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a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 2 days ago

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Yearning

The sequel to part two: Feasting on You

This part contains no smut, but does continue the story of Eris and the Reader yearning for a babe. (You can skip it if you just want to banging, but I needed to give myself a LITTLE BIT OF CONTEXT.)

Contains: Fluff, loss of a partner, sexism, Beron Vanserra making me want to commit anarchy, hope of pregnancy, crying children, a female being made to feel small, jealousy, class discrimination.

Word Count: 3,495

Summary: As you continue to work through the quiet reality that you may not be able to have a child with your mate, Eris Vanserra, you are still required to continue your duties as second to the High Lord. You are holding court with your mate and council when a female comes with a request for aid, bringing her own children with her and causing you to ache for a babe of your own to hold in your arms.

Writing:

A few days slipped by, and while the persistent anxiety of not producing an heir gnawed at the edges of your mind, you hesitated to bring it up to Eris. What was the point? You questioned yourself. Yet, the nagging thought kept returning—unrelenting. The Healers had reassured you during your last consultation that conception required nothing more but time and patience, and there was no precise science to guarantee success. Much of it relied on the stars aligning, just right, and the coincidence of perfect time. You had hoped that by creating ample opportunities for coincidences might increase the odds. But it appeared that fate preferred to mock you with its own cruel designs.

Moreover, bringing it up with Eris might only burden him with distractions from the litany of other responsibilities he had before him. You didn’t want him to feel obligated to comfort you over something you felt shouldn’t have been a problem to begin with. Still, you found yourself lying awake late into the night, trapped in the swirl of thoughts. It clung to you like a dense fog, unwilling to lift. One moment, you seemed resolved to let it go and let nature take it’s course, but the next had the heavy weight of uncertainty pressing down harder.

Among your myriad of duties was holding court with Eris. The Autumn Court, rich with deep-rooted traditions, convened every few weeks for this purpose. These sessions were open, designed to allow the citizens direct access to the High Lord with their grievances and requests. Though Eris often found himself unable to resolve many of these issues, he cherished this time as a vital opportunity to connect with all the beings he governed. He believed it was crucial to uphold the tradition where those residing within his borders would have their voices heard.

Unlike his father, Eris had wanted his mate present at these gatherings. He hoped that having a female presence in the room, attentive to the requests presented, might inspire some of the court’s females to bring forth their own matters. His intuition seemed to have borne fruit, as more females seemed willing to engage.

Eris leaned forward in his intricately carved, high-backed throne, his eyes narrowing with intense focus as the male standing before him detailed the problems caused by a persistent drought in the southern region. He spoke of the desperate hope for relief from the poor crop yields. You maintained a carefully crafted facade of attentiveness, lightly nodding along as Eris asked probing questions, questions to which the male eagerly responded, eager to explain his plight. Finally, Eris clapped his hand against his thigh with a decisive smack. “Wonderful! We shall continue to monitor the rainfall levels, and until they have increased, your production quota will be reduced by twenty-five percent.”

The male before you beamed with gratitude, his smile wide and genuine. “Thank you, my lord and lady, you cannot understand how much weight this lifts from our shoulders.”

Eris returned the smile, his expression warm and reassuring. “It’s no trouble at all. I am grateful you made the journey here to discuss it, and I wish you the safest return home.”

The male offered Eris a light, grateful smile before turning. His footsteps echoed softly in the grand room as he exited, the heavy doors swinging closed behind him with a resonant thud.

Eris turned to his right, speaking to the council seated beside him. This was yet another aspect of holding court that you despised; it was one of the few responsibilities that forced you into the proximity of Eris’s father. You did your utmost to avoid meeting his gaze, pretending as if he were absent entirely.

At the far end of the room, the announcer cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the air as he introduced the next audience. “Lady Sibel of the Northern Forests.”

The grand doors swung open, their hinges creaking with age, revealing a petite female dressed in a rather plain garment. She stood hesitantly in the threshold, accompanied by a smaller figure—a little boy, no more than four years old, with a mop of curly brown hair and a smudged face peeking out from behind her skirts. His tiny fingers clutched the fabric tightly as he gazed curiously down the hall.

“Let’s go, Peter,” the woman beckoned softly. She reached behind her, gently taking the child’s hand, and began walking down the center of the hall. Her initial nervousness was evident, but as you offered her a polite, reassuring smile, her tension seemed to ease. She came to a halt before you, licking her lips nervously and fidgeting slightly as she prepared to speak.

It wasn’t until she stood directly in front of you that you noticed the tiny bundle snugly strapped to her chest, adjusting ever so slightly beneath the soft folds of fabric that nearly blended into the drape of her gown. Your heart caught in your throat as you heard the delicate, melodic coos emanating from the bundle.

“My lord,” the woman addressed Eris with a respectful nod before turning her gaze to you, “My lady.”

Eris inclined his head in a gesture of polite acknowledgment as she continued speaking. “I apologize for any inconvenience, but I have come today to seek assistance for myself and my children.”

You swallowed with difficulty as you noticed the little boy shyly retreating behind her flowing skirts once more.

“My husband,” she gulped as though holding back tears, “Was lost to an accident on the famr, and despite my efforts to maintain our land, it has become overwhelming for me to manage alone. Especially with the little one,” her hand gently reached behind her skirts, tenderly tousling the little boy’s unruly mop of hair, “and the newborn,” she glanced down with a soft, protective gaze at the precious life cradled close to her heart, “I’m just not able to care for the land like my husband was.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Eris offered, his voice laced with genuine empathy and shared sadness. The female merely nodded, her eyes glistening slightly as she swallowed hard.

“He was a good husband,” she observed slightly.

The small bundle issued another coo, though this time it seemed tinged with a hint of irritation as it’s mother lifted her hand to the babe. Her fingers tenderly patted it’s tiny back while she softly swayed to soothe it.

From the place beside Eris, Beron’s voice cut through the quiet, cold and unfeeling. “What are you here to ask for?” he demanded.

The female’s eyes flicked nervously toward Beron, and before she could muster a reply, Eris interjected, “What can we provide to ease your burden?” His words were carefully chosen and soft in delivery.

Collecting herself, the female took a quick breath and steadied her gaze. “I was going to ask if there’s any possibility of selling a portion of my land back to the court, so that I might have more time to care for my children,” she explained. Her voice trembled as she spoke, her eyes flickering between Eris and his father.

Beron let out a cruel, lifeless laugh that slithered into your bones, igniting a furious blaze within you. “You’d rather squander the property your husband left you in death than secure another male to shield your estate?” he spat, each word dripping with disdain and venomous mockery.

The female’s eyes filled with terror and disbelief, her fragile features—etched by years of sorrow—now laid bare as you could see memories of endless, tear-stained nights in a home meant for her families own growth, now empty and dark. “No, my lord. I cannot just recklessly give away this land without weighing the cost. If only I had more time beyond the tending, I could properly care for my children—” she began, her voice trembling, only to be brutally cut off.

“Countless females had lost their husbands to accidents and still clawed their way to survival—by finding another male to shoulder their burdens and entrusting him with their wealth,” Beron snapped.

Shaken, the female stuttered as her small babe emitted another disgruntled squeal. “I understand, my lord. But my husband was my—and my children’s—entire world—I cannot just replace him with another,” she pleaded, her voice quivering.

Beron’s lips curled into a sneer of scorn as he retorted, “Clearly you’re more than capable of bearing more children. With such fertile allure, I imagine you’d easily lure another male eager to impregnate you again—to secure his own lineage. And more children mean’s more hands on the farmlands.”

As his voice thundered louder, the little babe’s cried echoed ominously around the courtroom. “It seems you have no genuine desire to change your lot when you were born with every advantage to rise above. Instead, here you stand, clawing for handouts instead of doing what females have always done, which is to use their sex to their advantage.”

The babe erupted into wails as the small boy sought refuge beneath his mother’s skirts while the sorrow-stricken widow let silent tears trace down her cheeks. She tried desperate to interrupt the tirade, but Beron’s relentless mockery drowned out her please.

Finally, Eris intervened, his voice crashing over his father’s like a raging storm, “Enough!” he declared, and you could swear the light along the walls trembled in response.

The courtroom was flooded with silence that pounded in your ears other than the wailing screams of the babe. The mother’s tears came more heavily now as she turned her face down to look at the tiny bundle that squirmed angrily in their sling. She pat at the babe, shushing it, trying to soothe them but her own despair seemed to only make the babe more irate.

“I will remind you that you are no longer the High Lord, and have no right to make such statements in the presence of my court.” Eris hissed towards his father.

But as your mate unleashed a torrent of scolding upon his father, struggling to wrangle the court back into submission, you sprang to your feet, urgency propelling you down the stairs of the platform toward the distraught female.

She was consumed by hot, wrenching sobs, desperately attempting to soothe her screaming babe, her voice trembling as she shushed it. The small boy clinging to her skirts had joined the chorus of cries, his tiny hands clawing up at his mother for solace.

The guards that flanked the walls stepped forwards, readying themselves to intervene, but you waved them back, your focus laser-sharp on the sorrowful creature before you. The heated argument between Beron and Eris faded into irrelevance, your entire being centered on the female.

“I’m so sorry,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper as she lifted her tear-streaked face to meet your gaze. She recoiled slightly, as if fearing your approach would only bring further reprimand. You slowed your pace, softening your demeanor. “I’m so, so sorry,” you repeated with a fervent sincerity.

She shook her head, her voice trembling, “He’s right,” she admitted. “I shouldn’t have come here asking for help.” Her sobs deepened as she jostled the babe.

“No, no—” you interjected, stepping in front of her with determination, positioning yourself like a shield against the oppressive council of males seated before her. “You came to us for help, and we will help you. Regardless of what one member of the council may think.” You vowed it to her.

The babe emitted another piercing wail, the small boy in his mother’s skirts crying out, pleading for her. You extended two hands towards the infant, urgency in your gesture. “May I?” you asked, your voice resolute.

The female looked down at her screaming infant, then to her son, grappling with the impossible task of soothing them both while negotiating her livelihood. Her eyes flickered with hesitation before she nodded.

The female gently supported the babe from below, her hands steadied as you reached into the swaddled sling. Your fingers wrapped around the warm, wriggling body of the tiny being, feeling its softness and fragility. It let out a series of piercing screams as you lifted it, bridging the space between you and its mother. You pulled the babe closer to your chest, your hand cradling them under their rear, while nestling their tiny head with a delicate smattering of brown curls in the crook of your elbow.

The little one continued to wail, its gummy mouth opening wide in protest as you gazed down at it, your heart instantly clenching. You began to rock them gently, feeling the weight of their small form in your arms. They couldn’t have been more than a few months old, barely able to hold their own head up as they kicked and squirmed in fear. Another wail escaped their lips, tiny arms flailing upwards as you shifted your weight from one foot for the other, soothing them with a soft, rhythmic shushing.

The mother leaned down towards her toddler, lifting him onto her hip. She held him close, whispering quiet reassurances that only a mother could offer.

As you looked down at the infant, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. The cries grew softer, transforming into more discontented grunts, as you gently patted their rear through the soft, protective layers of blankets they were swaddled in.

“Shhh, little on,” you whispered. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

The babe finally opened their eyes, and you were met with brilliant blue pools peering back at you, even as tears streamed down their pudgy cheeks. “Hello sweetheart,” you cooed. “There you are. It’s all okay. It’s alright.” The little one sniffled lightly, their tiny hiccups and grunts punctuating their squirms. You leaned down, pressing your lips gently to the small babe’s forehead, your eyes closing as your inhaled the deep, intoxicating scent of the newborn. It was an enchanting aroma, fresh and new, a blend of clean linens and warm milk.

You pressed a gentle kiss into the velvety softness of their forehead, your body swaying slightly as you hummed against the babes skin. The babe, once restless and protesting with indignant squawks, now seemed to nestle into you, emitting sniffles and coos.

You placed another gentle kiss before leaning back, allowing the little one to faze up at you with wide, curious eyes.

A soft smile spread across your face as you murmured, “I know, sweet thing. I’m not mama.” You carefully lifted the babe, slightly turning them toward the female who was wiping away the tears of her toddler. “But mama’s right there; she’s okay. I promise, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

The babe’s eyes, still shimmering with unshed tears, began to soften as their tiny hands unclenched from the tight fists they had been balled into. “Look at you,” you whispered, “you’re so beautiful. Look at your little nose and lips.” With tender care, you brought your hand up to gently wipe away to hot, shiny tears that streaked down the infant’s reddened cheeks. “I promise, we’re going to get it all figured out.” You leaned down to meet the curious gaze of the little one. The babe’s eyes were wide with wonder, fixated on your face as if drinking in every detail. You lingered there, lost in the mesmerizing, tiny expression that danced across that small face.

Then, a deep male voice broke through and your gaze shot upward to where the tall figures sat, looking down on you and the female. Your eyes met your mates—a quiet smile dancing on his lips—his eyes softening as he watched you rock back and forth, cradling the little one securely in your arms. With a warm, knowing smile, you returned his glance.

“Lady Sibel,” Eris began, pivoting to face the female who still held her toddle close against her hip, “we want nothing more than to ensure the continued prosperity of your family. And when the time comes for you to expand into the farmlands once more, we are committed to preserving that opportunity for you.”

The female shifted slightly as she swallowed. The babe let out another gentle coo, and you looked over with an affectionate smile, exaggerating your expressions slightly to coax a smile from the infant.

“That being said,” Eris continued, “we would be honored to tend the land on your behalf, to nurture its fertility. And when you feel either ready to bind yourself to another partner, or one of your children matures enough to work the fields themselves, we will restore the land to your family name.”

The female’s voice wavered as she stammered in shock, “My—my lord—that’s incredibly generous of you.”

Eris raised his hand slowly and gently shook his head. “Your husband cared for the land for generation. It would be wholly unjust for your to lose it merely because of the tragic circumstances you have had to bear. Removed that burden means your children can flourish and thrive.”

Tears welled in the females eyes, shimmering with both sorrow and relief, as a small, hopeful smile broke through as she finally spoke, “My lord, I truly cannot thank you enough for this—and I swear, I will find another companion as soon as I can.”

This time, you interjected softly, your hand resting lightly on the female’s shoulder. “There’s no need,” you said. “Take all the time to grieve the loss of your husband, and if you find someone wonderful, we will rejoice with you. But if your future unfolds in the warm embrace of your children alone, rest assured we will be just as content. It is your life to live and your path to choose.”

She nodded, her lip quivering as she turned once more to Eris. “My lord, my lady, you are too kind.”

“We are here to care for you,” Eris replied with sincerity. “It is the sole purpose of our duty—to ensure that you not only survive, but live.”

The toddler nestled his soft, curled hair into the crook of his mother’s neck, finding comfort in the warmth of her skin as she tenderly pressed a kiss into the curly brown mop atop his head.

“We will have a contract drawn up for your signature and brought to your home as soon as possible,” Eris continued, his voice steady and reassuring.

The mother nodded gently, whispering soothing words into her son's ear, “Alright my darling, it’s all okay.” With a gentle motion, she let him slip down from her arms to the floor, where the boy immediately sought refuge behind her legs once more. Eris continued to relay the intricate details of the plan as the mother approached you, arms outstretched to reclaim her infant.

Your heart ached with the impending loss of the small, perfect being, the sweetness of their scent lingering in your senses, a fragrance you wished could envelop you all day. But the child wasn’t yours to keep. They belonged to another. Reluctantly, you allowed the mother to take her baby back, and as she did, your arms felt suddenly empty, a hollowness settling deep in the pit of your stomach.

The mother offered her thanks once more before making her way toward the hall, her toddler’s small hand securely clasped in hers, the baby snugly swaddled in the sling against her chest. As the doors closed behind her, you turned to face Eris, feeling the sting of tears pricking at your eyes as you began to ascend the steps. You forced the tears back, choosing to ignore whatever derision Beron might throw your way as you resumed your place on the throne.

Eris glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his hand extending out to rest gently on your knee. He squeezed lightly, offering a touch of reassurance as you continued to hold back the tears pressing insistently at your lids. He knew. He knew how hard it was for you to let go of the babe, to watch another cradle their own child, what you longed for with every fiber of your being.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you turned to face Eris, locking eyes with him as he peeled back the raw layers of vulnerability. His gaze held a fierce tenderness, an intense longing that mirrored your own burning desire. In that fleeting, electrifying moment, amidst the imposing grandeur of the hall and the crushing weight of the responsibilities on both your shoulders, you were stripped down to your most essential selves. Two souls intertwined by a love so profound, it defied all boundaries, yearning desperately to bring forth a child to share in that love. In that instant, you were not the High Lord and his Mate, but simply a mother and father, consumed by an unyielding hunger like thousands of others across the country, aching for a tiny babe to cradle and cherish. Parents with a relentless longing for an unborn child.

