadgets, teach you how everything worked, and your mouth watered at the possibility of having sex in what you called "the Batcar".

"Batcar?" Bruce asked, cringing.

"No – that sounds terrible. Hmmm... Batengine?"

"It's called the Tumbler, and that's all. No Bat prefixes."

"No – no, it doesn't work like that. It needs a name. Oh. OH – Oh, holy fuck. Okay, get ready for this." You placed your hands in front of you, smiling. "You ready?"

"Just get on with it."

"I was just making sure you were ready. Okay listen. The Batmobile."

Bruce looked at you.

You looked at him.

Bruce looked at you.

You looked at him.

Bruce looked at you.

And then he made your wish come true, carrying you off towards the Batmobile.

Later, when you were curled up in his arms, you grinned, placing a cheeky kiss on his jaw.

"You're wearing the suit next time.”

Your engagement was happily lived.

You and Bruce tried to keep it a secret for as long as you could, wanting to enjoy some time together away from the prying eyes of Gotham, but as soon as one photographer caught you taking a spoon to your lips, and the beautiful diamond ring caught in the light, it was over.

“So much for privacy,” you muttered, collapsing on your couch, gripping the latest gossip magazine. The words “WAYNE HEIR TO FINALLY SETTLE! Billionaire playboy finally tamed!?” were plastered on the cover, as well as a big picture of you hiding your face with your left hand as Bruce brought you close to him. “I wonder if they’ll ever leave us alone.”

“Probably not. You’ll get used to it; it comes with the name.” Bruce kissed the top of your head, handing you a cup of coffee. You smiled and sat up straight, taking a sip from it and humming in delight.

“This is real good. Did Alfred make it?”

“Why is it so hard to believe that I would make a good cup of coffee?” Your fiancé asked, sitting beside you. One hand snaked around your waist and brought you closer, and the other softly flicked your nose.

“You burned the coffee beans last time you tried. I don’t even know how that’s possible, Bruce,” you sighed.

“I did my best.” Was his response.

“Maybe stick to being Bruce Wayne by day, and Batman by night. I love a good alliteration, but you were not meant to be a barista.”

Bruce chuckled and kissed you, tasting the sweet coffee off your lips. He hummed, gazing at you through his dark lashes.

“You’re right, this is good. Most likely wasn’t made by me.”

“It definitely wasn’t made by you.”

“You are such a hater,” Bruce sighed, playfully kissing your nose. “I’m never making you any more coffee from now on.”

Your eyes lit up and you smiled at him jokingly.

“Is that a promise?”

Bruce just shook his head and bent down to kiss you. You smiled against his lips, and he took the opportunity to give your waist a good squeeze, causing you to flinch.

“Stop that! I’m going to spill this all over the couch!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time – I recall someone spilling coffee all over me and somehow making it my fault,” Bruce joked, raising a quizzical brow. You smiled fondly at the memory. It was your favourite story to tell.

“You weren’t watching your step. It wasn’t my fault.”

“You bumped into me.”

“No, you bumped into me because you weren’t paying attention. And then you made me spill your coffee all over you.” You smiled and kissed him again. When you pulled away, you felt him chase after you, capturing your lips with his own once again.

Brushing his lips against yours, he murmured, “And I’m glad I did. I got to meet the love of my life that way.”

“You’re so corny, Bruce Wayne. I wonder what the public would think of you if they saw you like this.”

“I don’t care what the public thinks of me as long as you’re by my side.”

You smiled, and so did he. Truer words had never been spoken.

Now that you knew he was Batman, you worried more often.

What before was considered simply a “busy night for Mr. CEO” was now “night out in Gotham, fighting criminals and possibly getting injured”. You found yourself pacing circles around your bedroom, biting on your nails, and hoping that Bruce would come home soon.

You’d asked Alfred for some tips – how could he appear so relaxed knowing that the boy he treated as his own son was out there, doing what he did? Knowing that he put himself in the face of danger so often and sometimes with no regard for his own life?

“It’s hard, Miss,” he told you over a warm cup of tea. “But in the end, Master Wayne knows what he is doing. And now he has one more reason to get back home safely. Everything will be alright.”

And thankfully, he usually did.

You two had a sort of unspoken deal.

Bruce would always wake you up whenever he returned, even if just to let you know he was safe and home. Sometimes, you’d wake up, insisting on checking him for bruises and marks, and even going as far as patching them up.

“The kitchen has better lighting, c’mon,” you mumbled, voice still coated in exhaustion. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, yawning as you made your way towards the kitchen to deal with his bruises. It was routine, at this point. Bruce sat down, you opened your first-aid kit, you two had a snack and went back to bed. It was domestic, in a way. Not really something a regular couple would do, but you and Bruce had never really been regular.

“You’re lucky that one isn’t big,” you said, pointing towards the purple bruise forming on top of his right pectoral. You’d seen worse – sometimes he came home with bullet wounds, or deep gashes on his skin. Not that this was any more reassuring, but you were just glad that compared to other nights, he didn’t seem to be suffering too much. “It should heal in a few days, as long as you keep applying the cream.”

“What would I do without you?” he asked, with a soft smile. This is how you knew Bruce had truly returned home. Some nights he’d be far too tired to speak, choosing to kiss you and softly touch you to remind you of his love. Others, he would lock himself up in the Batcave, somehow convinced he wasn’t worthy of you. Of course you offered to talk to him, to help carry his burdens, but he never wanted to drag you into that side of his life, so most of the time, he would keep to himself.

Right now, though, he seemed to be doing fine. He told you patrol was rather easy, there were no major criminals out, and that nothing was wrong. His smiles and chuckles meant that Bruce, your Bruce was back.

“I don’t know,” you said, moving to open the fridge. As soon as you did, you turned away from it and gagged. “Shit – that’s disgusting,” you said, closing the door and shaking your head.

“What?” Bruce turned to you. “Is there something wrong?”

“I think there must be something rotten in here, it smells foul. Fuck, it smells so disgusting, I think I’m going to vomit,” you mumbled, moving away from the fridge as quickly as you could. Bruce got up right after and carefully opened the door. Nothing. Nothing seemed to smell rotten – nor it would make any sense if it did. Alfred was always on top of groceries, and never in his life he recalled a moment where something was rotten or went to waste.

“Are you sure?” he asked, turning to you. “I can’t smell anything bad.” Searching through the items, he opened and closed lids, smelling whatever was inside. Everything seemed to be intact.

“Are you serious? It smells disgusting – close that door!”

“Honey, I can’t find anything in here that smells bad. Maybe you’re just sensitive or something.” Bruce closed the door and walked towards you, wrapping you around his arms. “We should go to sleep. It’s late.”

You nodded into his chest and allowed him to carry you back to bed.

As you drifted off to sleep, you thought of how nice it would be if every single day was like this – patrol-wise. Bruce would come home with barely any scratches, you’d take care of him in about 10 minutes, and before you knew it, you’d be back in bed, hugging him tightly against you.

Unfortunately, the future held other plans.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t The Dark Knight himself,” a very familiar voice said.

Bruce turned around and faced the familiar mask of the Scarecrow, the man he knew to be Dr. Jonathan Crane. And he seemed to be in top shape – last time he’d seen the bastard, he was mumbling incoherently and out of his mind. How he’d gotten himself out of Arkham, Bruce had no idea, but he was sure to send him back there in no time.

“Crane.” Bruce said, ready to fight at any time. He knew Crane used a special toxin to induce fear in his enemies, and although he was immune to it, he had no idea what other people he’d convinced to do his dirty work. Had no idea if he should suspect any surprise attacks and did not want to take chances.

“You know, it’s funny that I find you here, especially after all the… studying I was doing just last night.” Crane paced around the alley, trying to get Bruce’s – the Batman’s – attention. “I was thinking, what is the big bad bat afraid of?” Placing a hand on his chin, he pretended to be deep in thought.

“Cut the crap Crane,” Bruce all but spat, “What do you want?”

Crane – the Scarecrow – however, did not seem in the mood to stop.

“At first, I couldn’t quite get it. After all, you’re just a man,” Crane put extra emphasis on his words. Bruce saw right through him. He wasn’t the first one who tried to make him feel helpless. “But then, it hit me.”

The Scarecrow kept walking around, weaving a narrative to get into Bruce’s head. The latter one stood his ground. He had half a mind to slam Crane against the nearest wall and just hand him over to the authorities, who’d already been called and were on their way, but part of him wanted to hear whatever the maniac had to say.

He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, but something inside him stirred. Crane looked carefree, relaxed. What had he done?

“Tell me, Bruce,” he said the name with a twisted kind of glee, something that made Bruce’s stomach drop unpleasantly. “Does it worry you when you leave your poor little wife all alone in your Manor? Knowing that anyone could get to her, knowing that she’s defenceless without you to protect her?”

What?

How did he know about him?

Most importantly, how did he know about you? Had he investigated you? Put the pieces together? Had Bruce accidentally left any sort of clue that led him to make the connection?

“Ah – right,” Crane said, removing his mask and offering Bruce a sadistic smile, “You thought no one would figure out your little secret, would you, Batman? How unfortunate.”

In about a second, Bruce was close to Crane, gripping him by the collar of his shirt.

“What have you done to her!?” He snapped, anger clouding his judgement.

“Ah, ah, ah! Now, don’t be crass, Bruce, we’re both respected men and can do this the hard way or the easy way. And I would hate for someone to find out your little secret. Wouldn’t you agree?” The man smiled mockingly, making Bruce’s blood boil.

“Who knows!? Who have you told?” he roared. All judgement and common sense had jumped off the window. Bruce remembered his training; remembered how he was told to keep his emotions at bay. Use his head, not his heart.

“This is where things get complicated now, Batman.” Crane spoke calmly. “I’m the only one who’s aware of your little secret.” Bruce almost sighed in relief. “But that can easily change. Help me get what I want, and I won’t tell a soul. Do anything to stop me, and I’ll let the whole world know who’s hiding under the mask. And believe me – every Arkham inmate would like to know.”

Bruce lowered the Scarecrow onto the ground, breathing heavily. Jonathan Crane knew his identity, knew who he was, where he lived, knew who his wife was. If he didn’t play this correctly, you’d be in great danger.

Reaching towards his pocket, Crane pulled out a small phone.

“In here, I have all the information about you, and the Missus. If you cross me, call for backup, or do anything that would sabotage my plan, I’m sending this file to every phone in Arkham City.”

Bruce weighed his options. He had to be careful. Get the phone out of Crane’s hands, lock him up –

A loud gunshot could be heard through the alley, and the man with the mask in his hand fell on the ground. It took a while for Bruce to understand what was going on, but Jim Gordon’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“I didn’t say you could shoot –“

“Sargeant, we’ve been after Crane for months now, I wasn’t going to let him go this easily!” A younger man in a GCPD office called out, moving towards Bruce and the now dead body lying on the floor.

Jonathan Crane was dead. The Scarecrow was dead. The only person who knew his secret was now dead. Instinctively, he bent down to pry the phone from the dead man’s hands. With a few clicks, he realised he wasn’t bluffing. A message with a large file entitled THE BAT was ready to be sent at any time. Bruce deleted the thing and destroyed the phone with his bare hands.

That had been close.

Too close.

The GCPD had killed Crane, and while normally Bruce would be against the killing policy, part of him kept thanking whatever inexperienced officer had decided to shoot him.

That was too close.

Crane had said no one else knew of his identity. What if he was bluffing? What if the phone was just a means to threaten him, meanwhile, everyone back in Arkham already knew?

“You okay?” Bruce turned to look at Jim Gordon’s worried expression. “It’s not often we see the Batman worried.”

“He knew who I am.”

Gordon took a step back – quite literally – eyes wide as he put his hands on his hips.

“Did he now?”

“He was going to tell everyone in Arkham City should I not help him along with his plan.”

Both men remained silent, staring at each other, before Gordon turned to look at his officers.

“I know you stick to your no-killing policy, but maybe this one was for the – “

The Batman was gone.

“ – Best.”

He’d spent the night at the cave, terrified to return to you.

What was he going to do?

Jonathan Crane had found out about him, so who’s to say someone else wouldn’t? Sure, the average criminal could not simply put together that he was Bruce Wayne, but there were always going to be people like Crane, who held big grudges and had a very high intellect.

It was simply a matter of time before someone else found out about you.

And Bruce couldn’t have that.

He ran Crane’s words over and over again in his head.

Does it worry you when you leave your poor little wife all alone in your Manor? Knowing that anyone could get to her, knowing that she’s defenceless without you to protect her?

He was right. While he was out at night, protecting the city, you were at home, with no one to protect you. He couldn’t bring you along – that was out of the question. And he couldn’t confine you to some secluded area. He knew you’d get upset that he was treating you like a baby, assuring him you could take care of yourself just fine.

You couldn’t.

Bruce had to protect you. He had to keep you safe, out of harm’s and criminal’s ways. Tonight, it was Crane, merely threatening to tell everyone about you. Tomorrow, it could be someone doing good on their promise.

He tried hard to think of what to do.

And the only idea that seemed like it could work, made his heart ache immensely.

He loved you. He loved you more than what he could possibly say. It tore him apart to be away from you, it broke him to simply think of hurting you.

And yet, it would keep you safe.

Bruce loved you.

So, so much.

He loved you so very much, that he was willing to do whatever he had to keep you safe from harm.

It would break his heart, yes. And yours too, surely. But after tonight, he couldn’t risk it. He would go the lengths of the earth to keep you safe and sound. He made his way towards the Manor and thought over his plan.

There was no way you’d believe him if he ever told you he did not love you. No, that wouldn’t work. You knew him far too well to know when he was lying.

He couldn’t say he was trying to protect you either. One thing he loved the most about you, was your stubbornness. If he told you all he was trying to do was keep you safe, you’d laugh in his face and promise you some measly criminals did not phase you. It warmed his heart, in a way, to know you’d stick with him through thick and thin, but it also made him worry.

What could he possibly do to keep you away from him?

And that’s when it hit him.

You had to see it.

It wasn’t an ideal solution – hell, he didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to even think about it. But if it would keep you safe? Bruce was willing to give it a try.

You’d gotten home earlier from work. Bruce knew this. You were supposed to get home around 6 and a half on Tuesdays, but it was currently 6 and you were already hanging your coat by the door.

“Good afternoon, Miss.” Alfred said with a polite nod, hurrying to your side. “You’re home earlier than expected.” A lie. Bruce had spoken to your coworkers earlier, and they’d told him you’d be off work sooner than expected. Alfred was in on the whole plan as well. It didn’t please him one bit, but he knew once Bruce got an idea, he would go through it until the very end.

“I told you to stop with the ‘Miss’, Alfred, my name is fine. It’s been fine for four years, and I’m sure it’ll be fine for the rest of our lives.” You smiled at him. You’d been trying to get Alfred to use your name for all the years you’d been dating Bruce, but to no avail.

“I’m sorry Miss,” he replied. “Old habits die hard. And please, allow me. It’s part of my job.”

“You’re family, Alfred. What would it take for you to call me by my name?”

“A handsome raise by Master Wayne.”

“I’ll see that he takes care of it right away.”

Alfred smiled as you turned to make your way towards the bedroom, and when you were no longer facing him, your expression turned to one of sadness. Was this really what it had come to? Was he about to go on with this?

