#tan briefcase

[themancorialist]

Cathedral Yard, Manchester.

[mxxnandstxrs]

Hey yall!

Im in need of some assistance, i want to get a wtnv themed tattoo sleeve (on my left arm) and im in need of some inspo/help!!

Its all gonna be linework, and purple ink, im hoping to make it an awesome tribute to the town that helped save my life <33

[chaotic-mystery]

PROFESSOR’S PET

Pairing: Art Professor!Joel AU x Teacher Assistant!f!reader.

Summary: Professor Miller wants you to teach the class tomorrow morning & you need help being less nervous. What if he’s the reason you’re nervous, though?

Content Warnings: SMUT 18+ only! MDNI. Age gap but not specified, power imbalance (professor x TA, reader stutters when nervous, academic weapon, teasing, fingering, one (1) pair of panties ripped to shreds, oral (f receiving), spitting, pussy slaps, praise kink, name calling (good girl, sweetheart, baby, smart girl), dirty talk, talking you through it, spanking, condescending a little bit, cum eating, face riding, nasty freaky kisses to share your cum, no use of y/n.

Authors Note: Good morning, babies! This is for @studioghibelli & their fantastic writing challenge. This moodboard was absolutely brilliant. As someone who did not go to college & can’t retain information well, I tried to research as much as I could about art so I hope I did it justice! 🩵 || wc: 2.6k || beta’d by @wannab-urs <333 ily sm gin ||

“You want me to do what?”

It came out more as an exclamation rather than a question but you didn’t care at the moment.

He couldn’t have been serious.

“I want you to teach the class tomorrow about your two favorite artists. That’s all I’m askin’” Professor Miller says, stuffing his papers back into the desk drawer for the night.

“B-but you know I don’t talk well in front of them, I constantly stutter and they don’t respond well to me yet, I-”

“Do you need me to help you with the lesson plan for tomorrow? I can come over and help you write down some notes on what you want to talk about, but I need you to get more comfortable around them. We have a long school year ahead of us, and it’s not going to work if you’re afraid to speak up here.”

He was annoyed having to explain his reasoning, but he was right. Even if you didn’t want to hear you were doing a terrible job as a teacher's assistant. Scratching your head and turning so he can’t see the look of shame on your face, Joel shuffles towards you and hands you your coat off the coat rack.

“It’ll be fine. All you need is a push and you’ll do great. Hurry before we miss the train.”

You nod and take your coat to put it on, the tan fabric becoming darker as you step outside and rain starts to pelt off it. Mr. Miller sighs and hoists his briefcase above his head and takes his other hand to the side of him searching for yours until he finds it and grabs it, guiding you through the raindrops until you get under the stone archway to take a brief moment for the rain to calm down.

“Can’t believe I’ve had you as a TA for almost two years now and have never once seen where you live or even know about you outside of this place.” His finger wags slowly behind his head, indicating he was referring to the school.

“I don’t really like to talk about myself, but my parents made a really good name for themselves. I was put through all the good schools they could toss their money at. I was supposed to go to school to be a lawyer, but I wasn’t interested in the slightest. I told my mom I wanted to study visual arts and she wasn’t too surprised, said I always had an eye for that sort of thing. I want to become a professor here one day but for now I just want to learn everything I can, ya know?” You smile at the ground as you think about teaching here someday and hope it doesn’t come off as dorky.

He’s so much older than you and probably knows so much between art and life. You could only hope to have as much knowledge as him when you become a professor.

“I think that’s amazing honestly. I hope to one day see you as a professor here whenever you feel like you’re ready.”

His grin eases your nerves, and you hear the train coming, taking his hand once more to run to the train stop. Your shoes squeak against the vinyl flooring of the moving cabin until you get to a seat by the foggy window, plopping your bag right next to you with Joel sitting across the small white table that was tattered from all the use.

The train ride to your town wasn’t too long and Joel read almost the entire time, asking you every now and then if you were okay. Once you catch a taxi to take you home, it drops you off right at the black iron gates. He steps out of the sleek black car and is a little taken aback by the size of your house.

“What’s the matter? I told you they had money.” You giggle and push the buzzer on the stone post to the left of you, telling them to let you inside. Almost instantly, the gates push open and you walk along the pebble drive, flinging your book bag over your shoulder as he follows a few steps behind you, taking in the beauty that is your house.

Once you get inside and introduce him to the small group of staff working, they tell you your parents went out for the evening to some charity event and there’s food in the fridge if you were hungry.

The nerves about teaching tomorrow overrode the feeling of being hungry, but you still offered Joel anything he could’ve wanted. He settles with water, and you leave him in the study where he’s content with gazing at the walls covered in full bookshelves about any and everything.

You come back in and shut the rosewood pocket doors quietly, careful not to disturb him from the current book in his hand about astronomy. The way his fingers grazed over the corners of the pages made your stomach tingle just a little bit, the dim lighting from the chandelier glowing a soft yellow on his face as he was entranced by the contents.

Get it together, he’s off limits, you tell yourself.

There was no ring on his finger and he always talked about his lonely weekends, but still. You were his teacher's assistant.

You clear your throat and set his water down on the desk before you turn on the green bankers lamp sitting at the edge of the table. Joel closes the red leather book and looks up at you, noticing the water, and he puts the book back where he found it.

“Thank you.” He raises the glass to you before taking a sip, the muscles in his neck contracting as he swallows, and it brings that same feeling as before that you felt in your stomach.

So, give me two of your favorite art pieces and the artist with some facts about them. You don’t have to start from their birth or anything.”

He pinches his slacks right on the thighs to hike them up just a little before he sits down in the wooden chair at the head of the table, his hands on the back of his head as his fingers interlock against his skull.

Focus.

You pace back and forth at the other end of the table, Joel’s eyes on you intently as you fiddle with your fingers, running through the list of artists you tend to gravitate towards.

“I got it. Botticelli.”

“Nice choice. Why him?”

You continue to walk back and forth and sort out which facts about him and his artwork you love to tell people they wouldn’t normally know.

“I love the painting Birth of Venus but um- it’s not technically her birth story, it’s m-more like the story continued after her birth; when she steps off her shell and onto the island of Cyprus. S-she’s being blown onto…” you take a deep breath in and put your head in your hands.

“I’m sorry, Joel.”

You turn away from him and look out the window trying to compose yourself.

“Just take your time, I’ve got all night, kid.”

Turning to face him, he’s sitting straight up now and you can tell he’s listening to every word coming out of your mouth. His dark jacket is tight on his arms and it’s just enough to show the outline of his muscles.

“She’s being blown onto shore by the spring winds which is Zephyr, who is accompanied by his wife, Chloris, who’s also blowing Venus’ shell to shore. Her pose was most likely inspired by an ancient marble statue in the Medici’s collection, which we refer to as the Medici Venus, the first ever nude female sculpture in classical art.”

You manage to recite all of that without stuttering this time and he grins proudly.

“I knew you could do it. Good job. Now, what I want you to do is write down bullet points on this note card with a keyword that’ll spark your mind and draw the facts out of you fluently.”

Your cheeks warm at first and then your brows furrow at his instructions.

“What do you mean, professor?”

“Come here, I’ll show you.”

He scoots his chair back enough so you can stand to the side of him and watch as he scribbles down some words on the lined piece of paper. The red ink flows effortlessly and he pushes it to you, pointing at what he did.

“It’s just a keyword that’ll spark your brain to talk about it. If you write down everything you’re gonna say, it sounds like a robot trying to read it. This way, you won’t get overwhelmed by everything you wanna say and you can sound effortless.”

You nod as the gears in your head turn, the idea making perfect sense now. Reaching out to grab another note card, you bend over to write on it, starting at the top. You feel Joel’s hand on the small of your back very lightly as he watches you write, the pen in your hand moving faster than he’s ever seen.

“The next one is gonna be the technique he used for the painting.”

You write the word ‘technique’ shakily, trying to breathe manually.

“What about his technique?” Joel asks, his hand not moving from your back.

“H-he um, he used the tempera technique, it’s when you d-dilute a raw egg with water and mix watered down p-pigment with it and um-um paint with it.” Your words get breathy and all at once you stand straight up, clearing your throat once more.

“You’re still pretty nervous. Is it me? Am I making you nervous?” The condescending tone in Professor Miller's voice makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, feeling like you’ve been called out.

“Partially, maybe.” You admit and turn away from him but you don’t move from next to him.

He runs his hand over his scruff and smirks slyly.

“Do you trust me?”

Without hesitation you nod yes.

“Turn around for me.” Joel’s hands grip your hips and spin you around in your spot.

“Now read your little note card for me. Come on, you’ve got this, smart girl.”

That was all you had to hear to make your stomach flip and arousal flood your body. Smart girl.

His hands never leave your hips as he holds you still, subconsciously rubbing the fabric of your skirt on the waistband while you read your notes. You manage to get through half of them before you stutter out and stop again.

“Again, from the top.” He says softly, still holding onto you. Just as you begin to speak, you feel yourself being guided backwards and you don’t stop talking, going with the flow of things.

For the purpose of learning, right?

Joel puts you right against his thighs, his head peeking over the side of your arm to see what bullet point you were on.

“Keep going, you’re doing such a good job.” He whispers as he rubs your back gently.

“Botticelli used the tempera technique, which is when you mix a r-raw egg with water a-and you dilute yo-our pigment with water and mix th-em together.”

His hand ever so slowly moves around the side of your thigh until he’s on the top of it, his thumb dangerously close to the point of no return. Your breaths were getting heavier and you were almost positive he could feel your heart rattling in your body like a caged animal.

“Joel, I-”

“Start it again, and if you stutter I’ll stop.”

His hand dips under your skirt and he nods to your index card, wanting you to restart.

“Well come on, be a good girl for me.” He grunts out and smirks before biting your arm playfully.

You didn’t know how you got here or why he wanted to touch you this way but you weren’t going to stop him. He was a good looking man and god forbid you do something out of your normal routine.

His fingertips dance over your overly excited clit and release some tension for you, and it’s like a key to a gate, your legs spreading more and more with every circle from his middle finger. You continue to talk through his efforts to make you stutter, even when he gets faster and kisses your back.

“Just like that, sweetheart. Next artist, let’s go.” He pushes you up on the desk and splits your legs apart, ripping your panties in two before he takes off his jacket and rolls his shirt sleeves up to his elbows.

“The Swing painted by Jean-Honore Fragonard. It’s said it’s a commission from a man on the court who requested Fragonard to paint him and his younger mistress being pushed on a swing while he watches and admires her-oh my god, Joel, right there, yes, yes.”

His tongue dances against your clit after he spits on it, licking every inch of you just to hear your pretty moans. His hands travel up your abdomen until he gets to your shirt, ripping the buttons apart to see your beautiful breasts. A deep groan against your overly sensitive clit makes your eyes almost roll back into your skull and he slaps your pussy firmly.

“That’s not being a good girl. Did I tell you to stop?”

“No, sir.” You whimper and try to get back on track about the painting you were talking about. His curls tickle against the soft insides of your thighs as he continues, licking feverishly at your clit.

“The brushwork is rapid and it exemplifies the Rococo style of playfulness and elegance” you whimper out and buck against his face, your hand dipping into his hair to tug firmly.

He spanks your ass as he feels your body squirm under him, tugging your legs to rest on his shoulders as he continues to lap up your arousal.

“You’re such a filthy girl, riding your professor's face in your house, naughty naughty girl. Oh, yes, cmon sweetheart, use my mouth.”

You moan his name louder and thank god your sounds are muffled from the rest of the house by all the literature covering the walls. Somehow you finish telling him about the painting and he looks at you as you cry out for more from him, your slick glossing over his mustache.

“Please make me come, Joel. Please, I need you so bad.” You kiss him roughly and try to grab his rock hard bulge but he pulls his hips away and groans loudly on your lips before grinning, going back down to your pussy and moaning against you.

“Come right on my face, right fuckin’ now. Let me taste how sweet you are. I know you can’t handle much more and you don’t wanna disappoint me, right baby?” Joel smirks and flattens his tongue against your clit once more, teasing you and enjoying this just as much as you were.

The burning sensation in your belly starts to spill over and before you can tell him, you grip both edges of the table and come against his face, crying and squirming to get away from him but it only makes Joel pin you down by your wrists and lick harder, tasting every bit you give him.

He licks you clean and kisses his way up your stomach, through the valley of your breasts to your lips, sharing the deliciousness with you. As you come down from your high, the grandfather clock in the corner of the room starts to chime, indicating it was midnight.

“That 7:30 A.M. class is gonna be here before you know it, professor.” You push the damp curls off his forehead and giggle as he stands up tiredly, holding a hand out for you. As you sit up on the table, his hand cups your cheek and kisses you deeply once more.

“You owe me sleep, so much sleep.”

[gh0stsp1d3r]

I have an idea for a tangerine x fem!reader, i was thinking a Mr and Mrs smith idea. So reader is married to tan and is also a contact killer/assassin but he doesn’t know this until he finds her on the train holding the briefcase

Then yanno the usual sexual tension and witty remarks 🤩

Thank youuuu

Unexpected

THE MR AND MRS SMITH REFRENVE IS EVEN MORE FUNNY WHEN YOU KNOW THAT BRAD PITT PLAYED JOHN LMFAOO

Tangerine tried his best to keep his job away from you, it was hard but he did it.

You also tried to keep your job away from him, you both usually called and sometimes maybe on a weekend if you both weren’t busy.

You both lived busy lives, sure. But you still found time for each other, and still loved each other very much.

So it was very, extremely unexpected to see each other on the train.

You and your partner Ladybug walked around.

You noticed someone, and recognized him. As you guys were about to leave the train, A familiar face stopped you.

You both quickly ran onto the train.

“That’s my husbands brother!” You whispered.

“What? He shot me, like.. twice!” He whisper yelled back, and you both quickly ran away.

“So, let me get this straight, your husbands brother is just coincidentally on this train, and he’s also a contract killer. What the fuck does your husband do?”

“He said he just works in an office job!”

“So uh, you can’t really like freak out or anything because this is just a guess, but I’m pretty sure that he and his brother were the two who did that one Bolivia job.”

“You mean the one where they wiped out the white deaths crew?”

“Yeah..”

“Oh my god. I’ve been lied to my whole marriage.”

“Technically you’ve been lying too. Y’Know it would really help to process this-“

“Shut up!” You said, and pushed ladybug aside as you saw your husband walking towards you both.

“Right, right, sorry.” He said as you both hid.

“He doesn’t know. Holy shit. Holy shit. I’m about to be divorced.”

“No you won’t. Just talk it out-“ he hid in a storage area. You flicked him off and hid against a wall, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He walked in, and he immediately saw you. It wasn’t exactly subtle.

He said your name, confused. You opened your eyes.

“Ta-da…” you said.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asked.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Work trip.”

“Me too.”

You both stared in silence as his phone rang. He answered it, still looking at you. You couldn’t hear what the other guy was saying.

After he hung up, he put his phone back in his pocket.

“I’m glad to see you, I haven’t seen you in a few days. But… seriously, what are you doing here?” He cleared his throat after a while.

“Like you said, work trip.”

He narrowed his eyes, and ladybug swore he could cut the tension with a knife. He felt as if he was watching some weird romantic action movie.

“Right, well, you should probably get off next stop. Lotta traffic after next stop…” he said.

You sighed and looked at ladybug for a second then back to him.

“I know you’re an assassin.” You said.

“Love, that is ridiculous-“ he said, way too quickly.

“Before you say anything- I am too. And I’m sorry for lying.”

“I’m not-“

“Seriously? You’re still lying?”

He felt guilty now.

“Fine. Yeah. I’m sorry for lying too.”

“So… you did the Bolivia job?”

“Yeah.”

You sighed, maybe he wouldn’t notice ladybug in the back.

“Well, uh, just- be careful, alright? We’ll talk when we get home.” You said.

“Yeah… you here for the case?” He asked.

“No. I came here to kill the wolf.” You lied.

“Alright.” He sighed, and fixed his mustache in the mirror, still not noticing ladybug.

“Love you.” He said, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek and leaving.

“Love you too.”

Ladybug groaned and moved. He stood in front of you now.

“Well, now we’re fucked.”

“Yup.”

“Y’Know, there was a lotta sexual tension there. It was so weird-“

“Shut it.”

“Yup, yup, sorry.”

[queers-gambit]

The Blood of the Covenant

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

pairing: Tangerine x female!assassin!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 9.4k+

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

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

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

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

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

"What truth?"

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

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

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

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

"Are those even a thing anymore?"

"Fuck if I know," you snorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I wanna hear how this goes!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Spot-on advice, love."

"You'd be lost without me."

"Bye, you idiot."

"Seriously, don't get shot!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hi, doll!"

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

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

"Yeah, Tan," you pouted dramatically.

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

"Nope."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I needed to?"

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

"This pays better."

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh - for fuck's - "

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, you're just whipped!"

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

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

"What's wrong?" She asked.

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

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

"Hmm?" You perked your brows.

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

"You're fuckin' joking, right?"

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

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

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

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

"Get off the fucking train, Olive!"

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

"Olive - "

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

"What?" Lem's face dropped.

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

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

"Zip tied to his seat," Lemon nodded.

"Mhm, and where was the case?"

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

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

"Yeah," he nodded sadly.

"Oh, so when she says it - "

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What? He had a wife?"

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

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

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

"Fucked," Lemon finished.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Excuse the fuck outta me?"

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

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

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

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

"I'm tryna keep you safe!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No," Tan snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You seriously need it?" You chuckled.

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

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

"He's not gonna get any deader."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ah, fuckin' Christ."

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

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

"You got my partner killed, bitch!"

"It was an accident!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's all part of the job!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What're you - "

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

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

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

You paused, "A-Are you serious?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We have new intelligence."

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

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

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

"What did you do?"

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

"Did you?"

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

"What happened?"

"You always assume the worst in me."

"You only prove me right."

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

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

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

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

"Why would I lie?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Our handler's collaborated with her before."

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

"Right."

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

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

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

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

"We can try."

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

You agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Something like that," you mused.

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

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

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

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

"Did you deserve it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's up?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Peachy keen, love."

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

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

"Need help?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jesus Christ," you chuckled.

"Yeah?"

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

"Oi, hang on, gotta rubber - "

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't stop!"

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

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

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

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

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

"So bad, need your cum so bad!"

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

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

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

"Think so."

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

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

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

"Uh-huh."

"Think I just found our past time."

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

"We'll have to eat."

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

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

"Hmm? What is it, love?"

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

"What do you mean?"

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

"What? You mean, with us?"

"Yeah."

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

"Really?"

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

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

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

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[thoughtsafterdark]

Hospitals and Airports are the closest modernity can come to reaching the Divine

Have you noticed how some places seem immune to time and social conventions. Like airports, those monoliths of now. Harsh lights burning and souls criss-crossing, tongues melting together into a writhing throng of humanity, a steaming cesspit of consciousness. Steeped in camaraderie yet drenched in isolation. The electric blue arrivals sign glares with neon brightness at 3am, a beacon that signals the end of the road.

Here comes a family of 4 on their way home, crossing through automatic doors into the balmy drizzle of a British night, carrying their loot of straw hats and cheap pendants, tan lines and peeling red lobster skin. A girl no older than 5 limps after her parents and older brother. She lugs her bright pink unicorn behind her and hugs the hood of lilac pyjamas close, rubs the sleep out of her eyes whilst her mother shouts at her to hurry. Soon she’ll tuck herself into bed, in the attic of their ordinary red brick London row house, and she’ll watch the sun peak over the trees in the back garden for the first time in her life. It will become a core memory she will think fondly back on for years to come.

By the first class lounge they hurried past, a man in an impeccable suit (Sheep’s wool, the finest money can buy. The grey colour of the Thames on an early morning) paces back and forth restlessly, briefcase in hand, phone in another. Gold amber eyes like a hawk, close cropped black hair and neatly trimmed beard, square pocket matching the deep tan of his shoes (authentic leather). He is barking orders to someone in Arabic, closing deals, building empires. A bloodied napkin he used to stop a nosebleed earlier falls out of his pocket and winks up at the scaffolding exposed ceiling, high and arching like the dome of a cathedral. He’ll make the sale, then visit the airport bathroom again before hailing a cab to the closest 5 star. In the morning, the maid who took the job to send money to her ailing mother in the Philippines will find his cold stiff body and scream. She’ll call the police and be taken in for questioning. She never signed up for this.

At the hospital coffee shop – two streets and half a lifetime away - a 4th year med students sips on a cortado like her life depends on it. Caffeine surges through her veins, bracing her for the day ahead. Unbelievable how exhausting trying to take up as little space as possible can be. She hates the spiel, it’s the same every time. A new dawn, a new face, a new team. The introductions, the smiling, the grovelling, the headache. She’s 5ft flat with bright orange hair, aspirations for Neurosurgery and a bright pink notebook, so why would they take her seriously.

It’s 8:30, and she’s scheduled for 9am clinic, so she has time for a hurried breakfast today. (Eating any earlier makes her gag). Small mercies. The off-red stained scrubs she nicked from the theatre changing rooms cling to her like a second skin preparing to moult. She squirms in them, the comfort undeniable. They make her feel like she belongs. They make her feel like an imposter.

Her table – she comes here so often; she thinks of it as hers - sits right by large windows overlooking the main entrance and staircase. She sees it all from here, her quiet unassuming throne. The doctors and nurses, physios and pharmacists. Rushing rushing, running, stressing. Wishing, hoping, waiting, waiting, waiting. For the shift to end, for the time for bed. For this rotation to change, for the exam to pass. We’ll go on that holiday next month, next year. When money isn’t tight, when things are more settled.  Before they know it they’ve wished their lives away.

Their patients understand, all too well and all too late. The same father with the IV drip and the metal stand comes down here every morning to see his daughters. They run up to him, he holds them close and beams. But his grip is getting weaker, smile is getting thinner. He doesn’t answer when they ask when he’s coming home. It’s funny what we can’t hear when we’re too busy wearing stethoscopes. Next month she (I) will be stationed on the Psych ward. We’ll have to do it all again, but maybe they’ll hear me this time. Maybe it’ll get easier.

