#Clear Jewel Case

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Rollins Band - What's the Matter Man

[pucksandpower]

Don’t Judge a Book by Its Cover

Toto Wolff x Reader

Summary: a wealthy older man with a starry-eyed younger woman — it’s a tale as old as time and a scene the saleswoman has seen countless times before … or is it?

The showroom gleams under harsh fluorescent lights, every surface polished to a mirror finish. Cars, sleek and expensive, are lined up like jewels in a case. The hum of quiet conversation fills the space, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter or the soft clink of champagne glasses.

It’s another day at the auto show, and the saleswoman, tall and sharp-eyed, watches it all with a thin veneer of polite disinterest. She’s been here long enough to know who’s serious and who’s just here to gawk.

She spots them before they even step into her section. The man is hard to miss — tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of commanding presence that makes people step aside without even realizing it. His suit is tailored to perfection, probably costs more than her monthly salary.

And then there’s the girl — no, the woman — beside him. You’re much younger, that’s clear. You look out of place, wide-eyed and excited like a kid in a candy store, dressed in something trendy but understated, a deliberate contrast to the man’s sophistication.

The saleswoman’s eyes narrow as she watches you both approach. She’s seen this before — older man, younger woman, the kind of relationship that’s all too common in these circles. She doesn’t have to guess who’s footing the bill here.

“They’re all stunning,” you say, your voice carrying over the murmur of the crowd as you walk beside the man. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Take your time,” the man says, his voice low, accented, and rich with an authority that’s clearly second nature to him. He’s smiling at you, and there’s a warmth there that the saleswoman finds almost disarming. Almost.

She steps forward, her professional smile firmly in place, and approaches the two of you. “Good afternoon,” she says, her tone perfectly neutral, though there’s an edge to it, just enough to make her feel superior in this little interaction. “Is there anything in particular you’re interested in today?”

You look up at the man, a slight question in your eyes, as if asking for permission to speak. The saleswoman notices this, of course, and it only confirms what she already thinks.

“The Porsche 911 S/T,” you say, your voice gaining a little confidence as you look back at her. “It’s — wow, it’s incredible.”

The saleswoman allows herself a small, condescending smile. Of course, you’d go for something flashy like that. “A beautiful choice,” she says smoothly. “Though it’s not currently available for sale. It’s more of a display model for now.”

You look disappointed, but before you can say anything, the man steps in. “Is that so?” He asks, his tone polite but firm. “And when will it be available?”

“Not for a few months, I’m afraid,” she replies, keeping her smile in place even as she feels a flicker of unease at the intensity in his eyes. “But we can certainly take your information and let you know the moment it is.”

You’re distracted by another car nearby — a sleek, silver Audi R8 — and the man follows your gaze. “Excuse me for a moment,” he says to the saleswoman, already moving toward the car that has caught your attention. She watches him go, a tightness forming in her chest.

You’re bending slightly, peering into the Audi’s interior, running your fingers over the smooth leather seats. The man is right behind you, his hand resting lightly on your lower back, a gesture that’s both protective and possessive.

“What do you think of this one?” He asks, leaning in close, his breath warm against your ear. You smile, and it’s a real smile, the kind that makes your whole face light up.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, your voice soft, almost reverent. “But I think I’m still in love with the Porsche.”

He chuckles, and the sound is deep, genuine. “You have good taste.”

The saleswoman doesn’t hear what you say next, but she sees the way you look up at him, like he’s the only person in the room. She almost rolls her eyes. Of course, you’re infatuated. Who wouldn’t be, with a man like that?

But there’s something else, something in the way he looks at you that makes her pause. There’s affection there, sure, but it’s more than that. It’s something deeper, more complicated.

He straightens up, leaving you to admire the Audi, and makes his way back to the saleswoman. She steels herself, ready to resume the dance of negotiation, but his next words take her by surprise.

“I want to buy the Porsche for my partner,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

She blinks, momentarily thrown. “As I mentioned earlier, sir, it’s not for sale at the moment. But we can-”

“You misunderstand,” he interrupts, his eyes locking onto hers with a quiet intensity. “I’m not asking if it’s for sale. I’m telling you I want to buy it.”

The saleswoman feels a prickle of irritation, but she keeps her expression neutral. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, Mr …”

“Wolff,” he says, his voice steady. “Toto Wolff.”

The name rings a bell, and she stiffens slightly. Of course, she’s heard of him. Everyone in this business has. But she’s not about to let him walk all over her just because he’s some big shot.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wolff, but even for you, the car isn’t available. It’s a prototype, and it won’t be released for sale until-”

He cuts her off with a low laugh, and there’s something almost dangerous in the sound. “For me,” he says slowly, as if explaining something very simple to a child, “they’ll make it available.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but the words die in her throat. There’s a look in his eyes that makes it clear this isn’t a man who’s used to hearing the word no. And she realizes, with a sinking feeling, that he’s right. If Toto Wolff wants that car, he’s going to get it.

The saleswoman swallows hard, her professional composure beginning to crack around the edges. “I’ll need to speak with my manager,” she says finally, her voice losing some of its earlier confidence.

“Please do,” he replies smoothly, his gaze flicking back to where you’re still admiring the Audi, completely unaware of the tension playing out behind you.

She turns on her heel, making her way to the back office with quick, clipped steps. The nerve of him, she thinks, but even as she seethes, she knows what the outcome will be. No one says no to someone like Toto Wolff.

As she waits for her manager to confirm the inevitable, she casts a glance through the glass wall of the office, watching you and him from a distance. You’re laughing at something he’s said, your hand resting on his arm, and for a moment, the saleswoman feels a strange, unwelcome pang of something close to envy.

It’s not just the money or the power that he has — though there’s plenty of that — it’s the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing that matters. Like he would move mountains just to see you smile.

The manager finally appears, a mix of excitement and nerves on his face as he hurries over to speak with Toto. The saleswoman stays back, watching as they exchange words, her earlier confidence completely drained. She knows what’s coming, and sure enough, after a few minutes, the manager gestures for her to come forward.

“Mr. Wolff,” the manager says, his tone obsequious, “we’d be more than happy to arrange the purchase of the Porsche for you. It’s not something we typically do, but in your case, we can make an exception.”

Toto gives a small nod, as if this is exactly what he expected. “Good,” he says, then glances over at you, still absorbed in the Audi. “I’ll take care of the details later. For now, I’d prefer if my partner remains unaware of the purchase.”

The manager nods quickly. “Of course, of course. Discretion is our priority.”

The saleswoman feels a fresh wave of irritation as the manager all but trips over himself to please Toto. But what bothers her even more is the realization that she was wrong. This isn’t a simple sugar relationship, despite what she first thought. There’s something real here, something that makes her uncomfortable in ways she can’t quite put into words.

As Toto walks back over to you, the manager gives the saleswoman a sharp look, silently instructing her to follow his lead. She pastes on her best smile, swallowing her pride, and follows after him.

You don’t notice the shift in the atmosphere when Toto returns to your side. You’re too engrossed in the car, asking him questions about its specs and design, your enthusiasm infectious. The saleswoman watches the two of you interact, trying to reconcile the easy, genuine affection she sees with her initial assumptions.

“So,” Toto says, leaning in a little closer to you, “if you could choose any car here, which one would it be?”

You bite your lip, clearly torn, but finally, you sigh. “I know it’s silly, but I keep coming back to the Porsche. It’s just … it’s perfect.”

His smile widens, and the saleswoman feels a pang of something she refuses to name. “Then the Porsche it is,” he says softly, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

You laugh, a little embarrassed. "Toto, you can't just buy it because I like it. It's not even for sale."

He chuckles, a warm, deep sound that makes you feel like you’re the only one in the room. “You’d be surprised what’s possible.”

The saleswoman shifts uncomfortably, watching as Toto brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering a moment too long to be purely casual. You smile up at him, oblivious to everything except the man in front of you.

She clears her throat, forcing herself back into the conversation. “Actually, we can make arrangements for the Porsche. If you’d like, we can finalize the details and set up delivery.”

You blink, surprised. “Really? But I thought-”

Toto smiles, squeezing your hand gently. “It’s yours, if you want it.”

Your eyes widen, and for a moment, you’re speechless. Then you throw your arms around him, pressing your face into his chest as you mumble a heartfelt, “Thank you.”

The saleswoman watches, the professional smile on her face feeling more like a grimace now. She doesn’t understand it, doesn’t understand you or him, but she knows she was wrong.

You pull back, looking up at Toto with a softness in your eyes that’s almost too much to bear. “I don’t even know what to say,” you whisper.

“Just be happy,” he murmurs back, his voice tender in a way that makes the saleswoman want to look away.

And for a moment, she does. She turns her gaze to the gleaming cars, the reflections of the showroom lights bouncing off their polished surfaces. When she looks back, you’re both still there, lost in each other, completely oblivious to the rest of the world.

The saleswoman feels a strange, hollow emptiness settle in her chest as she turns to finalize the sale, realizing that perhaps, despite everything, this wasn’t about money or power at all.

Perhaps it was just about love.

***

The estate in Oxfordshire is nothing short of palatial, its sprawling grounds stretching out in every direction, bordered by neatly trimmed hedges and ancient oaks. The driveway is long and winding, leading up to a mansion that looks like it could have been lifted straight out of a Jane Austen novel — grand, elegant, with an air of timeless sophistication.

The saleswoman sits in the passenger seat of the delivery truck, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her jacket. She’s never been nervous about a delivery before, but then again, she’s never delivered to someone like Toto Wolff before.

Beside her, the driver is humming along to a tune on the radio, completely at ease as they turn onto the estate’s private road. She glances at the rearview mirror, catching sight of the Porsche 911 S/T, pristine and gleaming, with an oversized red bow affixed to the roof. It looks absurd, she thinks, a toy fit for a princess.

It takes several minutes to reach the front of the house, the tires crunching softly over the gravel. The saleswoman feels a knot tighten in her stomach as they pull to a stop.

She’s here to oversee the delivery, to make sure everything goes smoothly, but part of her wonders if this is all a colossal waste of time. Surely, she could’ve sent someone else. But she’d insisted on coming herself—perhaps out of some twisted sense of curiosity, or maybe it was just her bruised pride.

The driver cuts the engine, and there’s a brief moment of silence before the door to the mansion opens. Toto steps out first, his movements unhurried, as if he’s in no rush at all. And then you appear beside him, your hand lightly resting on his arm as you walk out together.

“Here we go,” the driver mutters, giving her a nod before he hops out to start the unloading process.

The saleswoman takes a deep breath, composing herself before she steps out of the truck. Her heels sink slightly into the gravel as she approaches, her professional smile back in place. Toto greets her with a nod, his expression unreadable, while you give her a warm, if somewhat shy, smile.

“I hope the drive wasn’t too difficult,” Toto says, his voice smooth and polite, but there’s a hint of something more behind his words. An expectation that everything will, of course, be perfect.

“Not at all, Mr. Wolff,” the saleswoman replies quickly, her smile tightening. “It was a pleasure, really.”

You step forward, your eyes wide with excitement as you look past her to the truck. “Is it …” you ask, your voice filled with a mix of disbelief and anticipation.

The driver is already lowering the truck’s ramp, and as the Porsche comes into view, you let out a small gasp. “It’s beautiful,” you whisper, taking a step closer, your hand still clutching Toto’s arm. “I can’t believe it’s really here.”

Toto watches you with a soft smile, the kind of smile that the saleswoman has started to recognize as reserved only for you. “I told you it would be,” he says quietly, as if this moment is just as special for him as it is for you.

The saleswoman clears her throat, drawing their attention back to her. “We took extra care during the transport,” she says, trying to regain some control over the situation. “Everything is exactly as it was when it left the showroom.”

“Thank you,” Toto says, but his focus is already back on you as you approach the car, your fingers brushing over the sleek lines of the Porsche as if you’re afraid it might disappear if you touch it too firmly.

You circle the car slowly, taking it all in, and for a moment, the saleswoman feels like an intruder in this private moment. She watches as you turn back to Toto, your eyes bright with unshed tears. “I don’t even know what to say,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

He steps closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “I just want you to be happy.”

The saleswoman averts her gaze, the tenderness of the moment making her uncomfortable. She’s seen plenty of couples over the years, but there’s something about the way you and Toto interact that feels … different.

It’s not just the age difference, though that’s part of it. It’s the way he looks at you, like you’re the most precious thing in the world, and the way you look at him, like he’s your anchor in a storm.

The driver interrupts her thoughts as he finishes unloading the car. “All done here,” he says cheerfully, handing the keys over to Toto with a grin. “She’s all yours.”

Toto takes the keys with a nod of thanks, but instead of pocketing them, he holds them out to you. “Would you like to take her for a spin?”

Your eyes widen, and you laugh, a light, joyful sound that echoes in the evening air. “Now? I haven’t even driven a car like this before!”

“There’s a first time for everything,” he replies, his tone teasing yet encouraging. “And I trust you completely.”

You hesitate for a moment, glancing at the car and then back at Toto. The saleswoman can see the internal debate playing out on your face — excitement warring with nervousness. But then, with a deep breath, you take the keys from him, your fingers brushing against his as you do.

“Okay,” you say, your voice firming with determination. “Let’s do it.”

The saleswoman watches as you climb into the driver’s seat, adjusting the mirrors and running your hands over the steering wheel like you’re trying to familiarize yourself with every inch of the car. Toto takes the passenger seat beside you, and for a brief moment, the saleswoman catches a glimpse of his hand resting on your knee, a gesture that’s both reassuring and intimate.

She’s pulled out of her thoughts when the driver nudges her, motioning toward the truck. “We should get going,” he says, glancing over at the car. “Looks like they’ve got everything under control.”

But the saleswoman doesn’t move. She’s rooted to the spot, watching as you and Toto pull away from the estate, the Porsche purring softly as it glides down the driveway. There’s something about the scene that feels almost cinematic, like she’s watching a moment that she’s not supposed to be a part of.

The car disappears around a bend in the road, and the saleswoman finally exhales, not realizing she’s been holding her breath. She turns back to the driver, who’s looking at her with mild curiosity.

“Everything okay?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

She forces a smile, pushing down the strange mix of emotions churning in her chest. “Yeah,” she says, though the word feels hollow. “Everything’s fine.”

They load back into the truck, the engine roaring to life as they begin the long drive back to the showroom. The saleswoman stares out the window, her thoughts racing, replaying the scene over and over in her mind.

She tries to tell herself that it’s just another delivery, just another rich couple flaunting their wealth. But no matter how hard she tries, she can’t shake the image of the way Toto looked at you, like you were his entire world.

The driver’s voice cuts through her thoughts as he asks, “So, you think they’re the real deal?”

She turns to look at him, frowning slightly. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, keeping his eyes on the road. “I mean, a guy like him, a girl like her … you think it’s more than just the money?”

The saleswoman hesitates, her fingers curling around the edge of her seat. She wants to dismiss it, to laugh it off and say that of course it’s just about the money. But the words stick in her throat, refusing to come out.

“Yeah,” she finally says, her voice quieter than she intended. “I think it is.”

The driver nods, seemingly satisfied with her answer, and they fall into silence once more. But the saleswoman can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted, that this delivery has left her with more questions than answers.

As they drive away from the estate, the sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the road. The saleswoman stares at them, lost in thought, wondering what it must feel like to be loved the way Toto loves you.

She knows she’ll never have an answer to that question, but as the truck rumbles down the road, she can’t help but think that maybe — just maybe — there’s more to life than the things she’s always taken for granted.

And for the first time in a long time, she finds herself longing for something she can’t quite put into words.

[beloveds-embrace]

tf 141 with a reader who loves jewelry >>

It’s not a particularly visible obsession; all your boys know is that they’ve never seen you without jewelry. Be it pretty, delicate earrings, a lovely necklace that rests in between your cleavage, or a gleaming set of rings and bracelets. They are eye-catching, on occasions, and other times they blend so nicely into whatever outfit you have adorned yourself with.

They don’t realize it, they don’t make the connection until you’ve invited them into your house, and then you are leading them deep, deep into the basement until they are in front of a closed room. The entire thing is suspicious, honestly alarming because Ghost did so much research into you but never knew anything about this- but you look so nervous and hopeful, emotions bared.

They aren’t prepared to enter a room stuffed full of jewelry. A room practically glittering, gleaming like you’ve brought yourself a corner of the starry universe. Rows upon rows, cabinets and closed glass cases. And then you are smiling, stepping into the room and urging them in.

“I… I’ve always loved jewelry,” you clear your throat, voice soft and hushed. You look around, an unmistakable look of fondness and happiness in your eyes. “Necklaces, earrings.. anything that can be put on the body to adorn it more than clothes could. Ever since I was a child, I was, well, obsessed with collecting them. I love collecting them, and every piece here is precious to me.”

Your cheeks turn pink, and you look away from their gazes. “…but you are more precious to me, and I trust all of you. Which is why I feel happy, showing this part of me to you. And…”

You grin now, opening a cabinet with a simple key you put away to pull out four jewelry boxes. “-And that is why I got these!”

You open the first box, showing John a beautiful necklace that holds a single garnet shaped into a delicate teardrop. Garnet, for his birthstone. John, John, John- a man who will always have your heart. John, who treats you like a jewel even more delicate than the one in your hands. You’ve never had anyone hold you quite as he does, so full of love.

The second box is for Soap, for your Johnny. A dangling pair of earrings that would brush across your skin should you wear them, almost as sweetly as his kisses across your body. A stormy blue, much like his eyes.

Third box is bigger- the biggest. This one, you had custom-made. Not cheap at all, but worth every single dollar. Made entirely out of diamonds, the shoulder pieces would drape so elegantly across your shoulders and dangle off your back, like a never-ending embrace. Your most expensive piece to this day, and yet you would so easily swear that it did not compare to Gaz’s beauty anyways. It was based on him, on how you looked at him, on the sheer love you felt for and from him.

The last piece is a necklace. It curls around your neck not like a collar, but like a hissy cat seeking warmth. Three rows of pearls, shiny and pretty, and in the middle sits a round red jasper. You don’t remember when it had been, but you’d read that red jasper meant courage, preseverance, and healing. Perfect for your brave, incredible Si, whom you’ll always admire and adore.

But in your enthusiasm of describing how and why you chose each piece, you are blind to the way they look at you:

In a room full of gems, jewels and stars, you shine the brightest to them.

[ayyy-pee]

𝕆𝕌𝕋𝕃𝔸𝕎

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Part Two of Outlaw Series

Pairing: Outlaw!Suguru Geto x Female Reader Genre: Western AU WC: 8.7k Summary:

“Gettin’ train tickets ain’t easy. Where ya headed?” “Just a few towns over. Goin’ to visit family,” you explain, now more relaxed with him. Something about the way he was able to soothe your nerves makes Suguru feel proud. It also is making him clearly insane, because some sick part of Suguru begins to think he could be your family. If you’ll let him. “What about you?” His brows shoot up in surprise. Why would you want to know about him? “Me?” You nod quickly. “I know you’re…” You lean forward and Suguru mirrors the action as shivers race up his spine when you whisper scandalously, “...an outlaw.”

Story Warning: Train robbery, hostage situation, lying and scheming, profanity bc bitch it's me??, dub-con, Suguru has a corruption kink, needy downbad Suguru, "virgin" reader, guns, smut, blowjob, riding, fingering, spit, thinking about spitting, i love spit, dirty fantasies, titty sucking probably, using ropes, hair pulling (lmfaooooo), threats of violence, dirty talk, inexperienced reader, spit!, overstimulation, humiliation kink, Suguru is kinda pathetic, actually real pathetic, don't get your hopes up idk

Artist Credit: @/tsumusbeloved (on twitter)

A/N: FINALLYYYYY. This has been sitting in my drafts for like 3 months!!! I hope yall enjoy!!!

Tags: @syubseokie @yasu-1234 @cassayeee @glmpsfs @struxkbylightning @aotdump @oidloid @sunnysdiarythoughts @stillseren @lovebittenbyevans @avaatara @elliesndg @luv-kae @megtheebimbo @buttercupblu143 @toffeebrat @kaqua@moggleatlife @candy-s72 @sukunadckrider @xixflower @apchmon

It’s the shrill screech of the metal meeting metal on the train tracks that Suguru enjoys most about his work. How this massive tank of metal carrying so many people can just fly across the country, providing beautiful views of miles and miles of desert sands and mountains. The wildlife roams free on the frontier without a care in the world. And the train just keeps going, filling the sky with thick curls of black smoke.

Yeah, this train has many people on it.

Which means, this train has plenty of goods that will soon be his.

“Ah, you dropped your hat, boss.” A smooth voice speaks behind Suguru, holding open the train door as one other clambers in. Suguru kindly grabs his hat from the man, placing it atop his head as he watches his partner take the last person’s hand, lifting them inside.

It’s a woman, small and with strawberry blonde hair. She grabs onto the man before her. The disgust is clear on her face as her eyes roam along his body.

“Couldn’t pick another day to wear no shirt, Larue?” She complains, spreading a small cloud of dust as she brushes her clothes off.

Larue shrugs, chuckling lightly while he closes the train door. The rushing roar of the winds finally subsides. “It’s hot as all hell outside, Manami. Why not be shirtless? Besides, it gives everyone something spectacular to gawk at.” He motions towards his chest where his new set of ink lies – two hearts, one where each of his nipples are.

“A drunken bet gone right, if you ask me,” Larue had said the night after. “They’re gonna love these at the whorehouse.”

“If you two’re finished…” Suguru begins. Both Larue and Manami straighten up. “I wanna get in ‘n outta here. No funny business. Larue, take the back of the train. Better for you to be there in case the conductor gets any ideas. Grab what ‘ya can get your hands on – jewels, shoes, money. Don’t matter.” Suguru taps his chin in thought, running through his mental list to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. “Oh! And don’t forget to check the bars for any spoons or forks. Y’know what that silver’s worth. Me ‘n Manami will take the front of the train.”

Larue nods, no further instruction needed and Manami smiles next to him excitedly. She quickly shuffles over to Suguru’s side, looping her arm through his and Suguru rolls his eyes before slipping his arm out of her hold. Manami shoots him a pouty look before she quickly recovers, folding her arms over her chest.

“Alright, Boss. I’m ready.” She says with a hushed tone. Larue gives one more nod before he turns around and heads the opposite way. He slides the door slightly ajar, peering inside and just after he enters and the door has been shut and locked, Suguru and Manami hear the muffled shrieks of the passengers in the car.

“Hands in the fucking air! This is a stick up!”

Suguru peers down at Manami who is already staring up at him with eager eyes. And it takes everything in Suguru to not roll his eyes in response. She really gets on his last nerve.

‘I gotta get rid of her after this one,’ he thinks as he moves past the woman and into the opposite end of the train.

He slips through the door, closing it quietly behind Manami once she’s in. No one bothers to look up when they come in and Suguru counts his lucky stars that this will be easier than he anticipated. They make their way along the aisle, offering soft smiles to the passengers that happen to look up as they pass. Suguru thinks there’s nothing but a bunch of carefree monkeys too relaxed and stupid as all hell on this train. They don’t even know what’s coming and if they know what’s good for them, they won’t bother to fight back when they find out.

He lets Manami do the work of maintaining a mental checklist of every item worth its salt in this train car. This is where he’ll leave Manami to do her part. Then Suguru will take the final car where the stragglers usually reside. Larue is already taking care of everything in the back. When he’s done, he’ll pile up all the goods in an empty car and then make his rounds to grab what Manami and Suguru collect.