#eris x y/n #eris x you #eris x reader #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris and reader #eris and you #eris vanserra and reader #eris vanserra and you #eris vanserra smut #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut fanfiction #acotar fic #eris fic #eris vandaddy #acotar pregnancy fic #acotar pregnant

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grandline-fics · 23 hours ago

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Single Red Rose with Shanks please~ 🌹

DESCRIPTION: Single Red Rose- When your date goes wrong, they come to your rescue

WARNINGS: none come to mind

CHARACTERS: Shanks

WORDS: 1,434

A/N: Thank you @littlemissmav for this valentines request. I had a lot of fun with this one and I hope it's to your liking! 🌹

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

———————

The bar was as uncharacteristically lively for it still being relatively early in the afternoon but this is what happened when the Red Haired Pirates came back for their visits. Their presence never failed to bring a fresh surge of life to the otherwise calm and peaceful island. The best food and drink were always brought out the second their ship appeared on the horizon in swift preparation for when Shanks and the crew disembarked from the Red Force and began their usual route through the city, gathering their loyal fanbase of civilians eager to hear the newest stories of the crews’ exploits and adventures and those begging to go with them when they’d eventually leave again. As always regardless of what the flurry of questions thrown his way was, Shanks merely laughed and told them. “Have a little patience. We’ll eat and drink first and then we’ll talk.”

“What? Please tell me you’re joking!” Your voice cut through Shanks’ attention on the group he was sitting with in the tavern. Mostly because even though you hadn’t yelled your tone was a definite shift from the air of festivity. His attention was also caught because he had noticed you from time to time when he stopped by the island. With his tankard of ale poised at his mouth, Shanks glanced over his shoulder to see you stood in the corner of the room staring at your friend with wide eyes. “You set me up with someone I don’t even know? Are you crazy?!”

“What?” You friend asked with a small shrug, unbothered. “He’s cute in a certain kind of way.”

“So you go out with him then!” You hissed and Shanks held back a chuckle.

“It wasn’t me he wanted to ask out, not that it matters. It’s a double date, so I’ll be there too if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Th-that doesn’t matter. What possessed you say yes on my behalf and without even talking to me about it first?” You asked, unable to wrap your head around what was thrown at you. You thought you were having a night out with your friend, now you were facing the reality that a date you hadn’t agreed to was on their way.

“There wasn’t much time. Besides every time I try to set you up with someone you back out. I think this’ll be fun, you need to put yourself out there again.” Your friend assured you with a smile. “Come on, it’s almost time to meet them. You’ll be thanking me tomorrow for this, I just know it.”

“I highly doubt that.” You grumbled, being pulled from the tavern to the meeting spot. You were still not happy that your friend had yet to apologise for all but forcing you into this with no warning. You were so wrapped up your forced date that you failed to notice you’d gotten Shanks’ attention the whole time, his keen gaze following you as you left the tavern against your will. With you gone, Shanks effortless reentered the conversation currently happening at the table like nothing had happened but his curiosity was definitely piqued.

For the next hour he remained at the bar, enjoying the awed stares as the stories were shared and drinks continued to flow. Still though Shanks couldn’t stop thinking about your unhappy expression as you were dragged from the bar. It was so unlike you because anytime he did spot you in his visits here you were always smiling so sweetly. It didn’t sit right with him that you were clearly uncomfortable but who knew? Perhaps the date was actually working out well as your friend had predicted it would. Knowing he couldn’t properly enjoy himself until he had his answer, Shanks got to his feet and lightly clapped Benn on the shoulder. “Going for a change of scenery. Might be back in a bit.”

Used to his Captain’s random whims, Benn merely nodded and waved him off. He’d either see Shanks back here, back on the ship or randomly the next day at some stage depending on what kind of mischief he managed to come across on his solo wandering. Shanks didn’t know exactly where you’d gone for your date but he'd been to the island enough times to know the key spots couples tended to go to-especially for first dates- and headed for those first. The first couple places got him nowhere but the third place he spotted you immediately. Your friend and her date were all but draped over each other while you were the complete opposite to your date. You sat angled in your seat, trying to create space between you and him while he was oblivious and attempting to convince you to come closer.

“Promise I won’t bite, don’t be shy and come closer.”

“I’m happy where I am thanks.” Oh this was painful to watch and Shanks’ eyes narrowed slightly when he saw your date gearing up to press again for you to move closer to him. Immediately he approached, throwing his arm out wide and calling out to you. “Baby, there you are!” You and the others in the building looked his way and when you saw the Emperor’s stare on you, you choked on your drink. No. There was no way he was talking to you and yet here he was, not looking anywhere else but your face. “I was looking everywhere for you. I know I was a little late but that’s no reason to go out with someone else to make me jealous.”

You could only part your lips and try to remember how to speak but nothing coherent was coming to you. All you could really register firmly in your mind was Shanks was in front of you. Your shock only grew when he fell to his knees in front of your seat and took your hand into his. “Please give me another chance. Just say the word and I’ll sweep you off your feet all over again.”

Shanks gave you a wink that your date couldn’t see, wordlessly telling you to play along. At the prospect of cutting the date short your brain began to function again and you let out a small laugh. “Sweep me off my feet, huh?” You repeated, feeling your nerves settle when Shanks’ strong fingers lightly squeezed yours in reassurance. Feeling stronger you cleared your throat and tried to look convincing enough that the others wouldn’t see through the lie. “I suppose giving you a second chance is the least I could do seeing as you tracked me down.”

Grinning Shanks was on his feet in seconds and in a swift but smooth motion had you lifted onto your feet and effortlessly guiding you outside. “Seriously thank you for that, you’re a life saver.”

“Life saver?” Shanks grinned as you let out a calming breath, leaning against a random building he’d stopped beside. “He that bad?”

“Apart from the backhanded compliments, blatantly eyeing up others, and ordering more drinks before I was finished my first one yeah he was swell.” You sighed. You had a feeling your friend only dragged you along on the date because hers asked if she knew anyone for his friend and it had nothing to do with getting you to ‘put yourself out there.’ Still Shanks didn't need to hear any of that, he’d done his part so you smiled at him once more and moved to walk again. “Thanks again.”

“Woah, where do you think you’re going?” Shanks asked, falling into step beside you but remaining a gentleman by not touching you. Last thing he wanted was to take you from one uncomfortable situation and put you in another. “I promised to sweep you off your feet, remember. That's if you want to?”

“You were serious?” You asked in surprised, looking to see he his expression showed no deception. There was no denying he was a very handsome man and it wasn’t everyday you got an offer of a date with someone like him. “Okay, I did promise you a second chance after all. Sweep away.” Grinning Shanks stepped a little closer and took your hand to lead you somewhere different, glancing at you when you laughed softly. “When you got on your knees back there and pretended to beg for me to take you back I thought you were going to propose.”

“I guess it did look like that.” Shanks agreed with a laugh before offering you a playful smile. “But before we move on to marriage we’ll eat and drink first…then we’ll talk.”

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TAG LIST (If I��ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya , @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow , @pao198391 , @glitchtricks94 , @nina-ya , @48daisies , @rosemary-lungs , @sagyunaro , @artemis162534 , @thecraftywriter

#one piece #one piece fic #one piece scenario #one piece fanfiction #one piece imagines #grandline fics valentines event #one piece x you #one piece x reader #shanks x reader #shanks x you #one piece shanks #red haired shanks #red hair shanks #akagami no shanks #shanks #shanks op #shanks one piece #red haired shanks x you #red haired shanks x reader

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drinkyourvillainjuice · 22 hours ago

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Tomorrow free update for Drink Your Villain Juice

also did you know that on the Patreon, there are exclusive POVs from various members of the cast... for example, Beth who has just been released... here is the first page (and it's 6000 words long! and multiple choices!)....

As the blinding blaze of twin novas fades, stars blinking across Beth’s vision, a sudden weight yanks her to the side. There’s an uncanny feeling of connection, of sensing with a part of herself that didn’t exist before this moment.

Beside her, Prii screams, shuddering wildly. Something cracks, and Beth’s stomach lurches as she realises it’s her friend’s skull. Blood pours down their face, horns pushing through flesh and bone, the screams reaching a fever pitch—

“Miss Volkova?”

Beth startles. Her eyes refocus. Where—who—

DPR Hexbury. Officer Jalen Lamont. He’s seated across from her, hands laced together and resting on the table. A mug of coffee sits in front of her, untouched and probably stone cold.

“I’m sorry,” Beth rasps, throat crackling. “Can you repeat that?”

“Of course.” Lamont smiles. He’s a few years older than her, if she’s to guess, though the thick beard might be throwing her off.

Beth’s never felt less of an adult.

Lamont continues. “As a fresh flare, our responsibility is to ensure that you can learn to use your powers safely, while supporting you through this difficult time.” He sighs. “What happened to you was horrible, and you shouldn’t have to handle it alone.”

“My friends,” Beth mumbles for the sixth or seventh time. She can’t help it. Prii, Morgan, and Shauna are still in danger. Grant’s still in danger, a couple rooms away down three pints of blood. Beth’s not the one who needs help.

“We’re doing everything we can,” Lamont replies for the fourth or fifth time with the same patience as the first. “Sky Surfer and Lockstep have taken every available officer to investigate the area you described.” Lamont has told her that already too. The mask names barely mean anything to her; she’s never paid parahumans much mind beyond their presence being a simple fact of life. Hexbury isn’t the kind of place where heroes and villains battle upon the streets.

Underneath said streets? It appears that’s a separate story.

The reality of the situation fades in and out. It’s morning now, Beth thinks. She hasn’t slept. She isn’t sure she’ll ever sleep again. If she squeezes her eyes closed hard enough, she’ll reopen them surrounded by her friends, preparing for an ‘adventure’ worthy of the name only after judicious video editing. Grant will tease, Shauna will worry, Prii will herd the cats, and Morgan—

Lamont is speaking again. “Our current concern is that whoever is behind this will go to ground, especially if what happened hits the media.” Lamont lets out a small sigh, brow creasing with sympathy. “I’m sorry for what you went through. That creature you encountered sounds… monstrous, and in my books you handled yourself remarkably well.”

“She claims her friend’s injuries were inflicted by some kind of mutated animal. Frankly, if she wasn’t dragging around half the metal in every room she enters, we wouldn’t even be bothering you with this. I suspect drugs—”

“Thanks, doctor, we’ll take it from here. Appreciate your discretion.”

The hospital staff had taken one look at Beth, blood-splattered, babbling in panic, and hauling around Grant’s unconscious body, and written her off. Lamont has accepted everything she’s told him at face value, from what she and the others were doing in that place to her description of the monster.

She still can’t accept the compliment. She ‘handled herself well’? She left almost everyone behind.

#beth (dyvj)#patreon update

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thefandomsfervent · 1 day ago

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JayVik x Reader Personal Pigments (Part 26) -Rose Lake

Find my imagine that inspired it here. Previous and next chapter will be linked at the bottom.

Someone commented as a joke on Ao3 a while back that they hope the typical fanfiction author thing doesn’t happen to me but it did happen lol. I have a heart condition that got me real fucked up this past week and some other life things that prevented me from writing.

Admittedly I have lost steam with this story, it is one I still want to tell but I’m hitting a wall because of so many other ideas bouncing around! This is the end of part one while I work on maybe one - two other fics but I will return to this one. When I first started it I wanted it to span the whole show, i.e reader would be there for all parts of the show with very little canon divergence. I still want to do that but maybe not as in depth as I first imagined it. I feel like this will be a story I drop and pick up and come back to randomly once things are further established relationship wise between our three mains.

Long story short, I’ll be taking a quick hiatus of maybe a month or so with this story, coming back for regular updates to establish more of the relationship, another hiatus, then after that it will be tidbit chapters for large canon events in the show. Sort of a “and then this” kind of situation. Thank you guys so much for your patience and support. Keep an eye out for the other stories set for between now and March <3 stay safe and hydrated out there. This is the end of part 1, Hiatus officially starts now <3

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It was finally here. The day of the Gala. And what a joyous occasion it was to be at the Academy for days like today. When the people bustling about in the halls had smiles and were tittering with excitement. “Not a care in the world for personal space or expediency.” Some part of himself did truly enjoy the liveliness it brought to the faces of his peers. But another, more pressing and bitter, part of Viktor was growing more and more frustrated with how crowded the halls had become. Caterers, assistants, movers, florists, and more had joined the usual foot traffic.

This usually would not have been a problem. Perks of having a lab so deep into the Academy walls and a room that was close to it. But today was not just Gala day. It was return every overdue book day. It was talking with the council about more funding day. It was another day with another set of tasks to get done that only served to get in the way of things he actually wanted or needed to be doing. It was days like today where he did consider Heimerdinger’s offer for a Hextech assistant. Considering how quickly he and Jayce had warmed up to you he wondered if it wouldn’t be so bad, letting more people into their life, their dream. The kind thought interrupted by another person bumping into his side. A one-worded apology barely made it through the thrum of people and whoever it was wasn’t even visible to him by the time he looked up.

When he finally returns to the lab to drop off the edited list of things that the council wanted done before they could “consider” funding the next leg of the project, Viktor doesn’t immediately notice the change. How the lab is quieter and colder than usual. After taking a moment to settle he can feel it. The difference. And the thought comes back, about having more people, about how quickly they had warmed up to you. And how you had been warm to them. In this past year there had been two people that had started to change his perspective on connections. They didn’t entirely need to be for some gained profit, not that he truly ascribed

to that belief. But he did see many people in Piltover who did, felt like it was all he had met.

There was also Heimerdinger, but as a Yordle the professor held lifetimes of knowledge and mannerisms that were indiscernible to most. But Jayce. But you. Had undeniably connected with him, had been kind. Perhaps that was just the kind of people that you were, and not because of him at all. Viktor knew how to play into charisma, how to snare people to get things done. Unfortunate games one had to play to make it anywhere really, Piltover and Zaun were not so different in that regard. Yet it was a game he did not like to play, it was tiring, and usually boring. Tonight’s gala would be full of that. Inventor’s older and younger than him from the Academy and elsewhere in this accursed city would be there. To flaunt themselves and their money and their oh so beloved progress. He had read the invitation, and despite it saying that it would be for the “brightest minds” of Piltover it would undoubtedly host too many prying eyes and greedy hands.

Jayce had agreed with him that they would keep talk of Hextech to a minimum tonight, they had the Council's approval and funding. Limited, but it was given to them nonetheless. Something that many would do anything to get. Tonight would be purely for mingling on Jayce’s part and good drinks and food for Viktor. Although, the idea of seeing you there too was quite the incentive. When you had said you wanted to go it hadn’t immediately changed his mind about it. But when Jayce had pulled him into bed that night with convincing hands and words he’d been shown a new perspective. In all your time there, they hadn’t seen much of you out of the lab. Didn’t know what you were like outside of their stuffy uniforms and your paint stained clothes.

He could admit to himself, and some nights to Jayce, that he did want to know more. To see more. Thoughts that not only bring heat under his skin but set his mind alight. You were good company, pleasant conversation, and had a driven core. These attributes may not seem like much to others meant a lot to him. Viktor doesn’t know when he made it to your station but he’s looking at your painting.

He had been told that it can take years to do large paintings. Information he had heard in passing and had heard directly from you. The layering and glossing and glazing could be quite the lengthy process. It was hard to believe that when he had seen you crank out swathes of color so quickly. Overtime he understood, had watched you rub out section after section, going over areas with the tiniest brush for “highlights” and it had been interesting to see another person’s process.

Viktor can see the care you had for your craft in every brush stroke here. The paint was thicker in some finalized spots, where you had continuously layered and where you had let your brush texture be visible. You had let him touch it once, a section that was dried. Had shown him how to let his fingers drag lightly over the canvas to feel every smooth swipe and bump. It was an early morning, where you had stayed late in a burst of inspiration on the flowers bordering it and Viktor had been sticking to his usual schedule. He smiles at the memory. You had been blushing so heavily, the heat coming off of your skin in waves. Stuttering over your words when he had grazed your hand one too many times. It was flattering to see the effect he had on you. Viktor was no stranger to people’s attraction, but yours was so sweet. As if you didn’t know what to do with it.

Something that he and Jayce had hoped to change tonight.

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Water rushed down your back as you lifted your arms to stretch under its heat. Scented soaps with their bubbled lathers rinsing off and pooling towards the drain. You watched as they swirled around it, eyes following a particularly big bubble before it popped. You had exfoliated, washed, shaved, lathered, rinsed, lathered, rinsed. If you didn’t get out now you’d be all pruney in the fingers, but the water was warm and you were avoiding getting ready. Despite all the nerves leading up to the Gala you were oddly calm today. Had cleaned and eaten and even folded laundry. But as soon as you started getting ready it was an odd dread that settled in your stomach. Excitement and anxiety always get confused the closer you got to whatever new event awaited you. Seems like today would be no different.