Between them all and among them, if you squint and unfocus your eyes during one of those ungodly hours at the Starbacks across from Boots and WHSmith, leaning against a grey white pillar you might see him.

He is the spectre that haunts airport lounges and waiting rooms alike, the handsome stranger with the black snapback and the beats headphones and the khaki shorts. The one who lives out of a rucksack and wears a travel pillow like a crown. With the kind eyes and crows feet, and honey chestnut curls. He is that boy from your high school everyone liked, with a kind word for everyone; the one with a charmers smile and the charisma to bullshit his way through anything. The one who – when pressed for future plans, would laugh and shake his head, looking down bashfully. “I just want to travel for now, see where it takes me. I want to see the world”, he’d say, eyes twinkling with the possibilities. On someone else, the words would likely merit a telling off, they’d be seen as the paper thin excuse to fuck around and get high. But he seemed so genuine, and his teeth were such a dazzling shade of brilliant white when he smiled, even the strictest careers advisers couldn’t resist.

He lives in those moments, the liminal fabric between worlds that’s so hard to put your finger on. Blink and you’ll miss him in the old alleys of Rome, the spark of his cigarette lighter blending amongst the city lights.

You’ll find him among the most remote hiking trails of the Peloponnese, laughing with local shepherds and German tourists alike, sitting on jutting rocky cliffs and admiring the blue Mediterranean below. If you really pay attention, you’ll see his staff isn’t like the others. Something suspiciously like a pair of snake slithers up and down. You could swear you heard them whispering just now, but when you look again it’s just a wooden stick.

He is the patron of us wanderers and travellers, those of us with movement in our blood and restlessness in our hearts. The ones who beget the will of changing winds and shifting tides. The ones who can’t allow themselves to sit still, lest the dust settle and the coffee get cold. The mortifying ordeal of being seen and known. Or the ones that carry a hearth with them, in the bottom of a suitcase, in the heart of a trailer. The ones who move and weave through the Earth not because they are running but because they are coming home. He dances and jokes with the kids amongst campfires, always welcome, always a pleasure. And if he helps them pick the odd lock, swearing solemnly to secrecy, who are we to judge.

His bronze skin smells of cinnamon and nutmeg, vanilla and cedar and a thousand other spices. He reeks of incense and market stalls, moles and freckles tell the story of trading routes and old silk roads, of cotton shawls from Alexandria and silk from Pekking. His fingers and eyes twinkle with the good-natured mischief of petty thieves and sleight-of-hand magicians, tricksters and circus performers. He picks apples from behind ears, presents jewel necklaces to his lovers.

She sees him now, amongst the patients. He helps an old lady up the steps, pulls a balloon out of his back pocket to the delight of a sick child. She locks eyes with him and they nod at one another She has been seen now, and known. Perhaps she’ll find him again one day, if either stop running.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

TANGERINE MASTERLIST.

<- back to navi

last updated: aug 23, 2024

KEY:

☾ -> fluff/ comfort

★ -> smut

✧ -> angst

blank -> miscellaneous

type “tangerine” “tangerine x reader” or “tangerine headcanon” in my search to find asks that ive responded to — lots of random thoughts & hc’s to check out

hotel room - changing plans midway through a mission in Tokyo- you, tangerine and lemon decide to stay in a hotel instead of taking the bullet train ★

home is where the heart is - you and tangerine have a free day, deciding that you want to spend the cold day at home doing cozy domestic activities ☾

“you’re more like me than you think” - tangerine hasn’t been completely honest with you and you find out something you were supposed to. already feeling frustrated with your relationship, you don’t take the news lightly ★✧

imagines/ headcanons ☾

date night - tangerine has been away on a mission for the last week and is back in time for date night. missing each other like crazy, you decide to have a not-so-quiet night at home ★

when the trains a-rocking don’t come a-knocking - taking a job in japan collecting a briefcase from a train sounds easy, right? but not when you meet a pair of brother assassins from your past ★

one year later - one year ago today, you and tangerine celebrated the birth of your daughter, mandarin - mandy for short. this special day also marks the anniversary of when you unintentionally saved his life - calling him home from his mission in tokyo ☾

thot ★

thought ☾

thot 2 ★

“men” ✧ & ☾

roles reversed ☾

put it on the plastic ★

comfort blurb ☾

rot ☾

REQUESTS:

ARCHIVED POSTS FROM JAN ‘23 - EARLY JUN ‘23

reverse comfort ☾

shared sickness ☾

homemade ☾

subtle envy ✧?

love to hate (1 year bullet train anniversary)

consummate the marriage ★

melatonin ☾

assassin reader hc’s

forgive and forget ★

quip ☾

baby driver

sneaky findings

pregnancy hc’s ☾

safe and quiet ☾

the first time ★

three idiots in the kitchen ☾

ace hc’s ☾

short gf spooning tan hc’s ☾

how he would be/ act with a crush ☾

wouldn’t do that ☾

text conversations ☾

thots of him eating you out ★

take a break ☾

stay ☾

cinema date ★

make time ★

sfw alphabet ☾

vulnerability ☾

meet in the middle ★

helping hand ★

meet again

barside meet

village date ☾

gifts ☾

money where his mouth is ★

missed calls ✧

healer ✧

in vein ☾

baby fever ☾

up his game

silent supporter ☾

day at home ☾

two am wake-up call

back up ☾

country lanes ☾

both hands full ★

rose-tinted view ☾

ice ☾

take a break ☾

bows and braids ☾

outta your mind ★

new addition ☾

handle with love ★

another ache ★

two in a bed ☾

bribery ☾

sloshed — suggestive

brown paper bag ✧

speedbump ★

a surprise ✧

sweet wife, sweet life ☾

blast from the past

‘t’ for timeout ☾

cuts and scrapes ☾

red ★ & ✧ & ☾

for your support ☾

baby brain ☾

joyride ★

attention ★

nothing left to give ✧

twelve days ✧

clump of small blurbs + one for pietro ☾

out of criteria

give in to it ☾

honesty hour

© little-miss-dilf-lover // all work is my own. please do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[oval3000]

Chapter 3

Yandere Teacher Nanami x Student Reader

Warning: Abuse, Smut, Abduction, Violence, Rough play, toxic behavior, age gap, everything from all above. Mainly from his point of view...somewhat... modern au- idk. College teacher x student.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

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

He could hear the voice of his fellow female colleague, trying to get his attention. He could hear her light heels speeding up against the floors, "Mr. Nanami? Could you help me with the new test sheets? I have to print a lot and my students are going to come in a few minutes." He rolled his eyes. Not the first time his colleague asked for help even though it was her responsibility to do so herself.

"You were supposed to have them ready the day before," he turned around to face, having his head tilted a bit. He had things to do, and he was a busy man so when someone came in and stopped him, it irritated him dearly.

"I know, but I got caught with the time." She placed her hand on his biceps, she looked at him with a sad expression on her face, "Please."

At that moment he saw another colleague, "Mr. Yamagachi, can you help Miss. Ito with her work?"

"I'm pretty sure Mr. Yamagachi is busy." She smiled letting out a bit of laughter.

"So am I. Next time plan more so you can actually do your job." Nanami turned back around and exited the building. He got into his nice car and drove off.

He pulled up to his new two-story house brick, victorian, home. He closed the dark brown wood door behind him, dropping his briefcase on the floor. He took off his tan blazer off, hanging on the coat rack at the corner of the front entrance. He opened the door to his office and placed his items on the desk. He pinched the bridge of his glasses, pulling them off his face. As he sat down on his chair, his head swung back making him stare at the ceiling. He side-eyed his computer, moving the mouse to turn it on. quickly logging in and going through his gallery. He saw the portfolio of pictures and images of you. Pictures that he took of you during his class. They weren't clear pictures, mostly blurry due to the fact that he had to zoom through the lens to take the pic of you and no one else. A perk of having a bunch of students that don't pay attention is that students won't notice Nanami, sneaking, pulling out his phone, and taking a few pics of you. He made it seem like he was just using his phone, scrolling through whatever. Sure, he has the photo of you that you took when you got your school ID, but it just wasn't enough.

He looked around his desk and imagined the empty space to be filled with pictures of you and him together. Pictures of you holding children. If he wanted to go through this, he needed a nice home. A home that resembles having a family with plenty of rooms and space. He got up and went towards the master bedroom. He walked over to the windows, opening the white curtain revealing a big wood board that covered the whole window, behind the board was another set of white curtains. He tugged on the board to test the strength and smiled to himself to see how secure it was. It wasn't a permanent thing, he'll eventually take it off once you are comfortable. He doesn't even how you'll react towards this, towards him. Are you going to scream? Are you going to try and escape? Or are you going to accept him a be the perfect wife for him? Questions that he wants clear answers to, but the only thing he can get is theories.

He went towards the bed, tugging on the rope that was tied to the headboard, again smiling to himself on how secure it was. He quickly swept the empty side of the closet so it was ready for all of your things. He dusted off half of the empty drawers, ready to be stuffed with your undergarments. The room is fairly large. A nice comfy armrest chair in the corners with a matching stool at the front. The bed, a king-size bed, perfectly centered, the headboard up against the while, and two nightstands on either side of the bed. On the other side, across from the bed, is a door that leads to the bathroom. He picked up the brown, paper, bag from the chair and opened the door to the bathroom. He grabbed all the items from the brown, paper, bag and placed them on the bathroom counter. He crumbled the paper bag and tossed it in the trash. He placed the extra toothbrushes and toothpaste in one of the drawers. He placed the box of pads under the bathroom sink. All hygiene products, he placed them in their designated spot; shampoo, body wash, conditioner, and body scrub. He went back to the room and placed all other products into the white vanity that he built and got for you; hair brush, moisturiser, sunscreen, all types of serums, spray facial mist, hair ties, hair oils, hair blow dryer, lip oils, lip balms, and some nail polishes. The cashier who scanned of of his items was calling him sweet for getting all of this for his significant other. Nanami smiled and thanked her. It was sweet, so you would be happy to be here, right?

He quickly cleaned the rest of the house, settling everything in. Tidying up the kitchen and living room, leaving everything simple and clean. Of course, things can change once you're here. If you want to move things around or add things, Nanami made sure to keep it simple that way you can add your personal touch to the house. Nanami, resting on the couch, turning on the flat-screen TV, resting on top of the fireplace, pulled out his phone and went through your social media post. He never used social media, but he knew he was to get to know you a lot more, so he quickly downloaded them and made fake names. You kept things private so it was a hard time for him to get through, you had friends and relatives who weren't private and who posted things about you. He saw posts that your friends and relatives have put out like the day they took you to celebrate your birthday at a restaurant or when you went to the movies and they posted a 'best day ever' selfie with you in the background. He was lucky to remember the people you talked to when he saw you at the college campus or else he wouldn't know more about you.

He went through many scenarios in his head. Was this the right thing to do? Is this necessary? Would it be easier if he just talked to you and confessed his feelings towards you? After all, what's the worst that can happen? Him being rejected? No. He just can't accept that.

Not when he could feel your body heat as he leaned closer to you, hovering over you. "I'm having trouble with this one Mr. Nanami?"

He placed his hands in front of you almost caging you in. Your back was turned to him as you were sitting down, staring at the question with a wooden pencil in your hand. You were so oblivious about everything it made Nanami go feral. He leaned closer to you, his mouth near your neck, "What are you not understanding, sweetheart?"

"Which formula am I supposed to use when they didn't give the percent number on how much it's been missing?" You said, rereading the question in your head.

"Which one do you think would work the best when one variable is missing, love." His cock felt like it was going to explode with cum on how close and how cute you were to him. He loved this. He enjoyed this.

"This one?" You pointed to one of the formulas tilting your head a bit.

Nanami smiled, "Yes, correct. You're doing amazing." His lips parted, feeling his crotch area getting tight. He thought he was able to control himself by now but clearly, he wasn't. He was thankful that the chair was blocking his hard boner from your back or else his plan was going to come to an end and all of his hard work would've gone to the trash. he saw the way you quickly solved the question of how easily you cached on. His high hopes were showing. Maybe it wouldn't be hard?

Days would go by and eventually, you fully understood everything he had taught you that you miss. You asked Nanami if you were ready to retake the test and he was trying to insist that it's okay to take more time to study, but you told Nanami that you are ready. Nanami enjoyed these moments he had with you even though you had no idea what was going on, he didn't want it to end. He needed you.

He knew that his time was coming close, so when he saw you outside the campus building, sitting on one of the benches, he walked up to you. "Everything alright, (Y/n)?"

You looked up from your phone, "Yes, I'm just waiting for my cab"

"Well," he looked around to find no one. The time stamp during this moment is where there are fewer students, and less crowded. "If you want, I can take you? I'm heading out for my lunch break, I can take you home." You weren't really sure about it. Nanami could see that you were hesitant. "It'll be no problem. Besides you most likely have things to do. Don't want to waste time waiting, right?"

"Right. Okay." You got up, quickly canceling your ride." Thank you, Mr. Nanami." You followed him to his. He opened the passenger side for you. When you got inside his car you were quite surprised at how neat and clean his car was. "You have a nice car, sir."

"Really? I mean, it's just a car in average condition." He said, starting his car and pulling out of the parking lot.

"Well, I guess I've never seen a guy keeping his car in good shape." You said, trying not to keep things awkward between the both of you. You never head a teacher driving you home or anywhere. Yes, you went inside strangers' cars, mainly cab and Uber drivers that you contacted before, but never someone that you sort of knew and definitely never a teacher.

"Never seen a guy have a clean car?" He questioned, giving you glances.

"No. My ex-boyfriend was really messy. He always had a messy and smelly car." You clutched your bag close to you.

Nanami felt his throat a bit dry. His hands were gripping the steering wheel. "Ex-boyfriend?"

"Yeah, I used to date this one guy. He was my first boyfriend. We only lasted like three months so I wouldn't really call him a boyfriend. We hardly did anything together." You said. You looked out at the window and realized something. "Wait," Nanami pulled over to a curb in an area where it was isolated, and pulled out a white cloth while you stared out at the window, "I never even told you where I lived, I liv-" You couldn't finish the sentence because Nanami quickly covered your mouth.

The cloth had two pills in it, "That's it." Nanami felt his arm getting slapped repeatedly by you. He could hear your muffled screams, which made him pull you closer, lifting your head up so the pills could go down. You felt the small pills going down your throat. You felt like you were going to choke, so you had no choice, but to swallow them. It was painful and soon you felt weak. "Good girl." Eventually, you fell into your sleep. He got your phone and took out the memory card and battery before tossing it out. Nanami continued to drive off.

He pulled up to the house and parked in the garage that was connected to the house. He opened his door and quickly went towards yours. He opened the passenger door and carried you out bridal style. He entered the home and headed upstairs. He placed you on the bed and quickly tied your hands with the ropes that were tied to the headboard.

He finally took a deep breath, falling down on the bed next to you. He looked over his side and stared at you. He stared at the ceiling, feeling his heartbeat slowing down a bit. His palms began to feel less shaky and the sweat forming finally calmed down.

He sat up covering his face with his hands. "What the hell am I doing?" He got up and paced around the room staring at your unconscious body. He got on the bed and hovered over you. "You're driving me crazy," he whispered to you. He placed his hand on your waist, " You're doing this to me." He placed a light kiss on your lips.

He got up and headed down to the kitchen and decided to make a light sandwich. After he finished he went to the car and gathered the rest of your things. He went through your bag and found your wallet. He found your IDs and cards.

He heard light noises coming from upstairs. He got up from the chair and placed the cards on the kitchen table. The closer he got to the second floor the more he could hear more of the noises and groaning. He opened more of the bedroom door and saw you opening your eyes. You moved to your side buring your face into your hands. He saw the way you peeked at the entrance and saw him which made you quickly sit up. He saw the way tears were forming in your eyes. You curled yourself up, bringing your knees up to your chest. " Please don't hurt me."

He shut the door behind him.

"Please."

He walked closer to you. "I won't hurt you."

"Where am I?"

"You're at home. With me."

@black-swan-blog27

@srae123

@foggyturtleknightangel

[intheshadows2000s]

Oh! Darling

Co workers? More? Who knows…

WARNINGS: 18+, smut

Part ONE

You walked through the halls with a pep in your step and a warm, steaming coffee in your hand. You loved it after the autumn half term, when you'd come back to bare trees on campus and a certain chill in the air that contradicted the bright sun. You loved winter mornings and this one was particularly sensational, the leaves had crunched beneath your feet as you'd walked in, the cold had bitten at your red raw cheeks, the scarf around your neck felt cosy and undeniably warm. The corridor smelt musty from the radiators that were on their first shift of the year, and damp shoes squeaked against varnished wood floors. Something about this time of year just felt so....joyous. The period before Christmas, when everybody was looking forward to something, everybody was letting a little looser, getting a little softer around their bellies. It felt so wholesome, it nearly made you cry.

But you couldn't cry in this setting.

It was your first semester on the job. So far you'd been doing exceptionally well and as far as you knew, your students liked and trusted you enough. You'd worked for years to master your craft, enough to be here and responsible for helping younger, inspired students to do the same. Maybe that's what made you so joyous or maybe you just romanticised life. But either way, you were happy.

The lecture hall was empty. You were the first there, hoping to get everything set up in time for the students arriving. You pulled your laptop out and switched the projector on, bringing up your carefully conducted PowerPoint. You found joy in the little things, like perfection, organisation. Having your notes before you made your head feel less stuffy despite how early it was, and how your nerves had kept you up all night. You set up a list of names so you wouldn't forget any of the students, despite there being over fifty of them in this class. Everything had to be done perfectly, or you'd have a meltdown.

The door creaked open just as you'd finished your ritual and picked up your coffee. You peered over in intrigue, wondering what eager beaver has arrived fifteen minutes in advance. But when a familiar face pops around the door, you feel your own cheeks heat.

Professor Turner is much more established than you, not just in the university but also in your specific subject. He's only a few years your senior, but with his cashmere jumpers and fluffy, plump hair, you'd think he'd been curated specifically to be a middle-aged literature professor. His brown eyes matched the colour of his jumper today, a white shirt peeking out the top of it stark against his slightly tanned skin. Usually, he was pale as translucent paper. He must of gone on holiday during the break, you thought. In one hand he held his briefcase, cracked brown leather that looked decades old even though he could've only been in this job for a few years at most. In his other hand a steaming mug of coffee and the door wedging into his knuckles as he tried to push it open. His pointed black boots were partially hidden by his long flared trousers and also fighting with the door for it to remain open. No matter how good he was at his job, he always seemed to be in a rush, unorganised and dismayed at any time of day. You watched as he eventually won his battle with the door, managing to open it enough to slide in fully, a small sigh of relief escaping his lips before his gaze settled on you and he stalled entirely.

It was almost comical. He resembled a deer in headlights as he looked at you, but the shock soon faded and replaced it was inquisitiveness.

"Oh hello," he said, his deep voice echoing off the walls. You both winced as if it was too early for such a bold sound. He sounded gruff and hard done by, as always. And if you were honest....he scared you a little.

Everyone else in the faculty had been so welcoming, it was only him that held back, reserved and unforgiving. You tried to talk to him in your first week at a mixer and he might as well have told you to do one with how little he engaged. You decided then that he kept to himself and you wouldn't be one to disturb his peace, and you'd avoided him ever since.

"Do you have this room booked?"

"Yes," you squeaked and winced and blushed, the whole thing resembling some bad nineties caricature. The mug in your hands scalded your skin, but you were too cautious to move.

"Shit - sorry," he groaned, the briefcase hand coming up to bat away a falling piece of bouncy brown hair, "I thought I had it. Still....recovering from the break."

"It's fine," you smiled. Civil and polite was okay. Anything beyond that and you'd be buffering like a bad internet connection. You shuffled a sheet, pretending to look busy even as he remained at the door.

His stress was palpable, you could feel the tension and inner turmoil rolling off of him in waves of discomfort. The beautiful, dewy morning vibe you'd carried in from the outside melted away like snow under a boiling hot summer sun with each and every moment he stood there.

You sneaked another peek at him, looking puzzled and lost in thought - his brown eyes were wide and dark as he gazed into the ground like it might magically swallow him and spit him out where he needs to be.

"I saw on the Sharepoint that you're in room 23," you called out. He jolted like your tongue was lightening and it had struck him from across the room. Even his hair bounced with the motion, and you felt laughter bubbling in your chest at how away with the fairies he seemed.

"Ah right," he smiles, regaining his sense, he shifts again and prepares to leave. You watch him turn, the muscles in his back flexing from how much he's carrying and trying to balance. But before he can start another battle with the door, he suddenly turns. You look away quickly, but not quick enough that he wouldn't have noticed your stare. If your cheeks heat anymore, you might just burn to ashes right before him.

"That's really....it's good that you check the schedule. I always forget," his breathy voice sounds out and imitates one of awe. But surely something that simple shouldn't be that mesmerising....right?

"Seems like you're doing well here."

"Thank you," you grin. If there's one way to loosen you up, it's praise for your work. Your only passion. Your only hobby. Your only....anything.

He nods, lips thinning into one of those classically awkward British smiles before he turns again and leaves the room. The vibe settles back to how it was before; quiet, mundane in that beautiful early morning kind of way. You felt at ease then but now you just feel a little dull. But the students will be here soon, and that will all be amended.

The first week is far more harrowing than you'd anticipated. The beautiful frosty mornings you'd been so pleased about had crossed the boundary and turned into snow, which was rather inconvenient to drive in, and meant half or more of the students didn't even bother to come in. The sun has barely made an appearance and your coffee machine is broken, so you've been tired all week. But this....has to be the worst of it all.

"Fuck," you mutter, turning the key again, your foot pressed hard on the gas. You don't know what you aim to achieve, if the car won't even ignite, you doubt it will start speeding based on the pressure of your foot alone - but you try nonetheless.

