#cost of personal chauffeur

[mercedes-chauffeur-services]

How Much Does a Chauffeur Cost?

Explore the Factors Influencing Chauffeur Service Pricing with Orgate Runners

When hiring a professional chauffeur, the cost varies depending on multiple factors. As a company known for offering luxury, reliability, and affordability, Orgate Runners in London provides a premium experience at competitive rates. In this article, we will explore the various aspects that determine how much hiring a chauffeur costs and how Orgate Runners ensures that our clients get the best value for their money.

What is a Chauffeur Service?

Before diving into costs, it’s essential to understand what a chauffeur service entails. A chauffeur is more than just a driver. While anyone can drive a car, a chauffeur is a trained professional who offers a high level of customer service, punctuality, discretion, and safety. Chauffeur services cater to various occasions, including business meetings, airport transfers, special events, and even leisurely tours of the city.

At Orgate Runners, our chauffeurs are experienced professionals who understand the importance of providing a seamless, stress-free travel experience. Our fleet of high-end vehicles, including the Mercedes S-Class, E-Class, and V-Class, ensures that our clients travel in style and comfort.

Key Factors Affecting Chauffeur Costs

Several factors influence how much a chauffeur costs. Understanding these can help you gauge the pricing structure and choose a service that fits your needs and budget.

1. Type of Vehicle

The type of vehicle you choose plays a significant role in determining the cost of a chauffeur service. Luxury vehicles, like the Mercedes S-Class, are typically more expensive than standard options because they offer superior comfort, advanced features, and a more prestigious image. For example:

Mercedes S-Class: Perfect for executive travel or special occasions, this vehicle provides a high-end experience with its spacious interior, cutting-edge technology, and elegant design.

Mercedes E-Class: A balance of luxury and affordability, the E-Class is ideal for business transfers or daily chauffeur services.

Mercedes V-Class: This spacious MPV is perfect for group travel, offering luxury and comfort for larger parties.

At Orgate Runners, we provide all these options to accommodate various preferences and budgets, ensuring that you get the best experience at a price that suits your needs.

2. Duration of Hire

The cost of hiring a chauffeur often depends on how long you need the service. Chauffeur services can be booked on an hourly basis, for a full day, or even for extended durations, such as weekly or monthly.

Hourly chauffeur service: Ideal for short trips, meetings, or special errands. At Orgate Runners, we offer competitive hourly rates that ensure you only pay for the time you need.

Full-day hire: For clients who need a chauffeur for an entire day, this option offers flexibility and convenience. This is popular among tourists, business executives, and those attending events like weddings or conferences.

Long-term chauffeur hire: If you require a chauffeur for multiple days, such as during a business trip or an extended holiday, you can expect discounted rates.

At Orgate Runners, we also offer bespoke pricing packages for longer hires, ensuring that clients receive the best value without compromising on quality.

3. Distance Travelled

The distance you travel is another crucial factor in determining chauffeur costs. Services such as airport transfers often have a set rate based on the distance between your pickup and drop-off locations. However, for longer journeys or tours, pricing may be adjusted to account for fuel, tolls, and the driver's time.

For clients looking for efficient travel around London, Orgate Runners offers a transparent pricing structure that clearly outlines costs based on mileage. Whether you’re moving around the city or traveling further afield, you’ll know exactly what to expect.

4. Special Requests and Add-ons

Certain special requests or additional services may affect the overall cost. These can include:

Event chauffeurs: If you’re hiring a chauffeur for a wedding or corporate event, you may require a more extensive service that includes coordination with event planners or additional time on standby.

Personalized tours: Chauffeur services can include guided tours of London’s most famous landmarks, requiring both a knowledgeable driver and additional time.

Child seats or extra luggage space: If you have specific needs, such as accommodating children or carrying more luggage, this may incur a small surcharge.

At Orgate Runners, we tailor our services to meet the specific needs of each client. Whether it’s a customized route, particular vehicle preferences, or event-specific requirements, our team ensures that your experience is nothing short of perfect.

How Much Does a Chauffeur Service Typically Cost?

In London, chauffeur costs can vary depending on the company, vehicle type, and the level of service. On average, you can expect the following:

Mercedes E-Class Chauffeur: Prices can start from around £50 per hour, with day rates averaging between £300-£500.

Mercedes S-Class Chauffeur: For a more luxurious experience, prices can range from £70-£90 per hour, with day rates reaching up to £600.

Mercedes V-Class Chauffeur: Group travel can cost around £60-£80 per hour, with daily rates around £400-£550.

At Orgate Runners, we pride ourselves on offering some of the most competitive rates in London. Our transparent pricing, combined with high-quality service, ensures that clients receive excellent value for their investment.

Why Choose Orgate Runners for Chauffeur Services?

When it comes to chauffeur services in London, Orgate Runners stands out for its blend of luxury, professionalism, and affordability. We offer:

Luxury vehicles: Our fleet includes the latest models of Mercedes vehicles, ensuring that you travel in style and comfort.

Professional chauffeurs: Our drivers are experienced, courteous, and trained to offer a seamless travel experience.

Competitive pricing: Despite offering premium services, we ensure that our rates are among the best in the industry.

Flexible options: Whether you need an hourly hire, full-day service, or a customized package, we cater to your specific needs.

Conclusion

The cost of hiring a chauffeur in London depends on various factors, including the vehicle type, duration of hire, and additional services required. At Orgate Runners, we are committed to providing high-quality chauffeur services at competitive prices. Whether you need a chauffeur for a business trip, airport transfer, or special event, we have the perfect solution to meet your needs.

For more information on our pricing and services, contact Orgate Runners today and experience the difference of a professional chauffeur service.

[rensylph]

>>> 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐒

< yandere zhongli x reader ( MAFIA AU ) >

You and two of your friends decided to go to a club to party and the start of your semester in the nation, teyvat. You got drunk and woke up naked in a grand mansion and a man holding your waist and nuzzling against your chest. You thought this would be a normal one night stand and will not be in contact with you but turns out the man has other plans

Warning : implied sexual intimacy, age gap, drinking

Imagine waking up in a hotel suite bigger than your apartment with someone nuzzling close to you, your clothes are scattered around the bedroom, an aching sting in your body lowest parts, a box of empty condoms And the worst hung over in your life.

When you were about to gather your clothes and leave before the person woke up, a hand grabbed your wrist preventing you.

The man has beautiful long locks of brown hair, ember eyes, handsome face features, and a well built body with tattoos of a dragon in his back and arms. Dang you struck gold.

He introduced himself as zhongli, he asked for you to stay a little longer and he will order room service

It was awkward to be honest, you did ask some questions about him but he always gives out a vague answer. As if he's trying not to reveal too much, you didn't pry about it though since he is just a one night stand plus you're in a foreign country there's a high chance you're not gonna see him anymore in the future.

He told his chauffeur to pick you up and drive you home. He seems very well known in the hotel staff every time they pass him they would greet him, it felt awkward of course.

His driver arrives and introduces himself as xiao and he opens the door to the car for you, before getting in he grab your wrist and put a note of his number saying that he had fun and wish to experience it more than one time and then he said he gotta go due to work and you get in the car.

The car ride was quiet and xiao seems to have no intention of making conversation it was just dead silent

And when you arrive at your dorm, your best friend lumine rush towards you and tackle you asking where you were, she said that when she was in the bathroom you disappeared and was entering a limo with a fine gentleman.

You didn't think much of it, since it's college and you have to focus on it. Recently many gifts and flowers were sent from mr zhongli. He even gave you an ember necklace that cost more than tuition. It was 4 million mora meanwhile your tuition cost 1 million mora.

You ask mr zhongli to please stop sending since it causes so much and you don't want to trouble but he just shrugged it off the amount saying it was a little amount and just accepted it.

I mean you do text him often talking about you guys days and meet from time to time but it's Always in fancy restaurants that always cause a fortune to have a table and reservation.

During one of these meetings he pulled out a beautiful ring with a large jade in the front with diamond encrusted around the metal, with two dragons engraving inside the metal.

He proposed saying after you graduated from college, you and him should get married. He will offer everything to you, you don't need to live in that small cramped dorm room you can live in one of his penthouses in the city, you will have xiao drive you and your friends anywhere, instead of eating cup noodles everyday and worried about money, he will have private chefs cook your favorite food as well giving you an allowance every week for you to spend, you don't need to worry about anything just said yes and he will take care of your needs.

It all moves too fast it's been only 6 months and he already wants to get married. You rejected saying that it moves too fast and say you don't see yourself being with him in the future. You said you need space and leave not before paying for your food and tipping the waitress and Mr zhongli just sit their stunt.

For the past few days after the accident you and him haven't talk in a week thinking, you're giving him space after the rejection.

Until when you were alone in the campus garden some one hugged you from behind and whispered in your ear

"if you don't follow me or obey my orders, I will kill everyone on this campus, this is your last chance to stop a massacre of your peers, this is an order "Marry me"

[celestiamour]

₊˚✧ ❛[ every baby needs a da-da-daddy ]❜

ft. hugh jackman x f! reader — rpf

╰₊✧ some sweet softie who enjoys being home his baby little diamond toys┊1.2k words

song: every baby needs a da da daddy - marilyn monroe contains: no disrespect to hugh, this is purely fictional!! sugar daddy hugh & sugar baby reader, no smut, unspecified age gap, mentions of insecurity 

➤ author's note: happy late birthday to the daddiest of daddies & the dilfiest of dilfs! this is my first hit at writing rpf, so it might not be very good, but it was still fun to write! i’m not sure if rpf is something i’ll write again, but who knows!

sugar daddy! hugh jackman who you kept at arm’s length at first, resisting the charms and allure of an older man who promised to treat you right and seat you in his lap of luxury. you’ve never been in such a relationship before (although you’ve always entertained it), much less being with an actor with as much renown as he did, so you tried putting him off by insisting you would only accept princess treatment and wouldn’t take anything short of the best. being a little bit of a brat would either put him off because he’s too old to deal with that or entice him even more with the challenge, and he’s obviously the latter because he would be more than willing to buy you an entire castle if you wished for it. 

sugar daddy! hugh jackman who quickly figures out that everything you were saying before didn’t hold any weight as you’ll feel guilty if he does something as small as being a gentleman who pays for your half of the meal, so you’re just going to have to get used to being spoiled. he might even encourage you to quit your shitty underpaid day job with all the rude customers and pursue something you’re actually interested in, whether that’s becoming an artist of any sort or seeking out high education to get the qualifications for your dream job, he’s more than willing to provide for you while you work towards your goals and will reward you every time you accomplish one of them. 

sugar daddy! hugh jackman who often needs to leave early for work, so when you wake up in your shared bed, you’ll find a few notifications on your phone: the first being a few hundred dollars he sent for you to treat yourself while he’s gone, the second being a cute dad selfie of the place he’s at, and the third being a message wishing you a good morning with the reminder for you to take care of yourself and that he loves you. if he’s traveling for a press tour, then he’ll give you the option to go with him or not because he knows it can be exhausting, but he’s willing to fly you out to his location at the drop of a hat because he constantly misses you so much.

sugar daddy! hugh jackman who likes to take you out for fancy dinners every now and then, but he really prefers to stay in and make home-cooked meals with you. he finds that making food together is more of a bonding experience than simply eating together, and loves to hug you from the back and guide your movements with his hands on top of yours as you chop vegetables or something. also he’ll only buy the highest-quality ingredients, ones that could give you an aneurysm from a glance of the receipt alone even though he thinks it’s worth the price for the better taste and health benefits. 

sugar daddy! hugh jackman who surprises you with expensive jewelry and beautiful custom-made dresses which cost more than what you usually would be able to make in a month. he doesn’t make a big deal out of it either, just drops a shopping bag filled with glittery tissue paper in front of you with a smile waiting for you to open it. feel free to gasp and smack him for making such an impulsive shopping decision just because he thought of you when he saw it, but expect him to pout and pretend to be offended. nothing is “too much” for his darling.

sugar daddy! hugh jackman who acts as your personal chauffeur and drives you around in which car in his collection you want, taking you to the mall, to see a show, to an outing with friends, and wherever else you want to go. the passenger seats are perfectly adjusted to your preferences and have your things sticking out of the side compartments with his large hand being a comforting weight on your thigh, drawing circles into your skin while reminding you that you look perfect and don’t need to continuously fidget with your appearance. 

sugar daddy! hugh jackman who isn’t what you expected him to be considering his age. you thought he was just some old man who might have been a snob with his status, but he’s a genuine down-to-earth man. even with the salt peppering his hair, smile lines, crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, and glasses, he still laughs like a young man and has a sharp mind with insightful knowledge that came with life’s experience. not to mention his godly body which you get the pleasure of watching him work on, cheering him on when he lifts weights while you stand on the sidelines or even join him. he sometimes says you help keep him young, but you know that he’s the most extraordinary man you’ve ever met.

sugar daddy! hugh jackman who, although you struggle to admit it, makes you feel insecure at times. he’s hugh jackman, the wolverine, the greatest showman— someone who is larger than life while you’re just someone who met and caught his eye by chance. although he doesn’t seem to mind what others think about your relationship, you aren’t blind to it and worry constantly about ruining his image to the public eye as well as those around him who may not approve of your unconventional relationship. it seems like something built on money rather than love, and although you felt that way at first, it’s clearly grown into something more than that.

sugar daddy! hugh jackman who can see right through you as soon as you start having these thoughts, don’t think you can hide it from him. he’s very perceptive and will ask what’s wrong immediately, giving you his full attention and taking any opportunity for you to run away from this confrontation. he’s an open book with you and would like it if you were with him as well, but if you aren’t ready to tell him yet, then he’s fine with giving you room to gather yourself.

sugar daddy! hugh jackman who feels his heart break into pieces when you tell him that you just don’t feel good enough to be with him. he’ll hold you and wipe away your tears which began to streak down your face once the words were out, assuring you it was never something that crossed his mind even once and how he wishes you could see how lovely you were in his eyes. anything he can do to change the way you think about this topic, he’ll do, and if you don’t think there is anything that can be done, he’ll compliment you even more frequently and put more time aside for you to show how much he really treasures you. 

sugar daddy! hugh jackman who becomes more open about your relationship when people ask about it, showing he isn’t ashamed about it and is very proud to call him yours. he’s fantastic at tearing down any negative rumors about you and deflecting criticism, protecting you by turning each question into a session praising how wonderful he thinks you are. there’s not much to it, he’s just some sweet softie who enjoys bringing home his baby little diamond toys and giving her the lavish life she deserves. 

[alexrosa13]

Valentine's Favourites

Rafayel x female!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: 2,1k words, Rafayel being a bratty princess, allusions to intercourse but blink and you'll miss it

Note: fanfiction for my Valentine's Event

for masterlist and request info head to the navigation →

← how Thomas is doing ★ continuation of the evening →

~★~

Everything had to be perfect. Rafayel was preparing for that date night for so long, spending hours, days, weeks thinking about how everything should look, where to put this, how to decorate that, it was chaotic. Now, all that's left is...

"Thomas c'mon! This goes here, not here. And take that pillow away, it messes up my vision." Rafayel threw the cushion in the direction of the man, who instantly passed it to someone from the workers he hired to help put the artist's 'vision' to life. It was a rough day...

"Rafayel, can you stop throwing things around? You'll eventually end up hitting somebody." and in the next second he had to dodge another cushion flying at him.

"My cutie will be here any minute, and there's still so much to do! Instead of reprimanding me better check how the preparations are going on the other side of the beach, before I'll have the chance to scream at them for messing everything up and not doing their job right." yeah, Rafayel was especially moody today.

"I'm not getting paid enough for this." Thomas mumbled under his breath, before heading in the direction of people preparing the candles to make a path leading to the 'tent'.

Rafayel was changing basically everything for the third time today, not content with the way it looked, it couldn't have any flaws, not today, not on his watch.

People around him were scared at this point, every minor mistake costing them at least 5 minutes of reprimanding by the artist. Thomas could swear that those poor guys will have a new trauma after today...

But he couldn't say anything that would make Rafayel less demanding (and bratty), not today, today nothing worked, and to be honest, he wasn't surprised.

After all this day was far too important for him and he wanted, needed, to have everything looking nothing less than perfect.

Preparation started in the morning, it was close to the evening now, the sun still up. Finally, he heard the words he was waiting for.

"You can go get her now." left Rafayel's mouth, still harsh.

Thomas didn't say a thing, just silently made his way to his car, ready to play your chauffeur for the night.

The workers wrapped up their things and left, leaving Rafayel to add some more personal touches.

Soon enough you got a call from Thomas that he's waiting outside of your living place.

Checking your look for the last time you made your way out. Rafayel called you in the morning, telling you to be ready for a date on a beach later, and not sharing any more details, no matter how many times you asked and begged him, he said that it will stay a surprise and to just trust him.

Left with little to no choice you let him keep his mysteries, hoping that you won't regret it later.

"Hi Thomas." you made yourself comfortable at the passenger seat of the car you already got used to. After all Rafayel often sent him to 'deliver' you to a variety of places during the time of your dating. At this point, you and your boyfriend's manager became buddies, with you often helping him with your boyfriend's moody requests.

He answered your hello with little enthusiasm, instantly your face took an understanding expression.

"Rafayel was a menace today, wasn't he?" he nodded his head and started the car.

"Worse than usual, I swear poor people who had to work with him today will have nightmares for the next couple of days." he joked but the exhaustion on his face made you crack an awkward and apologetic smile.

"That bad huh?" he nodded once again.

Soon you arrived at the beach. You left the car and instantly felt the wind caressing your face and messing up your hair. Thomas lowered the window and looked at you with a small smile.

"Good luck out there, don't let his sweet words sway you, he's not innocent today." he joked once more, this time in a much lighter atmosphere.

"Sure, will give him a scolding for acting like a spoiled princess." you laughed and waved at him, turning to get on your way to the destined place.

You heard the car driving away and finally your feet touched the sand.

Taking your shoes off you walking while holding them in your hand. You saw millions of unlit candles creating a path to what looked like a tent, when did he have the time to prepare all that?

The sun is about to get close to the horizon, basking you in its warm light. You felt like in a fairytale, all that's left is for your prince to find you.

A moment later you saw candles lightning up, one by one, until the one right before you caught a small fire too. You couldn't help but grin to yourself, that little trick of his was cute.

Slowly you made your way to where you were sure you'll find him. And you weren't wrong. Between the white thin fabric swaying gently with the wind you noticed Rafayel, sitting on the bed and looking straight at you with a small smile.

He didn't say a word even when you shortened the distance between you two, just kept staring at you. You came to stand between his legs, his hands instantly went up to hold your hips, you planted a sweet kiss on his lips.

"I heard that someone was acting bratty today." you laughed, his demeanor didn't change, still grinning like an idiot.

"Who feed you with such lies?" he asked, acting clueless. His hands pulled you closer to his body, making you sit on his lap.

"Oh so now we're calling my truthful source of information a liar?" your eye contact didn't falter, instead getting more intense.

"Well he was the one who said that I was 'bratty' when in reality I simply knew what I wanted and paid to get it done right, I have my rights to demand things you know?" he was the one to kiss you know, making it last longer. You couldn't help but get lost in the affection, thoughts leaving your mind at once.

"I'll let you off the hook this time for preparing something so pretty." you said right after the kiss ended, your head falling to nuzzle into his neck, you hugged him tightly.

"Why thank you for your generosity, your highness." his arms came to embrace you, bringing you even closer to him.

"Only this time tho." you said into his ear, your breath tickling it.

You spend the next hour talking and lying in the softness of the cushions he prepared just for this night.

At some point he reached out to the small table in front of the tent, with his evol lighting three small candles beneath what appeared to be a fondue, filled with chocolates. He lifted a cloche revealing a tray filled with strawberries.

"Raf..?" you asked with a soft smile, lifting yourself on the elbows. He looked at you, acting completely nonchalant.

"Yes?"

"You really did think everything through, didn't you?" finally you sat up, your legs staying stretched next to him.

"Of course I did, would you expect anything less from me?" he said sarcastically, giving you his best 'you wound me' expression.

"No, everything you do is always perfect." you reached out to his head, gently stroking his hair.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the affection you graced him with, before you moved your hand away to lay back down.

Soon enough the chocolate melted, he took one strawberry and dipped it in, covering it in the sweet layer.

Turning your way, he found himself hovering over your body, the fruit close to your lips. Your sweet laughter reached his ears before you bit the snack, enjoying him spoiling you to the fullest.

He watched you attentively, the way your eyes shined, reflecting the lights he put on the tent earlier.

Noticing that some of the chocolate stayed on your lips he moved to kiss it off of you.

You pulled him closer to your body, smiling in the kiss, you felt your heartbeat fastening slightly, and then he pulled away.

"Not yet cutie." he said as if reading your mind. He planted one last kiss on your nose before returning to the sitting position with you following his soon after.

You sat there and fed each other strawberries while hugging for the next half an hour. You didn't expect anything else to happen this evening, but together with the sun hiding fully behind the horizon Rafayel suddenly took a more serious expression.

You looked at him with a question in your gaze. Was something wrong?

He turned to look at you.

"I have something for you." he stood up, giving you his hand to help you do the same.

Slowly he pulled you into the direction of the ocean, and the wind came to meet you once again.

He came with you to the waterside before letting go of your hand. He reached out for his shirt, taking it off, doing the same with his pants right after, leaving himself only in the underwear.

"What on Earth are you doing Rafayel?" you brought your hands to your shoulders, trying to protect yourself from the slightly chilly breeze.

"You'll see, trust me." he walked up to stand before you, giving you one more short-lived kiss, you saw him walking backwards, slowly disappearing into the water embrace.

"Rafayel?!" you asked with a raised voice, but he only smirked, before turning around and fully disappearing in the water "Rafayel!" not caring about the cold you rushed to the water, letting it reach your thighs.

You screamed his name once again, the adrenaline helping you with handling the cold water on your skin.

You were about to take another step but then you felt it, a warm hand touching your calf. And right after; water parted before you, and your lover finally reappeared, his arms hugging your body tightly.