He didn’t want to, but there was no way he was going against his boss’s rules.

Alfred sighed sadly, before following you.

“I’m afraid Master Wayne is busy.”

“Oh,” you hummed, “It’s okay. I’ll just wait for him to return.” You continued walking.

“No, Miss – he’s in his office. He’s told me not to disturb him, nor let anyone do it, since he’s working on some very important projects for Wayne Enterprises.”

Weird. Bruce never shut you out, even when he was busy. Sure, he might have things to do, but he would always keep his door open should you want to talk to him, or just kiss him.

“Well, that’s fine, I’ll just say hello to him and go take a shower.” You offered Alfred a smile and turned to instead walk towards Bruce’s office. “Did he tell you what work? He never mentioned anything about a project. Is it new?”

“I’m not sure Miss.” Alfred said, his heart beating slightly faster now that you approached the office’s door. He knew exactly what to expect once you opened the door, but it didn’t really make it easier. “He told me he was going to be busy all afternoon, told me not to go in, and closed the door.”

“Weird. Are you sure he’s alright?”

“I suppose so, Miss.”

You furrowed a brow. Odd. And it’s not like he told you anything at all – letting you know he’d be busy or working up until late.

“That’s alright, Alfred. I’ll go check up on him. He must be really tired,” You said, and approached the door. And now, you were even more confused than ever. Weird sounds were coming from inside the office. You could make out two voices – Bruce’s, of course (you’d know his voice from a mile away), and a female one.

What in the world could Bruce be possibly doing behind locked doors with a woman?

You stilled, straining your ears to better make out the noises coming from inside. And you flushed deep red once the realisation hit you. Grunting, groaning, moaning.

No.

It couldn’t be, now, could it? There was no way.

You turned around to face Alfred, whose face seemed to go white as a sheet of paper.

“Y-You said he locked himself inside and sent you away?” You asked.

“Yes, Miss.”

“O-Okay.” You mumbled, facing the door.

The voices got louder. The female voice got higher and shriller, and tears clouded your vision. You mustered up all the courage you could find in yourself, and burst the door open, gasping loudly at the scene before you.

A naked woman was lying on top of your fiancé’s desk, cheeks flushed and hands desperately clawing at his back – Bruce’s back. He was on top of her, hand hidden in the crook of her neck as he groaned, rutting faster against her.

You stilled in your place, completely paralyzed. There were no possible words to describe what you were feeling now. Anger? Heartbreak? Sadness?

The woman let out a loud moan and wrapped her legs tighter around him.

“You like that?” Bruce grunted, lifting his head to look at the woman, who replied with another broken moan and a tug of his hair.

“Bruce?” you said, heart breaking in a million pieces.

He looked up. Really looked up, staring into your eyes. Inside him, something broke as well. He was doing this for your own good. For your safety. He had to keep you away, had to give you the life he knew you couldn’t have as his wife. It was too dangerous.

“Fuck,” he muttered, quickly getting away from the woman on the desk. He stared at you, dumbfounded, scrambling around to quickly get his clothes.

“Hey – hey – what are you doing?” The woman asked, looking at him, before turning to you and her eyes widened. “Oh!”

You scoffed, looking in between the two, and stormed away, tears running down your cheeks.

“Honey!” Bruce called. He quickly managed to put on a pair of pants, and ran after you, heart pounding in his chest. You were mad. This was really happening. He was going to forever ruin the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, and all because of the Batman. He’d betrayed you and broken your heart.

But it was for your own good.

“I can’t believe this,” you said through gritted teeth, walking towards your bedroom and slamming the door shut behind you. Bruce was able to catch it right before it shut closed, and the expression in your face was sure to haunt him forever. Your lovely eyes, usually bright and lively, were dull and red. Your tear-streaked face was something Bruce had never wanted to see in his life – at least not when it pertained to something bad.

“Honey, please, it’s not what it looks like.” He pleaded, walking towards you.

You were quick to move aside.

“Don’t give me that not what it looks like bullshit! I saw you Bruce – God damn it, I saw you with another woman.” You said, trying to remain calm, but failing miserably. “How could you!?”

“Look, darling, if you could just let me explain –“

“Oh! Explain!” You hurried inside the closet, fetching one of your travel suitcases. There was no way you were staying inside this house – his house – any longer. You needed to get out. Needed fresh air, needed to get away from him. “What is there to explain? How you were balls deep inside some woman you’ve found somewhere? Oh, really nice, Bruce, lovely explanation!”

“You have to understand –“ Bruce explained, in between shallow breaths. “You weren’t supposed to find out, you were supposed to be at work.”

“Ah, yes. Of course I wasn’t supposed to find out.” You scoffed and busied yourself with throwing clothes inside your suitcase. “That much I know.”

“I’m sorry – “

“I’m sure you are.”

“I didn’t want it to come to this!” Bruce snapped, and you finally turned to him.

“Come to this?” Your voice was low, frail, frightened. Fuck. What was he doing? What was Bruce doing? Was this worth ruining your relationship over? Yes. Yes – of course it did. If it meant you’d be safe. Everything was worth it if you were safe.

You’d have your heart broken, yes. But in a few months, maybe years, you’d find someone else. A nice, normal man, with no secret identities and no secret life. You’d find a nice man and settle down. He would give you all his time, worship you like you deserved to be worshipped. Would take care of you and love you, and never put you in danger.

And you’d be happy. You’d be so happy; you’d have long forgotten about the asshole Bruce Wayne, who’d cheated on you and broke your heart.

“Yes, come to this.” He repeated. “You weren’t supposed to find out. I was supposed to have ended this long ago, and yet I let go for far too long.” Bruce tried to force some venom, some harshness into his words. He wasn’t used to talking like this to you, nor did he want to – but he had to try.

“What do you mean?” The clothes in your hands were long forgotten, and you just stared at him, like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I just – look, I hate to do this right now, and in these circumstances, but…”

“But?”

“We can’t be together anymore.”

Your eyes widened. What?

“I can’t keep lying to you. I don’t love you anymore.”

These words hit you like a truck.

Didn’t love you anymore?

“What?”

“That’s right.” Bruce sighed, trying to keep his composure. “This relationship is a mistake. You’re holding me back, and I just don’t love you anymore.” His voice was devoid of any emotion, while inside, he could feel everything slipping out of control. He loved you. How could he say such things? How were such words leaving his mouth?

“You – you don’t love me anymore?” You asked, eyes tearing up once more. Your breaths were coming in shallow; you couldn’t breathe, nor believe the stuff you were hearing.

“I don’t. I’ve been miserable – miserable – in this relationship,” He said your name, running a finger through his already unkempt hair. “I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not. Propose, settle down, get married – I can’t do it. I don’t see a future with you anymore. Please, you can’t tell me you haven’t felt the same!”

“No! I can’t!” You didn’t sound like yourself. You sounded sad, broken, out of breath, completely terrified. You thought your life with Bruce was going very well. You loved him, and he loved you. Yeah, okay, maybe he had some more work to take care of as of late, but that didn’t warrant a breakup. Did it? “We – we’ve been so happy, Bruce!”

“Fuck – I don’t love you anymore! This, this – this relationship is killing me here! I can’t keep on doing this, can’t wake up and pretend to be your Brucie, or a family man, or God forbid, someday your husband!” Bruce was fighting hard to keep his emotions away from this. Instead, he channelled all that energy into pretending to be angry with you. He put all the anger he felt towards the outside world and every criminal in Gotham, into this fake argument.

And by the look of your face, he was doing a good job.

“How… How long have you been doing this?” You whispered. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer. Weren’t sure if you wanted to know how long your husband had been betraying you, sleeping with some other woman. Or women. It made you nauseous just to think of that.

“I…”

“Just tell me, Bruce!”

Bruce sighed, looking away.

“Three months.”

A choked sob was ripped from your throat, and you grabbed the nearest thing – a shoebox – raising it above your head. There were a million thoughts racing through your head, a million emotions plaguing your mind. But before you could throw the damned box at his head, you ran into the nearest bathroom, puking your guts out.

The whole situation made you nauseous alright.

As soon as you’d puked whatever you had to, you got up, washing your mouth and your teeth. Then, you turned to Bruce. He was standing in the middle of your bedroom, looking at you with a mixture of sorrow, disgust, and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

You couldn’t stare at him any longer.

“I’d appreciate it if you left the Manor until the end of the day,” he said, looking at the ground. “I would like the master bedroom to be clean of your things.”

How could he speak like this? How could he say all of this after everything you two shared? Every word, every kiss, every touch? Had it not meant anything to him? Clearly not, by the way he was behaving.

You wiped your tears (unsuccessfully, since they just kept on rolling down your cheeks), and walked towards your closet, proceeding to stuff your clothes inside the suitcase. Just as you were about to shut your first suitcase, Bruce interrupted you.

“I’ll have someone else take to you the rest of your things. Just take that right now.”

You stood up, turning to him. First, he cheated on you, then he admitted to not loving you, then he broke up with you, and now he was kicking you out at full force.

You sneered.

“Where the hell am I supposed to stay, then? I live here.”

“Lived. Not live. You don’t live here anymore. Just get a hotel room somewhere, I’ll pay for it. But you have to go.”

“Why? So you can go back to fucking your new girlfriend?”

“Precisely.” The bite in his words shocked you.

There were no words. No words beside three little things you’d never thought you’d utter at the man standing before you.

“I hate you. I hate you, Bruce Wayne.” You said, tears cascading down your cheeks and marring your so lovely face. “Everyone warned me about you, but I didn’t listen. I was too in love with you to care about what anyone said.”

Bruce still refused to meet your gaze. He was sure that if he did, he’d break down too. And he was close, too close to let all of this go to waste.

“Should’ve listened to them.” You whispered.

And walked out, suitcase in hand.

“Alfred, make sure you take her – “

“I’ll see to it myself, thanks. I don’t need your help.”

With these words, you were out the door, and out of Bruce’s life.

As soon as you were no longer in vision, Bruce broke down.

He sat on his bed, hiding his face in his hands. You were truly gone. Forever. He’d done what he had to, and now you were gone. It was for the best, yeah, but that’s not to say it didn’t hurt.

Alfred quietly walked into the room. The sight of his boss leaning forward, looking absolutely miserable was a low blow. Finally, he’d found a source of happiness, of peace, of solace. Finally, he’d get to see his boy grow up, start his own family.

But all of that was over now.

He wouldn’t be there to walk you down the aisle and congratulate Bruce on his wedding day. He wouldn’t be there to see him drop to his knees when he found out you were carrying his child. He wouldn’t get to teach Bruce all the little hacks he learned from caring for him as a baby, wouldn’t get to tell your child the charming love story his parents had.

Master Wayne was miserable before you.

He was sure he’d get worse now.

“Master Wayne, I’ve sent Miss Roberts on her way.” He said quietly, standing on the doorway.

“Did you pay her?”

“Yes.”

“Enough?”

“She won’t tell a soul.”

The two men remained in silent for a while. Alfred did not know what to say. He understood where Bruce was coming from. He’d tried to talk some sense into his young master’s head, but to no avail – Bruce was going through with this madness and that was it. He’d tried telling him it wouldn’t matter; you loved him and would remain by his side forever, but he wouldn’t hear it.

In his head, this was the only solution.

“She’s going to be fine,” Bruce mumbled, dropping his hands, and looking at the ground.

“You’ve broken her heart, sir.” Alfred replied.

“She’ll be fine, Alfred,” Bruce retorted harshly. “She’ll go on with her life, forget about me, and she will be safe and that’s why we’re doing this – so she’s safe!”

The older man closed his mouth. There was nothing else he could do or say. It was done, and there was no turning back.

“Will you be fine, Master Wayne?” he asked at last.

Bruce did not answer right away. He shook his head, and Alfred swore he could make out the shape of his shoulders shaking ever so slightly – was he crying?

After a few moments, Bruce finally managed to calm himself. He took a deep breath, quickly wiped away any tears that might’ve escaped, and nodded, still avoiding his butler’s gaze.

“I will be. All that matters is that she’s safe. I’ll learn to be fine.”

“Is there anything you wish, sir?”

“No, you’re dismissed.”

And so, Alfred walked away, leaving Bruce to think the last few minutes over.

He’d lost you, sure.

But he would keep an eye on you from afar. Protect you from a distance. Make sure you were doing alright and that no harm had come to you. He’d be a silent protector.

And although he was hurting, he would bottle up his emotions.

Nothing else mattered, as long as you were safe.

But keeping tabs on you had proved to be quite harder than what Bruce expected.

You’d gone completely off the map, off-grid. You’d forsaken social media and most electronics and were doing a fantastic job of keeping away from his prying eyes. He knew for a fact you’d left Gotham, but to where, he did not know exactly. His sources told him you’d probably changed your identity, not wanting to be seen as Bruce Wayne’s ex-girlfriend anymore, wanting a life of your own.

At first, Bruce was terrified.

If you changed your identity and moved away, how was he supposed to protect you? This whole thing was meant to keep you safe – how was he supposed to live without knowing if all of his and your suffering had been in vain?

“Master Wayne, I understand your concern for the Miss’s well-being.” Alfred had told him one night as Bruce was drowning his sorrows in some very-expensive liquor. “But sometimes, we must respect the choices people make for their own safety.”

“What if something happens to her, Alfred?” Bruce asked, voice raspy from exhaustion and the drink. “What if she’s in danger and I can’t reach her? What if this whole thing was for nothing?”

“Sir, part of caring for someone is respecting their decisions. Dr. Jonathan Crane is long gone, and you yourself told me the information he had died with him. There is no one after you or the ones you love anymore. And most important, there is no one after her. If she’s changed her name, it only means she’ll be safer.”

Bruce sighed. Alfred was right to some extent – as he usually was. Crane was dead, and he hadn’t told anyone about you. Changing your name and your identity would probably keep you even safer.

“I loved her, Alfred. I still do.”

“I know, Master Wayne. I did too.” Alfred sighed, placing a comforting hand on the young man’s shoulder. “But you did what had to be done, now, didn’t you? You said it yourself. She is safe, and that’s all that matters.”

Bruce tried to follow that mentality.

For months, he tried to forget you.

Unfortunately, not only had you wormed your way into his heart, you’d done the same thing to his mind. He would wake up in the middle of the night sometimes, swearing he could feel your lingering touch, hear your heavenly voice.

During meetings, all he could think of was how you’d usually send him funny texts and memes you found on your lunch breaks. He no longer got your calls, telling him all about the gossip you’d heard at your workplace, and how much you missed him.

The manor felt empty without your touch, your laughter, your presence. Just the mere existence of your toothbrush was enough to calm him down, to remind him you were there, and real, and his.

But he was left with nothing.

You’d gone, and with you, taken his heart.

And yet, despite all the pain, all the heartbreak, life went on.

Days passed; seasons changed.

The daily cycle continued, interrupted.

The sun rose and the sun set, a small reminder that life waited for no one. Alfred told him many times that he couldn’t dwell on the past, and while he tried to, it was hard.

Winter became spring, spring became summer.

And Bruce Wayne’s heart remained unmended.