Your hands lay on the wheel, the frost has bitten into your skin enough to turn them that weird blend of red and blue but not quite purple. You can barely feel them but you grip as if your life depends on it.

It's past six and you'd stayed until it had stopped snowing, but that was maybe a bad idea. Now it was pitch black and only one other car remained in the car park, and you had no idea whose it could be. Your apartment was a ten minute drive that stretched into a harrowing thirty minute walk and you didn't have gloves, or a hat to keep you warm. The inches thick snow was bad enough without car trouble to top it all off.

You sat back into the leather seat with a hefty sight, looking up to the felt ceiling like God himself would be plastered across it waiting to comply to your commands.

You were so immersed in the dream that something, anything good would happen - that you didn't register the person approaching your car. As they knocked on the window, you jolted in your seat with a silent scream that had your mouth open wide. You turned almost defensively, only to see that it was Mr. Turner peering through the window. You relaxed, though your quickened breaths were embarrassingly more apparent in the cool air, coming out smoky and obvious to your fear. Nonetheless, you rolled down your window.

"You okay? I saw you were revving out here," he pointed towards the car, the smoke pooling out of the cracks of the bumper indication enough that there was some sort of malfunction.

"Yeah I think the snow has messed it up," you roll your eyes, "but I'll just call AA. Thank you for the concern though."

"It's really cold out here you know," he trembled as if to emphasise that fact, dressed in a red woolly scarf and a matching hat, he almost looked cute if you dare say, "if it's not starting your heating won't work."

"Right....I'll be okay, I'm sure they won't take long!" you were trying to maintain some positivity but if he continued standing there stating the obvious, it wouldn't last very long. The irritation bubbling in your chest kept rising higher and higher, at some point it was going to come spitting out.

"They'll probably be ages," he said, and your lips grew tight, the smile quickly turning into something sinister as you bit your tongue and he continued, "loads of cars will have issues, what with the snow...."

"Thanks Mr. Turner, I'll be fine."

You start to do up your window but he refuses to move his fingers, covered in blood red coloured gloves that differ slightly to the tone of his scarf and hat. You briefly wonder how he could stand something so imperfect. It wouldn't be hard to just...get the same colour, would it? Distracted enough, you miss his next comment. When you come back to as he softly calls your name, you catch his downturned warm-toned eyes that mean to make you melt.

"Come and get in my car while you wait."

"Oh....no it's fine," you wave off, "like you said, they'll be ages so I wouldn't....it wouldn't be right for you to be, you know, waiting around for ages."

He smiled, tiny lines forming with the crinkle of his skin from the motion. You try to ignore the warmth in it, the way your heart pounds beneath your ribcage. It's ridiculous really, you don't even really like him. Or know him, even. But despite that, he's attractive. You're just a woman, after all.

"It's fine love," he says, his northern accent somehow amplifying the cosiness of the scene, you suddenly feel like you're in some rom-com and he's the sexy hunk to save the day. Or this could be a horror movie and he's the weird virgin who murders you in his car. Either way.

"Promise I have nowhere to be. Don't want you freezing up out here."

"I can order a taxi-"

"Miss Richards," he cuts you off, his voice parallel to a whine of some sort, making your lips upturn and your heart palpitate, "it really is no bother. Even if you order a taxi, please do it in my car. It's bloody freezing arguing with you out here!"

You laugh, finally agreeing. He waits for you at the passenger side while you grab your phone and keys. When you reach him, you note how prepared he's come for the occasion. He almost looks like some Slovenian war hero, with his fluffy hat and thick velvet coat, the neckline big and furry, swallowing his small figure whole. But despite how lean he is, he still stands a few inches taller than you. The biggest thing about him has to be his presence alone, the way you feel your knees weaken and your ankles wobble just being near him and that criminally watchful gaze.

"Just that one...." he points to the only car and you bite back a sarcastic comment. He is being nice after all, and you wouldn't want to push your luck. A week ago you wouldn't have put it past him to leave you shivering out here in nothing but a g-string. But maybe his first impression wasn't all he was. Maybe you should give him a chance to redeem himself as a good colleague.

His car is vintage and smells like leather and old spice. Unlike your car where you have gum, old pennies and hairbands in your cup holder area, Alex's is bare of anything. The car is spotless to the point you don't even want to put your shoes on the mat of the passenger seat, just in case a flicker of dirt comes off and ruins the otherwise perfect suede. You even debate asking him if he'd like you to take them off entirely but decide against it when you remember the pink polka dot coloured socks you'd hastily shoved on this morning. Definitely not the best look.

The only thing that alluded to any personality was a little monkey hanging on the rear view mirror. It was caramel brown and swung with every small movement that was made in the car. The label still clung to its ear, stating its rather cheap price. You had the urge to poke it, catching sight of its smiling stitched face, but you felt his eyes on you and refrained from such a childish act.

"By the way my name is Alex," he said, fiddling with the heating. The sound blares through the car, loud and obnoxious to the conversation he'd clearly been trying to create. You giggle and he blushed, hiding his own smile as he turns it down a little. It still buzzes in the background but at least now you can hear yourself think and you're warm.

"Samantha," you hold your hand out, he takes it. His own are warm, not that you can feel his skin directly as he still has them stupidly thick, offensively red gloves on. He pulls them off swiftly after you drop hands.

A tension fills the car soon after. Alex looks before him rather than at you, while you try to sort out a car service on your phone. But the website alone says they're overridden with requests and unless it's urgent, they likely won't get to it till tomorrow. You sigh, your head rolling back against the rest. This is not how you wanted to spend Friday night.

"I'm going to book an Uber, seems as if they won't be able to prioritise this until tomorrow morning."

"Right...." Alex swallows, watching you open the app and search for an Uber. They don't come frequently around these parts despite it being a university. The town you live in is small, more of a village and the outskirts are where the university sits. The taxi drivers would've booked off the night and Ubers could take hours. You're clearly worried about that, the prominent frown on your brow and your lip caught between your teeth would say so, but your eyes remain reassured when you glance at him.

"I could drive you home."

"Oh no....its okay," you wave off.

"Right," Alex puts his key in the ignition, not giving you another moment to protest, another word to bounce back. He's not leaving you out here in the cold, alone just so some weirdo can drive you home for triple the usual price, when his car is perfectly fine and you're much safer with him. It's logical in both of your minds, yet he never feels the need to express it and you don't argue.

"What were you doing around so late anyway?" Alex sparks up a conversation a minute into the drive. You'd been pondering out of the window about the cost of service and your probably damaged car. Upon hearing his voice you glance to him, his eyes darting to yours and back to the road quickly, as if he's embarrassed to even be talking.

"Trying to ignore the worst of it," you admit, "but that seems to be useless. Never again."

He chuckles, "you're from the south right?"

"Right...."

"Probably not that used to the snow are you?"

"Not really. I'm from London, so....just grey....rain....you know."

"Mhm."

"What about you?" your question comes after a few moments of silence, where his observation creates a space to overthink in your brain. Of course, your accent is very southern, unlike his and the rest of the people around you who are all northern. It's not like he's found out some top secret piece of information and yet your brain....your built in romanticism, finds something endearing about him noticing.

"Pretty used to it these days, always snows in here so...."

"No I mean what were you doing here?" you chuckle, his mouth falls open in a little laugh at the misunderstanding and for the first time in his presence, you relax.

"Oh right....well I like working in peace. When no one is there. Helps me focus."

"You do it often?" you're intrigued. You've only ever seen him rushing around, his hair messy, papers in his hands, expression conveying nothing but panic. You can't imagine him in peace....not at all.

"Mhm."

He makes it clear that's the most you're getting out of him. As you pull up to your road, you breathe a sigh of relief. The apartment building that usually makes you squirm in the daylight, in all its grey, blocky glory - has never looked so inviting. You can practically feel the warmth of the shower, the soft linen of your sheets, the feathers caressing your head in your pillow.

"Thank you Alex," you say when he pulls over, the car coming to an abrupt halt. The streets are empty and the sky is jet black, yet the world looks bright and wonderful with the pristine white snow covering the usually cracked and dull pavements. Even if you can't stand the snow sometimes, you have to admit that it's beautiful.

"Okay."

You smile, feeling your skin prickle from the awkwardness. A beat passes before you even move and you even ponder asking him in for a tea to warm him up. But his agitated expression suggests he's ready to leave and you fear the suggestion of your words might lead him to get ideas. So instead you thank him again before leaving the car, your bags a burden to bear as you try to navigate through the snow in high heeled boots without making an utter fool of yourself.

The snow clears up by Monday but your car, unfortunately, is still in the garage. The technician had waffled on about something being wrong with the oil, and you'd all but waved it off and told him to call you when it was done.

That meant this morning you had to get the bus to the university. You felt like some adolescent stood at the bus stop, your bags heavy on your tired shoulders, your heels hurting despite it only being minutes into the day. The sky was grey and the drizzle of rain that consistently fell fooled you into thinking you wouldn't need a coat. But it was that annoying rain that dampened your body quickly without you even noticing. Before long you were shivering, wet and feeling sorry for yourself as you awaited the only bus of the hour - running twenty minutes late, might you add.

You're near enough ready to cry when a car pulls up to the bus stop. It's familiar but you don't recognise it at first. It had been dark the last time, you'd not taken any notice of the tanned colour of it. But it seemed fitting nonetheless, that when the window would roll down, behind it would be Alex.

"I'm guessing your car isn't fixed?"

"Nope," you smile at him, crossing your arms over your chest to hide the outline of your bra. Because yes, you wore a white shirt and the rain had made it transparent. It had been so long since you'd had to walk anyway, or stand in the rain voluntarily, that you hadn't even thought about the repercussions.

"Jump in," he nodded to the passenger seat. You couldn't help but wonder if this was his usual route. You'd never seen his car before, one you'd surely remember for its uniqueness. But you shook away those thoughts at the same time as shaking your head in response.

"Oh no, don't worry I'm sure-"

A heavy sigh left his lips, his eyes growing dull with boredom as he thinned them at you, "are we going to do this every time? Just get in Samantha."

It was the first time you'd heard your name roll off his tongue, in that slurred northern accent. You nearly shivered, this time not from the damp staining your veins, but from the bass of it reverberating through you. The way it rolled off his tongue seemed precise, practised, as if he'd been saying it, regarding you, his whole life. It was such a silly thing to get het up over and yet you felt the bulbs of your cheeks grow hot, the tips of your fingers tingle. And if it weren't for his words, you'd probably rush to the passenger side anyway, just to hide the blush you were sure would be forming.

"I promise I'm not usually this unorganised," you reassured him as if you owed it to him, pulling the seatbelt over your frame and wrapping your coat further around you to avoid flashing him the pretty lingerie you had on beneath the now useless shirt.

"Mhm."

He said that a lot.

It was starting to grate on you. What did it mean? Did he just not want to speak to you? Or was it something else? Something teasing? If he didn't want to speak to you, surely you must seem pathetic enough to pick up on the side of the road and then not even bother having a conversation with. The thought made you cringe, you didn't bother saying another word.

He pulled up to the university and you crawled out of the car, trying to regain some semblance of order to what had quickly become a mess of your morning. You thanked him with nothing more than a civil smile before proceeding ahead, looking at the same trees on the way that you'd been in awe of the other day - but they just looked thin and dull now. The students that you'd been excited to see buzzing around the corridors with unmatched ambition now just got in your way and made you huff all the more. Your hands remained cold without your coffee warming them up. And the slippery varnish wood of the floor seemed more like a hazard than something to appreciate. It was hard to keep positive when everything seemed to be going wrong, and you couldn't get anything right. Not even a conversation.

Your car was fixed by Tuesday morning, which you were extremely grateful for. You'd practically ran to get the bus on time the evening prior, if only to avoid another tense silence with Alex, who clearly hated you. You'd seen him in the hallway twice yesterday and tried to offer a smile but he merely looked through you like you didn't exist, like all he could see before him was a blank canvas, no substance, nothing valuable.

It annoyed you to no end, but today was an open day and you wouldn't let it dampen your spirit enough to put the possible future students off. It was you and Alex representing your course. Him the classical literature, you the modern. You stood on different tables with the programmes laid before you. You'd added some cakes and university themed badges to your table, and the cloth you'd put underneath represented the colours of the school. Alex just had the programmes and forgot to even get a cloth. But meticulously placed beside the programmes, was one singular book.

Pride & Prejudice.

Maybe that's why he was so....pretentious. He reads pretentious literature. You should have known. You secretly love that book but who flaunts it like it's some kind of success to be aware of such a classic. You scoff internally, leaning back in your seat ready to welcome the students.

They pile in and take their interests, you can't help but wonder how Alex could possibly be any good at representing something. And yet....he gets far more attention than you. You get a few stragglers, more interested in the cookies than your pitch and their eyes growing glassy with each and every word that left your lips. Alex got lingering students with bright eyes, all ears and all he had to offer were passages from a depressing novel. What the fuck!

You were fuming. Had you of been a cartoon, smoke probably would've been pouring from your ears as you packed your things away, a mere few programmes from your pile of twenty gone. You slammed one on top of the other with a loud smack sounding out across the otherwise silent room. Everybody else had left bar the two of you, you remained ignorant to his gaze even if it lingered for several moments.

"The problem...."

You jolt again. He loves to do that when you least expect it. When you're finally finding some peace, or even just wallowing in self pity like now - he just needs to fill the space with something unwarranted. Your expression sours as you continue your movements, but he seems intent on having you listen, moving over to the edge of the table, close enough that you can smell that familiar scent of old spice, mixed with something unique....some sort of fruity washing powder and a hint of smoke. It was him. The same scent his car had, he carried around. It wasn't unpleasant but in light of your annoyance it felt suffocating, it felt like a point to be proven and you weren't in the mindset to deal with self-righteousness or broken conversations.

"The problem is that you're too enthusiastic," he sighs, his hand sprawling out over the programme to halt your pace. You look up at him through thick, black coated lashes with a glint in your eye that he ignores for now, "these are kids. They're seventeen. They know that their lectures aren't going to be jam packed with fun. It's best to be real with them, tell them it will be hard but it also will be worth it."

"I didn't-"

"It's not fun Samantha. No one finds school fun. They aren't stupid," the disappointment blending with condescension, makes your skin crawl and your head thump. You're going red for an entirely different reason now, your knuckles turning white from how hard you're gripping the thick card of the programmes, ready to tear it up, ready to start a fight.

"I found school fun," you weakly protest, anything else coming up short when your eyes meet and his swirl with something you can't decipher. Maybe it's sorrow. Maybe he really does think you're stupidly naive and far too happy for realness in this world. Regardless, it rids you of your own ability to speak.

Alex scoffs, "yes well, that doesn't surprise me. You seem like a good girl."

You don't know whether he intends for it to sound so....suggestive but the silence that follows makes it appear that way and yet he never tries to fill it. Instead, he continues staring into you, gauging your reaction to the cheekiness behind that sentence.

"Why don't you like me?"

You splutter it out before you can stop yourself. The teasing glint in Alex's eyes disappears and his hand drops from the table, where the tip of his finger had been dancing just seconds prior. You want him to be playful again, but you can't waste time chatting to someone who constantly makes you feel like a nuisance.

"Sure I like you," his voice runs an octave higher, the classic signs of a lie. He avoids your eye, his hair hiding his own as he bows his head, fiddling with his hands like a toddler in trouble. You raise your eyebrows and cross your arms with a newfound confidence you know won't last long.

"It doesn't seem like it."

"Well....I don't know what to....what do you want me to say?" he stumbles over his words, his usual persona of a hard done by, socially awkward professor coming back into play before you've even drawn a breath.

"I just....you always say 'mhm', like you don't care what I'm saying. And at the mixer you didn't want to talk to me. And at the-"

"I think you're pretty."

"What?"

You gawped at him, your jaw practically on the floor. It was such a sudden, rushed bunch of words that it took you about a minute to comprehend they'd left his mouth. He stood, staring at you, his cheeks a rosy pink and his eyes shifty. You could tell he hadn't really expected to say it either, his chest that had been rising and falling steadily, now was heaving quickly. His eyes were as wide as ever but filled with fear, the fear that he'd overstepped, clearly.

"I....er....yeah...."

"You think that I'm pretty?" you repeat, more so to yourself. Alex grimaces, his head falling into his open palms with a groan that feels realer than anything he's ever done.

"Alex...."

"Yeah...." he lifts his head up, now glowing a deep red. You feel bad for him but a little part of you, okay, a huge part of you, is also flattered by his admission. The brashness of it somehow makes it feel more valuable, as if he couldn't help but say those words. As if he was willing to embarrass himself in order to prove that he liked you, because he didn't know how else to do so.

"Yeah....I'm sorry," he shook his head, his eyebrows fading into his eyes as he frowned, one big brown blob of annoyance, you assume at himself, "that was....I probably shouldn't have...."

You remain silent. In some ways you want to watch him squirm, it's doing wonders for your ego seeing him be the one fumbling for words. In other ways, you simply don't know what to say. Should you say you think he's pretty too? Or would that seem inauthentic now that he's just admitted it? Should you kiss him? Does it even mean he wants that or is it just an observation?

"Fuck," he hissed to himself, "I'm gonna go."

"Wait - Alex!"

But he was already gone, scurrying out of the room in a blur of black and white and brown. The door slammed shut behind him and amplified the silence, it bounced off the walls and made your ears ring, but you were now entirely in your head. You glanced around as if you'd been floating in space throughout the whole interaction, realising now that there were still things to do around here. He'd left behind some programmes and a few papers, but nothing that looked important. Still, if it gave you a reason to speak to him tomorrow, it was worth taking. With a sigh, you packed everything away, knowing full well you'd barely sleep with that admission so prominent in your mind.

The next day, you can tell he's avoiding you. Even if he doesn't speak to you usually, you see him in the corridors frequently. You work in the same sector. Sometimes you'll be making a coffee and he'll be at the table, mindlessly crunching on cereal. Other times you'll brush past him when you're both rushing to classes. Sometimes you catch him taking out books in the library when you are. But today....no sign of him at all. And you know he's in, because you would be his cover if he wasn't.

By lunchtime, you can't hold back any longer. You'd spent all night thinking about his words, just like you'd anticipated. You thought he was good looking too, but he barely spoke to you and this wasn't primary school. Either he just thought it and it ended there, or he should make more effort. But either way, you refuse to tread on eggshells around him just because he spluttered something out like a pimply, awkward teenager.

You hear the faint sound of him calling you in from behind his office door, and as your hand caresses the doorknob, you take a deep breath.

You find him hunched over his desk, one hand scribbling furiously, the other caught in his thick brown waves atop his head, fingers twined with the strands. You couldn't see his gaze but you could already tell by his posture alone that he was tense, and maybe it had nothing to do with you. But you wanted to help nonetheless.

"Alex."

He looked up, your voice raising alarm bells in his mind. He maintained his composure this time, his expression giving nothing away - just a placid, blank canvas that you would have to paint on to get anything valuable out of.

"I think you're fit too."

It wasn't what you had planned to say. You were supposed to sit down, lay down the laws and admit you weren't even sure if this was appropriate at work. But in light of his honey coloured eyes darkening by the second, in light of the cramped space and how you could smell him, how he invaded your senses without even touching you, even looking at you. They had just slipped.

"Right."

"And I guess....maybe you should kiss me."

"Here?"

"Yeah. Here."

Alex nodded and stood. His movements were slow, languid and drawn out. You felt on edge, still pinned to the door like it was your only lifeline. He made his way over to you and it seemed every step he took, his eyes grew darker and his hands became shakier. You backed yourself away from him as if you hadn't just asked for exactly this until there was no further steps to take and he was right in front of you.

"I don't think this is the sexiest way to go about a kiss," Alex muttered, his hand coming out to rest on your jaw. His touch felt sensual, but rough all the same. His thumb was calloused, you wondered why very briefly before your mind short circuited back to the moment. He swiped it over your bottom lip, dragging the supple flesh with it and let it bounce back into place. That sight alone made his own eyes flash with desire. He was getting closer but you were barely noticing it, completely hypnotised by his gaze and how it held yours the whole time.

"We barely know each other," he continued, and yet as your eyes fluttered closed at the start of his words, you felt his voice get closer by the end of them. You could feel his breath, surprisingly steady and warm against your skin, it raised goosebumps along your arms, still hanging uselessly by your side, heavy and uncertain but by no means uncomfortable.

His lips brushed over yours, stealing your breath. You gasped slightly before they became firm, warm against your own and surprisingly soft for a man. At first it was just a peck, a little teaser, a little question of whether this was okay. When you remained still, Alex kissed you again, this time firmer, more demanding.

Your stomach flipped as the desire grew deeper with each passing moment. The kiss intensified quickly, he became more demanding and you succumbed to him, answering him wordlessly. You couldn't match his fervour, but you didn't mind letting him show you the ropes, you hummed into the kiss when he opened up your mouth, his tongue soft and dominant against your own as he pressed against you, your body pinned to the door.

Your senses are overwhelmed by him, your brain clouded of anything but the sensation of him kissing you and the warmth of his taut body against your own. Your hands move on their own accord, fingers trembling to feel him as you let them slide up his sharp shoulder blades and into his hair, thick and soft beneath your fingertips. You bunch it up in your hands, pulling at it softly, eliciting small gasps from him as you tug harder as the kiss grows more heated.

You feel like the room is exploding and you couldn't care less, too engrossed in this moment, the one you hadn't anticipated but revelled in, to care for anything beyond it. At this specific time, the past and the future seemed irrelevant. You only cared about the present, about the feel of him, the weight and warmth of his skin pressing against your own.

His hands found your hips, pulling you further into him, his thumbs pressing hard enough into your midriff to leave bruises. The pleasure far outweighed the pain and you found yourself sighing into his mouth, completely surrendering to him and the moment he'd so effortlessly created. You're lost in him, floating in some blissful haven where nothing really matters. Where he's not your moody co worker, not the short spoken man who drove you home a few times - but this sultry being, completely enticing you into something mind blowing despite it being a mere kiss.