The handle squeaks as you shut off the water, heavy drops of it hitting the tub as it slows. It’s a deep breath you take, lungs filling with the steam of the bathroom. The air was thick but it helps to calm your nerves. Tonight would likely be no different from any other gathering you’d been to since moving from Zaun. People talking to other people, taking up space and wasting words to fluff up their feathers and boost egos. Usually it didn’t bother you too much, you could just as easily blend into the wall as you could talk to other party-goers. It’s just that this time it wasn’t an even playing field. You were no scientist or inventor. At every gallery opening, exhibition talk, and art presentation you were an artist amongst artists. You could talk technique, influence, and materials with anyone there. Not tonight.

You still weren’t sure if it was Mel’s doing that you were included in that invitation, hadn’t seen her to ask. Not that you would have. Doing so would imply that you took her parting words as if they had been directed to you. They had been. But admitting that your admiration of your other invitees was so obvious meant that they may have noticed it too. And that was not something you had the brain power to deal with right now. So you force your focus to be on getting ready. The towel is fluffy against your skin, still warm from when you had brought them inside from drying in the sun. You look to the window of your room, the sun still blazing that same ungodly summer heat. It makes you grateful that the Gala was set for the late evening, the sun would be setting just as people were to arrive. A strategic decision to not just curb the heat, but to make sure that all the gold filigree of the city, of the Academy, would be gleaming.

Architecture was design, and design was intentional. Functionality aside, beauty and aesthetics reigned supreme in displaying power. You wonder if that was something anyone else had noticed, or if it was a design feature meant to wow people from outside Piltover. Another deep breath in, and then a fast exhale. You wouldn’t need much time to get ready, but you still had to do it. Nerves or not. Lotions, perfume, creams, powders. A routine to follow and to distract you. This could be fun, getting ready. Getting yourself together. The clock ticks on in your room, a steady clicking that fades into the background while you work. Twisting portions of your hair and pinning them in place, embellishing with thin rounded golden leaves. Wires that could be hidden and bent into place. It was a set you had bought many years ago for one of your first galleries. A staple in your wardrobe for nights like these. It matched other jewelry you’ve acquired over the years, bracelets and earrings and necklaces that you wore interchangeably but very rarely in the hopes that you could sell them later on in life with little damage to them.

Tonight you chose long earrings, ones that dangled delicate berries down to your neck, almost to your shoulders. It had a matching necklace that you were able to weave some of the leaves around. The necklace was long and it pulled the eyes down to your chest. An expansive space of exposed skin, accentuated by the plunging neckline from your dress. A garnet red fabric, rich and soft against your skin. It crossed but opened in the back exposing your spine and dipped to your waist. It was a good dress, and had gotten you through a few different shows. The cut of it made it easy to reconfigure and reuse. You’d tailored it all sorts of ways in the past, adding and removing appliques and embellishments. Red filigree that clung around the edges where fabric met skin. It was a bit more form fitting than it was when you first bought it, age and time on both you and the dress. Despite the wear and tear you put it through, it held up. Quality fabric that took the needle and thread well, much different from the scraps you’d pieced together over and over again in Zaun.

There’s a tightness in your heart at that thought. What you’d give to be able to share this with the people that you had left there. Bitterness always visited these nights, that Piltover was a place that could have all this lavish life while Zaun had nothing. That you were part of Piltover now and fed into these ideals even if you didn’t agree with them. Bitterness and shame, staining your thoughts and your cheeks. Feelings that you have to tuck away for when the night is over. Being sad and nervous was a pitiful combination that you did not want lingering over your shoulder when you made it to the event hall. It’s all the way across the Academy, far from your provided room. Final touches and readjustments, further stalling the journey you’d have to make to get there. But eventually the clock face tells you it’s time to leave, hands pointing to numbers and urging you to the door. Uneasy clacking of your heels matches the heartbeat in your veins when you make it to the hallway.

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The music could be heard well before you made it to the corner that would take you to the grand entrance of the hall. Laughter and instruments moving through the air almost tangibly, getting louder with every step you take. When you round the corner the doors are wide open letting you see into the first room. Everyone dressed in finery, groups mingling in cloisters and people smoothly shifting from one space to another. In front of the open entryway is a collection of enforcers, two flanking either side of the doors. Making their own conversations with each other and the attendees making their way past the podium. A very tall man stands behind it, a large open book in front of him and a fake smile stretching his cheeks with that same placating blank look of customer service behind his eyes. It’s a short walk up to him, your eyes moving between the crowd ahead and the decorations set all around you.

“Welcome to the Innovator’s Gala,” his voice is smooth and charismatic, an energy that doesn’t reach the top half of his face. “Your name please?” You give it to him. He flips through a couple pages. A long pen tracing the length of the page before he finds yours. Tapping the pen to the page he waves you through. He barely gets through his goodbye to you before starting to greet the next guest “Have a lovely nigh- Welcome to the Innovator’s Gala.” With how many people already here, you wonder how long he’s been there. Saying the same script over and over again. One set of enforcers nods their heads in acknowledgment before continuing their conversation. You nod back as you walk through the doors.

There was no real plan for tonight. Just to get here and at some point find Jayce and Viktor. The problem, you’re realizing, is that you never set a meeting place or time. You had all three agreed to come, to make an appearance. That may be all that they do, at the very least it may be all that Viktor does. It was no secret that this was not how he liked to spend his evenings. It meant that you would just have to bide your time and hope to see them. You make your way deeper into the room, pillars were decorated in their usual gold but added to that were various lengths of draping cloth. It filtered the lingering light coming in from the ceiling-tall windows. Caterers weaving through the groups with trays of finger foods and cocktails, carefully balancing the weights on golden trays. You’re offered morsel after morsel as you try to move to the next room, trying to find where the music is.

A stage is set with several musicians, all playing their instruments. There are a few groups of people here. Some are at the tables and chairs set around the room’s border, some are coupled off closer to the center of the room swaying with the melody. You spy an open table, none of the seats were taken. It was early enough in the night that things weren’t too crowded, you could sit until things picked up. And you would have done that if a hand hadn’t dragged its way across your shoulders, quickly trailing down an arm to hold up your hand. You jump at the contact, going to pull away when a figure is in front of you.

“Beautiful night isn’t it? What brings you here?” It’s a person you don’t recognize, some man with his hair gelled back and his suit sleeves rolled up. You try to pull your hand back to respond but he keeps a slight grip, nothing too tight but uncomfortable. A second tug and your hand is free.

You keep your voice even, disinterested but polite. “An invitation, same as y-.”

“Hmm, a fellow inventor then? Brains and Beauty, stellar combination.” A line you are sure he has used many times before. Something in his smile isn’t threatening, but annoying. Your eyes narrow at the interruption.

“Not an inventor. Just here to-”

“To make connections then, an investor?” This night was going so well already, the familiar coiling of anger in your stomach. You try to step back and away, hoping to slip into the growing crowd but your back hits a warm wall.

“Persistent guy, aren’t you?” A voice you know speaks before you, big hands settling on your shoulders. “Little tip, if you’re trying to pick up a lady, let her finish her sentences.” You look up behind you, Jayce. The relief is immediate, a sigh and greeting following.

“Sorry man, didn’t realize she was taken.” He turns on his heel walking away, finding a group of women nearby. The annoyance festers up almost immediately at not only a lack of acknowledgement to you but also the quickness in how he stalks off to find anyone else. Those poor ladies. You must not be able to hide the disgust on your face because Jayce’s laugh shakes you. And the implication of that man’s statement sinks in. Your bare back to Jayce’s front, his hands on your shoulders rubbing those soothing circles, your head leaning against his chest as you look up at him. His usual charismatic smile beaming down to you, the little gap in his front teeth barely visible behind his full lips.

“Jayce, hi.” You peel away, trying to keep heat out of your face. Hard to do while maintaining eye contact. Harder to do when you feel the tips of his fingers drag gently on your skin as you turn to face him properly.

“Hi yourself, hope it was okay that I stepped in there.” He’s nodding behind you, his arms now pressed behind his back while he talks to you.

“Yes, well, I would have gotten to it if he’d let me speak.” You both give a soft chuckle at that. “But it certainly helped, thank you.” Your eyes dance around the room for a second before looking back at Jayce. He’s in a nice suit, white and gold, impossibly wide shoulders made wider by the cut of it. A red tie and textured black button up. Little hammer cufflinks, a detail that makes you smile before you note that he’s here alone. “Where’s Viktor? Did he change his mind?”

“Surprisingly, no. Actually he’s-” You go to follow his now raising arm, hand pointing behind you but Vitkor’s voice cuts in.

“It is good to see you. We were worried that it may be impossible if the night went on too long.”

He and Jayce had made it to the Gala maybe all of thirty minutes before you, weaving their own way through the rooms of the event hall. Had made the same path as you, going to the entertainment room to find seating and less conversation. Although, it seems that they were luckier than you in that regard. It was not like he didn’t see what that man saw in you. You looked terrific tonight, and your scanning eyes and turning head gave you a deer-like look. Eyes wide as you looked around you, all alone and in that tantalizing red. Gold tastefully accenting you to make you look like some of Piltover’s finest. He had already pointed Jayce in your direction before you’d been circled, watching with annoyed interest at how the scene played out before him.

Viktor won’t deny the feelings at seeing you be touched like that, not that it was necessarily his to feel yet. But just for you, at the indignation you had to feel when that man carelessly touched you, refused to let your hands go at first. At how you were continually interrupted. Though, it was amusing seeing Jayce pick up his pace trying to get over to you. And how it warmed his chest to see the two of you posed like that, you leaning into Jayce as though it was natural. He didn’t realize how flush your face was until he made his own way over. It was deliciously creeping down your neck, to your very exposed back. He can’t help the graze of a knuckle before unfurling his hand to press flat against your waist. Guising it as care, in part, it was.

“Are you alright?” You were warm, jumping at the contact, a small gasp making its way out before you could stop it. His hand was cold but tender, softly becoming flush against you. Viktor gives you a nonchalant smile, one that looks like it was meant to comfort. But Jayce catches his gaze, knows exactly what he’s doing. Eyes dipping to where he can see Viktor’s hand disappear behind you.

“Yes, thank you.” What was happening? What. Was. Happening. “You both look great, who knew the lab men had it in them.” You try to laugh but it is cut short when you feel Viktor’s hand trail up your spine, those lithe fingers pulling away. But not fully, fingertips barely grazing. A tingling feeling that makes you warmer in ways you don’t want to be feeling in this very public space. You take a small breath in to steel yourself. It lets you step away, to look at him and Jayce. Viktor’s in much darker attire, a deep brown vest instead of a suit top, a sleek form-fitting black button up below it. A jewel-toned red satin tie tucked into it. His cane was different, golden filigree starting from the handle and moving down. A cushion like handle where his hand rested, the same color as his tie.

“Could say the same about you, have a lot of these hidden away?” Was this flirting? Surely not. Was this just how they acted in places like this, when their focus wasn’t directly in front of them in the form of crystals and metals? Surely not.

You almost don’t register Jayce’s question, not when he’s moving his hands from behind him. Those powerful arms straining in the sleeves of his suit jacket. “None that you guys will be seeing.” It’s a joke, you’d let them see anything. A shameful thought that you try to push back. A little skin to skin contact and suddenly you have no restraint. You laugh when he feigns being hurt. “Have you been here long? Securing investments?” The look on Viktor’s face is answer enough. His lip curled back in unfiltered disgust at the thought. This time it’s Jayce who laughs, reaching to pat Viktor’s shoulder.

“Not tonight, tonight is about everything but that.” And he gives that smile again, so very bright and full of a kind of sweetness that lights his whole face. It’s a look that you see often, not really reserved for anyone but it’s hard to take the full power of it right at you. It makes you aware of how truly charming he is. Unwittingly or otherwise, Jayce could have any room eating out the palm of his hand. A contrast to the dark smooth energy that you caught from Viktor every now and again. The two of them here, being so careful looking out for you. And here you were, wanting to bask in their gazes. But not being able to truly enjoy it.

Tonight was not the night for self-pity. As Jayce had said, tonight is about everything but that. “Well, why don’t I grab us some drinks and we can enjoy the music then.” You turn to the next room where the drink table had been when you feel an arm hook beneath yours. Viktor is by your side.

“You’ll need a guide back to our table. Besides, we -eh, wouldn’t want you to get caught again.” His voice is low and close to your ear, for you to hear over the growing cacophony of people. And nothing else. It takes everything in you to face him, ignoring how close his face is to yours when you turn.

“Didn’t realize I needed a chaperone tonight.” You had no idea what you were doing, this was completely out of your element. They were your friends. Every moment of tonight was a lovely sort of torture you would think of often.

“In that dress you’ll need a lot more than a chaperone. You look exquisite.” A new voice joins the conversation and Viktor pulls away.

“Mel! I didn’t think I’d get to see you tonight.” It’s a wide smile you give her. She was in a beautiful ivory pantsuit, perfectly cinched in all the right places, elongating all her limbs for powerful elegance. Long sheer paneling on her shoulders that would billow behind her with every step, that were currently settling by her legs. They fluttered with every step of the people around her, as if the air itself wanted to curl and caress around her. She was an artist like you, and you know that every decision she made tonight was to exude power and allure. And it was working.

“I hope you boys don’t mind if I steal her for a moment.” She extends a hand towards you, like a goddess beckoning a follower. “She’ll be back safe and sound, I assure you.” Viktor is giving her a polite smile, but the lines around his eyes are tight. Jayce is nodding along to both you and Mel when you give him and Viktor a wave. Mel’s hand is soft in yours as she pulls you away. They wait until both of your backs disappear into the crowd before speaking.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you Vik.” He tucks a piece of Viktor’s hair behind an ear, letting his hand linger on the side of his neck.

“Morbid curiosity is more like it. I think that she could just as easily sweep Y/N off her feet as either of us if we aren’t careful.”

“You worry too much.” Jayce is laughing as he tries to get both of them back to their table.

“And you are too easy to please. I bet you would love to see the two of them together.” Viktor takes Jayce’s arm in his as he walks forward. A teasing lilt and glow in his eyes.

“And you wouldn’t?” He leans in at that, having to stoop his head down to reach Viktor’s ear. “Two gorgeous women together doesn’t do anything to that brilliant mind of yours?” He makes sure that his lips brush the shell, delighted at the slight change in grip he feels on his forearm.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” But it will pull a smile out from him as they sit and await your return.

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“Where is Elora?” You’d reached the drink table awhile ago, trying to ignore all the new attention that was being directed to you in Mel Medarda’s presence. Gazes that looked at you both with all sorts of intentions.

“She isn’t always by my side you know.” A small airy laugh as Mel grabs a glass of some amber liquid. A drink that was likely strong and expensive. “But she is around here somewhere, enjoying the festivities I’m sure.” She waves her hand at that, fingers wiggling around her glass. “Have you had the opportunity to speak to them about advertising?”

“Yes! No? Well-”, she cocks her brow at that. “I brought it up to them, that if they needed anything in that regard to let me know. Which they agree to, but I don’t think-”

“Good, that’s good.” Her voice like honey and she smiles at you. Under her gaze anyone could feel small or grand, her will could make either happen instantly. “We’ll keep that in mind as they continue their progress. Speaking of which,” she pauses to hand you a glass of your own.

“Oh I don’t think-” it’s not that you don’t drink, but tonight you needed to be aware of yourself. Self-control was already slipping as it was and now that people had seen you with a Councilor you didn’t want to be caught lacking in any way.

“And here I thought you being here meant that you weren’t afraid of a challenge.” She’s teasing, you can tell that much. That she wouldn’t make you take a drink. Still, you find your fingers wrapping around the offered glass. You could just hold onto it, pass it off to Viktor or Jayce when you got to their table.

“I didn’t realize that there was one.”

“Don’t play coy now, you’ve encountered enough wolves tonight to know that being here is a statement on its own.” Mel nods to someone passing by, raising her hand and smiling to another.

You laugh, “It was one overzealous guy.” You reach to grab another glass, a champagne for Jayce.

“You’re very sweet, but he’s not who I’m talking about.” Green eyes gleaming over the rim of her glass as she takes a sip. The recognition she’s looking for in your face must not appear because her eyes widen in understanding. Then narrow in amusement.

“Careful dear, or they’ll eat you alive tonight.” She reaches out, perfectly manicured hand patting your cheek. She grins at your immediate flush. “If they don't, someone will surely try to stake a claim. You’re ripe for the picking.” Her thumb brushes over the apple of your cheek before pulling away. She trades her empty drink for a whiskey glass and gestures for you to move. “Why don’t we head back, don’t want to keep them waiting too long do we?”

The walk back to your table is too quick, not enough to process all that has happened tonight. If one more out-of-reach attractive person touched you flirtatiously you were going to explode actually. And you are certain that whatever blush Mel had inspired is only brighter when you make it there. Still, you made it back. Placing both of the drinks you’re holding onto the table you seat yourself.

“Lovely company as always, you all have a fun night.” She places the whiskey by Viktor before turning.

“Not joining us?” Jayce asks, a look over her shoulder in his direction.