He tried to move on – really, he did. But he wasn’t quite sure he’d achieved it. He didn’t think of you as much anymore, but he also didn’t think of much else. It was as if he was numb to the outside world, going about his daily routine as Bruce Wayne and his nightly duties as Batman automatically.

It was as if he was on autopilot. Charity galas were boring without you to make fun of everyone, fundraisers sucked if you couldn’t talk to whoever was interesting and get him to have a good time.

Life went on, but it was as if his had paused.

Alfred did his best to keep him in check. Did not allow him to go without any meals, made sure he attended whatever events he had to, and patched him up after rough patrols. He too missed your presence but knew better not to mention it to his boss. All he wanted was for the young master to go back to the person he once was.

One day, he was on his way to Wayne Enterprises. It was late in the morning, but as the CEO of the company, he could afford to be late once or twice. Not only that, but it was also only natural for Bruce Wayne to be fashionably late – even if it was to his own job.

The car suddenly came to a halt. Something underneath Bruce seemed to deflate, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Alfred?” he asked, closing his newspaper.

“I’m sorry sir, there seems to be something wrong with the tires. Perhaps you could go out and check?” The butler replied with a cheeky grin.

“Don’t I pay you enough for that?”

“Not nearly, sir.”

“How unfortunate. Well, I’m quite comfortable here, so why don’t you check it yourself?”

Alfred nodded with a small smile and exited the car.

After around 5 minutes, he looked inside the limo and sighed.

“I’m sorry sir, but we have a flat tire. But we also don’t have a spare one in the trunk, so I’ll have to call someone.”

“Really?”

“Really, sir. I’m sorry.”

Bruce shook his head, waving his newspaper dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just go by foot.”

“Are you sure, sir? It’s still a few blocks away. Perhaps we should wait until someone comes to fix it. And what if something happens to you?”

Bruce gave his butler a pointed look, raising an eyebrow, to which the older man just sighed.

“Alright, fine, you stubborn, stubborn man.”

Bruce chuckled and exited the limo, quickly making his way down the street.

It would be good, clear his head of all the torment. Walking gave him peace, made his mind feel at ease. It was as if a burden as lifted off his shoulders, even if momentarily.

Unfortunately, this respite did not last long.

He was busy looking around himself – eyes trailing the balconies of older Gotham buildings, taking in every person, every door, every window, every life that lives inside each apartment – to notice the figures before him.

But once he was content with the things he’d seen (and decided to organise some sort of charity event, since his city needed him, especially the older streets, with decaying buildings and lives he were sure must be hanging by a thread), he looked up.

And what he saw stole his breath away.

You were standing a few meters away from him, pointing at a shopwindow that had caught your eye. A friend stood by your side; arm linked with yours. He couldn’t care less about her, eyes focused on you, on the big summer hat resting on top of your head and providing shade to your face, on the beautiful smile you wore, on the way your lips moved as you spoke animatedly, on the lovely white dress you adorned.

But most importantly, his eyes were focused on the pretty swell of your belly, and on how one of your hands cupped it lovingly, and the other trailed circles on top of it. He eyed the swell of your breasts that had grown larger, the way your entire being seemed to glow. Not from the sun, just entirely from you.

Bruce stopped dead in his tracks.

You were back. Back in Gotham, back in his life, back to him.

Don’t be an idiot – surely, she’s not back for you.

And how beautiful you looked, hand protectively over your belly. How dazzling, how breathtaking, how shining.

Without even realising it, Bruce stepped forward, eyes glued on your figure. You didn’t seem to notice him, still paying attention to the store in front of you. He could make out the small chatter you were having with your friend – and how much he’d missed the sound of your voice, the lovely musicality of your laughter – it made him feel lighter, fuller, happier.

“I like the blue one,” you said, turning to your friend, “And it’s rather big, so I’m sure he’ll grow into it.”

Your friend seemed to agree with you, “It’ll last for a few months, yeah. But the yellow one is pretty too, don’t you think?”

“Please. A Batman onesie? The last thing I want is my son to wear one of those. He won’t even know who he is, anyway, it’s not like I’m raising him here.” You scoffed.

The girl you were with chuckled, and only then did she notice Bruce, standing far too close.

“Um,” she poked your arm, and you turned to him.

It was as if the whole world faded away.

Your whole story played on your head. Your first meeting, spilling coffee all over his shirt, having a coffee bought by him, the countless dates you went on, dating, moving in together, living what you thought were your happiest years ever, getting proposed to, and eventually finding your husband fucking someone else.

You quickly dropped your gaze to your stomach before looking at him once again and taking a step back. It was stronger than you, an instinct to get away from this man as soon as possible.

"Hey," the words were tumbling out of Bruce's mouth before he could control himself.

When you didn't reply, he took another step forward, making you step back again.

"I have nothing to say to you," you mumbled, looking at your friend. You whispered a quick "let's go” to her and turned on your back to leave. Before you could do it, the man called out your name. You could hear the desperation in his voice, the worry, the heartbreak, the grief.

Tch, you thought, what is there for him to grieve? You're the one who lost your relationship, your home, the chance for your child to meet his father.

"Please, listen to me," he said, and you saw in his face such vulnerability it scared you. You didn't remember the last time you'd seen Bruce like this, face looking as if he was holding on by a threat.

You were that thread, Bruce thought to himself.

"Did you not hear her?" Your friend came to your rescue, hand protectively over your shoulders. "She doesn't want to talk to you. Now leave it."

Bruce wondered if she knew him. If she knew what he'd done. Had you told anyone? Had you kept it a secret? Might've been hard to do so – after all, tabloids had loved to exploit his breakup, plastering it all over every cover of ever magazine in Gotham. He'd paid them off to spare you from the spotlight and public eye, but it was too late. People had already begun talking; and what they were saying wasn't polite at all.

"You need to listen to me," he said softly, "You need to listen to what I have to say."

What was he doing? What was he saying? He shouldn't even be talking to you, should be keeping his distance like he'd been doing the past few months. His head told him to stay away – to turn around, go back to the pain and the sulking and the sleepless nights between empty sheets. But his heart was reaching towards you, hoping so desperately that you'd reach out too and save him from the torment he'd been living.

He knew he had no right doing this. He'd hurt you terribly – but it'd been for a good reason, no? He'd kept you safe long enough, hadn't he?

Was it selfish of him to want you back?

Because he did – desperately so. He missed your warmth and your touch. He missed your smiles in the morning and your giggles in the evening. He missed the way you scrunched your nose whenever you took a sip out of his coffee – black with one sugar. He missed the way you walked around with nothing but his shirts on when Alfred was out, teasing him to no end and relishing in the way Bruce's breath hitched when his eyes landed upon you.

But most of all, he missed the way you always comforted him and promised everything would be alright. He missed your tender touch and your warm embrace. Missed your love, and the effect it had on him.

He needed you back.

That much was certain, and he had no doubts about it.

He couldn't bear to be without you any longer. He would keep you safe – God damn it, he would, even if it was the last thing he ever did, but he couldn't be without you anymore. He couldn't live his days inside a Manor that seemed so dull without your shine, eat at a table that seemed so quiet without your chatter, and sleep in a bed that seemed so cold without your body next to his.

Your voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"There's nothing you could say to me that I would possibly want to listen," you said. But your heart was hammering in your chest, and you were sure if he were to strain his ears just a bit, he'd listen to how fast it was racing. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have places to be."

Bruce's heart fell. He was about to lose you again. He couldn't. His hand dropped to yours, and he held it tightly in between his palms.

"Please," he all but begged, "Just listen to what I have to say. And if you don't care about it, if you don't like what you hear, if you want to go, I'll let you."

"I don't care. Happy? Now let me go."

"Please."

The way he said it made your heart churn. His face was the epitome of heart break, eyes sagged, with deep dark bags under them. You knew Bruce hardly got any sleep as Batman, but this seemed too much. And there was something about the way he looked at you, as if you were some sort of mirage that could disappear within seconds.

You couldn't quite tell what it was. Perhaps it was your hormones feeling nostalgic. Perhaps it was curiosity, making you wonder what the hell he had to say to you that's so important.

Your brain yelled at you though, telling you to stay away from him. This man had ruined your life, used you and thrown you aside. You had no use for him. You deserved better.

And yet, your heart still yearned for him. You couldn't lie – as soon as you laid your eyes on him, it did a little flip, at it usually did.

As it used to do. Not anymore. You're not his anymore.

"Fine," you mumbled, shaking your head. "But not now. I'm busy."

"Yes, yes, of course," he said, nodding desperately. "When can you meet me? Tomorrow? Is tomorrow okay? Is it too soon?"

It's not soon enough, you thought. You really did not have anything else to do today but thought it better not to tell him. You couldn't give him all you wanted at once – you were afraid your poor heart couldn't take it.

Still, something inside you couldn't hide how much your heart still wanted him.

"Tomorrow is fine."

"Great, great. 4 in the afternoon? I could have Alfred pour us something? Maybe a few biscuits?"

It was endearing, how desperate he seemed to get you to sit with him. It was cute.

Stop it. He's not "cute", he ruined your life and tossed you aside. You just want closure. That's it – closure. That's all you want from him.

"Fine. Can I go now?" You asked, before shaking your head and rephrasing. "I'll be going now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait – Should I send for a driver?"

"Unless the Manor has disappeared and teleported somewhere else, I think I can manage." Saying this, you walked away, leaving Bruce at a loss for words, mouth gaping like a fish. There you were, in front of him, and just as quickly as he'd spotted you, you were gone. You were every bit as beautiful as he remembered you. He thought of your pregnant belly, and a shiver ran down your spine.

Whose baby was that? Was it his? Were you carrying another man's child? And why were you back in Gotham? Whatever reason it was, he silently thanked the heavens. It'd brought you back to him, and that's all that mattered. With a newfound sense of determination, Bruce ran back to his limo, where Alfred was still waiting for someone to fix his tire.

"Call the company," he exclaimed, out of breath and panting as he reached the older man. "Cancel all my meetings. Today's and tomorrow's."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. What the hell did his boss get into this time?

"May I ask why, sir?"

Bruce beamed.

"We have company."

Alfred had mixed emotions about you coming to visit.

On one hand, he was more than glad to see you. He missed you terribly, his book club pal, his gossiper, his nearly adoptive daughter. He looked forward to hugging you again, speaking to you, asking you how you were doing and learning how these past few months had been going for you.

On the other hand, he was positively mortified. He knew Bruce hadn't dealt very well with your absence, and he was afraid of what his young master might do now that you were here and willing to listen to him. And what would he say anyway? He knew Bruce was suffering and had never stopped loving you, but he didn't expect for him to actually try and win you back as soon as he laid eyes on you.

Sighing, he adjusted the tray on top of the kitchen counter, smiling when he heard the doorbell. Walking towards the entrance, he fixed his tie – he too wanted to look presentable for his favourite young lady – and opened it. Your sight was enough for his smile to grow wider. He took you all in, and his eyes got larger as he spotted the large bump on your stomach.

"Hey Alfred," you said, sporting a soft smile and another summer dress – this one, light green.

"Hello Miss." He replied, tears in his eyes. It made him emotional, you with your hands slowly supporting your growing stomach. He'd wanted to see this sight for so long, and while it was endearing, and you looked radiant, it was also heartbreaking that he hadn't been there to see most of it, and that neither had Bruce.

The very same question passed through his head: Whose baby were you carrying?

"You've got room for a plus one?" You asked, eyes dropping to your stomach.

"I think we can manage."

You walked inside, and hugged Alfred tightly close to you. You too saw him as family, and it had broken your heart to cut contact with him. At first, you thought about keeping his phone number and calling him occasionally; but after learning how everyone wanted to get their eyes on you, you decided that perhaps it was for the best if you ceased contact completely.

"I missed you so much, Miss. The Manor is not the same without you," he whispered, rubbing your back comfortingly.

"I missed you too, Alfred," you replied, tears forming in your eyes aswell. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I'm so sorry, I – "

"It's alright, Miss." He pulled away, looking into your eyes with that kind, warm, parental gaze of his, "I understand. I'm just glad I got to see you again."

With this, he led you towards the living room, where Bruce was already, pacing back and forth. It almost made you chuckle – big bad Bat by night, reckless playboy by day Bruce Wayne was pacing circles inside his living room, visibly worried sick.

"Master Wayne," Alfred said, signalling your arrival.

Bruce looked up and you'd think you had just offered him the cure to eternal life or something by the way his gaze held yours.

"Hey," he said, walking towards you, but thinking better of it and standing a few steps away from you. He held forward his hand, hoping that you'd somehow shake it. You did not, and he dropped it.

"Would you like something to drink? Alfred prepared coffee."

"I don't drink coffee. It makes me nauseous." You softly placed your hands on your stomach, and Bruce got the hint immediately,

"Yes – yes, of course. I'm sorry." He mumbled, running a hand through his hair. By the look of it, tousled and unkempt, you figured he'd been doing that quite a lot for at least the past half hour. "Is there anything else you'd like, though? A cup of water, perhaps some tea?"

"Tea would be fine, thank you." You turned to look at Alfred when you said these words, although Bruce could tell immediately they weren't for him by the way your voice was coated in sugar – something he knew he hadn't earned just yet. "You still know my favourite?"

"Of course, Miss," Alfred nodded politely with a smile, "I'll get it for you right away," and made his way towards the kitchen.

You and Bruce remained in silence for a while before he seemingly broke out of a trance.

"Please, do sit down."

You did so, carefully tucking a pillow behind your back, you stretched your legs ever so slightly and sighed in relief, hands resting on top of your stomach. "There, there", you mumbled, "All comfy, aren't we?"

Bruce eyed you and your stomach. There were so many things he wanted to ask you, and yet he did not know where to begin. Should he address the elephant in the room? Should he let you speak about it? What if you did not want to talk about it? Maybe the child wasn't even his – you could've moved on and started a life without him. He has no right to ask.

"You're looking..." he began. You waited for a continuation, and it surely came, seconds after. "Beautiful. Radiant."

"Thank you," was your polite response. You looked around the room – nothing had changed. Still the same paintings up on the walls, still the same portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne holding a very tiny and very happy Bruce, still the same scent of lavender and books.

Still home.

"How have you been?" he asked, sitting down on the couch positioned next to yours, and trying his best to relax.

"How have I been?" you repeated. He wanted to catch up? Really? As if everything you had together in the past had meant nothing?

"Yes," he nodded, gesturing towards yourself. "How have you been these past few months?"

You scoffed. Fine. If he wanted to do this, then he would see it through until the very end.

"Oh, I'm doing just fine, Bruce." You said, venom evident in your words, dripping off them. "In fact, these last few months have been the jolliest of my life. The man I was in a relationship with, who's also the man who had proposed to me broke up because he said he did not love me anymore, and was fucking some random woman when I walked in on him, then he kicked me out of our home, had to go live in a hotel room for a few weeks before I finally got a place far, far away from his prying eyes, cutting edge technology and vigilante alter ego, then I have to deal with gossip magazines wanting to photograph my face and get some sort of statement from me, going as far as to trying to break into my house just to find out what truly happened."

Bruce winced at the harshness of your words. You'd had some terrible couple of months, clearly, and he didn't know what to say.

"But hey! How have you been, Bruce? How's life?" You were being sarcastic – that much was evident, and although he did deserve every ounce of cruelty you gave him, it also hurt.