His palms slid up, squeezing your waist and without really thinking, you lifted your leg up over his hip. Even in all the bliss, all the lost judgement - you still felt nervous, your thigh hovering awkwardly at his side until his roughly grabbed it, pulling it so it properly rested on him. His palms slid to over your bum, suddenly propelling you up and against the door and from this angle you could feel the heat of him so much better. Your pin skirt struggled to accommodate him, nearly splitting at the seams.

All his shyness had dissipated as he tugged the skirt up,  letting it rest on your hips so he could feel you better. You could feel his eagerness in his grip, in the intense pressure of his lips on yours.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and thrust your upper body towards his, making him gasp into your open mouth before he caught your bottom lip between his teeth, the subtle pain of them digging into your soft flesh making your eyes disappear into the back of your head.

At some point he'd started walking backwards and you'd landed on the edge of his desk. He had to lean down, it was an awkward angle but you were both too het up to care. His palms slid down the length of your thighs, groping the flesh, his touch determined, his control unwavering. But you wouldn't fight for it anyway and something told you he knew that.

His kisses moved from your lips to your jawline, to your neck, his tongue tracing the curve of your collarbone, your soft, explicit gasps filling the space. It felt like you were the only two people on the planet, the consideration of consequence lost in your mind through the haze of pleasure, of attraction, of need.

He nuzzled his face into your chest, your shirt had pulled down slightly from the hastiness of this all, revealing a slither of cleavage that Alex dipped his tongue into, moaning at the taste of perspiration on your skin. The hand on your thigh started inching inwards, his fingertips dancing up the inside, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You felt like you were reaching feverish temperatures as he lightly scratched his nails against your sensitive inner thigh. Without even realise it, you were bucking your hips, paper caught beneath your bum tearing from your movement but even the sharp sound didn't break the spell between you both.

Your arm caressed the back of him, your face now caught between his shoulder and his neck, lips puckering to leave useless little kisses, little moments of appreciation against his skin. You could taste the saltiness of his sweat, his build up - but you didn't mind. It felt dirty, raw, intimate. Spontaneous. All things that you weren't, and yet, anyone would think you were the expert.

Alex's fingers brushed over your panties, dampened with your arousal. The bottom of your heels dug into his back, leaving indents in his white shirt, another problem for later. Right now, he was too concerned with the feel of you, sticky and warm against his fingertips - to care about something so trivial.

"You're so wet," he spoke, gruff, full of arousal and your head tipped back, catching his eyes. A swirl of brown met a swirl of black, like chocolate and black treacle twining into one sweet, sweet sight.

"Can I?"

You nodded and with a satisfied smirk, Alex moved your lace panties aside, his fingertips finding you wet, sticky, desperate. You couldn't contain the moan that slipped when he pressed into your clit, a little fumbling at first but you were so swollen that he couldn't miss it.

"Shhh," he kissed your neck, his reminder not meant to be stern, you could see that it was enthralling him - your gasps and moans and mutters, it was feeding an ego you didn't realise was there and yet you were more than happy to do so.

Your head tipped back further, neck elongated and gaze fixed to the ceiling when he plunged two fingers into you, using that same, rough calloused thumb to catch on your swollen nerves. His fingers worked in tandem, setting up a steady, unrelenting pace that made you squirm and moan all the same. He started off slow, twisting his knuckles until the heel of his hand grinded into your clit and then he started to move faster.

"Fuck....oh fuck...." Your eyes rolled back and your hands fell behind you with a thump on the desk to steady yourself. There was nothing to grab so you settled with paper, scrunching it up in your hands as the pleasure intensified.

Alex watched you with a curious expression, aware to what you liked within a matter of seconds. He watched your expression carefully, moving into the right spots by the accord of your moans. When he found that special spot, you cried out, a frown forming on your brow and tears piercing the corner of your eyes.

His other hand moved to your mouth, fingertips rubbing against your lips for permission and when you parted them in another moan, he slipped them in. You opened your eyes, meeting his with glaze as you swirled your tongue over his fingertips. His mouth parted in a heavy sigh, fingers moving faster, harder, hitting the spot at a pace your body could barely keep up with.

You were aware of the pleasure and yet lost in it. Usually you had to focus to get there but today he was ripping all your sense away from you and yet the knot grew tighter.

Your legs started to shake, his dark eyes growing wicked as he overwhelmed you.

"Come on darling," he coaxed you on, "come for me."

"Oh....Alex...."

"Mhm...." he teased, a glint in his eyes. You couldn't even be mad, just a small huff of a laugh before he sent you to space again, your vision blurring as he hit that spot, over and over again until it went black.

"Mm that's it....fuck, look at you," he groaned as your clenched around him, growing impossibly tight before you gushed, your body convulsing. The pleasure felt unbearable, you had no control over your muscles twitching or your bones liquifying beneath him.

Alex didn't stop moving until you were spent, breathless and still only just gaining your vision back. You fell back onto your elbows, your face representing the internal bliss. Your orgasm had ceased but you had turned to mush, catching your breath with your eyes glazed over.

"Good?"

You opened your mouth to reply but before you could, a knock sounded out at the door. Your eyes widened, Alex's matched yours and within seconds you had gathered all the papers, ripped or not into your hands while he adjusted himself.

The heat in the room was unmatched, anyone would be able to figure out what had gone on but there was no proof in the matter. Thank God for the invention of waterproof mascara or you would be fucked.

"One moment!" Alex called, before checking around,  clearly alarmed. His nutty professor act switched back on in an instant, no sign of the man who had just given you the best orgasm of your life, no sign of the non verbal moody guy who'd driven you home. No, this was the Alex you knew and loved to hate - panicking, unprepared and disorganised. But you wouldn't complain - not now that you knew he could finger you like that.

He looked to you once everything was in place, and with a sigh of relief and a heart full of content, you nodded.

"Thank you Miss. Richards for your time," he opened the door, the person on the other side a teacher for another faculty stood there with a polite smile and some forms for Alex.

"Thank you Mr. Turner. I'll take these into account."

You winked at him and he suppressed a smile as he welcomed the other person in before shutting the door behind you. You'd dream of his figure behind that door for months to come - you were sure of it.

[chimimon]

Keeping Record

Medical AU - Higuruma x f!Reader

Disclaimer! What you are about to read contains the following: suggestive material! I genuinely cannot think of another tag so I apologize if my air headed-ness missed something major… (-｡-;

& what I have to say is… “Are you writing a fic about that man with that whole beak-” YEAH AND? THAT BEAK PRETTY! If he’s a bird, I’m a bird!? RAH-AH RAH-AH

You have reached the voicemail box of Hiromi Higuruma. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now but please leave a name and number and I will get back to you as soon as I can.

Beep

You hung up the call and stared at your screen. Legal firms of any kind were a pain to deal with, but this one was pushing all the right buttons.

You have reached-

“Okay...” Disappointed? Sure, you were. But never surprised. “No this is great, I’m sure they don’t even want these records.”

A medical assistant slid behind, looking at the medical record request alongside you, scanning it for a date of birth and the dates of service.

“I’m not blind, am I?” The copies were at your nose. Then you examined them at your keyboard, holding it as far down as you could to get another look.

“Hmm. Are they asking if they can release their records to us…?”

“Right?”

They laughed on the way out of your office, visiting your printer to make a colored copy of something. It was small and dim, but you liked to think of it as cozy. Some days it felt more like a closet and even more so now that one of two flat panel light fixtures began to flicker. At this point you were waiting for it to die before asking to have it replaced, because that was the only way they would replace it.

The medical world was fun... sometimes. The workday for medical assistants and nurses heavily depended on the doctors’ attitude, followed by the patient's attitude. But being on the back end of things made it so more people could make or break your shift. Seniority and an excellent work reputation meant you got to train new hires if their leads weren’t in, double check most of the outgoing paperwork, and do all the “fun” insurance things. With that, it wasn’t long before one of the receptionists walked back to grab you.

“Sorry,” they knocked on your open door. “I have someone here asking to speak with medical records?” They were new, and visibly stressed.

“Hey,” you cordially smiled. “You’re good, did they give you a name?”

They made a face and shook their head, “I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask.”

“No, no you’re good.” You reassured them.

When training or speaking to new hires, you did so with empathy. Going to school only meant so much, nothing really prepared you for how differently each clinic ran. You tried so hard to give them the patience and understanding that you never got.

“Just let him know I’ll call them back in second and get their name before you have him sit down.”

They looked relieved with your laxed attitude before running back to the front. After a few minutes you joined them again and were handed a sticky note with a name.

“Higuruma?” You called out to the waiting room.

A dark-haired man, with a slight tan and a brief case stood up. He nodded on his way over. You introduced yourself before leading him back to your office. As you walked pass the nurses station, you nodded, and watched their eyes dart to the man following behind you. It wasn’t often that anyone followed you back anywhere. If it wasn’t a nurse or doctor at your door, it was a patient accompanied by a nurse.

The legal request for records was neatly placed beside your keyboard. You pulled up a chair beside yours, and motioned him to sit.

Higuruma looked as serious as you pictured most lawyers did. It was like playing bingo when you looked at him. Black suit and tie? Check. Briefcase? Check. Polished and shiny dress shoes? Check. The tired look in his eyes and slick back hairdo, which was escaping whatever gel product he used, was like the free space in the middle of the card.

“How can I help you today, Mr. Higuruma?”

“I was asked to visit your clinic to inquire about the subpoena.” Polite and straight to the point, you thought.

“Yes, I apologize in advance, but I have been trying to get ahold of your firm. Can I confirm some contact information with you?”

With the call history on your computer, and the request beside it, Higuruma could immediately see why you were trying to contact them, and just how often you tried to. He apologized for the discrepancy and asked if there was anything else you needed.

“Ah, yeah. So, the doctor your client saw, they’re not comfortable signing anything unless they can speak with someone.”

Higuruma smiled with his brows raised. “I can speak with the doctor today if they have the time.”

You made a face that let him know they weren’t in clinic. “Can we schedule a time they can call? Well, actually it might be best if you come back.”

When it came to legal things or insurances, you mentally prepared for attitude when you couldn’t immediately give the representative what they wanted.

“That’s fine. When will they back in?”

What a relief.

Higuruma offered to provide lunch and set the date for that following Thursday an hour before noon.

“Oh, and before I go,” He paused to unlock his phone “I’m going to give you my personal number. I don’t want to ignorantly disregard your clinic’s needs. But I’m going to ask that my number does not go to anyone else, and that it only stays with you.”

With a nod, you exchanged phones and contact information.

“Hiromi Higuruma,” you read aloud to yourself upon the trade back.

He smiled again as you looked up.

“Oh, sorry.” You cut out his first name on his contact, reading aloud “Mr. Higu-ru-ma…” in a softer voice.

“Hiromi is fine,” the lawyer tone dropped. “The whole ‘Mister’ thing makes me feel old.” He chuckled.

“Oh- okay, Hiromi.” You smiled, scanning him again before offering to guide him out.

With the door leading to the waiting room propped open, he promised to speak with whoever faxed the original form and to bring a new, corrected one on Thursday. When the automatic sliding entry doors closed, the second desk girl looked to you before giggling.

“What?”

“Do you think he’s cute?”

You looked up thoughtfully and then shrugged.

“He looked a lot happier then when he came in.” she sang sweetly.

The newbie that originally grabbed you spoke up. “Yeah. He was smiling just now, and I was kinda worried about how he was gonna treat you back there.”

“And you gave me no warning?” You teased.

The two sheepishly smiled before someone approached their desk. You took it as your sign to leave and return to your desk.

—

The morning before the meeting, Higurumi texted asking what he’ll be picking up for lunch.

You – “Sandwiches are safe.”

Himori – “Allergies?”

You – “Peanuts for the doctor in question.”

Hiromi – “Noted. Anything they or you prefer?”

You really thought about the doctor, and then your manager who would be present, and shook your head.

You – “I’m not even going to guess. I’ll send you their orders in a second.”

Twenty minutes later he received their orders and reconfirmed the dates. You wondered if he was wearing the same black suit, or if his hair was getting loose again.

—

The lunch was embarrassing. Higuruma kept having to repeat himself to the doctor, who in turn kept interrupting him before he could finish saying anything, and your manager didn’t do anything to help. They were just blankly staring and smiling, alternating the combo between the doctor, the lawyer, and yourself. Right before you could thank Higuruma on behalf of the small four-person luncheon, both your team mates had something to say.

“You know as much as I appreciate Mr. Higuruma being here today, I just have no idea why I’m here. Why you didn’t have Legal come in?” Your manager stared at you, and then at Higuruma. “And the request is a few weeks old, which I apologize for, but I mean what have you been doing back there?”

You froze without any idea why this couldn’t wait until the lawyer left. “Well, when I asked Legal, they said this was something you could look over and-”

“When?”

You blinked slowly. “When I set the date with Mr. Higuruma.”

“I mean it’s a silly record request.” The doctor chimed in. “It seems to me if you just read the forms, and worded things better, maybe I would’ve understood and been more than happy to sign sooner.”

All you could do was stare, as they blamed their stupidity on you.

Higuruma seemed taken aback and annoyed. What was worse was you couldn’t tell if it was directed at you or them. But the ordeal wouldn’t end if you tried to fight them on this, so you surrendered like most people do and apologized to the room. “I don’t mean to waste yours, or my own teams time.” You bowed to Higuruma from across the table, ignoring the theatrically loud sigh that just left your manager.

When you looked up, Higuruma seemed confused as he bowed back. “No, the mistake started on my end. Really this whole ordeal is on my firm.” He stood up now to shake your manager’s and doctor's hand. “I apologize for inadvertently dragging this simple request out for your clinic, staff and my own client.” He bowed again.

“This isn’t on you pal,” the doctor patted his shoulder as he left the break room.

You felt too sick to finish your food and got up to put whatever you couldn’t stomach in the fridge. “Oh, and uh,” your manager peeped their head back into the breakroom. “Make sure the man gets his records before he leaves, m’kay?” You nodded with the most professionally pissed off smile before grabbing a water bottle and leading Higuruma back to your office.

The clacking of keys seemed louder than normal, and you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything until you hit print. “There are quite a few pages, so it might be a while. I can bring it to your office since your firm is fairly close.”

“Today?”

“Yes...”

“On your own? Are they going to make you drive yourself?”

“Yeah?” You didn’t know where he was going with this.

“They reimburse for gas, right?”

You looked at the clock, it was 12:30, but you knew your manager was going to find a way to make sure you don’t get paid for what they believe is your screw up. They might even try to say you got a long lunch so it was only fair.

“They should.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

Higuruma thought about it, then got comfortable beside you with his briefcase on the table and his legs widely crossed. “I’m okay to wait.” He pulled out a laptop. “If that’s okay with you.”

You nodded before going back to your computer.

Page 045/462 is printing…

Higuruma kept his distance but you could see his forearms from the corner of your eye.

When did he take off his suit jacket?

Then your gaze fell to his lap, another pair of black suit pants, but you could see the feint lines that made them corduroy.

“You’re only ten minutes from our clinic. Are you sure?”

Higuruma nodded with his chin on his fist. He hadn’t looked at you but you were now tracing his profile with your gaze. He still looked tired and laxed. Something about his demeanor and suit was doing messing to your line of thought. You tilted your head and thought to make small talk while you had him. Then you stopped after remembering he looked tired, and might only want to respond to yes or no questions.

Page 176/462 is printing…

The printer was warming the cramped space and your cardigan had to come off. After placing it on your chair you made it to the window. “May I?” You looked over your shoulder. He nodded again but did not turn away when you had to open the window. The way you stood on your tippy toes, without the cardigan, made it so your scrub top hugged your waist with a little drama. He consciously turned away before you caught him.

Page 176/462 is printing…

At your desk, you recalled that he hadn’t ate while you four talked, so you opened a drawer and grabbed out one of those too-sweet-to-be-healthy granola bars. “Sorry, this is all I got.”

The bar slid over to him and Higuruma thanked you before immediately tearing into it. His apparent hunger made you feel guilty for not trying to harder convince him to leave. “I can grab you some lunch, you know, for keeping you here.”

He laughed before turning to face you. “Everything was on me, so don’t worry about it. Besides, I think there are a couple more things I can apologize for. You know, after that.”

“Pardon?”

“Doctors and higher ups in medical can get a little jaded, so I’ve noticed.” He folded his arms and you were immediately staring at them.

“They mean well.” It sounded like you were trying to convince yourself of it.

“Oh, I’m sure they do.” He shook his head. “I’m sure that’s why I have to defend them most the time.”

You smiled at his understanding. You felt less embarrassed about luncheon and lifted your brows. “My offer on lunch still stands.”

He looked up at the ceiling and noticed the flickering light. “That’s nice, but all I’d want from you is to join me. I’d like to pay.” He grinned.

“Can you just do that?” You thought he meant with a company card.

“With my card and on my lunch, yeah I can.”

“Oh, you don’t have to make time in between work for me.”

“Well…” he uncrossed his legs and leaned in. “I guess lunch can be kinda hard for me, so how about we do dinner instead?” It wasn’t clear when he started flirting but that made your stomach drop.

Page 387/462 is printing…

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Not while I’m on business. But can I properly ask when I’m off the clock.” He cheekily smiled.

Your print job is completed

You handed Higuruma a fresh stack of warm paper, and again walked him out. “I’ll message you around 6,” he said too close to front desk.

You didn’t notice those two were grinning past your own anxious excitement.

—

The following Thursday rolled around, and just as you were headed to the bathroom to get changed, a doctor dropped a stack of papers on your desk.

“What’s this?”

“Prior authorizations. I need these done before Friday morning.”

“This Friday or next?”

“This Friday. Please.”

“Where did your assistant go?” You leaned back looking past the doctor and out your door. No one at the nurse's station.

“It’s just you, but even then, he’s been looking forward to some date he’s got tonight, so...”

Nice. Super nice.

“Got it.” You said flatly, unwilling to hide the tinge of annoyance in your tone.

You called Higuruma to cancel. He insisted on bringing something over and lied about making a big reservation after you offered to cover any fees for it.

“Just name your favorite spot, or better yet I can wait for you to finish.”

“Higuruma this is going to take a second, you don’t have to do that.” The stack of papers looked daunting, but after flipping through it was just three procedures with a lot of notes to fax.

“I want to.” He hummed

“Well, I can open the door for you if you come through the back.”

“Can you do that for me?”

“Strangely enough, yes I can.”

“Okay,” He sighed with relief. “I’ll see you in 20.”

As soon as he hung up you locked your office door to get changed. It felt a little silly but if you were going to have a date in your office, you were going to be dressed up for it.

Five minutes passed and it felt like an hour. The hold music was nothing short of goofy, and you were looking forward to seeing him. You wondered what he was wearing, if he was going to be in a suit or if suits felt like a work uniform to him and would dress down when getting dressed up. Then you wondered what dressing down meant, if it was another button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, grey slacks or if he would wear a more relaxed pleated pair of pants. What kind of belt would he wear? Would his shirt button be undone? If so, how many?

An insurance agent cut through your train of thought, and the first prior auth was complete. You checked your phone and saw that Higuruma was on his way but that text was sent twenty minutes ago and now you were feeling nervous. In the middle of being on hold for the second company, Higuruma called saying that he was there.

You ran back, opened the door, walked him back, and forgot the hold music was on speaker.

“Interesting song choice.” He teased.

“I- no wait.” You took the phone off speaker and nervously chuckled before the second agent answered. With one more left you dialed the last insurance line and began to press all the options. While on hold you pushed out your hand with a pinky extended. “You’ve gotta promise me something.” You felt self-conscious of the blatant disregard to health privacy laws switch your date in the room.

“Pinky promises?” He raised a brow.

“You have to promise to pretend this is work related if anyone from the clinic calls to ask why you were here, and that you don’t repeat anything I say to the agent.”

Higuruma snorted and nodded. He kissed his thumb, extended his pinky, and locked it with yours. “Seal it with a kiss.” he toyed. Although it felt silly, you did as he said and it filled your stomach with butterflies.

This last Insurance company was taking their sweet time answering. You put the hold music back on speaker and reached out for your plate of food. You slid closer to him, thanking him for dinner before the first bite.

“So,” You immediately caught his attention. “Is our pinky promise legally binding then?”

“Well, it’s technically me giving you my word, so yes.” Smiling at his fork he said “It is for me.”

His sleeves were rolled up again, but he was wearing a form fitted black mock neck, with a pair of olive-green pleated pants. As he ate, you eyed his wrist watch, and thought it had to be white gold. But even more eye catching than his watch were subtle but protruding veins that lined from his wrist to his pushed sleeve. Higuruma noticed your gaze.

“You like what you see?” He murmured.

“Do I like what-? Oh!” The music stopped and you quickly grabbed the phone to finish the last prior auth.

Higuruma took this opportunity to get an eyeful of his date. You were wearing a black satin dress that had been showing off your legs since you sat down. Before you took the call, when you had faced each other, Higuruma’s attention had been caught by the cowl neck of the dress but he only allowed himself to look for a second. You just looked too tempting to just be taking a call. To be in an office alone with him. As you were finishing up, Higuruma snuck up behind you, with his hand landed on yours as your cursor hovering over the end call button.

“No that’s all. You too. No, no thank you.” Before the agent could wish you a good night, Higuruma hung up the call. You turned around in your chair stunned that he was also towered over you. “What if I wasn’t finished?”

“Were you not?”

“Mr. Higuruma, are all lawyers as cocky as you are? Or as flirty?” If you could call what you were feeling butterflies, there were a roost and they were moving up your chest. Your eyes moved from his down to the arms that trapped you in. As you stood up, he moved back. “Hiromi?”

He folded his arms again and leaned against a shelf behind him. “Not that I know of.” Higuruma hid his mouth behind his palm, closed his eyes and sighed. “I apologize, but-” A dress shouldn’t be able to do that much, he thought. No, it was a scrub top, or maybe it was just you? “I promise I’m usually more composed.”