“Wouldn’t want to interrupt any plans.” Her knowing eyes shift to you, and you want to sink into yourself. And with that she leaves the three of you. The clink of glasses pulls your attention, and you see Jayce and Viktor raising their glasses together, prompting you to do the same. Jayce says some cheer as the three glasses come together, it’s barely audible over the rush in your ears and the music behind you. It was going to be a long night.

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--.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙-Part 25.-Next Part will be linked here.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .--

------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

thanks again for all the love and patience this story has gotten, it has inspired me to write more. And I do want to write more for this story, it'll just be a minute.

#personal pigments #arcane #viktor arcane #fanfiction #viktor league of legends #viktor lol #fanfic #x reader #jayvik #jayce talis #jayvikmel #jayvik x reader #jayvik x you

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whytheylosttheirminds · 19 hours ago

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Y’ALL

I finished the whole outline for DCMK ch 9 part 2 and wrote a good chunk of it and I’m sooo excited for this part! shit is getting MESSY the shenanigans and tomfoolery are BACK!!

AND I’ve had a bunch of ideas for the next parts and where it’s going from here and GAH I’m just so happy. The floodgates have opened and I feel like my story is coming home to me and I’ve missed it so much 🥹💘

Thank you for your patience I swear it’ll be worth it!!

#coming SOON #don’t call me kid blabs #my babies are back

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fidesvirtusobsession · 2 days ago

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𝔄 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔡

YANDERE VAMPIRE X AFAB READER

Main story

The dense forest hummed with life, the scent of damp earth and wildflowers lingering in the air. Twilight had begun to creep through the trees, casting elongated shadows along the winding path that led to the cottage at the heart of the woods.

Alaric walked with purpose, his steps soundless against the forest floor. It wasn’t often that he ventured into the depths of these woods, but tonight was an exception. He had business with the witch.

Or rather, an excuse to see her again.

(Y/n) had made it clear that she did not fear him, despite what he was. Their interactions were often laced with teasing and curiosity—she never bowed her head or recoiled at his presence. If anything, she tested his patience with her sharp tongue and quick wit.

He supposed that was why he kept returning.

A sudden rustling from above snapped him out of his thoughts. His instincts sharpened, senses flaring, but before he could react further—

Thump.

A body fell from the tree above, straight into his waiting arms.

Alaric barely flinched, his hands gripping soft fabric as he steadied the unexpected weight against his chest. The scent of wild herbs and honeyed wood filled his senses, and when he glanced down, he was met with (Y/n)’s wide eyes blinking up at him in sheer surprise.

"Well, this is new," he murmured, brow arching.

(Y/n) let out a breath, looking thoroughly disgruntled as she pushed stray leaves from her hair. "I was doing perfectly fine before gravity betrayed me, I’ll have you know."

Alaric smirked. "Is that so?"

She huffed, squirming slightly. "You can put me down now, vampire."

"And risk you tumbling down again? I think not."

(Y/n) scowled, though there was no real heat behind it. "I was collecting nightshade, if you must know. The best ones grow near the top."

Alaric glanced up at the towering branches above. "And you thought climbing would be wise?"

"I had it under control," she insisted.

Alaric hummed, unimpressed. "Clearly."

She narrowed her eyes at him before sighing in defeat. "Fine. Thank you for catching me. Now put me down before your ego inflates any further."

With an amused chuckle, Alaric finally obliged, setting her down with deliberate slowness. She dusted off her skirts and looked up at him, lips twitching.

"Tell me, Alaric," she mused, tilting her head. "Do vampires often lurk beneath trees just in time to catch falling witches?"

He took a step closer, leaning down slightly, voice smooth as silk. "Only when they have impeccable timing."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, but he didn’t miss the faintest hint of a smile that played at her lips.

"Come inside, then," she sighed. "Since you’re here, I assume you need something."

Alaric watched as she turned toward her cottage, a warmth settling in his chest that had nothing to do with the night air.

Yes, he had come here with a purpose. But for now, he found he didn’t mind the distractions.

The forest air was crisp with the lingering scent of pine and damp earth as (Y/n) led the way toward her cottage, her pace unhurried despite her earlier tumble. Alaric walked beside her, his steps silent, hands clasped loosely behind his back.

She, on the other hand, was far from silent.

"You know, most people don't appreciate the power of natural remedies," (Y/n) mused, brushing her fingers along a cluster of delicate white blossoms as they passed. "Nightshade has its infamous uses, of course, but in small doses, it can be an excellent pain reliever."

Alaric cast her a sidelong glance, intrigued despite himself. "And how does one measure a 'small' dose before it becomes deadly?"

She smirked. "With a steady hand and a very unfortunate test subject."

He chuckled, low and quiet. "Remind me never to accept tea from you."

(Y/n) pressed a hand to her chest in feigned offense. "Alaric, you wound me. I’ll have you know I’ve only poisoned one person in my entire life, and he very much deserved it."

Alaric arched a brow. "Should I be concerned?"

"Only if you plan on crossing me."

He huffed a laugh, but said nothing, allowing her to continue as she plucked a sprig of lavender from a nearby bush and twirled it between her fingers.

"There’s something fascinating about plants, don’t you think?" she said, twirling the stem absentmindedly. "Some heal, some kill, and some do both if you're clever enough. Even the most unassuming flowers can be powerful tools."

Alaric considered this for a moment. "I imagine that’s why so many sought witches in times of war."

(Y/n) nodded. "Exactly. A well-crafted tonic could keep a soldier standing when he should be dead. Or, if brewed differently, send him to an early grave before he even lifts a blade." She glanced up at him. "You’ve lived long enough to see both in action, haven’t you?"

"More times than I care to count," he admitted. His voice carried the weight of centuries, of battlefields lost to time.

(Y/n) studied him for a moment before turning back to the path. "Then you must also know how fragile people are. How easily they break."

"Yes," Alaric murmured. "But you, little witch, seem to enjoy keeping them from breaking."

She smiled softly. "Someone has to."

They walked in silence for a moment, the sound of rustling leaves and distant owl calls filling the space between them. The forest began to thin, revealing a small clearing where her cottage stood—a modest home, nestled among wildflowers and herbs, with a faint trail of smoke curling from the chimney.

Alaric exhaled, glancing around. "Your home suits you."

(Y/n) beamed. "That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me."

He smirked. "Then I shall make sure to say something worse before the night is over."

She laughed, shaking her head as she pushed open the cottage door. "Come inside, vampire. Let's see if I can tempt you with something stronger than blood."

Alaric followed, stepping into the warmth of her world, and for once, he did not feel entirely like a monster.

(Y/n) walked beside Alaric, hands animated as she spoke, excitement shining in her eyes. The winding forest path leading back to her cottage was bathed in the golden glow of the late afternoon sun, casting long shadows over the earth.

"Think about it, Alaric!" she exclaimed, nearly bouncing on her feet. "Right now, most people don’t even consider the importance of breathwork or energy flow in healing. But what if, centuries from now, meditation is widely accepted? What if people learn to use their own bodies to heal? What if they understand how breath controls the heart, the mind, the very essence of life?"

Alaric glanced at her, his usual composed expression softening. He enjoyed seeing her like this—alive with curiosity, her passion spilling into the world like an overflowing cup.

"And how do you propose they come to this realization?" he asked, indulging her.

She huffed, crossing her arms. "Well, that’s the tricky part. Most people are stubborn, stuck in their ways. But maybe, over time, more healers will pass down the knowledge, and it will grow. Maybe it’ll evolve into something I can’t even imagine!" She turned to him suddenly, eyes wide with wonder. "Do you think people in the future will still use herbs? Or will they have something entirely new?"

Alaric smirked. "Knowing humanity, they will likely forsake the old ways in favor of something… unnatural."

(Y/n) gasped, dramatically clutching her chest. "Blasphemy!" She pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You think people will just—just abandon centuries of wisdom? Turn their backs on nature itself?"

His smirk deepened. "I have lived long enough to see men replace candlelight with torches, then torches with lanterns, and lanterns with things you would not even begin to understand. They crave advancement, even at the cost of what once worked perfectly well."

She pouted, thinking this over. "That may be true… but there will always be those who remember. Those who return to the old ways when the new ones fail them." She grinned up at him, mischief dancing in her gaze. "And maybe, centuries from now, someone will be sitting by a fire, just like I do, thinking about me. About us. Wondering how we lived, what we knew, what we left behind."

Alaric tilted his head, watching her thoughtfully. "Perhaps. And what would you want them to remember of you, little witch?"

She stopped walking, placing her hands on her hips as she gazed up at the sky. "That I loved what I did," she said softly. "That I believed in healing. That I believed in balance. And that I was never afraid to dream of what could be."

Alaric’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he chuckled, shaking his head. "A foolish dreamer," he murmured.

She grinned. "The best kind."

And with that, she continued walking, chattering away about the future, while Alaric simply followed, listening.

The scent of dried herbs and earth filled the air as (Y/n) worked diligently at her small wooden table, grinding a mixture of roots and petals into fine dust. The flickering candlelight cast warm shadows across the room, illuminating the dozens of neatly labeled jars and hanging bundles of plants that lined the walls.

Alaric sat in the chair opposite her, his sharp gaze watching her every move with quiet amusement. He had seen many things in his long existence—wars, revolutions, and the rise and fall of entire empires—but few things fascinated him as much as watching (Y/n) when she was lost in her craft.

As she leaned forward to reach for another bundle of dried lavender, he finally noticed it—a few stray leaves tangled in her hair, stubbornly clinging to the wild strands like they had made a home there. His lips pressed into a thin line as he reached forward, plucking one free.

"You should really look after yourself more," he said, his voice edged with mild exasperation.

(Y/n) barely spared him a glance, still focused on crushing the herbs in her mortar. "Oh? And here I thought I was doing just fine. I didn’t realize I was in the presence of a beauty expert," she teased.

Alaric let out a long-suffering sigh, holding up the leaf between his fingers as evidence. "You are covered in remnants of the forest. I imagine you fell out of more trees than just the one I caught you from."

She grinned, eyes twinkling. "Perhaps I have. But that just means the trees like me."

He scoffed. "Or they have deemed you hopeless and decided to toss you out."

(Y/n) gasped in mock offense, clutching her chest. "Betrayed by my own leafy brethren! How tragic."

Alaric merely shook his head, reaching forward again. Before she could react, his fingers brushed against her scalp as he plucked out another leaf, this time one that had been hidden beneath a few tangled strands. His touch was surprisingly gentle, careful. (Y/n) stilled for just a second, caught off guard by the unexpected softness.

"Honestly," he muttered, leaning back once he was satisfied with his work, "how you manage to go about your day looking like you’ve wrestled with a bush is beyond me."

She huffed, crossing her arms. "Oh, I’m sorry, Your Grace. Not all of us have centuries of experience in being effortlessly pristine."

Alaric gave her a dry look. "It is not an issue of age, little witch. It is an issue of basic self-maintenance."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I’ll have you know, I bathe, I brush my hair… It’s just that the forest and I have an agreement. I let it do as it pleases, and in return, it grants me the best herbs."

He raised a skeptical brow. "An agreement?"

"Yes," she said matter-of-factly. "But apparently, you wouldn’t understand, since you’re too busy being an all-powerful, brooding creature of the night."

Alaric exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Hopeless," he muttered under his breath.

(Y/n) only smirked, tossing a stray leaf at him before returning to her work.

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, filling the small cottage with its warmth. Outside, the wind rustled through the trees, whispering against the wooden walls. Inside, seated in front of him on a low stool, (Y/n) sat still—for once—while Alaric carefully combed his fingers through her tangled hair.

She had sighed dramatically when he insisted on doing it, muttering something about how "vampires must have too much free time," but she hadn’t truly protested. If anything, she seemed amused, her head tilted slightly, giving him easy access to the wild strands that had long since defied any semblance of order.

He worked with slow, deliberate movements, untangling each knot with a patience he hadn't realized he possessed. He had seen her climb trees without fear, lecture him about herbs with wild excitement, and laugh at the most absurd things, as if the weight of the world did not rest on her shoulders like it did for so many others. She was not meek, nor was she trying to impress him. She simply was, unapologetically.

And for the first time in centuries, Alaric felt something stir in his chest—something dangerous.

This was different.

(Y/n) was different.

He had known many women throughout his long, weary life. Some had been drawn to him for his power, others for the allure of the unknown. But (Y/n) was neither enchanted by nor intimidated by what he was. She spoke to him as if he were a man, not a creature of the night. She did not seek to charm him, nor did she seek to fear him.

She challenged him.

She made him think.

And as he carefully wove her hair into a loose braid, his fingers brushing against the back of her neck, he realized with quiet certainty—he was falling for her.

Perhaps he already had.

"You’re being awfully quiet," (Y/n) mused, tilting her head slightly. "Usually, this is when you start lecturing me about proper self-care."

Alaric exhaled through his nose, a faint smirk playing at his lips. "Perhaps I am simply savoring the rare moment of your silence."

She gasped, turning slightly to look at him. "You wound me, truly."

He chuckled, securing the end of her braid with a small ribbon. "There. Now you no longer resemble a wild creature lost in the woods."

(Y/n) reached back, running her fingers over the braid. "Hmm. I suppose I’ll allow you to do this again. You’re surprisingly good at it."

He raised an eyebrow. "You assume I would offer."

She grinned, standing up and dusting off her skirts. "Oh, you will. You’re already too invested."

Alaric watched her with sharp, knowing eyes, his smirk fading into something softer.

Yes. Perhaps he was.

Taglist : @yune1337

#yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x mc #yandere oc #yandere #yandere ocs #yandere male x reader #yandere male x yn #yandere male x you #yandere vampire x you #yandere vampire x yn #yandere vamp #yandere vampire x reader

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exalok · 2 years ago

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might post all the tiny self-imposed prompt stuff from a few years back that i for some reason never did. this is your automated warning

#i am TRYING to WRITE but it is HARD #but also i am trying not to try so hard that i have to lie down and do nothing for three months again #thank you for your patience if you are here for the stories!!#yesterday i plonked out half a page in three hours for an actual fic (it's a new wip i'm so sorry i have apparently lost all self-control)#and then an entire page in one but it was just corvo and daud kissing each other okay. treats for me. no stakes no plot just smooching #gonna have to make a new ao3 collection for non-raunchy non-prompts if this goes on #or should i start just posting these individually? i'm scared of tiny fic for some reason #like if i don't write enough people will be annoyed #anyway sorry for writing five times as much in the tags as in the body of the post i'm done now

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remyfire · 1 year ago

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"Why don't I give you one, then?" It takes BJ a moment to catch up. "A…" "A fantasy," Hawk replies. "If you have to save all that mental energy for doctoring later." "You tell me a fantasy," BJ says softly, suddenly so conscious of the thin state of their tent walls. "And I take care of my little situation?" Hawk hums as he shrugs. "Hey, what you do with it is up to you. I'm only running my mouth." ~~~ Weeks after an unexpected passionate encounter with Hawkeye in Seoul, BJ struggles to figure out why Hawk seems to be so uncertain about picking up a casual sexual relationship with him—just friends burning off steam. But when Hawkeye suddenly offers to narrate an erotic fantasy for BJ, the rules of the game they're playing begin to rapidly shift.

This is the first sequel to my hunnihawk fic, Scratching The Itch, and the second story in my series spanning the show and post-war, Some Things Are Evergreen! Thank you all for waiting for it, and I hope y'all enjoy!

#finally it is here #thank you all for your patience #already thinking about story three god help me #bj hunnicutt #hawkeye pierce #hunnihawk #beejhawk #hawkbeej #m*a*s*h #my writing #anything you say can and will be held against you #some things are evergreen

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tsuzukerukoto · 6 months ago

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[said with increasing distress and volume] fuck it we ball fuck it we ball fuck it we ball fuck it we ball fuck it we ball fuck it we ball fuck it we ball fuck it we ball fuck it we ball

#crack — what‚ there’s misfortune again?! come on!#HE SURVIVED BECAUSE THE FUCK IT WE BALL INSIDE OF HIM BURNED LONGER THAN THE ITS SO OVER AROUND HIM #hello gamers i will be here tomorrow gaming's sucked me in again. a.stlibra revision may get the certified alex stamp of approval #it is kino. i love time shenanigans in stories #but i've been yearning to finish what i owe here with the Most Ordinary Man Of All Time who just cares abt everyone so so so much #as always thank you guys for your patience...!!