When they reach the end of the current car, Suguru turns to Manami who is already reaching into her blouse. She beams, eyes locked on Suguru as she slowly pulls out a pretty little Colt’s revolver. Her lips pull up at the corners, a sly grin on her face. If it’s meant to be alluring to Suguru, it’s not working. In fact it’s having the opposite effect. It’s so annoying, the way her pupils dilate when she looks at him. It’s only been a few months since Manami joined their group, but it’s only getting worse for Suguru. She spends half her time trying to seduce him and failing. And it’s not that Manami is unattractive. She’s a very beautiful woman, but she’s not exactly Suguru’s type.

He’s looking for someone a bit more…inexperienced when it comes to this life of crime. Someone he can mold into his ideal woman, untouched by the roughness that west has to offer. Manami has been doing this for far too long, and already has habits that consistently get under Suguru’s skin. She’d never interest him that way.

The pink haired woman flashes Suguru her gun, pointing her chin towards the last car as a signal for him to go on. Suguru nods, spinning on his heel and heading towards his destination. And just in time too, because he hears the door on the other end of the train car close and he knows Larue has finished and has come to assist Manami.

The train car slides shut behind Suguru right as he hears the passengers scream in the car behind him. It’s louder than the first instance and catches the attention of the passengers in his car who now stare at him with wide eyes, mouths agape like a sea of fish.

Suguru rubs the nape of his neck, frowning. Then, offering a goofy grin, he mutters, “Ah well…” He reaches behind him, wrapping his nimble fingers around the cool, wooden handle tucked into his waistband. He whips out his revolver, the sun glaring off of the fancy gold weapon as Suguru aims it at the passengers who all shriek in terror. The women clutch their jewels. The men hold onto their women. And Suguru? He laughs raucously before he barks out, “Put ‘em up!”

- - - - - -

It’s a little surprising how easily the heist goes, but Suguru tries not to give it too much thought. You start thinking something’s gonna go wrong and it damn sure will. While Manami is guiding passengers into the back cars, Larue has the conductor held hostage, locked away with threats of a bullet to his skull unless he continues driving. He’d only shown his face and quickly hid away in his cabin when Suguru told him to use his fucking brain unless he wanted it splattered across the window.

Now, Suguru finds himself roaming the cabin to see if there are any stragglers. And there is one. A very beautiful woman, at that. There you sit, in the last seat of the train car. He slowly makes his way over to you. Suguru thinks you must be some type of saloon girl. Your pretty little dress and waist neatly cinched in a leather corset is the giveaway. He glances over his shoulder, just to be sure this cabin is empty, only to find that it truly is only himself and you left. He hates having to wrangle the stragglers. That’s Manami and Larue’s job. And Suguru hates it even more when they’re not doing it.

He tightens the grip on his gun, turning to give you an earful until his eyes meet yours. They’re so wide and glistening, like you’re on the verge of tears. Your lips are quivering, your bottom lip protruding in a pout. It reminds him of the look Manami gave him just before the heist started. Except when coming from you, for some reason, it’s bringing out a different reaction. 

His heart rate quickens, and Suguru’s hands suddenly feel clammy and not from the heat in this train car. He can feel sweat beginning to bead on his forehead and he has to swallow to quell the dryness that’s forming in his throat. Then he’s tucking his weapon away into his holster and moving towards you.

“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” Suguru speaks calmly as he takes the seat in front of you. You peer up at him, with apparent fear in your eyes and he wants nothing more than to see that look disappear. Usually, he’d use force to get you out and rounded up with the rest of the passengers. He’s not sure why, but there’s something about you that makes Suguru want to take care of you. “Why didn’t you leave with the rest of the crowd?” He questions.

You’re fidgeting with the fabric of your dress in your lap, visibly shaken even as Suguru removes his hat and sets it on the seat in front of you before he sits down.

“I–” you clear your throat and bite down on your lip, seemingly to calm your nerves. 

“I’m not gonna hurt ya, ma’am,” he tells you softly, reassuring you. “Just wonderin’.” Suguru takes this time to drink in your features – how soft you look, the way your body so beautifully fills that dress of yours, how you’ve got a face that will be burned into his memory long after this encounter.

And for some reason, it also feels as if it was burned into his memory long before this encounter. There’s a familiarity about you that Suguru can’t quite place. He’s certain he’s seen your face somewhere. He had been through many saloons and brothels in his time traveling the frontier. Perhaps he had run into you in one of the many establishments he frequented? 

No. No, Suguru would remember if he saw a woman who looked like you in any of those places. You would have easily stood out in the crowd. He would have called you up to his room on any of those nights. 

You bite down on your lip as you stare at Suguru. As afraid as you look, you don’t break eye contact. To see you so stricken with fear, and yet you steadily look him in the eye without blinking. You show courage even when faced with danger, and it does something to him. 

The look on your face has him picturing all sorts of things about you and he doesn’t even know your name.

“I was afraid,” you mutter quietly. 

Thankfully so, because Suguru was just about to begin imagining a life outside of crime with you. Which is shocking in and of itself. Three minutes of simply staring at you had him visualizing a future on the prairie hanging laundry on the line while you fed the cattle.

‘Keep it together.’

“Don’t be scared. I’m not gonna hurt nobody,” Suguru reassures you again. He tries to calm your nerves with a smile which seems to work because he sees you visibly exhale. You return his gesture with a small smile of your own, and his imagination runs wild once more.

“Promise?” You ask, Suguru’s smile widens. 

‘Cute,’ he thinks. He wants to see more of those. “I promise, sweetheart.”

He can hear the way you huff, something between a laugh and a sigh of relief. And Suguru finds himself becoming more and more infatuated with you as he keeps the conversation going.

“Gettin’ train tickets ain’t easy. Where ya headed?”

“Just a few towns over. Goin’ to visit family,” you explain, now more relaxed with him. Something about the way he was able to soothe your nerves makes Suguru feel proud.

It also is making him clearly insane, because some sick part of Suguru begins to think he could be your family. If you’ll let him.

“What about you?”

His brows shoot up in surprise. Why would you want to know about him? “Me?”

You nod quickly. “I know you’re…” You lean forward and Suguru mirrors the action as shivers race up his spine when you whisper scandalously, “...an outlaw.”

He leans back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully while he purses his lips together. His gaze is locked onto you because he wonders if you’re up to something. If you’re not as sweet and innocent as you look. But when you lean back and flutter your lashes at him, he begins to doubt it. That sweet face of yours is a rare one to see on this side of the wild west; beautiful and unscarred. You don’t look like you’ve been exposed to anything more dangerous than a thunderstorm. And it’s arousing. The air of innocence that you carry has Suguru shifting in his seat, his pants suddenly feeling tighter.

This is exactly what he’s been wanting. Someone opposite of Manami, someone who is interested in his life, but not involved with crime in the least. As far as he can tell, you’re clean as a whistle. And Suguru likes to think he’s good at reading people.

“Never seen a outlaw before?” He drawls. You shake your head, back to messing around nervously with your dress.

“Never,” you answer softly, batting those pretty, long lashes at him. “Only seen ‘em on signs. Wanted…dead, or alive.”

Oh, you really are sheltered.

“Well, now you’ve seen one in person.” Suguru combs his fingers through his dark tresses, grinning like his criminal status is one to be proud of. To him, he supposes it is. “What d’ya think?”

You do that lip biting thing that Suguru is beginning to realize he finds cute. Maybe it’s a nervous tick, but this time it seems it’s to be you holding back a smile. Everything you do is cute to him. Everything you do is sweet, innocent, arousing.

“I…” You lean forward in your seat again, and whether you realize it or not, it gives Suguru a perfect view of the swell of your breasts. It’s a struggle to keep his focus on your face when your skin looks so smooth, and unmarred, perfect. Those plush lips of yours whisper, “...I think it’s exciting.”

He can only think one thought in this moment.

He wants to ruin you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s excitin’ about it?” He asks, though he has an idea what it is. The travel, not being tied down to anyone or anything, the freedom this life provides. It’s what they all say when they try to make small talk. “Pretty girl like you can’t possibly know nothin’ about this life.”

You inhale deeply, leaning back in your seat and Suguru watches closely, the way your chest rises and falls with the breath. “Well, I never seen a outlaw in person. Surely never spoke to one. And…” You purse your lips together, like you’re contemplating if you should say the next thing. But you do anyway. “I just never thought a outlaw could be so pretty.”

His eyes widen, the corners of his lips rising with a goofy grin. “Pretty?” He chuckles, combing his fingers through his hair again. “You really think so?”

He’s been called a lot of things, but pretty is not one of them.

“Yep. Look at ya.” You stand, moving quickly to cross the small gap between you both and take a seat next to him. You reach for his arm, then hesitate, pulling back for a second. You peer up at Suguru, silently asking permission and he nods. Your fingers ghost along his forearm, over his bicep, along his neck where his Adam's apple bobs with a gulp, and then your hand is cupping his cheek. Your trail leaves behind a trail of goosebumps.

And Suguru’s pants grow tighter.

Suguru has had his fair share of women and men alike during his time as a felon. But you’re particularly tempting. He’s not sure he’s ever wanted someone as badly as he wants you right now and it’s been all of ten minutes in this train car together. But any minute now, his crew is going to come through those doors and tell him they’re ready to go. And then Suguru will have to leave and the chances of him seeing you ever again are slim to none. 

But on the bright side, the chances of him seeing you again are slim to none. It’s a little sudden, but you seem like you want him with the way you’re feeling him up right about now. Maybe you'd let him bury his cock as deep as he can go, fuck you until you’re screaming his name, begging and crying on his cock. Then he’ll fill you with his seed, maybe leave a baby in you to remember him by if you’re lucky and then he’ll grab his spoils with Larue and the rest and go. Then he'll never see you again. 

This desert is far and wide. He’d have you today, then never have to face you again for the rest of his life. A woman like you? You'll be just fine. A pretty face and an even prettier smile. Though he thinks you're a bit naive. Have to be to be sitting here chatting with him like he’s some gentleman you met on a leisurely trip to see your relatives. Regardless, there will be some poor fool out there that'll be happy to have you after he's had his way with you.

‘Weren’t you just daydreaming about settling down with this woman?’

“Pretty eyes,” you hum, pulling Suguru from his filthy fantasies. “Nice skin, pretty lips. Just…very pretty.” Your thumb caresses his skin and his eyes can't help but notice the way your gaze is locked to his lips. He pokes his tongue out, watching your eyes widen just slightly at the motion, as he runs the wet muscle along his lips. And he’s right back in his head, thinking of all the ways he could have you.

There’s no mistaking the thick tension filling the room at this moment. Like a lightning bolt hitting the same spot repeatedly. Each stroke of your fingers along his cheek only intensifies the mood. Suguru’s lips curl into a teasing smirk, and yours into one that matches. “Why do I feel like you're trouble?” He says.

Your smile widens, and like a magnet, Suguru finds himself slowly being drawn closer and closer to you. Even as a soft laugh falls from your lips, his mind is wiped clean of all thoughts that don't consist of you.

“Me? That’s funny comin’ from a outlaw like yourself,” you mutter just as you close the distance between you, pressing your lips teasingly to Suguru's. They barely touch, truly a ghost of a touch but Suguru still has to swallow down the moan that damn near bursts from his chest the second your mouth was close enough to his.

You pull away suddenly, covering your lips as you lean away, your eyes wide with worry. “‘m sorry.”

“What are you apologizin’ for?” Suguru asks, scooting closer.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me…I just…” You’re back to fidgeting with your dress again, and Suguru places a large hand over yours to stop the movement. “You’re a criminal, and I’m just me. I shouldn’t even be talkin’ to you.” You stare up at him with wide eyes, and fuck he wants you.

You look so sweet, so pure looking at him like that. And he feels a little like a piece of shit because while you’re looking at him with probably innocent thoughts floating around in your head, he’s thinking about how he’d love nothing more than to cover your face in his seed.

“I’m not a bad guy,” Suguru lies easily. “Have I done bad things?” He shrugs, because he’s done way too many terrible things to count. Better not to give a real answer to that one. “But I’m enjoyin’ our conversation. The kiss was just a perk. Wouldn’t mind it if it happened again. I’d gladly accept it.”

“But…I don’t even know you…”

‘All the better,’ is what he wants to say, but instead, he tells you, “And that’s fine. Listen–” he squeezes your hand gently. “Best part of bein’ a criminal is that I just do what I want. Don’t gotta ask permission for nothin’.”

Your eyes swim with curiosity. “It’s that easy?”

“Yep. Do what makes ya feel good, sweetheart.”

You still don’t look convinced, and if this next question doesn’t work, Suguru will have no choice but to tie you up and dump you in the other train car with the rest of the hostages. He doesn’t have much time to waste trying to get you just to kiss him.

“Lemme ask ya…did you like kissin’ me?”

He knows he should be worrying about the heist, not some pretty face distracting him from the job. But when you speak again, he tells himself the job can go to hell.

“Yes…but…I got scared. I– I’ve only done some things with a man…” you admit quietly. “And I’m not too good at it.”

Fuck. He has to have you.

“That’s not a problem, sweetheart,” he reassures you, and you beam.

Your hand grasps onto Suguru’s, squeezing tightly. “Really?”

He nods. “I don’t got much time before I gotta leave, but I can show ya some things real quick.”

“You’ll show me? How to do things?” Your voice is eager, so ready. Suguru is finding it hard to contain how much you’re turning him on right now. “Like kissin’ and…y’know other stuff?”

“What kinda stuff?” He asks, because he wants you to say it. Wants to know how far you’re willing to go if you’ve never done a damn thing before. You pinch your lips together, turning your head away shyly. But Suguru gently cups your chin, turning you to look at him again.

“What kinda stuff?” He repeats. “Tell me.”

“Stuff…that makes a man…y’know…”

He grins, tauntingly. “Enlighten me,” he whispers.

“Stuff to make a man…” you worry your lip between your teeth. “...feel good.”

Oh hell. 

What type of good deeds has Suguru done to find himself here? With someone as virtuous as you, who is asking him of all people to show you how to please him? He has half a mind to tell you no. He’s got shit to do and his partners are bound to come looking for him any minute. But his cock is screaming within the confines of his pants to get into those undergarments of yours. And there’s no argument to be had here. 

He’s listening to his dick.

Suguru crashes his lips to yours, swallowing up the yelp that escapes you from the sudden kiss. “I’ll teach ya whatever ya want, pretty girl.” He groans into your mouth. 

He kisses you hard, but slowly, giving you time to catch up. You’re a little slow to pick up, but you get there. Your lips slot against his, fingers slipping into his hair and holding on tight, making Suguru groan into the kiss once more.

“We don’t got a lotta time,” he breathes against you.

You nod, pulling away to look up at him. “What d’ya want?”

You.

He needs you – bent over the passenger seat and holding onto the bar sitting atop it while he fucks you from behind. He needs you sitting on his face, needs your hand around his length. But he’s looking at your face again, so desperate for instruction. Looks at your lips, swollen from the little bit of kissing you’ve been doing. And he knows exactly what he needs in this moment.

“Ever had a cock in your mouth?” He shifts, sitting back against the seat.

You shake your head.

“Ever touched one?”

Another shake of your head.

“What have you done?”

You hum, thinking only for a short time before you answer. “Kissed.”

What fucking luck.

Doesn’t matter what they score off the train today. This is the biggest reward of all.

“Good,” Suguru says, tugging your hand until you stand. With a grin, he guides you to the floor until you’re sitting up on your knees. “There won’t be another man who’s had ya then. I’ll show ya how to please me, make me feel good.” 

You nod, and Suguru can’t believe how easy this was as he fumbles with his belt, quickly undoing the buckle. He yanks his pants down, along with his underwear. Only to his knees. He wants to be able to get up quickly if needed. Suguru’s dick sits against his stomach, fat and long, with a harsh red tip that leaks with precum. He peers down at you, your eyes honed in on his length.

“Touch it,” he whispers encouragingly.

Your eyes meet as you move, your hands wrapping around Suguru tenderly, pulling a hiss from him. You hold his length like it’s a foreign object, and he supposes it is to you since it’s the first time you’ve done. Suguru grits his teeth, bringing a hand up to your fist. You’re simply touching him and his dick is throbbing in your grip.

“Move your hand…up ‘n down,” he tells you. “Like this.” He guides you, helping to move your hand in slow and light pumps until you’ve found a rhythm that works. His head falls back as the pleasure takes over. “Ahhh–shit, just like that, pretty girl.”

“It’s so big…” you sigh, licking your lips as you stroke his cock slowly.

From here, Suguru is certain he has a perfect view of you. Eyes wide and curious while you observe every ridge and vein running along his length. It turns him on beyond measure, his hips jerking upward in your grasp. 

“Damn,” he moans, fucking himself into your hands. For someone with no experience, you hold his dick just right. He never knew a woman’s touch could feel this good, but you’re a natural talent. You stroke him so good, his mouth falls slack as he lets himself enjoy the feeling of your hands around him. But you surprise him, just as you’ve been doing all this time, his eyes snapping open just in time to watch you lick from the base of his length all the way to the tip, teasing the slit with your tongue and lapping up the bead of precum that sits there.

“It’s salty,” you giggle before you kiss down his shaft, bringing your attention to his balls, kissing and licking the two orbs teasingly. Suguru inhales sharply, eyes rolling to the back of his head as the sensation makes his head swim with pleasure. Especially when your hand wraps around Suguru’s length again, pumping him up and down, slowly as you continue to lap at his balls.

“You’re already so good at this,” Suguru pants heavily.

“I am?” 

He can hear the excitement in your voice, so eager to please him. It turns him on knowing that you’re trying so hard to make him feel good. He wonders if you can feel his cock throb in your hands.

“So fucking good,” he praises you, loving the way you hum against him.

“Can I put it in my mouth?” You ask sweetly, squeezing your hands around his cock.

“God, please.”

When you take Suguru into the warmth of your mouth, you hum around him, and the vibrations make him shiver, back arching off of the seat. His palm finds the back of your head, his hips rolling up so he can shove his cock as far as possible without hurting you. He’s gentle at first. You’ve never done this before, after all. He wants to give you the time you need to adjust, though he can’t afford to give you too much. Which seems to be just fine, because just like before, you catch on quickly. You take his cock damn near to the base, and you take it so well, relaxing your throat for him so it’s easy. 

“Could fuck this pretty little mouth all day,” Suguru grunts, pumping into you. “So goddamn good.” The sound of his balls slapping against your chin as he fucks your face has his legs trembling, pleasure shooting straight up his spine. He wants to grab your head and push you down further, make you swallow all of him until he blows his load down your throat, then make you swallow that, too. But he doesn’t want to cum just yet.

He craves more from you. He needs more from you.

You hum again, sending another vibration through him as your fingers come up, caressing his balls. And Suguru squeezes his eyes shut, trying so hard not to cum. “Ah– shit, shit!” He pushes at your shoulders, forcing you off of him with a loud and wet pop. You look rather pleased with yourself, smiling when you see his red cheeks and the way he rapidly tries to catch his breath.

Like he noted before. You’re trouble.

“Fuck, you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he gasps, staring at your chin dripping with saliva and his juices. Suguru watches through hooded eyes as you swipe it away. He could watch you on your knees all day, taking his cock down your throat time and time again. But unfortunately, time is not on his side today. He needs to hurry it up.

“C’mere, pretty,” he calls for you, taking your hand. You stand, waiting for your next instruction as Suguru leans forward in his seat. His hands find your waist, pulling you close enough that he can press a kiss to your stomach before he leans back again. “Pull up your skirt for me.”

“Okay…” you agree, shakily. You reach for the hem of your skirt, pulling the layers of fabric as high as it’ll go. Suguru always hated these damn dresses. It’s like digging for gold trying to get through every damn piece of clothing. But eventually, you get to the end, revealing your bare thighs to him. Soft, plush, beautiful. But what he’s truly interested in remains concealed by your underwear.

Suguru swallows hard before he drags his finger along your clothed pussy, grinning when your thighs tremble just barely. His gaze glides back up your form until they rest on your face, watching as your mouth falls open with a silent moan. 

Hard to believe you’ve never been touched here. Also, so very arousing to think you’ve never been touched here. He thanks his lucky stars that you’re allowing him to be the first.

He slips his finger into the fabric, his slender fingers quickly finding your slit and sliding along your folds. He sucks in a sharp breath when he feels how soaked you are. He briefly brushes a finger against your entrance, pausing when he feels you tense up.

“Might hurt a little,” he warns as softly as he can manage right now. But you whisper, “go ahead”, hands coming to rest on his shoulders as he dips his finger into your pussy, biting back a moan when he feels your soft walls clench down on his hand. It’s tight, as expected but he moves slowly, pulling back every so often to work his way further.

You whimper above him, squeezing his shoulders as your breaths come rapidly while Suguru pumps his finger in and out of your hole. Your bottom lip sits between your teeth, and your brows are knitted together.

You’re enjoying this. 

And he’s enjoying watching you.

Suguru presses his thumb to your clit, slowly circling the sensitive nub. Dark eyes lock with yours as his other hand finds the top of your dress where he hooks his fingers into the cups and pulls it down. Your breasts spill out of the fabric and your breath hitches when the air caresses your nipples. Suguru kneads the soft flesh, his thumb swiping across one of the hardened buds. 

“Ahhh, yes,” you moan, your voice barely above a whisper. Your head falls back with a loud gasp as Suguru slips another finger into you. 

“Bein’ real good for me,” he coos. His dick grows painfully harder as he slowly thrusts his fingers inside of you, while his thumb stimulates your clit. He’s panting trying to hold himself together while he preps you for what he wants next. Your hips move on their own, riding Suguru’s hand, chasing your high. 

“Feel good?” He grunts, fingers slipping into you over and over, curling inside, and hitting your sweet spot and you can’t help but to gasp quietly each time Suguru touches it. 

“Y-yes, feels incredible,” you whine.

Suguru’s eyes are locked on your center where he watches his fingers disappear into your cunt over and over, your slick coating his hand more with each thrust. It only adds to Suguru’s struggle to keep it together as he ignores the pulsing need of his cock. Your pleasured moans and the squelching sound of your dripping pussy fill the space of the train car.

“I’m–” you breathe harshly against him and he feels your walls squeeze down on his digits. You’re close already.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart?” Suguru’s fingers dip into you faster. His eyes linger on your face as his thumb rubs tight circles on the sensitive bud between your legs. Your eyes flutter closed, mouth hanging open as a delicious moan rushes past your lips, your grip on Suguru’s shoulders tightening so much it stings. But he loves it, loves feeling your pussy squeezing down on his fingers, sucking them deeper as your release crashes over you until he can feel your cum dripping down his fingers and into his palm as he keeps pumping into you.

Suguru sighs as he stares at his fingers, slowly pulling them from you. He licks his lips, admiring his slick covered hand.

He’s never taken the time to just enjoy the moment with anyone. Never cared much to please a woman. It’s easier for him to just get himself off and high tail it out of there. No attachment to these ladies, no reason to stick around. But what is it about you that makes him want to see all the ways your body is capable of falling apart? Because it’s a beautiful sight to behold. 

“Outlaw…” you murmur, slipping your undergarments down your legs until you’re able to kick them off. You push Suguru back by the shoulders, lifting your skirt so that you can easily maneuver into his lap. His hands find your hips beneath your dress as you straddle him, and his thumbs caress the soft skin gently.