He was drenched, water falling down from his hair onto yours.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" you screamed at him, still in slight shock.

"I had to take something hidden underwater, now I'm back." he smiled, clearly unfazed with the events that just took place.

"You idiot! I was worried sick!" he hugged you tighter, somehow his body was still warm, despite the cold water he just surfaced from.

"Forgive me." he pulled back to look at you, the spark shining in his eyes.

"Just don't do something like this again, you'll make me have a heart attack one of these days." you laughed with him, still annoyed at his carelessness.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." he brushed you off.

"What did you have to get from there anyways?" your voice finally came back to its usual tone.

He untied one of his arms from the hug, showing you what hid in his palm.

"This." you looked at the small gem, noticing that it was attached to a ring. You looked at him confused, what was that? "I made it some time ago, behind the diamond is a part of a scale." you looked at it once again, it content appearing magical "I had something on my mind for a while now, decided that today is finally the day to tell you about it, or rather ask about it." you eyes flicked to his, he looked at you like you were the most precious thing on this world.

"Rafayel..." your mind was working on the highest settings, was he doing what you thought he was doing?

"My little conch, I can't wait any longer." he took your hand into his. He saw your expression softening "Will you do me the honor, and become my bride in this lifetime too?" your hand squeezed his so tight you could swear it hurt him, but he didn't show a hint of pain.

You saw him dropping to his knee, the water rising to his torso, but he didn't care about the cold.

"Rafayel..." you said gently, as if anything spoken too loudly right now would break the moment and wake you up from the dream.

"Please, my beloved. Let us become one." once again.

You already knew your answer, he didn't need to plead.

"I will become your bride, Rafayel." you looked at him like he's your savior. The king of your heart.

His eyes shined brighter than the stars, gently he moved your hand to put the ring on your finger, he kissed your palm before standing up, keeping your hands in his.

He kissed you so tenderly, all of his feelings flowing through this kiss to you, who still couldn't believe what just happened.

The coldness around you replaced with the warmth coming from the love you shared, the love that found you once again.

[badkitty3000]

The Bodyguard

Chapter 6

<-Chapters 1 and 2

<-Chapter 3

<-Chapters 4 and 5

Chapter 7 (final)->

Five Hargreeves x female reader, multi-chapter, request

Summary: Five is hired to protect you, a professional ballet dancer, from an obsessive stalker. As the threat from the stalker escalates, Five must navigate his growing feelings for you while keeping you safe

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, choking, bathtub sex, after careKeep reading

Chapter 6: The Villain And The Hero

Five was unable to go back to sleep after the photo incident and he spent the rest of the night figuring out how he was going to deal with this psycho. The simplest, yet worst, idea would be to track him down and put a bullet in his head. In his assassin days that would be a Tuesday afternoon for him. But that wasn’t realistic for a few reasons. The law being one of them, and you perhaps not wanting to be linked up to a murderer another. You hadn’t even wanted Five to confront the man, let alone kill him.

But the situation had changed. This was no longer a slightly creepy guy that hung out at your dance studio and came to your performances. He was trespassing on your property and watching you. And he was clearly trying to let both you and Five know that he was not happy about the situation. 

Five tried to look at it from two different angles. From his point of view as your hired bodyguard, he would do his job, emotions aside, and protect you from any harm. He wouldn’t feel the need to inform you of some of the tactics he might use. At the end of the day, if you were mentally and physically in one piece, then he would consider that a job well done.

From the other point of view… he wasn’t sure what to call it… Boyfriend? Lover?... but from that point of view things were not so black and white. Five wanted to protect you at all costs, but he also didn’t want to upset you by letting you know everything. Which meant he’d have to lie, or at least withhold information from you, and that certainly wasn’t good boyfriend behavior.

When morning came, you found Five sitting at your beat up kitchen table, still only half dressed, and holding a steaming coffee mug. .

“I see you found the coffee,” you said as you came up behind him, draping your arms over his shoulders and kissing his cheek.

Five looked up at you with a smile, placing his mug down in front of him. “Would you like me to pour you a cup?”

“No thank you, I’ll just make my usual smoothie.” 

He watched as you casually walked to the refrigerator, surveying the contents, and unhurriedly took out the ingredients you needed. Then you stretched out long, doing a couple of side bends, before slowly pulling out the blender. You washed the berries for a minute or so, staring off into the distance as the cold water ran over them.

“Wow, I understand why you are late every single morning now,” Five mused. “You move like a tortoise.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes, but smiled back at him. “That’s ok. My driver can wait.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” he deadpanned.

You laughed and plopped yourself in his lap, the short robe you were wearing only covering part of your body, which Five had already noticed. His hand immediately started drifting up your leg.

“You know what I just realized?” you asked.

“No,” Five said as he started to kiss your neck.

“I am paying for your services when you are with me.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” he murmured, working his way over your jaw while his hand started to slip between your thighs.

“Pretty sure that makes you a gigolo,” you said with a giggle.

Five stopped and looked at you, one eyebrow raised. “What?”

You shrugged. “I mean, you don’t really clock in and out, so you’re still getting paid even if we’re… you know.”

“Huh.”

You kissed him quickly on the lips. “Just a thought.”

“So, I’m your bodyguard, your chauffeur, and your personal sex worker?”

“Seems so.”

Five pulled you in with a rough jerk and you squealed. “That’s funny, because from my point of view,” he said in a low voice, his hand untying the belt of your robe, “I’m getting paid for you to suck my dick.”

You tilted your head to the side with a half-smile as Five pulled your robe all of the way off, leaving you naked and breathing heavier. 

“But I haven’t –” you started to say.

“Knees. Now,” he ordered, his voice calm and cool while his eyes flashed with danger.

As always, his demands were making you weak and wet, and you automatically slid off his lap and onto the floor. You waited while Five unzipped his pants, looking you in the eyes while he took out his hardening cock.

You placed your hands on the tops of his thighs and blinked up at him. “I’m going to be late.”

“That’s alright,” Five assured you sweetly, running the back of his hand down your cheek. “Your driver will wait.”

***********************************

After you spent your hard earned money blowing Five in your kitchen, and he graciously paid you back in the shower afterwards, you had to run around like a mad woman to get all of your stuff together and get out the door with barely two minutes to spare.

Five had at least been nice enough to make your smoothie for you while you got dressed, and he tossed your bags into the car while you hopped in the front seat. He handed you your cup and you chugged it while he sped to the theater.

When you arrived, you knew you were going to be in hot water with your director if you were even one minute late, so Five blinked you directly backstage. You were about to sprint to the dressing room when Five held onto your arm, keeping you there.

“I’m going to leave you for a little bit, is that ok?”

You frowned. “What do you mean leave me?”

“I need to go back home and change and do a few things. It won’t take long, maybe a couple of hours. I’ll do a sweep of the place first and check the parking lot before I go.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s ok. As long as you think it’s safe.”

“The theater is locked up pretty tight. You’re safer here than at the studio or your house, so you should be fine. I’m going to tell one of the crew guys to keep his eyes open, though.”

You looked around a little nervously, but nodded. “Ok.”

Five glanced around to make sure there weren’t too many people watching, then he leaned in to give you a soft kiss on your cheek and whisper in your ear. “Sorry for making you late.”

You kissed him back on the mouth, not caring who saw. “Worth it,” you said with a grin.

******************************

Five wasn’t totally full of shit. He did go back to the Academy to change and to take care of a few things. 

Then.. it was time to track this fucker down.

Dressed in his best three-piece suit, Five checked the clip in his Glock as he waited patiently inside of his car at the convenience store. Thanks to Diego’s contacts at the police department, Five was able to get the guy’s address. He lived in a shitty little bungalow in a not-so-great part of the city. Although Five could hardly judge him considering where he himself lived.

He had followed the man to the store and waited in the parking lot while he went inside to buy lotto tickets or beef jerky or whatever the hell he was doing in there. Five could be patient. He knew how to wait in silence and stalk someone like prey. 

When finally the man came strolling out, with a giant red slushie in hand, and climbed back into the familiar blue pickup truck, Five made his move.

There was a bright flash and then a scream inside the cab of the truck. The neon red contents of the slushie cup exploded across the dashboard.

“Drive,” Five snarled between gritted teeth as he pressed the muzzle of his gun into the ribs of the man.

“W-What?” the man stammered, his hands on the steering wheel.

“I said… drive,” Five hissed.

“Ok… ok… where?”

“I don’t fucking care. To the cemetery to make things easier for me, I don’t give a shit. But if you don’t start driving in the next five seconds, your brains are going to be joining that red shit all over the dash.”

The man nodded, fumbling with his keys as he turned the ignition. Then he drove out of the parking lot and onto the main street.

Five pushed the gun harder into his side and the man made a little crying noise. They continued to drive down the busy street, on the way out of the city.

“Keep driving,” Five instructed.

Your stalker, with his threadbare red baseball cap, scruffy beard, and skinny frame, gripped the wheel tightly. He stared straight ahead as he drove.

As they continued on in silence, Five’s pistol shoved into the man’s rib cage, they eventually came to a more secluded area that was mostly farms and woodland. The two lane highway was almost deserted. 

“Pull over,” Five told him.

The man did as he said, and pulled the truck over to the side of the road, near a densely wooded area. Five told him to cut the engine and he did, but kept his hands on the steering wheel. Five grabbed the keys from the ignition and pocketed them inside his jacket.

“What do you want–”

“Shut the fuck up!” Five warned. “I talk. You say nothing.” The man gave a short nod and Five proceeded. “Get out of the car… slowly.”

The man did as he was told, opening the truck door and sliding out. Five blinked directly behind him and the guy flinched. Five���s pistol was now shoved into the man’s back. 

“Walk,” Five told him.

The man began to walk forward, directly into the woods. “W-where are we going?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The man remained silent and kept walking for a good distance until they came upon a fast-moving creek that was flowing through the middle of the forest. The banks of mud and moss were steep leading down to the moving water. The creek made gurgling and bubbling noises as it carried sticks and leaves on its surface, heading in the direction of the ocean, miles away. 

The two men stopped at the bank of the creek, Five’s gun still pressed roughly into the back of the man’s flannel jacket. 

“Did you get a good look last night, asshole? Enjoy the show?” Five taunted. “Did you wait until you got back home to jerk off, or did you just do it there like the pathetic animal you are?”

“You disgust me,” the man said quietly, turning his head just slightly to try and look over his shoulder at Five.

With another blink, Five was standing in front of him. He landed a swift punch to the gut, leaving the man coughing and doubled over as Five boiled with rage. The gun was now pointed at the front of his head.

“Keep talking. See how that goes for you.”

When the man was silent except for the occasional wheeze as he tried to catch his breath, Five continued.

“Here is what is going to happen, shit bag, so listen carefully. You are done with her. That means you will not be anywhere near her, you will not look at her, and you will not even think about her. Because if you do, I am going to find out.”

“Yeah?” the man snorted as he righted himself again. “What are you going to do about it?”

Five’s fist landed on the man’s chin this time, knocking his head back so hard it looked like it might come flying off of his spinal column.

“Ah, FUCK!” he cried, clutching at his face.

“I said shut the fuck up!” Five seethed. “You are nothing! You are lower than a worm and just as slimy. She hates you, you realize that, right? She despises you.”

“We are meant to be together,” the man whimpered as blood dripped down his chin and onto his chest. “If it weren’t for you, I’d have her.”

Five got directly in the man’s face, his jaw set tightly as he raised the pistol and pressed it directly against his forehead.

“You will never have her. Ever. You understand? You are a fucking ghost. You are nobody.”

There was no response from the beaten man, so Five continued.

“Now, lucky for you, you caught me on a good day. Probably because I got laid last night. And this morning,” he added with a smirk, just to rub salt in the wound. “So, as long as you follow my directions, I will let you live. If not, you will be lying face first at the bottom of this creek. Understand?”

“Fuck off,” came the garbled response.

Five chuckled menacingly. “God, you’re a stupid piece of shit.” He kneed him in the crotch, dropping the man to the ground and then kicked him in the ribs while he was moaning in pain.

“Are you getting it yet?” Five asked as he sneered down at him. “I win. I always win.”

Five lifted the writhing mess of a man off the ground by the back of his shirt. He reached into his suit coat and pulled out the keys to the truck, flinging them as far as he could down the river, and hearing them sink into the mud with a satisfying “plop”. With no further warning, Five blinked himself with the man to another, deeper section of the woods. When they landed outside of the portal, the man sunk to the ground again, still clutching his crotch.

Five glared down at him, a vicious smile playing on his lips. “If I see you or hear from you again, I will kill you. If I find out you’ve been anywhere near her or her house, I will kill you. If you even dare to breathe the same air as her… I will kill you. Do we understand each other?”

Five waited, but when he didn’t get a reply, he gave the man another kick in the side. “Tell me you understand!”

The man nodded miserably. “Yes. I understand.”

Five stood up straight, holstered his gun inside his jacket, and pushed his hair back into place. He straightened his tie. “Excellent.”

Just as Five was about to blink away, the guy spoke. “I loved her first! I loved her first and you can’t take her away from me!”

Five’s teeth clenched together and he reached into his jacket for his gun. Then he thought better of it and stopped. He gave his rival a pitying look. “You have no idea what love is.”

Then he was gone in a flash of blue, leaving your stalker beaten and bloodied in the middle of nowhere.

*****************************

Five had blinked himself to the side of the road, near the truck. Then, using as much of his power as he could muster, he blinked back to his own car at the convenience store in three big spatial jumps. Inside of the SUV, Five panted, trying to catch his breath from the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He was tired from blinking, but mostly he was still wound up from his encounter with your stalker. 

He didn’t know how you would react to what he had done, but he was fairly confident that he had fixed the problem. He couldn’t imagine anyone being stupid enough to try anything after the scare he had just given him. And Five hadn’t been lying, either. He would kill him if he saw a trace of the guy again.

**************************

Five arrived back at the theater during the afternoon. He stood off to the side, in one of the wings again, and watched your rehearsal with a new found appreciation for you and your art. He could have watched you dance for days and still be in awe. And when you caught his eye briefly and gave him a tiny smile, he died a little inside.

After you were finished and Five was waiting for you to change, Stephan, your dance partner approached him. Five immediately tensed up. He didn’t really feel like having to dump another asshole in the woods today.

“Hey, you must be Five, I don’t think we’ve officially met,” Stephan said, holding out his hand to shake.

Five noted Stephan’s perfect pecs and giant biceps under his flowy shirt. The tights left nothing to the imagination, either. Five shook his hand briefly before dropping it. “Yeah. Nice to meet you.”

Stephan nodded with a big smile on his face. Then he leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice. “She’s a real hell cat in the sack, isn’t she?”

“What did you say?” Five asked, both incredulously and furiously.

Stephan nudged him with an elbow. “You know. She can really drain you, you know?”

Five teeth were about ready to crack in half and he made a mental note of his gun tucked away under his coat. Just as he was about to reach out and strangle this supposed dancing genius, he heard a peal of laughter coming from behind him.

When he turned around, there you were, leaning up against the open door of the dressing room and watching the whole exchange going down with a giant grin on your face. Confused, Five faced Stephan again, where he was met with another huge smile. Stephan held his hands up in front of him.

“She made me do it, man, I’m sorry,” he laughed.

Five whipped around to see you with a hand over your mouth, trying to control your laughter. “You little brat,” Five muttered under his breath before the corner of his mouth twitched up.

“Really, I’m so sorry,” Stephan added again. “I promise I have no idea about any of that.” Just then, another very fit and good looking man came strolling up, holding a little boy by the hand.

“Daddy!” the boy cried when he saw Stephan and he was scooped up in his father’s arms. The other man leaned in to give Stephan a quick kiss.

“Five, this is my husband and son. I’m sure you’ll be seeing them around a lot. You guys can hang out in the partner and spouses section together,” he told him before patting him cordially on the shoulder and walking off with his family in tow.

You came bouncing up to Five, who was shaking his head. “You are a terrible person,” he told you, trying to mask his smile.

“I’m sorry, but it was too funny not to.” You reached up, brushing a piece of hair out of his face before taking his hand. “You were gone for a while. Everything ok?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. Are you ready to go?” You nodded and Five took your bags from you. “I was thinking,” he said as he walked with you towards the exit. “Why don't you come stay at my place tonight.”

Five noticed your initial hesitation and he chuckled. “I promise I will have better sleeping accommodations for you than last time.”

When you still looked dubious, he added, “I have a surprise for you.”

You smiled. “A surprise? For me?”

“Yes. But I can only show you if you come home with me.”

“Sounds like a trap, but ok. Can we at least stop at my house first so I can get some clothes to change into?”

“Of course.”

Five drove you to your house and waited in the foyer as you went upstairs to grab some clean clothes and pack a small overnight bag. You were excited about spending another night with Five. You hadn’t realized just how lonely you had been, rambling around in your old mansion all alone, until you had fallen asleep with Five next to you. It felt good to be wanted and taken care of by someone else. And you wanted to take care of him, too.

As you were going through some of your stuff to take with you, you realized you couldn’t find one of your old pointe shoes that you had been meaning to throw away. You went through so many pairs of shoes, it was hard to keep track of them all. It was probably lying under one of the tables in the dressing room of the theater, you reasoned. It didn’t matter anyway, you were done wearing that pair.

With your bag packed, you headed back downstairs and Five drove you to the Academy. He seemed more nervous than usual and he kept glancing over at you next to him. When you arrived, he stopped at the door before unlocking it and letting you in.

“I realize now that I may have built this surprise up too much. It’s not really a big deal,” he said.

You rubbed his arm with your hand. “I’m sure whatever it is, I will love it.”

He nodded and then led you inside. When you walked into the main living room where Five had set up camp, you stopped in your tracks and gasped. Then you looked around you, smiling in amazement.

Five had clearly been doing his best to try and make his situation a little less depressing. He had cleared up a lot of the debris that had been lying around the room and cleaned the floors and dusted the furniture. The moth-eaten drapes over the windows appeared less dirty, like maybe they had been taken down and shaken out. There was different furniture than when you had been there the last time. It didn't look new, but obviously Five had done a search through the mansion to find better and nicer pieces. There was a different, unstained and sturdier looking couch with a coffee table set up in front of it. An arm chair that was only a little beat up stood to the side. There was even a vase full of flowers set on top of a small side table. The bar looked cleaned and polished with all of the crystal glasses washed and lined up neatly on top.

“Five! You fixed it up!”

Five had been watching your reaction nervously with his hands in his pockets. “I just went through the place and found as many intact things as I could.”

“This makes me so happy,” you said, going to him and taking his hand.

“It does?”

“Yes, of course! And it really looks so much better.”

“I’m glad. I have more to show you, though.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Come with me.”

Five led you down one of the hallways, which also looked like it had been swept and cleaned. You had not seen any other part of the Academy last time, so you weren’t sure what it looked like before, but you imagined it hadn’t been much better than the living room was.

He took you to one of the small bedrooms that lined the hall. It was dark inside but he walked in and switched on a table lamp. You smiled and laughed when you saw the room light up.

“You made a bedroom for yourself!” you exclaimed.

“I know it’s not much…” he started. “This used to be one of my brother’s rooms, but my old room is so far away I figured this would be easier.”

It wasn’t much, it was true, but it was something. The bed was neatly made with a soft-looking blue comforter on top. There was a small bookcase against one of the walls, filled with books. A desk stood against the other wall. The closet was filled with Five’s suits and other clothes.

“You inspired me,” he told you with a small smile.

“I did?”

“Yeah. I figured if you could make the best out of your situation with your cozy bedroom, then I should, too. Not to mention I was a little embarrassed by the state of things the last time you were here.”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. “You didn’t need to be embarrassed. But I am glad you made this more of a home for yourself.”

“Turn around,” he told you quietly.

When you did, you gave a small gasp. On the wall behind you was a framed picture of Degas’ painting “The Star”. It was a famous pastel painting of a ballerina on stage, alone, as the star of the show. It was just a poster print of the painting, but it was clearly new and Five had it set in a gold frame.

“Oh my gosh,” you breathed out. “I love this painting.”

“It reminds me of you.” He rolled his eyes at himself. “Obviously.”

You smiled widely and squeezed him in another big hug, kissing him hard on the lips. “I can’t believe you did this. You’re so amazing.”

“It’s just a poster.”

“No, it’s more than that. It means you care about me and my life and my career. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

You stared at the painting, still holding Five around his waist. “You know, that painting is rather sad. The dancer is lit up on stage and she is clearly pleased, but see that male-looking figure waiting in the wings? He probably owns her. She is most likely his prostitute.”

Five looked thoughtfully at the painting. “How do you know?”

“Because that was the situation for a lot of ballet dancers in the 19th century. She is happy on stage but she has a not-so-happy life to return to once the performance is over.”

“Well, that’s fucking depressing. Maybe I should have picked a different one.”

You shook your head with a smile. “No. I like this one.”

Five gazed down on you, his brow furrowed with concern. “I hope you know that the man waiting in the wings for you would never keep you against your will.”

Your hands traveled up Five’s back and over his shoulders, smoothing out the fine wool of his suit coat. You tugged on the lapels so that he lowered his face to yours.

“I know that. But I’m not trying to get away from my man.”

When he kissed you, it was hard and hungry as he tangled his fingers in your hair and you moaned against his mouth. “You drive me fucking crazy,” he rasped as he pulled your head back, attacking your neck with lips that wanted to bruise you and teeth that meant to scar.

Five restrained himself as much as possible. He didn’t want to leave you with visible marks that would make you appear unprofessional. 

He walked you backwards until the backs of your knees collided with the bed. You were already burning for him; for more of his mouth, his hands, his body; and you desperately dragged his suit coat off his shoulders and down his arms. You unbuttoned his waistcoat, throwing it on the floor and started to work on his tie. He stopped his ferocious kisses for a moment to grab your wrists.

“Not yet,” he told you.

He let go of your hands and backed away. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he looked up at you with dark eyes. “You first.”