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "You can't imagine just how sorry I am... And how much I regret what happened."

"Ah," you sneered, twisting your face in disgust, "Is this why you invited me here? Because you regret hooking up with whoever that was back then? Got into a mess you couldn't undo? Miss me, oh so much, and need me back?"

Each word was like a dagger being plunged into Bruce's heart. Had heartbreak turned you so bitter?

No, not bitter. You were right, after all.

"I'm sorry," he said your name softly, sighing deeply. "I need to tell you something."

"And I'm sure I can't wait to hear whatever it is." You scoffed. Alfred quickly entered the living room, placing a tray with two mugs on the coffee table in front of you. He carefully handed you one of them, before walking away. Bruce's nose scrunched. Ouch.

"Thank you," you smiled at the butler, took a sip out of the mug, and sighed contentedly. "This man makes the best tea I've ever drank."

"He really does. But as I was saying, I need to tell you something."

"Bruce, I don't want to hear sob stories. I didn't come here to hear you whine and moan and complain about your life. I'm sure you suffered a lot, but I am not really interested." There you went again, sarcasm coming naturally to you and your words.

"I just need to tell you what really happened."

Another sneer.

"I saw what really happened Bruce. Stop it with the bullshit."

"Just – " Bruce took another deep breath. "Please. Just listen to me without any interruptions, please. If you want to scream at me and yell and slap me and punch me after, then that's okay."

"Tempting."

"But please, just let me speak."

"Okay."

Bruce looked at you in surprise. Okay? Just like that? So willingly?

"That's why I came here, isn't it? Please get it over with."

The man before you nodded. He wasn't going to sugarcoat things. It was time for you to know the truth.

"Back when we were engaged," he began, "There was this one night I went on patrol. And everything was going fine, until I ran into Crane."

You furrowed your brows. "Crane?" Then, you remembered what he'd said about interrupting, and muttered a quick "Sorry, go on."

"I ran into Crane."

It was almost as if Bruce could see the whole thing playing before him. The darkness of the night, the faint smell of the Scarecrow's fear toxin, the one he was immune to. It was all so clear in his mind – after all, that night was the beginning of the end.

"He started talking to me. Trying to get into my head, as he usually did. But that time was different. He... He started talking about me, my own personal life, my identity. And then he mentioned you." His gaze fell on you, and you were met with hopelessness and despair. It was heart-wrenching.

"He knew you. Knew you, he knew who you were, knew who I am. He threatened to tell Arkham City residents our identities. He threatened to hurt you if I didn't help him."

Your face was pale with worry.

"And what did you do? You didn't help him, did you? It's Crane!"

"The GCPD intervened and killed him on the spot. Some rookie officer convinced it was the best thing to do. Crane was holding a phone in his hand when he died. It contained files, files about all those close to me. I got to delete everything just before he sent it."

You listened attentively. No one had ever gotten as close to unmask Bruce. Well, no one until Crane. You had heard of his death, but only thought it was a good thing that such a criminal was out of the streets.

"And I..." Bruce hesitated. This was the hard part, telling you what he'd done, the hard choice he'd made. "I thought... It was unthinkable to lose you. I just couldn't. Crane had gotten too close. I was terrified darli – " he quickly corrected himself, switching to your name. "I couldn't lose you... I barely slept that night, thinking of what could've happened to you."

In your face, Bruce could see some recognition. Were you putting the pieces together? Did you know?

"I thought..." he continued, "I thought I had to keep you safe. And in my mind, you'd never be safe if you were with me. As long as you were associated with Bruce Wayne, you'd be in constant danger."

"No..." you mumbled, shaking your head,

"And you're so stubborn..." Bruce's eyes shed with unshed tears, voice carrying an amount of emotion you weren't familiar with. "You'd never listen to me. You'd stick by my side and argue that you loved me and didn't care about the danger..."

"You didn't..." you covered your mouth.

"So, the only plausible explanation was driving you away."

The tension shifted immediately in the room. Bruce couldn't tell what was going through your head, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"I paid someone to put on that little show with me, that day. I knew you were coming home early. It pained me so much to do it, I swear..."

"I can't believe this..." you stood up, attempting to do it quickly but failing because of your stomach. "I can't believe you would do that."

Bruce remained sitting, not wanting to distress you any further.

"Please, you have to understand – everything I did was for your protection."

"So you cheated on me to drive me away!?"

"We were going to get married! If you shared my name, you'd share your enemies, and I promised I would never drag you into my other life. I promised to keep you safe."

"Yeah!" You threw your arms up in the air in frustration. "So! You could've taught me martial arts! Gifted me a taser! Taught me how to throw a punch, give me a gun or something! Instead, you thought the brightest idea was to dump me?"

"It hurt like hell; it really did. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat – I was in hell without you." Bruce was getting desperate. This is not how he wanted things to go, not how he'd pictured it going. You were freaking out, understandably so, but some part of him was hoping you would understand. Would you ever?

"Why didn't you just talk to me?" You were getting angry now. This whole conversation was pissing you off.So Bruce had broken your heart because he wanted to protect you!? "We're two responsible adults, Bruce! You could've told me what happened."

"I couldn't. You would've never agreed to stay away from me."

"Exactly! Because I love you! I'd have stuck with you through thick and thin!"

Bruce was so engaged in the argument; he missed your slip. Love, not loved. Present tense.

"And that was precisely what I didn't want to happen! I didn't want to come home one night and found you dead on the ground or kidnapped! I was doing it all for you!"

"By breaking my heart."

"It had to be done."

"It didn't.

"I was thinking of you."

"How old are we, Bruce!? 16? 17? Why didn't you just talk to me?"

Alfred had tried to exit the perimeter. He didn't want to be anywhere near you two, but decided against that decision. Someone had to be able to step in and protect the young master. He was positive that given the chance, you'd throw something at him, and that was sure to leave a mark. He didn't doubt your abilities.

"I'm so sorry," Bruce pleaded, "But once again, please understand. I was just doing what i thought was best."

"You left me!"

"I was protecting you!"

"You left me, Bruce!" You yelled, unable to fight back your tears. Once again, you didn't know what got you so agitated. Maybe your hormones, maybe the lingering feelings you deep down still had for the man sitting down before you. "I loved you; I needed you by my side, and you left me! Because you thought someone was coming after me? You said it yourself – Crane did not send the files to anyone. We were safe. We were fine. And you went and destroyed everything we had because of some fear you had?"

It was Bruce's turn to stand up, defensively placing his hands in front of his chest.

"I couldn't lose you. Please, please, you have to forgive me. I was such an idiot, I shouldn't have done it, I know. I miss you – I miss you so much, I have for the past few months, I can't live without you."

"I couldn't live without you either and had to make do! I still have to!"

"There was an uncomfortable silence as the last few words hung in the air. It was then that Bruce decided to finally ask the question he'd been meaning to ever since he first saw you on the street.

"Is the child mine?"

You widened your eyes, looking away from him. Your hands instinctively went to your stomach.

"You have no right to ask that."

"Please. Just... Is it mine?"

You thought it over. There was no use in hiding it. The child would most likely grow up to look like him, bear his eyes and smile, scrunch his nose in the way his father did when confused. And for all it was worth, Bruce deserved to know. He wasn't a bad person, and you knew he'd be a good father.

"Yes," you mumbled, softly.

Bruce didn't hesitate to ask his next question.

"When did you find out?"

"A few days later. I was all by myself, and so scared, Bruce..." Sitting down, you looked at the floor, finding a sudden interest in examining your shoes. "It was the hardest thing I've ever done... Bearing this child all by myself, without you... As soon as my stomach started showing, I had to get out of here. Tabloids were going crazy, and I didn't want you finding out. I just wanted a normal life for him."

"Him?"

"Yeah. I know for sure, it's a little boy. I love him so much already..."

Bruce sighed, raking a hand through his hair. He knew he'd screwed things up the first morning he woke up without you by his side, but this was simply too much.

"I love you." The determination with which he said it took you by surprise. "I always have. I never stopped. I'm sorry for what I did. Fuck, I'm an idiot. I knew I would put you through hell, and I still did it because it would be the best for you. I'm so sorry."

These words did not fall on deaf ears. You were listening, hung up on every word. Bruce was right there, right in front of you, apologizing and confessing he still loved you. And didn't you love him back? Hadn't you spent countless nights crying over his absence, wishing it were his fingers wiping away the tears that refused to stop, wishing that he was there next to you the moment you realised you were pregnant, wishing he would hug you tightly, kiss your forehead and assure you everything would be fine? That it had all been a very bad nightmare and you were back at home with his body wrapped around yours?

"I... I don't know how I should feel," you said. Which was partially true. Some part of you did still love him, but he'd put you through too much heartache. You weren't about to just forgive him and kiss all his worries away and pretend nothing had ever happened. "You really hurt me, Bruce... I don't know if I can go through that again. What if someone else gets a hold of my information? Of your identity? Are you going to push me away again? Push our son away?"

Bruce looked at you, eyebrows furrowed, and in one quick motion, was down on one knee, hands desperately wanting to rest on top of yours. "I promise," his voice was soft, and it reminded you of your sweet Bruce, of the man you'd fallen in love with and were ready to love forever, "It won't happen again. I'll do better next time. Hell, there won't even be a next time. I promise. I can't live without you."

"Bruce, I... It's not as simple as that..."

"You don't love me anymore?"

"That's not what I said."

"So you do?" A hint of a smile.

"Gosh, Bruce, stop it! What you did was terrible – it destroyed me. Those were the worst months of my life, you have no idea how it felt to be me, alone and pregnant and scared! You can't just waltz back into my life and tell me you love me and are sorry. I don't trust you anymore. It's just not that simple."

"I understand."

Bruce sighed and stood up.

"I just wanted to tell you the truth, anyway. You deserve it. I'm really sorry for what I did."

Once again, you're basked in silence. This time, it was you who broke it, with a question of your own, one that had plagued you ever since he told you everything was staged.

"Did you sleep with her?" Your voice was meek, fragile. Did you want to know the truth?

"No." Bruce answered with determination. "We didn't have sex. I wasn't really naked."

Your eyes widened.

"I guess you were too mad to notice." He smiled sadly.

You looked away at the ground.

Somehow, it did make you a little more at ease that he hadn't really had sex with that woman. It didn't erase all of your pain but gave you some slight respite.

"Have you been with anyone, after..."

"No." He answered again. "There was never anyone else. Never could be. There was only just you. There's always been just you."

You nodded thoughtfully.

"Would you like to feel your son?"

"Huh?"

"He's kicking. Would you?"

Bruce gave you an enthusiastic nod and sat beside you, allowing you to guide your hands to the exact spot the baby was kicking him. Sure enough, he felt something press against his hand repeatedly. He chuckled, automatically leaning forward to feel it better.

"Hey there, little guy," he whispered. "I can't believe you're real."

You stood there for a while, him by your side, hand on top of your stomach. It felt weird, but in a comforting way. It was just you and Bruce and your unborn child, and you somehow felt like things were okay. Everything was fine.

"I've never stopped loving you either," you said after a while. Bruce turned to you, allowing you to speak. "When I found out I was pregnant, all I wanted was to call you, let you know we were finally going to be parents...

"I can't promise that things will return immediately to the way they were. I can't promise I won't be mad at you, because I am, I really am."

You shifted in your seat to face him better. Your eyes trailed his face; how you missed it. The lovely cheekbones you loved to trace on lazy Sunday afternoons, the forehead you loved to kiss on clingy mornings. He looked just as bit as handsome as he did the last time you'd seen him. His eyebags were deeper and more sagged, but that didn't stop him from being the most handsome man you had ever laid your eyes upon.

"But... I'm willing to try."

Bruce's head shot up.

What?

"You really hurt me, Bruce. I thought I’d never be happy again, thought my life would be ruined forever. I thought I'd lost the love of my life." Your voice failed. "But... although your idea was just terrible, you might have had the best intentions in mind. I just... Wish you'd have spoken to me first."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It killed me inside, it really did. But everything I do has always been for you. You must know that. Must know that every decision I take, good or bad, light or not, is always with you in thought." This time, Bruce did not avert his gaze. He was done looking away, done hiding, done being without you. Should this be the last time he ever saw you, he lingered on your face, committing it to memory. Your pretty eyes, the beautiful shape of your nose, your slightly parted lips. Had anyone ever been this beautiful?

"I know," you replied, giving him hope. "Which is why... Why I'm..." It took a deep breath and a few circles rubbed on top of your stomach to calm you down. This was a huge decision to make. Allowing Bruce back into your life could either be the greatest thing you would do, or possibly the worst. There was no middle-ground, and it scared you. You needed a middle-ground, needed a safety net, needed something that did not put your unborn son's life at risk.

And yet... You couldn't help but still want Bruce. You knew it. Your heart knew it. It still beat for him as loudly as it did the first time he'd kissed you, the time he'd asked you to be his, the first time you woke up with him by your side. You knew his intentions were good. His idea was terrible – fucking terrible – and it had only cost you pain and sadness. But you also knew Bruce made reckless decisions when it came to you. He was in love, and he was extremely protective. He had no one aside from Alfred and you and knew damn well he couldn't get rid of the old butler even if he tried; but would try his hardest to get rid of you if it only meant you got to live another day.

It was both endearing and soul-crushing, as things often were with Bruce.

"Which is why I'm willing to give you another chance."

Bruce released a sigh of release, and dropped his head to his hands, unable to say a word.

"Again, I can't promise I'll forgive you over night. I've just had the worst few months of my life. I won't fall back into your arms immediately. But I want to give you a chance to make things right."

It was only when you saw his shoulders shake, that you realised Bruce was sobbing. You placed a tentative hand on his shoulder and felt him shake his head.

"Bruce?" you asked, "Please talk to me, are you alright?"

He looked up at you and smiled. You quickly realised they were tears of joy.

"I love you so, so much. And I will spend every day of my life for as long as I shall live showing it. I'll make things right. I know I can't take back these past few months, and I know I can't magically take away the pain – nor can I wish for your forgiveness all at once. But I'll make it up to you. Forever. That is my promise to you. Because I love you. Fuck, it's insane how much I love how much I always have. You're my family, and I never want to be parted from you. Ever again."

He reached towards your face, his fingers wiping away something wet. Were you crying? Surely tears of joy too.

"I love you too, Bruce. I never really stopped."

He nodded and leaned closer to your face, eyes dropping to your lips. It was a small question, but he wanted to be sure.

"Is this okay? Can I?" he asked, eyes never leaving your mouth. "Please?" The last question was whispered so softly, you were actually not sure if you'd actually heard it, or just imagined it.

You replied in kind.

"Please."

And without missing a beat, he pressed his lips against yours.

His kiss was familiar. It felt like home. Bruce kissed slowly, taking his time. He was learning you all over again, tongue playfully fighting with yours. His hand cupped your cheek, and he brought you closer to him. It felt nice, it felt familiar, it felt like home.

You still perfectly in his arms, and the thought made Bruce smile into your kiss, pouring even more of himself into it. You gave back tenfold, pressing against him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You missed this. Missed him. Missed not knowing where you ended and he began, missed feeling the soft beat of his heart against your chest, missed the soft groans that rumbled in his chest, missed being enveloped by him.