“Yeah, beautiful?”

So beautiful. He can’t stop staring at you and your eyes, glazed over with desire. You lean forward, the heat from between your legs making Suguru’s length twitch. It lightly taps your core and you gasp. Your hands clutch onto the bar that runs along the top of the train seat, one on each side of his head. Suguru’s palms glide around to your backside, squeezing the flesh of your ass. You brush your nose against his, soft breaths mingling with his as you whisper, “make love to me, outlaw…” just before your lips touch.

And Suguru’s groaning into your mouth, because this kiss is different. It’s hungry, hot, full of want and need. It’s sloppy and rushed, because you’re both aware of the time crunch you’re in. It’s intoxicating, addicting, the way he never wants to stop kissing you. To hell with the heist.

“Ready for me, pretty girl?” Suguru pants, a hand gripping his cock. He can feel the heat of your pussy radiating off of you and it makes him all the more eager to have you.

Your eyes are wide, filled with something Suguru thinks may be excitement. He’s not sure he sees any hesitation or fear behind your eyes. You want him badly, it’s clear as day. He wants you just as badly, if not more. So he positions himself at your entrance, nudging your hole gently with his tip. 

A small whimper slips past your lips, and Suguru kisses you sweetly. “It’s only gonna hurt for a second,” he coos. “Promise…”

He kisses you again, muttering, “I’m pushin’ in…” against your lips.

You close your eyes, teeth digging into your bottom lip as Suguru rolls his hips forward, slowly sinking his tip into your pussy, only stopping when you let out a harsh breath.

“‘S a tight fit,” he murmurs through gritted teeth. An understatement. Your pussy is gripping him with so much force, he’s struggling to breathe. You’re holding him hostage within your walls and the feeling has him tightening his hold on your ass. “You alright?”

Because he wants to make sure it feels good for you, too. Your pleasure is his. Which is a whole new feeling for him in and of itself. He’s aware of how the tables have turned. What started as him wanting to show you ways to please him, turned into him desperate to please you. But he likes it that way.

You nod, moaning quietly when Suguru keeps moving forward. “Ohhh…” 

“God, this pussy is so fuckin’ –” he can’t even finish his sentence. He needs to focus all his attention on not cumming already.

You take him all the way to the base, moaning loudly when you fully sink onto him. Your grip tightens around the bar, steadying yourself as Suguru lifts you by your ass before pulling you back down on him, so slowly. “Fuuuck–” he groans. He thrusts into you at a leisurely pace, slow and controlled, giving you time to adjust to his size. 

But his kisses…they’re rough. Such a contrast to the way he’s fucking you right now. The pleasure is overwhelming to Suguru, and when your tongue slips into his mouth, it’s him that’s whimpering now, thrusting just a little faster, a little harder.

“Damn, you take my cock so good, pretty girl–” he growls into your mouth. “Love the way you ride me.” He smacks your ass hard, eyes falling to your breast, bouncing up and down with the rhythm of his thrusts. He takes one into his mouth, greedily lapping at your nipple, nipping and sucking and loving the way your cries get louder.

“Oh my god, fuck!”

“Ride my cock, pretty. You already do it so good. Wanna see you ride me.” Suguru groans. He releases his hold on you, hands coming up to play with your breasts while you bounce wildly on his dick. He lifts your dress, relishing the view of his length, glistening with your slick, vanishes into your tight cunt over and over. “Shiiiitttt…”

You slip a hand into his tresses, pulling hard and forcing him away from your nipples. You pull so hard Suguru has to close his eyes because the sensation sends goosebumps igniting across his body. That, combined with the way you keep taking him to the tip before slamming down on his cock repeatedly. Fuck, you’re a quick learner.

Your pussy is what it feels like every single time he pulls off a heist successfully. Like fucking heaven. And he never wants to leave it.

His eyes flutter open, just enough to see your breasts bouncing with every rise and fall of your hips. Your velvety walls hug him tight, so fucking good, Suguru thinks he'd like to be able to have you all the time. Hell, he has half a mind to take you with him once they’re off this damned train. Being able to have you like this any time he wants, watch your body come undone under him, on top of him, in any position you’ll let him have you. He’d even give up this outlaw life if you wanted him to. Settle down, start a family if that’s what you wanted. The thought of it makes Suguru more excited than he’ll ever admit.

Each time your pussy sucks him back in, begging for him to cum, he can suddenly picture a life outside of this. Each time those sexy little noises fall from your sweet lips, he can suddenly envision raising a family with you, building himself a life where he's able to hear those sounds any time he desires. 

He lets his mind drift to these fantasies while he can, enjoying the feeling of you and the sounds you gift him with. 

There's a fire pooling in his belly, growing hotter each time his balls meet your ass. He's gonna blow his load here any second. And he can't wait. He wants to cum inside your walls, wants to thrust himself so deep into you that there's no way you're not carrying his child when he's done. Least you'll have something to remember him by if you tell him you don’t want shit to do with him after this. A sweet woman like you with a wanted felon? Of course you’d prefer to get your rocks off while you can and move on. Which is fine.

Because Suguru is gonna remember you, anyway. He’ll remember the way you squeeze around him, the way you moan the little nickname you’ve given him, the way your cunt feels fucking unlike any other woman’s. You’ve got him mesmerized. 

So much so, that he doesn't even notice the cool press of steel against the center of his forehead. 

“Ohhh,” you moan, whimpering, “Please…please…will you put a baby inside me, outlaw?” 

It’s like you read his mind, and Suguru’s eyes snap open, balls tightening as his release threatens to come at any moment. But then his eyes see the stiffness in your arm, see the glimmer of metal as the sunlight reflects off it through the windows, and he finally realizes you've got his gun to his head, and maybe that’s actually why his balls are tightening. You’ve got this wicked grin on your flushed face as you keep riding him. Hard, fast, walls squeezing him in a vice grip. And he can't do shit but let his eyes roll to the back of his head, let his pleasure race straight down his spine and into his balls as his release shoots from his cock before he has a chance to get ahold of himself.

But you don’t let him get a drop inside, lifting yourself smoothly off his lap just as fat, hot streams of cum land messily in his lap and on his stomach. Suguru’s gasping for air, still struggling to figure out what the fuck is going on. And you don’t give him a second to catch his breath, to let his mind catch up before you’re wrapping your hand around his cock again, squeezing and stroking his length until he’s so overstimulated his jaw is cramping up from how hard he’s gritting his teeth to keep from crying out.

“What the fuck are you ahhh–” you run your thumb over his leaking tip, your eyes alight with joy when his hips buck up automatically, legs trembling as you keep pumping him, though his balls are beyond empty. 

You tsk, shaking your head as you press the barrel of the gun harder against his skin. “Where’s that sweet outlaw from before?” You drawl.

Your voice has changed. No longer soft spoken, shy and sweet. The hardness of your tone tells Suguru all he needs to know. The memories come flooding back. And now he realizes why you looked so familiar when he first laid eyes on you. 

Your face has been plastered on wanted posters in damn near every town he and his partners have stopped in. Murder, robbery, drunkenness, prison escape, cheating at cards. All the crimes that should have you in the town square hanging, you’re wanted for. Somehow, you’ve managed to never get caught.

How could he have let his guard down? How could he have fucked up this badly?

‘Thinking with your dick. That’s how.’

“Guess it takes an outlaw to know one,” He grits out, nostrils flared with fury. He can only hope his crew comes through those doors soon, though it’ll be fucking humiliating to be caught in this position.

A giggle spills from your lips and the sound makes Suguru sick to his stomach. You don’t even sound like the same person from before. “Y’all are pretty easy to spot. ‘Specially when all y’all think with your cocks–” You echo his thoughts, emphasizing the word by squeezing Suguru’s slowly softening length in your hand. You frown, releasing your hold on him. “Huh, thought you’d be able to gimme another one.”

He inhales deeply, shakily, narrowing his eyes at the woman – the stranger – that stands before him. “Everything you said was a lie, then.”

It’s not a question. He knows. Because you’re just like him. Maybe even worse.

Laughter bursts from deep within, like what he said was the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. “It really is easy to fool y’all men. Just gotta make our pussies feel reallllll tight and wet and y’all don’t question nothin’.”

You climb off of the seat, taking the gun off his head while you fix your undergarments, unbothered and careless. And Suguru decides to act fast, takes this moment to lunge for you. But he doesn’t make it far, because his head is yanked back roughly the moment he jumps forward. His scalp burns, and he reaches back, feeling a thick knot tied around the metal bar that sits atop the train seats. The same metal bar you were just holding onto moments ago.

“You fuckin’ tied my hair to the seat?!” He growls.

And you chuckle, shifting your dress around until you’re decent again. The gun is pointed back at Suguru’s face, and he puts his hands back down, not daring to try and free himself when you’ve got a revolver ready to blow his brains out.

“And your hands are next,” you promise in a sing-song voice. You keep your word, spinning around briefly to reach between the wall and your original seat, where you’d apparently hidden a small rope. You make quick work of tying Suguru’s hands behind his back, leaning a little too close to him as you finish the knot. 

He can feel your breaths against his neck, and right now, if he’s being honest with himself – which he may as well be since he could very well be dead soon – it’s confusing him. Because he feels like he fucking hates you, is repulsed by you, could spit in your face right now. Oh, he really fucking wants to. But something tells him you’d like that anyway. And the thought of your face, depraved and covered in his saliva is making his still exposed length hard again. Even when you tug harshly on the rope for good measure, chuckling low in Suguru’s ear when you hear him hiss in pain, his cock stiffens further.

And of course you notice, your eyes glancing down to his lap, where the sticky mess you left him with lies. “Sure you don’t wanna go again?” You tease, laughing when Suguru scowls. 

You like him upset, and probably a little pathetic, because you press your lips to his pout, kissing him hungrily. And apparently, Suguru is as pathetic as he looks, because – and it’s a surprise to him, too – he kisses you back! Your tongues tangle during this brief meeting of your lips, fighting for dominance, though it’s apparent who’s the one in control here. 

The filthy moans between you are interrupted when Suguru feels that damned gun under his chin now, applying enough pressure to push him back. Only a line of your mixed saliva connects you two as you stare down at him in amusement.

“Like I said…” you peer down quickly at Suguru’s lap before whispering. “Aaaalways thinkin’ with your cock.” You step back, pointing the gun at him once again.

“What do ya want?” He asks, pulling at his restraints to no avail. He’d love nothing more than to wipe that cocky smile off your face and flip the tables on you, but it’s not looking good for him.

“What I want…” You wiggle the gun in his face, tauntingly. “...is already mine, outlaw.” There’s humor in your tone, and your body language is relaxed. You couldn’t see Suguru as less of a threat if you tried.

You piss him off.

And make him so fucking hard.

He’s confused!

The noise of the doors to the train cabin opening can be heard and Suguru grins. You’re fucked now. Larue is going to put a bullet between your eyes and sure, Suguru’ll be sad about it. But better you than him. You were a great fuck, he’ll admit. And yes, he entertained the idea of giving you a kid or two, maybe getting a little cabin out in the prairie. But that fantasy’s as dead as you’re about to be. Sad that he won’t be–

“The guy with the nipples and the girl have been taken care of, boss!” A chipper voice sings. 

That…is not Larue.

Suguru couldn’t turn his head if he tried, courtesy of this goddamn knot, but he can see the smirk on your face as you nod. “Great work, Hime. And the goods?”

“Already on the move with the others. Just gotta get on the horses when you’re ready.”

You turn your head, staring out the window and nodding again. Out of his peripheral, Suguru can just barely make out the form of two horses, racing alongside the train and he knows he’s screwed.

You sigh, shrugging while feigning sadness as you pout. “Well, outlaw…looks like this is the end of the line.”

Suguru tugs at his ropes again, struggling against the holds. “You gonna leave me here like this?” He gestures with his chin at his…situation. You must be forgetting his entire dick is out for the world to see. And that you’ve tied his hands up. Not to mention his fucking hair! If he has to cut his hair because of this…

You hum, like you’re actually giving deep thought to his question. You’re not.

“Yeah, actually. Think I am.” You lift your dress, not even pretending to be as innocent as you presented yourself to be when Suguru first laid eyes on you. You tuck his gun into the waistband of your undergarments, patting it affectionately. “Thanks for a grand ol’ time, outlaw. If you manage to survive this, we can do it again.”

You shoot him a wink before you lean over him, leaving him with one final kiss on the lips. It’s gentle this time, soft, save for a light nip to his bottom lip that embarrassingly enough, manages to arouse Suguru yet again. 

“At least tell me your name,” Suguru grits out through heavy breaths. “So I can be sure to repay the favor.”

It’s a threat, but you don’t take it as one. You simply smile. It’s warm, almost reminiscent of the woman he met just earlier. The woman he thought you were. But that look is gone as soon as it appeared. You pat his face gently, reaching across the seat to grab his hat that he had set aside when he’d first sat down. You sit it atop your head, wearing it like some sort of crown, and without another word, you leave.

The train cars open, the roaring rush of the wind filling the space for just a moment before they’re shut again, and Suguru is left with nothing but his thoughts and his dick literally out. He leans his head back against the seat, closing his eyes to calm his racing heart and honestly to stifle the pain of his untouched erection.

This has been the wildest ride of his life. Definitely the worst heist he’s ever done. And if he does survive this, does manage to somehow talk his way out of charges and prison time, he’s going to find you. Fuck the robberies. Fuck the brothels. Fuck gambling and drinking all day. Yeah, if he manages to survive this, he will make it his life’s mission to find you again.

Because even after all is said and done, Suguru thinks he might fucking love you.

[fingertipsmp3]

This is such a first world problem but I got a new phone case which I love, but now I miss my popsocket :/

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

At the start of your friendship, Logan noticed how you prefer bigger, bagger clothes. It started with you wearing oversized shirts, and then the fall came, and you'd be in way too big sweatshirts. When the winter came and you only ever wore oversized sweaters and your winter coat was 4 sizes too big he took note that if he ever had to buy you clothes to just buy the biggest he could find so he started doing that and every time he did you were over the moon. "This is so comfortable!!!" You'd squeal and give him a hug after trying it on.

When the two of you get together, Logan is quick to realize two things. You love his leather jacket, and he loves you in it. It's not uncommon for you to "steal" it from him, and each time he catches you in it, a small smile graces his face.

As your relationship continued, it strengthened as well. Anyone who knew Logan knew he wasn't the marriage type, but that changed with you. Your 3rd anniversary was coming up, and after a drunken conversation with Wade, Logan finally came to the realization that he wanted you forever. It was hard to hide what he was doing from you, but he managed to sneak away to a jewelry store. As he left the house, he threw on his jacket and checked to make sure he had his wallet and keys, then he was out the door.

It took 2 weeks of sneaking out and going to different jewelers but he finally found the ring, he found your ring. He will never admit it but tears did form when he found it sitting in the glass case, he knew he found the one, once again.

He quickly checked out and put the box in his pocket. He didn't want a fancy little bag or a receipt. He knew you'd find those too quickly, and then that would make you start questioning things. Feeling the weight of the box in his pocket, it felt like a fire was burning against his skin. He wanted the proposal to be perfect, but he also wanted you to have the ring already dammit.

He sneaked back into the house and hung his jacket up. You weren't home yet so he just went to start dinner, completely forgetting about the ring after a while.

The next day, you had errands to run, and Logan had to go help Wade. You got up with Logan, and the two of you got ready together. You got dressed, grabbed your keys and your purse, and put on his leather jacket before leaving the house. When you threw the jacket on, it was noticeable that he had something in his pocket, but you didn't think anything of it, so you just went to the coffee table to put whatever it was on there. You stuck your hand in the pocket and grasped the small velvet box. When you pulled the box out, you gasped before you could stop yourself.

Logan was in the bathroom doing his hair when he heard you gasp. It was soft enough that he knew you weren't in danger, but it was clear you were shocked by something. Curiosity got the best of him, and he ended up wandering into the living room. "Baby? Are you okay in here?" He asked teasingly, but the color left his face when he saw what you had in your hands. "Oh shit."

"Lo?" You asked meekly as you turn to look at him better. Tears were already forming in your eyes, and you hadn't even opened the box yet. He was afraid to see your reaction when he did open the box if this is how you are right now. He took your hands into his and held them gently, "Baby..." He took the box from you and opened it in front of you, "whatya say? Will you marry me?"

It took you five seconds to respond but those were the longest five seconds of his life, it felt like his heart was about to be ripped from him and he couldn't breath as he waited to hear your response. You never did verbally say yes. You squealed and kissed him passionately before thrusting your hand close to his face "gimme" you said excitedly. You were practically bouncing as you watched him put the ring on your hand, and with tears finally falling freely, you looked at it closely before kissing him more softly. "I love it, it fits perfectly." This was the first purchase he ever made you that fit you just the way it was supposed to.

Request are open!!!!

Taglist: @mahi-tamashi @100percentlazybonez @lanassmarty

[darkbluekies]

What is your yandere's reaction if their darling suddenly asks, "You'd rather have me dead than let me go, right?"

Warnings: mentions of isolation, captivity, death, threats,

Silas:

He would be appalled to hear that. That's not at all what he's doing ― or trying to convey. All he wants is you to be with him, and to not do stupid things that could cause pain for the both of you. He would try to take you in his arms, try to cach your attention.

"No, what? What are you saying? Never in a million years would I want you dead! But I can't let you go, I can't be without you. You're mine and you're stuck with me. That's that. No one is leaving and no one is dying. Say such nonsense again and I will show you that being dead is far worse than being stuck with me."

Dr Kry:

He stares at you, absolutely shocked to hear you say that. How could you ever think that he wants you harm? He doesn't want to hurt you ... it is just necessary, But he doesn't expect you to understand that. Your poor, pure brain is foggy with medicine, you're not in your best state. Dr Kry would try to comfort you to the best of his ability, knowing that there is no reason to try to hide it anymore.

"Darling, you are my most beloved patient ... do you think I want to hurt you? I am doing this to keep you safe. If I didn't, who knows what would happen to you? You could run around and hurt yourself. The world is menacing and would destroy you. You are so perfect, so pure. I don't want you dead. Never."

King Edmund:

He would give you a long look, hesitating on what to say. He doesn't want you to leave him, wouldn't be able to live without you. But would he rather have you dead? Yes, he would rather have you dead than sharing you with anyone. You are for his eyes only, created for him by a higher power that saw what he needed.

"You're damn right in that. You think anyone else is worthy of having you? I don't share anything else in my life, do I? No, exactly. But you don't have to worry about dying, my jewel. It's not like I'm going to let you leave?"

Jerry:

Jerry would weigh the outcomes. You dead ... or you gone? The only light in her life being put out without a chance to ever return ... or alive? It's a clear question ... and a clear answer, but she won't let you know that.

"Have you gone mad? I'm not even going to answer such a stupid fucking question. I'll teach you what happens when asking such stupid ass questions."

Hedwig:

The question would break her. She doesn't want to keep you locked in her room and it certainly doesn't help her case that you like to sit in the window and gaze longingly out towards the garden. She wants things to go back to how they used to be. But to do that, she would have to let you go. Would she rather have you dead? No, of course not. Not in a million years. She wouldn't be able to ansswer the question, only replay it in her head until she couldn't take it anymore. She would press her hands to her ears and crouch down, shaking her head.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop .... please, stop. Stop saying that! I don't want that! None of it! Stop! Oh, my God, stop, please ..."

[azzo0]

Hi! Can I request a super fluffy oneshot of Bakugo proposing to his s/o?! 🥰😭

Affection in the Flow

Summary: Katsuki wants to ask you to marry him. He takes you on a picnic, and everything seems to be going according to plan until he trips in the water and almost loses the ring.

A/N: omg, this is my first request! I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it!

Pairing: Bakugo x gn!reader

Bakugo stood in front of a display case, biting the inside of his cheek. This was the fourth jewelry store he dragged Kirishima to. None of the rings seemed right. He pointed his finger at a ring, and the jeweler slid the display box open, taking out the ring and putting it in a tray for Bakugo to see. He took it in his hand, inspecting the little diamond, tuning out the jewelers blabbing about its delicate cuts and from where it was mined. 

He put the ring back in the tray halfheartedly. At this rate, he was never going to buy a ring. Kirishima put a hand on his shoulder, flashing him a toothy grin, "Katsuki, you don't have to worry about the ring so much. I'm sure N/n will marry you with or without a ring." 

"I know, I know," Bakugo huffed, "I jus' want it to be special, and none of these fucking rings feel right."

Kirishima subtly glanced at the jeweler to see him sporting an offended look. Clearing his throat, he steered Bakugo out of the store, "How about we try one last store? We can come back another day if you don't like anything here."

Bakugo spent a good ten minutes shifting around, glowering at the rings on display. Just when he was going to leave and call it a day, one of the rings caught his eye. The ring had a pear-shaped sapphire with tiny diamonds outlining it. 

"Oi, Shitty Hair. Does an engagement ring have to be a diamond?" He felt almost shy asking Kirishima for advice. 

"Of course not! It can be anything. Heck, it doesn't even need to have a diamond," Kirishima replied. Bakugo looked at the jeweler and pointed at the ring so he could see it up close. It was simply beautiful, just like you. 

"I'm buying this one," he said. He fished out another ring from his pocket.

This one was your ring he'd managed to slip out of your jewellery box in the morning while you were still sound asleep. After making sure the ring was your size, he finally bought it. 

He stepped out of the store, his shoulders sagging with relief. Now, he had to set the perfect moment to ask you to marry him. 

"Oi, are ya ready yet?!" Bakugo called from the kitchen as he packed a few sandwiches and snacks into a picnic basket. The ring was hidden away in the inner pocket of his jacket, poking him in the ribs now and then. 

"Yes," you replied, entering the kitchen, your eyes falling on the picnic basket, "We're going on a picnic?" 

"Yes." He replied, eyes running up and down your outfit. He smirked and pressed a kiss to your lips, "Lookin' pretty." 

"Thank you, Katsuki."

As he drove to the picnic spot, he gave you an ear as you talked about the randomest things, adding a few comments of his own here and there. It was an hour-long drive, given Bakugo had picked a secluded area where there wouldn't be many people. He wanted to have this moment with just you and him.

"That's so many flowers, Katsuki!" You exclaimed once you guys arrived at your destination. Eyes wide, you admired the never-ending stretch of grass and wildflowers. 

"I knew you'd like it," he said, leading you to the shade of a tree. He took the sheet from the picnic basket, laying it out on the grass. He put the picnic basket on the sheet, almost letting out a yelp when the box in his pocket poked him again. 

"Are you alright?" You asked, watching him pull on his jacket awkwardly.

"Yeah, don't worry. Just sit." He replied, taking off the jacket. He sat beside you, crossing his legs. He took in the beautiful scenery spreading in front of him. There were small flowers scattered throughout the grass like tiny specks of colourful paint on a green canvas. He could see a walking trail in the distance. Maybe you two could go and take a small walk after lunch. 

He glanced at you to see you humming as you plucked flowers from the grass and made a chain. His heart threatened to spill out from his chest at the sight of you wearing a daisy crown. He held himself from reaching for his jacket and pulling out the ring.

"Hey, Katsuki, I made you a daisy crown." You said, holding up a flower crown. 

"Hah? I ain't wearin' flowers!" 

"Why not?"

"They probably have bugs creepin' on them."