You had no problem with that order and you stood in front of him, pulling off your shirt and letting your shorts fall to the floor around your feet. You kicked them away, letting Five get a good look at you in your black satin bra and panties. He made a soft groaning noise and briefly palmed the front of his pants. You took your time unhooking your bra and stepping out of your underwear, but soon you were fully nude. 

With the way Five was looking at you, it was clear that you were the prey and he was the predator. You were being analyzed. Stalked. But you didn’t run. You waited patiently to be eaten.

After a few seconds, he pulled you onto his lap, forcing you to straddle him as his warm hands rested on the small of your back.

“Finish what you started, darling,” he told you with the smallest flicker of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

You said nothing in response, catching your lower lip in your teeth as you languidly traced the tips of your fingers down his neck, starting at his jaw and ending at the collar of his shirt. The slight scruff of his five o’clock shadow scratched lightly at your skin. You desperately wanted to kiss him again, but Five was watching your every move and you knew he wouldn’t let you. Not yet, anyway. 

Your focus was on his tie, and your hands worked at loosening the half windsor knot. Once you untied it, you ran the silky smooth material through your fingers before sliding it slowly out from under his collar.

Five kept his eyes on you, his chest rapidly rising and falling, as you started in on the top buttons of his shirt. Your fingers worked swiftly all the way down until you were able to pull the shirt open, revealing his deliciously hard torso. Running the flat of your hands over his pectoral muscles, the tips of your fingers outlined the stiff peaks of his nipples, before sliding down his stomach. You dragged one teasing finger down the soft trail of hair and into the waistband of his pants. He sucked in a loud breath through his teeth.

“That’s enough,” he warned you.

With a small pout, you continued taking off his shirt, undoing the cuffs and sliding it down his arms. You made sure to get a good feel of his biceps in the process.

Next, you worked on the fly of his pants, opening them up and letting your palm graze the hard bulge of his cock through his tight boxer briefs. He reveled in the feeling of your hot hand passing over him a few times, letting his eyes close as he let out a shaky breath. When he opened them, he grabbed your wrist, halting you.

“You’re almost done, honey. Keep going,” he told you.

You climbed off of his lap, kneeling down before him as you removed his socks and shoes like you were a lady-in-waiting and he was royalty. When you glanced up at his face, you couldn’t help the smile that formed, remembering how earlier in the day you had been on your knees like this. Five let out a small laugh, momentarily breaking his stony demeanor, when he knew what you were thinking.

Instead of sucking his dick, though, you started to draw his pants down, waiting for him to lift his hips a little off the bed. Once those were off and he was left in his boxers, you reached up to take the waistband in both hands, pausing for just a moment as your eyes met Five’s.

He nodded once, giving you the go ahead to remove the final piece of clothing from his body.

Soon, he was fully nude with his hard cock on display and he was just so damn gorgeous you let out an audible sigh. Five took your hand, pulling you onto his lap again. When you straddled him, his body was hot against yours, and you wrapped your legs around him so you were as close as possible. You pushed yourself against him, rubbing your wet slit over his shaft.

This time, he didn’t try to stop you. He grabbed the back of your neck as his lips collided with yours. He drew in loud breaths through his nose while he consumed you; desperate and feverish.

“Five…” you whimpered when he moved to your neck and shoulders. 

You threaded your fingers in his hair and tugged softly. Five groaned.

“Shit,” he hissed. “I love hearing that.” He reached around his back, untangling your legs from around him, and moved you off his lap. Then he threw you down, crawling over the top of you and kissing you. 

Five moved down your body, dragging his mouth over your chest and onto your stomach. When he began to suck a dark purple bruise right above your navel, you sucked in a loud breath and flinched from the sharp pain. He wasn’t deterred, though, and he did the same a little higher up and then again on both of your breasts. He scraped his teeth across your nipples and made you cry out.

When he drew his head back, he was smiling as he looked down on his artwork of red splotches and bite marks that now dotted your body.

“All mine,” he murmured, right before capturing your mouth with his again, flicking his tongue inside and biting gently at your lips. “Tell me.”

“I’m all yours, Five,” you gasped out, right before he sank his cock inside of you.

He raised himself up so that his hands were on either side of your head and he looked down on you. He had not yet started moving, and you tried to thrust your hips up, but he shook his head sternly and you stopped. His dark hair hung down in messy strands as he locked eyes with you. You tried once more to subtly wriggle against him.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he said quietly.

You whined and clutched onto his upper arms, your fingers digging into the tight muscles there. “Fuck me… please!”

Five’s mouth turned slowly up in a half-smile. “No.”

Your mouth dropped open with another desperate plea, but it was cut off by Five’s kiss. This time he kissed you slowly and gently, and with so much passion behind it that you almost forgot about his hard dick inside of you, unmoving. Almost.

“Five…” you gasped. “What the hell?”

“Shhh.” He kissed your cheek. “Be patient.”

Five readjusted so he was holding himself up with his left forearm, while moving his right hand down to your thigh. He raised your leg up around his hip, pushing himself further into you, but still not moving. It was killing you, having him completely buried inside of you, stretching you open, and just sitting there. His dick was fucking magical, but only when he was actually fucking you with it. Otherwise it was torture.

You made a frustrated growling noise and made one more sad attempt at getting him to move. But he only shook his head and held you steady with his hand on your hip. 

“The more you do that,“ he whispered in your ear, “The longer you will wait.”

Realizing you were not going to win, you stayed still and quiet, staring up at those commanding green eyes of his while you both breathed heavily. You knew that this was a form of torture for Five as well, but that holding all of the power and denying you what you wanted far outweighed his other desires. He wanted you weak and powerless; trapped and desperate. 

He was going to break you down and then save you. The villain and the hero all in one.

You could feel the wetness seeping out of you and onto the bed as your pussy clenched around him. The hard resolve on Five’s face was starting to fade after several more minutes when finally he had enough.

When he pulled back a little bit, just that brief movement had you moaning out loud and arching your back.

“Oh fuck, please!” you cried out.

Satisfied with your plea, Five gave in to what he needed, which was to fuck you hard and deep and relentlessly.

He wanted to kiss you and never stop kissing you, even as he thrust into you over and over again. He let go of your hip, letting you wrap both legs around him, hooking your ankles over one another and pulling him in tightly. You whined and moaned his name in between hot, messy kisses. You ran your fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck, and over his shoulder blades. 

When you were both teetering on the edge of release, he broke away from your mouth just long enough to whisper your name. You gazed into his eyes that had turned from lustful to something softer. Something almost sad.

“I am yours,” he said, his voice raw and shaky.

You came together, clinging to one another while you called out his name and he let out a long, low growl into the crook of your neck. 

****************************

Afterwards, Five made sure you were feeling ok and brought another warm washcloth to clean you up with, and a glass of water to drink. As he was handing you the glass, you noticed the knuckles on his hand were bruised and scraped. You ran your thumb lightly across them.

“What happened?”

Five cleared his throat. “Oh, nothing. Just hit it against the car door earlier. No big deal.”

You frowned and inspected his hand closer. “That doesn’t look like you hit it on a door.” You looked up at his face and it was obvious he was trying to conceal something. “What really happened?”

Five sighed. “I really didn’t want to have to tell you this right now. I was going to wait until you were done with rehearsals and opening night, and –”

“Five, what’s going on?”

He hesitated, clearly conflicted about telling you the truth before he finally caved.  “Look, I know you told me not to, but I tracked your stalker down.”

“You what?” you asked in shock, dropping his hand. “Five, I specifically told you not to do that… what the hell?”

“I know, but please just listen ok?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Fine. I’m listening.”

Five ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long sigh. Without another word, he blinked away but returned a couple of seconds later. “I have to show you something,” he said.

“What is it?”

He paused for a moment, but then handed over the photo of you and him from the night before. You stared at it in confusion for a minute and then looked up at Five. “Did you… did you take this?”

Five shook his head. “He took it. Last night.”

Your eyebrows drew together again as you looked back at the picture. When you realized the angle from which it was taken, and how it must have been shot through the window in your bathroom, you gasped and threw the picture on the floor like it was burning you.

“Oh my god!” you cried, looking up at Five with panic in your eyes.

Five sat next to you on the bed and took your hand in his. “It’s ok, I took care of it.”

“What do you mean you took care of it? Five… you’re scaring me.”

“I didn’t hurt him.” He paused. “Ok, well, I did hurt him, but I didn’t permanently hurt him. And I just threatened to kill him. Which, honestly, I think was pretty damn generous of me.”

You sat, stunned for a moment. “I can’t believe… I just can’t believe any of this.”

“It’s ok,” he assured you, pulling you in for a hug. “I told you I could handle this guy and I did. It’s over.”

You stayed silent for a moment and then pulled away from his hold. “How can you be sure?”

“Because I scared the ever living shit out of him and told him I’d kill him if I ever saw him again.”

You shook your head, trying to make sense of it all. “But I told you I didn’t want you to do that.”

Five sighed. “The asshole took a picture of us fucking, in your house, and then sent you the photo. Don’t you think that warranted some action?”

“I guess…”

“I’m sorry I went behind your back. I just didn’t want to upset you when you already have so much on your plate right now. But I’m not sorry about what I did. It needed to be done.”

With a slow nod of your head, you realized he was probably right. It was getting too dangerous and the man had violated your privacy in multiple ways. 

“And you’re sure he’s going to stop?”

“I’m pretty sure. He knows I meant what I said.”

You bit at your bottom lip, thinking. “Ok, then. I trust you, Five.”

He smiled and traced his fingers lightly down your cheek. “Thank you.”

That night, as you snuggled up with Five in his newly refurbished bedroom, you both laid awake in the dark. He held you from behind, your body curled against his as he held you tightly around your waist. You idly caressed the back of his hand, tracing the bumps of his knuckles with your fingers.

“You really meant what you said? You’d kill him for me?” you asked.

There was a pause and you heard Five swallow. “Yes, I meant it. And not just him. I’d kill anyone that tried to hurt you.” When you didn’t say anything, he spoke again. “Does that upset you?”

You thought for a moment, but then shook your head. “No. Maybe it should, but it doesn’t.” You burrowed deeper into the covers and pulled his arms tighter around you. “You make me feel safe.”

Five kissed your neck and nuzzled into your hair. “Good, because that’s all I want. Now, get some sleep, my love.”

You closed your eyes, already beginning to feel the cloud of sleep drifting over you. As you felt Five’s chest moving against your back as he breathed, and his warm body curled around you like a protective shell, you smiled to yourself.

My love, you thought. I think I like that.

The Degas Painting on Five's wall:

"The Star" by Edgar Degas, 1878

A/N: One more chapter left!

Tag list:  @vera-arora, @loganskittycatears, @raggabashie, @coolspider-man101, @cincohargreeveslove, @moon6star, @hopefuldesignofkawaii, @dorkyfangirl24, @chifuyu-monam0ur, @tuanputri-magui, @little-forest-goblin, @i-liketoast, @groovydazephantom, @d4rkpasseng3r, @ur-moms-fav-whore, @dremnia, @iselinde, @whatsawagonwheel, @wawawafdtuhdjh, @marydbl, @rubixgsworld, @yangzpotter, @yourlocalbrellie, @1-is-loneliest-number, @ifellinto-fantasy, @mimi4morr, @em1989ts, @fndmsrndmyfckinglfe, @moonkitty59, @wonwon1e, @smt-obsessed, @strawberrymilk4k, @voteforevilthoughts, @xfanficluvrx, @losingmymindforsoobin, @sofiebikovi, @jana0509, @callmeankiii, @thedaythatidied, @80pairsofcrocs, @sweetxserenity, @defnotsunny, @pass-me-jeez-it, @sweetbabythrills, @starlitflora, @fatcatdaddyo, @effie-revelles, @benbarnesbitj, @mvvnnstarss, @x-e1, @lovelykwe

[whoresidentevil]

Leon and Your Hair

a/n: I haven't written in years so this is very experimental 💀 I'm open to constructive feedback!

Also, I wrote this with the reader having type 4 hair in mind but I tried to make it as texture-inclusive as possible :)

General: 

Leon himself takes pride in his hair and appearance in general which is one of many ways you guys relate to each other.

 I imagine your shared bathroom would be full of hair products and tools more than anything else, though most of it is yours.

Leon isn't ignorant, he knew how important hair is to your culture way before you got together. Because of this, he respects how much effort your maintenance requires.

RE2:

This man 100% uses all your stuff every time he comes over. You start wondering if these containers have a hole at the bottom of them or something. Eventually, Leon just starts buying the shampoo/conditioner combo you use for himself at home because it's doing wonders for his hair. Plus the scent reminds him of you, it's a win-win.

Leon had nice hair before, but your presence in his life introduces him to products like deep conditioner, hair oils, etc that just elevate it further.

When you get your hair braided or styled Leon always wants to be the first person to see it! He even goes out of his way to pick you up from the salon so he can shower you with compliments right after. 

If he has time I can see Leon sitting in the salon with you for however many hours it takes the stylists to be done. He sits there flipping through the hair magazines he took from the waiting area, turning the pages over to you every couple of minutes. "Babe, you should try this next time." with the most genuine smile on his face. Even if it was some atrocious 90's editorial style, you smile and nod at every single one.

RE4:

Once Leon starts going on long missions he's unable to be your personal chauffeur 24/7, so he'd definitely want you to text him pictures every time you get your hair done. He always sets them as his phone wallpaper to have an updated photo of you everywhere he goes.

During his training I doubt he'd have the luxury of technology though, instead opting to get a Polaroid of you every now and then in the mail. He always makes sure to compliment you on something in the letters he sends back and keeps the latest Polaroid somewhere in his pockets while the older ones are tacked to his wall. (poor guy misses you so much)

When he's home with you he realizes how much he missed your silk pillowcases and bed sheets. He didn't think they were actually helping his hair and skin until he had to sleep in crazy locations during training/missions and noticed the difference. he silently thanks you for that.

RE6/ID/DI:

After so many years of being together, Leon knows about all your hair preferences, favorite styles, and even things he hasn't seen you in yet. (our boy is educated 👏🏾).

Sometimes you ask him to help pick what you'll do with your hair next which either ends with him saying "You look beautiful no matter what" or showing you very specific photos he found on Google.

It's been years since you've paid for your own hair because Leon insists on taking care of that for you. It doesn't matter how much it costs, he has no problem with it as long as you are happy.

He'd go into the beauty supply store with you and know exactly where to go and what to get, even reminding you not to forget some things along the way.

Leon has a huge soft spot for your natural hair, whatever texture it may be he's whipped for it. Loves being able to touch your hair (with permission) and probably asks to help you on wash days so he has an excuse to do so.

speaking of which, I can see wash days becoming an intimate thing for you two as you get older. He'd help you shampoo in the shower as a form of affection, or you're sitting in his lap while he helps you detangle when your arms get tired.

If you have locs I can see Leon looking up a tutorial on how to do retwists to help you out. Even if you tell him time and time again that you'd rather have your loctician do it he insists you give him a chance. Turns out he's not half bad at it and you let him do it a few times a year.

[sittingonfences]

SPOILERS FOR ANDOR AHEAD

Im so glad andor caught on with the pacing again in the last three episodes. The urgency, the Scheming, the thrill is all back, especially in episode 9.

The Ghorman rebellion in the last three arcs felt very empty, they didn’t really have personalities but rather the had roles to perform imo. You could barely remember different faces and names. The dialogues and story felt pretty predictable, but damn if episode 7 and 8 didn’t manage to turn it around . Just to have them all be murdered the second you start seeing them.

The Ghorman massacre was atrocious, but the way it changed people that witnessed it.. from Syril suddenly questioning his role in it, to Cassian who has been feeling quite tired lately and to whom Ghorman was more than he could and wants to bear (again).

I also think we never quite got such a human Deedra, who also in that exact moment we see her having feelings beyond a slight annoyance and cool composure makes a crass decision against said humanity, to follow the orders no matter the cost, willing even to sacrifice those dear to her. And what a contrast to cassian who puts everything including the entire rebellion on the line to save people he loves, no matter what.

Bix my beloved, they have done you very dirty. Staying at home all day long, waiting for cassian to show up, and that weak ass monologue saying goodbye? Like they couldn’t even have one fight about it? I know many people love bix and cassian but imo they got a lot of screentime that didn’t really go anywhere, it didn’t develop their relationship or characters, they don’t really get to have meaningful discussions and to just vanish her with the most boring reason ever .. really hope we will get a better explanation than „a force healer made vague statements and I am in the way of destiny“. Especially after the end of episode 6 were I thought finally she will get her own story and be an important plot relevant character.. or she’ll be a stay at home gf.. yay.

Luthen and Kleya.. where were you? 😭

Wil and Cassian having a really weird dynamic, one is no longer a boy and the other lost his drive and had seen too many people die already.. but also the irony of cassian saying „we cannot go back!!!“ while he himself blows up entire planets if someone threatens his family lol

Mon Mothma my bestest character of all time. What a perfect story arc. The trust between her and luthen crumbling. That he wasn’t sure if she’d follow through. I think Yavin will find out she’s not an easy one to manipulate.

Another theme that felt pretty prevalent is people can change! But sometimes they are not allowed to change because it’s already too late. We see it in syril who realizes just a bit too late, his responsibility in everything. But before we can see whether this sparks true change in our „follow the rules, justice is everything“ darling, he gets killed and quite an unheroic death. What could have become of him?

Same goes for mon Mothmas chauffeur. We clearly see him having sympathy and respect for Mon even while spying on her. And listening to her speech, having someone he admires hold such a crass speech, one, I think, many people felt to be the explanation they’d been missing, we see him change his attitude. Running up these stairs against orders.. maybe to save mon? And getting shot by cassian because yeah he’s an isb plant ofc you have to shoot him! But what if?

Alas we’ll never know, so much lost potential …

So these three episodes had me on the edge of my seat, question my sanity and yeah, only 6 days, 17 hours and 23 minutes to the next episodes.

[aishangotome]

Jagasaki Yato: Chapter 5

Chapter 4 Premium Story (R18+)

♡———♡

The morning after using the second incense––waking up to the morning sun peeking through the curtains.

Yumeka: Mmm... Slept well...

(That incense is amazing. I fall asleep so quickly, and I don't feel groggy at all.)

In that instant, last night's dream––the sweet, electrifying time I spent being held tightly by Yato––vividly returned to me.

Yumeka: That's right... I...last night too...

I could recall every movement of Yato's slender fingers teasing me, every sensation, in a dream so raw and pleasurable.

(Ugh, there's still heat lingering deep inside my body...)

I shuddered slightly, and just then––

My phone, resting on the bedside table, chirped with a new message alert.

It was a message from Yato.

(Eh? 'I've changed the plans and will pick you up around noon. Be ready.'!?)

Yumeka: I-I need to get ready, quickly...!

-

A few hours later––I slid into the passenger seat of the luxury car that Yato was driving.

Yumeka: I'm so sorry for making you wait!

Yato: It's fine. Let's go.

After giving me a curt reply, Yato shifted gears and pulled the car away.

Only the muffled city noise and the engine hum filled the silent car, drifting in through the windows.

(...Should I say something?)

This is my first time meeting a client from "Tapir" in person, outside the club, and I don't know how to act.

(Especially since, in my dream, we...did all those things...)

Still, I searched for a topic, gazing at his profile as he drove.

(...Now that I think about it, this might be the first time I've seen him in casual clothes.)

Compared to his usual suits, this outfit is more relaxed, but it's still elegantly put together, and it perfectly complements his cool, handsome features.

(He looks breathtakingly beautiful in anything.)

I was supposed to be searching for a conversation topic, but I found myself just staring in admiration. Suddenly, Yato glanced over at me.

Yato: Your gaze is distracting.

Yumeka: S-Sorry...!

I looked down, flustered, and after a short pause, I heard a slightly exasperated sigh from beside me.

Yato: If you have something to say, don't just keep it to yourself.

Yumeka: Eh... Well, um...

Yumeka: I was just thinking... you're a very good driver. Do you go on drives often?

Yato: I don't have that kind of time.

Yumeka: I see.

(I guess he's busy running a huge company as a wealthy heir...)

Yumeka: You probably have a personal chauffeur or something.

I meant it as a joke to keep the conversation going.

Yato: Yes.

(He really does!?)

As an ordinary person, I can't even imagine having a chauffeur.

(We really do live in different worlds...)

Yato: ...But, now that you mention it, I don't dislike driving.

Yumeka: Huh?

Even though it was about himself, Yato seemed to realize it for the first time.

(If I helped Yato discover something he "likes," that's good, but...)

(Is he just indifferent to his own preferences? Or is he unexpectedly...clueless?)

While I was thinking about this, Yato cleared his throat, as if remembering something.

Yato: This is the first time I've had someone in the passenger seat.

Yumeka: Oh, really?

Perhaps because we'd been talking, my stiff, overly conscious attitude had naturally returned to normal.

At the same time, I remembered an important question I'd forgotten to ask.

Yumeka: Um... Where are we going, by the way?

Yato: To prepare for the party.

With that simple reply, he turned the steering wheel, and the car rounded a corner.

Ahead of us was a street lined with high-end brand stores.

Clerk: Welcome, Mr. Yagasaki.

Yato: Choose something that suits her.

Yumeka: Eh!? Wa, wait a minute---

Clerk: Certainly. This way, please.

The clerk led me to the back, selecting outfits that would suit me from the latest collections on display.

Clerk: This dress would complement your hair color beautifully, Madam. What do you think, Mr. Yagasaki?

Yato: We'll take it.

(This dress alone costs as much as my entire month's salary...!)

While I was stunned by the price, Yato went on to purchase one item after another as the clerk recommended them.

Yato: Next, shoes and a bag, and then accessories. Let's go.

Yumeka: Um, wait, please!

I hurriedly stopped him as he was about to move on, and he paused, turning back with a puzzled expression.

Yato: What is it?

Yumeka: I can't accept such expensive things...

Yato: ? You don't have to pay.

Yumeka: That's why I can't accept it! I can't possibly let Yato-san buy these for me—

I abruptly stopped mid-sentence, realizing what I'd done.