When you two eventually parted for air, he did not rest, kissing every inch of your face, until you were smiling and giggling and holding his face in place so you could look him in the eye.

"I love you." You spoke.

"I love you too," he replied, before caressing your stomach. "I promise I'll be here for him. I love him so much already. I'll spoil this boy rotten, give him everything he ever needs."

You smiled.

Your life had taken quite a nasty turn after Bruce had "cheated" on you and dumped you. Back then, you thought it was merely because he was, after all, the billionaire playboy everyone accused him of being. Now, you knew it was only because he loved you more than anything and wanted to keep you safe. Yes, he had hurt you, and you wouldn't forget that so easily – but it had still been an action out of love.

You'd been so lost the day you found out you were pregnant, crying on the bathroom of a hotel, clutching your stomach, and feeling like shit.

But right now, with Bruce by your side, his hands on your stomach and cheek, and his eyes regarding you with such tenderness, such warmth, you knew all would be fine.

You'd finally found each other again.

A/N: Whew!!!! We made it!!! Yay!!!! Okay so, in case you've made it this far and are interested to find out what the hell happened to me, just keep on reading!

So, as I mentioned before, I just got back to uni. It's killing me. It's kicking my ass. I've been sleeping less than 5 hours per day, and am currently losing my sanity. I don't have the time to sleep, to study, to write. There's so much to do and it's only the second week, and I'm really sorry for the delay, but things have been hectic. I can't remember the last time I slept more than like, 5 hours.

So, this fic is a bit longer than my other 200 Followers Event one. Here's the thing: I got a lovely request from @xxemmarldxx, but in my mind, it was far too big, and far too ambitious for a short 2/3k word drabble (which was the point of my event). So I told her I would do it properly some other time, because it was just too good, but would end up being way too big.

A few days later, I get this request. And they're very similar. Like, really, really similar. So I was like "You know what. Let's combine them. How about we combine the two, and write a big ass drabble the way I wanted to?"

This is the result. I've been writing this for the past week, and to be fair, it was KILLING ME. I was writing in every possible break, using every free space possible to get a few words in, and at some point, I started seeing it more as a "chore" than something I wanted to do. It became "the fic I need to finish", sort of like a burden. And it's not the requesters fault!!! It's just, I was so busy that, in the middle of everything, I couldn't find joy in writing because I was so stressed.

I'm sorry if this piece is bad. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I think I've done much better in the past, and this is not my best work. The word count got away from me and by the end I was just freaking out because I couldn't write anymore. And that was a real bummer because I love writing and I loved this request so much.

I hope you guys liked reading it and enjoyed it! I really do! I think that for a while I won't be able to write Bruce hahaha, I got a bit tired.

Anyways, I hope you're all having an amazing day!!! <3

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #nolanverse #the dark knight fanfiction #the dark knight fanfic #nolanverse fanfiction #bruce wayne fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batman x reader #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader

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ddejavvu · 11 months

Note

Mei!! You’re one of my fav writers!

Can you do a fratboy!Hotch x reader with the typical date to bet trope but then he sees reader on a case with the BAU years later and tries to get reader back??

thank you so much!!! i liked this request sm actually this was so neat <3

"Excuse me," A voice calls from behind you, deep and stern, "Are you Y/N Y/L/N?"

You turn at the counter, meeting the eyes of a man that looks eerily familiar. His dark hair matches his eyes, equally inky black. His nose is sharp, his brows set in a perpetual frown- that wasn't there 20 years ago. All at once his younger self floods back to you in memories you'd rather forget, and your chest tightens at the sight of Aaron Hotchner standing in front of you.

"I am," You nod once, "How may I help you?"

He seems just as floored by the sight of you as you are of him. Evidently, he hadn't remembered your name, not that you're surprised. He falls silent, eyes flooded with nostalgia, and his partner, a broad-shouldered man steps in when he doesn't.

"Uh, I'm Agent Derek Morgan with the FBI, and this is Agent Hotchner. we're looking for this man." He slides a photo over the counter of your cafe, a man you recognize having spoken to only hours prior, "Have you seen him?"

"I have," You nod, keeping your eyes firmly and pointedly off of Aaron, "He came in a few hours ago. He was- weird. He kept asking if he could make his own coffee. Like- come behind the counter and do it himself. He said no one else could make it right."

"What did he do when you refused?" Aaron pipes back up, and you study the picture instead of meeting his eyes.

"He knocked that table over," You point to the now right-side-up table, "It had some woman's drink on it, and a baby's bottle. And of course he didn't offer to mop up the spills. He just stormed out."

Agent Morgan nods, solemnity written on his face, "Alright, thank you for the information. Is there any chance we could get a look at your security cameras?"

"Of course," You step aside to let them pass, something you'd been asked to do twice in one day, and they file behind the counter towards the kitchen.

"They're behind the stoves," You call as Agent Morgan parts the curtain, "And one door past the bathroom!"

"Thank you," Agent Morgan calls, already headed for the room. Agent Hotchner lingers, and your stomach drops.

"Y/N," He calls cautiously, "Do you recognize me? We've met before."

"We've more than met," You scoff, "I don't think I could forget you if I tried, Aaron."

He tries taking it as a joke, rolling with the gut punch you've given him, "I wasn't sure. I've aged poorly, at least since we've last seen each other."

"You'd think I'd be the one stuck with frown lines," You grumble, flicking a crumb of what was probably a blueberry muffin off of the counter while avoiding his eyes.

"I'm glad you're not." Aaron murmurs, speaking to your back, "Y/N, I'm sorry for the way I treated you back then. I'm- a different person now. I was irresponsible and self-centered in college, and I'm sorry that you fell victim to that."

"I'm sure you wouldn't make the same mistake twice," You hum, noting that the pressed suits and neat hair are far different from the man you'd known in your Youth, "But I don't think I'd give you the chance to this time around."

He pauses, and you hear Agent Morgan in the back room, fiddling with your camera system. Finally he nods, you see it in your peripheral vision, "I understand. Um- thank you, for your help on this case. We're a lot closer to catching him with the footage I'm sure your cameras caught."

"I'm glad," You nod, "He was an asshole. Trust me, I've met a few before."

The comment stings like a whip, burning his cheeks and stabbing at his chest. He deserves it, or maybe past Aaron deserves it, but he wasn't lying. He's different now.

"You have. And I'm sorry. Really, I- I wish I could go back in time. And not take that money. And not make that bet. You were worth far more than money, and you still are."

"I appreciate your apology," You admit, finally glancing him in the eye. It's only for a split second, then Agent Morgan re-emerges, "I never thought I'd get one."

"Me either," Aaron breathes, and you watch Agent Morgan's eyes flicker between the two of you, "Well, um, thank you. For your help. It was nice to see you again, Y/N."

"I was happy to help. It was... nice. To see you too, Aaron. Agent Morgan," You nod at the man, who's studying you like a textbook, "I hope you can use the footage."

"It's perfect," He smiles, digging through his pocket and dropping a rumpled $20 into your tip jar, "Excellent service."

"Ah, thank you," You laugh, leaning against the counter as they make their way out towards the door, "FBI Agents eat free, if you find this guy anytime soon."

"Much appreciated," Agent Morgan grins, waving goodbye as Aaron smiles. It's real, genuine, and something you thought you'd never see again, if the ones you'd seen in your youth even were real or genuine.

"So," Morgan drawls as soon as the doors to the coffee shop shut, "You two know each other?"

"We met in law school." Aaron hums, tone clipped. When Morgan doesn't respond, Aaron admits gruffly, "We went out on a few dates."

"No way!" Morgan whoops, clapping Hotch on the back, "An old flame! Hey, Hotch, you gotta get her back! She said we eat free, head over tomorrow for breakfast."

"She's not interested," Hotch shakes his head, "She wouldn't be. Things ended... poorly."

"Aw, it's nothing you can't fix," Derek reasons, "Twenty years later? Hotch, I'm telling you, you gotta go see her. I'll bet you twenty bucks you can get a date with her first try."

Aaron tastes the bitter, metallic blood that coats his tongue from the puncture in his cheek. He stops dead in his tracks, hearing the ghost of his frat brothers in Derek's ill-timed statement.

"Hotch?" Morgan realizes he's stopped walking, glancing back at his Unit Chief with a frown, "You okay?"

Aaron takes one, two, three deep breaths, then buries his self-loathing deep inside, where it's lived for years and only recently bubbled back up to the surface.

"Don't say that." He orders, tone sharp and leaving no room for argument, "Stop. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

This time it's Morgan that stands frozen, dumbfounded, while Hotch powers on down the sidewalk. He reaches the SUV, storming to the driver's side door and slamming it behind him so hard that the car rocks.

"Jesus," Derek mumbles below his breath, "Garcia, you're gonna have a lot of digging on your plate to figure this one out."

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bugboioli23 · 3 months

Text

Swerve x Human!Reader

Disclaimer: I haven't written fic for a few years so my skills are gonna be a bit shit to be honest, any criticism is welcome and id love to hear what you guys think 💚

THIS IS 18+ - size difference, valveplug, oral sex, fingerfucking, doggy style, riding - 2911 words - AFAB reader but no pronouns are used

You and Swerve had been friends since you stepped foot on the Lost Light. Something about his chatterbox personality and sitcom-like humor had you beaming whenever you were around him. The best nights were spent perched on the edge of the bar counter, rambling for hours on end with Swerve. Tonight was one of those nights. It was after the doors had closed, the bar empty and silent aside from the laughter ricocheting from the both of you.

“Really?!” You yelped, eyes wide in surprise as you stared at the grinning minibot.

“I'm telling you! You wouldn't believe the amount of mechs who come by here asking for you!” Swerve replied with a chuckle, shaking his helm in shared disbelief. “Not only that but they actually think they could frag you! I'm probably one of the few bots on here who could frag you full sized.” Swerve paused, face freezing for a second as he quickly backtracked on his statement. “I mean- not that we would- NOT THAT I WOULDN'T WANT TO- I'm sure you’d make a lovely frag- NOT LIKE THAT- I JUST MEANT- im sorry- ” Swerve seemed to shrink in on himself as he continued to mumble to himself anxiously.

Your face burned red at the idea. The thought of a bot being stuffed between your folds, trembling at the foreign sensation of the wet flesh of your cunt. You wondered about the anatomy that laid hidden under the panels of your metallic friends. How similar are you compared to them? Just how compatible are your species? You already had gotten an enlightening talk from Brainstorm about Cybertronian anatomy after you explained human anatomy to him. (For his holoforms of course. No other reason.) You knew what you could take, but the fresh reality that this could happen left blood rushing south.

“Uhm… ____? You good? I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything. I should’ve kept my mouth shut, I’m sorry.” Swerve looked at you apologetically. His light pout and the puppy eyes you could barely see behind his visor brought forth images that made warmth surge through your body once more. How would Swerve act if you asked him to fuck you? He seemed like the type of Cybertronian who wouldn’t mind a little experimenting with humans. He seemed like the type to whimper; the type to beg.

Heat flushed through your face as reality caught back up to you. You flashed him a bright smile and waved your hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m alright. Just thinking.” You glanced at Swerve, who looked unconvinced. “Hey, weren’t you and Blurr going to open a bar before you came here?” You asked out of nowhere, hoping to turn his attention onto something else. It seemed to work because he was already telling you about how Blurr was secretly his best friend. While the bartender was distracted, you let your thoughts turn back to the ideas at hand. You found Swerve to be adorable, the way he seemed to always work with a smile despite people talking poorly about him. His fascination with your species’ tv and music and how he would light up when you offered another film for movie nights. After tonight’s conversation, you decided it’s now or never to shoot your shot with him.

“Swerve?” You looked him up and down with a smile, interjecting his speech on Blurr’s latest record break. “Do you think fragging a human would be possible?” You spoke sweetly, letting your voice fall an octave to emphasize your intentions.

“Uhm, wouldn't Ratchet be better at answering that than I would?” Swerve thought he was hearing things. In his mind there was no possible way that you just asked what you had asked. His head must've made that up. It had to be some kind of self inflicted auditory hallucination. The way you smiled softly and rested a hand on his arm before leaning closer must also be a trick of the optics.

“Swerve, darling. I asked you for a reason.” You replied coyly, glancing up at him with an endearing grin. He felt his intake hitch and a sliver of charge run down his frame.

“Oh.” He choked out, face tinted with the rush of energon. His cooling fans kicked on with just the mere suggestion of what tonight could entail. “I- I suppose we could- figure it out…” He grinned shyly.

“That’s a good mech.” You purred, wide grin never faltering as you hopped down from the counter. You sauntered out of the bar with a new sense of confidence, only pausing to gesture to him to follow before the doors closed behind you. Swerve had to take a minute to collect his thoughts before practically sprinting after you.

Your habsuite was uniquely modified for your species. Instead of a hard metal berth, you had a cushy soft bed adorned with a mass of plushies, pillows and blankets. Soft lighting glowed from lower points in the room instead of one harsh light from above. It had your special charm to it, and Swerve wanted to spend every moment he could in there with you.

“So,” You started plopping yourself down on the edge of your bed, patting the spot next to you, “I’m going to skip all the pleasantries here, I want you to fuck me.”

Swerve let out a whine, feeling a surge of arousal flooding through his systems. His spike pressurized quickly, becoming heavy behind his panels with an embarrassingly loud thud. “Did you have to be so bold about it?” He hissed through clenched dentae as you gazed at him with desire.

“I think it’s more fun to watch your reactions.” You hummed contentedly before climbing into his lap, “Can I kiss you? Would that be okay?” You spoke softly, but your eyes never left his face. Swerve nodded hastily, servos hovering above your body anxiously. His intake opened to start a flood of questions but you cut him off with a kiss, exploring the foreign texture of his pliable metallic face. The strange rubbery feeling of his glossa felt wonderfly new against the soft muscle of your tongue. You let out a soft noise of pleasure against his mouth before you were interrupted by a snap of panels retracting and an enticing pressure laying heavy on your thigh.

“Oh- Slag, sorry I- you’re so- I wasn’t able to-,” Swerve began, but you pressed a finger to his lips as you looked down to study the new part of him. It was about 8 inches long, the red tip of it already leaking prefluids. It was mostly white, with a stripe of red along the underside decorated with biolights which pulsed needily. You trailed your hand lightly along the length, your fingers barely unable to touch around the girth of it. You looked back up at Swerve who was hiding behind his servos, face tinted pink with energon.

“Listen… I know I’m not as big as other bots but please… don’t stop whatever you were planning to do.” Swerve mumbled shyly, peeking at you between his digits.

“Oh, hun. You don’t have to worry about anything. You’ve got more than enough for me to enjoy.” You smiled, sliding off his lap to kneel between his legs. “May I?” You asked, wanting to explore his anatomy further.

He let out a shaky exvent with a nod and you ran your fingers along the grooves and panels of the Cybertronian anatomy. It wasn’t until you had gotten eye level with his spike that you had noticed his valve. It was dripping with transfluid and the hooded node was glowing a beautiful blue. You looked up at him from your position, eyes full of lust.