"They don't. See, I'm wearing one too. If your head feels itchy, I'll search your hair for bugs." 

Giving in, he relucantly leaned forward so you you could put the daisy crown on his head. He gritted his teeth when you whipped your phone out to take annoyingly close-up pictures of his face. 

"So cute," you batted your eyelashes at him. He simply continued staring at you, zoning out. 

"Are you really alright, Katsuki? You've been giving me weird looks today."

"I'm fine." He said, lifting the flap of the basket and handing you a sandwich, "Eat."

"If you're unwell, we can l-" The rest of your sentence was cut off by Bakugo unwrapping the sandwich and shoving it in your mouth. You glared at him as you took a bite, watching him snicker and poke your cheeks. You swatted his hand, turning your face away from his to eat peacefully. 

After lunch, you two went on a walk, Katsuki's thumb brushing over your fingers as he held your hand, wondering what your finger would like with the ring. Several times when you were asleep, he thought of sneaking the ring onto your finger. He did not do it in fear you'd wake up. 

He looked to his side to see your features basking in the green light filtered through the thick canopy of trees surrounding the walking trail. You stopped, putting a hand on his lips as you listened in concentration. The sound of flowing water was heard not far away.

"I think it's a stream," Bakugo said. He took your hand, leading you towards where he could hear the water. 

"Looks like you're right. It's a stream!" Before Bakugo could stop you, you kicked your shoes off, rolled your pants up and stepped into the cool flowing water. 

"Oi, get back here!" Bakugo yelled, "You'll slip!"

"I won't! Come on, it's so relaxing." You waved at him, motioning for him to come over. He let out a groan and removed his shoes, following you into the stream.

"Some of the stones here are fuckin' sharp," he said, "Be careful."

"Don't worry-" You slipped on a rock, almost falling face-first into the water when he caught you. 

"Don't worry," He mimicked your your voice. You puffed your cheeks out at him and tried escaping from his grip. He pulled you towards him, letting out a chuckle as he effortlessly lifted you, an arm under your head, the other under your thighs. You let out a gasp at the sudden movement, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

He looked down into your eyes, slowly inching closer until his lips brushed yours. He remembered the box, sitting in his pocket and moved out of the stream, putting you down. Clearing his throat, he unzipped his jacket, a fierce pink dusting his cheeks. 

You watched him, puzzled at first. Realisation dawned on you when he reached for something in the pocket of his jacket. He pulled out a small navy blue box. Your eyes snapped up to his face to find his intense crimson gaze already set on you. 

"Do you want to spend the rest of your life going on these stupid picnics with me?" He opened the box, revealing the sapphire ring. 

You couldn't help but laugh as tears pooled in your eyes. You looked down at the ring and up again at the man you loved fiercely. You took a step towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

"Yes, Katsuki," you nodded, "Yes, I want to spend my life going on stupid picnics with you." 

He took your face in his hands, catching your lips in a kiss. He pulled away, hands almost shivering with excitement as he took the ring in his sweaty fingers, only for it to slip out of his fingers. 

"Oh, fuck!" He yelled, stomping into the water, frantically looking for the ring. He found it flowing along with the stream and chased after it. Luckily, it got stuck in between two rocks, and he was able to get it back, "Got it!"

He turned around to walk back to you and tripped on a mossy rock. You rushed to him with concern when he remained face first in the water, "Katsuki, are you okay?!"

He sat up with the water flowing past him. He looked up at you, sporting a pout with pink ears. You giggled, taking out a leaf stuck in his hair, "You're pouting."

He grunted, standing up with the help of your hand. He opened his palm, revealing the ring, "This is not what I planned," he mumbled, "We're doin' this shit again."

He grabbed your hand, the ring still in his palm. The box had fallen somewhere while he was chasing after the ring, "Marry me."

"That sounds like an order." 

"It is." He replied cheekily. 

"Guess I have no choice." You smiled, holding your hand out for him. He slipped the ring onto your finger, and you grinned at it, admiring the blue stone outlined with little diamonds.

"I love you, Katsuki." You brought your head to his chest, letting him wrap his arms around you. 

"Love ya too, dumbass." 

You stood in his embrace for the longest time with a pleasant breeze blowing through your hair, leaves rustling around you two, and the water flowing past your ankles. He might have tripped and almost lost the ring, but it still felt perfect because it was Katsuki who put a ring on your finger. 

As long as it was him, you'd agree to marry him in a stream a hundred times in a hundred different worlds.

[halfghostwriter]

“Do Not Offer Sacrifices to the New King.”

No one knows exactly why it happened. One day, there are clear instructions on how to prepare child sacrifices to the ghost king, the next said instructions are covered in green splatters, with bold black letters across them reading “Do Not Offer Sacrifices to the New King.” The phrase was written across every single set of instructions to summon the ghost king ever written down.

Of course, there were skeptics. People who believed some rogue individual was trying to invoke the Ghost King’s wrath by not preparing a sacrifice in exchange for the summoning. It wasn’t long before the first attempt at summoning this new king.

The cultists had prepared a fine sacrifice. The previous king was known to prefer very young sacrifices, as the potential years of life stripped away equated to the amount of power the king would absorb at the child’s death. It was for this reason that they had prepared a child of a mere 6 months old, coating it in the finest jewels and fabrics, and choosing a dull yet beautiful knife to slice through the child at the king’s arrival. The old king was said to enjoy watching the life drain slowly.

As the ritual began, the leader took his place by the child, raising the knife high above his head, preparing to strike down the moment the new king’s eyes were on him. Chanting filled the room, and the sigils on the floor burned with a toxic green glow. The infant began to cry, small hiccups echoing over the sound of ice cracking that began to fill the room. A being whose figure seemed to be made of the cosmos itself began to rise from the circle, eyes closed as it towered over the room. Small tendrils seemed to drift away from it, but kept flinching back, as if actively being restrained. As the beings glowing green eyes began to open, the cult leader leaned forward, preparing to shove the knife into the child.

But he couldn’t move.

He tried to push the knife downward, but it felt as if all of his joints were suddenly fused together. He couldn’t move his body. He couldn’t even move his head. All he could move were his eyes, which locked on to the glowing green pits staring right back at him.

“How… Dare… You….”

The words shook the room, causing the infant to wail. The being, the king, flinched back, and his body began to warp into something… smaller. Younger. A child, barely entering puberty. He floated towards the sacrifice, softly shushing the child as he approached. Delicately, as if it were made of glass, he lifted the sacrifice and held it close, stroking its head as he continued making calm, soothing sounds. He did so until the wails dimmed down to mere hiccups. Once that happened, he turned his eyes to the leader.

“How. Dare. You.”

He kept his voice at a mere whisper. His tone could almost be considered pleasant, had his face not conveyed such burning hatred.

“Did you seriously not listen to my instructions? I wasn’t subtle, writing that on every single ghost king summoning in the world isn’t something just anyone can do. Are you stupid or something?”

The leader wanted to say something. Beg for mercy, plead for forgiveness, anything. But his jaw wouldn’t move. No part of his body would move. He felt cold. He glanced around the room, hoping some other cult member would see his dilemma, would speak up for him. But instead of panicked members on their knees begging for forgiveness, he only saw figures encased in ice.

“Don’t look at them. Look at me.”

The leader’s eyes locked back on to the king’s enraged glare.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. I am taking this child somewhere where they won’t be hurt. You,” the king poked a clawed finger into the left side of the leader’s chest, “are going to help spread the word. Make sure everyone knows not to offer sacrifices to me. You have a lot of influence, I’m sure you can get it done. Oh, but in case you don’t…”

Veins of warm ice began creeping up the leader’s chest, beginning from where the king was poking, down his arm, and up his face.

“There. If anyone, and I mean anyone, offers up a sacrifice as young as yours, at any point in time, those ice veins with expand and freeze you to death. After that, whoever offered up that sacrifice will take your place spreading the word. And don’t worry about your cult members, they’ll defrost within a day to help you out.”

The young king turned away, and floated back to the sigils, small infant in hand.

“You’re pretty lucky, you know. If I weren’t having such a good day, I wouldn’t have just left you off with a warning.”

And with that, the king and the infant leave through the summoning circle in the floor.

Within days, it’s known that the new king despises anyone who dares give him a sacrifice.

[suckerforlovesblog]

Pretty little thing

Pretty little thing Masterlist

Series summary: All Mr. Shelby wanted was to remarry. He had to find himself another wife after the death of Grace, not just to take care of his son Charlie but also to grant him access to the finer society of Birmingham. All he wanted the girl to be was a pretty little thing on his arm who simply submitted, obeyed and followed his orders.

And he did find the perfect girl - young, very good looking, of a good upbringing, smart but little did he expect her to have such a strong mind of her own…

All he wanted to do was break her in, like a horse had to be, and his new wife put up a good fight but eventually he is sure, he will break her and make her his completely.

Series warning: Dark!Tommy, toxic relationship, abuse, rape, non consensual intercourse, rough sex, age gap, Sir kink, choking - all the things that come with rough smut

Chapter 1: The perfect girl

Summary: Thomas Shelby is out searching for a wife. Most young women in Birmingham throw themselves at him but he doesn’t like that and goes out further to search for the perfect girl to be on his arm whilst hanging on his lips.

Chapter Warning: age gap, swearing, mentions of sex

Word count: 1.5k

~ tag list: @ncoleys , @amberpanda99 , @priyajoyy @tommyshelbywhore @swordofawriter @goth-cowgirl-03 @thenattitude @sheun-555 @meetmeatyourworst @bruher @frazie99 @blvebanisters @jessimay89 ~

I‘m very intrigued to hear your thoughts!

Also: please let me know what you would like to read! My requests are OPEN!

End of 1925:

Thomas Shelby was still grieving the death of his beloved wife Grace, even after an entire year, and everyone around him knew. He did blame himself for her death because he gave her the bewitched jewel to wear and even put it onto her himself. And she wore it that night, like a target painted on her forehead. But business had to keep going and Charlie desperately needed a mother figure in his life. Frances, the maid, was doing her best and Ada and Polly came to help out from time the time but it just wasn’t the same. He had even hired a governess, a very pretty thing, blonde and petite and at least fifteen years younger then him, to attend to his son’s needs because he couldn’t always be there for him. Thomas who was now nearing forty, also really enjoyed the governess presence, at least when he bend her over a table, fucked her from behind and she didn’t talk. Other than that he avoided her most of the time and let her do her work.

She fulfilled his needs but it didn’t help him with business.

So, Thomas Shelby called a family meeting at Arrow House and now everyone was sitting in front of him in the drawing room: Arthur and Linda, John and Esme, Polly and Michael, Ada, Finn, Charlie, Curly, Jeremia and his son, and Lizzie, of course. Sometimes he still slept with her but she would never be good enough to be his wife. He did like her but Lizzie’s social standing was beneath his new position as a business man.

“Thank you everyone for coming, eh!”, Tommy’s voice boomed: “I have an important announcement to make and I think I need everyone’s help.” All the people in the small room looked at him. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath and then said: “I decided that it’s time for me to remarry. It will be good for business.” Lizzie looked at him with wide sad eyes, knowing he would never share the feelings she had for him. Arthur stood up, smiling and went up to give Thomas a small hug, “Proud of you, Tom. Linda will help for sure.” Everyone else looked reassuring and Curly started babbling something no one was able to make out. “May I ask what kind of business you think of concluding?”, Polly said. “Yes but I will not tell just yet ‘eh.”, Tommy says, wetting his lip, “I just think a wife will open up new branches for us and make the company more respectable.” He then puts a cigarette between his lips, after fishing it out of the gold case from the pocket of his coat: “Anyways today is a day to celebrate and I invite you all to dinner. Now, Michael, John and Arthur stay, everyone else I see at dinner.” Thomas lights his cigarette whilst everyone leaves the room except for his brothers and Michael. He sits back down and explains the guys what he’s looking for in his future wife, mostly talking to Michael because the girl should be around his age, a very desirable age in his opinion. The four men make a plan to start the search for his wife tomorrow, starting with all the respectable families in Birmingham and then toast to their success with Irish whiskey, of course.

Early spring of 1926:

Thomas and Michael looked at all the young women in Birmingham, from a respectable upbringing at least. John joked that the two of them fucked their way through Birmingham and that was true to some extent. None of the girls satisfied Thomas’ needs however and Michael was growing tired. “If you keep going like that Tom, we will never find a girl for you. One is not tall enough, the next one doesn’t have enough tits, another one is too stupid, then she is pretty but not gorgeous. This is exhausting.”, Michael says looking at him from the drivers seat of the new Bentley Thomas got. The car was extremely luxurious and expensive.

“Well Michael, we gotta find the perfect girl for me, eh.”, he answered, taking a puff of his cigarette, “She needs to be smart and eloquent for me to be able to bring her around business partners. But she ought to be gorgeous as well because then negotiations will be even easier because men are dumbstruck if they’re accompanied by beautiful women.” Michael also lights a cigarette: “I get that Tom but if we keep going at that speed my dick won’t work anymore with the girl I may marry in the future because I emptied everything I have into some girls” They both laughed and kept driving to meet Alfie Solomons in Camden Town for business.

After driving past the first couple of buildings, he barks at Michael to stop the car and Thomas basically jumps out. He brushes his coat down, fishes a cigarette out of its case and puts it into it mouth leaving Michael more than puzzled. Thomas started walking towards a building, lighting the cigarette with a match and then enters a shop, a tailoring shop it appears. Michael still sits in the car, smoking a cigarette as well and waiting for him to come back.

Thomas looks around the shop, searching for the woman he just saw. He only saw her side profile but Tommy knew she was the one, now on his way to make her his, willing to do whatever it might take and hoping she wasn’t already married. Fuck, even if she was, he were to make her his for sure.

He was so occupied with his thoughts that he didn’t even hear the little bell ring as he entered through the door and then the people inside the shop turning to him. The pretty woman he searched for was sitting behind a desk to his right and he made his way towards her but was stopped abruptly in his step by the owner of the shop. “Sir”, the small man called out, “how may I help you?” “Aye, I need a new suit please and may I have a word with the young lady at the desk?”, Thomas answers. “For sure”, the man says in a low purr, scarred of the dominance in his voice, “we will leave you to it, Sir.” Tommy nods and the man leaves the shop through the back door, pulling a women behind him.

Thomas approaches the woman. She was already looking at him through her Y/E/C eyes, smiling lightly. “Hello miss, my name is Thomas Shelby, owner of the Shelby Company Limited. I saw you out in the street and you caught my eye”, he said and smiled an earnest smile. “My name is Y/N, my farther is the owner of the shop.”, the girl answered. He looked at her thoroughly and she got even more prettier the longer he looked at her. Although Thomas didn’t feel any affection towards her but she was very pretty for sure and he knew that she would be the perfect wife: young, a pretty face and fine features, nice hair, a slim figure. Her voice was very calm and had a pretty sound to it. He knew she would be the perfect little thing on his arm. He looks at her with his icy blue eyes, “Tell me sweetheart, how old are you?” “I just turned 18, Sir”, she said. The obedience and innocence in her voice made him hard, without help anyways, for the first time since Grace died. His heart ached for his lost love but he needed this to work and pushed the face of his dead wife out of his thoughts. “You’re not married, eh?”, he asked the girl more nearly twenty years younger then him. She shook his head, seemingly submitting him to, scarred of his booming figure. He really liked that and smiled: “Please get your farther to me, I need to speak with him. In private. And take the measurements for the suit I ordered, will you sweetheart?” She got up, nodding and getting her farther at first, afterwards measuring him and writing all the details down for his order. She was sent out shortly after, leaving her farther with the unknown man with the pretty blue eyes.

“Tell me Sir, is everything to your liking so far”, the old man asked Thomas. “Yes, indeed”, he answered with his thick Birmingham accent, “I would like to marry your daughter. I know this sounds rushed but she immediately caught my eye and I can provide for her very well.” The older man, the girls farther, looked at him reserved and averse. Thomas looked at him with his blue piercing eyes, radiating pride and dominance and the older man submitted. “Listen, eh, I give you a great deal for her and promise to provide and care for the girl.”, Thomas says, putting another cigarette between his lips, letting it dangle for a little while before lightning it with a match.

He pursued the conversation for a little while longer, settling everything important, like the wedding date and the money the family will receive. After it was all settled Thomas went outside of the shop, calling Michael to set up and then seal the document.

The girl came back into the shop, Thomas walked over to her and put his hand on her waist. She looked up at him confused but he just smiled at Michael: “Meet my darling fiancé, Y/N. We will be married in two weeks time and she will be Mrs. Shelby.”

[molinaskies]

Lanolin: Designed to be Dislikable.

Hi friends. I’ve had a number of people in my digital face over the last few months trying to “show me the light of Lanolin,” but I’ve kept these interactions private because there’s no need to put them on blast. Of course, they're mostly respectful and I’m often reminded that I have a right to my opinion, but there is always an undercurrent that I might have just missed this one small tidbit that could blow the case wide open because how could I possibly not like her? How could I not understand her character and be empathetic to her plight?

But I’ve watched the videos. I’ve read the think pieces. I’ve seen it all. But my opinion hasn’t changed and that does not mean I’m wrong… nor does it mean I’m right! We have two different opinions that should be allowed to co-exist.

I’m being a touch cross here, I recognize. Please forgive me for that, this once. But frankly, I am frustrated—not because people like Lanolin, but because many seem incredulous to the fact that I dislike her. And I can only assume that means I simply have not made myself clear.

Consider this my final take on Lanolin the Sheep until there is some significant development for this character.

I am allowed to dislike Lanolin because she is a fictional character whom I’ve done the research on and have come to that conclusion. Done. That’s all she wrote. Go home.

That aside entirely for the sake of argument, I am allowed to dislike Lanolin because she is supposed to be unlikeable as per her role in this story. I dislike Lanolin because I dislike assholes, but I also like Lanolin because she is doing her job very fucking well! lol

Lanolin is not supposed to be in the right. She is a character who is making major mistakes due to her lack of experience combined with her arrogant dismissal of others, and she will eventually be punished by Mimic’s betrayal to teach the audience some sort of lesson. If half of this comic’s runtime has been about punishing Sonic—the titular character—for his mistakes, then Lanolin can get punished once. I would bet real world money that this will happen.

So many characters are sus of Duo by now and have tried to do something about it but Lanolin gets in the way because she can’t listen to reason. The only reason Silver and Whisper “go rogue” is because Lanolin wouldn’t listen to reason—and her response was still disproportionate because when Whisper tried again to explain herself, Lanolin made her hit the deck.

Lanolin is Sonic with some pieces missing. We know this because Lanolin directly cites Sonic as her inspiration for getting involved in the restoration. However, Lanolin looks at Sonic, sees his behaviour, and emulates it without any understanding or regard for how he has earned the right to do what he does. Sonic is insolent, not arrogant, because he only denies authority when it isn’t earned. Sonic is defiant, not self-righteous, because he believes there are multiple ways to solve a problem. Sonic is empathetic, not sympathetic, because he takes the time to learn and experience what it means to live on the other side. Lanolin has modelled herself off of Sonic because Sonic is a hero, but she’s missed the bigger picture of what that actually means.

Lanolin is cold, unkind, and unwilling to be wrong because she thinks she knows everything she needs to be in this game. That is inherently unlikable to some people and therefore justified.

But there’s more to this, isn’t there?

A huge defence of Lanolin as a character is that “she has baggage that makes her rough around the edges,” and you know what? Fair! You would not believe how empathetic I am to that, trust me. Imma get into it. But the reality of the case is that Lanolin is her own keeper, and if Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Amy, Rouge, the Chaotix, Tangle, Whisper, Silver, Blaze, Jewel, Belle, and many others can carry their baggage around and still treat others with respect and without verbal and physical abuse, then there’s no excuse. Yes, it takes time to get there, and the whole point of Lanolin as a character is that she hasn’t learned the “everyone is useful just the way they are” and “a leader is nothing without her team” lessons, yet.

But allowing Lanolin to lash out at the world only to let her hide behind her trauma is a deeply reductive portrayal of trauma survivors that I find aggressively problematic. Further, it is a failure to Lanolin as a character because, again, that is not the fucking point of her.

This is the one time I will ever ask anyone here to just “take my word” for something. I’m not comfortable airing out too much of my personal issues on the internet. But below is what I can share.

I come from a very, very broken home that instilled a lot of unproductive defence mechanisms within me. In short, I used to be very mean because I was neglected, and acting out against my peers and showing off my skills gave me attention.

The big ticket, though, is I thought I was good. I thought I was Great. Awesome. Outstanding. AMAZING. I was a natural-born leader with a drive for justice who was good at a couple things. I thought I was doing everything right because teachers liked me and I was getting opportunities. What I never saw—never could have possibly seen until it was spit right in my face—was how I was treating everyone around me as beneath me because I thought I had it in the bag.

It wasn’t until I learned about a very public smear campaign against me that I got a wake up call. When I saw what people were saying, it shattered my entire paradigm not because of just how heinous it was, but because of how much of it was true—and that broke my heart. All I have ever wanted to do was help people. Fight for people. Protect people. Elevate people. Support people. For me to learn I was doing the exact opposite of what I set out to do absolutely destroyed me.

After that, I immediately switched up my game. I pulled out all the stops and really focused on being kinder, empathetic, and encouraging. I started to become more self-aware and mindful of how my emotions and behaviour impacted others, but it still took years to even start to comprehend that I was traumatized, let alone the ways my trauma impacted my relationships and behaviour.

I used to be Lanolin. I was a mean girl getting progressively meaner from ages 11-17, and I am still in active recovery. I still make mistakes. I still fall from grace occasionally, but I am working on it. I’m almost 24 now.

Remember when this used to be about a cartoon sheep? Back on track LOL.

I promise you that while Lanolin has some moments of clarity, she is not largely aware of what she’s doing. She’s not evil. She is not unworthy of love. She just needs time for the story to let her learn.

I am not saying Lanolin does not deserve a redemption. What I am saying is that down her current path and with her current behaviour, she has not yet earned one. And here’s the thing: even though what I’m about to say probably will not happen because this is a kids comic directed at 12 year olds, just because Lanolin might eventually get her punishment, see the light, and apologize for her wrongs while acting on solutions, no one she hurt owes her forgiveness. Whisper can still tell her to fuck off. Silver can send her to outer space, Sonic 06-style. Tangle can yeet her back to kingdom-wherever the fuck she-come from (hush, I know it’s Riverside). 

Why? Because the reality is that even if you are a changed person and have learned and grown from your past discretions, you still hurt people. Even if they do forgive you, they may never trust, and they will never forget. That is the reality I and many others like me live in daily, and to be frank: I think it’s entirely fair. I made mistakes, and I gotta pay the consequences. I deserve grace and patience, but that can only go so far. The people around me are human the exact same way I am.

I personally believe that I have never misunderstood Lanolin as a character. She’s snarky and inexperienced and abrasive entirely by design. She is meant to showcase the “wrong” ways to be a hero and will be corrected. But just because she is a rough-and-tumble person who had a bad day at work does not mean she can come home and treat the world as her personal shitter. No one has that right.

And if you disagree with me, good! Welcome to MolinaSkies.

[nyoomerr]

Only if you want but phantom thief! Binghe x rich boy Shen Yuan, heir to a famous jeweler/jewerly store business.

It can be Bingge or Binghe, whatever you want! Love your work!

dont mind me using this as a sort-of warm up for writing a much bigger bingge pov binggeyuan thing ehehe 😌 ty for sending this prompt in!