I'd called him by his first name, "Yato," like I do in my dream, forgetting for a moment that he was a client in the real world.

Yumeka: I'm sorry, I was being too familiar with my address.

Yato: ? Call me however you like.

(Oh... good, he doesn't seem offended.)

As I breathed a sigh of relief, he met my gaze.

Yato: Yumeka.

Yumeka: Eh...?

(He just said my name...)

I'm sure I've never mentioned my name at "Tapir."

(How does he know my name?)

Did he look it up somehow, or perhaps---

(No way... there's no way he could know about my dreams.)

(Unless he can read minds.)

Seeing my sudden tension, Yato's eyes flickered slightly, a rare moment of unease.

Yato: ---It seems you've misunderstood something.

Yato: I'm the one who asked you to accompany me to the party in the first place.

Yato: Therefore, these expenses are all within my necessary expenditures.

Yato: There's no need for you to feel indebted or burdened in any way.

His explanation was curt, but his words conveyed a sense of consideration for me.

Yato: That's the end of the discussion. We're wasting time. Let's move on.

Yumeka: ...Yes.

(I'll... accept his offer, even though I feel bad about it. I have to repay his expectations.)

-

After picking out the dress, we moved to the jewelry section, where he again selected the latest accessories for me.

Yumeka: Isn't this a little too extravagant? I've never worn such fine jewelry before, so I wouldn't know...

Yato: Let me see.

I turned to face him, still wearing the striking earrings with blue gemstones.

Yato: ............

Yato narrowed his eyes slightly, then reached out––and gently lifted my chin.

Yumeka: .....!?

(This feeling, it's just like in my dream––)

With his fingertips gently lifting my chin, Yato examined me, tilting my head from various angles as if appraising me.

His face was so close it blurred my vision, and his cool fingertips on my skin made my heart pound.

Yato: ..........

Finally, his fingers left my chin, brushing against my earlobe as he touched the earrings...

Yumeka: Um, well...!

Yumeka: Do they...suit me?

Yato: I'm not versed in matters of beauty or ugliness. However, these earrings swaying from your ears is not unpleasant.

With that, Yato lightly flicked the earrings with his fingertip, making them sway.

Yumeka: ...!

My body twitched, causing them to sway again.

Yato's lips curled into a slight smile.

Yato: We'll take these.

Yumeka: ...P-Please, yes.

I took a step back, as if escaping from his hand, and hurriedly spoke up...

-

After leaving the first high-end boutique, we visited several more stores, buying everything we needed, and by the time we were finally ready to return to the car, the sun was beginning to set.

Yato: Do you have any time left?

Yumeka: Huh? Yes, "Tapir" is closed today, so...

Yato: Then we'll go for dinner.

Yato took me to a restaurant inside the Teikyo Hotel.

Yumeka: Wow. This is my first time coming to a place like this...

Yato: The party will be held in a private hall, but it's good to get used to the atmosphere of the venue.

As we ate, Yato gave me a one-on-one lesson in table manners.

Yato: Don't clink your glasses when toasting. Raise it to about neck level... Yes, that's right.

Yato: It seems you know how to use the cutlery. That's good.

Yumeka: Yes, somehow.

Yato: You seemed so anxious, I didn't know how bad it would be, but at this rate, you should be fine.

Yumeka: Really? That's a relief...

Receiving a passing grade relieved some of the pressure I'd been feeling.

(I never imagined Yato would go this far for me...)

(I feel like... the girl in a fairy tale, chosen by a prince.)

As I savored the pleasant sensation, the "prince" before me, Yato, narrowed his eyes.

Yato: I'll try to stay by your side as much as possible on the day of the party, but there will be times when I have to leave for greetings, etc.

Yato: Be prepared that you may have some time alone.

Yumeka: Understood.

Yato: ...But I'll try to return as quickly as possible. You don't have to worry about anything.

(It feels like he said something similar in my dream...)

Today, my dreams and reality overlapped many times, making my heart race and confusing me—

But I feel like I've learned a lot about him, who is more than just a "customer."

Encouraged by that, I smiled softly.

Yumeka: You're very kind, Yato.

Yato: ..........

Yato: ...Only you say things like that.

(He was a little surprised, wasn't he?)

Perhaps I'm starting to understand his expressions a little better.

That made me inexplicably happy, and before I knew it, I was beginning to enjoy the time I spent with him.

(To think I'd want to see more of Yato's expressions, how foolish of me...)

(Once the party is over, we'll just be back to being a customer and a staff member...)

I'm learning more and more about him, getting closer, but the difference in our social standing and worlds creates a huge barrier between us.

(If I go any further, I'm afraid I'll misunderstand and have expectations—no, wait...)

(Maybe...I already have.)

.

.

.

.

.

Chapter 6

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[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter One: The Day It Rained Fire

Gates Of Hell Masterlist

Word Count: 4576

Warnings: swearing, mutual bullying (?), mentions of death, blood, violence, gore

[A/N: my sweet baby angel of a project (she calls it and it's gonna be her most gore-driven, terrifying attempt yet), i've been working on this for a little while now and I'm so excited to finally share it with you!! a brand new story, no script to follow, i'm scared.]

The Day It Rained Fire

Steve couldn’t believe it.

One minute he was minding his business, trying to catch up with his rapidly plummeting grades in time for the finals, and the next he was promised detention after ‘cheating’ in class.

The shit-eating grin Tommy gave him was enough to make Steve’s fists curl. He wouldn’t do anything; Steve never threw the first punch.

The boy had caught his attention with a balled up piece of paper. He was going to try and ignore him first, focus on the class. But Tommy started to hiss at him, and Steve knew if he delayed it any longer Tommy would be making a scene.

He made a comment that Steve didn’t hear, making him lean closer. The clock was ticking loudly, students scribbling down their pop quiz answers in silence, their teacher’s head stuffed into a book. His action cost him when Tommy’s hand shot straight up, alerting the eyes of their superior.

‘Harrington’s tryna copy my answers’ was what he had said. And Mr Holloway wasn’t a man you could reason with. He was given a one-way ticket to detention, much to the amusement of a boy he mistook for a friend.

So here he was, cursing the last bell and trudging his way back to Mr Holloway’s classroom, praying it would be over in time for Steve to get Dustin to the arcade. He didn’t know why he became the boy’s personal chauffeur yet part of him enjoyed it. But Jesus, if he was late he’d never hear the end of it.

Pushing open the door, he immediately gains his teacher’s attention, the man nodding to all the empty chairs in front of him. All but one.

“Oh, great.” You roll your eyes, returning your gaze back to your notebook as he sarcastically grins.

“Shoot me now.” Steve grumbles as he slips into his seat, just a desk away from you.

“Quiet, please.” Your warden ordered, his glasses propped on the edge of his nose. “You’ll both be here for an hour. I expect you to complete any outstanding work in this time. If you do not have any, I will task you with some. No talking, no leaving. Anyone not respecting my terms will-”

“Have an extra ten minutes added to our time for every violation, yeah, yeah, I know.” You interrupt, waving your pen in the air. “Can I start this essay now so I can get home before dinner?”

“Always a pleasure, Miss Hopper.” He sighs, returning to his desk and flipping through papers.

You catch Steve staring at you inquisitively, scrunching up your face. “Stop staring.”

He simply raises his hands, reaching into his bag and setting up his desk. As soon as the lid from his pen was popped, he started scribbling down notes from his History guide book.

“Huh.” You sound after a while and he raises his head, frowning.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You say, striking your paper with a period to mark the end of your sentence. “Just didn’t know you could write.”

Biting his tongue, he tries to ignore your irritating nature, focus back on his lined paper.

Neither of you were exactly sure when it had started. The disgusted glances, annoyed groans, petty feuds. You had both been friends in middle school, kind of. In a way, you simply tolerated eachother, friendly smiles when you passed eachother in town, or laughing at eachother’s jokes when you were grouped with mutual friends. It had all been fine.

Then something changed in high school. You both did. And it had brought an unnecessary rivalry between you both, making it near impossible to sit quietly in a room together. You’d roll your eyes anytime he opened his mouth, he’d yawn whenever you were presenting in class. Little by little it got worse, until you were both trying to publicly humiliate eachother. The last time had earned you both a threat for expulsion, and you had quickly decided to step away from one another. From irritation, to sabotage, to avoidance, no one in the school has ever mistook you for friends.

And now, this was the first time in a long time you had ever shared the same space alone. And you were both hating every second.

“Hm.” Steve sounded after a while and you set down your pencil, glancing his direction. “Sorry. Just realised I should’ve knocked.”

“What?” You scrunch your face in confusion and he smirks.

“I mean, you’re in here so much, you must live here, right?”

Your face drops into utter annoyance, ready to reply when Mr Holloway clears his throat.

“What about ‘no talking’ do you not understand?” He asks, voice at a normal volume. He sounded tired, if anything.

“I want a new classroom.” You announce, and he raises his brows.

“We don’t have any other staff to oversee your detention.”

“Then I want my hour to start after his.” You suggest and Mr Holloway removes his glasses, rubbing either side of his nose bridge. The silver band he wore on his left hand glinted against the light.

“Miss-”

“Or, you know what,” You continue, smiling at Steve. “I’m feeling so charitable today, how about I take his hour and add it onto mine.”

“That’s-” Mr Holloway starts, but Steve scoffs.

“Jesus, you are such a child.” He says, folding his arms. “Can’t even spend an hour in silence.”

“Mr Harr-”

“It’s hard to even think in here with all this hairspray I’m suddenly breathing in.” You glare and Steve grits his teeth.

“Yeah? How about you-”

A startling crash echoes through the hallway, silencing the classroom immediately. Standing from his chair, Mr Holloway sends a wide eyed look to his students. He clears his throat and slips the glasses back onto his nose.

“Wait here, please. I’ll be back as soon as I find out what’s going on.” He announces, collecting his keys and leaving the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Barely a second passes before you’re lunging at the door, trying the doorknob.

“Asshole.” You curse, slumping your shoulders and kicking the door. “Of course he locks us in.”

“How fun.” Steve smirks and you glare at him. “Maybe if you weren’t getting in trouble all the time, you wouldn’t be stuck in here with me.”

“Bite me, Harrington.” You scoff, pushing away from the door.

He wasn’t wrong, though. You were getting in trouble so persistently lately that you were getting closer to ruining your chances for college. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to graduate, you’ll be damned if you never escape this hell hole of a town, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were acting out. No one cared to ask why.

“I mean, if anyone’s gonna know the rules, it’ll be the Chief’s daughter, right?” He retorts and you stop, biting your tongue. “Ooh. I forgot. Daddy issues?”

“Oh my god. Do you ever shut the fuck up?” You groan, spinning around to face him.

Steve doesn’t reply.

“Oh, right. Sorry I forget your hair plugs your ears.” You lean forward, cupping your hands around your mouth like a megaphone. “Do. You. Ever-”

“Jesus, can you just be nice for one in your miserable-”

A loud blood-curdling scream rips into your argument, freezing you both in place.

“What the hell was that?” Steve whispers out, the silence that ensued suddenly all too frightening.

“Probably… probably just some kids, uh, messing around.” You reply, nodding mostly to yourself. Then, as your nerves took over, you started to laugh.

“Why are you laughing right now?” Steve frowns, startled by your reaction.

“The look on your face, I don’t know, it was funny.” You chuckle, feeling your heart beat slowly return to normal. “It’s not the first time someone’s had a screaming fit during detention.”

“Fucking hell.” He breathes, leaning back in his seat. “I see why no one hangs around this place after the last bell.”

“Yep. All that’s left are the stoners, and degenerates.” You quip, leaning against the front desk. “Now, I know you’re not a stoner…”

“Shut it.” Steve clicks his jaw, deciding to just stare out of the window. It had gotten darker outside. Weird, considering you were only just in April. The sun never set this early.

Minutes ticked by, rendering you restless. You were fiddling with your jumper, pulling at loose threads, procrastinating the half-finished essay taunting your eyes. And, after a while, you decided enough was enough.

“Okay, this is ridiculous.” You say, circling the desk and rooting through drawers.

“Did no one teach you patience as a child?” Steve comments, peeling his eyes away from the window to feed his curiosity.

“Did no one tell you that hair can exist without vats of gel?” You retort, pulling open a drawer that jingled with the harsh motion. “Bingo.”

“What?” Steve straightens up, peering over the desk to see you stand, keys dangling from your fingers.

“He always keeps a spare.” You grin, bounding over to the classroom door. This might be the second time you’ve escaped educational imprisonment, and it sure wasn’t going to be the last.

“Really?” Steve holds out his arm, rocking back in his chair. “He’ll be back soon.”

“So?” You shrug, “He always does this. He goes out to investigate something and doesn’t return until the hour’s over.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. The asshole’s probably sat down right now in the break room with some coffee,” You say, turning the key and slowly turning the door knob. “Thinking that those kids he left in detention are suckers-”

You hadn’t opened it merely an inch before another scream bounces off the walls, more distant than the last.

Steve springs up from his seat this time, knocking over his chair. You jump at his sudden burst, widening your eyes.

“Jesus, calm down.” You look him up and down. “Don’t go ruining that hair, it’s the moneymaker.”

“Where are you going?” He asks as you pocket the keys and take a step forward.

“Gonna go see who’s screaming and give them a peace of my mind.” You say, already outside the classroom.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He warns and you raise a brow.

“Look, you can stay here if you’re scared he’s gonna catch you, but I’m not listening to any more screams for the rest of the hour, okay? It’s probably just Phil and his stoner gang thinking that the school’s empty.”

Steve didn’t look convinced and you laugh. “Oh, stop. Don’t go pretending like you care about me when we both know you’re just worried you’re gonna have to take the blame for my disappearance.”

He almost winces. Take the blame for my disappearance.

Fuck, it shouldn’t have made his heart shatter the way it did. Suddenly he’s back in that bathroom, chipped pieces of a future crashing and burning, a slurred voice stabbing him where it hurt. You’re pretending like everything’s okay. Like we didn’t kill Barb.

You frown at how ill he suddenly looked. Something you’ve pretended not to notice ever since school came back from Christmas break. His jumpy nature anytime a locker slammed shut, the nervous excuses when someone suggests he should throw a pool party. You didn’t care, you shouldn’t. But you still noticed.

“Okay, how about this?” You sigh, shuffling back into the classroom and closing the door with a soft click, leaning against it. “I’ll just see if I can spot Holloway. If I haven’t in the first two minutes, I’ll come straight back and we can pretend like I never left when he eventually returns. Good?”

“Yeah.” Steve says quietly, still frowning as he leans against the front desk, palms flat against the surface either side of him.

“Oh-kay.” You turn back around, ignoring that persistent feeling that told you to stay with him. Why? He hadn’t ever done anything for you.

Slipping out of the door, you start wandering down the halls, peering into empty classrooms. You and Steve seemed to be the only students left, excluding whoever was winding up your teacher by screaming across the school.

You weren’t planning on detention today. The first five times were boring enough. But that changed this morning, before you refused to be in the cabin for one more second and stormed out into the surrounding nature, a bad morning to start off a bad day. Detention ensured you had an excuse to stay away longer.

You were sure two minutes passed by as you glance up at a convenient clock, slumping your shoulders. You did make a promise. And Mr Holloway was nowhere to be seen.

Turning on your heel, you were about to walk back the way you came when you thought you could hear something, a quiet humming sound. Maybe you were right and Holloway was making his coffee right now.

In the mood for a little defiance, you head towards the noise. Anything to keep you from going home.

You round a corner, scanning the space and coming to an abrupt halt. Your stomach drops.

Blood marks the floors, red handprints smeared across the wall. It was a crimson path that dragged down the hallways, bending around the corner out of your sight. Any expectations you had of what this hallway would be like were trapped in shock, your skin feeling like fire as your nerves scream at you to leave.

So you turn around, heart loud enough to beat your eardrums.

But what if someone was hurt?

Shit, you thought, looking back, no. No, it’s not my problem.

And then you started thinking that if you left whoever it was now, you could be the reason they died.

Reluctantly, you walk down the hall, dodging the spill. Maybe this wasn’t blood. Maybe it was a prank, or a simple accidental spill of red juice.

The smell didn’t make it seem less so as you grip your sweater sleeves in your hands, that humming sound getting louder by the second.

And, when you finally turn that corner, you feel the breath being dragged from your lungs.

A girl was led on the floor, eyes staring straight at you, arms splayed either side of her. Blood was splattered all over her face, staining her clothes.

And something was eating her chest, ripping into her body.

Tears flooded your eyes, your hand covering the whimpers threatening your throat, feet slowly backing away. There was an emergency exit behind you, just further down the hall. You could make it.

Her dead eyes were looking straight through you, and you couldn’t do anything for her – all that blood. You couldn’t -There was so much blood.

Your eyes stay glued to the monster, cautious steps taking you backwards, until you could slip back around the corner. You needed to get out of here fast.

Steve, you suddenly think, eyes widening. You needed to get Steve. No matter how much you despised him, no one deserved to end up like that girl. Oh my god. That poor girl. So much blood.

Taking a deep breath, something grabbed your shoulder and you almost scream. Covering your mouth with your hands, you glance at whatever creature has suddenly got you in its grasp and prepare for-

A silver ring shone back at you and you sigh in relief. It was Mr Holloway.

“Thank god.” You whisper shakily, turning around. You can just see your startled reflection in his glasses. “There’s a girl back there and this- this thing it’s… it’s eating her.”

You look up to him with watering eyes, choking on your own words, and frown. Something was wrong.

His hair was matted to his head, a crack in the corner of his glasses. There was something black spilled over his chin, dripping onto his shirt.

“Are you okay?” You ask, instinctively taking a step back.

He doesn’t respond.

“Mr Holloway?”

His wild eyes suddenly darted upwards, staring at you.

Then, he pounces.

He’s snarling as he claws at your jumper, pulling you down to the ground with him. In haste you try and push him off of you, but this man was a lot bigger than you, wrapping his hands around your throat and smashing your head into the cold ground.

Struggling against his weight, he rears his head closer to you.

“Stop!” You try, his tightening grip on your neck releasing the word as a strained whisper.

Before the restraint became too unbearable, you had curled your fingers around the keys in your pocket and plunged the metal into the skin of his hand.

He shrieks in pain, scurrying back and finally releasing you. Your breaths are quick and shallow, mustering up any oxygen to pull yourself away from him.

You manage to stumble onto foot, turning around to see him glaring at you, a dripping line of black oozing from the wound you made. He looked scared for a second, cradling his hand. Remnants of him were fading in and out. Like he was possessed.

And then he growled. Something alien, animalistic.

Everything in the world felt distant when he opens his mouth, your breath hitching in your throat. Pieces fell away from it, four sections opening like a flower and exhibiting his rows of tiny sharp teeth. It wasn’t natural. None of it was natural.

Your body reacted before your brain, back hitting the wall as he stalked towards you. He was backing you into a corner, leaving you little chance of survival. You were going to die. He was going to kill you- your teacher was going to kill you.

Something red catches the corner of your eye and you glance over. With little time left, you throw yourself towards it and tug it from the wall.

You swing the fire extinguisher just in time for it to collide with the side of his head as he lunges at you, a sickening crunch of impact driving you backward into a stumble.

The lights above you are flickering out of control as you find your teacher hunched against the wall, still. You had driven him down, hopefully knocking him unconscious. The uncoordinated lights weren’t helping your assessment, hands still gripping the metal canister in fear.

Finally, a flash of luminescence brightens the scene long enough for you see what you had done, a sob escaping your lips. His arms were limp at his sides, neck rolled to the side. And his head was caved in, blood dripping from his mouth.

You killed him.

A throbbing ache was building in your head, the back of your skull feeling all too hot. Removing a hand from the extinguisher, you delicately pat the surface and wince, feeling the damp collected on your scalp and hair. You were bleeding.

And, just for a second, you were distracted.

A sharp, searing pain strikes your ankle, causing your one-handed grip on your only weapon to falter and it crashes onto the ground with you, slipping from your fingertips. You watch as it rolls away when the thing tugs violently on your leg, pulling you backwards as you scream into the empty hallway.

The floor was sticky, blood covering your clothes and any bare skin. You were sure it was smeared across your cheek as you cry out for help, fingers slipping against the ground as you tried to find some friction.

You knew it was the creature you had seen before, the cause of the blood you were currently being dragged through. You were going to end up like that girl, bloods mixing into the paste of victims ripped apart. Dead, alone. Prey.

Your hands slip against a door frame before it all stopped too suddenly. You weren’t outrunning it, you had to accept that. You curled up, tears streaming down your face as you prepared for the inevitable. It was going to split you apart, have you feel everything. An endless amount of pain for a terrifying ending.

But you didn’t want it to end.

No matter how many times you argued with him, you didn’t want your father to lose another child.

When it made the first brush of contact against your back, you flipped onto your back and drove your leg hard against it, catching sight of the dark bloody keys glinting in the flashing bulbs just outside of the room. You must have accidentally dragged them with you. And now they were your only hope.

With a yell, you slide the metal between your fingers and curl into a fist, spinning around and moving quickly to stab it before it could kill you.

“Woah, woah, woah! Woah, it’s me!”

You barely manage to catch yourself, stumbling back with wide eyes. You were blinking against the blinding pattern of artificial lights, arm still raised.

“It’s me! Steve!”

It all finally came back into focus and you lower your fist, a shaky breath of relief, as you observe the boy in front of you. His hair was a little wild, chest rising heavily as he clutched your lost fire extinguisher in his hands, black blood marking the bottom and rising along the metal in splatters, matching his face.

At his feet lay the creature that attacked you, its mushy face enough to settle that it wasn’t getting back up.

“Shit.” You finally drop the keys, lowering to rest your hands on your knees and catch your breath.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, but as he looked at you, he already knew the answer.

When you left the classroom, Steve had felt uneasy about the whole ordeal.

From saving Jonathan from the Demogorgon to fighting those demodogs for the kids, he had been on edge for what seemed every day of his life. Any bump in the night, any twig snapping in the forest, it all rushed back to his head in a throbbing blur of reasons he’d never be able to sleep again.