If it wasn’t for you playing with the slit on the thigh of your dress, he would’ve never noticed that little detail. “You are?”

Higuruma dropped his arms and approached you. “May I?”

You nodded.

As he began to slowly and softly entangled you in a kiss you kept pulling back, forcing him to follow you against the edge of your desk. You kept leaning back, sensing him trapping you between his arms as he leaned on the table.

“Sweetheart,” hot breath tickled your lower lip. “Let me close, please?” His dilated eyes pleaded alongside his voice. But his hands seemed to be a little less polite as they grabbed you by your hips, lifting you onto your desk while holding you still. When he felt like you were trying to move back again his hand quickly switched positions.

Composed was a funny thing to be with one hand on your bare thigh, the other keeping you still while he licked your bottom lip.

Higuruma’a neck guided every kiss and if his hair had been intact when he came in, it for certain was not now. The smooth pomade coated your fingers as you combed through. Occasionally you would tug forward, pushing him back in an attempt to catch your breath. The lack of air in his all-consuming kiss made you dizzy, and overly aware of your heart racing, pounding in your head as his tongue tasted yours.

The crease in between your thigh and hip felt the dull office air as Higuruma’s hand ran further up completely exposing your leg. That same hand trailed down your thigh to push you open at the knee, while his other hand snaked around your waist to pull you flush against him. After you wrapped your legs around his waist, you finally pulled away from his kiss to dive into his neck. You kissed up to his cheek, quickly pecked him, and then dipped back down to suck the skin near his collar bone. The pressure made him groan.

“Hiromi,” you sang against his neck.

Higuruma looked too dazed to realize he had lifted you off the table in the heat of the moment and was holding you in his arms. “Where’s your composure Hiromi?”

Visible warmth spread across his face as he came back from reality. Higuruma let you down. But he let his hand slide up your side and back down your arm to hold your hand. He kissed your knuckle and laughed. “And yours?”

At some point one of the panel lights went out within his indulgence, and you had not clocked out, so you quickly clicked around, logged out, and grabbed your bag.

“Let me take you home.” Higurumi was fixing his hair and lifting his collar. He also shamelessly watched as you fixed your dress, grinning.

© 2024 chimimon

[captainlondonman]

Workie Big Jim

WORKIE  BIG JIM to J-BOI

What the hell is going on outside the front door? James looked through the window and saw 2 young guys setting up bollards in a square on the pavement outside

‘I’ve not had any notifcation for works to be done.’

As he looked out there were two guys both in their 20.s in full Hi Viz gear wearing white helmets and orange kit. One had a really good bod and knew it wearing tight trousers so he showed off a tight arse. He had a tight fitting T shirt on showing the full 6 pack and protruding nipples, making sure his waistcoat was open for all to see. He was unshaven, a good dark stubble and tanned. One arm was full of tats and he had gold earrings in both ears and a ciggie droping down from his lips. As he turned so James could see his cock pushing out from the tight confines.  His head was shaved and gleaming.

Sex on legs but a mouthy son of a bitch by the look of things

The other guy was shorter and a good rugby build with hairy arms and shaved head. He was wearing dirty camos and high rigger boots. He kept wiping his nose on his cuffs. A dirty little bugger James thought

Even if James was annoyed at seeing them outside his house, he found his cock twitching at the sight of the lads.

Nothing to beat a dirty workie  he thought. Christ I don’t why but the sight of these dirty young guys in Hi Viz always gets me horny . I can’t stop dreaming of being a mucky workie and having a good fuck with these guys. As he stared at them so his hand went down to his dick and started rubbing . Shit I love Hi Viz gear he said as his cock started tenting big time in his trousers. Christ I have to have a wank and they wont be able to see me getting my rocks off.

With that he took his good 6 incher out with its thick head and started to rub himself. That cocky one really gets me so horny he said watching the young lad bend over showing the tight arse. What I would do with that he said but knowing full well he never would which made his excitement even more. His hand groped his dick and he slid his sweaty hand up and down his shaft faster and faster working his thick head wet with precum. Oh God I’m coming as he shoved his head back and his cum spurted all over the wall under the window.

James showered and washed off all the excess spunk that had run down his legs Time to get to work. As he walked out the cocky lad looked over at him and winked.

‘What are you guys doing right in front of my house.’

‘What the fuck does it look like. Digging a hole mate, electrical problems. Can you not see what it says on the back of my coat.’

‘I only asked’ James said

‘And I only told you’ was the reply.

‘Have you not any foreman’ asked James

‘Nope, he buggered off, its just Jake and I, ain’t it Jake?’

‘Sure thing, Wayne but we reckon we know what were doin’

‘I certainly hope so’ James said somewhat arrogantly

‘Christ man can you not take a joke. A bit strung up ain’t you?’

‘How long is this going to take?’

‘As long as we feel like. Looks a good job for us with no one in charge so a good few cups of tea and breaks plus of course our ciggies, a good week I’d say. Wayne gave James another wink as as he did so he let his hand run down the shaft of his cock making sure that James saw the full length of his dick.

James realized that Wayne was a bloody  troublemaker just baiting so decided to go off to the office without any more to say.

‘You know mate you’d be better off as one of us workies. A fucking better life than stuck in an office.’

Sitting on the bus James kept thinking what Wayne had said about being a workie and the idea of being one working along side Jake and Wayne in full Hi Viz gear made his cock rigid under his briefcase. Christ I’d be so horny working with them I’d never get any work done he joked to himself.

When he got home the two blokes had left. During the night he could not take his mind of Wayne’s arse in those Hi Viz trousers and those tats and dirt and the shaved head. He kept waking up with a raging knob on but decided not to wank as he was waiting to see the two of them the next day.

He remembered waking up early because the doorbell rang. He went to open and on the doorstep was a bag, no one there. What the hell is this?

Might as well open he thought and as he unzipped he caught sight of bright orange HI Viz clothing.

Someone must have left this but I didn’t see yesterday evening.

As he put his hand in the bag he stroked the gear and felt his cock harden.

I’ve got to look at this. He took out everything and laid it out on the table. There were a pair of thick rigger boots well used and filthy with the leather on the toe caps worn so he could see the metal. A pair of yellow socks with holes in the toes. a pissed stained worn jockstrap, A pair of mucky Hi Viz trousers with a thick belt, a ripped T shirt stained with dirt and snot, a waistcoat and helmet.

They are all much too big for me he thought sadly but he leant over the table and started smelling everything. Christ the socks are stinking with a real cheesy feet smell. It’s as though they’ve never been washed. The T shirt smelt of BO and dirt and as for the jockstrap it really smelt of piss and fresh piss at that full of yellow stains. As he stroked the jockstrap there were hard sections which he could see were of dried cum. The smell of it all as he rubbed his hands over the clothing had him so worked up he thought he might cum, his cock was already oozing precum.

‘Just looking at all this is making me so horny I’ve got to try it on even if it is too big, I just want to feel all this dirt and piss against me.’

He picked up the jockstrap and started rubbing it over his face. He wanted to cover himself with the smell of stale piss. He rubbed it over his nose and over his eyes then started stuffing it into his mouth until he was almost gagging with the smell but the more he stuffed in the more the precum appeared on the tip of his cock. With the jockstrap now moist from his spit he put on the jockstrap knowing it was far too big. As he pulled it up his legs so he suddenly felt dizzy and different. His legs started growing not just in height but width, they were bloody chunky legs with big muscles and his soft downy leg hair changed, thick dark hair started sprouting all over his legs even across the top of his feet. He pressed his stiff cock into the jockstrap and the outline changed. What was just a normal erect dick strained so much as the cotton he thought is would burst. It was a monster tool and thick as his arm scarcely able to be contained. Black curly pubic hair suddenly was growing all around sideways, upwards like a bloody gorilla,. His waist had expanded and the elastic was straining around his waist. The colour of his skin had changed from pinky white to a dark tan which with so much hair he could hardly see.

James could not understand but he knew he had to continue getting into the gear. He next put on the socks, dirty stinkin and his toes were popping through the end he must be a size 12 at least what had happened to his size 8.He lifted the Hi viz trousers and thought they were much too big for him but as he dragged them up his leg they started to feel tight. He could hardly get them over his pouch so hard was his big cock. He pushed them over and they felt so tight across his arse but as he looked down so his stomach started to change and push out. Not just a little but one hell of a lot. He had a bloody great beer belly and the hair from his pubes was rapidly speading up over the top of his trousers. As he tied his belt so his belly spread out over. He lifted the T shirt and smelt the armpits. God they stank of sweat, and there was a rip down part of the front. As he put it over his head he felt his arms ache and his chest tense. Looking more carefully his arms had expanded to reveal hard muscle he knew he never had and not just muscle but Tattoos all the way down both arms and yet more thick black hair. Christ it looked so bloody macho. The hair moved over his shoulders and he could feel it moving down both back and front. He seems like a bloody gorilla His chest seemed to blow out, the belly more pronounced and a big pair of hairy tits. The rip in the T shirt meant that one of his tits was poking through showing a big juicy nipple with a thick steel ring. As he went to put on the Hiviz waistcoat his arm brushed his face. Where was all that smooth skin of his, instead he took his thick nicotined fingers over a big bushy beard and up to a shaved head.. Only one thing left, his helmet. It looked miles too big but as he brought it down it was the perfect size , he head had expanded so much.

However the biggest change was when the helmet was fully on. James suddenly felt a strong rush of blood running round his entire body. His brain felt fried. He put his hands up to his face and shouted not in his well spoken soft voice  but in a strongly accented deep tone.

‘I’m fucking Big Jim and where are those fucking skivers. Time someone fucking told them who’s Boss and its me. Time they make it up as I’m needing a fucking shag.’

With that he opened the door and Wayne and Jake were sitting with ciggie in hand  and no sign of any tools.

‘What the fuck do you two think your doing. I hate fucking skivers. Get the hell in here now.’

Wayne could not believe what he saw but both were so surprised they stood up speechless and went inside.

‘So you’s think that jus because I’m no with yos you can do whit you like. Well I’ll tell you I’m the one who gives the orders not fucking you. And its lucky for you that I’m feeling fucking horny so no docking of wages but time to keep me happy and shoot a load.’ Big Jim shouted and belched rubbing his hand down the length of his cock

‘That’s a fucking monster you’ve got there Jim and I can see its already rock hard the way its tenting.’

‘Too fucking right and see that arse of your’s boy well that’s where its going. And don’t tell me you don’t like big cock. ‘

‘No way Big Boy’

With that Big Jim grabbed Wayne from the back and yanked him back bringing his bushy bearded face against Wayne. I told you what I’m doing and you do nothing but agree. Right got that?

Jim sent a big gob of spit into Wayne’s face.

‘OK mate sure thing’

Still holding Wayne by the collar with one hand  Big Jim yanked open Waynes flies and pulled down his HI Viz . As he did so, Wayne’s erect cock sprang up.

‘No way you say? That stiff dick of yours is telling me something else. A good size boy and any dick as stiff as this wants a fuck. So bend over now.

And as for you Jake stop staring and rubbing your crotch. I can see that knob on from here, getting you going is it?

‘Sure bloody is Big Jim’

‘So fuckin unzip yourself and lets see what you’re made off.’

Jake stuck his hand into his Hi Viz and pulled out a long thin hard cock.

‘You can have a good wank when I say so but first your goin’ to suck yer mates dick and when I say suck I wanna see his tool all the way down your throat.

Right Wayne I said bend over .

As he pushed the lad down he took his other arm and slapped hard across his arse

‘Fuckin hell man that hurts’

‘I want to get your bum nice and hot for my cock, so quit the moaning and with that he struck again as the arse showed red.

‘Time to give you  a sackful of cum boy. He dropped a gob of spit onto his throbbing cock and worked it, then taking hold of each cheek he spread them apart to get a look at Wayne’s hole.

‘Big hole boy for someone like you. Don’t tell me you’ve not had a dick my size up that crack of yours’

 ‘Now inch that arse back so I can spear you and don’t worry I’ll take my time.’ Slowly he inched his cock into the hole his spit giving as much lube as necessary

‘That’s it boy you now start moving back onto my prick’

‘Fuck I feel I’m going to explode’

‘Oh stop the crap and take it like a man.. That’s it you’ve got the hang of it now. Keep moving your arse further and further in. You’re tight but fucking fantastic ‘Keep going you’re almost at the hilt.’

‘I fucking hope so cant take much more length.’

With one push Big Jim was fully in.

Right Jake just fuckin looking and rubbing your dick, its time for you to give some action and give our mate here some head. I can see you can’t wait to get his knob down your throat.

Jake bent down while Wayne pushed himself further and further into Big Jim’s pubes.

‘Christ I can feel you right up’

‘I fuckin well hope so’

Jake  started licking Wayne’s head dripping his spit and feeling it mix with Wayne’s precum.

‘Load of pre there man. You’d have to with a dick this size up you

Jake slowly let his mouth move up the shaft, making sure his saliva made the cock easy to get down his throat. He loved cock especially Wayne’s as the further down he got the thicker the cock was making him open his mouth fully. Once fully in he starting sliding his mouth up and down the shaft getting faster and faster

‘Fuck man, you always give the best head. Come on Jim get that prick of yours moving in and out. I wanna come with you spurting inside me.’

‘You asked for it boy and with that Jim started lunging in and out making sure his groin was right into Wayne’s arse, pounding him. He could hear the noise of the precum and spit getting louder and louder the more he fucked.

Jake had his hand wrapped around his dick wanking hard ready to swallow all Wayne’s juice

Jesus man I’m going to come, your big dick is making me so fucking horny I can’t wait any longer. Jake get ready to swallow, I’ve got bags of cum going down yer throat.’

Big Jim slowly took his cock back ready for the final push.

‘Ready boy I’m cumin all the way up you. So fucking much it’ll be coming out yer mouth.’

‘Fuck man I’m cumming

‘So am I, take it Jake, shit what a fiuck’

‘Yes  boi here is comes yea, Fucking hell.’

And with that Big Jim threw his head back and all went dark

James woke up. It had all been a dream but not only had Big Jim spunked but James’s dream was so real he had come all over his chest, spunk all the way to his neck.

‘God what a dream that was amazing. I’ll need to go and shower.’

And with that the doorbell went not just once but several times.

‘Christ I’ll have to answer that. He quickly put on his tracksuit and hoping no one would notice his dripping cock making a stain, he opened the front door.

Wayne was standing leaning against the door frame with mug in hand, his eyes glinting at James, dressed in full HiViz with a thick jacket and trousers.

‘So mate, I need some water for my tea. Thought I’d get some from you. You going to ask me in?’

‘I’m busy but if you just want some water come into the kitchen.. Where’s your mate?’

‘Buggered off so just me today, at least for the moment.’

‘Let me have your mug and I’ll fill up.’

‘Don’t think I’m wrong mate but you smell of spunk. Am I right? Looks as though there some left overs staining your trackies. Been wanking thinking of me, eh’

James was speechless

‘I saw you looking at me rubbing me crotch the first day and when I saw you looking out the window I bent down knowing you were getting off seeing my tight bum. Right eh? I fucking knew you were wanking at the window. So you get off on Hi Viz workies do you? I tell you we get hit on all the times by blokes who love the gear like you. So you wanna try some on, what about mine. Bet that would really turn you. You’d feel my body part of you eh?’

Wayne gave his cock an ru knowing full well James was staring at him, and all this talk was getting not just him but James also really horny

‘Well em, if you want.’

‘Right then get your trackies off and I can first see that bod of yours and all the spunk that’s drying off.’

James did as he was told took his trackies off

‘Shit man that’s a hell of a lot of spunk I can see. Good balls eh? And not a bad sized dick either which I can see is looking for some hot action. Got a wee surprise for you mate, hope you are ready. I knew I would have you today.’

Wayne undid his jacket and opened up to take off. Underneath James saw a white T shirt with the word SKIN in large red letters on the front and red braces. His tats showed strong all the way down his arms

Wayne let down his trousers and under he had a pair of bleachers and 19hole Doc Martins with yellow laces.

‘Eyes out on stalks boi? Like what you see. This is me when not a workie but I still luv being a fucking workie.’

Wayne stood there in front of James with his head fully shaved and glistening and all the tattoos showing down his muscled arms, he was the perfect skin.

‘So get the gear on.’ Wayne barked at James.

All James wanted was to put on the Hi Viz gear and he could smell Wayne  he hadn’t washed for several days but that made it all the better.  James just wanted to please Wayne

God it felt great and knowing it was Wayne’s made him start to feel so horny.

Wayne put his arm around James’s neck and pulled him in to him so their faces were touching.

‘Now open yer mouth.’

As James opened his mouth so Wayne kissed him and stuck his tongue down the throat releasing a huge gob of spit into James mouth.

‘Swallow that’ he barked.

As James let the gob slide down his throat so he suddenly had a burning sensation like an electric jolt through his body but it felt bloody great.

‘Feeling good boi eh?’

‘Yea feel different.’

‘Bloody right what’s yer name?’

‘J-boi’

‘Yeh and what are you?’

‘Your bitch’

And what does my bitch do

Lick your boots

‘So fucking get down and do it in my hi viz gear. You love my fuckin gear don’t you bitch’

J-boi did as told and knelt on the floor covering Wayne’s boots with spit and licking. Wayne put one booted foot on J-boi’s head and pressed it down.

‘I said fucking lick, so get on with it. You love it boy licking my boots and being my bitch.’

J-boi licked as though his life depended on it and the more he licked he more his cock hardened making him feel so horny. He loved his cock rubbing against Wayne’s trousers making him feel part of Wayne, a skin workie.

‘Now work your way up my bleachers’

Slowly still tonguing J-boi made his way up until he came to the hard long outline of Waynes cock. Shit what a cock. His full length was straining down his bleacher leg wanting to be released but not before he made J-boi work for it.

‘Now get your mouth round my head and feel the length. Good aint it, it’s what you want you fuckin little bitch.

J-boi said nothing,  he was too busy loving feeling the cock through the bleachers. He sat back looking up at Wayne like a pup.

‘You want my dick down that throat of yours don’t you boi’

‘Fucking right I do Master. You do with me what you want.’

With difficulty Wayne pulled down his zip and forced outhis thick juicy dick. It bounced up in boi’s face.

‘Look mate you’ve got be fucking hard, that what bitches do. So open that fucking mouth wide and take what’s coming to you’ as he smeared his pre cum cock against J-boi’s face

Wayne grabbed boi by the hair.

‘Once you’ve had my spunk I’m getting rid of all that  fuckin hair of yours. I wan my bitch a true skinhead. As you’r goin to be a fucking dirty workie you’ve gotta look a real man

He rammed hic dick into Boi’s mouth. At first he gagged with the size and ferocity that Wayne rammed it in but he wanted every inch Wayne could give him and let his mouth and throat take the full length. He felt the pubes rubbing against his face.

‘Jesus you love my sweaty dick. I haven’t washed for a couple of days knowing I was coming here. Nice a cheesy with some hardened cum on it. Thinking of you in my Hi Viz gear sucking me off had me wanking big time but better knowing that now you’re no longer a fucking pansy but one of us Skins. A bit of work but I’ll have you tattooed, hair shaved and smoking packets of ciggies in no time

His hands still grabbing Boi, he pulled him in and out, Boi’s spit dripping down his face

‘Christ you know how to give head boi. I picked the right one to be my bitch. I’m going cum and you’re gonna take all. There’s a sackful going down.

Boi in Wayne’s Hi Viz could only think of all that cum and sucked quicker and quicker.

‘Christ I’m coming ,take it all boy’ and he exploded into Boi’s mouth. Too much for him to swallow and it oozed down his chin and on to the Hi Viz jacket. ‘Christ what a fucking blow job. Jesus boi you’re the best.’

He hauled Boi up and stuffed his mouth down bois throat licking his own cum and feeling Boi’s spit.

Master, my cocks so fucking hard in your gear, I need to cum.’

‘Ok Boi but rub yerself off in my gear, I want all that cum to run down and harden inside. Let me see you wank now Boi.

Boi had his hand around his dick rubbing up an down on the trousersfeeling Wayn’s hardened cum inside and knowing he was going to cum and mix it with Wayne’s

That’s it Boi, shoot yer fucking load inside.

Christ, I’m cumming, shit I’ve still a fucking great load in me balls Yeeees fuck man , shitttt! And Boi gushed a wad of cum inside Wayne’s Hi viz and Boi could feel it running all the way down his leg, loads of good white cum.

He sat back exhausted still oozing Wayne’s cum from his mouth

Zipping himself up Wayne said

‘Right Boi its time you got your hands dirty and came out to do an afternoon’s work in your Hi Viz. I’ll watch you with me mug of tea. Then it’s off to the barbers for you and a full razor job. I want that head of yours gleaming. After that the Tat shop to get your fist tattoo and I’ll choose what it is. Like the idea of a swastika on yer neck. Have you looking like a real skin. We’ll pick up a few can of beers with your money and then home to get you into some good skin gear of mine before we hit the pubs. Seeing you get into my skin gear will make me so fucking horny that you can expect a right good fucking before we go out. It what you wanna be mate, a fucking Hi Viz Skin. My bitch. If yer lucky I may share you around with some of the blokes

‘Sounds fucking great, master’

‘That’s my J-boi’

To be continued?

[rom-e-o]

Found some pretty brownish thrifts for Connie

I know the tan one isn't as glam as her usual vibe, but I just see her in it for some reason. Might be a good, safe outfit for her first day as clerk when she starts at the bank. They could always send it to Josie to do a glam-up too.

The last one is kind of the same. Idk where she'd wear it or what for, but I see her in it. Maybe it'd be a cute beach dress?

All of these are so perfect! seriously, her in this very posh, chocolate/coffee brown is just clicking so well.

Okay, I legit adore these, so each one is getting an occasion:

This feels like a date dress for a night at a jazz club or dueling piano bar. Just sitting, drinking a nightcap and savoring the music. I want her to pair it with some wedge shoes for ultimate 90s babe vibes.