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gojonanami · 11 months ago

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❝ 𝐘𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐙𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ❞

❝ WHAT HAPPENS WHEN TWO YAKUZA HEIRS ARE FIGHTING OVER WHO GETS TO MARRY YOU ?? ❞

✧ pairing: yakuza!satoru gojo x f!reader x yakuza!suguru geto

✧ summary: you had no patience for the yakuza lifestyle your grandfather had -- you wanted to live a normal life, but when it leaks that your grandfather is in talks to have you engaged to one of two yakuza heirs -- you realize you're in deeper than you thought -- especially when they both fall in love with you.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, inspired / dialogue / scene concepts taken from the manga “yakuza fiance,” (which the fic is named after), reader's age is ambiguous, but all are 20s+, violence (as expected from mafia / yakuza stories), blood, stsg have tattoos, implied satosugu (just a passing mention of dating briefly), stsg have sadomasochistic tendencies, a little ooc, switch! gojo (very sub gojo), switch! geto, oral (f + m), deepthroating, handjob (m), fingering (f! receiving), double penetration, sex (p in v), creampie, poly relationship implied ending,

✧ wc: 18,476

“I don’t want to marry either of you,”

And your statement is met with confused stares — and normally stares like this wouldn’t be terrifying to the average person, but these were not average men you were dealing with.

Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto were anything but average — in many ways.

Both were incredibly handsome — Satoru was blessed with a piercing blue gaze of the heavens and snow white locks that could stun any person into silence, and Suguru was no slouch either — with long inky black locks tied into a neat bun and his sharp features and his almost all too alluring smile — the two of them looked like they belonged to a modeling agency. Both were also brilliant, attending one of the best high schools in Tokyo, before going to the best university, leading in their respective specialities (Satoru studying physics, while Suguru chose literature).

And, the two were both the heirs to two of the most dangerous Yakuza families in all of Japan.

But right now, they are your biggest problems, personified.

Their families were both vying for your hand in marriage — thanks to your meddling grandfather who shipped you off to Tokyo to get a would-be Yakuza husband — your yakuza family hoping to broker peace after decades upon decades of fighting with one of the other two biggest yakuza families around — the Gojo and Geto families respectively.

“Excuse me?” Suguru speaks first, a single eyebrow raised, arms crossed over his crisp white button up.

“I’m not here for this yakuza bullshit. I’m trying to live my own life — and I’m not in the mood to get swept along in my grandfather’s wishes for me to get married,” your hand is in your bag, fingers curled around your collapsible metal pole, “and I don’t care to know either of you, I don’t really care to stick around you — especially because all its earned me is the disdain of all the other students who have crushes on you — so how about we simply tolerate each other for this year?”

Satoru whistles, “how disappointing,” his eyes raking over you from head to toe, “you’re worse than your reputation — we heard you were a stuck-up, spoiled rich girl that would do anything to get her way, but turns out you’re just normal,” he sticks out his tongue and makes a gagging noise, “how boring,”

“Truly tiresome,” Suguru hums, his bangs falling in his dark gaze, “I was looking forward to a woman who could match up to us — maybe fuck me up, punish me, and strip away my dignity — type of girl who’d ruin my life, do you understand?”

You stare at him, lips parted, brow furrowed, “What?”

“In other words, we were hoping you were much more interesting than you were — as you are now, you’re just useless,” Satoru sighs dramatically, his pink lips curled in a smile, “bor-inggggg,”

“You might as well go back to Osaka, or wherever it was you came from,” Suguru shrugs, hands in his pockets, as he pulls a cigarette and a lighter, “you could stay, but as it stands, you would be better off back home — maybe it would even start a war — that could be fun, Satoru,” he remarks, his grin growing more sinister by the minute, as he places the cigarette between his lips, and lighting it.

“Let’s actually not be so hasty, Suguru. She could have some use,” he holds out his fingers to frame you between them, “could be worth something if we have her work at one of our families clubs — selling her body. She could make some use for us,” he says cruelly, “Otherwise, go back home, and let them know we’re the ones not interested in you,” he says, brushing past you along with Suguru.

And you couldn’t decide which one of their smiles were the most bone chilling — and why you couldn’t quite find your voice in that moment. And you didn’t — not until you finally reached home, your phone ringing.

“How’s it going, dear granddaughter?” you could hear the grin of the old coot even over the phone — and how could you tell him you wanted to go home now? You had hoped to go there to give two rejections — not earn two of your own. You hoped to stick out the year before leaving this place behind, if only to appease your grandfather.

“I’m fine, but I think…I think I’m homesick,” you sit on the edge of your bed, hunched over, hand holding your head up, propped against your knee.

“Why’s that? Did something happen?”

“Nothing, I just—”

“You’re not coming back home,” and your hopes fall, “one year, you have to stay one year no matter what. Don’t care if you have to fight with every bone in your body and fiber of your being — last a year,”

“But why—”

“Make those boys fall for you, and then break their hearts, heh — your grandfather is a heartbreaker and I know you can do the same,” and you know his lips are curled in a smile not too dissimilar to the two men you met today, “don’t forget where you come from — and what you’re worth,” and he cuts the line, as you stare at your phone, before tossing it away and lying back.

Well, you know what you had to do.

~~~

“Morning,” you know where’d they be — the only free period they had together that they spent in the dining hall with their entourage — including some girls who had been harassing you about how you knew the pair — ones you had suspected in fucking with your locker, smearing mud all over your shoes. A small retaliation for capturing their precious crushes’ attention.

The two heirs only stare for a moment — it had been two weeks since they had seen you, “thought I had gone home?”

“Surprised you didn’t,” Suguru remarks, utterly disinterested from the look in his eyes, despite the smile plastered on his lips, “guess I lost the bet, Satoru,”

You raise an eyebrow at Satoru, “you thought I’d stay?”

“Thought you'd stay to take me up on my offer to sell your body,” he holds out his hand as Suguru slaps a stack of bills in his palm, “did you?”

“I did actually,” your lips curl, as their gazes slide to one another, before you drop a bag on their table, “one kidney, 5,000,000 yen,” and you take delight in the smiles that slide off their expressions, as they stare at you, Satoru looking over the lip of the bag before you knocked it over and let the stacks of money spill over the table, “it took two weeks since it took a while to arrange and recover, but it was well worth it,”

The pair only can stare — expression unreadable and words seemingly stolen from their mouths, as you only smiled down at them, your gaze digging into their faces like daggers.

Suguru’s eyebrows knit together, “How did you—“

“Friend of a friend,” you shrug, “I’ll have to be on a low sodium diet and probably do blood work a little more frequently but you were right about one thing — I was being weak,” you lift up your shirt to show the bandage on your side, their eyes wide, as they can only stare, “I won’t be making that mistake again,”

And you place your foot up on their table, leaning in, as the mask slips from your face, and your anger surges forth, “listen here, you masochistic fuckers, I’m not scared of either one of you. I don’t care if I have to crawl home choking on my own blood, I’ll be sure you’re choking on each other’s as I drag you both to hell. I’m staying here, whether either of you like it or not,”

“You can’t talk to them like that—“ one of the girls pipes up, her lips twisted in a frown.

“I can talk to them however I want - do you know who I am? I come from a family just like there’s but we actually know how to cover up our crimes,” you chuckle, head tilting, “do you know how easy it’d be to get rid of you two?” Your gaze slides to the other girl, “it’d be all too simple — and trust me, I’d get my hands dirty if it’s the two of you,” your lips curl into a wide grin as you add, “after all, you guys did me the favor of dirtying my shoes already,”

And the two blanch white, all indignance replaced with genuine fear — and you had never known someone could look at you as someone to be feared.

And you didn’t know you would like it so much.

You staple the smile on your face again, as the two heirs still sit speechless in their seats, eyes glued to you, “Well that’s all,” you slide back, “I have to head to class—”

But then your wrists are caught — pulling you back, as you find yourself pinned on either side by the two heirs, your body tense, before your gaze slides between them, “What?”

“Marry me,” they both say simultaneously — and you gape at them.

You are pushing them back, palms pressed against their chests, but find yourself met with two immovable objects, instead trying to squirm out of their grips. “What?” And their grips loosen enough for you to take a step back, but their hands remain around your wrists.

“I have to have you,” Suguru presses a chaste kiss to the back of your hand, dark gaze lidded as he looks up at you, and a shiver climbs up your spine, “I’ve never been so terrified or turned on in my life — it must be love,”

Satoru is the same, mesmerized with eager words, “I want you to do what you promised, Princess — ruin my life,” Satoru’s lips curled in a wide grin, “want you to completely fuck me up, dominate my entire life — and there’s only one way to do that, marry me,”

Suguru only scowls at Satoru, “You know Satoru, it’s very rude to propose after your best friend does,” Suguru’s gaze slides to him, “she’s mine,” and his other hand finds your shoulder, pulling you against his chest, even as you struggle against their grips, “her family reached out to mine first,”

“Fuckers, I swear to god, let me go—“ but they act as if they can’t hear you, a current of possessiveness sweeping their thoughts away.

“So what? Her family decided to ask for my hand — looks like yours wasn’t good enough,” Satoru only grins, pulling you against him instead, his breath warming your flushed skin, as you grimace, “and I’d make her happier than you ever would.”

“Want to take this outside, Satoru?” Suguru’s glare sent chills down your spine, but Satoru’s lips split into a smile so wide, you were afraid his head would crack in two.

“Why? Feeling lonely? Go by yourself,”

And finally you stomp on Satoru’s foot before elbowing Suguru in the stomach, drawing groans from both boys, as you stumble away from them, whirling to face them, “Don’t treat me like your goddamn property or that I’m a prize to be won,” your words slip like venom from your lips, “don’t ever fucking touch me without asking,”

“Of course, we’re sorry,” Suguru only grins after, holding his stomach, but he still looks all too delighted, “you should reprimand us like the scum we are, isn’t that right Satoru?”

Satoru nods, pouting, “Yeah we deserve more of a punishment,” and your skin crawls at their eagerness.

“I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you two, but I don’t want anything to do with it,” you walk away, hiding your dumbstruck expression, but the two only followed you.

“You can’t just walk away from us, you have to decide who you want,” Suguru calls after you, their long strides meant they caught up all too fast, and you’re armed with your collapsible pole now, pointing it at both of them.

“Two minutes ago, both of you thought I was normal and boring,” your eyes narrow — was this another plot to just sell you to some club?

“And I’m sorry about that sweetheart,” Satoru’s arm is around your waist again, while Suguru’s fingers intertwined with yours, “we were clearly wrong — and you have to take responsibility,”

You stare at them, “for what?”

And he’s leaning to whisper in your ear, “I’m so hard for you right now,” And you’re whirling on them with the pole, but they both expertly dodge your assault, before you’re hurrying away. But they let you go, watching after you with a grin.

“This is going to be fun,” Suguru remarks, looking at his best friend, “I can’t guarantee I won’t kill you for her hand,”

Satoru only smirks in reply, “You stole the words out of my mouth, Suguru.”

~~~

It had been a week — a week of you trying skillfully to evade the two yakuza heirs.

And you had failed. No matter how fast you left your classes, where you hid, where you sat — the two always found you. And now you have resorted to sitting outside to eat your lunch, being careful to avoid any stray glance of your presence. You sat, back against the building, as you held your head, bento box in your lap — how long until they would get the message? How long until they figured out you wanted nothing to do with them?

Your grandpa had told you to make them fall for you, but you didn’t think you had too much more to do with how the two were following you around, dogging your every step.

How would you last another year?

You opened your bento — at least for once, you could enjoy your lunch without one of them—

“There you are,” and your lunch nearly goes tumbling out of your lap, but you grasp it, keeping your food from spilling out of your bento, and you turn to meet the gaze of Suguru, leaning against the windowsill, “you’re a fast one, sweetheart,” his head tilted and lips curled in his signature smile.

“How the fuck did you find me so fast?” you stare at him, brow furrowed, “it’s barely been five minutes, and this campus is huge,”

“It’s the power of love, of course,” you cringe, and he laughs, bringing his knuckles to his lips, “oh rather, it’s the power of the tracking device I slipped in your bag,”

And you blink, “You what?”

He shrugs, “Well how else would I have found you so quickly? I’ll slip it in your shoe next time,” and he sighs, as you dig through your bag, before turning it upside down and letting your things spill out on the grass, “besides, there’s a good reason I’m tracking you,” and you find the tracker before stomping on it, digging your heel into it, crushing it into the dirt, “there’s been a kidnapping of another Yakuza heiress,”

And your eyes flit to him, and he’s still smiling at you, “Who?” you continue to collect your things, shaking out textbooks and examining your things for any other hidden trackers.

“You’ll learn tonight — come to the compound tonight — you’ve been formally invited by both my father and Satoru’s father,” and he’s hopping out of the window, fingers brushing yours as he hands you your pencil case, and he’s all too close now, his warm breath warming your lips.

“And if I refuse?” and his lips curl in a smirk.

“You’d be offending not only my family, but Satoru’s as well—” and he’s rising to his feet, offering you a hand, “and it might end in an all out war, but that would be just fine for us — would it for you?”

You glare at him, taking his hand reluctantly, as he helps you to your feet, and you brush the dirt from your skirt and legs, “Fine, what time?”

“After school, Satoru will be waiting by the gates for you,” he smiles, as he settles next to you, pulling out his own lunch, and you tilt your head, “oh are you curious about me? I have my own business to attend to,”

“Is that what the other bastard is up to?” and he chuckles at that, taking a bite of his food.

“Something like that.”

~~~~

“Took you long enough, pretty,” the Gojo heir’s eyes drag over you like spotlights as he leans against the gate outside, the other students staring as you two speak, whispering as they walk by, slowing down to either catch a longer glance at Satoru or hear a bit of your conversation, “with being so quick to leave for lunch, I thought you’d be just as quick leaving the building,” and he’s offering you a drink from the vending machine that you reluctantly take.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to being a spectacle,” you grumble, as you power walk away from the burgeoning traffic jam that Satoru was causing, and he follows behind, “why do they all stare anyway? They know you're a yakuza, don’t they?”

“Part of the draw,” he shrugs, the hiss of his own soda filling the air as he pops it open, “everyone wants what they can’t have, but don’t worry, I only have eyes for you, sweetheart,” you grimace as he sips at his soda, raising an eyebrow, “so what can’t you have?”

You both finally reach the heart of the city, bustling with people left and right — the one thing you couldn’t get used to from the quieter life you led, “Some peace and quiet, apparently,” you adjust your bag on your shoulder in a tighter grip, if only you could lose him in this crowd and be done with all this shit, but it wasn’t that simple, and then it occurs to you, “did you put a tracker on me as well?”

“Nah, I just used Suguru’s,” he smiles, as he downs the rest of his drink with his head thrown back, before crushing the can in his hand and tossing it away in the recycling bin nearby, “plus, I didn’t have time, been busy with other things, unfortunately,”

“What things have you—”

And you’re suddenly tugged into an alleyway, an arm around your neck and a hand clamped over your mouth, “Don’t struggle, it will only make it more difficult for you,” the man whispers in your ear, as another two men draw closer to your sides, “we’ll kill you if you do,”

You can’t scream, but you don’t need to — because the man who grabbed you screams first.

“Who the fuck are—” and he screams, his hands slipping from your side, the thump of his body against the pavement making you flinch, as you slowly turn to find Gojo, as he only glares at the other men, before his gaze slides to you, softening with a smile.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, come here,” and you swallow, before taking shaky steps to his side, and he’s pulling you behind him, “wait here,”

It happens far too quickly.

Or maybe it’s just a blur now. Because now he’s beaten the three men into submission, their scarlet blood splattering against his uniform, the wet squelch of their flesh as he punches and kicks them, his shoe digging into their sides. He winds his fist back again.

“That’s enough,” you say hoarsely, swallowing thickly, “they’re barely alive,”

“More than they deserve,” he mutters, before sighing and grabbing one by his shirt, fabric straining against the dead weight of the man, and pulls him close, his hand connecting with his face as he slaps him awake, “You hear me? Listen,” he shakes him, until the man’s eyes blink open, bleary, “You see me? Don’t forget my face. You touch her again — and it’s the last thing you’ll see before the afterlife, got that?”

“Yes,” the man slurs.

“That’s my girl,” he jerks his head at you, “she’s mine and if you or any of your stupid friends or family see her, don’t talk or touch her, much less even look at her,” and his lips curl again, “or I promise my family and the Geto family will slaughter you — until there’s nothing left.” and he drops the man onto the ground, “let’s go,” he mutters, shaking the blood off his knuckles, before using the inside of his uniform jacket to wipe the rest off.

“Your uniform, it's—” and he glances at the blood seeping into the fabric of his jacket and crisp shirt, and you’re digging through your bag, “I have my hand towel and some—” and he’s shaking his head.

“I have a sweatshirt I can wear in my bag,” and he’s tugging off his uniform jacket and unbuttoning his shirt, and you can’t look away fast enough — not before seeing the tattoo littering his back.

A large lion against his back, seemingly roaring, against a backdrop of bamboo, stared back at you, as your breath catches in your throat — he wasn’t just a spoiled heir, he was a real yakuza. And what he did to those men — his eyes met yours again, as he tugged the sweatshirt on, lips still in that ridiculous smile — it was likely the least of what he could really do to them.

“Oh, sorry, guess I never told ya,” he pulls the orange sweatshirt down, pulling a pair of sunglasses on, and your horrified expression in the circular black rims stare back at you, “sorry for scaring you, sweetheart,”

“You’re really—” you cut off, heart caught in your throat. Yeah, you had spent too much of your life surrounded by men covered in tattoos, but these two — their auras — were on another level that was simply — terrifying.

“A yakuza?” he finishes, peering at you over the rim of his sunglasses, “Surprised it took you this long to figure out — thought you had that pieced together a while ago — what? I assume your family shielded you from that kind of violence — probably had guards on you 24/7 so no one would mess with you. Well you aren’t in Osaka anymore,” his fingers intertwined with yours, his larger hand engulfing yours as he tugs you along away from the alley, the faint groans of the men disappearing into the ambient noise of the city, “Stay close, princess.”

And you flushed, biting your lip. There was a lot you didn’t know, but you knew you better learn — you spare one glance back at the alley — and quick.