So, when the second scream had rung out and you had gone after it, Steve could only fear the worse.

He had convinced himself it was nothing. That he was just being paranoid.

Then the overhead lights started to flicker, flashes of colourful bulbs and Nancy’s panicked yells replaying in the horror of his mind. Something was wrong. He knew he should always trust his instinct.

And then, one last scream. Your scream.

He dumped everything where it was, taking off out of the classroom in a rush that almost had him barrelling through the wooden door. He didn’t care if you hated him, if he hated you. No one deserved to die. And he couldn’t live with himself if he knew he had left you.

His feet rounded the corner so quickly he almost slipped on the slick floor. He glanced down, heart racing until it burned his throat with bile. Blood.

I’m too late, he thought, dodging a body laying against the wall. It wasn’t you, the build all too different to have him second guess.

He clocked an extinguisher that had rolled into a wall, grabbing it as he sped past. He was seriously missing that bat right about now.

Steve almost missed it, set on getting there fast. But he saw it, a demodog of his nightmares dragging something into an empty classroom.

You.

Not wasting any more time, he lifted the extinguisher and jumped over you, landing just beside the creature biting at your foot. With as much force as he could muster, he drove the dull edge of the metal can down hard, knocking it off of you completely.

As it snarled back at him, pouncing, he met its sharp mouth with the can once again, bludgeoning it over and over until he was certain it stopped moving, faceless head flattened against the shine of the school floors.

Relaxing his shoulders, he moved to check you’re okay, that he really wasn’t too late. Your curled up body on the floor hadn’t relaxed him. Neither did the sudden pain to his leg as a sole makes contact with his shins, surely leaving a bruise as he staggers back.

And then you’re spinning onto your feet, lunging for something in the dark and turning to face him in the light, fist raised, fear in your eyes he hadn’t seen before.

He really wished you had just stayed in that classroom. And you looked like you did too.

“Shit, are you okay?”

You look up at him through knotted brows, blood staining your skin. You looked like hell.

“No.” You exasperate, holding back a sob. “No, I am not okay!”

“Right.” Steve nods. He felt stupid even asking the question in the first place. “Sorry.”

Rather than say something snarky, a retort Steve became accustomed to, you simply place your hands on your head, looking down at the monster dead by his feet.

“What the fuck is going on?” You ask. Your voice was merely a whisper, terror coating your words.

Just as Steve opened his mouth to respond, a growl echoed through the corridors, raising goosebumps along his skin. You look down the hallway you stood out in with a darted gaze, faded silhouettes dancing against the walls.

“We need to get out of here.” Steve moves towards you and holds out his hand, silently begging you to take it.

You look down at it, frowning. You had no idea what was going on, how to even continue after the experience you just had. Every possible fibre of your being just wanted to curl up and hide, to admit defeat. You were terrified. And this boy in front of you was offering his hand like it was normal, face set as if he knew what he was doing. How could he possibly be calm?

“You’re gonna have to trust me on this one.” Steve says, eyes unwavering from yours. In a normal circumstance you would have said no, told him where to shove his trust.

But this wasn’t a normal circumstance.

And in this moment, you trusted him completely.

You shoved your hand into his and he grasped it tightly, pulling you with him into the hallway and letting him guide you out of the school, away from the building echo of snarls behind you. You’ll cringe about the fact you were holding hands with Harrington later, when you were sure you had made it out alive.

You thought it could be over, just a freak accident in the school that would be swiftly taking care of, leaving you with scars but a sound mind knowing it was finished. The emergency exit had other ideas.

Steve throws himself against the exit, pulling you with him onto what you hoped would be safe grass. He lets go of your hand to slam the door shut behind him, backing away and finally releasing that shaky breath building in his chest.

Running a hand through his hair, he turns to you, expecting your confused and scared expression to con him into spilling the truth about the creatures. But your eyes were fixed on the sky, a numb expression instead.

Steve follows your stare, heart plummeting with it.

The atmosphere was dark, pieces of burning sky spiralling down in black ash, red lightning clashing against the charred clouds. One in particular was menacing, like a shadow.

The shadow wasn’t a cloud.

It stretched across the buildings, hauntingly built like a spider, invading the sky with its thick body. It looked like it was glitching, its shape buzzing on its outer corners like it was…

dust.

Chapter Two: Harsh Reality ->

taglist: @manyfandomsfanvergent . @sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose . @palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear .

let me know if you want to be added/ removed from the taglist!

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Try Me Part 5/6

Y'all are not ready for this. Not at all actually! 😝

Summary - A six part series where reader is a very passionate football player and Ruben is her new and equally passionate football coach. However, the two of them can't seem to get along.

Enjoy!

You didn't sit with Ruben on the bus ride home. He sat up front, you in the back and Hannah in the middle. He was on your mind though, the fact that he probably rubbed one off to the video you sent him.

It was wrong of you to lie to him like this, yes. But telling him the truth now, how would that go? The best thing to do was to let your conversation thread on tinder die, stop replying to his messages all together.

"Here you go."

"Thanks."

You were the last person off the bus. Ruben helped the chauffeur unload everyone's bags.

"Do you need a ride home?" He asked, as the two of you were the last ones to leave the stadium parking lot.

"I..."

You probably shouldn't. You definitely shouldn't.

"Yes, Ruben. Thank you."

It was a quiet car ride home. Still, you enjoyed it, being near Ruben. With him you felt at home, more than in your own home.

"I'm home!"

Stepping into the apartment, the stench of alcohol hit you like a punch to the gut. The floor was sticky beneath your feet. You discovered your dad and his friends sprawled across the living room, unconscious and inebriated. You clenched your fists, struggling to control the fury welling up inside of you. How could he put his own selfish desires before his family?

"Dad?" You tried calling, but he only grunted in response.

"Dad, I'm home?"

You approached him, stirring his limb body. That seemed to do it.

"Y/N?" He said groggy, eyes slowly coming to. "What are you doing here, where have you been?"

You frowned. "Dad, I told you that..."

You paused, hearing a faint cry coming from your room. Wasting no time you sprang forward, heart pounding in your chest. You swung the door open to find  Mimi, standing there with a stranger. The man's unsteady steps and glassy eyes revealed his intoxicated state.

What was she doing here? She wasn't supposed to be here.

"Y/N!" Mimi cried out, relief washing over her face. "I'm scared, he won't go away."

Panic struck within you. Your protective instincts surged forth like a tidal wave. Fury intertwined with concern, you stepped between Mimi and the stranger, ready to defend your sister. You surveyed the situation, noticing the man's unkempt appearance and the smell of alcohol emanating from his breath. Anger burned within you, fueling your determination to protect your sister at all costs, scooping her up in your arms, gathering her things.

With your voice trembling, you returned to the living room, Mimi in your arms.

"How could you?

You spoke directly to your dad, hoping he could hear your last words to him, even in his stupor.

"How could you leave us like this, vulnerable and unprotected? You were supposed to be our role model, our support." Tears welled up in your eyes, voice cracking. "We deserve better than this."

Regret briefly flickered across his face before it was replaced by the numbing effect of alcohol. You knew that your words were being swallowed by the void of his addiction. However it didn't matter anymore, he didn't matter anymore.

You rushed downstairs, to Amin and his family, knocking on their door.

"Y/N, are you okay?" It was Amin who opened the door, his eyes widening at the sight of your tears.

"Can we stay here please?" All the emotions seemed to well up inside of you, years of suffering spillning over uncontrollably.

"Y/N..." Amin sighed. His wife appeared behind his shoulder, they both looked tired.

"Like I told your aunt when she tried to drop your sister off at our doorstep, my family and I can't put up with this no longer. What your father is doing, we want no part of it, I'm sorry."

"Wait, who was here to drop off Mimi?"

"Your aunt?" He said. You understood that he meant Mimi's aunt. She too had abandoned Mimi, without telling you.

"Fuck!" You said, sprinting downstairs.

Amin and his wife called after you but you ignored them. It was just you and Mimi now, you were on your own.

********************************************

Ruben must have been ready for bed because he did not look dressed to leave the house anytime soon.

"Y/N."

He opened the door, frowning at the sight of you with Mimi curled up in your arms.

"I...I..." You choked on your own words, your whole body trembling. "I didn't know where else to go."

He rushed you inside without hesitation, unhanding Mimi from you. To your suprise she neither fought or screamed at him, she just settled in his arms, clinging onto his neck as he carried her inside.

God what had she been through? You could only think of the worst.

"I should call my uncle." He said, returning from the guestroom where Mimi was put to sleep.

"No." You protested.

"No?" He frowned. "Y/N if I could decide I think we should call the police. The least we could do is call my uncle, he will know what to do."

"No." You repeated, rubbing the side of your head where you felt a headache coming on.

"Y/N, please. I think..."

"Ruben stop." You put a hand up, preventing him from coming to console you. It may look like you were crying but it was more so out of the trembling rage you felt within. "I'll figure this out myself, I always do."

"Y/N, you don't have to go through this yourself."

You shook your head. "You don't know anything about me."

You hated it, how he looked at you with pity in his eyes, as if you were a helpless little girl like Mimi.

"Y/N." He whispered, continuing to approach you with slow steps.

You shook your head, but it was getting hard to hold in the tears.

"Come here." He whispered and that did it for you, his gesture of stretching out his arms, welcoming you into his safe embrace.

Your forhead knocked against his chest, your arms wrapping around his large frame.

"It's gonna be okay, don't worry I'm here for you. It's gonna be okay."

Maybe it was his comforting words whispered against the top of your head, or his strong arms around your body. Maybe it was all of it, that made you perk up and surprise him by pressing your lips against his.

He flinched, his arms letting go of your body.

"Y/N?"

You stood watching him, how his eyes searched your face trying to make sense of it all.

"I'm sorry, I..." He shook his head objecting your actions. "I'm sorry we can't. You're my...I'm your...Y/N you're upset."

"I'm not, I'm angry."

"Your sister...she needs you, no?"

Despite his protests you could tell that the kiss had its effect on him.

"She's asleep."

"Y/N." He sighed. "You don't want me, you're just upset."

"How do you know?"

You stepped up to him, making his muscles clench with the closing gap between you.

"Maybe I've wanted you all along."

You thought of the fake Tinder profile, about the video you sent him last night, the video that made it hard for him to go to sleep, literally.

"I...we can't." He sighed.

"Ruben."

You were close enough to touch him now. You were touching him as he sat slumped down agsinst the armrest of the living room sofa.

You stood between his legs, your hands pressing down on his thigs.

"I should have figured that it was you." He chuckled.

"That who was me?" You bent down, forhead knocking against his.

"Christina 25." He muttered.

"You knew?"

Ruben raised his head, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Well, you told me that you found my tinder profile didn't you? I figured that you and the other girls were having a laugh about, that's something like creating a fake profile would appeal to you. Christina appeared around the time that you and I were having probles in training, no?"

"Are you upset?" You were still standing close to him, your hands on his thighs.

He shook his head. "Upset, no. Angry, a little. I could lose my job you know, for the stuff I've sent you. But somthing tells me that this is what you want?"

"No."

He chuckled, "No?"

"No."

"What do you want from me then?"

You felt his hands on your hips, slowly railing you in. Soon you stood pinned against him, his hands resting on the curve of your ass.

"Ruben I..."

You gasped when the smell of him and the feel of him all came to you at once. He had bent down to kiss your neck, the flat of his hand pushing up against your shoulder blades.

"Ruben." You cried.

He was lost. His mouth exploring the line of your jaw, moving on to lick your bottom lip.

You hands cupped his face, resisting the way he was lunging forwards, eager to have you, to taste you.

Your shirt came off as his fingers curled at the hem of it, pulling the fabric over your head.

He stood, forcing you to tilt your head up and look at him.

"Ruben."

His eyes were dark, with a glossy vail, making it impossible for you to know what he desired from you.

"Bedroom." He grunted. A hand on your shoulder ordered you in the right direction.

Closing the door behind him, Ruben gathered you in his arms, your back pressed to his front, his mouth latching onto the crook of your neck. His hand then slipped downwards, past the flat of your belly, his fingers slipping between the gap of your pants.

"Ruben please."

Your head fell back against his shoulder. He groped you blindly, grunting in your ear as you squealed whenever his fingers curled somewhere below, sliding between the wet folds between your legs.

"Ruben please!" You gasped, almost losing your footing as your legs trembled with the creeping orgasm.

"Fuck."

He kept on pleasing you until you slumped down against his chest, sighing in relief of your first orgasm. You turned around to face him, unsure what his stiff expression meant. Perhaps he was regretting where this was going. He kept up this persona until you supported yourself against him, descending to the floor to sit on your knees.

He watched your every move, his jaw clenching as you pulled down his sweats along with his underwear, his leaking erection now staring you in the face.

"Fuck." He wheezed. As your hand clenched around his stem, welcoming his dinasaur into your warm mouth.

He grunted and groaned, with the swirling your tounge did around his tip. He too struggled with his footing as your head moved vigorously, desprerate for him to feel as good as he had made you feel.

"Y/N."

He wouldn't let you finish though, his hand cupped your face to raise your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye.

He smiled down at you, his thumb stroking your cheek. You tried taking him into your mouth again,  however he really would let you.

"Ruben." Displeased, you pouted your lips.

He chuckled at this.

The smell of him warmed your insides as he knelt down beside you, bringing you to lay down on the floor. There he would go on to strip you of the rest of your clothes.

"Oh, so we're doing this here?" You chuckled, as his weight got on top of you pressed your back against the cold floor.

"I want you to feel my cock in your belly." He groaned.

You moaned, unprepared for what that actually felt like.

He heaved his body over you, placing himself between your trembling thigs. Your ass slapped against the hardwood floor as his hips thrusted against you, his dick digging deeper into you than you could've imagined.

"Fuck Ruben."

He silenced your muffled cries by putting his mouth against yours, kissing you deeply, to the point where you had to gasp for air.

"Ruben, I can't..."

His thrusts were aggressive. Increasing in pace as you tried to hold onto somthing, anything. But there were no bedsheets on the floor and so you clinged onto Ruben's shoulders, nipping at his skin with your teeth as you slipped under, letting him penitrate you to the point of his cum dripped down your inner thigh.

"I'm not upset, I'm angry." These were the only words that could describe the way Ruben fucked you that night. Like a man upset, but not angry.

Whatever that meant.

Tagslist:

@kathb59

@alexisquinnlee-bc

@husherstan

@rikirikiloml

@cinderellawithashoe

[alex51324]

Hello! I figured you were the person to ask, so: do you know where I could find more info on Edwardian gender segregation laws? Like, the maids aren't allowed on the men's corridor, but what if you are a young maid who wants to visit the chauffeur's cottage because you want to ask the chauffeur's sweetheart about being gay because you are a small lesbian? Is Peter leaving the door open good enough? Would they have to find a bench somewhere on the estate gardens? Asking for spin-off fic purposes. (Also, I am sending you good vibes and will pray for you at shul.)

Hey! So, I'm not sure about sources, because a lot of this stuff wasn't written down at the time, but I'd say you're probably fine with having her visit the cottage. (I think I've had Anna visit them there, haven't I?)

First, visiting a whole separate dwelling with plenty of Stuff That Isn't Bedrooms would be generally less suspicious than going into the Corridor That Consists Entirely of Men's Bedrooms.

A key thing to remember about Victorian-to-Edwardian mores was that it was a lot more about the appearance of impropriety than what would actually, logically, give two people an opportunity to have illicit sex. Bedrooms and darkness were to be avoided at all costs, even in a house stuffed full of people; a parlor in broad daylight has an air of innocence even if the house is otherwise empty.

Second, if it's a spinoff, it's after the war, and The War Changed Things. In terms of the upper classes, chaperonage basically disappeared, and a woman calling on a man in his home during the day isn't necessarily something you would absolutely need to make sure that there's another woman present in order to do. (Although if you made a habit of it, that would be Noticed.)

For the working classes, things were even more relaxed; at this point, thanks to changes in mores and increased employment opportunities, you get people in the employers-of-servants classes complaining about how you pretty much have to allow your maids to have "followers" (boyfriends) these days, if you don't want them quitting the job after a few weeks.

Third, it is pretty much an open secret that Thomas and Peter are Like That, so that's probably going to slide them into the same category as, say, visiting the vicar or a man old enough to be your father--it doesn't really count as Visiting A Man, in the capital-letters sense.

So yeah, if they're in the front room with the curtains open, that should be fine--although if the maid makes the mistake of trying to avoid being seen going into the cottage, that would contribute to an appearance of impropriety.

There's some wiggle room to adjust it up or down depending on what you're going for--if you want it to be totally on the up-and-up, have her invent/volunteer for some errand, in the middle of the day; if you want an air of scandal, have her do a bit of lurking in the darkness (like that time canon!Thomas did outside of Anna and Bates's place).

[beckhoffman]

THE SCANDAL WAS CONTAINED/THE BULLET HAD JUST GRAZED/AT ALL COSTS KEEP YOUR GOOD NAME/YOU DON'T GET TO TELL ME YOU FEEL BAD

{ mikey madison, 20, woman, she/her } Is that REBECCA “BECK” HOFFMAN? A SENIOR originally from NEW YORK, they decided to come to Ogden College to study DANCE. They’re THE NEPO BABY on campus, but even they could get blamed for Greer’s disappearance. 

pinterest/spotify tbd

basics:

full name: rebecca "beck" hoffman

age: 21

date of birth: september 12, 2004

zodiac sign: virgo

hometown: new york, ny

gender: cis female

sexuality: bisexual

languages spoken: english, russian

PERSONALITY:

positive qualities: self-sufficient, talented, observant

negative qualities: aloof, blunt, critical

skills: ballet, listening, reading the fine print

character parallels: michael bluth (arrested development), caroline channing meets max black (two broke girls), beth harmon (the queen's gambit), david rose (schitt's creek)

relationship to greer: unlike many others in their social class, beck was not unused to having roommates. the student housing at the ballet academy was spartan and cramped and there were generally four to an apartment. it wasn’t exactly the babysitters club - the women were intensely competitive and generally consumed with their own inadequacy. the environment wasn’t exactly conducive to friendship. and beck is embarrassed to think back to how she had hoped she might find that friendship in the dorms of ogden.  

there might have been a veneer of friendship at the start provided by a shared social circle. but beck feels greer never really warmed to her. beck’s idea of a fun night was a shared joint and an argument about sylvia plath, while greer’s involved harder drugs and less clothes. she always had the sense she had disappointed greer by not living up to her expectations. but beck was used to not meeting people’s expectations. their roommate relationship was cordial at best, violent at worst, with both girls having a penchant for silent treatments and wars of passive aggression over petty misdemeanors. by the time greer disappeared, beck was more than  ready for her to go. and yet; many would say they had never heard beck speak a harsh word of her. some twisted sense of loyalty kept beck’s mouth shut and greer’s secrets safe. 

bio: you’ve heard stories about rebecca on a late-night talk show before - gordon hoffman tells one every time he promotes that series of superhero movies he directs (you know, the ones with too much cgi and too much spandex), and mary hoffman always finds a way to bring her up when she’s on a red carpet for some prestige drama miniseries or oscar-bait period piece. the one you’ve probably heard over and over is this - when beck was young, just an infant, her parents realized on the eve of some buzzy awards show they had failed to secure a babysitter. rather than scramble, they simply brought her along and wheeled her stroller under the table for the duration of the night, where beck slept so well and so soundly that their tablemates were shocked when they pulled her out at the end of the night. ‘what a little professional’ , they all cooed. beck knew from a very early age the best way to please her parents was to stay out of the way. 

she was a perfect little professional when she came to set for a cameo on her mother’s show, a solemn six year old who had perfectly memorized her lines. she was a perfect little professional every day in ballet class, diligently stretching and without a hair out of place in her bun. she was a perfect little professional as she signed her own field trip forms and reading logs, organized her own schedule with the family chauffeur, packed her own brown-bag lunches. in fact, beck was so professional, sometimes her parents forgot she was their daughter and not someone they employed to play her. 

her parents had often thought they had the perfect family arrangement. beck was at an elite ballet school that conveniently housed and fed her, leaving them free to flit between los angeles and new york and wherever else their projects may take them. they hardly blinked when she decided to go to college instead of joining a company - beck parented herself quite capably. but after a public freakout ended up splashed across the tabloids, gordon and mary are at a loss. beck is sullen, unresponsive, and uncooperative. what do you do with a professional who isn’t performing? you fire them - so the family credit card has been cut off this year. her first discovery? apparently you have to pay for drugs. 

fun facts:

beck's family refers to her as birdie

since she was essentially raised by russian ballet teachers, she's picked up their penchant for cigarettes, head scarves, and tolstoy, as well as the language.

loves bob dylan and gothic novels

her childhood crush was kim possible

she thinks of herself as very practical and down to earth but she still has weird blind spots (she did do all her own paperwork for college but doesn't know how much a banana costs)

wanted connections:

book club: pretentious book club!! maybe with a potluck component!! (beck is a pretty decent cook)

crush: beck is at her heart a Piner and a Yearner and i would love to write some kind of friend pining plot!!

childhood friend: beck isn't one who's always had a lot of friends, but i would love some connections from childhood who would be able to see how much she's changed recently

bad influences: beck hasn't exactly been a fixture of ogden's nightlife scene, but now that she doesn't care anymore, this person is more than happy to introduce beck to the wonders of not caring.

[hahyoudontknowwhoiam-blog]

Black n Blue

A Gojo Satoru love story w. mild nsfw content ahead mdni, a love story mostly |

wc 11.7k

"My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep. The more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite." Romeo and juliet.

Brief Synopsis: Gojo Satoru, born into a life of privilege and duty as heir to a powerful Gojo clan, knew love was not in his destiny …But one girl seems to have cast a spell over his six eyes.

Torn between the expectations of his family and the magnetic pull of his growing obsession with Amara, Gojo becomes consumed by the desire to possess her body, mind, and heart…surrender to the shackles of duty or risk everything.