---

Luo Binghe does not get caught. It’s in his title, even - a phantom thief, completely untouchable. 

Well, perhaps not completely untouchable. After all, many times the most efficient way to get his hands on a particularly valuable set of jewelry is to let the lady wearing it put her hands on him. Flirtations and bold fondling in a dark corner of a party, hands on the woman’s face and shoulders and the diamond necklace around her neck -

Normal things for someone in Luo Binghe’s line of work, really, when that someone looks the way Luo Binghe does. Charm is as indispensable a tool as a lockpick. 

It’s only a tool that Luo Binghe dares to use when he knows it will be well received, though. Unwelcome advances are more likely to get a mark to grow more defensive on all lines, not just towards sexual advances, and then the whole job gets more difficult. Still not impossible - not for Luo Binghe - but Luo Binghe has a messy habit of turning theft into murder when he’s faced with rejection. 

It isn’t his fault. The people who turn Luo Binghe away - who look at him with cold disinterest and disgusted sneers plastered across their ugly, painted faces - they deserve to die. Luo Binghe is only doing the world a service.

Still, the cleanup becomes much more difficult when Luo Binghe’s mouth is stained with blood rather than smeared lipstick, so he learns to assess his marks carefully. Those that would think themselves clever and better than Luo Binghe get stolen from in the traditional sense, and they never see Luo Binghe during the process.

Shen Yuan is one such mark. Oh, Luo Binghe could break him in, probably - he watches from a distance as Shen Yuan’s eyes linger on the strong forearms of the barista who hands him his coffee, and he knows without testing that Luo Binghe could fluster such a small thing like Shen Yuan without much effort. 

To actually touch Shen Yuan, however, would be far more difficult. Luo Binghe knows this much from even the most basic of background searches: Shen Yuan takes pretty girls to banquets despite never touching them, and the way he dresses… yes, Shen Yuan certainly would like to think of himself as a straight man, the poor thing. Not the sort of nut Luo Binghe cares to crack when it’s for business rather than pleasure.

Besides, most of Shen Yuan’s valuables are kept in his family’s home. The pretty things Luo Binghe could nick off Shen Yuan’s person are limited and hardly the most enticing of Shen Yuan’s things, so there’s no need to push it.

Shen Yuan will simply be the sort of mark that never sees Luo Binghe, never gets close enough to touch.

That’s the sort of mark Shen Yuan is supposed to be.

“Um,” Shen Yuan says, standing awkwardly in the doorway of the very high security office that Luo Binghe has just broken into. “Can I, um. Help you…?”

Luo Binghe stares at him. He’s just finished picking the lock on one of the glass cabinets in the office, and he knows that from Shen Yuan’s perspective he must have a very clear view of the ruby earrings that Luo Binghe had plucked from the case.

He doesn’t stare long. Hesitating only ever gets someone caught, and Luo Binghe does not get caught.

The office has no windows, so Luo Binghe will have to exit through the door that Shen Yuan is standing in. He turns to face Shen Yuan fully - he empty hand neatly plucking a few more pieces from the cabinet and tucking them in his pockets as he moves - and starts sauntering over to Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan was not meant to be one of the marks he seduced, but plans can change. He’ll just need to fluster Shen Yuan long enough to make it past him to one of the several exit plans Luo Binghe had planned. 

That should be enough - Shen Yuan is only wearing an oversized shirt and boxers, clearly having gotten up from bed without dressing properly, and he doesn’t appear to be carrying anything in his hands. All that together means he’s likely not carrying his phone, and Luo Binghe knows the security schedule well enough to know that Shen Yuan yelling wouldn’t have anyone arriving quick enough to stop him. 

Shen Yuan takes half a step back as Luo Binghe approaches, but he doesn’t leave the doorway. He must have some idea that he’s the only obstacle in Luo Binghe’s way, then. Luo Binghe smiles at him, only half faking the predatory look of it. 

“Yuan-er,” Luo Binghe croons, and Shen Yuan shuffles back another half foot, his ears turning pink where they stick out from some truly terrible bed head.

Spoiled, Luo Binghe thinks in the privacy of his own mind, poisonous and bitter. A child who’s always been allowed laziness.

“Yuan-er, you’ve really got to put better locks on your things,” Luo Binghe says as he approaches. “Isn’t this your family’s precious legacy? That sort of thing should be protected…”

Shen Yuan’s brows furrow. Luo Binghe can very clearly read the baffled what the fuck that silently twists his lips, but Luo Binghe doesn’t react. 

That’s it, little rabbit - just stand there, and let yourself be confused and taken aback by the thief in front of you, and I’ll escape before you have to worry your spoiled little head about it.

Luo Binghe is only a few paces away, now. He’ll brush past Shen Yuan’s right side to avoid getting caught on the arm he has resting on the doorway, and -

“Say please,” Shen Yuan says, glaring up at Luo Binghe as he crosses his arms.

Luo Binghe falters. “What was that, Yuan-er?”

“You’re clearly capable of sweet talk, so you should start with asking nicely before you take our shit,” Shen Yuan scoffs. 

Luo Binghe stops in front of Shen Yuan, close enough that Shen Yuan has to tilt his head up to maintain eye contact with him. 

He should just brush past, really. Shen Yuan is small, and Luo Binghe already knows he doesn’t have a way to raise alarm in an effective way.

Luo Binghe does not brush past.

He kind of wants to slit Shen Yuan’s throat for thinking he has any right to tell Luo Binghe to say please, sitting comfortably in the lap of luxury like he is. 

“I’m impressed,” Luo Binghe says, his smile so sharp it may as well just be a baring of his teeth. “Yuan-er knows so many big words for a little princling of such an important business. Did you learn them from listening to clients speak to your daddy?”

Shen Yuan’s eye twitches. “Ah,” he says. “You’re an asshole on top of being impolite, then.”

Luo Binghe’s fingers twitch towards the switchblade in his pocket. He wouldn’t be able to clean up a body before security loops back around to this wing of the house, and Luo Binghe has already left a mess from being interrupted in the middle of his heist. He hasn’t left any fingerprints, but he can’t be sure about hair -

Shen Yuan reaches up and flicks Luo Binghe’s forehead. Luo Binghe goes dead still. That’s it, then. He’s going to kill Shen Yuan, this rich little brat -

“Oi, you’re going to ruin your pretty face with a mean expression like that,” Shen Yuan complains. “Just get out of here if you aren’t going to listen nicely - I already called security before coming over here to tell you off myself.”

Luo Binghe pulls out the switchblade, snarling down at Shen Yuan. “Oh, Yuan-er, I think there’s something much better I could ruin.”

Shen Yuan shifts uncomfortably at the sight of the blade, some of his irritation replaced with the faintest glimmer of fear. Luo Binghe pushes closer, wanting to see more - wanting to see Shen Yuan’s delicate face contorted with the sort of despair that a little lordling like him would never have known before, wanting to see him cry - 

There’s footsteps from down the hall. Shen Yuan had not been bluffing; he really had called someone, then. Luo Binghe cannot guarantee he’ll be able to kill Shen Yuan quickly enough that Shen Yuan is unable to give a description of his murderer to the help before he dies.

Hesitating gets people caught. Luo Binghe does not get caught, so he brushes past Shen Yuan harshly without another moment’s pause, even though what he wants to do is something far more violent and time consuming. 

Luo Binghe hasn’t failed a heist like this since he was a damn child, and this stupid little twink dares to just stand there and watch Luo Binghe run down the hallway to the nearest window instead of lay bleeding on the ground like he should be doing, Luo Binghe will come back to kill him -

“At least say thanks!” Shen Yuan calls out as Luo Binghe approaches the window. “Even if you can’t ask nicely to begin with, you should at least say thanks, ah!”

Luo Binghe ignores him. He’s busy pulling his jacket off to wrap around his arms, preparing to jump through the window’s glass in such a way that he can avoid getting cut and leaving his own blood at the scene of the crime.

“Aiya, what an asshole…” Shen Yuan is grumbling behind him. “You know, you may regret not bothering to pay me a bit more attention.”

Oh, Luo Binghe is paying attention. He’s very vividly imagining what Shen Yuan’s neck would feel between his fingers, right now, even as he backs up several steps to get a running start at the window. 

The office had been on the second story, so Luo Binghe has to roll to mitigate the force of the fall. He stands quickly, does a perfunctory check of his pockets to ensure nothing fell when he hit the ground, and -

He’s missing the jewelry he nicked. He has the ruby earrings, but the others he’d stolen as he was leaving are gone. Luo Binghe searches the ground around where he’d fallen frantically; he has to move now, but he can’t leave those behind either. After all that this heist has brought, Luo Binghe can’t allow it to not even be profitable. 

Above him, Shen Yuan clears his throat from the broken window. Luo Binghe whips his head up to look at him.

In one hand, Shen Yuan is holding the missing jewelry.

“I told you,” Shen Yuan says. “Jeez, as if I’m that useless.”

Luo Binghe stares up at him. No one has ever dared to steal back from Luo Binghe.

“...Aren’t you going to leave? Security really will be here soon.” Shen Yuan calls down at him. Then he pauses, and even in the darkness Luo Binghe can tell his ears have gone pink again. “...I let you keep the rubies. They, uh. Would probably go well. With you. And your eyes. And uh. Anyway, say thanks!”

“...Thanks?” Luo Binghe says, baffled and furious and still sort of itching to take his switchblade out and throw it pointy-side first at Shen Yuan’s pretty face.

“You’re welcome, asshole!” Shen Yuan calls back, clearly pleased. 

Luo Binghe stares for a moment longer, then turns and runs. He will not get caught, even on nights that have gone as stupendously terrible as this one has. So long as he doesn’t get caught, there’s always next time. 

So long as he doesn’t get caught, Luo Binghe can come back here, to the office of jewels he failed to get - to Shen Yuan. 

Next time, Luo Binghe won’t fail.

[sunlighthroughthe-ashes]

i want to talk about how tenderly and tactfully the subject of trauma has been handled in family by choice. full credit to the original c-drama for the story — but the remake is my first introduction to the show and its premise.

families can be a person's first experience of a wound: that single unanswerable ache from which each of your hurts flow and fountain forward. it's rare for k-dramas to acknowledge this: to acknowledge that the individual to whom you are born may not belong to you. may not give you the grace you require to grow. may not take your small, hot hand; hungry for solace — and instead simply cast it aside. your family can be your first sharp disappointment — your first clear shock at the sheer ugliness of the world. to some, love is freely given — to others it is nothing more than a bone flung from a scant table. you hug the hunger like it's your own bed-pillow — it becomes your only home. the only house you ever live in.

through sanha & haejun's characters; one can see how the talons of trauma can mark you forever. both actors deserve accolades for the raw desperation and confusion in their eyes at the weight they're being asked to carry — especially inyoup. there's a muted, exhausted malaise in his eyes — the gaze of an adult caged within a teenager's body. by contrast, haejun appears younger than his years — a helpless, childlike hurt and betrayal borne by his eyes. both boys carry boulders unfit for such delicate shoulders — because there is a special kind of cruelty in asking a child to bear a burden that was never theirs to begin with. in lining their shoes with the gravel of grief since they were old enough to walk.

what does it to do to a child (in haejun's case) to be told that love is not intrinsic — and that it has to be earned? that it has to be paid back? what does it do to a child (in sanha's case) to be told that you are not enough as your own self — that you will never be forgiven for a flaw that was never yours to start with? what does it mean to taste a parent's neglect on your own tongue — to have it tint every part of your speech for the rest of time?

what does it mean to be a father to such children — as juwon's appa so fiercely upholds? to treat their scars as sacred. to harbor their hurts in his own hands. family by choice is as much about trauma as it is about healing — about the people knitted to you through their knowledge of your wounds; their patience with your past; their trust that your tears are temporary. about the neighbors, friends, and forged bonds that may not be of blood, yet sustain you nonetheless; surround your spirit with warmth. the people who choose you knowing the charred heartbreak in your chest — who love and accept you knowing the latticework of your loneliness: the people who press it all away with a single touch or smile – they are your true faith. they are your true family. they are the only ones who matter.

sanha, haejun, and juwon all have their crosses to bear — but they also have each other. there is always light to temper the dark. there is always sanha's eyes; and the way they soften when he looks at juwon: the jewel-toned reverence with which he reflects on every single thing she does for him. wherever there is trauma there is also and always a tryst with hope — a heart holding on to the idea that there will be more. there will be peace. there will be resolution. there will be sunlight at the end of the black silence.

family by choice reminds me of this quote by poet and novelist ocean vuong: "we were born from beauty. let no one mistake us for the fruit of violence—but that violence, having passed through the fruit, failed to spoil it."

[cheeseceli]

Boyfriend Jimin

Pairing: Park Jimin × Gn!reader

Genre: fluff, almost non existent angst, headcanons

Request: can i request a headcanon of what jimin would be like in a relationship? || When are we getting a Jimin bf headcanon?

Warnings: skinship, he's an idol, that's all?

A/n: how do we feel about the design | daily click

Jungkook ver.

My boy was in denial for the first part of it, let me tell you that

He'd either wait for you to make a move or wait until you clearly explicitly like him back

He needs to be sure

Just in case

Needless to say he loves physical touch

Mostly kisses I think

I mean, we see how he is with his members so imagine with an actual s/o 😭

Bro would be kissing you like 24/7

His favourites tho: kisses on the hand, on the forehead and on the neck

🙂‍↕️

And he's such a gentle lover if I'm being honest

Besides having the softest touch ever, he also says the kindest words to you

You would definitely feel very safe and reassured around him

His love languages are physical touch, gift giving and acts of service btw

I think that in the beginning of the relationship there would be a few conflicts here and there

But mostly because of miscommunication

Once you both actually understand each other, then things would work way smoothly

Personally, I think he would enjoy having matching items

Something kinda discreet but that still gives the idea that you guys are together

Mostly jewels

The cutest because he will always smile whenever he randomly reminds himself of you

And it's crazy because he could be doing anything and then boom, suddenly you're all that he can think of

The boys always know when he's thinking of you because it's clear how his eyes suddenly get filled with love

Writes songs about you

Most likely won't show them to you unless he's really vulnerable with you

LOVES to cuddle to sleep

His favourite moment with you is those few minutes right before falling asleep where dreams and reality get kinda mixed

But he still can feel you even with all the fog in his mind

He also loves to travel with you

It doesn't matter if it's those big overseas trips or if it's just a 15 minute car ride

He loves going out with you and exploring

Will always save you a seat at his concerts

Will also always look in your direction as much as he can

Loves to hold eye contact because he KNOWS you're going to get flustered

That's how he found out you liked him at first actually lmao

Really wants you to have a good relationship with the boys

I think he would like to adopt a pet with you

Idk it just makes so much sense to me that he would want to do it

Fight me but I think he'd be one of the boys that would be able to hide your relationship with the media the longest

He would probably prefer to keep it a secret

Not because he doesn't want people to know, but because he doesn't want people all over his business

And he would be ready to fight with anyone who had anything bad to say about you

Very protective of you overall actually

Genuinely doesn't know how he lived so much before loving you

Masterlist | you'll probably like: I'm not letting go

Reminder that this is all fiction, this does not represent the members in real life!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics | images 1, 2 and 3

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @butnotmontana

[lupincentral]

Check out this amazing new PART 6 themed key artwork for an ongoing Fiat 500 x Lupin III cross-over collaboration in Japan!

The artwork, which features character designs by Hirotaka Marufuji, includes three different models of the most recent line of vehicles - the Fiat 500, the Fiat 500e, and the Fiat 600e. It's fun to see the characters riding around in a more recent model, after we're so used to seeing them in the classic car! I wonder what both Lupin and Jigen would think of the newer electric model…?

The first part of the campaign itself allows fans to enter a competition in which they can win their own personal Fiat 500 / Fiat 500c, which has been decked out with Lupin themed stickers, coasters, decals, and more. There's also a 1/24 scale model of Lupin's yellow 1995 Fiat bundled in for good measure, too (also available from your local Japanese Fiat dealership).

The estimated price of the car is between ¥2,590,000 〜 ¥3,440,000, depending on which version you go for (the 500c is a convertible variant of the regular 500).

The website (linked below) also showcases three original short stories, which will be uploaded sequentially (at time of writing, only the first has been uploaded - and it features Lupin and the gang infiltrating the Magnifico Museum to steal a priceless jewel named the Venus)! Clear cases based around classic Lupin television series can also be won as part of a separate contest, which you can also enter via the website.

More details:

[just-jordie-things]

shades of cool - zen'in naoya

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 16.5k warnings: swearing. a semi-soft naoya fic bcuz i'm a f r e a k. summary: naoya doesn't need to love you when the fate of your arranged marriage had been written when you were only kids. and of course, he'd never actually fall for you. more info: arranged marriage!au enemies (sorta) to friends (sorta) to lovers, obviously he's out of character a/n: i am so sick in the head for writing this. adding him to this even was such a... choice. don't request stuff for him i will delete the ask in shame <3 ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ but i can’t fix him, can’t make him better.  and i can’t do nothing about his strange weather.  cause you are unfixable.  i can’t break through your world.  cause you live in shades of cool.  your heart is unbreakable ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

SUMMER, 1995

He’s six years old when Naoya first meets (y/l/n) (y/n).  She’s freshly six and she looks it, too.  Chubby cheeks colored pink from her obvious shyness.  She’s standing behind her father’s legs, reaching for his hand even though he’s repeatedly dodged her hold or swatted her hand away.  

Naoya’s spying on the scene in the entryway of the Zen’in estate, peeking through the second floor railing with a curious sort of glare on his face.  He’d heard whispers among the staff of a visitor from one of the more powerful clans, and while normally Naoya couldn’t care less about the many people coming in and out of the compound, when he’d heard his own name mentioned one too many times in correlation with this visitor, intrigue got the best of him.

And surely she was the reason why.  She was no older than him, dressed in a silk kimono that had to have been tailored just for her, and her hair swept back into a jeweled butterfly clip that sat at the back of her head.  Although half of her hair was falling out of it, seeing as the hand that wasn’t desperately reaching for her father’s was tugging at the uncomfortable claw secured against her scalp, trying to relieve the tension of her hair being pulled so tightly.  Naoya could almost scoff at how childish she looked.

He’s only been spying for a few minutes before his father is turning around and staring straight at him, the marble railings doing nothing to hide his crouching stature.  His stomach drops with fear, expecting to be scolded and punished for eavesdropping, even though he hadn’t heard a thing the adults were saying.  Instead, the head of the Zen’in clan beckons his son to descend the stairs and meet their visitor.

And although he wants to, he doesn’t hesitate.  He’s upright and quickly making his way down to courteously introduce himself to their guests.

“Naoya, this is the head of the (y/l/n) Clan, you remember him, yes?” Naobito gestured to the man still swatting away at his daughter’s hand, prompting Naoya to tilt forward in a respectful bow.

“Yes, sir” 

“It just so happens his daughter is your age,” Naobito continues, directing his gaze to where she stood.  

She was just a small thing, so tiny Naoya could hardly believe she was even six years old.  She was merely a pipsqueak, and her demeanor seemed so, too.  Her eyes could barely meet his, opting instead to stare at his shoes.  If his father weren’t standing there, he would’ve scoffed and walked away without so much as a second glance.

“It would be nice if you two could… get along,” Even Naobito seemed uncertain of this union.  His son’s apprehension was clear in his rigid stance and bored expression, and the young (y/l/n) didn’t seem like she could hold her own.  If that were the case, she didn’t stand a chance with his ruthless son.  “Why don’t you show her around the compound while the adults chat, hm? Be a proper host” 

Naoya looks up at his father, silently asking if this was the best use of his time.  Naobito’s expression was unmoving, and unforgiving.  There was no getting out of this, then.

“Fine” Naoya huffs, and he regrets the attitude when his father’s hand smacks up the back of his head.  He doesn’t say anything else as he nods for the girl to follow him.

Once more she reaches for her father, only to be gently pushed towards Naoya, and against her will, she follows behind him.

She’s silent as he boredly walks her through each room, pointing here and there at cursed tools he wanted to show off, or expensive art he couldn’t care less about.  A few times, Naoya even had to check over his shoulder that she was even still with him.  She was like a mouse.  If it weren’t for her buzzing cursed energy, he could forget she was there at all.

Every time he checks on her and her eyes meet his, his brows furrow.  He couldn’t explain it, since she hadn’t actually said a word to him yet, but something about her irked him.  He was certain there wasn’t a chance in hell they were going to be friends.

“What’s your deal anyways?” 

His question is abrupt, and full of cruelty.  He halts suddenly right before he’s about to show her the lame gardens that the staff tends to.  The girl merely blinks, seemingly unphased by his blatant rudeness.  At this point, he’s wondering if she’s a mute, or maybe just too stupid to—

“My deal?” She repeats, speaking for the first time.  

Her voice isn’t as timid as he would have expected.  It’s soft, but there’s an underlying boldness there, as though she were just waiting for her chance to tear into him.  It flips a switch in him to put his guard up, the prickle on his skin reminding him of his older brothers’ torment.  Perhaps she was just like them, playing the long game, stringing him along into thinking she was just another pipsqueak, when in reality she was about to pin him down and tie him up like a hog.  Or at least, that’s what his brothers would have done.

“I dunno,” She hums, shrugging her shoulders with her lame answer.  Naoya’s lip curls into an irritated snarl.  He certainly wasn’t expecting that.  “My dad said I had to come” 

That’s all the more she tells him, and young Naoya scoffs.  He’d only been around her for all of ten minutes and he was already over it.

“Whatever,” He mutters, pushing through the doors and not bothering to hold it open for her as she continues to follow him outdoors.  “Just try to keep up, pipsqueak.  Let’s get this over with” 

And that’s exactly how he feels the next few times her father brings her along on his visits to the compound.  Impatient, hurried, and most of all, irritated.  Whatever the point was for having her here was lost on Naoya.  She didn’t appear all that interested either, so why torture the both of them? 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

SPRING, 1997

They’re eight when Naoya finally comes to realize why the Zen’in and (y/l/n) Clans insist on the two of them spending so much time together.  The idea makes his stomach churn and his throat fill with bile.

“You know this is all just an act, right?” 

His words are sharp, as they always are, while (y/n’s) busy picking the weeds out of the grass around them.  She insisted on gathering all the dandelions, no matter how much he criticized her for fawning over the dumb weed.  After a few years of regular drop offs, where her father would smoke cigars with Zen’in Naobito and have adult conversation, she was stuck entertaining the young Zen’in.

Naoya wasn’t the most pleasant of company, when he did speak he never had anything nice to say, and when he wasn’t talking, he had a resting scowl on his face.  Lucky for her, her patience seemed to know no bounds.  Or perhaps she’d just gotten used to his shitty attitude.

(y/n) had grown up mastering the craft of being patient.  Of smothering emotion from her face, especially ones such as disgust, or fear.  Coming from a long line of sorcerers who had mastered the Reversed Cursed Technique, she was in line to be yet another higher grade sorcerer with the (y/l/n) name.  Unfortunately, it had meant her training began young, and it was a gruesome lesson plan.  She met many sorcerers who came to her estate after unruly battles and exorcisms, covered in laceration wounds or missing appendages.  Any sign of weakness or apprehension had been taught out of her years before now.  If she was too afraid to go near an injured sorcerer, there wasn’t a chance of her learning how to heal them.  So it didn’t matter if it was a stranger or her own family crying out in agony as they tried to stop the heavy bleeding from a nasty injury, her first lesson was learning to keep a neutral face in the presence of gore.