~~~

You both arrive back to the compound, as you’re funneled into a room, you get a glimpse of Suguru in an adjacent hallway, his clothes as bloodied as Satoru’s was, if not more. His dark eyes catch yours and his lips curl, as he holds his hand up as a greeting, mouthing, “Yo,”

You’re shepherded away to sit, and soon enough, Satoru and Suguru join you, as you fidget in the middle of the room, the three of you sit on cushions, while another cushion directly in front of you. Your fingers can't help but toy with the ribbon on the front of your uniform — what if this was just a ruse to sell you off? Maybe they even found out about you selling your kidney? Anxiety swirled in your mind, dragging down your body to even the tips of your toes, your body buzzing and stinging with thoughts.

“This really is just a talk to discuss the missing Yakuza heiress,” Suguru cuts through your thoughts, as you stare at him, slack jawed, and he only shrugs, leaning back against his hands flat on the floor, “you’re not hard to read, sweetheart,”

“Besides, if we wanted to kill you, why not let you die in that alleyway?” Satoru chimes in, ever so helpful, as you glare at him, before his gaze slides to Suguru, “did you take care of that like I asked, Suguru?” and he nods, and before you can ask a question, the door slides open.

Instead of the heads of the household, a yakuza comes in, sunglasses stare back at you, his dark brown hair slicked back, shaved on the sides of his head, as he stared down at the three of you, “The heads won’t be able to make it to this meeting — something has come up,”

“Yaga, good to see you,” Suguru chirps, while Satoru only sighs, hands behind his head.

“Glad to see you haven’t gotten yourself killed since you’ve been away, old man—“ and Satoru earns a fist to his head, “ow!”

“Keep it up and you’ll get something worse than a whack to the head,” Yaga grumbles, taking his seat, “you must be the girl,” he eyes you up and down, “I’ll get straight to the point — the Akazawa heiress is missing. She’s assumed to be kidnapped,” he hands you a photo of her — shoulder length black hair, her eyes look past the camera, her head tilted downwards, but her hazel eyes pierce through the picture.

“How long has she been gone?” Suguru asks, “any chance that she just ran off?”

“There’s a chance she’s been sold off for a couple hundred thou,” Satoru remarks, crossing his arms, “people would pay a premium for a yakuza heiress,” and his eyes slide to you, and you glare back.

“We don’t know — maybe she ran off, maybe she’s been sold, maybe there’ll be a ransom coming in at one point or another, or maybe she’s dead—” and you bite your lip, “but we can’t take the risk, especially since we have a similar heiress under our care now,” Yaga says, crossing his arms with a hefty sigh, “that being said, you’ll be staying at the compound until further notice— your things have already been brought here,“ you gape at him, mouth nearly hanging open, “and you’ll have Satoru or Suguru with you at all times — their schedules have been rearranged to have class with you,”

“But—“ and Yaga shoots a look at you that silences your protests.

“These orders came from the three heads, including your grandfather, would you like to defy them?” And your mouth clamps shut, your head falling.

“No, sir,” Yaga rises, leaving, but not before ordering the two heirs to show you where you’ll be staying, “and any real threats to you appear, and your classes will be made online and you will remain under guard in the compound,” Yaga adds before disappearing behind another door.

“It won’t be that bad, Princess,” Suguru grins, as they walk you to your room, “now we can really get to know each other before we’re married,”

“Don’t you mean before we’re married?” Satoru says, as Suguru only smiles back at him.

“I would rather not marry you, Satoru, dating you for a week was enough—“ and Satoru opens his mouth to reply.

“I’m not marrying either of you,” you rub your head, feeling the beginnings of a headache creeping on your temples — you barely could make it through the day with enduring the amount of insanity these two already inflicted, you were sure you’d murder one or both of them if you had to spend 24/7 with them, “we should be keeping a low profile from now on, not going out—”

“Except for the dates we have planned,” Satoru says, offering you the key to your room, and you unlock the door, stepping inside.

“Especially not for those.” And you slam the door shut and lock it.

Your eyes take in the boxes that surround you, full of the things from your apartment, and sigh.

Fuck, this really was your life now, wasn’t it?

~~~

“Why are you staring at me?” you can’t ignore Suguru’s stare in the subway, even when you refuse to meet it. The light from the windows flooded into the subway, flickering as the carts sped by, as the two of you hung onto the grab handles. Your usual peaceful ride to university was now impeded by Suguru who stood by your side, his eyes seemingly glued to you.

“I see that your left side is slower to respond than your right,” and you shift under his gaze, “that’s why your bag is always on your left side, so you can spot a threat easier and have a stronger grip, smart,”

You raise an eyebrow, “How did you figure that out?”

He shrugs, “From observation — I also move a little slower on my left — I even blink slower,” and you face him, staring into his eyes, trying to notice any difference between the two eyes. The only thing you could see is how pretty they really were — dark and lidded, not as bright or striking as Satoru’s, but just as mysterious.

“I can’t tell,” you tilt your head, and he only smiles.

“There isn’t a difference, but I got you to stare into my eyes, didn’t I?” and you glower at him, your remark cut off by the influx of people flooding into the cart. Fuck, you never had seen it this full before. You forced yourself not to cringe under the tight quarters — you could handle this, it wasn’t a big deal, even as the people sandwiched themselves all around you, anxiety biting at your nerves. And then you’re knocked around by the crowd as the cart jerks, but then, Suguru is pulling you lightly so your back is pressed against a wall and he’s caging you in, his body protecting you.

Your breath catches — he’s so close, “You don’t have to—” and your gazes meet again, your breath catching, your bag caught between your bodies. He’s nearly pressed against you, the heat from his form seeps into your own. And he smells good, despite the sticky heat of the summer lingering — something musky but sharp at the same time — what was that scent?

“You seemed uncomfortable,” he says, his hand holding onto the grab handle above, “this seemed like the easiest solution, especially so I can protect you — it would be much easier to shield you with my body this way,”

“Shut up,” you grumble, as he chuckles, before you’re sighing, “I’m not used to taking the subway — I used to have a car that took me back and forth,” you chew your lip, “I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t take care of myself,”

“Makes sense to have you driven — as a yakuza heiress, they wanted precautions,” Suguru nods, his eyes sliding around the cart, “you never know,”

“Is that why your eyes keep scanning the subway cart?” you raise an eyebrow.

And his lips curl, “I did say I’d protect you with my life, didn’t I?”

“Did you mean that?”

A chuckle escaped his lips, a noise that makes your breath catch, as the cart jerks again, pressing you both even closer, “I never say anything that I don’t mean, princess.”

~~~

“Is following me around really necessary even after classes?” you hadn’t bothered to pull your usual disappearing act — it was counterproductive in multiple ways (the first being that either of them would find you and the second being you had to be glued to one of their sides at all times), “it’s not like someone is going jump from the shadows and kidnap me on campus.”

“You don’t know that for sure, do you, princess?” Satoru drawls lazily, as he twirls his dinner knife around his fingers with a skill that said he’d done it a million times before — probably instead of doing the thing he was supposed to be doing, “a man comes up behind you while you’re studying or shopping, presses a weapon or gun to your side, just out of view, and he’s got the perfect hostage,”

You raise an eyebrow, “You sound like you’ve done it before,” and the knife stops between his middle finger and pointer, the tip pointed at you, as he looks at you over the rim of his sunglasses.

“Don’t get jealous, sweetheart, you’re the only girl I’d want to kidnap,” he leans forward and swipes a mochi from your plate — even though he had already ate his own — and you scoff, as you turn your attention back to your neglected dessert, choosing to use your brain cells to focus on your food instead of this psycho.

“How lucky,” you mutter, as you stab your remaining mochi instead of your escort, “do the two of you have to take shifts like this? I’m surprised the two of you aren’t glued to my sides 24/7 together,”

“We thought it was only fair the two of us split our time — and as much as I’d like to spend each and every hour with you, we both unfortunately have other responsibilities to tend to,” and he takes a bite of the mochi, “plus, this way, we get to spend time with you alone without the other interfering, and trust me, if I saw you with Suguru,” his lips curl, “I’d interfere,”

“Well you don’t have to be worried about that, because I don’t plan on being with either one of you,” you reply, “I’m here to finish school and go home as soon as I can,”

“You won’t be saying that once I make you fall for me,”

You get to your feet, as you pull out your wallet — but Satoru waves you off, already pulling out his card for the waiter, “You’d have a better chance making me fall for you if you tripped me,” you roll your eyes, as you round the booth, and quick as a light, you trip right into his arms, your body bumping against his chest as his arms steady you. A hand tilts your face up to meet cerulean eyes filled with mirth, “did you trip—”

And then you spot the chair leg you had tripped over oh-so-gratefully, “I don’t need to resort to those measures to make you fall for me, princess,” his finger traces your jaw with a featherlight touch, “I have plenty of other ways to do that,”

You get to your feet properly and shove him away, as he chuckled, as you rolled your eyes, “Maybe in your twisted dreams, but—” And Satoru is tugging you away from the booth — a tight arm around you waist, as you stammer, “what the fuck are you—”

“Guy’s been following you — just spotted him from a distance,” he murmurs, and your shoulders tense, resisting the urge to look back, “just keep walking with me, don’t worry,” his arm gently squeezed you, “won’t let anything happen to you, princess,”

“Don’t call me that,” you murmur, as he leads you back inside the closest building, “where are we—” and he’s pulling out his phone, texting several people.

“Getting us a ride in case I need to get you to safety, and letting Suguru know of the situation,” he offers you a small grin, “I could send you back, but that would be that and you will be on lockdown. Things might be getting a little more interesting from here — so it’s your choice, will you stay or go?”

You considered your choices — you could run away from this, go back to the compound, but going back was a guarantee that you would be stuck 24/7 in the compound and stuck there for the remainder of your time here. And these two would take full advantage of that. Plus, your mind wandered to the girl who had been taken — you wanted to know more about what happened to her and why you were being targeted next.

“Let’s go,” and his lips curl. The two of you round several street corners, Satoru’s arm remains tight around your waist, as he leads to a more and more secluded corner of the city, “is this the right move?” your hand wanders into your pocket, fingers around your collapsible pole.

He sighs dramatically, “Do you have such little faith in me, sweetheart?”

“Considering the two of you are insane, yes, I do,” and he clicks his tongue at you, “where—”

And someone punches you, fist connecting with your left cheek as you stumble sideways into the wall of a nearby building. You hear the cock of a gun, your eyes catch sight of the weapon pointed at Satoru. You caught a glimpse as your eyes flicker open, several men stand behind him, all bearing weapons of some sort.

Your ears ring, as you clutch at your head, as you struggle to get your balance, your vision in your left eye blurry from the impact, “Come with me, and your girlfriend won’t have to watch you die,” you feel something warm run down your nose, and you touch it — scarlet stains your fingers.

Fuck.

Your eyes flicker back to where Satoru stands, eyes flickering to you, a shiver running down your spine at his hard gaze — not a hint of euphoria left — his lips a thin line, and his fists clenched, “I’ll fucking kill you,” his words leave in a whispered hiss, and quick as lightning, the gun is knocked from his fingers, and Satoru’s got him pinned down, fist winding back to punch his head in. The other men don’t hesitate to join the fray, just as Satoru doesn’t hesitate to take them down, blood spilling from their bodies as they fall one by one.

You said you would be stronger — that you wouldn’t let this happen again. You weren’t some person who needed to be sheltered away. Your fingers clutched at the pole in your pocket, pulling it out, as you slowly uncollapsed it — you were a yakuza heir, just as much as these two were.

One of them got up to shaky feet, lifting up his knife to stab Satoru from behind, “DIE!” and you slam into his side, hitting over the head with the pole — a grisly crack as the pole nearly snaps against his skull.

“Fuck off and die!” the words leave your lips as you taste your own blood dripping from your nose. And you can feel Satoru turn to see you, eyes wide as he stares — your words burn as much as your head hurts, as you wipe the blood from your nose.

And the men are all down now, as Satoru walks over to you, and his fingers reach gently for your face, as he examines the blood dripping, “it’s just a nosebleed,” you say, and his gaze softens ever so slightly, before darkening, as a groan comes from the man that punched you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” your heart flutters at his gentle touch, the calluses of his fingers against your cheek, as he pulls tissues from his pocket to wipe the blood from your nose.

And his eyes linger on your face for a moment, before he turns to the culprit, fingers clenched tightly around the napkin soaked in your blood.

He drags the man up by the collar, shaking him, a gurgled groan leaving his bloody lips, “You might want to go, sweetheart — I have to make sure I let this one die for ever laying a hand on my woman—“ and you clasp your hand on his shoulder, shaking your head.

“He’s half dead already — you don’t need to finish the job,” and he pouts, shaking the man again for good measure.

“You said he should die—“

You shrug, “People like this aren’t worth the trouble of killing. And you don’t need more problems on your hands — so if you’re doing this for me, don’t bother. Let’s just go,”

And you see his lips slowly curl into a grin, as he pulls you into a hug, arms around you waist, as he runs his fingers through your hair gingerly, “I didn’t realize you cared, sweetheart,” and you frown, “don’t want me getting in more trouble, huh? If it’s for you, I’ll oblige, but you owe me one,” and his fingers slide under your chin.

“Oi, is the party over without me?” A familiar voice calls, Suguru walks over, several other Yakuza in tow, his sleeves rolled up, as he takes a once over of the situation, seemingly uninterested in the scum, his eyes falling on you and Satoru, lingering on the blood that still was trickling from your nose. His eyes narrowed, “which one—”

“It’s already taken care of, Suguru,” Satoru rubs the back of his head, “but for your information,” he kicks the one who had punched you in his side, forcing him to roll over, a slight groan escaping his lips, “that’s the one who hurt her,”

Suguru nodded, stepping over the bodies as if it was nothing more than a spill that had been yet to be cleaned up, as his hand brushes over your chin softly, drawing close, a sharp gasp leaving your lips when his fingers decide to travel to your nose, “It’s not broken, just bleeding, but I should still get her checked out at the compound,”

“You?” Satoru furrows his brow, “you’re going to leave me—”

“To clean up your own mess? Yes, I am,” Suguru smiles, “because it’s my turn to keep watch,” as he shows his watch, already well past midnight, “and I should be getting her back to the compound,” the two glare at each other, a tension settling over the scene that you were far too done with.

You sigh, stepping past both of them, walking over the bodies splayed out on the floor, “Let me know when you both decide,” you yawn, hands in your pockets now, “I need sleep,” and Suguru follows behind, and you don’t see him turn to smirk at Satoru.

~~~~

You swore someone was watching you.

A presence loomed over you, hovering slightly, as you shifted in your sleep, a sigh parting your lips as you turned, still caught between in realms of deep sleep as you drifted in and out, eyes fluttering open a moment, and caught sight of a shadow.

No, it was nothing. It was nothing. And then you’d wake to sunlight filtering through your windows, eyes fluttering open, but you would still wake with the lingering touch of someone else against your face.

But each morning you’d check the locks, and it would be locked, with no signs of tampering — and you’d be left wondering if it was a dream or not.

It had been like this for the last week — you’d sense a presence, for a split second of what you thought was consciousness, and then it would be morning again.

And finally, you decided to stay awake, a knife you had pilfered away from the kitchen under your pillow. You let your eyes drift shut, drifting in and out of a half sleep, until you hear it.

The slow slide of the door opening, and the soft close of the door behind. The person takes nearly soundless steps towards you, before leaning above you and you feel the faint brush of hair against your skin, before leaning back with a quiet sigh.

Suguru?

And his fingers slide through your hair softly. He watches over you, quietly, until you turn to face him, eyes open.

“You know it’s really creepy to break into a woman’s room in the middle of the night,” and Suguru blinks, before his lips curl in a small smirk, “and it’s even weirder when you just sit there to watch her sleep,”

“Just trying to make sure you’re safe, sweetheart,”

“In a locked room?” And he shrugs.

“I broke in easily,” and you scoff, as he rakes his own fingers through his hair, “who else would keep an eye on you?”

You sit up, crossing your arms, “Surprised you and Satoru aren’t in here,”

“We take turns,” and you stare at him, as he leans back against the wall, “all we do is keep watch princess — would you have let us in otherwise?”

You open and shut your mouth, before you find words again amidst the haze of frustration, “I’m not so fucking helpless that you both need to sit here and watch me sleep,”

“We have been doing this since the threats began nearly and you only noticed recently,” he points out, his eyes catching the faint light of the moon, as cautious and patient as Suguru was — his expression as indiscernible as a new moon was, “and it’s only because Satoru had gotten sloppy,” he shrugs.

You rub at your temples, “you’re not the only one who is a yakuza—“

Suguru tilts his head, “Princess, you don’t know what it means to be one — not even your fingers have never been bloodied, and it should stay that way—“

Your fingers close around the handle of the knife as you lunge at him — you snapped. You were tired — tired of the men in your life running your life — your grandfather, these yakuza heads, and these two idiots — all of them treating you as if you were spineless.

And you weren’t.

His hand darts out — and it happens quickly. The knife clatters against the hardwood, and he’s pinned you underneath him.

You glare, embarrassment licks at your cheeks like flames — you had placed your fingers on the stovetop and what were you expecting other than to get burned? You can’t meet his gaze, and you’re expecting another lecture or sanctimonious attitude, but instead, his fingers skim your cheek, “You should pick your battles wisely, sweetheart — because not all of them will let you off the hook,” and he leans close, breath warming your lips, as your eyes can’t help but squeeze shut.

Only to wince after a sharp flick to your forehead.

And his weight leaves you at once, your head turning to find him examining the knife you had stolen, “You should also choose a better weapon than a kitchen knife — especially one as dull as this one,”

You scowl at him, “Well, how else will I defend myself?”

And he smiles, shrugging, “Isn’t it simple? Use the weapons already at your disposal,”

Your brow knots together, “What weapons?” And his hand is sliding the door open, as he casts one more glance over his shoulder, lips curled in that insufferable smile.

“The ones sworn to you.”