In a tale of passion, power, and the cost of desire, Gojo discovers that in the pursuit of love, he may lose everything that once defined him.

author's note. Written as a POC AFAB ,but it’s hardly a central point throughout the book.

Amara also is the name chosen, as it’s used across cultures and the meaning itself fits the the theme of the book Meaning:Everlasting; Grace; Immortal; To love; Bitter" (from google), but can happily be switched out for a personal POV.

Yet again hardly any smut but there a few juicy scenes…Enjoy!

It was a crisp autumn afternoon, the Tokyo skyline illuminated by the various tall buildings, the sun was beginning its slow descent over the horizon, the Sakura leaves having fallen months ago, casting a almost heavenly golden hue over the playground.

The playground, usually a place for laughter and playful shouts, was today home to something more intense. By the swings-where he found solace from the coldness of his family life, two kids were wrestling, their feet kicking, mouths hurling insults that he couldn’t quite make sense of .

The boy was larger, his body engulfing the other girls frame like a shadow. She was smaller but no less determined, it burned behind her dark eyes like the hot coals on the flame, her long black hair was pulled up into a style he’d never quite seen before, various colourful accessories adorning the wild locks, her brown skin glistened with sweat from the sheer effort she was exerting . Her face was set in a fierce concentration, eyes narrowed, full lips pressed tight with focus. Despite the size difference, she wasn't backing down.

From the polished leather seat of a sleek black Bentley, a pair of piercing blue eyes watched. They belonged to Gojo Satoru, the soul heir to the Gojo fortune, the only inheritor of both six eyes, a young man who had grown accustomed to luxury, ease, and the predictable rhythms of his world. At just twelve, his life was already a series of well-structured schedules, from functions with the elders, and various dates with prospective female suitors- to carry on the Gojo clans legacy. He'd been raised to be poised, to hold himself with an air of superiority, yet something about her made him feel inferior, made his heart pump blood, like it was the first time it was beating.

Gojo’s eyes widened, his unruly hair, as white as snow, falling slightly over his forehead as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the edge of the car window. His chauffeur, a tall man in a crisp black suit, glanced at him in the rearview mirror but said nothing.

"Stop the car," Gojo said suddenly, his voice a mix of command and awe. His breath caught as he continued to watch the girl. She had a natural grace that no wealth could buy, a blend of strength and beauty that was so different from anything he had seen in the girls arranged to be his wife, trained to be the “perfect wife” but to him they look more like obedient pets with no sense of self.

The larger boy stumbled, and the girl took advantage, using her agility to pin him to the ground. Gojo watched as her face broke into a triumphant grin, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of victory. Her expression was fierce, yet there was an undeniable charm about her, a magnetism he couldn’t explain. She wasn’t just beautiful in the conventional sense; she had a raw, unrefined allure that seemed to transcend the standards of high society.

“Who is she?” Gojo murmured, his voice soft with wonder. His eyes remained locked on the girl as she stood, brushing the dirt from her hands, her chest rising and falling with exertion.

“Sir?” the chauffeur asked, looking back at him with a puzzled expression.

“That girl,” Gojo said, his tone firm now, as if making a decision. “I’m going to marry her.”

The chauffeur blinked. He had heard many strange statements in his years of service out of the pretentious boys mouth , but this one was different. “Sir, you’re not even-”

“I don’t care,” Gojo interrupted, a gleam of resolve in his eyes. He pressed a finger to the glass of the window, his gaze unwavering. “She’s different. I’ve never seen anyone like her.”

The chauffeur, ever the professional, nodded without question, though he was no less surprised. It was rare that the young master spoke with such certainty about anything, especially when it came to people who weren’t of his circle.

Gojo’s eyes followed the girl as she walked away, mumbling something at the disgraced boy that nodded his head fearfully, her posture strong, her head held high. She seemed unaware of the world around her, lost in her own thoughts as she headed toward the gates of the playground.

“I’ll find out who she is,” Gojo muttered to himself, a quiet promise. ---

The next day, Gojo couldn’t stop thinking about the girl. He could still see her face in his mind, the way her eyes had sparkled with a fiery determination, how her thick lips curved into a smile as she won the wrestling match. He couldn’t explain it, but something in him had shifted the moment he saw her. It wasn’t just her beauty, though that was undeniable. It was her strength, her confidence, the way she moved through the world as though nothing could stop her.

As his tutors rambled about the responsibilities he faced as ‘the most powerful sorcerer of this age’, and tried to school him on fundamentals of the world, it seemed to fade away like white noise, none of it held any weight. He found himself distracted, his mind drifting to the girl from the playground.

And then, as if the universe was listening, a name surfaced: **Amara**.

Gojo wasted no time. With the help of his family’s connections, he secretly learned everything he could about her. She was the adoptive daughter of Christian missionaries , her adoptive mother was also an artist, who worked with local galleries showcasing her various techniques she picked up across cultures to paint Japan in various lights, many of the profits being used to help victims of gender based violence both domestically and internationally . Amara herself was a student at a nearby school, involved in nearly every extracurricular club, some he’d never even believed to exist, some set up by her herself. she truly was a wonder. Her parents clearly had worked hard to provide for her, her adoptive mother coming from a broken family fighting to follow her dreams despite the setbacks life threw at her and Amara, it seemed, had inherited her mother’s grit and strength.

As Gojo stood in the mirror, adjusting the belt around his silkened kimono in preparation for yet another gathering of sorcerers , he thought of her again. Amara. A girl from a world so different from his own, yet one he was certain he was meant to be a part of.

That evening, Gojo found himself walking through the same park where he had first seen her. He knew she might not be there, but he couldn't help himself. He was drawn to that place, as if it held some answer to the strange longing in his chest, but his solace was no longer a rusty set of swings, it was the girl with the fire burning beneath her dark eyes.

And then, there she was sitting alone on a bench, sketching in a notebook, her legs tucked under her, lost in her art.

Gojo approached cautiously, his heart thudding in his chest. For a moment, he just watched her, mesmerised by the way the fading light seemed to halo around her, casting her in a soft glow.

Amara looked up, sensing his presence before she saw him. Her eyes locked with his, and Gojo's breath hitched, a light flush blooming on his pale cheeks. He couldn’t explain it, but it felt as though the world had narrowed to just the two of them.

“Hi,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically shy.

She tilted her head, studying him for a moment before responding coolly, “Hi.”

“I’m Gojo,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I-uh-I saw you yesterday, at the playground. You were amazing. The way you handled yourself… I’ve never seen anyone like you.”

Amara raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth curving into a smirk. “Is that so?”

Gojo nodded, his eyes earnest. “Yes.… I think you’re the most incredible person I’ve ever seen, and despite my age… I’ve seen a lot ”, there was a long silence that he couldn’t help penetrate. “So what made you decide to beat that loser into oblivion?” he chuckled, kicking his shoes on the ground, dirtying his perfectly polished shoes, palm slick with sweat as he nervously glanced at her, awaiting a response.

Amara looked at him for a long moment, as if weighing his words. Then, simply said “I don’t like bullies, and I certainly don’t like racists”, she turned her attention back to her sketchbook, a quiet challenge in her gaze.

Not entirely understanding what she was on about Gojo earnestly replied, “Maybe I’ll see you again,” ,figuring he was not going to get much more out of the spirited girl, though his heart still raced.

She didn’t look up, but her voice carried a quiet note of amusement as she replied, “Maybe.”

Gojo smiled to himself, a toothy smile, a real smile that no one has ever seen grace his face, as he walked away, already knowing that this was just the beginning. He had seen something in her that no one else could touch, even his six eyes knew this to be true, and he was determined to find out just how deep that connection went.

“I’m going to marry that girl,” he whispered again, this time to no one but himself.

Every other day, Gojo found himself at the park. At first, it was casual, a simple desire to see her again, to catch a glimpse of that fierce determination, the quiet confidence that had captivated him from the moment their eyes met. But over time, it became more than that. The park, that bench, her. She was his obsession now.

He never approached her right away, not at first. He’d wait until he saw her sitting there, drawing or reading, with her legs crossed, her hair braided in a unique style foreign to him, a few stray set in a waved pattern (edges😂) framing her face in the soft, golden light of late afternoon. He’d watch her from a distance, hidden behind a tree or sitting on a bench on the other side of the park, pretending to be absorbed in a book or his phone, though his attention was always on her.

And every time, without fail, his heart would race. It was the same rush, the same excitement he’d felt that first day. But this time, there was a new plan in mind.

He wanted to impress her.

One afternoon, after seeing her sketching in the same spot as usual, Gojo walked up to her, trying to seem casual. He was determined to make her notice him, not just as the entitled brat he appeared as, but as someone who could make her laugh, someone who could be… different.

“Hey, Amara,” he greeted, flashing her a cheeky grin. “You know, I’ve been practicing my wrestling moves.”

She didn’t look up at first, but then the tiniest smirk tugged at her lips.

“You?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Wrestling?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I think I could take you on. Maybe we could have a rematch?” He dropped his voice in mock seriousness. “I’ll warn you, though. I’m not as easy as that last guy.”

She chuckled, glancing up from her sketchbook with a mix of amusement and skepticism. “I highly doubt that.”

But Gojo wasn’t deterred, fully aware that in combat he was far superior . He loved this, the challenge, the fact that she didn’t care about the aura of wealth and entitlement he seemed to portray, with his chauffeur always near by and his flashy kimonos and suits he adorned. Determined to follow through with the promise he made himself.

For the next few weeks, Gojo showed up at the park again and again, each time with a new attempt to capture her attention. Sometimes he’d bring a bag of candy, acting like a clueless, overly eager kid and offering her some with an exaggerated wink. Other times, he’d “accidentally” drop his phone in her path, just so he could kneel down and ask for her help always with the same goofy grin, the same eager energy.

“Here,” he said once, handing her an oversized bouquet of roses after she had rolled her eyes at him a few too many times. “I thought you might like these. Or, uh, maybe you’d prefer a cactus? I don’t know, I’m still figuring out this whole ‘romance’ thing.”

Amara stared at him, half irritated, half amused. “You’re strange, you know that?”

He shrugged, a sheepish smile on his lips. “I try.”

To his surprise, she didn’t throw the bouquet in his face or walk away in exasperation. Instead, she took them, her lips curling into a reluctant smile. “Fine. I’ll take your flowers. But only because they’re not a cactus.”

He left that day grinning like a fool. Even the smallest victory felt huge. She had accepted the roses. She had smiled.

But the more he showed up, the more he became aware of her guarded nature. At first, she barely acknowledged his gifts, tossing them aside or leaving them behind at the park. She made it clear that she didn’t need-or want- anything from him. But Gojo, with his unrelenting optimism and charm, didn’t give up. He bought her a scarf one day, a handmade one from a boutique his mother frequented. He brought her a book another time, one he thought she'd appreciate based on the scribbled titles in her sketchbook. He even took her out for ice cream once, knowing exactly what flavours she liked, his six eyes finally coming in handy, earning a raised eyebrow from her.Her not knowing if she really was predictable, or that this man paid attention to all her minute reactions.

Each time, she would look at the gift, then at him, as if weighing her options. And each time, she’d either refuse or ignore him, but Gojo never backed down.

“You really don’t have to do this, you know,” she said after he gave her a necklace one winter. “I’m not some charity case.”

“I know,” he said softly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “But I want to.”

She looked at him for a long moment, the usual guarded expression in her eyes softening just a little. “You're stubborn, you know that?”

He nodded. “I’ve been told.”

It was in moments like this, when she didn’t immediately brush him off, that Gojo knew there was a crack in her wall. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep him coming back.

---

As the years passed, Gojo’s obsession only grew. His feelings for Amara were no longer about impressing her or winning her favour. He had long since stopped seeing her as some unattainable ideal. Now, she was the centre of his world, the only thing that mattered, his future wife.

He loved the way she challenged him, how she never let him off easy, how she didn’t care about his outer appearances and perceived wealth. Her sharp wit, her fierce independence, the way she could take on anything with a calm confidence, these were the things that made him fall deeper and deeper, almost to the point of obsession.

He would wait outside her school sometimes, just to see her walk out, to catch a glimpse of her in the crowds. He’d offer her his arm on the rare occasions they went out together, both because he loved her warm touch on his skin, and to ward off any competition, but she’d always decline with a teasing smile, telling him to stop being so “pretentious.”

The whole process becoming increasingly more difficult as he entered jujitsu high, having to be more discrete with his actions so they didn’t alert higher ups, or worse Geto who would want a swift introduction. But this was his goddess, her radiance shining like the constellations, entirely out of reach, him being one of the blessed few to bask in her glory, he would not let her eyes be swayed by any man, even if Geto was his dearest friend.

Still, he continued to lavish her with gifts, expensive handbags, rare books, tickets to shows,, often sending out others to ‘suitors’ to deflect the eyes of the elders to his true intentions, but finally after years of rejecting or accepting reluctantly, she began to take them with less resistance. Perhaps it was his persistence, or maybe, just maybe, she had begun to see him in a different light. Not the spoiled kid he’d once been, but a young man who had never given up on her, who had always stayed true to his odd, goofy self despite her resistance.

One afternoon, when Gojo showed up with a painting of a place they had once talked about visiting together, she didn't even raise an eyebrow. Instead, she took it from him with a gentle smile.

“You’re a hopeless romantic, aren’t you?” she said, her voice soft.

“I suppose so,” he replied with a grin. “I’m not ashamed of it.”

She studied him for a long moment, the years between them suddenly seeming to close in an instant. “You know, Gojo,” she said slowly, “you’re not as bad as I thought.”

“Is that a compliment?” he asked, his heart thumping.

She hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Yeah. I think it is.”

He couldn’t contain his smile, though it was more of a relieved grin than anything else. For the first time in years, Gojo felt as if he was finally seeing some daylight between them. The girl he had been obsessed with for so long, the girl he had chased with his gifts, his goofy charm, his relentless persistence was finally seeing him for who he truly was.

And for once, Gojo felt like he had finally won.

The next week was his birthday, a day he was content basking in the presence of his one and only obsession. He approached her with the same goofy smile he has for years, but before he could utter a single word she beat him to to it. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, I know it’s your birthday, you wouldn’t stop reminding me.” She giggled “And it feels silly, but I’ve never given you anything. Not really.”

“What is it?” He asked, curiosity rising in he is chest.

Her soft hand grazed mine, “Close your eyes” she giggled in that sweet voice of hers.

Knowing I’d do anything for her I listened, like a pet ready to jump for its master, then I felt it. Her lips were soft and quick, a gentle brush against mine that made my heart stop and my whole body go numb. I sat frozen, barely processing what had just happened, while she pulled away with that mischievous grin of hers. “There,” she said, as if it was nothing. “Enjoy Romeo. happy birthday!” She giggled, standing to walk away, leaving me sitting there, utterly speechless and blushing, cheeks flushed as if I had burst into flames. My mind raced, trying to make sense of it, but all I could focus on was the warmth of her kiss lingering on my lips and how, for a moment, it felt like maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t invisible to her after all.

And the same words I thought of all those years ago flashed in my mind. “I’m going to marry this girl” as I stood up to chase her.

---

It wasn’t until a few years later, when Gojo was 19 and Amara was 18, that she confessed.

They were sitting together in the same park where it all began. The bench where she’d first noticed him. The same place where Gojo had once declared he was going to marry her, the same place she had kissed him.

“I’m falling for you, you know,” Amara said quietly, her voice almost shy. It was strange to hear it after all this time of playing hard to get, of deflecting his attempts to win her over.

Gojo’s heart skipped a beat. “You’re… really?”

She looked at him, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Yeah, you’re kind of impossible to resist after all these years, even with your sweet tooth and downright insufferable humour .”

“I told you I wasn’t going anywhere,” he chuckled , his voice barely more than a whisper.

“I know,” she replied, the smile growing as she reached for his hand. “And I guess I’ve been waiting for you to stop trying so hard… just to be yourself.”

Gojo leaned in closer, his heart full, not just with love, but with the knowledge that, for once, something in his life had gone exactly the way he wanted.

And in that moment, it didn’t matter how much he had changed over the years, how persistent or goofy he’d been. He had finally won her heart, and that was all that mattered.

---

They were silent, content just to be in each other's presence, the quiet comfort of being together speaking volumes more than words could. The evening air was starting to cool, the kind that felt refreshing after a warm day. Gojo and Amara sat on the same park bench where it had all started, just a short time ago. The sky was painted in soft shades of purple and pink as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a gentle glow over the park.

Gojo turned to her, his eyes reflecting the fading light as he studied her face. There was a softness in her expression, something vulnerable, but beautiful in its honesty. He reached for her hand, gently pulling it to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles.

“Amara,” he said, his voice low and filled with warmth, “you know, I’ve spent so many years trying to win your heart, to make you see me for who I really am… and now that you’re here, beside me, I don’t want to waste a single moment.”

Amara smiled softly, her heart fluttering at the sincerity in his voice. Her fingers tightened around his, the connection between them deepening.

“I’m here, Gojo,” she said, her voice full of quiet affection. “And I’ve always known who you are. All of you.”

He leaned in slowly, his breath mingling with hers. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered, “wanted to do this properly”

And then, as if the world had narrowed to just the two of them, their lips met, soft at first, a slow exploration of all the years of longing, the years of teasing, the years of waiting. But soon, it deepened, both of them losing themselves in the kiss. Gojo’s hand found the back of Amara’s neck, pulling her closer as she responded with equal fervour. The world seemed to fall away, leaving only the rhythm of their hearts and the warmth of their bodies pressing together.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless, Amara’s eyes were bright with the same emotions he was feeling. She smiled,”that was definitely much better than our first” then her fingers gently brushed his cheek. “I think you finally got through to me, Gojo,” she whispered. “I’m yours.”

The following month, on Amara’s birthday, Gojo had planned a day for her, one that was deeply personal, carefully curated with all the things she loved. They spent the month prior basking in each others love sharing passionate kisses that spoke promises of the future. And from the moment he picked her up in the morning, he was determined to make it a day she would never forget.

First, they stopped at her favourite bakery, where Gojo had arranged for a special cake, a light, layered masterpiece of chocolate and fresh berries, just for her. He smiled as he watched her eyes light up, the joy on her face making everything feel worth it.

After a leisurely breakfast, they made their way to the art gallery Amara had always dreamed of visiting. It was a small, intimate space in the city, known for showcasing emerging artists. Amara’s eyes sparkled as she stepped inside, breathing in the scent of fresh paint and canvas. She couldn’t help but admire the work on the walls, and Gojo, always so attentive to her every need, was content to just watch her.

He didn’t say much. He didn’t have to. Watching her immerse herself in the art, seeing the way she was drawn to pieces that spoke to her soul, made him realise just how much he had learned about her over the years. He’d paid attention to the small details the artists she admired, the colours she loved, the moments she shared with him about her own creative passions.

After their stroll through the gallery, Gojo led Amara to a secluded corner of the city park, the very spot they had talked about visiting together one day. It was quiet here, with only the sound of the leaves rustling in the breeze and the distant hum of the city. There was a bench, but this time, they chose the soft, grass-covered hill nearby, where they could see the sky stretching wide above them.

“I can’t believe this is real,” Amara murmured, her voice soft. “How did we get here, Gojo? From all the teasing, to this?”

Gojo chuckled quietly, his lips brushing the top of her head. “I think it’s all been part of the journey. Every moment led us here. And now… we’re here.”

Amara smiled, closing her eyes, feeling the warmth of him beside her. She had waited for so long to feel this way, to be seen, to be loved for exactly who she was. And now, with Gojo beside her, it felt like everything was falling into place.

“I’m happy,” she said, her voice full of contentment. “Happy to be here with you.”

He kissed her forehead, his voice thick with emotion. “Me too, Amara. More than I can say.”

The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting its golden warmth over the park. Gojo and Amara lay side by side, their fingers intertwined, the soft rustle of the wind through the trees the only sound that broke the tranquility. The world felt miles away in this moment, as if they were the only two people left in it. Amara's head rested on Gojo's chest, her breath steady and calm. She had always loved the feeling of being close to him, of existing in the quiet spaces between words.

"You know," Gojo said, his voice low and playful, "I think I’ve got one more surprise for you today."

Amara smiled, her eyes still closed as she tilted her head slightly to listen. "Another one? After all the surprises already?"

Gojo chuckled, the sound vibrating in his chest. "I promise, this one’s worth it."

He gently squeezed her hand and pointed toward a distant window on a building across the park. The window was bathed in a soft, almost ethereal blue light, as though it were holding some secret just for her. “That’s where your final birthday gift is," he said, his words laced with anticipation.

Amara raised her head, squinting toward the window. “That’s... odd,” she mused. “What’s in there, hopefully not a wrestling ring?”she giggled

“It’s a surprise,” Gojo replied with a wink. “But I think you’ll love it.”

Amara sat up, brushing the grass off her clothes. Gojo helped her to her feet, and together, they started walking toward the building. Gojo kept his pace slow and steady, clearly enjoying the moment, enjoying the way Amara’s laughter filled the space between them. Every so often, he would do something, twist her around in a playful spin, make a silly face, that made her giggle, and he basked in it. He adored that sound, the sound that told him he was doing something right.

As they neared the building, Gojo led her up a flight of stairs, and Amara noticed the small touches: balloons, tacky and blue like his eyes that she had fallen so in love with, scattered across the landing. They were nothing like the surprises she had imagined, but there was something undeniably endearing about them.

“Are you sure this is it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at the balloons. "Are we really going in here?"

Gojo nodded, his grin widening. “Trust me.”

He unlocked the door and gently pushed it open, revealing a room bathed in that same soft, blue light. It felt as though the air itself was infused with warmth and possibility. The walls were adorned with paintings, paintings she’d talked about for years. Scenes of sunsets, abstract swirls of colour, portraits of people she admired. Each one a reflection of her dreams, her passions, her creativity. Amara’s breath caught in her throat as she took it all in.