Absolutely a shopping day dress. Easily gets paired with tall boots and a messy updo. It's the perfect 'lunch then shop' look because it's breezy but still elegant.

Definitely a first-day dress for her time as a clerk! She wants to look as formal as possible. What's more classy and formal than an A-line belted dress? She does wear it with heels and some gold jewelry too! Quite a few people stare on her way up and wonder who the hell got lucky enough to get HER in their office? (She also brought a briefcase).

LOVE this for the beach! It's almost a raisin-brown shade, which is so unique. This is one where she feels comfortable enough around the Pack to be herself, so she kicks off her shoes and is like...thigh-deep in the surf, twirling and having a blast. Love this dress with her hair down nice and loose.

[comfortabletextiles]

After I had this post on my dash, I kind of got obsessed with this.. (and screamed at @cephalopodvictorious about it)

But getting into this without some practice would be turning leather into trash, and that would make me sad.

So I went on the artists website and bought a very small pattern!

And today I went to the local leather shop and bought a bunch of stuff

The tan one is und dyed cow hide and the grey is dyed lamb.

The cow is now dyed Petrol and I wait for it to dry 👀

[ronearoundblindly]

Day Eighty-Three (1)

CEO!Steve Rogers x CEO!Reader

10 A.M., an It Had To Be You tale (see previous or series)

Summary: A joint meeting between AmCaps and the heads of four other major companies goes about as horribly as possible...or is it exactly as you expected? Either way, Steve messes up big time.

Warnings for (hi, I'm Ro) arguments, the absolute shittiness of misogyny, degrading use of petnames, language, social idjit!Steve (he honest-to-god tried his best but whoops). MINORS DNI. If this is not to your taste, please feel free to search lighter stories here. WC 2571

Sadly, the whole thing would have gone better if Tony Stark showed up.

Stark doesn’t do meetings like this though, and you may never bother with one again. You may have no need.

Clammy hands grip the leather spine of your monogrammed portfolio, comfortingly thick with the employee files you’ve brought as ammunition. This is a battle, no doubt in your mind, but Steve acts as if it’s any other day. To him, it probably is.

This is Steve’s fourteenth quarterly get-together of entities using the stabilizing, hydrostatic, insulated, electro-neutral, lead-dense (aka S.H.I.E.L.D) modules which American Capsules supplies. You’ve worked here for twelve of those but never been in the room.

The room feels as big as a concert hall with you an ant in the back pew.

Since the meeting is on your turf, you and Steve wait till the others arrive, your boyfriend highly aware of your nerves but without a clue as to why.

You’ve been preparing for this far longer than the not-quite three months you’ve held the title of co-CEO. It’s important to understand what is really happening between these companies and who exactly is to blame. It was also important to tell Steve nothing until you knew all the facts, and you didn’t until the phone call you just got off three minutes ago.

That’s not enough time. He’ll have to enjoy the show like everyone else,

Steve loosens his skinny black tie and repeats that you shouldn’t worry. He can take the lead. All the stats are printed in the binders laid in front of six chairs around the oblong table. He touches you, reassuringly he believes, at exactly the wrong moment.

Justin Hammer saunters through the door, clocking the intimate hand on your arm when Steve leans forward to whisper, “what’s wrong?” The outrageously pompous pumpkin sucks his teeth, winking at you, and spins to moonwalk closer. Hammer even goes so far as to cup your other elbow with an over-tanned palm.

“Peach, you’re gorgeous. Don’t ever change,” he flirts, damn well knowing that you aren’t the assistant anymore but are dating the man right beside him. “Hey, pal, how’s it going? Lookin’ sharp.”

Justin wheels the nearest chair away from the conference table and plunks down, lounging against the high-backed seat, swinging his feet up onto the adjacent chair. He may as well be at the beach.

He snaps, hand landing in a finger gun pointed at you—or your backside, more accurately, where he’s also staring.

“I like mine sweet and dark. Thanks. ‘Preciate you.”

There’s no elaboration. You’re just the coffee bitch to him.

What’s wrong, you want to tell Steve, what’s wrong is that asshole is only twenty-five percent of the shit I have to deal with this morning!

Before you or Steve can respond, however, the other three arrive in quick succession.

Darren Cross of Pym Technologies might actually be the least offensive of the bunch. His smile is polite and jovial, he greets Steve simply and shakes your hand, and he smacks Hammer’s calf hard enough to make a sound as he passes by.

He, unlike Justin, brought a briefcase, keeping up the illusion that he participates in the company he’s here to represent. Cross probably does still participate, considering he was only promoted recently after Hank Pym retired.

Aldrich Killian is undoubtedly (one of) the brains behind his think tank, AIM, and Brock Rumlow is undoubtedly smug, being a lowly former associate at Stark Industries, now an executive for the Roxxon Energy Corporation.

Each of them has skin in each other’s game; throughout the history of American Capsules’ products, innovations have been shared between them to either create suitable shipping containers or to have their products shipped via those containers. They’ve quite literally shielded their collective work.

It’s a symbiotic relationship.

It’s a circle jerk.

Killian and Rumlow do not bother to walk around and say hello. They fake niceties and unbutton their suit jackets to sit on the other side of the table.

Noticeably, none of them chose either ‘head’ of the table. No one was willing to take a position of power equal to Steve in his own house. Your boyfriend seems to interpret this as acquiescence of some sort—proof that they’ll blindly respect what and who Steve himself respects,—and then Steve wrongly decides to gently run his hand the rest of the way down your arm, his fingers curling to lift your limb until the very last second.

He made it look like you were reaching out for him, like you were a scared child in need of support. You are, in a sense, but he didn’t have to fucking advertise it to these men.

Steve doesn’t make mistakes. He did that on purpose. Maybe he meant to establish some sort of claim to you? To stop them objectifying you? Whatever they do now is solely out of respect or fear of him though, not you.

You’re frozen in place—in anger, truth be told—until Justin drops his feet to the floor dramatically.

“Indulge me, sweetcheeks.” He winks again. “I’m thirsty.”

Doing your very best Vanna White impression, you step back and sweep an arm out toward the drinks on the side server. “Help yourself,” you say with a smile.

It’s only because Justin is an idiot that he misses the dig.

Open to the page he wants, Steve tosses his binder to the wood surface, the slap of lamination to varnish attracting the attention of all the men, and takes his seat at the end.

You waltz to the other side, a clear and distinct separation between you and Steve, equals in life and work but opposites today.

“Shall we wait for Stark,” Rumlow growls in his low voice.

“Not necessary,” Steve allows. “If he shows, he shows. Let’s get to it.”

Steve begins, pointing out a few key concerns. Since you already know all of this, he doesn’t look to you while speaking, but neither do the other men when they respond.

They talk over you as if you’re not there, being blowhards and patting each other on the back for ’surviving in this economy.’ You let them go on. Steve gets nowhere. He gets excuses. He gets parroted promises.

Justin dismisses insufficient specs by saying he’s just a pretty face. He leaves all the numbers to nerds. He laughs about how he’ll have to check with his people about the nitty-gritty details, but he’s sure it’ll work out.

He stands to get his own black coffee, plopping three cubes of sugar in the chrome mug.

Rumlow barks out that shoddy Hammer tech nearly sank a Roxxon oil rig.

Justin feigns ignorance of the incident.

Killian uselessly offers a fix for that, at a price.

Darren argues that Pym has followed their agreement with AmCaps to the letter.

Everybody is fucking lying to themselves.

The shouting continues, escalating until it looks like Killian and Rumlow are close to throwing punches, though you’ve missed why those two are at odds.

Finally, Steve rises, stretching his hands out in peace.

“Everyone, calm down! Take a breath. Have some water. Sit.”

He’s stressed, clearly, defaulting to conditioned behavior which means Steve then looks right at you with a pleading expression.

Wrong again.

Darren lets out a huff and nods at you. “Yes, I think that would be nice.”

“I’ll take a glass,” Rumlow adds with a tap of the table in your direction.

Killian sighs an unmistakable ‘loser’ to Rumlow, and suddenly, the fight is back on.

Time to lock and load.

You cough and stand, flipping open the portfolio in front of you, adjusting your hips in your pencil skirt with a tug but only for affect. You know exactly what draws the attention of these men.

The room goes mostly quiet.

“Water. For the table,” you deadpan command Steve.

Picking up your copy of the report set, you clear your throat.

“I’m afraid Rogers has given you all the impression this is a negotiation. It’s not.” You slide the binder to the center. “It’s a courtesy. A courtesy which none of you deserve.”

“What the hell is she talking about?” Rumlow gruffly asks Steve.

“I’m talking about unpaid balances and unfulfilled orders. I’m talking about product tampering and verified illegal activity that hereby voids your contracts, effective immediately.”

Darren shoots out of his seat. “You can’t do that!” He turns to Steve. “She can’t do that, right?”

Steve, however, is blanched with shock. “Wait, I—“

“Each of your agreements with us—“ you barrel over his protest “—contains a morality clause which was broken by Hammer Tech when they conspired to produce a subpar protective lining and pad Roxxon gas sales in the region, unwittingly causing unsafe storage at a Stark factory in Galmira because the entire operation no longer followed American Capsules specifications—your specifications for transporting your own products.

“Pym,” you continue with force, “failed to produce compact enough items for the containers they ordered and instead chose to resell the regulated lining materials for a premium.” You toss a packet of papers down to Darren. “In your infinite wisdom, this also means you violated multiple Customs laws by forging shipping weights and ignoring safety guidelines.”

Killian puts a bejeweled hand over his vested heart. “Cross, you didn’t?”

“Which brings me to fucking AIM,” you grit.

“Precious,” Steve breaths with a warning tone, but you can’t stop. You’ve waited too long for this moment.

“Because who the hell do you think created the new formula for a light-weight, lower-cost, shitty lining?” You take such pleasure in stabbing a finger in his direction then flinging stapled proof across the table. “Evidence. Evidence of all of this provided by multiple sources. And you were warned…”

Now comes the really fun part.

You spread out eight folders.

“…warned by Roxxon’s own Betty Ross, Wanda Maximoff, and Kamala Khan. By Hammer’s Monica Rambeau and Kate Bishop. AIM’s doctors, Christine Palmer and Helen Cho, and finally, Pym Tech’s Mary Jane Watson—none of whom, I’m excited to say, work for you anymore.”

There’s a stunned heft to the frigidly controlled air in the large room. The florescent lights overhead buzz harshly.

“Are you fucking serious?” Killian rasps.

“Put your bitch back on her leash,” Rumlow bites to Steve.

“Don’t speak to her like—“

“Wait a minute,” Justin snorts, “I’m confused.”

“Your nerds will explain it to you once you crawl back into your hole.”

“Prec—” Steve snips in alarm but catches himself. He looks panicked and blind-sided, which he would be. You kept their complicity from him until you had everything you needed to invoke the morality clause.

You turn to the junior CEO for Pym Tech. “Expect a call from Hope Van Dyne. She has a few thoughts on Cross Technologies.”

Called out for his as-yet-unannounced rebranding of the company, Darren breaks, and he breaks viciously, vaulting the three chairs between you.

“Fucking cunt,” he screams through bared teeth.

Steve launches past the skittering seats and makes it to Cross milliseconds before he can intercept you.

“I didn’t make you lie, cheat, and steal,” you screech. “You screwed yourselves!”

Killian straightens his lapels and smooths his shirt nervously. “Surely, we can come to some arrangement.”

“This is all a misunderstanding,” Hammer adds.

Rumlow simply walks out with a shout of “you’ll be hearing from our lawyers.”

Steve slams Cross into the window, an ominous rattle shaking the frame, the cheek of the struggling man whining as it smears along the glass. When Darren still tries to hiss something else at you, Steve pins him against the wall instead, a forearm choking off any other choice words the bald man might offer.

“This meeting is over,” Steve grunts, pushing at Cross until the man settles.

“Right,” you sigh, keeping your voice as level as you can. “Gentlemen, I’d say get your houses in order, but I’m afraid the furniture is about to be repoed.”

Killian runs his hand through his styled hair. “Think I’ll leave you to talk some sense into your precious partner. Good day.”

You’ll never forgive Steve for blurting your private nickname out in front of the worst possible people to know it, but this is how you chose to play the meeting. You knew there’d be…pushback.

The AIM founder takes a lazy sip. “Thanks for the water, Rogers.” He taps his pinky ring several times on the glass, a hollow, high ting lingering after each strike, and then Aldrich heads for the door.

Steve releases Darren despite the wild look in his eyes, but Cross would be a fool to make any move except to leave. He gathers his things and slips through the exit before it fully closes.

The only one remaining is Justin Hammer, and he tosses out his arms with a chuckle, shaking his head.

“Kitten, come on. This is crazy. Isn’t this crazy? We’re all friends here. Let’s just chill, relax, and work this out. How ‘bout a drink?” More snaps. More finger guns. “You want coffee? Alright, perfect. Love ya. We’ll have coffee.” The man fidgets, sweat visible on his lip and forehead when he turns in the window’s light and approaches the drink cart.

“Sure thing, Justin. I take my coffee like I take my women—“ you smile “—from you.”

Okay, that part just felt good.

“That—” Hammer’s brow raises and he wipes down his jaw with one hand “—now that was uncalled for.”

Steve cuts in, a solid dismissal in the form of “I said ‘the meeting’s over.’”

“Oh, boy. You—well, you better watch…This ain’t over.” Hammer makes a fuss of buttoning his jacket again, puffing out his chest, then walking off even more empty-handed than he arrived.

The enormous, heavy door shuts slowly on buzzing, bright silence.

After a pause, Steve heaves out a breath.

“That went well.”

Sarcasm is not one of his strengths.

You’re not sure what you expected. You stand as a block of granite decor in the corner you retreated to once shit hit the fan.

It was the right decision. This was the right thing to do, the moral thing. It’s in the goddamn contract.

Though physically he shows no signs of duress—Steve used very little of his actual muscle to subdue Darren,—he hangs his head, stepping to your spot at the table to look at what you brought in. After a pause, Steve rubs his temple like it aches.

“I…I have no words,” he mutters, tone inscrutable.

You don’t care if he has words or not. You only have to wait until they’re out of the building.

“I don’t understand. What just happened?”

The door opens to reveal a bored-looking Topaz.

“Boss, Stark sent a catered lunch over. Where should they set up? It’s shawarma.”

“I don’t care,” Steve bursts. “Just take it down to R&D or something!”

That’s your cue to leave.

You shut your mostly-empty portfolio and tuck it to your chest.

A hand wraps around your wrist, unyielding.

Steve’s stormy blue eyes are felt more than seen, his hold tightening, trying to inch you closer, but you rip away.

“I’ll send you a memo,” you tell Steve without looking directly at him. “Keep those. I have copies.”

Fast as you can in heels and a skirt, you hurry after Topaz and past the food, fleeing first to your office and then to your own home.

[Day 83: 6pm]

[tender first aid drabble; Big Girls Don't Cry]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

A/N: Ahhhhh! Next up is how Steve makes it up to you...or at least starts to...😱😵‍💫🥴

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81

@bigtreefest @rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads

@fallinallinmendes @rach2602 @royalwritersoftheuniverses

[slaymitchabernathy]

Sweet as Sugar

| this drabble was based on an anonymous request, i hope i have done it justice :) |

There is something to be said about having a routine.

Coriolanus used to scoff at the idea of it, of doing the same thing every single day without fail. But when Soarynn moved in with him, he began to look forward to it.

His girlfriend was a creature of habit in almost everything she did. The way she brushed her hair, picked out her clothes, did her nightly skincare routine. She was adorably predictable.

Which was why he expected her to be waiting for him when he got home from work.

She always waited by the front doors. Always.

His briefcase feels so heavy in his hand as he fumbles with the keys until he finally hears the familiar click of the lock unlatching. A smile creeps onto his face as he pushes the doors open, ready to see his beautiful girlfriend bouncing on her toes, beaming up at him.

She’s not there.

Coriolanus frowns as he steps into the entryway of their shared home. “Soarynn?” He calls out, setting his briefcase down on the floor. “Where are you darling?” He’s given no response which does nothing to ease his worrying thoughts and he’s quick to explore the penthouse in search of the woman he loves most in the world.

He finds her in the kitchen, leaning against the marble counter, her head hanging between her forearms. He notices how her body trembles and she takes shallow breaths. Is she sick? Just today his coworkers mentioned several people having the flu. He’d hate for Soarynn to be sick, to be bedridden for several days.

“Soarynn?” He asks softly, not wanting to startle his normally very alert girlfriend. Soarynn could hear a pin drop from across the room but she seemed to be in her own little world right now.

Coriolanus takes a few cautious steps towards her until he can rest a hand on her side and her head snaps up. Her blue-gray eyes are bloodshot and her normally tan skin is so pale. “What?” She snaps, her voice sharper than he’s ever heard it before.

Coriolanus would be lying if he said he wasn’t taken aback by her attitude. Soarynn is quite possibly the sweetest girl on the earth. To hear her with this tone of voice confuses him more than it angers him.

“I…you weren’t waiting for me when I got home. I came to check on you,” he explains, “are you alright darling? Are you sick?” Soarynn sniffles and shakes her head, “No. I’m not sick just tired is all.”

Coriolanus purses his lips but nods, he doesn’t quite believe her but he also doesn’t want to argue with her. Not when he’s practically paid to argue with grown men over business purchases and decisions. And speaking of work, he still has a few things to do before he retires for the night but he also doesn’t want to leave Soarynn, not when something is clearly wrong.

Soarynn must sense it, his apprehension because she straightens up and brushes her hair behind her ears before taking a few steps towards the archway that leads to the living room. She walks past him as if he’s not even here but he notices a stumble in her step. Is she drunk?

Coriolanus can’t remember the last time Soarynn was truly drunk. She’s always kept track of her alcohol consumption to ensure nothing embarrassing happens while under the influence. Perhaps she spent some time with her friends and let the drinks get the best of her. He watches her walk through the living room and towards their bedroom, once she’s out of sight, he shakes himself from his doubtful thoughts.

She’s fine. She’s tired and will be fine tomorrow.

He looks over at the kitchen table to see a plate of food waiting for him like always. They usually eat together but that’s clearly not happening tonight. So Coriolanus has dinner by himself, it’s delicious like always, Soarynn is a great cook.

It’s when he’s going to scrape the last bits and pieces of his plate into the trash bin that he sees most of Soarynn’s dinner has been discarded. He frowns, it’s not like Soarynn to skip out on a meal. She’s always had a smaller appetite than him but she’s also just smaller in general so it’s normal that she eats less than him.

Coriolanus probably eats more than most anyways but still, it worries him even further.

꧁ ꧂

Sitting in his study with his paperwork spread out on the desk in front of him, Coriolanus can’t help but let his mind drift to the woman down the hall.

Maybe she is sick, or…depressed? He hates how he doesn’t know how to fix this problem immediately. The problem solver in him hates all of this so much. He’s normally the one who fixes everything for Soarynn. The second she’s faced with the smallest inconvenience, he’s the one she runs to.

How can he be her boyfriend is he can’t help her?

Coriolanus pushes his paperwork away, he can do it later.

He quietly pads down the hall to their bedroom and checks his watch, it's a little past eight which means Soarynn should be sitting at her vanity in her bathroom applying some sort of face mask. When he walks into their large bedroom he finds her in bed, fast asleep. He furrows his eyebrows, the Soarynn he knows and loves would never fall asleep without him.

Something is wrong. He doesn't know what, but something is not right.

꧁ ꧂

The next few days pass without a lapse. Soarynn it seems, has returned to her normal self, smiling and laughing with a bounce in her step.

Coriolanus watches her as she walks around the boutique she’s dragged him to. He made himself comfortable on the sofa outside of the dressing rooms, giving him a good view of all the clothing racks and the pedestal that stands in front of the wall of mirrors.

Two employees follow his girlfriend around the shop, offering different suggestions, taking an article of clothing to the dressing room if Soarynn so much as glances at it, asking again and again if she’d like something to eat or drink.

It pleases him to see how well she’s treated by staff members of all Capitol establishments. He’s worked hard to get where he is today, to be respected the way he is and that applies to his girlfriend as well who’s stood loyally by his side through it all. If he were to hear that some business treated her poorly, they’d be shutting down the next day.

Soarynn gasps when she sees something on one of the racks and grabs it before holding it up for him to see. It's a pink dress, fluffy and sparkly, just as Soarynn likes her clothes. He smiles, knowing that she's been on the hunt for a dress like this for an upcoming gala they have next week.

"I'm going to try on everything," Soarynn tells him as she walks towards the dressing room doors, "I'll come out and show you everything." He takes the glass of champagne one of the staff members offers him and nods, "I can't wait to see how beautiful you look in everything, darling."

Soarynn blushes before making her way into the dressing rooms, two staff members right behind her. He always enjoys how easy it is to fluster Soarynn who still blushes at the smallest compliment from him. She's easy to compliment, to praise. She's perfect.

He busies himself by chatting with the staff members, all of whom are gushing over how pretty Soarynn is. "She could definitely model," one of them says. She certainly could be, but Coriolanus knows his girlfriend well enough to know how shy she can be. Walking down a runway or posing for the camera is not in her forte.

When Soarynn finally comes out in the first dress, a strapless red number, she's met with praise from everyone. The dress has a rather high slit that Coriolanus knows will drive him mad after a long night. Soarynn tilts her head as she meets his eyes in the mirror's reflection. They have a sultry look in them like she's trying to tempt him. He nods, "We'll take this one."

Soarynn heads back into the dressing room with a grin on her face and Coriolanus patiently waits for her to come out with the next dress.

But she doesn’t.

One of the staff members however, rushes out and whispers something into another staff members ear who nods and scurries to the front of the shop. Coriolanus furrows his eyebrows, “Is everything alright?” He asks, his voice colored with worry. The staff member meekly nods and does her best to avoid eye contact, “Yes sir. Miss Soarynn is simply in need of refreshments.”