~~~~

“You’re staying home tomorrow from class,” the thermometer is plucked from between your lips, the white haired yakuza scrutinizing your room, cerulean eyes catching the pile of tissues you had failed to stuff properly in your trash bin, “how long have you had this, Princess?”

You lay bedridden and pouting as you draw the covers over your face — you had not been feeling well this whole weekend, but you developed a fever last night. You thought it would be gone by the morning, “Just since this morning,” and he’s tugging the covers away, his brow wrinkled, and then you see it, bandages on his forehead, “when did you get hit on the head?”

And he blink, fingers running through his hair, “This? It’s nothing,” and you raise an eyebrow, “if you must know, it’s just my punishment for taking you into the thick of things the other day,”

Your brow wrinkles, “Who—“

He waves you off, “It’s not important — the important thing is that you get better — can’t have my future wife succumbing to the flu, now can I?” And you scoff.

“I’m not your future wife,” you mumble, and you hear a small chuckle from him. And then your muscles begin to grow heavy, eyelids fluttering shut under the weight of exhaustion, and your skin feeling far too cold for your burning insides, “Gojo, I’m not—“

And you slip into darkness.

You can feel the world around you move, the sounds of wind brushing against your skin, and the flicker of lights in your eyes. Your lips part, a desert inside your mouth with no oasis in sight, “where—“

A voice quietly shushes you, fingers raking through your hair gently, lulling you back to sleep. Was it your grandfather? No, he never coddled you like this. Not even he had his yakuza to look after. You were expected to care for yourself —- you couldn’t show weakness.

Not as an heir — even if you were just a kid.

And when you do wake for a moment, it’s with some prodding, a voice whispering for you to open your mouth at the press of a medicine cap to your lips, and your eyes flutter open to catch a glimpse of blue eyes — so you do, swallowing it with water.

You fall into the arms of sleep again, only waking to your head slightly aching, and a distinct void in your stomach. You reach around blindly for your phone, and find that it’s still Sunday, nearly the evening. Your eyes adjust as your gaze spots the last glimmers of the sunset in the window.

How long have you slept? Like four hours? You sighed, slumping back into bed, as you stretched. Your fingers pressed to your forehead, still a slight fever, but it was definitely lower. Maybe you could sleep for a bit longer, and you turn on your side only to find a familiar, not-so familiar sight. Your lips can’t help but curl a little. Again there is someone in your room, but instead as your eyes flutter open you see that Satoru has dozed off.

You hold back a chuckle, as you slowly get up, drawing a little closer. His head was against the wall, slightly tilted, soft breaths leaving his lips, arms crossed. He had a prescription medicine next to him along with a water bottle. Your fingers reach for the medicine, and you glance it over — seeing that it was prescribed earlier today for you.

Your brows knit together, when did you—and then it comes back to you slowly — the lights, the sound of wind and cars — he drove you to a hospital. And his shoulder starts to slip

And then you reach for him, trying to make sure he didn’t hurt himself.

That’s when he grabs you — his eyes fly open, as he grabs you by the wrist, pulling you close, his hard topaz gaze cuts through you, until it slowly fills with recognition. His fingers digging into your wrist loosen ever so slightly, as he blinks.

“Sorry about that, sweetheart,” but his fingers don’t leave your wrist, “are you feeling better?”

“I am,” you admit, as his other hand reaches up to brush against your forehead and then neck, sending hest crawling up your skin for a different reason.

“Looks like the medicine worked,” he sighs, leaning back, “guess I can scratch beating up that doctor off my list,” and you furrow your brow, “it was a joke, Princess,”

“Why did you take me?” You asked and he tilted his head, “I mean you could have had me looked at here, so why did you—“

“As much as my father pays for these services, they don’t work weekends, usually — we do have an on-call physician, but,” he shrugs, as his thumb brushed back and forth against your wrist, right where your pulse was, “I didn’t want to wait,”

And your eyes slide to the bandages around his head, “but you couldn’t get that checked out?”

“Worried about me? I’m touched, Princess,” and your fingers reach for the bandages and brush against his locks, “hey, you—“

“It’s coming loose,” you lean over and slide your hands until you find where it’s coming undone and tie it tighter, fingers brushing against his soft locks — noting the undercut you hadn’t noticed before, “there,”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, as your eyes meet his and your breath catches, your face an inch or two from his. And he looks different in the dark of the room, illuminated by the last vestiges of sun that were quickly fading into the night — softer.

“Why did you take care of me?” And he blinks a moment, taken aback and he tilts his head, “someone else could have—“

“I wanted to,” he cuts you off gently, “why would I let someone else do it when I could? It was the least I could do,” and it was your turn to tilt your head, as he adds in a whisper, “I let you get hurt. I should have sent you home,”

“If you had tried, I would have stayed anyway,” and he chuckles.

“I know,” he murmurs, “and I know what it’s like to tough through things as if you’re invincible — as if nothing can touch you — and it’s only a matter of time until it does,” and your fingers brush against the bandages on his head, as you dare closer, less than a breath away.

“Maybe I should make you take your own advice,” you whisper, and his lips quirk upwards in a smirk.

“I’d love to see you try, Princess,” he adds with a grin, “you know I’d love to submit to you anyti—“

And you swallow the rest of his sentence with your lips, a chaste brush that leaves your entire body burning for more — a spark to kindling that you told yourself you wouldn’t start. But, your lips part his to see his soft gaze meeting your own, before finding your lips again, how could you not?

“I’m going to get you sick,” you manage between kisses, lips meeting and parting, as he chuckles against you, a vibration sending a shiver that definitely wasn’t from your fever.

“You’re worth it, Princess,” but he kisses you one last time, noses brushing, before your stomach rumbles loudly in the relative silence of both of your soft pants. You flush, and he can’t hold back his laugh, as you smack his shoulder.

“Shut up, I haven’t eaten since breakfast, thanks to someone,” and he’s still laughing as you try to smack him again, but he catches you by the wrist.

“Don’t forget, I really like it when you punish me,” his lips press to your wrist, your breath catching for a moment before you hit him again on the chest regardless. And he laughs, leaning on his hand, “oh what will I do with you, sweetheart?”

You scowl at him, rolling your eyes, “You can start by getting me dinner,” you grumble, and he repents, getting to his feet, “Satoru?” And he pauses, eyes flickering back, “thank you,” you manage, biting your lip all the whole, unable to meet his eyes or see the smile on his lips.

“Anytime, Princess.”

~~~~

You hadn’t seen Suguru or Satoru all week.

Once a sought after rarity l, but now a foreboding concern. Satoru had been away on business — you didn’t care to know what, but you knew he’d come back only more clingy than ever. You chewed on your lip — especially after the kiss.

Fuck. You kissed Satoru, you buried your face in your hands, what the fuck were you doing? Could you use the excuse that your fever had rendered you momentarily insane? No, Satoru would only crack a joke saying that he’s crazy for you too.

What was your plan? You were only trying to bide your time for a year — not become further entangled

You lay back on your bed, as you scroll through your phone — but Suguru was a different story. You heard from Satoru that he had returned. Yet now there was some random yakuza checking in each hour — and even worse, keeping you confined to the compound.

And a small part of you did worry for them as you tossed your phone aside — those fools may have death wishes but that didn’t mean you wished the same.

You leave your room, sighing as you explore the compound. You had done your fair share of exploring, but you had never wandered into Suguru or Satoru’s quarters. You had been told by each of them where their rooms were, only for you to glare at them for providing you the implication. But now…maybe it was useful.

You walked through the halls — seemed like most people were away at the moment. When Satoru had captured those people who had attacked you both, there was information learned about who was targeting you and of where that girl who was taken could possibly be. But it’s not like you were able to find that information out — unless you went looking yourself.

Satoru and Suguru’s rooms were close to each other’s — but Satoru’s room was locked, as you tugged at the door to no avail. You glared at the handle as if it was the white haired idiot itself, before turning to Suguru’s door.

You pressed your ear to the door, it was silent, not a single noise inside. You pull at the door and it opens. You step inside — the room is neat, a desk in the corner, along with a bed on the opposite side, but not much else. There were a few other things — a dresser with a few containers tucked beside it and a small bookcase against the wall near the desk lined with books on each shelf.

It wasn’t what you expected — though you didn’t know what to expect. You stepped into the room, glancing around, as you approached the desk first. You rifle through the papers, finding nothing relevant — only papers from class and a few scattered notes that had nothing but addresses and initials scribbled.

And then the door opens, you freeze, before you slowly turn to see Suguru, his clothes tattered, blood dripping from his arms and soaked through his white button up. His gaze is dark and heavy, until he finds your eyes, his brow wrinkled.

“What are you doing?” no ‘sweetheart’ or ‘Princess’ — just a question.

“I was looking—“ but you bite your lips, as you watch his shoulders slump, “what happened—“

And he draws closer, as you slowly take steps back, until he’s looming over you, his arm pressed above you, “Princess, you shouldn’t get involved in these things, unless you want to end up like this,” and the smell of death rolls off of him, the heaviness of his gaze could drag you down to the depths of hell — but you didn’t care.

“Sit down,” and he blinks, before you’re pressing him onto the bed, “I’m going to get a first aid kit and some bandages,”

“Sweetheart—“ but you’re already out of the room, returning with a first aid kit and bandages, “where did you—“

“Well after that first time Satoru and I got jumped by those people, I figured it would be good to stock up on things,” you pull out scissors and tape, and you dampen a washcloth you had stored in the kit with a water bottle you had grabbed. “Take off your shirt,” he hesitates, “getting shy?”

Suguru’s lips curl, before he sighs, unbuttoning his shirt, “You know I rather you hurt me than take care of me,” and you scoff, as you busy yourself with preparing the materials to tend to him.

“Well it looks like someone else already did that for you,” and your eyes meet with his bare chest, the red and black ink of his tattoos encroached onto his shoulders, but more than that — bruises bloomed on different parts of his body, scars from old wounds of various ages littered his skin, and dried and fresh scarlet clung to his skin from fresh cuts.

You take the washcloth, slowly starting to run it over his body, the white cloth marred with his blood, he doesn’t flinch even as it cleans his cuts or wounds.

“Why are you doing this?” And your eyes meet his, his amethyst eyes cut through you.

“Because you’re hurt,”

“Just because I’m hurt doesn’t mean you have to help,” you sigh, as you urge him to turn so you can clean his back next, the sight of his tattoo on his back unsurprising now as you continue to clean it.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t have to either,” he gives a soft chuckle, “what’s your goal here sweetheart?” You urge him to turn again, as you begin to clean the blood from his arms.

“Do I need to have a goal?” And he turns to face you, leaning even closer, as his black locks fall in his eyes.

“Everyone has one — didn’t you have one for coming in here?” And your hesitation is all the answers he needs, “curious about what’s going on with those people after you, huh?”

There wasn’t any use lying now, “Wouldn’t you be?”

“I would be, but I wouldn’t get caught, now would I?” and you scoff, as his lips curl, “we have been tracking the group that we suspect has the heiress, and we have been interrogating the people that you and Satoru secured,” ‘secured’ — more like nearly murdered by the way Satoru acted.

“And where were you?”

He sighed, “Dealing with some loose ends — and some other business that my father had me deal with,” and he adds, “I had to make sure a message got out — so no one would ever attack you like that again,”

And why does your heart squeeze at the thought, “Why are you so willing to tell me?” And your hands begin to clean and wipe his palms. And you set the washcloth down, beginning to bandage some of the larger cuts and wounds, and his fingers intertwined with yours, as you glance up.

“Because you deserve the truth,” he shrugs, “and even if I lie, you’ll figure it out, so why not tell you to begin with?” And he leans even closer, fingers skimming your cheek, “plus I don’t keep secrets from my future wife,”

“I’m not marrying you,” but you don’t pull away, as he’s even closer now.

“Well, you said never before — and I’ve worn you down to a ‘not’ — it’s only a matter of time,” and his words make you want you to pull away, to scoff at his words and leave, but you don’t.

Why can’t you?

“And I thought Satoru was the one full of himself—“ and his lips find yours, his kiss was more insistent, his fingers find your jaw, featherlight before it finds purchase on the back of your neck. You could taste the faint taste of blood, lingering on his lips,

“And you also thought Satoru was a good kisser,” he smirks, as his lips ghost down your jaw, nose brushing against your cheek, as you pause — how did he— “well now you know what a good kisser is actually like,”

Your eyebrows knit together, “Geto—”

“Suguru,” he corrects you, he tilts his head, his thumb cupping your chin, and your lips find the other’s, his forehead pressed to yours. Then his phone rings, and the moment’s broken. He pulls away just as fast, as he turns to answer his phone, “Hello?” he listens, a man’s voice on the other end, “I understand, okay.” and the call ends, as he offers a smile to you, “I have to deal with some business, but I’ll be back later. And then it looks like I’ll be your escort while Satoru is away.”

“What business—” but he’s brushing past you, going to his wardrobe to grab a fresh shirt, buttoning it swiftly, before pulling on another jacket, as he turns to glance at you over his shoulder.

“You know better than to ask me that,”

“But you said you would be honest,” and he shrugs his shoulders, a smirk on his lips, as he heads out of the room.

“I didn’t say when.”

~~~~

“We have to tell her,” Satoru stood, hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall of the compound. Suguru clicks his lighter again, flicking it on and off — he had quit a few months ago when you had told him that you hated the smell. And he didn’t miss it, but he still carried the lighter — old habits die hard, “the pictures we got — they are getting better at tracking her without us noticing. And these other fires we’re being sent out to deal with — it’s leaving us with less time to protect her,”

“Do you have to?” Suguru asked, flicking his lighter closer, the silver outside glinting in the low light of the moon, “isn’t it safer for her to stay in the dark for now?”

“Staying in the dark doesn’t mean she won’t put herself in danger one way or another without us knowing,” Satoru shrugs, “she said even if I had sent her home that day that those men were after her, she would have came after me,”

Suguru gives a terse chuckle, “I don’t doubt that she would,” he sighs, gaze towards the inky darkness of the sky, dotted with faint stars that he couldn’t see but knew were there — just as these threats were, “if she found out that her grandfather was threatened too? There’s no way she would wait,”

“So what do we do?” Satoru scratched the back of his head, “we could send her back home — she might be safer there than here,”

“Her grandfather told us—“

“I know, but what choice do we have, Suguru?” he sighs, and Suguru can’t help but quirk his lips.

“You know if we do this, we may have to fight her grandfather to stay engaged with her,” And Satoru smiles, shrugging.

“I know, but we can handle it, can’t we?” Satoru leans back, “we’ll just have to fight him on it. Why? Are you afraid?”

Suguru gives a short chuckle, “Since when have you known me to be afraid of anything?” And he turns his gaze towards the door, “so when should we tell her?”