“Gojo… how did you-?” She couldn’t find the words. This wasn’t just any apartment. It was a space that spoke of her, of everything she had ever wanted, of everything she had shared with him in those quiet moments when she let her heart spill open.

“I listened,” Gojo said simply, his voice warm, full of love. “All these years, I’ve listened to you talk about what you want, what you need, and I wanted to give it to you.”

The room was hers, her own sanctuary, her own canvas. There were art supplies everywhere, brushes and paints, sketchpads and easels. Every detail had been chosen with care, every corner carefully curated to reflect her spirit. The blue balloons, though a bit out of place, added a lighthearted touch, a contrast to the depth of everything else.

Amara turned to him, her eyes wide, her lips trembling as she fought to hold back the tears. “You did all this… for me?”

Gojo nodded, his eyes shining with a quiet joy. “For you. Because I love you.”

He stepped forward and gently took her hand, leading her into the heart of the room. He showed her the windows, the view of the park where they had first met, and how the light played in the space at different times of day. He walked her to the corner where an easel was set up, a canvas blank and waiting. “I want you to fill this space,” he said. “Whatever you create, whatever you dream, it’s yours. I just want you to be free here.”

Amara’s heart swelled with emotion. “But this isn’t just a space… it’s… it’s everything.”

He smiled softly, leading her toward the bedroom door, a small, unspoken invitation in his gaze. "There's one more thing," he murmured, his voice tender.

Amara followed him, her heart racing. As the door opened, the room was even more intimate than the rest of the apartment, soft lighting, a large bed covered in linens she had always dreamed of. The walls were decorated with sketches she had shown him in passing, pieces of her soul captured in charcoal and ink.

“Gojo, this... it’s too much,” she whispered, overwhelmed by the depth of his love.

“It’s not too much,” he said gently, pulling her close. “It’s exactly what you deserve.”

And in that moment, with the world outside forgotten, they stood together in the quiet of the room, surrounded by all the things that meant something to her, all the things that meant something to them. He had listened to her every dream, every wish, and he had brought them to life.

And as Amara finally let herself cry, not from sadness, but from the purest form of gratitude and love, she knew that this, this was home. Not just the apartment, not just the blue light, but the way Gojo had made her feel seen, heard, and cherished in ways she hadn’t even realised she needed.

He had given her more than a gift. He had given her a place to be herself, to create, to grow, and most importantly, to be loved. And she knew then, that this man possessed her heart.

With her in his arms, Gojo's obsession with Amara had reached a boiling point, and tonight, he was determined to make her his. Her dark, sultry beauty had ensnared his heart and mind, and now, he yearned to possess every inch of her being. As he stood in the dimly lit bedroom, his hypnotic blue eyes fixed on her. He could see beyond the physical realm, delving into the depths of her soul, laying her bare before him.

Amara, felt a tingle run down her spine as Gojo's intense gaze traveled over her body. She was a vision of voluptuous perfection, her features becoming more beautiful over the years he pined for her, her curvy figure accentuated by her smooth, dark skin. Her full breasts rose and fell with each breath, she looked up to him in a way she never had before and sauntered her way towards the bed, her seductive hips swaying with each step.

Gojo's heart raced, his desire for her becoming almost painful. With slow, deliberate movements, he approached her, his eyes never leaving her face. "You are exquisite, my Amara," he whispered, his voice deep and raspy with want. "Tonight, I intend to worship every inch of you."

A shiver ran through Amara's body at his words, a mixture of excitement and nervousness. She had felt Gojo's gaze on her for weeks, sensing his desire, but tonight, something felt different. There was an intensity in his eyes that made her feel both vulnerable and incredibly powerful.

Gojo reached out, his pale, strong fingers gently brushing against her cheek. "May I?"he asked, his voice hoarse with need, the same nervousness that he felt on that bench they first met thrummed through him. Amara nodded, her breath catching in her throat as his hand moved to the back of her neck, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin there.

With a gentle touch, he guided her towards the bed, his eyes never wavering from hers. As they reached the edge of the mattress, Gojo's hand slid down, tracing the curve of her shoulder, making her tremble. His touch was electric, sending sparks of pleasure through her body.

"Lie down, my love," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "Let me undress you, body and soul."

Amara complied, her heart pounding as she felt the soft sheets beneath her. Gojo's fingers worked at the buttons of her satin blouse ,with each he revealed more of her creamy skin, his eyes feasting on the sight. The top slid off her shoulders, baring her ample cleavage, and Gojo's breath caught in his throat.

"So beautiful," he whispered, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the swell of her breast. Amara arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips as his lips trailed kisses along the curve of her neck, down to the sensitive hollow of her throat. His hands roamed freely now, exploring her body with reverence. He cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over her hardening nipples, eliciting a gasp from her. Purring sweet praises into her ears his voice thick with desire.

Amara could only nod, her eyes fluttering shut as his mouth claimed one taut peak, suckling gently. His free hand slid down her body, fingers teasing the waistband of her skirt. With a swift motion, he lifted her hips, sliding the skirt down her thighs, revealing her lacy black panties.

Gojo's eyes darkened at the sight of her barely covered sex. He inhaled her scent, a heady mix of desire and arousal. Growing intoxicated by her very being. "Let me taste you." He groaned, words forced out in laboured pants. Amara looked deep into his eyes as if giving him permission to do anything with her body.

With that, he hooked his fingers under the elastic of her panties and slowly slid them down her legs, his eyes never leaving her glistening core. Amara's breath came in short gasps as he exposed her completely, her dark curls glistening with her arousal.

Kneeling between her thighs, Gojo leaned forward, his breath tickling her sensitive skin. "So beautiful," he whispered, his warm breath fanning the wetness between her thighs. "I want to taste every part of you." His tongue darted out, tracing the slit of her sex, making her jerk against him. Amara's hands clutched at the sheets, her body arching as he laved her with long, slow strokes of his tongue. He explored her intimately, his mouth suckling her most delicate parts, his long fingers delving into her wetness, seeking out her most sensitive spots. He was determined to know her body the same way he knew her.

Amara cried out, her voice hoarse with pleasure. Her hips bucked against his mouth, seeking more of his delicious torment. He held her thighs firmly, his tongue delving deeper, his fingers working in perfect rhythm.

As Amara's pleasure built, Gojo's own desire threatened to consume him. He wanted to be inside her, to feel her tight heat surrounding him. Be consumed by the fires of the girl he sought to marry. His tongue flicked and teased, his fingers stroking her in a relentless rhythm.

"Come for me, my love," he urged, his voice thick with need. "Let me feel your sweet release."

Amara's body tightened, his words controlling her body like a conductor, she hovered on the edge of ecstasy, inching towards oblivion . Gojo's mouth and fingers worked in unison, driving her higher and higher until, with a cry, she shattered around him, her body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through her.

Gojo held her through the storm of her climax, his mouth never leaving her sensitive flesh. He savoured her taste, her essence, as her body quivered and relaxed beneath him. Slowly, he withdrew, his eyes dark with passion as he gazed down at her.

"You are mine, Amara," he growled, his voice filled with possession. "Body and soul."

Amara, still breathless from her orgasm, looked up at him, her eyes hazy with desire. "Yes, Gojo," she whispered, "I'm yours."

With that, he positioned himself at her entrance, his thick length throbbing with need. He pushed forward, slowly invading her wet heat, groaning at the tightness that enveloped him. Amara gasped, her eyes widening as she felt his size filling her completely.

He whined pitifully , his hands gripping hers as he began to move, withdrawing almost entirely before slowly bullying his length back into her. Whispering words of praise, breath shaky as he succumbed to the pleasure he knew that only Amara could bring. the woman who had captured his heart many years ago.

Amara cried out, her body adjusting to his invasion. Gojo's pace was relentless, his hips snapping forward, driving into her again and again. His breath was hot against her neck, his lips trailing kisses and bites along her collarbone."You feel so good, Amara," he panted, his voice thick with pleasure.

She sang out in response, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as he pounded into her. His thrusts were deep and powerful, hitting all the right spots, sending sparks of pleasure through her sated body.

He claimed her with each thrust, his words echoing in her mind, declaring his ownership. "You're mine, every inch of you," he whispered , his hips snapping forward, his balls slapping against her.

Amara's breath came in short, sharp pants, her body flushed and glistening with sweat. Crying out the words he always aimed to hear. "I'm yours, only yours."

As her words spurred him on, Gojo's control slipped further. His thrusts became wilder, his need to possess her utterly consuming him. He wanted to brand her soul with his pleasure, to leave her marked by their passion."Cum for me again, my love," he almost begged, gliding his thick length into her. "Cum with me deep inside you."

Amara's body tightened around him, her muscles clenching as she soared towards another climax. Gojo's name was a chant on her lips as she shattered, body convulsing in pleasure. He held himself deep within her, his own orgasm building to an unbearable peak. With a final, powerful thrust, he unleashed his release, filling her with his hot essence, his body trembling as he surrendered to the ecstasy.

In the aftermath of their passionate union, Gojo collapsed onto the bed beside Amara, his chest heaving as he fought to regain his breath. He pulled her close, her dark skin contrasting against his pale body, and kissed her deeply, “Happy birthday, Juliet" he murmured against her lips, his hands stroking her hair. "I've never felt this way before."

Amara giggled, her eyes sparkling with memories of past days. "You're pretty incredible my Romeo," she replied, her voice soft and lighthearted.

As they lay entangled in each other's arms, their hearts still racing, Gojo knew one thing for sure: no matter what the future held, he and Amara had found something real, something lasting. And that was all that mattered.

—-

Months passed, and Gojo and Amara were woven into the fabric of each other’s lives. It felt as though they had stepped into a world all their own, a world where their love burned bright, constant, and unyielding, a life free from the shackles of the world he was born into. They spent their days wrapped in the warmth of each other's company, indulging in the things they had always dreamed of. Every moment felt like a gift, and together, they filled their time with the kind of joy that only comes when two souls are perfectly in tune.

Amara had become his teacher in ways Gojo hadn’t expected. She taught him how to paint, not just with brushes, but with heart. She’d guide his hands, coaxing out the layers of creativity he never knew existed inside him. At first, Gojo had been stiff, unsure of how to express himself on the canvas, but with each stroke, with each colour, Amara showed him how to let go of the world outside. He learned to see beauty in the smallest moments, to trust the art that flowed through him. And as he painted, he felt more human than he had in years, alive in a way that only came from being seen and understood.

Her laughter filled the apartment, the sound of it threading through the air like a melody that Gojo had longed for but never realised he needed. Amara made him feel light, not weighed down by the expectations of a world that had often felt heavy and unforgiving, that had caused him to lose everyone he’s ever cared about, not weighed down by the expectations of the clans.

And he adored her for it, for the way she brought him out of the shadows of his own self-doubt, the way she helped him feel free.

They would spend long, lazy evenings talking about their childhoods. Amara’s days ignoring his endless attempts to capture her heart, hours spent doing the most ludicrous things to see a smile grace her lips, dreaming of the day he could call her his wife. They would laugh at the stories of their awkward teenage years, the cringeworthy moments they shared in their youth. Conversations often end with one of them pulling the other into a lingering kiss, and falling into the bed were the passions were laid bare, slick skin and heavy breaths, whispers of devotion as they laid claim over each others bodies.

But still he faced the pressures of his responsibilities as the head of the Gojo clan, juggling between living the life he was forced to live, and the one that called to his heart, a life he wouldn’t dare reveal to her out of fear for her safety. But for now, he held Amara close, breathing in the scent of her hair, the warmth of her body pressed against his. Here he had found his peace, here he had found home.

Until the day in the confines of the Gojo residence, the day Gojo received the letter, the day that would change the whole trajectory of his life.

He’d been sitting in his room, the usual tranquility of his life disturbed only by the soft sound of birds chirping outside, when a heavy envelope arrived. His family’s crest was stamped on the wax seal. Gojo had long known the weight those letters carried, but nothing in his life had prepared him for what lay inside.

The letter was an ultimatum, though it felt more like a sentence.

“Gojo Satoru, Heir to the Gojo clan

It is time for you to fulfil your responsibilities. As you know, the family name must be protected, and the time has come for you to marry the woman we have chosen for you.

Her family is one of great standing, she comes from a long line of powerful sorcerers and this alliance is in your best interest. You are to meet her as soon as possible to formalise the engagement. We expect you to comply without delay.

Yours in duty, Gojo clan, Zen-in clan, Kamo Clan.”

The words blurred in front of his eyes. Gojo felt as if the room was spinning. He dropped the letter onto the floor, unable to comprehend what he had just read.

This couldn’t be happening. Not now, not when he had finally found something real. Not when he had finally found someone who made him feel like he could be himself, someone who had come into his life and seen him for who he truly was, not just as a name or a sorcerer.

And yet, the elders and his father’s command echoed through his mind with terrifying clarity. This wasn’t a request. This wasn’t even a suggestion. It was an order.

Gojo’s chest tightened. He felt a boiling rage rise up from the pit of his stomach, a fury that he could no longer contain. He stood up from his desk, his fists clenching at his sides. He marched out of his room, the walls of his family’s compound towering above him as if they were closing in. The Elders had controlled his life for so long. First, it had been his schooling, then his life missions, and now this. An arranged marriage.

To a stranger.

How could his father expect him to just comply with this? Go along with the elders wishes? How could anyone demand such a thing?

His thoughts spiralled, and with every passing moment, his anger grew, gnawing at him, pushing him to the brink of breaking. He stormed into the grand family room, where his mother and father were seated, their voices cool and composed as always.

But Gojo wasn’t composed. He was a hurricane, a storm of frustration and hurt.

“You can’t do this!” he shouted, his voice breaking with the weight of his emotions. “I won’t do it! I won’t marry her!”

His father’s cold, calculating gaze flickered toward him. “Gojo,” his father began, his tone firm but dismissive, “you will do as you are told. This is not a decision up for discussion.”

“I don’t care!” Gojo’s voice was raw now, the room soon seeming to vibrate with the intensity of his emotions and the cursed energy that bled into it, and before he knew it, he was hurling a vase across the room. It shattered against the wall, the sound of delicate Japanese porcelain crashing to the floor echoing through the house.

His mother gasped, but Gojo was beyond caring. He grabbed a nearby chair and smashed it against the floor, his hands trembling with a mixture of rage and helplessness. “I don’t want this life! I don’t want any of it!” he screamed, his words a raw, jagged sound.

He turned to his father, his eyes blazing with fury. “Do you hear me? I am not some pawn in your game! I won’t be forced into this!”

But his father remained unmoved, his voice still calm, though with an edge of finality. “This is not about you, Gojo. It is about our family’s legacy, our name. You will do your duty.”

A silence fell between them, thick and suffocating. Gojo’s heart pounded in his chest as he realised the truth he’d always known deep down. He had no control over his own life. He was still bound by the invisible chains of his family’s expectations, expectations of the clans.

And so, he stormed out of the room, his mind reeling, his heart torn in two.

---

For the next few days, Gojo barely slept, his only reprise the fleeting moments he spent with Amara, lies of being consumed with work spilling through his teeth like poison. He couldn’t eat. His thoughts were consumed by the impossible choice he now faced: a life with Amara, the only person who had ever truly understood him, or a life in the gilded cage the elders had built for him.

But despite the turmoil inside him, Gojo made a choice. He couldn’t tell Amara. Not yet.

He loved her too much to burden her with this. She had always been free, so strong, so independent, and Gojo knew she would never accept a life where he wasn’t free to choose her. No matter how much it hurt him to lie to her, in a way much different to hiding his true identity , he couldn’t risk losing her.

And so, Gojo kept his secret. Every day, he put on the mask of the carefree, goofy young man she had come to love, the one who would make her laugh and spoil her with gifts, who would share tender kisses and dream of a future where nothing mattered except the two of them.

---

Days turned into weeks, and despite the gnawing pain that ate away at his soul, Gojo remained steadfast in his devotion to Amara. He continued to surprise her with flowers, handpicked books, and her favourite chocolate. He would plan little adventures, taking her to art shows, cooking her favourite meals, or simply staying in and watching movies, just the two of them.

Amara was everything to him. She had always been his escape, his solace in a world that expected so much from him. He would lie to her face, tell her that everything was fine, all while his heart shattered inside. But he couldn’t let her see the truth, not when they were so happy, so in love.

He would hold her hand, kiss her forehead, and pretend like he wasn’t being torn apart inside. Caress her soft skin as he eased his length into her at night, whispers of love echoing around the room. But the more he lied, the more it ate at him. The guilt gnawed at his insides, making it harder and harder to be the man he wanted to be for her.

Amara, for her part, was oblivious to the turmoil swirling beneath his smile. She saw the love in his eyes, the way he would do anything just to make her smile. She adored him, his silly antics, his sweet gestures, the way he made her feel cherished in every moment. The way his hypnotic eyes would stare into her sole as he worshiped her body at night, entranced by the sheer passion behind them.

One evening, after a particularly beautiful dinner he’d cooked for her, they sat together on the couch, her head resting on his chest as they watched the stars through the window.

“Gojo,” she murmured, her voice soft, “you always know how to make me feel so special. I’m so lucky to have you.”

Gojo’s heart squeezed at the words. He kissed her forehead, his voice tight, fighting to keep his emotions in check. “No, Amara. I’m the lucky one.”

But deep down, he knew he wasn’t. He wasn’t lucky at all. Not anymore.

---

As the days wore on, Gojo’s obsession with making Amara smile grew. He would buy her more extravagant gifts, write her notes, and shower her with affection. But each time he did, the lie in his heart became heavier. The more he gave her, the more he felt the weight of the truth pressing down on him.

One evening, as they were sharing a quiet moment at the park, Amara turned to him with a soft smile. “I love the way you make me feel, Gojo,” she said, her voice full of affection. “It’s like I can’t help but be happy when I’m with you.”

Gojo’s smile faltered for just a moment. “I’m glad,” he said softly, but the words felt hollow in his mouth.

And in that moment, as he looked into her eyes, eyes full of love, trust, and happiness, he realised just how much he was willing to sacrifice for her.

His heart ached as he thought about the arranged marriage. The life he was supposed to lead, the life the clans had planned for him. But every time he looked at Amara, he knew one thing for sure: he couldn’t live without her.

But the secret he was keeping, the one he had promised himself would stay buried, was beginning to suffocate him.

As the weeks passed, the lies started to feel less like a heavy burden and more like a part of his new routine. The days bled into one another, easy, joyful, filled with the kind of laughter that made Gojo feel like a different person. A *better* person.

Amara was his refuge. Every time he looked at her, every time they shared a joke, or held hands, or kissed in the soft, moonlit glow of her apartment, it felt like the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders, if only for a moment. She was his joy, his escape from the rigid constraints of his family’s demands.

They spent hours together, cooking dinner for each other, more often than not, it was Amara leading the way in the kitchen, her laughter filling the air as Gojo played the fool, pretending to be a terrible chef by purposefully making a mess. He’d throw flour everywhere and pretend to "accidentally" burn things, making her laugh until her cheeks hurt. In return, she’d teach him how to make her favourite dishes, and they’d share them, talking about everything and nothing at all.

And at night he would lay her down on the bed they shared, only when his long cock is buried into her that he feels whole again, groans of sweet praises and words of affection sending thrums of pleasure through her, their tongues mirroring the rhythm of their bodies.

Gojo drawing her in with a magnetic pull that neither could resist, lips brushing against her ear, raw passion consuming them, and when her mouth falls over his length, he loses himself completely to the pleasure she gives him, becoming a whining mess under her slick tongue. Shocks of electricity corse through her as soft hands brushed her face and thumbed at her lips.

Symphonic moans, testaments to their pleasure. Hands grasped at shoulders, fingers sinking into flesh, a harmonious accumulation of their love that even her art couldn't express. Their love melting into a crescendo of pleasurable cries as they unleash their souls into one another.

And as they lay there, their bodies entangled, only then Gojo's thoughts turn away from the stresses of his family responsibilities. In Amara's arms, he found an escape, a refuge where he could immerse himself in love and pleasurable bliss and forget about the harsh reality of his existence, if only for a short while.

Amara loved his authenticity, the way he never tried to be anyone other than who he was. Gojo never put on airs with her. He was goofy, self-deprecating, and wholly himself, like a breath of fresh air she had always longed for. She saw him not as a sole heir to the Gojo clan or a wealthy man, but as the man who could make her laugh on a bad day, who could calm her when she was restless, and whose hands, whenever they touched hers, made her feel like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

And Gojo? He was falling harder every single day.

They were inseparable, caught in a whirlwind of love that only seemed to grow more intense with each passing moment. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other, sometimes in the middle of a joke, Gojo would pull her into his arms and kiss her deeply, stealing her breath away. Other times, they’d lie side by side on her couch, their fingers entwined, their hearts beating in perfect rhythm as they whispered secrets and dreams to each other.

---

But despite the joy he found in Amara’s arms, Gojo’s reality still lurked just outside the bubble they had created. Every few days, there would be a knock at the door of his family’s mansion, a letter or a phone call reminding him of his duty, reminding him that his life wasn’t his own, no matter how free he felt with Amara.

The arranged dates were the worst. Each time, Gojo would put on a mask, a mask of politeness, of indifference. He would sit across from a woman he had never met, forced to talk about things that mattered so little to him, all while his mind raced back to Amara.

How could he sit there, pretending to be interested in someone else, when he knew he was already in love? When he could still feel the warmth of Amara’s skin against his, the taste of her lips fresh on his mouth?

But what else could he do? The future his father had planned for him was an inescapable web. He would attend the meetings, go through the motions, and when it was all over, he would return to Amara’s side, where he could forget about the life he was supposed to live.

He never told her about the dates. He couldn’t. Not when it would hurt her. Not when everything they had felt so perfect, so real. Instead, he’d smile and make her laugh, giving her all of his attention the moment he returned to her.

But as time went on, the guilt began to creep in, slipping through the cracks of his carefully constructed happiness. Each time he returned home from one of the arranged meetings, dinner with a stranger, exchanging polite words with a woman who was nothing more than a pawn in a game of family alliances, he felt the weight of the lie pressing down on him.