“Change of plans. Lean back for me, I’ve gotta taste you.” You purred, firmly pushing against his midsection lightly as he rested his back against the wall of pillows. You gently pushed his thighs open and trailed two fingers against the slick folds of his valve, coating your fingers in the sticky substance. You studied your digits before popping them into your mouth. The pink fluid was metallic and sour, but addicting in a strange way. You wanted more. Spreading his folds with one hand, you delved into his valve. Swerve watched, entranced by the way you slid the flat of your tongue against him. The sensation made him let out soft groans, which encouraged you more. You took your other hand and gently circled his anterior node, ghosting the edges of it teasingly. Your tongue dove into his entrance and you felt the inner calipers twitch and throb with need.

“Oh frag… you’re good a-at this. I’m- hnghh… I don’t have enough stamina for t-this!” Swerve whined as you moved the hand separating his folds and you backed away from his plush valve.

“Don’t worry, you are doing so good. Just lie back and let me take care of you, okay?” You cooed and went back to lapping at the transfluid that fell from his folds. One hand finally gave his anterior node pressure while your other hand went up to stroke at his spike lazily. The result of your combined actions had Swerve clawing at the sheets, his intake falling open as he gasped and mewled out so many words you couldn’t tell what he was saying until it was too late.

Warm fluid gushed over your face as he overloaded while you were still tongue deep in his valve. His spike throbbed in your hand as you felt more transfluid land in your hair and shoulder.

“FRAG- Ah- hah…!” Swerve whined as his frame trembled through the aftershocks. “Oh slag im so sorry!” His visor came back online just in time to witness your mouth and jaw covered in dripping pink fluids.

You licked your lips and wiped your face with your shirt before taking it off and tossing it aside. “Hey.. hey no worries. It’s okay. You’re okay.” You kissed his cheek, patting his thigh softly. “You did amazing. I’m so glad I could make you feel good.”

Swerve let out another high whine, seeing your chest bare before him. He slowly raised his servos to graze the flesh around your nipples. You sighed softly and raised your hands to press his servos more firmly to your skin. Swerve was still panting from his previous overload but he leaned in to press his lips gently against your sternum. His servos wandered up to press and massage at your nipples, circling them like you did to his node earlier. Your back arched, pushing your chest further into his servos as your mouth fell open softly. Swerve looked up at you, visor glowing with excitement and awe. “You’re stunning. I mean- frag, look at you, coated with my overload. Mine…” He breathed out, eyes trailing down your body to rest at your pants. He seemed to swallow before shakily continuing. “D-Do you still want me t-to..you know.. t-”

“I still want you to fuck me, Swerve.” You finished for him, moving your hands to swiftly undo the buttons of your pants, pulling off your undergarments at the same time and tossing them behind you. You grabbed onto his wrist and guided his fingers up towards your wet folds. Swerve got the hint and gently worked one finger into the tight heat of your cunt. He could feel the gentle pulse and pull of your walls around his digit, and he could barely imagine what it would feel like around his spike. After he felt you loosen up a bit, he slid in a second digit. You let out a gasp and a soft groan at the stretch, knowing that this was just the beginning if you wanted to be prepared to take his spike.

Swerve gently curled and flexed his digits, exploring your sex thoroughly as his processor worked overtime to memorize which movements felt the best for you. His audials turned to max sensitivity to be sure he could hear every whine and murmur of praise that fell from your lips. He could feel the second rush of energon repressurising his spike the more he pumped his digits into you. You glanced down between the both of you to smirk at his array before leaning in and pressing another kiss to his jaw.

“Awh, look at you,” You cooed, lifting your hips up to grind the tip of his spike against your clit. Swerve let out a strained whine as his hips bucked up involuntarily. Your smirk only grew. “You’re such a pretty mech for me.”

“Hnf s-stop…” Swerve whispered bashfully, turning his helm away as energon rushed to his faceplates once more.

“I mean it.” You continued, slowly easing yourself down on his spike as you guided his gaze to meet yours. Swerve’s intake fell open and his spinal struts arched as your body enveloped his length. His servos flew to your hips when he finally bottomed out inside you. The heat of your cunt pressed upon every sensor and node on his spike with such certainty that he could barely concentrate on your words.

“Hhoh fraggghh, how are you s-so- so-ooHHFRAG-” Swerve had started to speak but you decided that now was the time to lift your hips and slam yourself back down. You started to ride the mech like an animal, your hips popping up halfway only to quickly push him back inside. Swerve let out a chorus of moans and yelps as his servos twitched against the soft plush of your thighs, squeezing every now and then to ground himself. It wasn’t until your legs started to burn that you were reminded of something. You quickly stopped your movements and grinned down at Swerve as he abruptly gasped and looked at you with a beautiful expression of desperation.

“Wh-why- why’dya stop?” Swerve asked, his speech slurred from the sudden absence of pleasure.

“Sorry, but I just remembered that you’re the one who’s supposed to be fucking me.” You pulled yourself off of his spike and he let out a pathetic mewl at the loss of your body. His pout was quickly wiped from his face when he witnessed you getting down on all fours and slyly shaking your hips at him. You turned to smirk over your shoulder at him as he gawked at you. Not another second had passed before Swerve was on top of you, his spike easily finding its way back into your slick folds. He started pounding into you, the weight of his body pressing down nicely on your back as he mounted you.

“Mnh, there you go, good boy Swerve.” You moaned out as his spike pistoned in and out of you, shoving your body into the mattress. Swerve was brought to a mindless ramble as your pussy sucked him in deeper and tightened around him.

“Ahfraggingprimusyouretight-“ Swerve whimpered as you clenched around him harder. Your body trembled as you felt his spike throb inside you. Swerve hovered over you, intertwining his servos over your fingers as he thrust into you rapidly. “F-Frag, ____ I’m not gonna l-last much longer-“

“Good, keep going. I want you to fill me with your transfluid. Overload in me like the good mech you are.” You grinned against the mattress, turning to look at him smugly, reaching down between your legs to rub at your clit. Swerve leaned down to mewl and whine against the back of your neck as he chased his own pleasure, pushing your hips further up with every pump of his hips.

“Fuck, Swerve- I’m-!“ You felt your eyes roll back at the drag of his thickness against your walls and you let out a filthy moan as you hit your climax. You felt the slick of your cum coat his panels as your sex tightened around him. The whimper that left his vocalizer was angelic as he let his spike empty itself within you. Thick ropes of transfluid coated your insides, the warm sensation of sheer fullness bringing you back down from your high. Your body continued to pulse around his spike, milking him of the last of his overload as he gave a few final lazy thrusts.

The two of you lay there panting for a while before he slowly pulled out of you, watching in awe as his cum started to slide down your thighs. You slowly turned and sat up, feeling your combined fluids seeping out of you and onto the sheets.

“Ah… that was… let me get you a towel.” Swerve gasped, stepping to the closet to grab a towel to wipe you down with, wetting it with warm water before gently cleaning you. He lifted and placed you on the other side of the bed, putting the used towel over the wet spot after cleaning and closing his panels.

You stared at the red and white mech with unveiled adoration as he finally sat next to you again. You leaned in and peppered his face with kisses as he gently rubbed your thigh.

“Swerve, you do know how to keep your mouth shut about some things, right?” You murmured sleepily, hoping the bartender could keep his mouth shut for at least a week or two before word got out that the human is a mechfucker.

“Uhuh, yeah. Definitely.” Swerve nodded with determination. You sighed with a small smile, already accepting that your next appearance in the bar would not be the same after this.

#transformers #mtmte #valveplug #self insert #swerve #transformers x reader #swerve transformers #buggyboi draws #buggyboi writes #swerve x reader #hes so babygirl #i wanna treat him well #transformers x human

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retrievablememories · 5 months

Text

one of these nights | dpr ian

word count: 1.1k warnings: kissing. and some suggestiveness/sexual tension. a/n: finally conjured something up. hooray for me breaking a nearly 10 year dry streak of never completing a single fic of this guy?

i'm finding that i'm in no mood to write anything explicit lately (cherry bomb wore me out ok), so this will probably not be what a lot of folks are looking for, but… this was written more for my own self-indulgence than anything else. 🤓 please don’t jump me about a part 2, i don't know whether there will be one or not

divider from here

"i'm tired," you say, crossing your arms and leaning your weight against the brick wall behind you. you blink slowly, trying to placate some of your exhaustion and rest your eyes. it's not the most comfortable resting spot, but it's all you have for now until you're back in your heated apartment and in your own bed.

"it should only take him a minute to find his wallet," christian reassures you as he settles himself on the wall opposite to you, knowing how eager you are to get back home. he can't blame you, as the long night is beginning to catch up to him, too.

"i can't believe he lost it in the first place; who the hell does that?" your friend had dashed back in the direction of the restaurant once you all had gotten halfway down the block and he realized he didn't have his wallet. now you are just waiting for him to find it and come back, having ducked into this alleyway to try to get some shelter away from the winter breeze. you wouldn't have gone anywhere near this dim, narrow alley if you were with anyone else, but you trust christian to keep you safe if anything happens. it feels unusual but comforting to be able to trust someone in that way.

christian chuckles lightly and shakes his head. "y'know, i think he was a little too preoccupied flirting with the waitress to keep track of it."

despite your tiredness, you break into giggles at the remembrance of your friend's corny attempts at flirting with lines that seemed to come straight from a poorly-rated romcom.

even after your laughter dies down, your insides pleasantly warmed by the amusement, christian's eyes stay on you—intently watching. when you realize this, you meet his gaze again with a question beginning to form on your lips.

your eyes only have seconds to remain interlocked with each other's before christian is stepping forward in one long stride, his body heat filling your space and his lips capturing yours.

it's completely unexpected. what's more unexpected is the flash of scalding heat that it sends through your body, and the quiet, surprised moan it pulls from you. his lips are warm and unaffected by the cold of the outdoors. strands of his hair tickle your face, and his nose presses against your cheek, the solid metal of his nose ring disrupting the soft touch of his skin on yours.

there are the ghosts of his hands—one at your hip and the other somewhere between the nape of your neck and the side of your jaw—but neither one fully makes contact with your body, just brushing by like he's decided he can't touch you or it might overwhelm him. his mouth parts, and there is the tip of his tongue gliding across the seam of your lips. you are just about to invite him inside, but then there is nothing more.

the kiss ends before you can fully get your bearings within it. christian separates from you and a trail of spit is the only thing left connecting you both, which breaks when he backs away.

"maybe i shouldn't have done that," he says, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. "i'm sorry." you don't know what to say to that.

the unruly breeze is back, changing directions and flooding into the narrow alley, and it makes your lips even colder than they'd otherwise be from the new moisture on them. your entire nervous system feels like it's vibrating within your body—trembling with the desire for more. you want to cross those few feet of space and go to him, meld your bodies together, crush your lips against his, scratch your nails across his back over the smooth leather of his jacket.

you might even like it if he picked you up and pressed your back against that rough brick wall—if you wrapped your legs around him and squeezed his slender waist between your thighs—if you felt his fingertips sink into the flesh of your thighs while his tongue sunk into your mouth.

but your feet stay planted right where they are.

"sorry? you don't have to be sorry. but why did you do it?"

"i just wanted to—for a while now. that's pretty selfish of me, but...fuck." he flips a hand through his hair like he always does; he does it so frequently that sometimes it distracts you from the conversation at hand. in those moments, all you can really think about is the softness of his hair as it slides through your fingers, the few times you’ve touched it before.

now, all you can think about is grasping it more firmly and controlling his movements, bringing his mouth back to yours so you can taste him again.

lost in his thoughts, he bites his lip. the vibrating of your nerves intensifies.

"well, do it again. you could be selfish with me, christian."

there's an expectant pause as you both size each other up, a mutual understanding and desire developing in the silence. christian approaches you again, but slower this time, like he's trying to gauge if you're serious. in seconds, he's right in front of you and breathing your air and staring at you like he is hungry for something only you could give him.

quietly, you reiterate: “take whatever it is that you want. i want you to do that.”

“darling...” his voice sounds deceptively gentle, teasing even though he doesn’t mean for it to be. he whispers to you as if you’re a glass figurine that could disintegrate if he speaks too loudly, even as his tattooed hand presses against the brick beside your head, already enveloping you. leaning in, his eyes flicking down to your mouth and staying there, he says: “do you really want me to—”

"hey! i found it."

you abruptly turn away from christian, looking at your friend who's standing at the entrance of the alleyway and holding his wallet up with triumph. "what are you two doing?" your friend looks at you cluelessly, though realization immediately dawns on him with an embarrassed smile he tries to tamp down.

the moment is shattered; christian's expression breaks into an awkward smile that matches your friend's, and once again the space between you is wider than you'd like for it to be, his arm back at his side. "dude..."

you give a heavy sigh and roll your eyes, suddenly remembering how tired you are. "...nothing. let's go home."

#the title is a reference to the eagles song i suppose #dpr ian x reader #khh scenarios #khh imagines #dpr scenarios #christian yu imagines #christian yu scenarios #i'm irrationally paranoid about him accidentally running across any of this shit so IDK how to tag this

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queers-gambit · 2 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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scalingsvt8thusiast · 1 month

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Skin-Deep Chapter 1

summary: The one where you fall for Seungcheol amongst all the protests and insecurities. The one where you don't know that he's fallen for you too.

A/N: my very first fic ever. not proofread, except by my obsessive editing. this is just chapter 1, so it's going to be a series :D . please bear with me, I have the entire draft done already and depending on the reception I may release the other chapters. also you can probably tell from my grammar where I'm from D: .

All you could think about was the music. So loud that you could barely hear your own thoughts, so loud that it made this random individual standing too close to you think that it was alright to speak into your ear. You could literally feel their breath down your ear canal and their spit on your neck. The lack of distance between your bodies was making it hard to breath and you felt too warm to be comfortable.

You did not ask for this conversation, this person just thought you looked “lonely". Sure, standing in the corner next to the lamp and a vase made you look odd, but you were very content standing in the corner unnoticed, very content scrolling through Pinterest, very content left on your own.

You watched as their mouth moved, hearing nothing but “finance” and “investment”. On second thought, maybe you were thankful for the loud pounding in your ear, not wanting to subject yourself to this conversation even in a library. Occasionally throwing in a smile or nod when they looked expectant of a reaction, you tried your best to discreetly text Mingyu to come and save you.

Just as you were about to hit send on a poorly written text message, you felt an arm snake around your waist. Your eyes snapped up and a series of unsavoury words about to leave your mou-oh?

“There you are, princess,” that familiar drawl. Your turn and your eyes met a pair of familiar brown ones, your lips stretched into a smile. Not Mingyu, but this was much better.

That random individual immediately pulled back, it helped that Seungcheol had a larger build so he basically pushed the person away. You relaxed into his grip, relishing the feel of his arm around your waist. It felt like the music was drowned out in the time you looked into his eyes.

“Sorry, she’s taken.” Seungcheol had managed to pry his eyes away from yours to give the unwanted individual a hard stare. They seemed to get the hint and muttered an apology before slinking off, probably to bother another poor unsuspecting party goer.

You turn your body so you were facing Seungcheol, both his arms now around you and your hands rest on his hard chest. His eyes sliding back to meet yours, a confident smile decorating his face. The two of you could stand there forever if it weren’t for the loud music and rowdy party people. Someone elbowed you causing you to stumble further into this chest.