Refreshments?

He’s not given much time to mull over the peculiar choice of words before the other member of staff comes back with a plate of little cakes and a glass bottle of water. They had eaten breakfast a few hours ago, but Soarynn usually wasn’t one to snack. Coriolanus on the other hand took every opportunity to eat when allowed.

He waited for a good ten minutes before Soarynn finally came back out, a flushed look on her face and somewhat unsteady on her feet. Coriolanus immediately rose from the sofa and rested a hand on her waist, “Is everything alright?” He asks quietly, putting a bit of pressure into his hold.

He didn’t think Soarynn was trying to keep anything from him, but something still felt off from the other night when she’d snapped at him and then gone straight to bed afterward.

Soarynn gives him a small smile and nods, “Yes, everything is fine. I just felt a bit light-headed so they brought me something to eat. I feel much better now.” He wants to point out that she didn’t try on any more dresses, but Soarynn honestly looks exhausted. Perhaps they should just go home so she can rest.

“Box the rest of the dresses up,” he says, not taking his eyes off Soarynn who’s now fully leaning into him, “we’ll take all of them.”

Soarynn doesn't even protest and simply closes her eyes. It might do them some good to visit the doctor on Saturday, just to make sure everything is alright.

He hopes everything is alright.

꧁ ꧂

The next few days have truly done nothing to ease Coriolanus or any of his worries. Soarynn has been the complete opposite of herself, she's been easily irritated, she even snapped at Petunia the other day, something Coriolanus thought he'd never see.

She's been tired more and more, going to be as early as seven, not wanting to partake in any of their regular nightly activities. Coriolanus also found her hunched over the toilet one night, overcome with nausea and cold sweats. He worries more than ever for his girlfriend who now can't seem to concentrate on the simplest of tasks. Perhaps she needs to speak to a therapist of some sort.

He pushes all those nagging thoughts to the back of his head as he finally reaches his front doors and lets out a heavy and tired sigh. Work absolutely killed him today with three different meetings and two very lengthy phone calls.

All he wants to do is eat dinner and curl up in the bathtub with Soarynn. Hopefully, she's feeling better today and will be up for it. When he left this morning she was still fast asleep. He placed a kiss on her cheek before leaving for work.

When Coriolanus pushes the heavy doors open he's not even surprised that Soarynn isn't waiting for him. She never waits for him anymore.

But something is off. It's quiet. Too quiet.

It's almost eerie how quiet it is in the penthouse. Coriolanus swallows and places the keys on the table near the front doors, "Soarynn?" He calls, "Soarynn are you here?" He's met with nothing but silence and while he's grown used to it, he feels there's been a shift in the air.

He's more than surprised when Petunia comes bounding down the hallway, meowing as she approaches him. He contemplates side-stepping her but never in his life has this cat greeted him like this before. In fact, Petunia could truly care less if he died today or lived tomorrow.

Petunia continues meowing once she reaches Coriolanus and stands on her hind legs, resting her front paws on his leg, pulling at the fabric of his pants. "Petunia, down," he says, in no mood for games. Petunia lets out a yowl that for some reason sounds like a small scream to him, as if something is terribly wrong.

Coriolanus feels a shiver run down his back, "Petunia, where is Soarynn? Where's Soarynn?" Petunia springs into action and bounds down the hallway and Coriolanus is hot on her heels.

She leads them to the bedroom where Coriolanus finds the lights are on but nobody is home. He frowns, perhaps he misread the situation and placed too much faith in Petunia. But the cat is pacing in front of the bathroom doors, the doors that are shut. She scratches at the wood, meowing as she often does when she wants to be let into a room.

"Soarynn?" He asks, slowly approaching the doors. He's not given a response but he opens the doors and the sight he's greeted with is quite possibly his worst nightmare.

Soarynn. On the ground. Unconscious.

Coriolanus falls to his knees, his heart is beating so fucking fast he might go into cardiac arrest. "Soarynn," he whispers, grabbing her limp body, "Soarynn wake up, darling wake up." Soarynn remains unresponsive and he presses two fingers to her pulse point, letting out a giant sigh of relief when he feels the familiar beat. But it's much weaker than it should be and her breaths are shallow.

Petunia rests a paw on Soarynn's arm, her little blue eyes filled with concern as she looks up at Coriolanus, "Good job Petunia," he mumbles, "good cat." He inspects Soarynn's body for any cuts or signs of trauma. He pictures the worst, someone breaking in and taking advantage of Soarynn before leaving her here.

But one glance around the bathroom puts those thoughts to rest. He can see the tub filled with bubbles and her robe hanging on the hook. She's dressed in her nightgown but it's clear that she was going to take a bath before this happened.

Whatever this is.

And he's going to get to the bottom of this first thing in the morning. Until then, all he can do is care for the love of his life and ensure that she's safe and sound.

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus keeps one arm tightly wrapped around Soarynn's waist as they slowly walk into the doctor's office. He managed to get the earliest appointment slot and Soarynn thankfully, woke up this morning so they were able to come.

From what she claims, Soarynn has no recollection of passing out, only that she was going to take a bath and suddenly she felt strange, like her limbs were numb and her head was spinning.

It's a miracle she didn't bang her head on anything.

Coriolanus makes sure she's seated and comfortable before approaching the receptionist's desk, "Hello, I'm checking in for Soarynn Nightingale," he tells the older woman who nods and types something into her computer. "The doctor will be with you shortly," she says. Coriolanus nods and makes his way back to Soarynn who looks nervous like she always does when they visit the doctor.

Soarynn hates going to the doctor's office. She'll do everything in her power to avoid coming here and Coriolanus often has to force her to come. Her health is of utmost importance and he can't allow her fears to turn into negligence. "Everything will be alright sweet girl," he says, giving her hand a squeeze as he sits down next to her.

Soarynn gives him a small smile but he knows that she's not convinced, "I just...I worry he might think I'm an idiot if I can't even remember the past few weeks," she admits. Coriolanus frowns, should anyone think of Soarynn as an idiot, then their days will be numbered, simple as that.

He cups her face, touching her skin so gently as if she might shatter at any moment, "You couldn't be an idiot if you tried," he whispers, "you're so very intelligent and kind. The doctor will know what to do, trust him to help you, darling."

Soarynn lets out a deep breath and nods, closing her eyes, "I trust you Coryo." And what a horrible source of trust he's been, letting her get worse and worse without acting on it until her life was truly at risk. What if he hadn't come home when he did? What if Soarynn hadn't been home and passed out in the street?

"Ms. Nightingale?" The sound of the nurse pulls both of them from their worrying thoughts and Coriolanus helps Soarynn to her feet. She looks so small right now, so frail and delicate wrapped in her pink coat. She had been reluctant to come to this appointment, she didn't want to leave Petunia who was somewhat traumatized from last night's ordeal.

"Right this way," the nurse says, leading them down a maze of several hallways before they enter a small room with a bed and a chair, "The doctor will be with you shortly." Soarynn pales at the medical bed and Coriolanus presses a kiss to the top of her head, "It's okay Soarynn, I'm right here, you'll be okay." He helps her take off her coat and gloves before grabbing her waist and sitting her on the bed, the paper lining crinkling under her weight.

Soarynn rubs her hands up and down her legs, nervously looking around the room. It's a standard room with medical equipment on the counter. "What if he tries to give me a shot?" She asks, tugging on his hand.

Coriolanus gives her a small smile, "Then I'll be here to kiss it better once he's done." That wasn't the answer she was looking for. Coriolanus knows Soarynn well enough to know that she wants him to protect her from all things, even things that are in her best interest.

They don't say anything else while they wait until there's a knock at the door and the doctor makes his appearance. Dr. Ferns is the best in the business and the only doctor that Coriolanus trusts to look after himself and Soarynn.

"Good morning," he greets the young couple, closing the door behind him, "I believe I'm here to see you today my dear." Soarynn gives him a small nod and Coriolanus gives her hand a squeeze, "What brings you in today?" Dr. Ferns asks, his back to them while he washes his hands.

Soarynn looks up expectantly at Coriolanus who clears his throat, "Soarynn has been experiencing several abnormal behaviors."

Dr. Ferns turns to look at them and raises his eyebrows, "Behaviors such as?" Coriolanus does his best to remember all of them but so much has happened with Soarynn, "Fatigue, dizziness, loss of appetite, irritability, difficulty concentrating."

Dr. Ferns nods and looks Soarynn up and down, "You're usually much livelier when I see you, your skin certainly has paled. And you mentioned loss of appetite?" Soarynn nods and lowers her head, "I'm just not hungry anymore," she explains.

Dr. Ferns shoots Coriolanus a look of concern, Soarynn can't afford to miss out on any meals, not when she's already lean as is. Dr. Ferns looks down at the clipboard sitting on the counter and presses his lips in a thin line, "Well, this could mean many things. But I'd like to run several tests so we can eliminate as many possibilities as we can."

Soarynn furrows her eyebrows and Coriolanus feels her squeeze his hand even harder this time, "What possibilities?" She asks him, her voice wary and untrusting. Dr. Ferns gives her a small smile, "Pregnancy for starters."

Both Coriolanus and Soarynn pale at the suggestion of her being with child. That can't be possible, not now, not when they aren't married. Dr. Ferns continues, "There's also several different conditions that have to do with your blood, so to be sure I'd like to take a blood sample."

Oh boy, Coriolanus thinks to himself. Soarynn hates needles with passion and she's so squeamish around blood. She draws in a sharp breath but Coriolanus is quick to nod, "Of course, run as many tests as you need."

Dr. Ferns leaves the room a moment later and tears form in Soarynn's eyes at the same time, "I don't want to get my blood taken," she mumbles, wiping away a tear.

It breaks his heart to see her like this, but Coriolanus has to know how to fix this problem. "Darling, I want you to feel better, I want to know that you're safe when I'm not around and it'll only be a pinch," he assures her, getting down on his knees and holding both of her hands in his.

Soarynn doesn't meet his eyes and Coriolanus sighs, he knows she's not trying to be difficult, that she's simply as tired and frustrated as he is. And maybe he wouldn't push for these tests so hard last night was the final straw for him. Finding her limp body on the bathroom floor did something to Coriolanus.

He would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

He can see her resolve slowly breaking, her stubborn walls finally coming down at his reasoning, "You'll hold my hand?" She asks, her blue-gray eyes finally meeting his. A small smile tugs on his lips and he nods, "Of course I will."

Soarynn sighs and her shoulders sag, "Alright."

꧁ ꧂

"Well, Ms. Nightingale, you're not pregnant."

Neither Coriolanus nor Soarynn attempts to hold in their sigh of relief when Dr. Ferns delivered that news. Even though they're an established couple, having a child before marriage would cause quite a scandal. Neither of them can afford that.

"But, after running several bloodwork tests, it appears that you have hypoglycemia."

Coriolanus blinks several times and feels his mouth go dry. What is hypoglycemia? And why does Soarynn have it?

"Does your family have a history of this or any other blood sugar-related conditions?" He presses and Soarynn frowns, "I...I don't know. Both my parents are dead and their medical records burned in the fire."

Coriolanus rubs his thumb on the back of her hand to soothe her. He knows how difficult it is for Soarynn to talk about her parents, both of whom died during the war. Dr. Ferns nods and looks back down at his clipboard, "Well, it seems that this is the reason you've been experiencing all the symptoms you've listed."

Coriolanus feels so small right now, so small and helpless. He thought coming here would give him answers and yet he feels more lost and confused. "What does this mean exactly?" He asks.

"It means that Ms. Nightingale's blood sugar levels are below what they should be. If she hasn't been eating enough then her blood sugar levels will drop, which can then lead to the symptoms you've listed and sometimes even worse such as seizures."

Well, it's certainly hard to keep her blood sugar levels up if she's not even hungry. Coriolanus watches Soarynn's face very carefully for any signs of confusion or frustration but she seems placid. "What do I have to do to feel better?" She finally asks, looking the doctor right in the eye. He offers her a pamphlet of sorts with all sorts of things listed on the page.

"Checking your blood sugar levels frequently is a good start, there are several options to do that, the least invasive would be pricking your finger and testing a small sample. Should your levels be below normal, something like candy or juice will help get them back up to where they should be. Also eating frequent small meals throughout the day is a good way to ensure steady blood sugar levels."

Coriolanus nods, that makes sense. A change in her diet might be necessary but other than that it seems to be a somewhat easy fix. And they seem to have caught it early. "Will she be able to lead a normal life? How come we weren't able to detect this sooner?" At twenty-three, he'd figure that Soarynn would've shown signs much earlier.

"Many people with this condition can go undetected for years before they start showing symptoms," Dr. Ferns explains, "and as long as she stays on top of her levels, she'll be able to lead a normal life."

Coriolanus feels a weight lift off his shoulders. Soarynn is going to be okay, she's not going to die from a sudden fatal illness and leave him alone for the rest of his life. He reaches out his other hand to Dr. Ferns, "Thank you for your help."

꧁ ꧂

"Try to eat something Soarynn," Coriolanus encourages.

She looks so small in their large bed, tucked under the covers, eyeing the yogurt he's offering her on a spoon. Soarynn pushes his hand away and crosses her arms, "I don't like that yogurt." This is the fifth yogurt he's bought her and it's packed with good things and sugars that will help her stay stable and yet Soarynn is set on avoiding it.

"I highly doubt this one is as bad as the first one," he reasons, remembering how a few weeks ago he bought her a nasty-tasting yogurt that not even Petunia would like. Speaking of Petunia, he watches her pad across the bed until she's standing on Soarynn's legs, giving the spoon a sniff. He smiles, "See? Petunia doesn't mind."

Soarynn raises her eyebrows, not impressed, "Petunia is a cat," she reminds him. Coriolanus pushes the spoon towards her again, finally getting her to taste it, "She also helped me find you when you passed out," he gently reminds her. Soarynn swallows the yogurt and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, "I wish I was like everybody else and didn't have to do this stupid diet."

She's frustrated and rightfully so. Coriolanus doesn't chide her on it, he simply offers her another spoonful. For the most part, Soarynn's daily life hasn't changed. She still goes out to events, still likes shopping and drawing, and going on dates with him. But she has to be more mindful, more aware of what's going into her body.

He sets the bowl of yogurt down along with the spoon and grabs her glucose meter, a machine that tells them the exact number her blood sugar is at. "Well, if your levels are good then you won't need to eat any more yogurt," he says, doing his best to make pricking her finger sound fun.

Soarynn eyes the machine and sighs, holding out her right hand to him. Coriolanus gently takes her hand and brings the machine up to one of her fingers, she doesn't even flinch when the needle pricks her skin, causing a small dot of blood to rush to the surface. Coriolanus takes a clean test strip and swipes up the blood before letting the meter read the strip.

He presses a kiss to her finger, "You're so brave darling, I hope you know that." Soarynn's sour face slightly falters and he can tell that she's trying not to smile. The familiar beep of the machine lets them know that it's done reading and Coriolanus gives her a triumphant smile when he sees that her blood sugar is right where it should be.

"Well done my love," he says, pressing a kiss to her cheek this time. Soarynn giggles and tries to push him away which further leads him to kissing all over her face. "Coryo! Stop!" she shrieks with laughter. Coriolanus grins when his lips finally find hers and they share a kiss that's soon interrupted by Petunia who quite literally butts her head in between their faces.

"You're a real pain, you know that?" He asks the feline who rubs her face against Soarynn's.

Soarynn smiles and gives Petunia a scratch behind the ears, "How lucky am I to have two doting loved ones to take care of me?"

Coriolanus watches his girlfriend and her cat with a content smile on his face. The past few weeks have been an adjustment, to say the least. Coriolanus of course, was completely overbearing once they left the doctor's office and worried that every little thing could cause Soarynn's levels to drop. But she was quick to remind him that she was more than capable of taking care of herself.

And of course, she was. But it's hard for him to let her be on her own, to shoulder this burden alone.

Coriolanus did everything in his power to make sure that Soarynn felt comfortable and normal. He helped her develop a new diet and did it with her, even if he wasn't a fan of some of the things she had to eat. He held her hand when they did blood sugar tests, and always kissed her fingers better.

There had been a few times when he nearly forgot that his girlfriend's health was a bit more compromised than most. Like the time they had been rushing to the theatre and his long legs were too hard for her to keep up with. He'd looked over his shoulder to see Soarynn leaning against a brick wall, absolutely breathless. They had missed the first half of the show trying to get Soarynn's breathing back to normal but he didn't care. He just wanted her safe and sound.

"You know, I need you the way you need sugar," he jokes, bringing a grin to Soarynn's face. "Do you now?" She asks, tilting her head in a playful manner. Coriolanus nods solemnly, "I fear I've grown addicted to you and your sweetness."

His lips are hovering above hers now, nothing but a breath between them, "Am I really that sweet to you Coryo?"

He doesn't hesitate to push his lips against hers again, this time more passionate than the last. He mumbles the next words against her lips, not wanting an inch of distance between them, "Sweet as sugar."

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[queers-gambit]

Fine Line

prompt: ( requested ) going after the same silver briefcase, you and Tangerine exchange more than a few blows. pun intended.

pairing: Tangerine x female!assassin!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 5.2k+

note: got a little outside my comfort zone with this one, so, hopefully it's not 1000% trash but you've been warned now.

warnings: codename "Peach", basically the request with a FEW tweaks here and there, so, some spoilers, cursing, (shitty) slutty smut [spitting, squirting, mean!Tan, PIV, male receiving oral, degrading behavior, talk of tops and bottoms], Tan is a switch i do not care, is this enemies to lovers? yes. depiction of canon-typical physical violence, blood, injury.

There was a fine line between love and hate.

You love your family, but God Almighty, did you hate their behavior in most public settings. You love homemade cake, but hate the entire baking process, especially the dishes. You love getting your nails done and feeling pampered, but hate sitting still in one place for that amount of time.

And you love getting fucked, but hate dealing with people.

The whole meeting someone, getting to know them, getting to a place of comfort to bring them home. It was a hassle, it was annoying to you; akin to an inconvenience and disruption. You didn't mind Tinder, actually - thinking of it as "Dick on Demand", never really needing the awkward stages of acquaintanceship. You didn't like going out places "to meet people", too busy with your work to truly put forth effort. Plus, your job didn't exactly allow for romantic entanglements to become knots; you had to keep loose and available.

This is what made your job ideal: it was remote, kept you busy, on the move, without the weight of baggage attached to people. Plus, it didn't give time nor room for anyone to become attached to you - something that always made you impossibly uncomfortable. A job such as this made life impossibly lonely, but you operated better this way - without anyone needing you, worrying about you, keeping tabs, being in your business. You liked being on your own, it was just easier. It made sense. There was logic behind it.

Didn't mean you were 100% alone, however. You had "coworkers"... Sorta. You had employers, though you were unsure where exactly they were stationed. You, yourself, resided mostly in London, but operated globally, wherever you were needed - or more like wherever you were sent to. These "coworkers" of yours had similar jobs, and while you hated putting a label on basically anything, in laymen's terms, you were a contract killer. Those you interacted with, typically, were other contract killers - but usually working different jobs.

Rarely were multiples from the same organization sent on the same job, yet it still happened.

On the off chance, you encountered a few individuals that were employed by other organizations; making them rivals instead of coworkers.

You were unsure which this all was yet...

You had been contracted by an invisible, anonymous employer to retrieve a silver briefcase with a train sticker on the handle, your handler encouraging you to get off the bullet train the moment it was in your possession. But there was a problem: you weren't the only one working this case, if the Ladybug twat and Twins was any indication.

When you located the case, you were instantly engaged by the blonde man with thick, black framed glasses; honestly getting the shit kicked out of you.

Currently, you were in possession of the case, but that was sure to change since it had already switched hands multiple times that chaotic night. You had come to a skidding halt, panting heavily, bent over on your knees in a vacant first class train car after escaping (momentarily) from Ladybug. Spitting blood from your mouth, you dialed your handler with shaking fingers; heaving a deep sniffle.

"You still alive?"

"I'll fuckin' choke you myself, Susan, I swear t'God," you groaned, sliding to the ground in exhaustion; wiping the trail of blood from your nose with a grimace.

Susan chuckled, "What's happening, honey girl?"

"Y-You didn't tell me I wasn't the only one workin' this!"

"Well, I heard rumor the Twins might be on the same case, but you usually beat them to the punch, don't you?"

"Yeah, but not this time," you winced.

"I'm sure Tangerine was happy to see you," you could hear her grin.

"Fuck off."

"He's into you, you know."

"The man snapped my tibia, punctured my kidney, and broke my nose - don't think that constitutes as anything romantic."

"Oh, you're into it," she laughed. "And don't act as if he ever walked away, scot free. If I remember correctly, you've shanked him twice?"

"He deserved it," you coughed. "Listen, fuck Tangerine - "

"I know you want to."

"Susan! Fuckin' listen to me!" You snarled. "They're not alone - there's another guy. For fuck's sake, Susan, I just got my arse kicked by a dude with a manbun!"

"Another guy? With a manbun? They're still in style?"

"Oh, my God - does it even mat - YES, they're always in style. Listen, this guy goes by the name Ladybug. Who do we know that uses codenames like that? What org?"

"Hmm," Susan thought aloud.

"What?" You spat blood from your mouth again, licking at the split lip.

"Could be KBS? They use animal codenames on rotation."

"Fuck all," you groaned. "Well, Mr. Ladybug can throw a fuckin' punch. Think he cracked a rib. But you know what? He's handsome. Almost feel bad for knockin' his lights out."

"Where are you?"

You looked around, "Emotionally? Physically?"

"You know what I mean, Peach. Where's the case?"

"With me," you assured, "uh, and I, uh... I'm not 100% where I am, I missed a couple stops fightin' these dumbfucks. Might be four stops from Kyoto? Five?"

"Get off before the end of the line," Susan warned. "At this point, I don't care if you have the case or not."

"Wait... Susan, what's that mean?"