This lesson came in handy during her visits with Naoya, as well.

“If you’re acting, you’re not all that good at it,” She replies.  Her own choice of words are witty for an eight year old, snarky, even.  But her voice is as soft as ever.  “Or, are you trying to look like an ass all the time?” 

When she looks up at him, her gap toothed smile is so large it takes up most of her face.  She knows she’d gotten him good when he’s scowling and letting out an annoyed sound from the back of his throat.  Truth be told, she didn’t have a clue as to what he was referring to, but the only way to keep herself amused during these little forced sessions was by picking dandelions and dishing his attitude back at him.

“You’ll never get a husband with that mouth,” Naoya bites back.  “No self respecting man would ever want the hand of a girl that talks back” 

She raises a brow at him, although her eyes are focused on the stems of a few yellow weeds in her hands as she diligently loops and knots them together.  Her interest is far more captivated by the dying weed than the obnoxious brat keeping her company.  Still, she pays him some attention, just for times’ sake.

“I don’t think I have to worry much about that,” She says with a small giggle, still knotting her pile of dandelions together.  Naoya’s disinterested stare is focused on her handiwork as she calmly responds.  He realizes distantly that she’s making a crown out of the damn things.  He looks away then, thinking he was far too focused on her waste of time than he should be.  “Don’t you think we’re a little young to have to think about marriage?” She asks.

Naoya sneers, his know-it-all attitude rearing it’s head as soon as it gets the chance.

“You don’t pay attention to anything, do you, pipsqueak?” He scoffs.  (y/n) fights the urge to roll her eyes as she continues on with her crown.  “You’re going to marry me” 

Naoya’s filled with a sick sense of pride for an eight year old, revealing the big secret that their father’s had yet to share.  He thinks he’s got her speechless now, and surely she’ll be shocked, maybe even cry.  Naoya thinks he’d like to see her sniffle and whine over this news.

He’d certainly gagged when he’d heard the whispered rumors among the staff for the last few days.  Anytime he’d heard their names brought up his nose would wrinkle, and he’d ball his hands into fists as he marched away from the ridiculous gossip.

But it’s silent for a few beats, and she appears as though she hasn’t even heard his announcement.  His heartless grin begins to falter as he watches her admire her little ring of dandelions, lifting it to get a good look at it in the sun.  A small smile stretches across her lips as she deems it finished, before setting it on her head.

“Were you listening?” His grin falls to a deep frown rather quickly.  

(y/n) doesn’t let even a flicker of emotion cross her face as she finally turns to look at him.  His dark eyes are wide with anticipation, and she knows he’s waiting for a dramatic reaction out of her.  She’s not sure why, she’s never really been one for the theatrics, that was always him.  Naoya was the one that wanted to march around, show off, and be relentlessly and pointlessly cruel.  She was the one who sat and bore it without a word or any reaction at all, really.  In the handful of times she’s been around him now, she had yet to understand his obnoxious personality.

“Yeah” She answers, simply, and without the notion of having anything more to say.  

Naoya’s brows furrow harshly as he glares at her.  He thinks he’ll never be able to understand this girl, much less get along with her.  If she really was set to be his wife, he’d have to find every way he could to wiggle out of it.

“It’s an arranged marriage,” He spits out matter-of-factly.  “Don’t you understand what that means?” 

(y/n) nods her head, the loose crown of dandelions slipping around her ears.

“When we’re older, we’ll get married,” She replies.  “It’s not that hard to figure out” 

“You knew?” Naoya scoffs.

This time, she shakes her head.

“No, I didn’t,” She tells him, calm as ever.  “But does it matter?

He blinks, his eyes wide and full of their usual nasty emotion, mixed with something else she’s never seen on him before.  He almost looks lost.

“Don’t tell me you actually want that?” He asks, his voice lowering to a near whisper.  

They were the only people in the gardens, always left alone to play and get to know each other, and they always sat there in mostly silence until it was time for her to go.  Still, Naoya couldn’t bring himself to speak at a volume any higher than that.  He couldn’t risk anyone possibly hearing his accusation.

To his displeasure, (y/n) shrugs.  Shrugs.  As if being arranged to marry him made no difference to her.  As if she barely had any opinion of it at all.  Sure, she might not have had a say, but she could think for herself, couldn’t she? 

“I don’t really know anyone else,” She tells him, lifting the flower crown off her head to adjust some of the loose stems.  “My parents insist on homeschooling me, so I don’t have friends.  I’d rather marry someone I know than a stranger” 

For the briefest of seconds, Naoya almost softens.  He almost feels pity for her.  He almost wishes things were different so neither one of them had to be in this position.  But just as quickly as the thought crosses his mind, he’s bristling and snarling again.

“You can barely even manifest your cursed technique,” He scoffs.  “You know that makes you weak, right?” His words are harsh, but judging from the lack of response from (y/n), he could almost believe she tuned him out completely.  “What makes you think I would want a weak pipsqueak like you as my wife?” 

Finally, she cracks, but not in the way he was hoping.  Her eyes don’t water, she doesn’t sniffle, or even frown.  She simply places the dandelion loop back on her head, and gives him a tiny, yet victorious smile.

“What makes you think you’ll have any choice in the matter?” 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

That question sat with Naoya for longer than he would’ve liked.  Months pass, and each time he’s forced to see her again, his stomach is filled with the unfamiliar sensation of anxiety.  He hates it.  Hates the chill that crawls up his spine every time he has to greet her at the door and they have to go sit in the garden for hours on end.

He doesn’t enjoy talking to her, in fact, he despises it.  He hates the way every time she speaks her voice is soft, and full of whimsy.  Even as she tells him she still hasn’t mastered her Reversed Curse Technique, she sounds hopeful.  Too hopeful.  By the time they’re ten years old, she’s still struggling to get the hang of it.  

Naoya spends most of his time ignoring her, or reminding her of her weakness.  (y/n) spends most of her time picking the dandelions as she wanders the gardens, and not ignoring him nearly as much as she should.

She simply couldn’t help it.  She’d meant it when she’d told him he was the closest thing to a friend she’d had, after all.  The exception being her tutors and a few cousins that would entertain her when they visited.  But they had an obligation to be kind to her, the only daughter of the head of the (y/l/n) Clan.  Naoya, despite being her betrothed, held no obligation to her at all, and he certainly acted like it.

She had yet to figure him out, but as months turned into years, she was slowly getting a grasp on it.  He was more deeply insecure than he would ever admit, and as soon as someone stumbled upon those insecurities, they were scrutinized, blown to bits by his harsh words.

Naoya wasn’t one to give any piece of himself to anyone.  No matter how often she’d try to know him better, in order to care for him better, (y/n) made little to no progress.  She was lucky if he spent the day with his mouth shut.  She’s not sure he’s ever said a kind thing in his life, and after a few years, she’d given up completely on hoping he’d try.

Still, she didn’t put up a fight when she was brought to the Zen’in compound.  She smiled and bowed and followed the dark haired boy out to the garden where he’d sit and yank up the grass while she searched for dandelions, or maybe a ladybug.  If she were to be his wife, there would be plenty of time to get to know him later.  Maybe as he grew older he’d soften around the edges, and he’d be easier to be around.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

SUMMER, 2000

When they’re eleven, (y/n) announces that she’d been accepted into a private school.

She’s grinning from ear to ear, practically glowing with excitement as she goes on to tell Naoya all about the new classes she’ll get to take, but most of all, all the friends she’d get to meet.  She talks to him more that day than she’d ever had before.

He sits in annoyance as he’s stuck listening to her talk about her uniform of all things.  But he doesn’t have it in him to tell her to shut up.  Maybe because for once, he could be deluded into thinking she’s enjoying her time with him today.  Even though naturally, she’s only in a good mood because of the coming school year.

��Kind of dumb to go to a school with non-sorcerers, isn’t it?” Is all he has to say when she’s finally finished rambling about all the great things about her new school.

“You think?” She muses, intrigued by his opinion for reasons that were beyond him.

“It is if you spend all your time gossiping and learning stupid non-sorcerer things,” Naoya says decidedly.  “You should be focused on your technique, pipsqueak.  Not friends” 

(y/n) hums thoughtfully in response.  She knows he’s only jealous, seeing as he didn’t have any friends.  Of course she couldn’t say anything of the sorts to him, he’d probably beat her up for it.  Instead, she gifts him with her patience.

“I think I can have friends and still work on my technique” She says decidedly.

Naoya scowls, as she predicted, but she doesn’t react to it, simply goes back to threading today’s dandelion crown together.  He doesn’t have anything else to say, even with plenty of bitter thoughts forming in his mind.  He keeps his mouth shut and counts down the minutes until her father collects her and takes her home.

Today when she leaves, she drops the dandelion crown in his hands with a smile as she says goodbye.  Naoya grimaces at the ugly clump of dying weeds, and once she’s gone, drops it into the trash before going on with his day, not giving it a second thought.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

WINTER, 2003

The first time she gets a grasp on her Reversed Cursed Technique, they’re fourteen.

And despite the unforgiving coldness of the February afternoon, (y/n) insists that they still sit in the garden for the duration of her visit.  Naoya tries to tell her that she’s stupid for wanting to spend their time out there where she was going to catch a cold, but when she doesn’t budge, he decides to let her suffer the consequences.

She was a quiet little pipsqueak, but she was stubborn as hell, and for some reason that afternoon, Naoya hadn’t been in the mood to bicker.  It probably had something to do with his brothers taunting him all throughout breakfast.  They’d learned that messing with him about his little girlfriend as they called her was the quickest way to get his temper to snap, much to their delight.  It only meant that by the time she’d arrived, he’d already been broken down and was too mentally drained to put up a fight over something as silly as the cold.

“I’ve learned how to apply my Reversed Cursed Technique on myself” Is the first thing she tells him once they’re alone, sitting in a patch of dry, dead grass surrounded by banks of snow.  

“About time” Naoya replies gruffly.  She’s not surprised that he has nothing nice to say, she hadn’t expected anything different.

So instead she rolls up her sleeve, tucking it at her shoulder to reveal her entire bare arm.  The little hairs stick up and her skin prickles with goosebumps in the frigid air, but she gives no other indication of being bothered by the cold.

When she displays the long, bumpy scar that extends from the dip in her shoulder, down her bicep, nearly all the way through her palm, Naoya can’t help but widen his eyes at the nasty scar.  It’s puffy and pink, clearly still healing.  He’s silent as he follows the raised skin from start to finish, before turning to look at her, trying to gauge what she was thinking based on the mostly neutral expression she wore.

She was an impossible person to read, it was one of her most annoying qualities.  Naoya always believed himself to be gifted in reading others’ thoughts just by looking at their body language.  Never once had he been able to penetrate (y/n’s) thoughts.  Every time she spoke she found some way to catch him off guard.  Even after these last few years, it would still induce a chill of anxiety to shiver down his spine.

“Learned one way or another,” She chuckles, before pulling her sleeve back down.  “The scar should fade soon.  I got to it a bit late” She explains.

Naoya’s brows fall into a furrow and his lips curl into a puzzled frown.

“You did that to yourself?” He asks, disgust laced in his tone at the cruel attempt at training.  Sure, his clan would likely applaud her for it, but the ends didn’t exactly justify the means to him.

“No,” (y/n) scoffs quietly.  “Slipped up during training and had a nasty scratch.  Had I not moved when I did, I might’ve lost the whole arm” 

His mouth opens, but no words come out.  He doesn’t know what to say, his brain is running haywire with the possibilities.  He wants to call her foolish for acquiring such a scar just from training.  He wants to drag her by her clean arm to where her father is mindlessly chatting away with his and demand he use his own Reversed Cursed technique to fix it.  She was his only daughter, wasn’t she? Couldn’t he have healed her up just fine? 

He doesn’t fully believe her story, not with the way she’s talking about her training thus far, but he doesn’t call her out on it, either.

When he snaps his mouth shut again his jaw clenches, and his teeth grind together as he squashes every thought that crosses his mind.

“Well, it’s nasty,” He mutters, sounding uncharacteristically helpless.  “But at least you can use your technique now” 

(y/n) beams.  That was as close to a compliment as she’s ever received from him.

“Hurt like hell, but worth it!” She declares, and the pride in her voice makes him sick.  “I can’t wait to show the kids at school.  They’ll think it’s cool.  They’ve probably never seen stuff like this” 

He gives a small nod in response.  He couldn’t exactly argue with that.  Non-sorcerers were bound to think of her as some sort of badass over such a scar.  It would probably boost her popularity among the insects of her school.  Naoya frowns to himself.

“You shouldn’t show people that,” He tells her, without much of a reason in his mind.  She looks at him curiously, wrapping her arms around herself while still refusing to claim she was cold.  There’s not an ounce of truth in his words as he talks out of his ass.  “They’ll probably just pity you.  They’ll probably think you did it for attention”

She hums, nodding back at him in understanding.

“You’re right,” She tells him, much to his surprise.  “I wouldn’t want that” 

When she leaves that day, he wonders if she actually took his advice.  He wonders if the scar will be gone the next time he sees her.

It’s the first time he’s ever thought about her next visit.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

SPRING 2005

When they’re sixteen, Naoya notices a change in her.

Not just a physical one brought on by puberty and elegant growth into young adulthood.  It wasn’t just her sharper jaw and thicker lashes, or the way her eyes had a way of piercing through his in an unsettling way.  It wasn’t just her longer legs or the strength carried in her abdomen and arms.  It was a mindset change, he was sure of it.

She was more confident in the way she carried herself.  No longer did she try to reach for her father’s hand, barely casting him a second glance as they parted ways at the Zen’in compound’s entryway.  She respectfully bowed her head, but that was it.  She didn’t mess with the clip in her hair anymore, or avoid eye contact by staring at the ground.  She was a little more poised, and a little more sure of herself.

And now when she was with Naoya, he could practically feel the change in her just from the way she looked at him.  Inquisitive, with a small smirk on her face like she knew something he didn’t, and despite his better judgment, he was just dying to know what it was.

He had yet to decide if this change was a good one or not.  She was more vocal than usual, witty in their bickering as she yet again forced him to spend their time in the garden.  Her voice was still soft but her words were sharper than usual, more decisive.  He thinks that having a wife so mouthy and bossy would be an inconvenience to him and his clan, but he’s not sure if voicing that now would be of service to him.  He couldn’t go offending her father, not yet anyways, so he keeps his mouth shut and takes her out to her precious garden.

“I have some exciting news to tell you,” She says as soon as they’re alone outside.  

Her gaze is fixed on a clump of hyacinths, which irks Naoya.  No one else dared speak to him without looking at him, it was a respect thing.  The staff, even his younger cousins and some older ones, they all held eye contact when speaking to him.  She makes no effort to show him respect, but her manner isn’t intended to be cruel.  This was the playful side of her personality that he was starting to despise.  He grinds his teeth.

“I’ve been asked to the spring formal at my school” 

She sounds delighted, and it’s clear in the way her eyes light up and her smile curls just right to show off pearly white teeth.  She tells him this news like he’d been dying to know, like he’d cared at all.  He scoffs, rolls his eyes as he leans back in the grass on his hands, careful not to catch his sleeves on the dirty ground.

“I’ve never heard of something more stupid” 

“It’s a big deal,” (y/n) turns to him, her hands moving as she explains the details of the dance, how important a pretty dress is, how the most popular couple attending would be crowned spring prince and princess, all of which fell on disinterested ears as Naoya frowned and fought the urge to roll his eyes at everything she told him.  “It’s sort of silly, but it’s not stupid,” She tells him with certainty.  “Especially not since the most popular guy in my grade asked me,” She adds with a grin, leaning forward a bit to catch his attention.  Surely he’d care about that little piece of information.

Naoya rolls his head against his shoulder as he gives her a bored stare.  She’s still beaming, bright eyes flickering between his golden brown ones that fought so hard to keep their dull glare.

“Of course, he doesn’t know I’m technically betrothed” She adds, the word slipping off her tongue with syrupy, sticky sweetness.  That had a reaction flashing across his face, miniscule changes in his twitching brow and narrowing eyes.

They never really talked about their arrangement.  Not since bickering about it as kids, anyways.  Naoya always assumed it was because neither one of them were all that fond of the idea of an arranged marriage, especially to one another, seeing as they got along about as well as oil and water.  But here she was, bringing it up like it was nothing, like it carried no real weight.  And she was teasing him about it.

It made something in his chest snap.  Something sharp, something that had never been touched before.

“What, you’re asking for permission to go on a lame date to a lame school dance, with a lame non-sorcerer?” He scoffs at her, but his cruel words do nothing to hinder the excitement in her face.

“Permission? Of course not,” She shakes her head.  Her eyes land on a stray dandelion not far from her reach, and she leans over to pluck it from the grass without hesitation.  Old habits die hard.  “You’re not my husband, I don’t recall signing any papers” 

He scoffs again, his lips curling into a sarcastic grin.  She knows he’s going to spit out some vile nonsense, but she can’t help but brighten further upon seeing his smile.  It was a rare sight, after all.

“Not yet,” He corrects her.  “But I’m sure if I were to tell my father about how unfaithful you’ve been acting, you’d be pulled out of that non-sorcerer school by the end of the day.  And what then, pipsqueak?” He challenges.

She straightens her posture as she takes his challenge and runs with it.  The old feelings of anxiety stir in his chest as she tilts her chin upwards .  It was like she knew exactly what it took to get under his skin.  When did she get so defiant? 

“Immediately running to Daddy is so outdated, don’t you think?” Her voice drops an octave, and her smirk is widening just a bit as she watches it sink into his mind.  “Besides, unfaithful feels a little strong” She adds with a short breath of a laugh.

“Not if you’re practically engaged” He snaps back quickly.

(y/n’s) the one to roll her eyes this time.  He wants to hate it, instinct clawing up his throat and wanting him to tell her just how terrible of a wife she’d really make, that obedience was the first rule in marriage.  But the words die there, swallowed down thickly and leaving his throat dry and scratchy.  An aching throat could be the only explanation as to why he wouldn’t say a thing.

“Doesn’t there have to be a ring for that?” She snorts before chuckling to herself, a sound he’s never heard from her before, and doesn’t know what to do with now.  He blinks, fire burning in his eyes the longer she puts up this stupid game.  What was her ploy, anyways? “Or, you know, a proposal?” She fires back before he could even say anything.

Naoya clicks his tongue in irritation, turning his gaze in the opposite direction so she couldn’t see the way he fought to come up with something.

“I don’t care if you go to your stupid formal with some nobody,” He tells her in a mutter, still focusing his attention elsewhere, anything to keep from looking at her just yet.  “Under the condition you’re not actually unfaithful, of course.  No point in having you as a wife, then” 

(y/n’s) eyes are fixed on him even though he won’t turn back to her.  She can just barely make out the pink tips of his ears under the mop of dark hair that covers them.  A tiny smile cracks at the corners of her lips as she hums to herself.

He turns to her then, his brows furrowed as always, his lips pressed into a thin line as always, and her small smile breaks into a wider grin.

And then, she’s laughing.  His expression changes to one of confusion as bubble after bubble of laughter escapes her.  The more she laughs, the harder it hits, until she’s nearly cackling with it.  Even if he bothered to ask her what was so funny, she surely wouldn’t have been able to give him a proper answer.  So he watches in his shocked state of confusion as she throws herself back on the grass, hands over her stomach as she laughs loudly.

“Hey!” He barks then, head whipping around to be sure no one could see this childish display.  “Are you trying to stain your kimono?” He scolds her.

For some reason, she laughs harder.  Naoya thinks he sees a tear slip down the side of her cheek as it continues with no end in sight.  The expensive white silk she wore would likely have green stains all over the back now.  Naoya winced, knowing he’d be the one to be scolded by both of their fathers for letting her so recklessly ruin the material.

Her feet are kicking against the soft grass as peels of obsessive laughter flies out of her.  It goes on so long, Naoya lets out a humorless laugh himself, just barely smiling at the whole display.

He didn’t get the joke, not in the slightest, but as she opens her eyes and wipes away her tears while she looks up at him in her giggly state, he laughs just a little more, with just the slightest hint of genuine humor.

It takes a few minutes for (y/n) to completely calm down, her chest rising and falling as she took unsteady breaths to relax.  Her eyes fall shut again as she lays in the sun and waits for her breathing to even out.  She never does tell him what had cracked her up, but he doesn’t ask.  He simply works to keep his expression neutral and uninterested while she basks in the sunny afternoon, still laying in the grass without a care in the world.  She almost looks comfortable here, like she could be happy here.

And when she leaves, she drops the singular dandelion she’d plucked into his hand.  She can tell by the look on his face that he has no intention of keeping it, and she doesn’t really care either way.  But she smiles as the tips of her fingers graze over his palm while she hums a goodbye, and just like that, her and her father leave the compound.

Naoya hesitates before tossing it into the trash bin, giving the yellow weed a once over, just to see if he could see in it what she did.  Defeated when he can’t find anything special, he tosses it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

SUMMER, 2006

Being on the cusp of eighteen, Naoya’s certain that their time before a proper wedding was waning.  Surely once they were both of age, there would be pressure from both clans for him to make his proposal, something dramatic and with as many eyes watching as possible.  The idea makes him sick to his stomach, so he’s been trying not to think about it, but again, time was running out.

Her visits are growing more infrequent.  It’s nearing the end of the month, and she’s only been around twice in that time.  He’s not sure what to make of that, undecided on if her father is proving the point that he’d need to make his move soon, or maybe…

“You seem to be thinking a lot today,” 

Her voice is soft, but it still manages to draw Naoya out of his busy head.  He turns to look at her, giving her every ounce of his attention.  There’s a small knot between her pinched brows, and he’s not sure he’s ever seen her look concerned for him before.  It makes his chest do something strange.

Is that a stutter in his heartbeat? He worries about the implication.  A stroke?

“Can’t be good for you” (y/n) finishes with a teasing little smirk on her face.

He scoffs, barely rolls his eyes, and the corner of his mouth betrays him as it tilts upward in her direction.

“Like you’d understand.  You don’t have clan politics to worry about” He mutters, his eyes squinting as he turns to face forward again, the sun catching his line of sight harshly.

As always, they’re sat in the gardens.  (y/n) had already collected her small pile of dandelions, and was diligently knotting them together to make her crown.  She’d gotten better at it over the years, thickening the stems with extra of the weed to make it appear more full.  Naoya sat with nothing better to do than be lost in his own thoughts, and occasionally watch her as she worked on her mindless craft.

“I don’t care to worry about clan politics the way you do,” She corrects him, casting him a glance for a mere second before going back to her stems.  “And besides, the politics you worry about are prehistoric,” She adds with a scoff.  “Medieval” She adds bitterly.

Naoya rolls his eyes in good nature.

“Like your clan is any different” He mumbles.

Her elbow knocks into his, and he turns to glare at her for the mock attack, but she’s smiling, and while the sun seems to make him wince, it does wonders to compliment her facial features.

And thinking that she looks beautiful isn’t necessarily a new thought… it’s not like he’s ever found her unattractive.  She was always… pretty… in her quiet sort of way.  But Naoya’s not yet used to thinking about her beauty every time he looks at her, and he hasn’t learned yet what it takes to squash those thoughts.