“Woah there princess, drunk already?” He leaned towards you, “knew u were a lightweight but come on.”

The distance between the two of you not leaving any room for Jesus. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach going feral and your heart rate speeding up. His eyes pulling you in further, his smile making your knees weak. Maybe you did need to get a health checkup.

“Y/N?” Both of you jolted out of your trance, realising the position you were in, you quickly pushed yourself away from him. His arms left your waist and all you could hear was the loud music again.

“Y/N? Y/N!” Mingyu pushed himself through the crowd, “there you are, my god.”

Mingyu ushered the two of you towards another part of his house, the music wasn’t as loud here as it was in the previous room. There were lesser people and it was much easier to have an actual conversation here.

“Gyu, I thought you said this was going to be a small party,” you say with your arms crossed.

Had you known that it was going to be such a big party, you would have rejected Mingyu’s invite immediately. You weren’t fond of large parties, preferring to spend your nights rolling around in bed with a good book and a nice cup of tea. When you did attend parties, you were almost always standing in a quieter part of the party scrolling through your phone and you only attended because of Mingyu’s constant pleading, he never liked it when you stayed at home for too long.

“Yea, that’s what I thought,” he said, looking exasperated, “I told Soonyoung and next thing you know half the uni’s at my house. His fault really.”

The three of you turn to stare at Soonyoung who was currently doing a keg stand with Seokmin and Seungkwan at his sides shouting words of encouragement. You and Mingyu rolled your eyes while Seungcheol chuckled.

Seungcheol gave you a pat on the arm before walking off to join Jeonghan and Joshua on the sofa. Watching his retreating figure, you hated to admit that you already missed his presence.

Once Seungcheol was out of earshot, Mingyu whacked you on the arm. “What’s up with the two of you?”

“Okay, ow.” You say while rubbing your arm, sometimes you wonder if he thinks everybody is as muscle-y as he is. “Nothing’s going on, he just saved me from some finance-bro.”

Mingyu made a face, he quickly excused himself when he noticed Soonyoung getting off the keg looking like he was about to throw up in a nearby vase. Luckily Mingyu managed to catch him in time to redirect him towards an empty bucket. Seokmin and Seungkwan, who you were assuming were equally as drunk, booed at Soonyoung’s bent over figure as he slumped into the bucket. Mingyu turned to look at you with a look of pure disgust on his face.

You grinned at him, not making any move to help. This was actually surprising, normally at this time of the night Mingyu would be the keg stand-er, everybody else would be drunk off their faces and you would probably be in Mingyu’s position right now. The only reason Mingyu was very sober, too sober he would argue, was because he had originally planned a movie night with your small friend group before it was clearly ruined by Soonyoung.

“And this is why we don’t tell Soonyoung anything in advance,” you muttered under your breath.

Honestly you, and probably Mingyu, didn’t know 90% of the people in the house. You shuddered to think what was happening in the upstairs bedrooms. The last time Mingyu threw a party this big was on his birthday and you had stayed back to help his house staff clean. Whilst going through the rooms, you found that each and every bedroom was occupied by a couple or multiple couples doing things that you wished you had not seen. You then spent a month after that regularly attending Sunday masses, trying to rid your brain of the unsavoury images. You weren’t even religious!

You found yourself an empty spot on the sofa and decided that was where you would stay for the rest of the night. Pulling out your phone, you were just about to resume your very interesting read on dating sims and it’s effects on one’s love life when you feel a dip on the sofa and someone settled next to you.

No doubt, it was another respectful individual trying to add you into their long list of women that they’ve hit on throughout the night. Maybe you’d be in this person’s top 10 if you were lucky. Once you’ve finally motivated yourself enough to greet the person, you planted a tight smile on your face and lifted your head. You were surprised to come face to face with your knight in shining armour.

“Don’t look at me like that, princess, you forgot to thank me for saving you back there.” He tilted his head in the direction of the room you just came from, his arm resting on the back of the couch behind you.

“I had it under control, my good sir,” your smile becoming more genuine, happy that you were finally in a softer environment where you could truly appreciate his voice.

“Didn’t look like it, milady,” he quipped with a playful gleam in his eyes, leaning closer to you. “You looked like you were 5 seconds away from investing in some poorly constructed pyramid scheme.”

“Was that what he was talking about? Honestly the music was so loud, all I could really feel was his spit.” you stick your tongue out, shuddering.

Seungcheol chuckled, that deep baritone chuckle that would have millions of girls, including you, swooning. In fact right now some girls were throwing you dirty looks.

“Why are you here anyway? You were pretty quick to abandon me for Hannie and Josh.”

“Aw come on princess, didn’t want your bodyguard over there t’have any reason to punch me.” Seungcheol gestured to Mingyu who patting Soonyoung on the back while Seungkwan and Seokmin danced around them. You were about to tease Seungcheol further when you felt a shadow loom over the two of you.

“Cheollie baby, you promised me a dance!” You swore it was the highest, whiniest, squeakiest voice you had ever heard come out of a person. Some girls you didn’t recognise had surrounded Seungcheol and were currently giving him fuck-me eyes and pulling on his free arm. They purposefully pushed between the two of you, blocking your view of him.

It was amusing how panicked Seungcheol looked. He eyed you, silently begging for help as the tugs got stronger and more violent each time. Some girls had, for the lack of a better word, started molesting his arms and chest.

“Don’t let me keep you, Cheollie baby~” You say with a pitchier tone and the brightest smile you can manage. You give him a slow wave as you watch him be yanked off the couch by the giggling banshees.

Turning your attention back to your phone, you hear one of them say, “Why do you hang out with her Cheollie? She has a job? She’s like poor!”

You weren’t sure if Seungcheol heard it. He probably wouldn’t care anyway.

Now, back to datings sims and your love life.

A/N 2: I always welcome constructive criticism. Send me something if you think I need to improve somewhere

#seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol fic #scoups fic #seungcheol fluff #choi seungcheol #scoups #svt fanfic #seventeen seungcheol #svt x reader #svt fluff #seventeen #svt #mingyu #svt fic

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spiderfunkz · 9 months

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✧.* HER LEATHER JACKET.

— summary : natasha spends hours trying to find her favorite leather jacket, only to find out you were wearing it the whole time.

— word count : 0,3k

— warnings : all fluff, pet names, established relationship, fem!reader, not proofread, kinda inspired by that one deleted scene where natasha says "is that my jacket" to wanda.

a/n : tried a new layout!! idk if i'll stick to this one though the small writing is hurting my poor eyesight. alsooo my requests are open for natasha so please send some prompts for her ‼️‼️ this is so poorly written i'm so sorry.

august nights are just oh so, beautiful. the moonlight is reflecting on the tall skyscrapers, the stars were glowing, the streetlamps on with an orange hue, and the sky is a perfect dark blue color.

you have the biggest smile on your face as you put the finishing touches on your outfit. natasha had plan the perfect datenight for the two of you. a reservation at a fancy restaurant with live jazz.

you look in the mirror, your red lipstick complimenting the red leather jacket you had on. it was natasha's jacket, you've borrowed it for this special occassion.

okay, that was a lie. you may have stolen it a few days ago. but! it wasn't your fault, it was just laying on your bed so of course you took it, i mean it's a good jacket, plus it smells like nat.

your posing montage in the mirror however, is interrupted by another loud groan coming from the other room, that was probably the 6th time. was natasha complaining?

you walk towards her room, only to find a huge mess of clothes. "are you okay?" you knock. natasha was rumaging through the clothes, "no i'm trying to find my jacket, but i can't find it anywhere." she replies.

"which jacket?" you ask, natasha has at least 23 leather jackets at this point. "the red one, with the little star details. have you seen it?" her back was turned to you, still determined to find it in that huge pile of clothes.

"the red one?" you repeated. your cheeks turn the same shade of red as the jacket. embarrassed, you fidget your hands, "so uh, about that." you start. "have you seen it?" natasha turns around.

you smile out of embarrassment. "is that my jacket?" natasha raises her eyebrow, "i'm sorry! i should've asked but it was just laying there so i couldn't help it-" you take the jacket off.

"slow down dekta." natasha smirks, putting the jacket back on you. "you look good in it. matches your lipstick." she compliments.

you smile. feeling bold you lean in for a kiss. "now we both match." you laugh, "now come on were gonna be late for the reservation." you wink.

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envies-writing-corner · 4 months

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I Really Must Hurry!

Synopsis: With a partner who's similar to the white rabbit/stressed over tests or finals/has allegrophobia, the fear of being late/idk anymore

Includes: Riddle Rosehearts, Malleus Draconia

TW: poorly written Allegrophobia

Word Count: 0.4k

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Riddle Rosehearts

It was rare to see the housewarden of Heartslabyul waiting in the mirror hall, especially during finals. The redhead usually already seated in his class studying away and refreshing his own mind.

The students of his dorm passing by looked on curiously as the prefect from Ramshackle hurried into the hall, pausing in front of Riddle as they lean over, hands on their knees, panting heavily as they check their watch.

"Oh... I'm so sorry! I'm late, I'm late..." The prefect gasped out, looking mortified yet apologetically at the male. It had been the third time this week that they had left Riddle waiting, already awaiting the usual lecture of how they should've tried harder to be on time, or to not have lost track of time. Instead, the housewarden although, yes, was upset about being kept waiting, smiled at you before helping you stand and walking towards your shared class.

Maybe the lecture on punctuality could wait until after your finals, besides you seemed really upset this time. Just... Don't let it happen again.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus watched the prefect with a soft smile, admiring your features as you continuously checked you watch between study questions. It was amusing to him, seeing the prefect shuffling between piles of papers as they constantly watched the clock. It was beginning to be slightly worrying though, for his beloved had been in this state for nearly two hours now.

"Child of man, you seem stressed." The fae's voice had startled you out of your thoughts, face ablaze as you look up at the male, hesitantly nodding before sighing as your focus goes back to the note sheets and study guide.

"I only have so much time before this quiz and I just want to be prepared... The last thing I'd want is to be late and fail." You softly explained, chest clenching tightly at the thought of being embarrassed in front of your class for arriving late, not really paying too much attention to the conversation as you check the time once more.

Malleus frowned as he gently took hold of your hand, removing your watch and keeping it near him instead. You were about to protest before the fae shook his head, promising to make sure to let you know the time after every 15 minutes, just happy to help his partner and hoping to relieve at least a bit of weight from their shoulders.

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

Author's Note: Hi everyone, it's been a while since you've probably seen from me. Life has been hectic recently on top of lack of motivation and writers block. I'm slowly getting back into writing again so please be patient with me. And for those who've requested in the past, those drafts are still coming along, but have lack of care in what is currently written so it'll take a bit longer for me to get those out. I thank you for your patience in this time and Happy New Year everyone!!!

#twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia x reader #Malleus Draconia #Twisted Wonderland #riddle rosehearts x reader #Riddle Rosehearts

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todayisawthewhxlewxrld · 6 months

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"are you longing, is it Killing Time?"

"if i’m honest, think i want it. no more talking, no more nonsense."

synopsis// you work at a ballet studio and suna works at the karate dojo next door.

pairing// rintaro suna x gn!reader

word count// 3.9k

contents// ooc suna? idk he's like kinda smug in this... ive never written for him before so heed my warning. slight enemies to lovers but like kinda not really. osamu's obligatory accent. plot kinda speaks for itself i have no other warnings besides the fact that this kinda (majorly) sucks...

requested// by an anon!! im SO sorry this took me so long to write!!

notes// i know i said id never write for haikyuu again but i lied ok? take it. do what you will with this. sorry if this is all over the place... i feel very out of my element writing for haikyuu again LMFAO. also if anything mentioned about karate or ballet is wrong sorry!! i took ballet ONCE and taken karate never xoxo tbh i think the plot probably wouldve worked better as an smau but im not doin all that (respectfully.) anywho this was also inspired by killing time by movements (TOOOO GOOODDDDD)

Classical music and the whispers of the kids eight-counting their steps echo throughout the room. Everything is peaceful and as it should be... That is, until the mirror walls begin to vibrate violently from the sudden blaring of music from the studio next to yours. All the kids turn to look at you, confused about what’s happening, and you flash them a small apologetic smile.

“You guys keep practicing, okay? I'm gonna go next door and ask them to turn it down.”

Satisfied with your guidance, they nod, and you quickly walk out. Though not comfortable leaving a bunch of children unsupervised, you leave your studio door open to make sure that you’re still able to hear them from outside. You sigh before walking into the next studio; frankly, you had gotten this far without having to interact with anyone else, and you just wished it would stay that way. Neither the kids nor their instructor seem to notice your presence. And even though you clear your throat, no one hears you.

“Excuse me!”

Suddenly all heads are turning toward you, and you reflexively dig your feet into the floor to stop yourself from running back out. Their instructor waves the kids off, having them go back to practicing whatever karate move he had just taught them before walking up to you.

"Can I help you?” he says, his eyes boring into yours.

And suddenly. Suddenly, you hate him. Or, at the very least, strongly dislike him. He blasts his music, knowing damn well the walls are thin, and then has the audacity to give you attitude?

“Are you gonna say something, or are you just gonna stand there all day?” He stops and briefly looks you up and down, a small smirk playing on his face. "Actually, I wouldn’t mind that.”

Your jaw clenches, giving him the nicest smile you very well could muster. “Can you turn down your music? It’s distracting my kids.”

He hums and appears to consider it for a moment, and you're almost grateful—almost, because then he has to open his stupid mouth again.

“Maybe if you say please.”

Your eye twitches. "Okay, you know what? Nevermind." You glance over at his students briefly, making sure they aren't looking at the two of you, and when you confirm that they aren't, you flip him off, and all he does is laugh. You groan, and if you could slam his studio door shut without the glass shattering, you would.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

To no one’s surprise, he didn't stop playing his music at full volume—he claimed it pumped the kids up, and sure, maybe it did, but all it did was distract your own. And eventually, you two somehow fell into a game of who could play whose music louder. Considering your music consisted of different ballet numbers, it's safe to say he always won.

Week after week, you'd show up in his studio and ask him to just turn his music off, to lower the volume, to do something other than drive you crazy, but all he'd do was poorly flirt and smirk, his eyes always on you one way or another, and if you weren't so annoyed by him, you’re sure you would have found him captivating. It's not surprising when one day he’s the one showing up at your studio—you're actually excited about it, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he’s finally given up and is here to apologize. When you approach him and find all his students outside behind him, you quickly realize that's not the case. You glance between him and the kids.

“You guys go in and make friends, yeah?” You say as you move out the way to allow his students into your studio. You wait until they're all inside before stepping out and closing the door behind you. You whisper harshly, “What the fuck do you want?”

"Wow, you use that kind of language around your students?” He asks, his smirk all too evident on his face as he crosses his arms.

You stare at him blankly, no amusement etched on any of your features, and he awkwardly clears his throat.

“Our studio flooded.”

“Okay… What does that have to do with me?"

His shoulders slump as he groans. "Oh, c’mon.”

“How am I supposed to know what you want if you won't use your words like a big boy?” you ask, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

He glares at you, and for once, it seems like you're the one getting under his skin. “Fuck you.”

You mockingly tut and shake your head. "Wow, you use that kind of language around your kids?”