She paused and sighed deeply, "All right, fine, time to get serious. Some intel came in, Peach... And the White Death bought out the train until the end of the line. I actually care about your safety and this just screams danger, so, get off before Kyoto, Peach, my girl. Hear me?"

"I hear you, mamas," you agreed. "I'll get off next... Stop... Oh, you've got t'be joking! Fuck me!"

"Gladly," Tangerine smirked and jokingly reached for his belt with perked brows, standing in the automatic doorway; looking beat to hell, similar to you.

You glared at him and offered your middle finger, his hands dropping as he surveyed the train car.

"Peach?"

"I'll call you back, Susan," you deflected into the phone, quickly hanging up and deflating. "Jesus fuck, look, I'm really not in the mood, Tan. Can we just make this quick? The fuck you want?"

"Do I look like I'm here t'play fuckin' games, Peach?" Tangerine asked, stalking slowly towards where you were slumped in the aisle, mid-train car, while dripping in his own blood.

"Still look like a clown t'me," you quipped. "I'll ask again: the fuck you want, Tangerine?"

"Gonna need that case, sweet peach."

You scoffed. "Seriously? You're after it, too?"

"'Fraid so."

"How many of us are on assignment? For this one fuckin' case?" You snipped, kicking the case a little.

"You look like you've seen the Ladybug fucker, haven't yah, doll?"

"He with you?"

"Fuck no."

"Where's Lemon, then?"

"Few back," He gestured back over his shoulder, pausing when you got to your feet. "C'mon, love, don't do this," He warned, mustache curling as his lip did. There was a deranged look in his eye, something stirring in your gut; seeing the shine of tears never shed, the anger, a high-strung energy filling the space around you.

"I just want off this train, Tan," you begged quietly. "Look, call it whatever you want, but something else is goin' on here - shit ain't right. Be honest, how much more difficult has tonight been? Why have we all been sent after the same briefcase? When it's supposed to just be a fucking grab job?"

Tangerine cocked his head, "Nah, no, we're on delivery."

"What?"

"Yeah, supposed t'deliver this kid and the case t'his father in Kyoto," his brows knit together.

You scolded, "You dumb fuckin' idiot!"

"I beg your pardon, sweetheart?" He leered, stepping another step closer; knotting your stomach.

"You workin' for the White Death?"

"How'd you - "

"Susan got intel, said he bought out the train, Tan. Fuck's really goin' on?"

Tangerine's jaw flexed, sighing through his nose, "Guess cat's out the bag now, innit? Yeah," he sighed, shrugging a bit, "we're doin' this job for him."

"Which means he's gonna kill us at the end of the line - why else ensure there's no other witnesses?" There was a long pause, both staring into each other's eyes without shifting attention. You shrugged and whispered, "You know, we could just jump off the bloody train. Grab Lem, get off the train before Kyoto, just fuckin' go."

"Who gets the case?"

"Where's the kid you've gotta deliver?"

"Dead - murdered, actually."

"Then you're already fucked and your job's done," you shrugged, "so, I keep the case and we all three keep our lives."

Tan sighed through his nose, offering, "You drive a temptin' bargain, love. Always enjoy our li'l run-ins," his hand extended to rest on your waist, freezing time. "But I can't walk away without that case. Lemon's down, he's been drugged, so, trust me, I'm all for just jumpin' ship, but I need the case, darlin'."

"So do I, I have somewhere else to deliver it."

"Then we have ourselves a Mexican Standoff, then, yeah?"

"No, that'd require a third."

"Kinky, but I prefer t'keep things between us, wouldn't you?" He purred against your lips, not quite kissing you as his hand tightened over bruised skin.

"Tan, don't do this," you breathed in the space between you.

"For whatever it's worth, I do usually feel bad after kickin' your arse - though, I'd much rather prefer t'kiss it."

"We can arrange that later," you smiled prettily, surging forward to kiss him fully. It was sweaty, cruel, bloody, and rough - everything you knew Tangerine to be. Yet right when he seemed entranced enough, both his hands caging your hips to his, you bit his lip in time to bring your knee up into his groin.

It sparked your fight, both exchanging blows without hesitation. You could feel your adrenaline propelling you, but it was quickly dwindling as Tangerine seemed renewed and invigorated by your fight. You, however, fought dirty; you had to - you had no other choice. He was physically bigger, stronger, but you were faster, and dare you say it, smarter. You didn't need integrity when defending yourself, easily using Tan's strength against him to add to the collect of bruises, cuts, and blood smears. But he still managed to manhandle you, sending you careening into empty seats and giving you whiplash.

You managed to swing on his back, preventing him from reaching his gun; legs coiling around his arms and flexing your abs to yank backwards. You grunted when you hit an empty bench, his head bouncing between your breasts; holding him hostage for a brief moment before you felt his hands grip your thighs in an innocently provocative way.

The moan from your lungs was unintentional, Tan flipping you both so you were on your stomach; him hovering over your back with a grunt. But there was a familiar feeling pressed into your bottom, head lifting slightly to struggle under Tangerine's grip; his reaction being exactly what you wanted as he pressed further into you.

"Just - fucking stay still!" He barked, trying to pin your hands behind you.

"Oh, you'd like that, huh?" You snapped, still struggling. "Some submissive li'l bitch?"

"Oh, darlin', I love me a top," he growled in your ear, grinding his swelling cock further into your ample arse cheeks, "but only good girls are so lucky. But don't worry," he chuckled, "I usually have cuffs on me for the bad girls, hey?"

"Fuck off, Tan, get off," you grunted, wriggling; grinding your hips up into him to try and dislodge him. He breathed deeper, and your mind played tricks on you because you swore you felt him grind back.

"I quite like this position, though, love."

"Thought you liked a top?"

"Doesn't mean I can't enjoy my own moments, huh? And you seem like you're far too used t'gettin' your way."

"So, which is it, then? You wanna fuck me or get fucked by me?"

"That an earnest question?"

You paused, "If it means I get the case, fuck yeah."

"That's not what it means, doll, but if what Susan says is true..." He nuzzled your neck briefly, lips ghosting your ear, mustache tickling your skin as he finished, "Might not get another chance."

You know he loosened his grip to let your arms snap back under you; groaning in relief. After panting for a moment, you lifted your head again, feeling his cheek brush yours and pausing to relish in the oddly intimate position. "We can always get the fuck off this train? Find a hotel in a nearby city?" You offered. "Can get me all night if you play your cards right."

"Know I can't, sweet peach," he whispered.

"Then why waste more time?" You mused, hissing when his mouth instantly fell to your neck in an open kiss that scraped his teeth into your soft flesh. "Hey - no! No ti-ime," your word hitched when he licked the sensitive skin in-sync with a roll of his hips, thrusting his hardening cock into the crease of your cheeks; making your spine shudder when his teeth scraped again.

"We got a li'l time," he promised. "Enough for a taste? You as sweet as your name, baby? Huh?"

"Tan, oh, my God," you breathed in disbelief when he reared back and manhandled you so he could unlatch the buckle of your belt and start shucking the material from your hips. "What if someone - "

"Shut up," he snapped, freeing your thighs. "Got me too fuckin' worked up t'worry 'bout someone walkin' in, yeah? Both know what's waitin' for us, don't we?"

"The White Death," you felt him yank your pants to your ankles and then shove your shoes off, pants following to the floor. "Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he roughly fingered your slit over your newly exposed panties, hearing his belt buckle jingle.

"Oi, no - "

"Fuck off," you snapped when you turned over suddenly, forcing him to pull back and glare, "I wanna watch - might as well give me a show, right? Since you're 'bouta get us all killed?"

He scoffed, "You're gettin' off the train, darlin', you're not meetin' the White Death tonight."

"Damn straight," you hooked your panties with your thumbs, lifting your hips, yanking the garment down as Tangerine continued to unlatch his belt, peel down his zipper, then pull both his boxers and trousers down in one motion.

"This isn't gonna be soft and sweet, love," he warned, standing over you on the train seat; pumping his cock to full mast while never lifting his eyes from you. "I've wanted you longer than I'll ever admit, I've got some ideas."

Your eyes rolled and fingers skated down your dampening cunt, "You're on a time schedule, maybe shut the fuck up and just fuck me already?"

He scoffed, lowering himself over you and making you gulp in anticipation; hands gravitating to his blackened waist. "You sure got a fuckin' mouth on you, don't'cha? That's all right, doll, I got somethin' for yah." His hand rose to pop a few buttons on your blouse, exposing your bra, asking, "You got a safe word?"

"Tangerine."

"Hmm? What?"

"No, that's my safe word."

"You fuckin' shithead," he hissed over your mouth, lips parting in a silent gasp when his hot cock dropped over your cunt in a tantalizing tease. "Be serious for once, yeah?"

You shrugged, "How's about 'pineapple', or is that one of your buddies names?"

"Pineapple it is," he grumbled, descending to your lips in a searing kiss that stole your breath and made your nails curl into his flesh. But a whimper emitted when he pulled back suddenly, standing over you, and moving towards your head. "Open," he demanded, holding his cockhead at your lips. "Don't give me shit about time, you need t'learn. Open your mouth."

You obediently opened your lips and Tan wasted no time in thrusting himself into your mouth; not too deep, not too rough, but enough to make you inhale sharply and readjust your position. Your one hand pumped what couldn't fit in your mouth, the other holding his thigh for balance; choking from the awkward position, but it made Tan smirk.

"That's it, see? Not so hard," he mocked. "Just gotta keep your mouth busy." You whimpered, cradling his balls; giving a playful squeeze that made him moan lightly. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this," he reached for your cheek and jaw, gently moving his hips - making you pause yourself to let him move. "Oh, fuck, that's - fuck," he seethed, "just let me do whatever I want t'you, won't you? Take a li'l more, good, good, just breathe," he guided, mouth opening in shock when he watched more of himself disappear in your mouth. "Oh, Jesus - you're such a dirty fuckin' girl, look at yah - so eager, willing," he nearly choked when he hit the back of your throat. "Shit - baby, don't," he paused to grunt, hunching over slightly and holding himself up on the back cushion of the train's seating. "Don't hurt yourself," he whimpered, your jaw opening just a fraction more, throat constricting when his cockhead slid against your uvula.

"Oh, my God," he praised, testing the waters and trying to thrust - but your gagging and choking made him pull back. "Okay, okay, too much, sorry, love. Oh, shit," he gasped when you didn't let him pull out all the way, still sucking him as if you were getting paid for it. "Yeah? 'S like that? Oh, you Godsend angel. Gonna be good fa' me? Huh? Keep quiet?" He asked gruffly, making you swallow around him; earning a hiss. "You're fuckin' dangerous, aren't you?" He scoffed, "Too bad I won't get t'take my time, innit? Fuck."

You hummed as he retracted his hips fully. His eyes caught yours as he spread your saliva around his swollen member, hearing you mumble, "Can still get off with me."

He sighed, "Isn't that easy, doll," as he lowered himself back onto the bench over you. "There's more at stake - "

"I know," you nodded, guiding his forehead to yours as you pet his cheeks; the cut he earned smearing against your skin. "Just an offer, ain't it? Just thought if yah did come, could actually have yah in my mouth - like I want." You both paused, you telling him in a whisper, "Can choke me with your cock - hmm?"

He groaned, nuzzling your nose once before kissing you swiftly, deeply. His tongue swept against yours, tasting himself briefly; rubbing his warm cock into your inner thigh as he swallowed your moans of budding pleasure. So caught up in the way he made you feel, you squeaked when his hand suddenly rose and clasped around your throat, eyes popping open as your own hands dropped to his waist in shock.

"Choke me with your dick, Tan," you reminded.

"This works, though, still shuts you up."

"You're so fuckin' bold for this," you accused, gasping when his hand tightened.

"Then maybe shut the fuck up, girl, Goddamn," he seethed, biting your bottom lip, reopening the split, tightening his hand another degree. "You're gonna be a good fuckin' girl, aren't you? Huh? Think you can manage that? Know you got a problem with authority, doll, but you're gonna do as you're told, aren't yah?"

You glared but didn't answer.

"Yeah, that's real good," he mused when you had no words. "Now open your fuckin' mouth again."

When you did, he dribbled a line of spit onto your tongue, squeezing his hand around your throat and jaw when he wanted you to swallow. His smirk was something sinister and devious, peaking down to then paw your blouse the rest of the way open and tug your bra down until your breasts were exposed.

"Fuckin' knew you had great tits," he grit while gripping, twisting, tweaking your breast meat and nipple; not letting go of your throat to ensure your silence. "Not good for much else, huh? Are you?" He sneered, "Only sent on a grab job, weren't you? But look at you now, so fuckin' ready for me, so needy, excited, all distracted, desperate for my cock - aren't you? Answer me right fuckin' now," he growled.

"Yes," you croaked, gyrating your hips up into his; feeling his bare cock drag over your cunt and salivating.

"Good," he spoke to himself, shoving your hips back down as one hand rose to hold his cheek to keep yourself grounded. He chuckled to himself, "Just pathetic, innit? The way you crave me? Dumb fuckin' girl, can't even focus on a simple mission, can she? Huh? Can you?"

"No," you whimpered, "need more. Please, please."

"Shut up, I got you," he rolled his eyes, "but you don't really deserve it, do you?"

"I do, I swear - "

"Told you to shut the fuck up, though, yeah? Can't even do a simple task, got your head all stupid, do I? 'S good t'know, if we survive this."

You glared, seeing his grin widen before he was descending onto you again. You licked through the seam of his lips, being granted access; exploring the other's mouth in feverish motions that made your head spin and cunt contract. He still toyed with your tit, then abandoning the ministration to scale down your bodies to where you needed him most while your hand slid into his hair to grip his bloody scalp. You were so close to begging, yet you'd never give a man the satisfaction... Yet if Tangerine requested you to beg, beg you shall.

"That's my girl," he praised when he pet swiftly up your slit; gathering your slick in a single motion to spread around your clit. "Yeah, there's my girl, look at yah," he laughed over your mouth, "already so fuckin' dumb and I ain't even touch yah yet."

You whined a little, his hand readjusting his grip.

"Oh, fuckin' fine, you greedy bitch," he rolled his eyes, sinking a single digit into your heat; earning a high-pitched moan of relief. Tangerine laughed again, "Yeah? So desperate that just me fuckin' finger gets you like that?"

You tapped his wrist when he held a little too tight, him instantly loosening his grip around your throat. He rewarded you with a few pumps of his finger before adding a second, grinning when you had enough airflow to moan loud and clear.

"You make such pretty noises," he praised, "stupid, but pretty noises. Lemme hear you - that's all I wanna hear, not your fuckin' words, princess. Huh? Can you do that for me?"

You nodded, ready to cry from the anticipation he built in your body. With your bottom lip between your teeth, you let yourself clench around his digits, moaning when he massaged that spongy good spot of your inner walls.

"Wait - Tan - wait, wait," you begged and released his waist to reach for his wrist while he grinned.

"Aht," he let go of your neck to lay across your hips to keep hold, "stay there, be a good girl. Lemme see you - c'mon, love, get there for me," he pumped harder, faster, a small sweat coating your skin. The sounds were obscure and messy, sloppy and frantic, wet and pornographic; his breathing deep and huffy while yours was high-pitched. "So fuckin' pretty like this, under me like this. There's a good girl, yeah, chase that feelin', 's all right, don't run from me."

"Tan-Tangerine, shit, please," you babbled, unsure of yourself. "I-I don't - I don't - oh, fuck!"

"Let it happen," he encouraged, leering over you; only briefly aware of his cock leaking precum on your thigh. "Let that feeling take you, there's a good girl, you're right there - good fuckin' girl," Tan broke his mean streak to praise you briefly, feeling the familiar flutter. "Open, hey, hey, eyes on me, princess," he waited until your half-lidded eyes met his, watching him nod, "open your mouth." You were so blissed out, you didn't think, just doing so and accepting more of his spit. He grinned at you when your eyes rolled back, encouraging, "Go for it, pretty girl, fuckin' soak me, don't hold back - c'mon, wanna fuckin' feel you, need t'fuckin' feel you cum - ohh-hoo, yes, yes, yes," he chanted when you squealed, squirmed, and released a stream of squirt that splattered over you both.

But that wasn't all.

Tangerine was mesmerized, never relenting his efforts and before you had time to recover, he was forcing another wave of cum from your core. His thick body held yours in place, desperately squirming to try and get away from the overwhelming feeling; but he had you and wouldn't let go. "One more, one more, one more," Tan panted, hovering over you as his bulging bicep kept hammering into you without relent. He kissed you messily, "One more, baby, c'mon, I know you got it in you."

"I can't," you sobbed, trying to squirm away under him.

"You can, doll, you're right there, I fuckin' feel you - such a good girl, c'mon," he encouraged, offering a few messy kisses to your lips while you wantonly moaned without control. "One more, just for me, c'mon, baby, you can do it - just fa' me - there she is, yes, oh, fuck, yes, yes, yes," he laughed when you, for a third time, came in his hand and over his crotch.

"FUCK!" You yelped when he used the messy slick of your orgasm to line himself up and plunge directly into you. "Oh, shit - just - a minute, baby, hang on - fuck," you panted, holding his hips tightly with your legs spread. Slowly, you let them fall around his own as you relaxed.

"Got you, baby, 'M right here, take yah time," he whispered, flattening his tongue up your neck as he adjusted himself between your legs.

Half a minute later, you gave him permission to move - and it was the beginning of the end. You were sensitive, tight, gripping Tangerine to a new degree he hadn't felt before; his head spinning and mind short circuiting. You were nearly constrictive, webs of your stickiness coating him as he moved stiffly for the first few thrusts. As you loosened up under him, he gained momentum; your hands directing his face back to yours as you clung desperately to his hulking form.

He kissed you like it was the last thing he'd do (and maybe it was), holding your hips so he could drill into you easier; lifting one hand to pet your throat before gripping it, like before. The other then drifted to hike your leg up his hip, the new angle making him shudder lightly. "I'm there, love," he grunted, looking concentrated and borderline in pain, "right fuckin' there - ah shit, you feel so fuckin' good."

"Yes, yes, don't stop, Tan, please," you moaned, locating your clit to apply pressure and rub in harsh little circles.

"Ah, my greedy girl," he chuckled, "three wasn't enough?"

"Wanna cum with you," you whimpered, gasping into his mouth as you were overly sensitive and careened off your cliff. Your orgasm triggered Tangerine's, who plunged completely into you and held still while his balls contracted; mouths left gaping open against the other. In complete bliss, you shared a laugh of disbelief with sweaty foreheads pressed together - both forgetting reality for a bit.

At the moment Tan opened him mouth to confess something to you, Lemon decided to stumble in through the automatic door, yelling, "Bruv! Oi! Where you at!?"

"GET OUT!" Tangerine roared, barely visible over the top of the benches.

"The fuck you doin', mate?"

You latched your legs around Tan, keeping his cock planted snuggly inside you; rocking upward to hold onto his neck and spy his brother over the back of the seating. "Hi, Lem!" You chirped.

"Peach? Oh, fuck me!" He laughed. "Or - fuck you, ammirite?"

"Give us a minute, honey, would you, please?"

"Only a minute?" He laughed again. "'Cause that's all you need, right, Tan?"

"Fuck off, Lemon," Tangerine snapped. "We got the case, we're gettin' the fuck off at the next stop - just - fuck off a minute."

Lemon shrugged, "You make the plans, mate."

"Be out inna bit, love, thank you," you smiled prettily at Lemon, who finally nodded, held his hands up in defense and backed out of the train car. "Well," you mused when Tangerine leaned back into the seat but kept a firm grip on your hips, "that was only mildly embarrassing."

"He's seen me in worse positions," Tan shrugged, blinking when he realized how that sounded, exactly. "Not like that - no, just, I mean, as my bruva, you know, he's seen - you know what?" He sighed. "Don't fuckin' matter."

"So," you smirked, grinding your hips over his public hair, "you're taking my advice? Gettin' off the train?"

"I knew you were greedy, but this naughty, too?" He groaned, slapping his hands to your hips and guiding your motions. "Just filled you, love, and you want more?"

"That an issue?" You smirked, feeling him swell in you again.

"Not a bit," he smirked.

"Answer me," you demanded. "You seriously gettin' off?"

"Why the fuck not? The kid's dead and whatever's in the case should cover however pissed off this makes the bosses, right? Though..." He trailed off when one of your hands reached around to give a gentle tug on his balls.

"Keep goin'," you whispered with a growing smirk, hips swirling.

"Though," he cleared his throat, "don't think we've ever not finished a job before."

"This is different," you promised.

He gulped harshly, encouraging your motions; stretching up to squeeze both breasts and making you falter slightly into him. "All three of us are gonna get off, yeah?" He whispered, bringing you in closer as your hips began to rise and fall with steady tempo. "Got somewhere fa us t'go?"

"I'll get it arranged," you promised swiftly, arms coiling around his neck to hold yourself in position as you increased your speed. "But we're giving my employer the case."

"Fine with me," he nodded, "just wanna stay alive at this point." You chuckled with him, raising up to keep riding him; his eyes glancing over your shoulder and stiffening. "Uh, love? H-Hang on, hang on," his arms encased you suddenly, making you stop all ministrations.

"W-What's wrong? You okay?"

"Where's the fucking case?"

Your waist twisted to snap your torso around, peering over at the empty benches you had once sat in front of. Your blood was left behind... But the silver briefcase with a train sticker on the handle was missing.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

Six train cars up, Ladybug shuddered and told Maria, "Christ, they were at it like rabbits. And, hey, like, is it cool to be mean during sex now? 'Cause he was kinda mean, but she seemed into it, so... That's cool, I guess?"

"Some people like that," Maria eased.

"Do you?"

"You don't want that answer. Do you have the case?"

"For now," he sighed. "How much you wanna bet they haven't noticed, yet? Bet they're still goin' at it..."

"You sound jealous."

"They're both very attractive people... Hm, you know, maybe I am a little jealous."

"Of which one?"

"Not entirely sure yet."

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Bullet Train masterlist