So for now he tries to pay it little to no mind.  Rest assured, he will find a way to not think about it.

“No, they’re just the same, I’m afraid,” (y/n) hums, tilting her head slightly as she regards him.  “But between you and me, I think I can escape it” 

Naoya barks out a laugh.  He doesn’t believe her.

“You don’t escape family,” He states bitterly.  “You’re stuck with them whether you like it or not” 

“You think?” She asks, arching an eyebrow at him.  Ever so interested in what he thought, even when she thought he was wrong.  

Naoya merely nods.  He knew all too well that you were stuck in the life you were born into.  Even if it meant under-achieving older brothers that didn’t deserve to be the head of the Clan, or the Hei.  Even if it meant being forced into a marriage with a young woman who deserved much, much better than this life.

But he can’t say any of that.  So he nods, and turns to face forward again.

“Well, I don’t think so,” She shrugs one of her shoulders.  “I think we get some say in who we want in our lives,” 

Says the girl forced to come sit here with me three times a month for the last ten years, Naoya thinks bitterly, but again, he keeps it to himself.

“Not that it’s easy, but,” She shrugs again.  “I like to think so, anyways” 

“What’s your grand escape plan, then, pipsqueak?” He asks, admittedly amused by her antics this afternoon.  Which is odd, seeing as normally he’d find it childish, and ignore her.

Pink lips curl into a precious smile as she looks back at him.

“Love, of course” 

He almost laughs, right in her face, which would have broken her seemingly fragile heart, but when she gives him her answer and he realizes it’s not a joke, he almost can’t stop himself.  Almost.  Naoya sinks his teeth into the inside of his cheek and clears his throat.

“Love?” He repeats and it comes out of his mouth like he’s never even heard of the concept.  (y/n) chuckles as she nods back at him.

“Yeah, love,” She confirms.  “You remember that guy that took me to spring formal?” 

For fucks’ sake, she has to be joking.  Naoya rolls his eyes as he drags a hand down his face in disbelief.

Despite his clear lack of interest, she goes on.

“Well we’ve hung out a few times now and it’s been… nice.  He likes me and I think I could like him, so,” For a third time, she shrugs, like it was the easiest plan in the world.  ���I think if we fell in love, my father would have to let me off the hook a bit, wouldn’t he?” 

No, no he wouldn’t, Naoya knows for a fact that when it comes to arranged marriages, there was no exception to the arrangement.  Unless someone died, there wasn’t a chance of getting out of it.  It didn’t matter if she bore this non-sorcerer’s children, this time next year, she would belong to him.  On paper, at least.

“Your father is far more reasonable than mine,” Naoya sighs.  For some reason, he can’t bring himself to tell her the whole truth.  He continues to entertain her foolish ideas.  “Have you talked to him about this yet?”

“Of course not!” Her voice squeaks as she gasps at the idea.  Naoya can’t help but laugh a little bit at her bashful reaction.

“Does he know about this non-sorcerer-nobody at all?” He presses, and (y/n) chews on her bottom lip as she shakes her head.  Naoya gives her a bored look, silently telling her that she was doomed already.

“Well what was I supposed to say?” She mumbles.  “I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea” 

“I told you not to go down the unfaithful route, pipsqueak,” Naoya sighs.  “Now you’ll have to fess up to all of it” 

“It’s not like I’ve done anything wrong,” She explains.  “Yet…” She adds in a smaller voice.

“Thinkin’ about adultery is just as bad as the real thing,” Naoya chuckles.  “At least in the elders’ eyes” 

(y/n) narrows her eyes at him in mock irritation.

“We’re not married” She reminds him in a mutter.  He only smirks back at her.  He doesn’t have to say anything for her to know what he’s thinking.  

Yet.

“Semantics,” He smirks.

She laughs despite herself.  He seems relaxed today, and after so many years she finally feels like she’s getting the smallest of glimpses into the real him.  She’s always wondered what Zen’in Naoya was really like, and she can’t help but feel eager to finally learn.

“Well, what’s the damage?” He huffs, acting as though he’s not dying to know the specifics of this little relationship she’s found herself in.  “You didn’t sleep with him, did you?” 

“What!? No!” She yelps at the accusation, and this time smacks the back of her hand against his arm.

“You abuse me, wife” He grumbles as he pretends to rub the spot to ease the nonexistent ache.

“We’ve just hung out a few times.  Sometimes he helps me study, sometimes he brings me the drink I like from the cafe—” 

“That stuff doesn’t matter” Naoya rolls his eyes.  What silly little things she found interesting in a man.  Women could be so simple.

“Sure it does,” (y/n) furrows his brows.  “Quality time is-” 

He could care less about the details, so he interrupts her.

“But you’ve kissed him, yeah?” 

The question shuts her up immediately.  She doesn’t try to deflect, or come up with a witty reply to snap back at him.  She shuts her mouth and stares at her lap.  At first he’s amused by the shy display, but as time passes, it begins to click for him that she’s embarrassed.

“You’re acting foolish, pipsqueak,” He barks out a laugh, throwing his head back as he does.  Her face feels like it’s getting hotter by the second.  She covers her cheeks with her hands to relieve the burn.  “Your plan relies on childish love and you haven’t even kissed the guy? Who in their right mind will take you seriously?” 

“It’s not childish,” She argues, her voice quiet, and her face still covered by her hands.  “I just— there hasn’t been the right moment.  S-something always came up,” 

She grows quieter with every word, her humiliation washing over her like a wave of dread.  Perhaps Naoya was the wrong person to come to with this.

“Like you’ve kissed people—” She tries to bicker with him, but there’s a glint in his eye as her words catch his interest, and something about the way he smirks and tilts his head makes her second guess herself as she shuts her mouth.

“Oh, don’t tell me,” He’s snickering before he can even finish his words.  (y/n) wishes she could open up the ground and let it swallow her whole.  “You’ve never kissed anyone, pipsqueak?” 

“Would you stop calling me that?” She sighs, but it’s no use.  He’s got his paws on a juicy piece of embarrassing information.  His brutal nature was about to come out in full force.

“And here I was worried about a second-hand wife” He scoffs.

“Hey—!” 

“So why are you hitching your whole plan onto a guy you don’t like, hm? Shouldn’t you go out with a bang?” He smirks and leans back on his elbows.  “Or at least a kiss-” 

“Excuse me? I do too like him” She cuts him off before his cockiness could get overbearing.

“If you liked him, you would’ve kissed him already,” Naoya rolls his eyes.  “I think you need a different plan of action” 

“Well I— I mean I would kiss him,” She stammered over her words.  “There just hasn’t been a good time—” 

“Haven’t you known him for like a year?” Naoya sneers.  “Bit of a prude, hm?” 

(y/n) drops her hands from her face to gape at him, smacking his arm once more.  

“I am not!” She whines, followed by a quiet, “You don’t think he thinks that, do you?”

He huffs.

“I am not going to sit here and gossip about this bullshit with-” 

“Naoya, now you have to help me” She interrupts him, moving forward and latching her hands together in a pleading motion.  

His eyes widen and his brows furrow.  He’s not sure how he landed on this timeline, but this? Since when was she so open and personal with him? What was this treatment? Was it some sort of punishment? Did he do something in a past life to warrant this?

“I don’t have to do sh—” 

“Please?” (y/n) bats her eyelashes, and he’s starting to think she might be a witch.  “Just some advice, that’s all,” She tells him.  “Since you’ve clearly kissed so many people” 

He rolls his eyes, before sitting up off his arms.  That’s not exactly what he’d said.  But he smirks to himself.  There wasn’t any harm in letting her believe that, was there? 

“Whatever.  You don’t need advice.  You just need to pluck up some courage” 

She frowns at him.

“I have courage,” She states.  “It’s not about courage” 

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles to himself.  “Then why exactly haven’t you made a move?” 

(y/n) frowns, dropping her gaze to go back to working on her dandelion crown.

“Well I thought he’d make the first move.  And then he never really did and… now I’m sorta… relying on it, I guess,” She sighs and drops the dandelion loop back into her lap.  “Shit.  He doesn’t even like me, does he?” 

Naoya laughs, a real laugh, with a real smile flashing across his face.  There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that some non-sorcerer-nobody wasn’t completely enamored in a girl like her.

“No,” He disagrees, the word firm, certain.  “Sounds like you’ve just picked a coward.  Can’t say I’m surprised, pipsqueak, I don’t know why you’d go for a non-sorcerer-” 

“This part’s not helpful” 

“—but, you’ll probably just have to make the first move.  It’s not hard.  You’ll be fine” 

She frowns at him, and it takes an effort for him to not roll his eyes back at her.  She couldn’t be serious.

“Just kiss him, (y/n).  Don’t be stupid.  It’s unbecoming of you.  But you are seventeen, and it’s a little embarrassing of you, too” 

Her frown turns into a look of offense, and he can’t help but laugh a bit again.

“Don’t laugh at me.  And don’t call me embarrassing! You’re the one that told me I couldn’t be unfaithful” 

“Yeah yeah,” He waves his hand dismissively.  “If you’re so worried about it, then kiss me” 

She freezes, her expression going blank while her eyes wildly flicker over his features, trying and failing for the thousandth time to try and figure him out.

He’d suggested so casually, like it was the most obvious solution, like it wouldn’t mean a thing.

Naoya raises his brows and purses his lips, waiting expectantly for her to decide what she was going to do.

“I— you can’t be—?” 

“What difference does it make?” He asks, shaking his head nonchalantly.  “Either you learn how to be a good kisser and you get your boring happily ever after with your non-sorcerer-nobody, or you end up married to me and you’ll only be kissing me for the rest of our lives anyways” 

When he puts it like that, the hair on the back of her neck stands up.  She’d always known in the back of her mind that at the end of the day, it was her and Naoya.  Whether they were friends or partners didn’t matter, and arranged marriage only went one way.  Most of the marriages in the more powerful clans weren’t exactly in loving relationships anyways, it was a mere power grab.  A way to unite clans, or to brush dirty politics under the rug.  

For over ten years she’d been brought to the Zen’in compound to play nice with Naobito’s youngest son.  In all that time she struggled to figure out what that actually meant, how to actually treat him with kindness when all he knew was a sharp tongue and a cold shoulder.  Over time she’d learned to sit back and let herself be entertained by him.  If she couldn’t grow to like him, or worse love him, then she might as well find some amusement in his company.

But now he’s sitting beside her with the offer of a kiss, and not just any kiss, her first kiss, and he’s telling her that it’s for her greater plan of getting out of their arranged marriage? She can’t help but think he’s been using her for his own amusement all this time, as well.  He must have had an ulterior motive.

“What’s in it for you?” Her eyes narrow inquisitively.

He scoffs at the question.

“A kiss is a kiss,” He shrugs.  “But I’ll take it back if you’d rather—” 

“No!” She’s louder than she means to be, and she jumps forward a little closer than she should, closing a significant amount of space between them.  “I mean- no, you’re right, then you can tell me if I’m any good at it” 

He pointedly eyes the small amount of space between them before tilting his head at her, a sly sort of smile on his face as he nods.

“Alright then, pipsqueak,” He hums, beckoning her forward with his hand.  “Do your worst” 

Her brows pinch together for a moment, before her eyes shift down to his lips with apprehension.

While she’s distracted by her uncertainty, Naoya keeps his focus on her.  And for once, he lets himself really look at her.  Her eyes are round with her nerves, just a little wider than usual, almost doe-like.  Her pupils are dilating, and he could almost hear her thoughts just from watching her expression shift and change with each passing one.  His gaze lowers when she tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, growing more unsure the longer she thinks about it.

Naoya figures she must be having girlish thoughts.  She was probably worried about losing her first kiss over what was essentially a dare, and would be meaningless.  She was probably worrying herself sick knowing that after this, he would forever be her first kiss, whether she liked it or not.  He could almost scoff at the notion.

The plush of her lip gives under her teeth as she slides it back and forth anxiously.  Naoya watches the action religiously, lost in thought about how pink her lips are, and how he’d never really given them much thought.  Despite her worried gnawing, they look soft, plump, even.  He thinks just from looking at them that she’s bound to be a good kisser with lips like those.  If his own mind weren’t going so haywire with having her so close, maybe he’d make the choice for her and kiss her first.

But he’s too occupied.  Her perfume is wafting up his nose with the lightest scent of something flowery and sugary.  He’s breathing a little deeper to take more of it in, addicted to the feminine scent after just a few whiffs, but he’s doing it so slowly so that she won’t notice that he’s about to suffocate himself.

“Naoya,” She says his name and it comes out like a scold.  He arches a brow when he drags his eyes back up to hers.  She pouts at him.  “You have to close your eyes, you can’t stare at me like that” 

Her cheeks are pink, he notes the rosy blush that’s dusted across her nose, and the longer he watches, he swears he sees the color darkening.  Was she really that flustered just from a little staring? 

“Like what?” He finds himself asking without really thinking.  A nervous laugh escapes her as she sets her gaze on anything but his prying eyes.  The golden brown hue were piercing right through her it seemed, building up her nervous anxiety.

“Just— just close your eyes” She stutters out.

Naoya rolls his eyes, but eventually follows the instruction, letting them fall shut.

“I don’t like being told what to do, pipsqueak,” He says, and with his eyes closed, she finds the confidence to reach forward, fingertips barely skimming over his chin, and then along his sharp jaw.  She doesn’t miss the way his throat bobs when he swallowed thickly.  “And hurry it up, I’m getting bored-” 

“I don’t like being told what to do either,” She quips, but her voice is barely above a whisper, soft breaths fanning over his lips.  “I just— give me a damn second” 

She knows if his eyes were open, he’d be rolling them.  Jackass.

He can feel her fingers trembling against his skin, resulting in the lightest of tapping against his jaw.  His lips curl upwards against his will.

“Princess, breathe,” He mumbles, blindly reaching up for her hand, wrapping her fingers with his own.  “It’s just a kiss, what is it that you’re stressing this hard over?” 

“Well w-what if this all doesn’t work out and th-then—” 

“I said breathe,” He commands, and despite the instruction being in her best interest, his tone is sharp.  She obeys it immediately, shutting her mouth and breathing in deeply through her nose, before slowly letting it out.  He waits until she’s no longer shaking before speaking again.  “D’you want me to do it?” 

Her eyes snap up to his, although he’s kept them closed all this time.  She can’t believe he hasn’t cheated on her rule.

“No, I… I can do it” She mumbles with certainty, before tilting forward in the smallest movement.  

The tip of her nose touches his for a moment, before brushing past as she gets closer.  Her fingers press a little more firmly against his jaw, making sure he won’t move when she finally does it.

Her heart is beating so hard in her chest she knows he can hear it, if not feel it as she shuffles closer to him.  She can’t believe he hasn’t teased her for it.  Maybe he’s just waiting, so once she kisses him and this is all over, he can torment her and hang it over her head for the rest of their lives.

But just as the bitter thought crosses her mind, her eyes flicker down to where his hand is still loosely wrapped around one of hers, keeping her touch present against his jaw, and keeping them still.  It’s not a firm hold, but gentle, so loose she knows if she were to pull away he’d drop it instantly.  And then she can’t help but feel that maybe Zen’in Naoya has a soft spot for her.  Maybe there’s a side of him that’s quiet, and slow, and gentle, and maybe she can let go of her silly anxiety to indulge herself in that side of him.

She counts down from three in her head.  Then closes her eyes.  And leans the rest of the way forward.

As for Naoya, he can’t say he’s ever really thought about his first kiss.  He wasn’t one to care about the milestone of it, or really any of the specifics.  If it had crossed his mind in the past, it was only with the intention of wanting to kiss a worthy girl.  A pretty girl.  Beyond that, fireworks or romance wasn’t even in the question.  It didn’t really matter.

But (y/n’s) lips are even softer than they looked.  They’re timid, unmoving when they first touch his.  He’s surprised she even followed through with it, he was completely prepared for her to chicken out and beg him to forget the whole thing.  Next thing he knows she’s kissing him and he kisses her back as soon as he realizes she’s not shyly backing away after two seconds.  She follows his lead slowly, her fingers pushing along his jawline until they reach the soft locks of hair that just barely hangs past his ears.

He wasn’t prepared for this.

It wasn’t fireworks, and it wasn’t some grand romantic gesture either.  

It was… peaceful.  Like sinking into a warm bath after a long day of training.  

It was warm, and comfortable.  Like the first day of spring once the snow had all melted away and the flowers were getting ready to bloom once more.

A kiss is a kiss, he’d told her, like a damn fool.  

Naoya’s hands began to wander, dropping hers to cup them gently around her warm cheeks, making sure to touch her as softly as possible, so as not to startle her.  She surprises him again when she leans carefully into his palm, lips still too enamored with his to pull away.  

This was not just a kiss.

She lets out a soft sigh when they finally do part, lips still brushing his and her eyes still shut as she catches her breath quickly and quietly.

He’s frozen then, right through his bones.  His hands are still on her face, his eyes are unblinking when she finally opens her own, shyly meeting his gaze.  He thinks he must look like a fucking imbecile right about now, staring at her silently while she’s clearly waiting for his approval of her kissing ability.

But he can’t say a damn thing.  He can’t move an inch.  She’s rendered him weaker than he’s ever felt before.

The pad of her thumb mindlessly strokes a gentle shape at the junction where his jaw meets his neck, and his heart is stuttering again, just like earlier.

Except now he knows it’s not a medical condition.  

It was beating like that for her.

“Well?” She murmurs, soft and hopeful as her eyes flicker in between his.  “What’d you think?”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

WINTER, 2008

Their eighteenth years came and went, and with it, the notion of an arranged marriage.

Naoya stood before his father, his hands currently curled into tight fists that were sure to leave crescent shapes in his palms with how harshly he dug his nails into the skin.  His jaw was locked as he ground his teeth together to keep himself from blurting out something he’d regret, but his frustration was made abundantly evident. 

It was more than frustration.  He was livid.

“What the hell do you mean she’s not mine to marry?” He’d all but snarled at the head of the Zen’in Clan.

Naobito sat back in his chair, still focused on whatever paperwork was in front of him, as disinterested in the affairs of his son as ever.

Even now, while Naoya’s entire perception of the rest of his life was falling apart at the seams, the older man barely lifts his head when speaking.

“She never has been, son.  Where is this sudden urgency to marry coming from?” 

“Sudden urg-? What are you talking about?” Naoya throws his hands out, exasperated from this conversation going in circles.  “Her father’s been dropping her off here with me for years in order for us to get to know each other.  You’ve been arranging this marriage from behind the scenes since we were six” 

Finally, Naobito raises his head just long enough to give his son a confused shake back and forth.

“You’re looking for things that aren’t there.  Our intention was never to arrange for young (y/n) to marry you, Naoya,” He’s calm, despite his son’s rage being too large for the room.  “What is this about?” He asks, dropping his pen as he regards his youngest son with a raised chin.  “Am I to believe you’ve grown to care for her?” 

“That doesn’t matter,” Naoya snaps with a scoff in his throat.  “What matters is she was supposed to be my wife, she was meant to be my bride since we were kids, that— that was always-!” 

“Her father never had an interest in you as a suitor,” Naobito lets out a scoff of his own, an amused smirk on his face.  Naoya shuts his mouth, pressing his lips into a thin line as his anger starts to simmer.  “You were too harsh, son.  Too… sharp around the edges for his only daughter.  Look at it from his perspective, hm? Head of his clan, only one heir and it’s his precious little girl.  Would you be pulling strings to set her up with you?” Naobito scoffs again, this time followed by an amused chuckle.  “Our clans only recently started mending things after our… history…” He trails off thoughtfully.  “(y/l/n) (y/f/n) was never going to give away his only daughter to you, much less any of your brothers, or anyone who bore the Zen’in name” 

Naoya’s chest is rising and falling so roughly, he wonders if this could be the brink of a panic attack.  All his life he thought he’d be stuck with her.  The last thirteen years, he’d thought that at the end of it all, she’d be the one by his side.  And for a long time he resented her for it, hated her for it.  And then, for some reason, without explanation, something changed.  In the way she looked at him, in the way he felt about himself when he was around her, he couldn’t quite put a finger on when it happened.  

But when she was seventeen and needed to get her first kiss out of the way, he was the one she went to.

And when she was fourteen and had just mastered her Reversed Cursed Technique, he was who she told proudly, even with the gruesome story.

And when they were eight, and he’d oh-so stupidly told her that they were being set up for an arranged betrothal, she’d told him she would marry him.

Yet here he stands at nineteen, having naively entered his father’s study with the intent of arranging the details of the proposal— the dowry, the location, the letter he’d have to write to (y/n’s) father— and for the first time in his life, he’s being told no.

“I don’t know what led you to believe you were to be her suitor, son” 

“We both thought that was the arrangement,” He muttered.  “Since we were kids, (y/n) and I thought-” 

“She’s going to Tokyo this weekend, Naoya,” Naobito huffs, pinching his fingers through his mustache to relieve his stress from this pesky situation.  “Her father is bringing her to meet with a young man around your age.  He does intend on marrying her off, but he was waiting until it was appropriate” 

Naoya’s hands are clenched into fists again.  He couldn’t believe this.

“This isn’t— I won’t have this” He mutters.

That perks Naobito’s interest.

“Son, we can find suitors of other clans to-” 

“I don’t need to be set up with weak, worthless, women!” He shouts over this father, possibly for the first time since he was a misbehaving child.  “I already had a— there was already supposed to be—!” 

He can’t find the words, or maybe just the strength to say them.  But with a huff he’s spinning on his heel and marching back out of the study.  He’d said his piece, and there was nothing more the head of the clan could do for the situation.  It was out of their hands.

Naobito watches in silence as his son leaves, the heavy oak door slamming shut behind him.  He hadn’t seen an outburst like that from his youngest son in years.  He didn’t understand the nature of it all, because it wasn’t like Naoya to be infatuated with a person, much less a young woman with a cursed technique that parallels his in strength, but he didn’t know what else could have gotten him so worked up over the whole thing.

There wasn’t a chance Naoya truly had grown to love her, was there? 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

2009

For her twenty-first birthday, (y/n) was gifted a grand party.  The guest list was extensive, the catering was expensive, and no cost was spared for the whole ordeal.  The grand courtyard of the (y/l/n) estate was the perfect place to throw such an elegant party, complete with fountains, twinkling lights, and of course, live music.  An expensive part for an expensive family.  It was typical.

Naoya didn’t come to these sorts of events often.  The idea of walking around and sucking up to whichever elitist family was hosting just seemed so… dull.  The parties themselves were often the same thing over and over, appetizers, mingling with people that only wanted to show off, drinking, and then going home and feeling like shit.

And truthfully, he wasn’t going to go to this one.  Even though he hadn’t seen (y/n) in over a year, and even once his father made it clear that while the Zen’ins had been invited, he was specifically requested to attend, from the birthday girl herself, he’d said.

So now here he was, with a permanent scowl on his face and a very expensive suit that he would never wear again.  He doesn’t look like he wants to be here, because he doesn’t, and yet anyone who saw him that night would have said that he was on a mission to find someone.  Whoever it was must have been important, seeing as he didn’t pause to talk to anyone.

But he figures she’d invited him specifically.  She requested his attendance.  The least he could do was wish her a happy birthday, right? 

There’s a lot more he wants to say to her.  A year and a half’s worth of messy thoughts that barely made sense to him but every bone in his body told him to find her and lay it all out.  Even if he had to drag her away from her own party, and hold her by her shoulders to keep her in place so she’d listen.