He stands there and kicks at the sidewalk, clearly having some internal debate you don’t care enough to ask about, but he tells you anyway.

“Would you… be willing to share your studio with us until they fix our studio?”

Without missing a beat, you laugh. “Yeah no. I don't even know your name... What if you're some serial killer?”

“First of all, it's Rintaro Suna. Second of all, do you really think they would hire me to work around kids if I was a serial killer?”

You shrug. You don’t care about the logistics; you just don’t want him in your studio.

“And third of all, seriously?” He crosses his arms, and his tone is full of the kind of disappointment you'd only find in a friend who’s been betrayed—not in between two strangers who’ve done nothing but “fight” about music for weeks on end.

“Yes seriously. Can’t you find a new studio?”

“Owner says it’s more expensive to do that than fix whatever got fucked up.”

“Then find someone else to share with,” you say as you turn to walk back into your studio.

Suna grabs your wrist, and as you look over your shoulder at him, he pouts. "Are you really gonna take this out on the kids just because you hate me?”

You stare at him blankly, but the more you think about it and let what he’s said sink in, the softer your face becomes, and suddenly your conviction is nowhere to be found—just another leaf blown away in the wind. “How did your studio flood?”

Happy with how you don’t seem like you're about to escape off into your studio anymore, Suna lets go of your wrist and starts explaining, “Well, one kid clogged the toilet and the other left the sink running.”

“Deserved,” you say through a snort.

“Whatever. Are you gonna share or not?”

“Fine,” you sigh. "But I swear to god, Suna, the second you piss me off or don’t listen, I'm kicking your ass out. This is still my studio.”

"Technically, it’s not even yours.”

You stare at him blankly, eyes narrowed, and Suna can immediately tell you’re already thinking about taking back your offer of letting him stay in your studio.

He coughs awkwardly. "I'll shut up now.”

“Good choice.”

A beat passes between the two of you just staring at each other, and when Suna realizes you won't say anything more, he takes the initiative.

Tilting his head at you, he asks, "So, are you gonna tell me your name now?”

You continue staring at him blankly.

"Oh, cmon, we’re gonna be sharing a studio now.”

“It's Y/n L/n.”

"Well, Y/n,” he says, somewhat dragging out your name before teasing, "I always knew you had a soft spot for me.”

"I have a soft spot for the kids, not you,” you correct him, crossing your arms.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he says, brushing your shoulder with his as he walks past you and into your studio.

“Don’t just walk into my studio like you own it?!" you call out, following after him.

“Not your studio, and you don’t own it either.”

“You know what I mean, Suna!”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

It's almost scary how easily Suna and his students fit into your class. It didn’t even take a week for you to feel like having him in your studio was natural—how it should have always been. You hated how any ill-will you had toward him would suddenly vanish into thin air whenever you saw him interact with his or your students. You grew accustomed to your new routine with him.

Every other day, he could play his music and even teach some of your students some karate if they so desired, and vice versa. He’d bring you breakfast, and you'd bring him lunch, and sometimes the two of you would even go have dinner once all your students had left. You hated how he just wiggled his way into your life. You’re supposed to hate him—he used to play his music as loud as he could just to piss you off, and now you have dinner with him practically every day.

You’ve grown so fond of him that now, two months later, about to be three, you've completely forgotten why he’s here in the first place—that his residence in your studio is only temporary, and he’s just here till his studio is fixed. You’ve forgotten all about it because now you look forward to seeing him and actually want to see him more than you've ever wanted anything else before. and he feels the exact same because here he is, slumped in a chair in the back of the room, frowing as he watches his and your students combined because you’re not here.

The door swings open, and Suna can't help but let out a sigh of relief, practically jumping out of his seat, ready to go run and spin you in his arms like some shitty rom-com, only to find that it wasn't you who walked in; nope, it was just his friend. Suna’s face falls as he drops back into his chair with a groan.

“Okay, lovely to see ya too,” Osamu snorts as he walks over to Suna, taking the seat next to him.

He weakly tries pushing Osamu out of the chair, mumbling, “That’s Y/n’s seat.”

"Well, they aren't here, are they?”

Suna scowls at him but gives up trying to push him out nonetheless.

“Where are they anyway?”

“Running late, I guess.”

Osamu hums in response, and a comfortable silence falls over them. The only noise in the room was the kids whispering their next move to themselves or helping their friend with something. Suna watches them intently, with the care and attention of someone handling glass, and quickly finds a few students who need help.

"Hey, keep your leg straight when you kick,” he calls out to one of his students before turning to one of yours, “And you bend your knees more when you do your... uh-“

"Plié," the child supplies for him.

Suna nods. "Yeah, that whatever.”

Osamu doesn't know whether he should laugh at or side-eye Suna. “Do ya not know their names?”

"I don’t get paid enough to know their names.”

He shakes his head, deciding that commenting on that is not worth his time, and instead goes to why he came here in the first place. "I'm surprised yer still here, to be honest.”

"A job is a job.”

"No, I mean in this studio. I figured the repairs in yer’s would be finished by now; it’s been like, what? almost three months?”

Suna mumbles a slow, drawn-out, “…yeah.”

Osamu sits up straight, shifting in his seat to face Suna entirely. “What the fuck was that?”

“Don’t cuss in front of the kids; what’s wrong with you?" He reprimands, slapping Osamu’s arm.

“Don’t change the subject.”

"I'm not; I'm just saying.”

Osamu rolls his eyes. "Okay, well, start by saying what’s up with the repairs.”

He does not. “Y/n will be back soon; you should leave.”

“Suna,” Osamu monotones.

"If I tell you, will you leave?”

“What did ya do, Suna?”

Suna looks away as he embarrassedly mumbles, “The repairs could’ve been done a long, long time ago…”

“What?!” Osamu practically shrieks as he sits up straight. “What do ya mean?!”

Suna glares at Osamu before looking toward the kids, whose attentions were caught by Osamu yelling and waving them off. “Ignore him.”

“Oh my god, have ya been stalling the repairs?” He asks, this time quietly. “Why would ya do that?”

“Why do you think, Osamu?”

Suna’s attitude does nothing to deter Osamu, not when he’s just had the realization of a lifetime. “Oh my god... Oh my god! Ya have a crush on Y/n, don't ya?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Suna hisses through clenched teeth, his eyes wide and threateningly boring into his.

“What happened to not cussing in front of the kids?”

Suna stares at him blankly, and Osamu merely sighs, slumping back into his seat.

"I can't believe this. I don't know if this is pathetic or cute—kinda both, to be honest.”

"Osamu, I swear-“

With neither of them having heard the studio door swing open, you unknowingly interrupt his threat: "Hey! Sorry, traffic was horrible—oh, who’s this?"

“Doesn't matter; he was just about to leave,” Suna says without missing a beat while standing straight up.

"I'm Osamu,” he says, suddenly approaching you. “And yer the infamous Y/n, I'm assuming?”

“Infamous..?” you question under your breath before shaking your head and deciding to ignore it. “Uh yeah—are you friends with Suna?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Osamu answers, ignoring Suna’s response. "I should get going, though. Nice meeting ya, Y/n!”

“Yeah, you too…”

Osamu waves you goodbye before winking at Suna and disappearing out the door.

You hum. “So what was that about?”

“No idea,” Suna shrugs as he walks away to gather his students.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Suna has been weird ever since a week ago, when you walked into the studio to Suna and his friend. He’s avoided you as best as he can, and even when he’s not actively trying to somehow get away from you, he still feels Pluto far from his more than dry replies. And frankly, you’ve had enough. You’re driving yourself crazy trying to figure out what you’ve done wrong and how to fix it—you can’t know unless he tells you.

Which is why, when both of your students left, you borderline kidnapped him. You grabbed him by his arm and dragged him into your car, driving the two of you to a restaurant, where you now sit in an awkward silence waiting for your food. But this is good, right? If he truly didn’t want to be in this position with you right now, you’re more than certain he could’ve put up a winning fight, yet he didn't, so that’s good. This is good.

"Did I do something?”

“Yeah,” he replies without missing a beat or looking up at you.

“Huh?” Your heart is in your throat as you blink at him. “What did I do?”

“Exist.”

“What?” You shake your head in disbelief. "I thought we were getting along."

“We are—god.” As he finally looks up at you, he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. You almost feel like you're back in his studio for the very first time with the way his eyes are boring into yours. “We get along too well, jesus christ, Y/n, you drive me crazy.”

“And you don’t drive me crazy?” you ask, giving him a crooked smile.

“You don't know what you’re saying,” he says flatly, yet the way it’s almost breathless has you thinking maybe he actually wants you to know what you’re saying—to know all of the implications that come with it and fully embrace them.

“Does it matter? Just stop ignoring me, Suna; I hate it.”

"I hate it too.”

“So then why are you doing it, idiot?”

“Because Y/n, I-“

You stare at him expectantly, patiently waiting for his answer.

"I get too distracted with you; I need to teach my students," he mumbles the rest of his sentence as he looks away from you, your scrutinizing gaze sending shivers down his spine and crushing any idea he had to say something else—say the truth—well, the whole truth, because you very well do distract Suna far too much for his liking.

“That sounds like a shitty excuse.”

Suna hums, and when he makes no move to explain himself, you wonder, “Why do I distract you so much?”

“Why do you care if I ignore you so much?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t act childish, Suna.”

Suna merely raises an eyebrow at you, still waiting for your answer, just like you were waiting for his only a few moments ago.

You sigh. "I'm not sure.”

"Well, I am, so I won’t say anything until you're sure too.”

“That’s not fair, Sunaaaa,” you whine, sliding down your seat like a petulant child.

He shrugs, a slight smirk on his face. "I'm more than happy to wait.”

"Whatever, just stop ignoring me?”

"Yeah, I'll stop,” he says, nodding. “Sorry bout that.”

"S'fine." You wave him off before remembering something that makes you sit up straight again. "Oh, also, I've been meaning to ask about how your studio is going?”

Suna’s mood and face drop so fast that it’s as if he was never even happy or smiling in the first place—the temperature of the room suddenly icy cold. “Oh.”

"I'm not trying to kick you out, Suna,” you immediately add, reassuring him that, as of now, that's the last thing you’d ever want to do. "I actually like you in my studio... like a lot, I guess, and I don't know, to be honest, I'm scared I'm getting too used to you being there."

"Well, I'm already used to it, so either way, we’re both kinda fucked in that department.”

You can't help but smile so wide it hurts your cheeks, absolutely over the moon that he feels the exact same way. That he’s grown so used to you, like the two of you should have never been apart in the first place, and it was always only a matter of time before you found your way to each other.

"I'm not sure, though. I haven’t heard much,” he continues, interrupting your inner swooning.

"Okay, well, that’s good then,” you say, nodding more to yourself than to him. “No need to get rid of you so soon; who else will annoy me?”

"Weren't you just begging me to stop ignoring you, and now I'm annoying?” he taunts.

You cross your arms, glaring at him. "I was not begging Rintaro Suna.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Shut up," you say through a smile, no hostility anywhere in you. “Oh also! The kids wanted me to tell you about our recital coming up.”

“Yeah? When is it?”

“Week from now. They really want you there.”

Suna tilts his head slightly to the side, his eyes narrowing at you in doubt. “Just them?”

“Just them.”

Suna doesn't believe it for a second, and maybe he would’ve if your voice wasn't so shakey and breathless.

You relent; you never had much resolve when it came to him anyway—that's how he ended up in your studio in the first place, isn't it? “And me too, I guess.”

A blush that he makes look all too good covers his cheeks. "I'd love to go, Y/n.”

“Great!”

Suddenly his face drops, and he’s cursing under his breath, "Shit, wait, actually, we have a tournament that day too.”

"Oh, that's fine! I mean, being in the studio with us, it's like you get a free recital every day, right?” You smile, but even then, it's clear as day how disappointed you are.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. I can still try to make it.”

“No no! It's fine; you won't miss much. You have your own kids stuff to worry about.”

Suna frowns, wanting nothing more than to wipe that dejected look off your face. “Y/n.”

"Suna, it's fine, really." You weakly try to reassure him, but he’s just not budging.

He shakes his head. "I'll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Okay, I'll hold you to it then.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

The recital came faster than you cared for. You would be excited for this had Suna been able to come, but he couldn't, and now, even though you know he won't be here, you still can't help but peek through the stage curtains, hoping and praying you'll somehow spot him in the crowd. You try to keep your disappointment at bay the whole recital, and surprisingly you do. The recital goes off without a hitch, and the only thing you can wish for is that you were more excited. Your little ones did absolutely amazing and completely blew the crowd away, yet here you are moping around over some dude who, up until a few months ago, you hated.

“They did amazing,” an oddly familiar voice says, breaking you out of your thoughts. "I'm sure it's only because of their teacher... Do you know them? I'm actually looking for them.”

You're flattered, really, but you can't deal with compliments or holding a conversation right now, not when you want to just crawl under your bed covers and never come out. Not to mention that no one else is supposed to be backstage right now. You sigh before turning around to ask them to leave, only to practically jump out of your skin with excitement.

“Suna!” you exclaim happily, running your way toward him and closing some of the gap between you two. “You’re here, but how? Where were you? I looked, and I couldn't find you—wait, I thought? Where's your kids? Shouldn't you be at their tournament?”

Suna watches you ramble with the softest of faces, huffing a small laugh. He shrugs once you're done. “Samu took over.”

“Rintaro Suna.”

“What? The little shits will get over it… but I don't think you would've if I didn't show up.”

"Well, I would've tried.” You take another step toward him. "Though I can't say you're not a smart man, Rintaro.”

Suna eyes you curiously and follows your movements, taking a step toward you. “So I've been told.”

You roll your eyes, despite an undeniable smile dressing your face, and in some fit of arrogance, you take the last step toward Suna, thus closing any remaining space between the two of you. With your chests touching, there’s nothing left for you to do but wrap your arms around his neck, which you do with ease—as if they were always meant to be there this whole time. He quickly follows your lead, resting his hands on your waist. But his eyebrows are furrowed as if to ask if this is okay, and you nod. This is more than okay—you’d actually prefer more, and it doesn’t seem like he’s getting the hint.

“So are you gonna kiss me, or are you just gonna stand there all day?"

Suna goes wide-eyed, and it takes a minute for his body to catch up with his brain, but before you know it, Suna is practically slamming his face into yours, kissing you like if he doesn't, he’ll die. like you’re the very oxygen Suna has been so desperately searching for all his life—and who's to say he isn't yours as well? Meeting his lips with the same exact urgency, you're sure if anyone else was backstage right now, the two of you would be scolded for years to come. Suna pulls away for air, practically panting; his face is flushed with such a deep red you can still make it out even under the dim lights, and you push strands of his hair out of his face just to revel in his blush some more.

Still struggling to catch his breath, he swallows harshly. “Would it ruin the moment if I told you my studio is finally fixed?”

"Yes, so I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that and keep kissing you instead.”

"Yeah, ok, I like that idea better anyway.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #suna rintarou #suna x reader #suna rintarō #suna rintaro haikyuu #suna rintaro x reader #suna haikyuu #haikyuu suna #suna fluff #rintaro suna #bimbo’s one shots #bimbo’s one shots; haikyuu

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