The guilt gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside. Amara never asked about his family’s business, and Gojo never volunteered the information. He simply let the days flow as they were, one beautiful, blissful day after another. He never mentioned the awkward silences of those arranged meetings, or how, every time he was forced to sit across from someone he could never care about, he would count down the minutes until he could escape back to the one place he felt free, back to Amara.

Where he drowned himself in the pleasures between her thighs, drowning in the nectar of her sweet essence. Content, in letting her breathe moans into his ears as he devoted his entire self into pleasing the woman that had gave his life meaning.

It was easier to pretend. Easier to act like nothing had changed. Every time he kissed her, he could forget. Every time she smiled at him, it was like the weight of the world lifted for just a few precious seconds.

But every day, the lie was eating at him. Gojo could feel it in his gut, the gnawing sensation that he was betraying the one person who trusted him with everything.

---

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and they sat together on her balcony, Amara leaned against him, her eyes closed in contentment. Gojo felt a pang in his chest as he looked down at her, her face peaceful, unaware of the storm raging inside him.

“Gojo,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper, “I’ve never felt so happy. You make me feel like I’m the only one in the world that matters.”

His heart twisted painfully. He kissed the top of her head, his throat tight. “You are the only one that matters,” he murmured, though the words felt like a lie in the pit of his stomach.

She looked up at him, her eyes full of love, her gaze so trusting that it made his heart ache.

“Promise me, Gojo,” she said, her voice almost too soft, “that nothing will ever come between us. No matter what happens, we’ll always have this.”

The words hung in the air like a fragile thread, binding them together in a moment of pure connection. Gojo wanted to scream, to tell her everything, to confess the weight of the lies he had been carrying for so long. But he couldn’t bring himself to shatter the delicate bubble of happiness they had created.

“I promise,” he said quietly, though the words felt empty. He promised to stay, to love her with everything he had, but deep down, he knew he couldn’t keep that promise forever. He knew there would come a day when his family’s decisions would collide with the life he had built with her, and there would be no way to hide the truth anymore.

But for now, he would let himself be lost in her arms, in her smile, in the warmth of their shared moments. He would keep lying to himself and to her, pretending everything was fine.

Because when she kissed him, when she laughed at his goofy jokes, when she simply existed beside him, everything felt perfect, even if it was all built on a lie.

---

The days continued to pass, and Gojo remained trapped in his double life. But in the moments when Amara’s eyes met his, when they held hands or shared a quiet, intimate kiss, he allowed himself to forget. At least for a while, he could pretend that he wasn’t a pawn in a game he didn’t choose.

At least for now, he could be the man she loved, and the man he wished he could be.

Amara stood at the gates of Gojo's estate, his shared location beaming on the screen of her phone, her heart light with excitement. The gift in her hands felt like something special, a small token of her love for him. She had been thinking about him all day, the warmth of his smile, the way he made her feel like she was the only person in the world. She was eager to return the watch he'd left at her apartment, to see him again, and maybe even share a quiet moment together. As she approached the gate, the butler looked her over with a cold, disinterested gaze.

“May I ask who you are?” he inquired, his tone formal.

Amara’s heart fluttered in surprise. “I’m Amara,” she replied, confused. “Gojo’s girlfriend.” She laughed lightly, unsure why that would need to be clarified.

The butler’s face remained impassive. “The young master is with his fiancée,” he sneered, barely disguising the contempt in his voice. “You’re unworthy of him.”

The words hit her like a cold slap, and her breath caught in her throat. She stood there, frozen, momentarily unsure of how to respond. Her hands shook slightly as she placed the watch and the wrapped gift in his hands. “Please... pass this along to him once he’s done,” she said softly, fighting to keep her voice steady.

The butler said nothing, but his icy demeanour spoke volumes. She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat, and turned to leave, her steps heavy with the weight of his words. She felt like she had just been dismissed, like the love she had for Gojo had somehow been reduced to something insignificant.

Amara forced herself not to cry, keeping her composure as she walked away from the estate, her heart breaking with each step. The world around her seemed to blur, the brightness of the day dimming as the sadness closed in. She refused to break down in front of anyone, not yet. But as soon as she reached her apartment and shut the door behind her, all her strength unraveled.

Tears streamed down her face as she sank to the floor, her sobs raw and desperate. Her chest felt tight, as if her heart was splintering into pieces. The words of the butler echoed in her mind: “unworthy of him.” She screamed, a sound of frustration and pain, but it did nothing to ease the ache inside her. How had she been so wrong? How had she not seen the signs? She had given everything to Gojo, believed in him so deeply, only to find that he was already spoken for.

In the midst of her grief, she gathered herself together, wiping her tears with shaky hands. She packed her things, each item she placed into her bag feeling like a weight she couldn’t carry anymore. She moved through her apartment mechanically, still numb from the pain. When she finished, she grabbed a pen and quickly wrote a note to Gojo:

“I guess I was never enough for you. Goodbye.”

With one last look around, she left her apartment, leaving the note behind as a final farewell.

As she stepped out into the night, her heart felt as empty as the room she left behind.

The evening dragged on painfully for Gojo. His fiancee , a well-mannered woman with an air of sophistication, seemed to have little in common with him beyond formal pleasantries. His thoughts, however, were elsewhere, with Amara. He couldn’t stop thinking about her laughter, her warmth, the way she made him feel like he was the only person in the world who mattered. Every conversation at the table felt like a distant echo. He kept imagining the way she smiled, the way her eyes softened when she looked at him. Nothing else seemed to matter.

As soon as the dinner ended, Gojo excused himself under the pre-tense of an late meeting with the head of the Kamo clan. The moment he got to his room, he called for his butler, his mind clouded with thoughts of Amara. He needed to hear from her. But when the butler arrived with the item she had left behind, there was something in the air, something unsettling in the way the butler held the small package. The butler’s expression was cold, his eyes narrow, but Gojo didn't pay it much mind.

He tore open the gift with a mix of anticipation and worry, his mind still caught in the fog of uncertainty about where Amara stood with him. A small white box fell open in his hands, and inside was a pregnancy test, a *positive* one. His heart stopped.

No.

A sense of dread suddenly besieged him it was like he could tell something was not afoot.

Gojo’s world tilted, the room spinning around him. His body moved before his mind had a chance to catch up, his legs carrying him to the car, to Amara’s apartment, a place that once felt like a sanctuary. He ignored the frantic calls from his fiancée and the messages from his staff as they bombarded him. There was only one thing on his mind, getting to her. He had to fix this.

When he arrived at Amara’s apartment, the emptiness hit him first. It felt wrong, too quiet, too still. He opened the door to find it completely cleared out, the space where her things once were now bare and hollow.

On the kitchen counter, a note lay waiting for him. His fingers trembled as he picked it up, his heart pounding in his chest. He read it over and over again, each word sinking into him like a dagger. “I guess I was never enough for you. Goodbye.”

His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor, the note crumpling in his hands. For the first time in his life, he felt utterly lost. His mind raced through the memories they had shared, the quiet nights, the stolen kisses, the way she would rest her head on his shoulder and make him feel like everything was right in the world. He loved her. He had loved her in a way that was supposed to last, in a way he thought would endure.

But she was gone.

Gojo’s breath came in ragged gasps as he stood up, his hands shaking with the weight of his guilt and despair. His eyes landed on a framed picture of him and Amara, taken on a day they had spent laughing, carefree, surrounded by sunlight and joy, the day she said she was lucky to have him, hanging on the barren walls, all her art work seemingly taken away. Without thinking, his fist collided with the glass, shattering it into jagged pieces. A sharp pain coursed through his knuckles as he pulled his hand back, a dark crimson stain spreading across his skin, his infinity failing him. But the pain didn't matter. It was nothing compared to the ache inside him.

He looked down at the blood seeping from his hand, a symbol of how broken he felt, of how shattered his entire world had become. The woman who had given him a reason to breathe, to keep going, had left him. And with her went the future he had imagined, one where they built a life together, one where they shared everything. But that was gone now.

His body trembled as he sank to his knees in the middle of the apartment, his sobs wracking his chest, raw and uncontrollable. He cried for Amara, for the child that would never know its mother or father together. He cried for the life he had lost and for the love he had thrown away, too blind, too foolish to see what was right in front of him.

Memories of her flooded his mind: her voice, her smile, the way she had been there for him even when he didn't deserve it. Now, all that was left were the ghosts of what could have been. The apartment, now empty and silent, felt like a tomb.

Gojo was broken. And he didn’t know if he could ever be whole again.

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[gnabnahc317cb97]

Drunk Confessions Part5

Jisung x Female reader

Word count: 1.9k

Synopsis: When Jisung, the guy that can't stand you, calls drunk and asks for a ride home from the bar you do it for the sake of your mutual friend Chan.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI! Cursing and strong language, mentions of drinking/over drinking/being drunk. That's all! If I missed something please let me know and I'll add it immediately!

To say that you were surprised when you saw Jisung’s contact picture pop up calling you at 2am would be a drastic understatement. You hesitated even answering worried it might just be more hateful and hurtful words you didn’t need or want to hear from him. The time was the only reason you did answer, in case he was in trouble or something. He might not be your friend but your friend cared about him so you answered. 

“Heyyy y/n.” He was very drunk. 

“Hey hey hey, are you there?” You hummed. 

“Yes Jisung I’m here...” He chuckled a little. 

“Okay look do you think you can pull the stick from your ass long enough to come get me from this bar. I made some new friends but none of us can drive, can we girls?!” You heard a group of drunk girls carrying on in the background hollering their agreement with Jisung. 

“Let me get this straight. You want me to come get you and an unknown number of girls and what? Take you home like I’m your personal uber?”  

“Unless you’d like to join us...” A scowl was plastered to your face whether Jisung could see it or not. 

“Goodbye Jisun-”  

“Wait wait! God I’m just kidding!” You huff a breath out not wanting to deal with him at all, let alone at 2am. 

“Jisung if you and only you need a ride because you’re drunk, I’ll come get you because Chan is our friend but if you think for one second I’m chauffeuring you and your harem home you’ve lost your goddamned mind.” 

“Okay! Jeeze, I see the stick has not been removed. Just me. Will you please give just me a ride.” You agreed and Jisung told you the bar he was at. When you pulled up you were hoping he was going to be waiting outside for you, of course he wasn’t.  

You parked and went into the club that was still surprisingly crowded. You scanned the crowd looking for Jisung until you finally recognized his slicked back black hair. It was criminal how gorgeous he was for being such a dick most of the time. There must have been some redeeming qualities about him that Chan saw or they wouldn’t be friends. You certainly didn’t. 

You didn’t know what you had done for him to dislike you so much but one night Jisung accidentally pocket dialed you and you heard every shitty thing he thought about you. After that you kept your distance. Still he always had something to say, like the stick up your ass line. You’d had enough and started avoiding him at all costs and now you were walking up to a guy you didn’t want to be around, in a club you didn’t want to be in and for no other reason than he’s your one of your best friend’s friend. You tapped him on the shoulder. 

“Jisung?” He spun around and the smile he was sporting fell at the sight of you which only made you feel like shit. 

“Ah! The stick in the mud I ordered fantastic.” He said and one of the girls next to him started laughing. You glared at her and she shut up quickly. 

“The stick in the mud is leaving now.” You turned and headed towards the exit. Jisung quickly said goodbye to the girls and ran after you, well stumbled. He had way too much to drink. 

“Wait you were gonna take me home!” You shrugged. 

“Guess you better keep up!” You called back to him as he tried to do just that. He did manage to make it to the car and get in before you were in drive so you decided to keep your word and take him home. The first half of the car ride was fairly quiet. Soft music playing and neither of you speaking. Then finally Jisung broke the silence. 

“Why do you hate me so much?” You looked over and he looked sleepy and a little sad. He was asking a serious question. 

“Seriously?” He nodded and his eyes somehow managed to get bigger and browner and you wondered if this was a little of what Chan saw. 

“Jee Jisung maybe because I have a stick up my ass and wouldn’t know a good time if it bit me in my backside. Or maybe it’s because I could never be your type because I’m stuck up and dress like a librarian, or maybe it’s because I only use Chan for food, alcohol, and money, or maybe it’s because I heard someone say a bunch of terrible things about me and assumed he didn’t like me so I stayed away!” You were angry that tears were welling up in your eyes as you shouted at him. Who was he to ask you why you hated him when he had so clearly disliked you first. 

“You heard me say all that?!” You shook your head rolling your eyes. 

“It doesn’t matter Jisung you don’t like me and I don’t like you and that’s fine okay?” Jisung had his head in his hands shaking it. 

“No no no you’ve got it all wrong!” You looked at him not buying it. 

“I heard it all Jisung straight from you.” He nodded. 

“Okay yes I said that stuff, but it was before I really knew you and I was wrong! I don’t hate you at all y/n I’m crazy about you!” You scoffed disgusted. 

“What the hell are you going on about!? You always call me names and act like you’re god’s gift!”  

“So I flirt like an idiot it doesn’t mean I don’t like you!” You slammed on your brakes. 

“FLIRT?! You call saying I have a stick up my ass flirting?!” 

“SHITTY FLIRTING, YES!”  

“OH WELL NO FUCKING SHIT! SO I’M SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE YOU LIKE ME?!” 

“YES!!” If the car hadn’t already been stopped you would have slammed on the brakes again. 

“Get the fuck out of my car.” Jisung tried to reason with you. 

“Wait let’s just talk about this.” You were done talking. 

“GET OUT!” He got out of your car and onto the sidewalk and you sped off. Who the hell did he think he was. Saying all those things about you, treating you the way he did, just to say he liked you. What a childish way to show affection, he might as well have been pulling your ponytail and tripping you while he was at it. You were halfway back home when the guilt of leaving him drunk and stranded hit you.  

“FUCK!” You made a U-turn and went back towards Jisung’s place. You ended up finding him about 2 miles from where you’d left him. He’d made surprisingly good time considering he was plastered. You pulled up, stopped and you rolled down the window. 

“Get in and don’t say a thing.” Jisung got in the car buckled up and didn’t say a single word the rest of the way to his place. When you got there you parked the car and looked forward not saying anything still furious. 

“Thank you.” Jisung said quietly. You didn’t say anything and continued looking forward, waiting for him to get out. 

“Okay... goodnight y/n.” He waited until you gave him a little nod, still not looking at him, and then he got out and went into his building, leaving you to drive home with a hundred thoughts swirling in your head. Like? He LIKED you? Did he even know you well enough to like you? You supposed he did.  

Chan had been trying to get you to come around a bit more too. Obviously they had been talking about you, you were sure Chan knew how Jisung felt but he’d never said a thing to you. You guessed because it wasn’t his information to share but still you were all friends he couldn’t have at least hinted? You were going to give him a little grief about it when you saw him next.  

For now you had to figure out what you were going to do about Jisung and his confession. You felt a little bad just taking off on him like that. You probably broke his heart. What if he really did hate you now? Why did that scare you so much suddenly? When you got home you went to bed but sleep was a fickle friend that night and with it already being so late, you barely got any rest. 

The next day you got up and went over to Jisung’s first thing. You pounded on his door until he woke up and answered. When he saw it was you his face fell again and just like the night before it hurt seeing him frown because of you. 

“Why?” Jisung was hungover, half asleep and very confused. 

“Why....” You rolled your eyes still on the fence about everything. 

“Why do you like me?”  

“Oh. Um, well... it’s hard-” You stopped him. 

“If you like with me the reason why shouldn’t be hard. You should be able t-” Jisung interrupted. 

“Because you’re beautiful okay!? Like the kind of beautiful other women can only hope to be. You are kind I’ve seen you sneak and buy like ten different homeless guys meals and you pay for mine and Chan’s food on a regular basis. You’re smart, and funny, and you don’t have to put up a front. If someone doesn’t like you then they don’t like you and you’re fine with that.” You shook your head. 

“No I’m not.” 

“What?” 

“I’m not fine with that, I hated that you didn’t like me. I didn’t know what I had done to make you think those things about me.” Jisung shook his head. 

“Nothing you didn’t do anything I was an asshole judging you because you were a pretty girl that hung around Chan all the time. Then I got to know you and asked Chan about you and I realized I was dead wrong. I never knew you heard me say those things or I would have apologized a long time ago. I am sorry y/n I was wrong and shouldn’t have said that and I shouldn’t have picked on you so much when there were clearly issues between us I just... wanted to make you laugh... get you to loosen up...” You laughed a little. 

“Get the stick out of my ass?” He pressed his fingers into his eyes embarrassed. 

“No no. You don’t have a stick up your ass or in the mud or anywhere. Your feelings were hurt and it was my fault. I’m so sorry.” You nodded. 

“Apology accepted Jisung.” His head shot up and he looked at you surprised. 

“Really!?” You shook your head. 

“Yes really. Jisung when you relax and just be you... I like you too.” His jaw was on the floor. 

“Ji a bug is gonna fly in your mouth.” He closed it. 

“Sorry just... you... you like me?!”  

“Of course Jisung, you're handsome and funny. You’re a dear friend to Chan which means a lot to me.” He laughed nervously.  

“At the risk of pushing my luck... would you want to go out with me this weekend? I’d love to take you to dinner. Buy you a meal for once.” You laughed and shook your head yes. 

“I’d really like that Jisung.” He smiled ear to ear. 

“Really?! Okay! I’ll text you and we’ll work out all the details!” Your smile spread across your face too. 

“Sounds good. I’ll go and let you get some rest now.” You leaned in and pressed your soft lips to Jisung’s and he thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest. 

“I’ll talk to you later Ji.” His chubby cheeks and his ears were red. 

“Yeah, okay... bye.” You turned and left and Jisung closed the door before leaning against it in total disbelief. He had a date with you. 

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

[limozapp]

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[more-than-a-princess]

@mechatiqe asked: [ 12 ] a lonely bus stop at 2am, (except kaz is snoozing away on the bench there)

Various Settings/Location Prompts - Accepting!

It was one of the few times Sonia would let her perfect posture slip: where no one could see her, or paid enough attention or care to tell her otherwise. In the back of the black car, with its tinted windows and bulletproof exterior, she leaned against the leather seats after fastening her seatbelt, driver and bodyguard in the front. Upscale parties that stretched late into the night, even after a full day of classes, were a test to both her nerves and her stamina. As soon as she'd been free to leave Miss Yukizome's homeroom, her private tutoring sessions for the day had been entirely devoted to primping for that night's gala: skin and hair and nails and makeup, well before she even donned her gown and jewelry that had been painstakingly selected for her via video call at home. Every bit of her appearance, from her looks to her gestures to her words, had to send just the right message to the organizers and attendees: that Princess Sonia of Novoselic was inquisitive and respectful of their culture and customs, not appropriative, and she was delighted to represent her father in all sorts of polite chit-chat, photographs, and dances when requested. Of course, a speech was expected as well, in nothing less than flawless Japanese delivered with the brightest smile.

No pressure, save for the ones that cut into her heels and toes. Weight of the diamonds and emeralds at her ears, neck, and wrist aside, it was her shoes that brought along the aches and pains. As the car turned a corner onto a busier road, well away from the tucked-away mansion in the city's most expensive area, she reached down to unbuckle the small straps around each ankle, letting out a sigh of relief as she kicked the glittery shoes aside.

"Are you more at ease now, Your Royal Highness?" A question in Italian came from up front. Insistent that Sonia not muck up the event, her mother had sent over a guard from Novoselic personally recommended and vetted by her family's head of security who would be certain to keep the Princess in line and on task in the absence of her personal secretary. In public, anyway: in the privacy of the car, Luca hadn't given a single care to how his client slouched in her dress, one that easily cost a three month's salary for the average Japanese office worker, against the seat or how she so easily discarded the shoes her mother had insisted upon. By a coveted French designer that pinched and prodded Sonia's toes.

"Very much so, Luca, I feel as if I might finally breathe today," She smiled, knowing it would be reflected in the rearview mirrors. Breathing, much less eating, were secondary and tertiary activities in her gown, considering how fitted it was through the bodice, but for now she didn't mind. Soon enough she'd be back in the safety and comfort of her dorm, her gown hung on its satin-padded hanger, while she dug into the chicken karaage, onigiri, and sweets the chauffeur had picked up for her from the konbini and that all three of them had made a pact not to tell her family about later. She deserved indulgences here and there, even if they were ones the Novoselic Royal Family didn't approve of.

Just like extending a helping hand when it couldn't be recorded for future posterity, or at least a necessary PR campaign in the wake of a scandal. As they pulled up to a stoplight, Sonia glanced out her window, her tired eyes suddenly no longer feeling so tired. A familiar shade of hot pink, of black lined eyes and a hat and jumpsuit: Kazuichi Soda looked far less animated than his usual self in her presence. On the contrary, he seemed to be waiting for a bus, fast asleep. A bus, she noticed after rolling down the window and sticking out her beautifully-coiffed head to read the sign beside the bench, that likely wasn't coming: the bus ended its route nearly two hours prior, if the sign beside him was accurate.

Sonia frowned. She couldn't very well leave him there, but this was Kazuichi she was considering. Their friendship, for all intents and purposes, was a relatively new development of relatively new mutual respect: he no longer called her Miss Sonia or put her on a pedestal, and she no longer referred to him as her stalker and pursued a restraining order. They were navigating uncharted waters, so to speak, and the last thing either of them needed was for him to read into a situation for something that wasn't there. Still, it would be cruel to simply drive by and allow him to sleep on a bench.

She cleared her throat, having made her decision. "Soda-san!" She called from the car. To no avail, it seemed, before she quickly instructed her driver to remain idle by the bus stop for a few moments longer. Nodding in satisfaction, she stuck her head back out the window again: was she truly going to 'cat call' him? That was what it was, right? When people hung their heads out the window to garner the attention of someone else?

"Soda Kazuichi-san!" She spoke again, this time louder, with full intent to wake him and anyone else in a fifty meter radius. "What are you doing out here so late? I am afraid the buses have stopped driving their routes ages ago. But if you would like, I am happy to share my car with you back to Hope's Peak Academy."