Naoya didn’t chase people down.  Ever.

So when fifteen minutes after his arrival he finally finds her, with The Honored One himself, he considers turning around and leaving without the intention of ever speaking to her again.

But it had to be Gojo Satoru of all people.  Powerful, filthy fucking rich, charming, devilishly handsome, Special Grade, Gojo Fucking Satoru.  It couldn’t have been any other eligible bachelor from a well of clan, it couldn’t have been some nobody for him to turn his nose up at and walk away from with a boost to the ego.

He stews for too long in his bitter thoughts, and from across the crowd of people, she sees him.  It’s too late for him to turn around and leave unnoticed.  She’s already picking up the skirt of her dress so her feet don’t trip over it as she quickly makes her way over to him.

He could still leave, he thinks distantly.  But as she gets closer he can see that she’s smiling, she’s actually glad that he’s here, and once again he’s frozen while he’s reeling from the shock.

He still tries to maintain his scowl, he can’t have people getting the wrong idea once she’s close enough he can hear her delighted laughter and ramblings of “You came! You got my invite? It’s been so long!”.

And he hates it, he hates seeing her, especially when she’s so relieved to see him, especially when she looks so radiant, in her pretty party dress that’s draped so perfectly on her it must’ve been tailored, and with her hair falling around her shoulders and down her back so perfectly she didn’t even look real she looked fucking angelic—

“Naoya?”

His name falling from her lips has him blinking himself back to reality, his nasty expression falling momentarily as he takes her in and realizes she really is standing here right in front of him.

“You alright?” (y/n) asks, once it seems he’s conscious again.  Her grin had morphed into a worried little smile.  Shit, he can’t tear his eyes away from her lips.  

“I’m fine,” He declares, void of any real emotion.  “Happy birthday, by the way” 

Her smile brightens a bit more then, and her eyes gleam too.

“Thank you,” She replies sheepishly.  “I’m really glad you came, I wasn’t sure if you’d accept the invite” 

“Yeah, it’s not really my thing” Naoya clicks his tongue as his eyes wander the courtyard, taking in the estate properly for the first time.  Anything to distract himself from her.

“I know,” She sighs softly, her head tilting as she regards him, her cheeks inevitably warming up the longer she stares.  “You changed your hair” 

He looks back at her, still making the effort to keep his expression neutral, and she can tell, but she doesn’t comment on it.

“Yeah.  While ago” He replies dryly.  

It wasn’t long after he’d last seen her that he’d taken to a change in style.  She just so happened to stop coming around with her father around that time.

“I like it,” She says quietly, a bit awkwardly.

At times it feels like she’s forgotten how to speak to him, not that he was ever the easiest person to get along with.  Yet, in their time apart, she found herself missing him.  Thinking about him.  Wondering what he was up to, or if he ever thought about her.

“Oh, I know,” Her eyes light up with an idea, before she beckons him to follow her.  “I should show you the gardens!” 

Just like that, she’s leading him away from the party, away from the prying eyes of Gojo Satoru, who seems to watch the scandalous pair with a smirk on his face.  Naoya scowls back at him, but ultimately focuses on following (y/n) around the courtyard, and then behind her estate.

“You do recall that you were the one that cared about the damn flowers, right?” He asks her once they’re far enough away that the voices of her partygoers were drowned out by the muffled music.

“And you don’t like being around crowds of people,” She reminds him, glancing over her shoulder with a proud grin on her face.  He rolls his eyes at her.  “I’m doing us both a favor!” She declares.

He’s not so convinced, but he doesn’t put up a fight.  He simply tucks his hands in his pockets and bears it as they wander around the yard in the dark.

He tries to keep his damn mouth shut, he really does.  But it doesn’t take long before he’s blurting out the thought on the front of his mind.

“So Daddy picked a Gojo for you, hm?” 

As soon as it comes out, he regrets it.  Because (y/n) isn’t shy in the way she pauses on her journey so that she can turn to face him with that curious look of hers.  He’s never been interrogated by her, but he suspects it wouldn’t go well.

“I wouldn’t say that,” She muses, her words carefully picked out.  “Not a Gojo anyways… more like, The Gojo, don’t you think?” 

The smirk on her face tells him that he’s bearing witness to the witty side of her personality, the side that likes to poke and get reactions out of him that she knows she can.  Naoya rolls his eyes again, and to his luck, (y/n) goes back to leading him out to the gardens.

“So full of it” He grumbles.

She giggles, having heard it.

“My father took me to Tokyo last year so we could meet.  Mostly, I think he wanted to meet Satoru, he was a bit shell shocked.  But we got along well.  He’s… fun” Again, she’s careful with her words, and Naoya can tell.  He grimaces, his hands forming fists in his pockets.

“So you hit it off then, hm?” He presses further, despite his gut feeling twisted enough.  “Whatever happened to your non-sorcerer-nobody?” 

“Oh,” It dawned on her that it really had been a while since they last spoke.  “You were right,” She glances over her shoulder at him once more, her expression unreadable as she says, “I didn’t like him,” And then she’s facing forward again and finally reaching the gardens of the estate.  “At least, not like I thought I did,” She clarifies.  “Kinda hard to explain, I guess.  He was a good guy and all just…” She shrugs her shoulders, and she couldn’t come up with anything else to say so she didn’t say anything at all.

Naoya nods, his brow furrowing as he glances over the large expanse of flowers and bushes, all trimmed and perfectly on display, even in the dark.  A garden at night was probably one of the worst places to be.  Not only was he stuck wandering around outside, but he couldn’t even see the damn things.

“To be honest, once I’d gone to my father to tell him about, well, having feelings for a non-sorcerer, I’d gone on my big speech about how I wasn’t ready to be married off, how I wasn’t ready to be a wife and how I wanted to travel and take on assignments exoricizing curses and— and trying to find the right field for my technique… anyways, I was pretty surprised when he told me I wasn’t arranged to married off at all,” 

She’s looking at him, he can feel her soft yet piercing gaze staring right at him, but Naoya can’t bring himself to look away from whatever blue flowers were before him now.

“We had a great talk, though.  He told me he wouldn’t marry me off if I wasn’t ready, and even then only if it were in my best interest and with my approval… not that this matters,” She mumbles the last part, realizing she was rambling on with nonsense.  “I mean it’s what I wanted… but I guess I’m still sort of surprised that’s how it worked out” 

(y/n) wraps her arms around herself, although it’s not a chilly night, she’s lured into the defensive stance as she drops her gaze from him.

He merely hums, barely nodding his head to agree.  Saying he was surprised to find out they were never truly arranged to be married would have been an extreme understatement.

“Anyways…” The air is thick with an uncomfortable tension, and (y/n) nervously coughs to clear her throat.  “How have you been doing?” 

“Fine” 

Naoya’s answer is quick, and sharp.  (y/n) winces at the bite in the singular word, and her nerves begin to grow into irritation, but she tries to remain as calm and collected as always.

“Has your father been giving you more responsibilities for—” 

“What the hell does it matter to you?” 

She can’t keep her expression soft at the rude question.  Her nose crinkles and her brows furrow as she narrows her eyes back at him.

“Excuse me?” 

Her attitude comes out in less than a second and suddenly she’s crossing her arms and Naoya doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look this upset.  There’s a twinge of guilt in his chest knowing he caused it with his coldness, but it passes as he’s quickly reminded of the reality they found themselves in.

“It doesn’t matter to you,” He scoffs, a humorless smile curling on his lips.  “So what do you care?” 

“What the hell is that supposed to—?” 

He interrupts her before she could finish her question.

“What’s the point of even inviting me here, huh? Is this some sick ploy? You want to show off for once?” 

Her eyes widened at the accusation out of left field.  She doesn’t have a clue what he’s going on about, but it’s making her blood boil.  It seemed that even when it came to him, her patience could wear thin.  And his time was long overdue.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” She mutters at him, wrapping her arms a little tighter around herself.  “I invited you because I wanted you to come,” She explained.  “And I thought maybe even though this wasn’t your scene, you’d want to come, too” 

Naoya rolls his eyes.

“Oh, spare me, pipsqueak,” The old nickname rolls off his tongue with nothing short of disgust, and he can see the way she recoils upon hearing it said in such a way.  “You invited me, I came.  We’re done now, yeah? You can run back to Satoru now” 

Oh, he hadn’t missed the way she’d oh so affectionately called the world’s strongest sorcerer by his first fucking name.

(y/n) scowls back at him, which was something unfamiliar to the both of them.  She was always the calm one, the collected, soft spoken one.  Now she looked seconds away from smacking him across the face.

“What the hell is wrong with you tonight?” Her eyes are wide as they study his expression, trying to figure out what was going on in his head, seeing as he definitely wasn’t going to just be honest with her.  “I mean, fuck, is it really so hard for you to believe I wanted you here?” 

Naoya scoffs again, leaning back and facing away from her as he covers the upset expression on his face.  This only makes her more upset, and the harsh laugh that escapes her throat is anything but humored.

“You’ve got to be kidding! After all this time, you can’t just say it can you? You can’t be real with me for even a minute?” She moves forward, trying to grab him by the arms to turn him to face her, but he doesn’t budge, and shrugs her off.

He couldn’t have her looking at him right now.  Not when he was losing the battle of masking all of his emotions.

She huffs in defeat and throws her arms down when she fails to get him to look at her already.  Against her will, her anger turns into something worse as tears begin to prick the corners of her eyes.

“You know, I was actually upset when my father said he wasn’t going to take me to see you anymore,” She spits at him, but the tiny waiver in her voice betrays her.  She swallowed thickly to try to relieve the burn in her throat, but it was no use.  He’d already heard the crack in her voice, and finally, he’s just barely turning his head to peek down at her.  “Because I— I might not have known what I wanted, but I spent m-my whole, life, thinking that it’d always be y-you n’ me in the end” 

His irritation is washed away as soon as he sees those doe eyes filled with tears.  When he was younger, and more of a bratty asshole than a regular asshole, he would’ve loved to make her tick like this.  He would’ve felt pride knowing he’d reduced her to childish tears.

Right now, he thinks he could throw up.

Suddenly too much of his attention is on her for her liking, and when he pulls his hands out of his pockets to reach for her, she smacks both of his hands away as harshly as she could bring herself to do.

“(y/n)—” He tried to scold her but she wasn’t having it, already gathering the skirt of her dress to storm off and leave him there.

“Forget it.  You’re right.  We’re nothing to each other now, right?” She laughs bitterly as she leaves as fast as she can in the stupid heels she’d decided to wear.

“I didn’t— (y/n)!” He breaks into a slight jog to catch up with her, darting in front of her to keep her from walking away too easily.  “For fucks’ sake, would you just pause for a second?” 

She glares at him, as well as she can through the tears clouding her vision.

“Why are you crying?” He asks, his tone significantly more gentle than before, but it still doesn’t quite cross that line into genuine compassion.  It makes her scoff, before she’s roughly wiping the wetness from her cheeks.

“Because,” She answers lamely, looking down at her hands to make sure she wasn’t smearing makeup all over her face.  “Because— you—! Why didn’t you at least call?” 

His brows furrow, not following where her argument was going.

“Or write?” She adds before he can question her.  “I haven’t seen you in a year, did you just… just…” Her chest is rising and falling unsteadily as she tries to catch her breath before she starts to cry again, but her efforts are futile.  The longer she looks at him and his voice of emotion, the more the urge to sob her pathetic eyes out overwhelms her.  “You forgot about me” She declares, quietly, her eyes shifting between his before focusing on the ground.

“Forgot about you?” He repeats her, clicking his tongue as she shakes his head.  

She refuses to look at him, so he catches her chin under his forefinger, tilting her head upwards with a surprising amount of gentleness.  She still tries to glare at him, but her furrowed brows and big sad eyes do nothing to ward him off.

“(y/n), I didn’t forget about you,” He tells her with more sincerity than she’s ever heard out of him before.  “I’m sorry I didn’t reach out, I really am, alright? But the old man said you were off to Tokyo and you had other— real suitors to look for,” He explains, golden eyes never once leaving hers so that she could see he was telling her the truth.  “What was I supposed to do, hm? What did you want me to do?” 

Her lips quiver as they move, but no real words come out.  He watches as she tries, as they form various shapes but inevitably she shakes her head as another tear slips down her cheek.  She doesn’t know what he should’ve done, and what she wanted was too tall of an ask.

“(y/n),” He sighs, a frown forming on his face that makes her worried about what he had to say next.  “You are far too powerful, and far too desirable as a suitor to be cryin’ over someone like me, alright?” He tells her.  She opens her mouth to say something, but he’s quicker.  “If anything, you should’ve forgotten about me as soon as you heard we weren’t—” 

“I didn’t want to,” She finally finds her voice, her nose wrinkling as she sniffles quietly.  “I didn’t want to forget.  I— I didn’t want to go to Tokyo to meet other suitors, I— I didn’t even want to go out with that guy back in high school, I— I just—” Her stutter worsens and Naoya fits his palm over her cheek, not knowing what to say to soothe her emotions.

Her eyes shut and she leans into the warmth of his hand.  She squeezes her eyes shut even tighter as she recalls when he’d last touched her like this.  He’d kissed her, then.

“I wanted more time with you.  I— I thought I’d have more time with you” She admits, barely raising above a whisper.

Naoya frowns when she looks up at him, her lashes sticky from her tears, her eyes full of an emotion he didn’t know what to do with.  Of course he’d sweep her off her feet and kiss her until every tear had dried if he could.

So he shakes his head at her, a sad smile on his lips as he does.

“No, pipsqueak, you don’t want that,” He tells her with as much certainty as he can muster.  She argues with him as she shakes her head back at him, and he even chuckles a bit.  “You don’t,” He tells her seriously.  “You need to be with someone your father has approved—” 

“No I don’t,” She speaks up this time, shaking her head a little more vigorously to make her point.  “I don’t, I don’t need him to—” 

“(y/n), I’m serious,” He tells her, cupping her face in both hands now so she had to look at him and see just how much he meant it.  “You wanted out of the arrangement, remember? You have a thousand lives to live still, you said so yourself.  You wanted travel? And to exorcize curses?” 

She frowns as he uses her words against her, and he sighs softly, his thumb stroking over her soft cheekbone thoughtfully.  He shouldn’t even be this close to her, but he can’t help it.  Seeing her cry because of him had his instincts making him do crazy things he’d come to regret soon enough.

“Why can’t I have both?” She mumbles, her eyes flickering between his.

He chuckles, and for a moment he actually smiles down at her.

“We don’t always get everything we want, pipsqueak” He mumbles, his thumb trailing downwards, around her smile line, and halting just under her lower lip.

“And that’s what you want, too?” She asks him, her brows knotting together.  “You don’t want to see me anymore? You want me to— to go find another suitor in someone else?” 

He would literally rather be dragged to the deepest pit of hell and burn for all of eternity without a second of relief from the pain.

His brow twitches.

“If that’s what’s best for you, then, yes” Naoya answers carefully.

“That’s not a real answer” She argues.

“It is” He retorts.

“It’s not,” She leans forward, close enough and fast enough that Naoya leans away to keep the distance between them.  Her brow furrows.  “If you didn’t want to see me anymore, then why did you come tonight?” 

His suspicions were correct.  He won’t hold up well being interrogated by her.

“It’s your birthday, you invited me” He states the facts, dropping his hands from her face.

(y/n) rolls her eyes, and she’s quick to grab his wrists, and she holds on tightly, making sure there wasn’t a chance he’d yank away from her.

“For once,” Her voice is soft, pleading.  “Just once, please, just be honest with me,” She begs him, her eyes wide and round and just as hopeful as her words.  “Please, Naoya, just… just tell me something real” 

He can’t.  And even worse he shouldn’t.  If he were to stand before her right now and tell her precisely how bad he wanted her, that he thought about calling or writing every day since she’s been gone, that he’d lay awake at night considering a life of an unmarried clan head that would be hated both by his own clan and every other one, just because the thought of having to marry anyone but the girl he’d sworn himself to at eight years old made him physically sick.  If he was honest with her now, there would be no taking any of it back.  At this point, they could be redeemed.  He could leave her now, hope for the best with her life with Gojo of all people, and maybe he’d have some peace of mind knowing she was at least treated well.

But there would always be that voice.  The nagging one in the back of his mind.  The one that wouldn’t let him rest if he never told her the truth.

And if after all this time she’d still have him, he would allow himself to be completely, utterly hers.  If she wanted a life full of travel and long distance assignments, he’d agree to it.  He’d bend over backwards to meet any ridiculous condition she held, as long as it meant that at the end of the day he was hers and she was his.  He didn’t need a housewife, a cook, a maid, nor a woman to carry his heirs, he wouldn’t ask anything of her for the rest of their lives as long as she would call him hers.  

Naoya frowns at her as he sighs, shoulders dropping and arms loosening in her hold as she stares at him expectantly.  To his surprise, when he pulls them away, she lets him.  Her hands fall slack at her sides, her face shadowed with hurt as she waits for him to turn and walk away from her.

He steps forward, closing the distance between them and laying his hands under her jaw, tilting her towards him just enough so it was easier for him to bend down and slam his lips against hers.

Her own hands are grabbing onto the lapels of his jacket and pulling, pulling, pulling until he’s practically stumbling just to get a little bit closer to her.  Naoya drops a hand from her face in order to curl it over her hip, squeezing tightly before wrapping his arm around her back, keeping her snug against his chest so she couldn’t pull away before he was ready to let her go.

And that time had to come at some point, even though he’d die standing here just to kiss her for a few seconds longer.  They’re already panting between messy kisses, neither one of them ready to give up just yet.

“Don’t,” She mumbles in between kisses, her hands reaching up to lay around his neck, fingers carding through the hair that laid over his nape, before curling and holding on to him there.  “Don’t leave” 

The hand that he still had resting around her cheek squeezed softly, and the kiss he gives her with it is slower, and lingers for just a few seconds longer than before.  (y/n) squeezes her eyes shut, trying to hold onto every second of it, worried he was going to decide it was the last one.

When he pulls away, he doesn’t go far.  His forehead is glued to hers, and their lips brush when he speaks quietly.

“Nothing could keep me from you, princess,” He murmurs, his thumb stroking her cheek in soothing movements.  “I would’ve readily, happily taken you as my wife,” 

Her eyes swell with tears again, and he’s quick to brush the wetness from under her lashes before they could fall.  She’s overwhelmed with emotion.  She’s never heard him speak so softly, so sweetly.  Her heart is beating erratically, and holds onto him a little tighter, knowing now that her feelings had been reciprocated, that she wasn’t just making things up.

“I mean it, (y/n),” He continues, eyes moving between hers.  “You were everything I ever wanted.  I… I couldn’t stand not having you.  It was always supposed to be you and me” 

A watery laugh escapes her, her lips tilting into a smile as she shuts her eyes to try and will the tears to subside.

“Y-you do, you do have me,” She tells him through a whimper, before stealing a chaste kiss and rambling on again.  “It’s always been you, I always wanted it to be you,” She cries.  “I— I love you, Naoya” 

Her face has never burned as much as it does now.  In all her years of training herself to have complete control over her emotions, it feels as though a dam has been broken clean through.  The honesty with herself and with him was so long overdue, it was as though as soon as she admitted it, a weight was lifted, a blockage removed from her path, and her heart felt so full it was as though the feeling couldn’t possibly be contained just by the beating muscle.  For years she found herself picking apart Zen’in Naoya, reading between backhanded comments and a cold exterior, and it was taxing work, but the reward had proven to be oh so worth it.

His lips curl into a faint smile, in pure disbelief that this was happening right now.  Her hands in his hair so tightly it would hurt to move, her face so close he could kiss her without moving a full inch, everything about her, from her pretty face to her genuine words, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind how he felt about her.

His smile twists into more of a grin as he reaches his hand up to push a stray lock of hair out of her face.

“I love you too, pipsqueak,” He tells her softly, earning a sweet smile out of her.  “Bit unconventional though, don’t you think?” 

“Good,” She murmurs, tilting forward to brush her lips over his.  “I hate the outdated bullshit” She adds in a whisper before locking her lips with his again.

Naoya kisses her deeply.  He kisses her like each one was going to be their last, like this was some cruel dream that he was going to wake up from anytime now, so he’d have to savor it.  (y/n) hums delightedly into his mouth, eagerly returning the long-awaited passion.

“So you don’t want to marry me now?” He teases in between a couple more kisses.  (y/n) laughs, struggling to meet his lips as she does.

“I couldn’t possibly accept a proposal on my birthday,” She scolds.  “You’ll have to do better than that” 

“Alright, fine then,” He agrees.  “If you don’t make me hang around Gojo the rest of the night, I won’t propose” 

She grins, looping her arms behind his neck and tilting her head at him with an affectionate look in her eye.  There wasn’t a moment that she wasn’t beautiful, but he always thought she was the most beautiful when she was looking at him.  It was as though she glowed.

He’d have to find a way to make it up to her— all the time he wasted not telling her how beautiful she truly was.  He’d likely spend the rest of his life reminding her, and even then, he doesn’t think it would be enough.

“You’ve got a deal, Zen’in” She replies, before tilting onto the tips of her toes again to steal one more kiss.

It would prove to be difficult to explain to her father that the man she’d previously tried to prove she didn’t love and therefore couldn’t marry is now the only one she could ever love, and that when she thought about the distant future, she could only see herself by his side, no matter his clan, it was Naoya her heart belonged to.  But she’s sure she could find some way to tell him the whole story and win him over the same way she’d been won over.

And if not, there was always eloping.  She was the only heir to her clan after all.  How hard could it be to pull some strings in the name of young love? 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

bonus:

To whom it may concern of the (y/l/n) estate, 

While it is my understanding that your intentions aren’t to wed (y/n) off without her say in the matter, I’m writing to you to declare myself as her proper suitor.  I plan on waiting a long while before officially making her my wife, but when the time is right and I’m sure that she won’t come to regret the choice, I will be taking her hand in marriage.

I’ve thought of her as my bride to be since we were children.  Whether I was thrilled about the idea at the time or not, it was certain.  She was my one true destiny, and that still rings true today.  The truth is I love your daughter.  And the prospect of making her my wife is something I’ve kept to myself for a long, long time.

When the time is right I will come to you in hopes of receiving a proper blessing.  Trust that your family will have the full support and allyship for as long as we both shall live, and trust that your daughter will be in good hands, of a man who isn’t marrying out of satiating clan politics, but completely, and deeply out of his love for her.

Sincerely, Zen’in Naoya.

“Naoya?” 

A tired voice from behind him has the man leaning up from his desk, just as he’s tucked his nearly written letter into a fresh envelope.  (y/n) sits up slowly off the bed, rubbing one eye as she squints at him in the dark.

“What’re you doin’ up?” She mumbles.  “Writing?” 

“It’s nothing, pipsqueak,” He murmurs, standing from his chair and sliding it quietly back into place before making his way over to her.  “Let’s go back to sleep, hm? It’s late” 

“That’s what I’m sayin’,” She mumbles back at him.  She coos when he’s back in bed and she’s able to curl back up on his chest.  It doesn’t take long for sleep to overcome her again.  “G’night”  “Goodnight, my love”

[ he lives for love... ]

___

a/n: there i did it i wrote a big ol' soft piece about na*ya zen'in bcuz i have a bitchass 'i can fix him' mentality </3

xoxo ~ jordie