But they don’t notice that you’re pressed against the door, your fists clenched. And they were right about one thing — you wouldn’t wait.

~~~~

CRACK!

Fuck, your eyes burned as you tried to open them, the sharp pain in the back of your head radiating all over, as your eyelids refused to open. What happened? You tried to hold your head, only to have your wrists strain against something rough — rope? The fibers dig into your wrists as you try to stand, only to find them bound to something else.

“Finally awake?” it was a woman’s voice — and your eyes still can’t quite open — fuck, this wasn’t part of your plan, “take your time, they said they wanted you in pristine condition so I can’t have you falling apart on me later on,” she scoffs, her footsteps receding away, and you could hear the quiet murmurs of other voices — men, by the baritone.

Your eyes burned as you adjusted to opening them, still fighting the urge to flutter them shut under the pain. The dim light swung overhead, a warehouse from the bare floors and even barer walls and ceilings overhead, barely illuminated in the flickering exposed lightbulbs hanging over the middle of the room.

“Where am I?” You choked out, voice wavering in a way that made you want to grit your teeth and chide yourself for the fear that seeped into your words.

The quiet click of heels came closer, “Don’t recognize me? Well I suppose you never did see my face in person,” and you knit your brows together as she stepped closer, leaning in far too near for your comfort, “I should thank you for your efforts in trying to find out what happened to me. It made it far easier to kidnap you,”

Her hazel eyes were even more startling in person.

“The Akawaza heiress,” you stare at her — her hair had grown a little past her shoulders now, ends slightly curling at them, “I thought—“

“I was missing? I was,” her lips curled, running her sharp lacquered nails through her black locks, “but it was my choice,” the screech of chair legs scraping against the floor makes you flinch ever so slightly, as she sits in front of you, her legs crossed, “I’m being rude — how is your grandfather?”

“Fuck off,” you spit, and she clicks her tongue.

“And here I thought you had manners, but I suppose the city’s changed you, little princess?” she hums, leaning back, wood of the chair creaking as she did, “or maybe your boyfriends did,” you say nothing, scoffing, as she sighs, “or knowing your grandfather, you probably didn’t have any to begin with,”

Rage fills your veins, lava bursting from them as the venom leaves your lips, “Don’t talk about my grandfather like that—”

“Why shouldn’t I? You never cared for the yakuza before, right? Is your grandfather not included in that equation? Or maybe it was because he kept what he did behind closed doors, and never bothered to tell you the truth,” and you’re not fast enough to stop your brow from furrowing, and she latches onto it, “Oh he didn’t tell you, did he?”

“You really love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?” you murmur, and she laughs at your remark, her nails clicking against the forearm of the chair — lacquer on wood that began to grate on your nerves, “can you get to the point of all this shit? Why the fuck am I here?”

“Because your grandfather is picking and choosing who he favors — and so I decided to take his heart, and I’ll only give her back if he gives me what I want — ” and then you see the way her lips curl and her jaw is cut, and it occurs to you.

Your grandfather had said he was a heartbreaker.

“You’re his granddaughter,” and she smirks, her nails falling still.

“Do you see the family resemblance?” she leans against her hand, elbow against the arm of her chair, “it would be nice to meet you — if I didn’t have to possibly kill you,”

“So you want to be the heiress? I never wanted to be one in the first place—”

“Do you think that matters?” she scoffs, “what matters is the choice your grandfather makes — and he’s chosen you — with no regard for the other children he has had,” her gaze falls downward, “do you know what it is like to watch your mother vye for the approval of someone who never truly cared for her in the first place?”

Your gaze falls downward, “I don’t know,” you admit, “but is all this worth this? What do you think he will even do for me?”

“He’ll meet my demands, and each hour he doesn’t, he’ll get another finger of yours,” she pulls a knife out, the blade glinting in the dim light, as she rises to her feet, your body straining back as she draws close to you, running the flat of the blade down your cheek, “should I start with your left hand or right?” she pulls the blade back, and you smile, “what—”

And you lean your head back and smash your head against her own. The crack of your skulls colliding rung in your ears, along with the knife clattering to the ground, as you felt warm droplets ran down your face, and she stumbles back, clutching at her forehead, scarlet staining her face and fingers, “It’s funny you think that I came to you without a plan — how do you think I found you?”

“It wasn’t on her own,” and a hand on her shoulder, before she’s pinned to the floor. Satoru’s eyes slide to you, a smile on his lips, as she’s struggling, trying to look for her men, “looking for your goons? Suguru has taken care of them by now, unless he needs my help,”

“Akari isn’t the only one who likes to hear herself talk,” Suguru runs his fingers through his hair, “Satoru, you haven’t even untied her,” his footsteps echoing as he approaches you, bending down to pick up Akari’s knife.

“A little busy at the moment, Suguru,” Gojo has Akari pinned with one hand, “unless you’d like her to get away,” and Suguru shrugs, as he slips the knife under your restraints and cuts them off, “are you doing alright, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine, just my head’s aching,” and Suguru pulls a cloth from his pocket, wiping the blood from your face, your eyes closing and nose wrinkling as he does, “did you call my grandfather?”

“Yeah, I don’t have a death wish,” Satoru replies as he hauls Akari up and hands her off to his associate to take her.

You get to shaky feet, “Hold on,” you walk over, grabbing Akari by the front of her blouse, silk wrinkling under your grasp, “fuck with me or my family again, and I won’t be so lenient,” you shove her off, and then you add, “but I’ll talk to my grandfather about some sort of possible arrangement for your mother,”

And then you wave the yakuza off and they take her away — assuredly to Kyoto to be dealt with by her grandfather.

“Are you really going to talk to your grandfather about her?” Suguru asks, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s the least he could do since he caused me to be targeted,” you grumble, rubbing your wrists, as Satoru takes his suit coat off and places it around your shoulders, before a smirk pulls at your lips.

Suguru tilts his head, smiling, “Well, how would he feel if he knew you got kidnapped on purpose?” And you shrug.

“He doesn’t need to know that.”

~~~

“I’m surprised you guys agreed to my plan,” you hiss as Satoru takes a damp cloth to clean the dried blood from your face, while Suguru is knelt, bandaging your ankles — their rough and bruised hands somehow still gentle, “I thought you would never let me wander into danger,”

“Well, we knew we had to do something when we realized you were listening to us, didn’t we, Princess?” Satoru snorted, and you could hear the smile gracing his features — even with your eyes shut — “and this was the best way to ensure you weren’t hurt,”

“Relatively,” Suguru adds, as he finishes bandaging one ankle, “did she do anything else to you?”

And Satoru’s hand pauses as they both wait for your answer, and you shake your head, “No,” and Satoru pulls the washcloth away, your eyes fluttering open to meet two skeptical gazes, “really, I’m fine,” your lips curl after the two of them look away, Satoru turning to grab a bag of ice for your forehead, while Suguru busied himself with bandaging your other ankle, “is this threat the reason my grandfather sent me to Tokyo?”

The timing had lined up — Akari had started the threats not a few months before — after she had reached legal age, the perfect age to contend for the position of successor to her grandfather. And by sending you here, your grandfather thought he was putting you out of immediate danger — but he didn’t know Akari would make her way to Tokyo.

“More or less,” Satoru sighed, as you flinched when he pressed the ice pack to your head, the condensation from the bag already clinging and dripping down your face, “the geezer wanted to find the source of the threats against you—and by sending you here, to your potential fiancés—“

“I would be safe protected twofold by two of the biggest families—“ and you blink, pulling the ice pack away from your face, “the engagements — that’s why they were leaked — it was to protect me,” you mumble, “so that means—“

“You can go home if you want, Princess,” Suguru says, looking up at you, expression as inscrutable as it always was, “the engagements were only pretense,”

“You both knew?” And Satoru sighs, scratching the back of his head, and why does it feel as if his nails are carving out a piece of your heart.

“The old coot swore us to secrecy, we didn’t have—“

“But, everything, the two of you…the engagement—it’s over,” you say slowly, gaze falling downward. You should be happy, relieved, thrilled — you could go home, what you wanted to do from the start. You could get your own apartment or transfer to a different university—and leave this behind, a bad dream washed away by the events of a new day. So why?

Why did it hurt?

“Don’t tell me you’ll actually miss us, sweetheart?” Satoru teased, a force more than anything — bittersweet worded coated in a sugary sarcasm, “because I very well may propose here and now,”

You almost scoff, but Suguru beats you to it.

“A proposal now? Seems like finishing early isn’t what you just do in bed, Satoru,” Suguru scoffs, as Satoru shoots a glare over his sunglasses, “she’s only eager to get home now isn’t she? "If she isn’t so eager,” he adds, “then she would stop the one she wants from leaving her room, wouldn’t she?”

And Suguru is slowly getting to his feet, while Satoru also turns to leave — and you don’t think—but you were sure that you truly hadn’t thought a single sane thought since you had arrived in Tokyo—

You grab at the fabric of both their shirts, fingers clutching at it, as your lips curled when they glanced back at you.

“Who said either of you could leave?”

~~~

“You’re going to have to use your words,” you murmured, fingers ghosting Satoru’s jaw, a delightful shiver parting his lips as you smiled at him, sat spread at the edge of your bed, “what do you want?” You stepped closer, between his legs, daring even closer.

“Sweetheart, you know what I—“ and a low groan leaves his throat as your fingers slide to the nape of his neck to tug at his snowy locks, “please—“

“I know you love this,” you murmur, leaning to press a kiss to his throat, smiling against his skin, “you said you wanted me to hurt you, so it looks like you’re getting your wish,” your eyes slide to the other, sat in a chair, “I know you like to watch, Suguru, so you must be enjoying yourself,” and you’re further unbuttoning Satoru’s shirt all the same — crisp white button up definitely creased and wrinkled as it fell open, tugged out from his slacks.

Suguru’s fingers flexed against the grain of the wood of the armrests, his muscles taut, his lips a tight line that only matched the fabric of his slacks straining against his erection. The corner of his mouth twitches, and you smirk.

“I didn’t hear an answer, Suguru,” and you’re placing another kiss on Satoru’s neck, a whine leaving his throat, while your eyes find Suguru’s amethyst gaze darkened to nearly black, his knuckles white against the wood, as you lean down to lick a stripe up Satoru’s neck, who bites his bottom lip.

“I’d enjoy it even more if I could touch you, or me,” Suguru adds through gritted teeth, “Princess—“

And you click your tongue, “You had such patience when you were watching me sleep — so where’s that patience now?” Your fingers graze Satoru’s erection through his slacks, and his head is falling back, as Suguru shifts in his seat, not so subtly adjusting himself.

You undo Satoru’s belt, unbuckling it with ease, as his cock slaps against his stomach, and you didn’t know it was possible for a dick to be pretty, but Satoru’s was — a deep flush settled over it, pearly beads of precum dripping from the ruby tip. And a distinct heat begins to throb between your thighs.

“You can touch yourself,” you tell Suguru, his legs twitching to get up, “but you can’t cum until I tell you can,” you run a finger up Satoru’s cock, teasing the weeping tip, a groan leaving the snowy haired man’s lips, “strip, Suguru,”

And he does, you hear the click of his belt, the sound of fabric rustling, as your fingers tease the slit of Satoru’s cock, gathering precum on your fingers, drawing a grunt from his lips. You can hear the distinct sound of Suguru spitting in his palm, his hand beginning to work at his own cock.

“Both s’good for me,” you murmur, as you stroke Satoru’s cock in earnest, the quiet moans from both their mouths sending a ribbon of need to your already dripping cunt, “can’t wait to fuck you both, make you my toys,” and you’re pressing a kiss to Satoru’s tip, his pretty, pink lips parting, as his head rolls back again, “but you’d both like that wouldn’t you? Maybe I shouldn’t let either of you cum, make you beg me all night,” as your tongue traces his lovely vein up the side of his cock, “what do you think, Toru?” And your mouth finally closes around his dick, sucking hard that draws a hiss from his lips, fingers fisted in the sheets.

And Suguru isn’t doing much better, the sounds of his hand squelching and the moans leaving his lips growing louder and louder.

“Please, Princess, I’m close, I can’t—“ and you click your tongue, a pout on your lips, as you pull away your touch, “baby, I—“

“Can’t let either of you cum so fast,” your eyes slide to Suguru, his cheeks flushed a lovely pink that reaches even his ears, as his hand slows, his cock twitching in his fingers, “gotta make you earn it. It’s only right after all the shit you put me through right?”

It’s a cycle, a cycle of you bringing them both to the edge of orgasm, only to tell them to stop. Their sweat slicked brows wrinkled, as you worked them up once again and again and again — you had lost track of how many times.

“Please, please, sweetheart,” and you knew you could get Satoru to beg, but you didn’t think it would be this easy, and you let his dick brush against your throat, as you let him fuck your throat, hips jerking, “fuuuuck, I need to—”

And you’re pulling your lips from his cock with a pop, glancing at Suguru whose black locks are beginning to come loose from their neat bun, more of a mess now than he had been fighting yakuza earlier, and all because of you.

“Suguru? Wanna cum?” you ask, smirking as his gaze raises to meet yours, a desperate look that tells you everything you need to know, “be a good boy and tell me,”

He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, as pre drips down his knuckles, “fuck, Princess,” he’s shaking his head, “ I want to cum, please — I need—”

And your lips curl, “cum for me,” you murmur before you’re wrapping your lips around Satoru again, his tip brushing against your throat, sucking hard, his fingers finding purchase in your hair. And he’s cumming hard, his hot release slides down your throat, nails digging into your scalp, nearly never ending — even as you pull away, his cum paints your face and lips, and drips onto your clothes. His cerulean eyes glazed as he looked down at you between his legs, a string of spit and cum connecting you to his cock.

And Suguru was no better. He had cum hard all over his hand and the floor, his cock still somehow half hard, his body slumped back in the chair, as his chest heaved. His hair tie had long fallen away, his long black locks brushing against his shoulders.

You lick your lips clean of Satoru’s cum, wiping the rest away with the back of your hand, “Made such a mess,” you tsk, as you get to your feet, slipping off your shorts and shirt, before leaning down to kiss Satoru, and he’s still sensitive by the way he jolts against your touch, before melting into it, his tongue parted your lips with ease. And fuck, you hoped he couldn’t see how wet you were — nearly dripping down your thighs at this point.

And you’re pulling away, your thumb dragging down his lips, as his teeth try to catch the finger between them, but you’re too quick. You turn, a smile on your lips, you make your way over to Suguru.

You’re wiping up the mess on the floor with your shirt before kneeling, “made such a mess, Sugu,” and he’s staring at you through half lidded eyes, his fingers brushing your cheek, “did I say you could touch me?”

“You never said I couldn’t,” he murmurs, and god, his voice is far gone, raw and nearly guttural, as his fingers found purchase in your hair, “and I think I earned it after your little performance—“ and he hisses when you lean in, tip of your tongue teasing his slit and licking the dripping cum off his half hard cock, “fuck—“

“Not yet,” you smiled, as you started to lick his cock clean of his cum, “but maybe if you’re good,” he grunts as you sink is cock into your mouth, tongue swirling around his length, licking and sucking — and fuck, he was already twitching in your mouth.

And then he’s easing you off his dick with a tug of your hair, and you’re glancing up at him, a question on the tip of your tongue, but he’s swallowing it with a kiss, as his hands slip down your body to haul you nearly into his lap. Calloused palms find their way to your hips, squeezing lightly, as he pulls away, cupping your chin with his thumb.

“Suguru—” and you yelp as he picks you up with ease, placing you in Satoru’s lap whose hands wind their way around your waist, his fingers already beginning to tease your hardened buds through your bra, a gasp leaving your lips, as Suguru placed his on your neck with a smirk as he murmurs:

“Let me show you how good we can be, sweetheart.”

~~~~

“Tell us what you want, princess,” Satoru murmured in your ear, his warm breath doing nothing to help the needy heat between your thighs, the one that Suguru was knelt between, his large palms spreading you before him, “is she as wet as I think, Suguru?”

And Suguru catches your gaze, a wicked smile on his lips as he replies, “Wetter, she’s a mess, aren’t you?” you bite your lip to stop a whimper from leaving your lips as his fingers graze the growing wet patch on your panties. And your squirming only makes Satoru grunt, his erection pressed against you, the friction doing little to help either of you.

“Fuckers,” and Satoru clicks his tongue, a smile on his lips as he turns your head.

“Think I have a better use for that mouth of yours, sweetheart,” and his lips find yours, right as Suguru toys with the elastic of your panties, snapping it against your skin, Satoru swallows the small noise that escapes your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth as it does.

And god, you already can’t even think straight.

Satoru’s fingers are pushing up your bra, teasing your nipples, as Suguru pressing a kiss to your dripping cunt through your soaked underwear.

“So pretty,” Suguru murmurs, and Satoru’s lips part from yours, gaze darkening as he drags his thumb down your kiss ruined lips, and he tugs your drenched panties down, “and your cunt is even prettier, isn’t it princess?”

And you were — your gorgeous pussy was glossy with your pre, dripping all over his fingers when he parts your messy folds, “Bet she’s even tighter, isn’t she?” Satoru murmurs, as his dick twitches against your ass, “

You whine as his words warm your aching pussy, your eyes flickering downwards, as Suguru’s lips graze your inner thigh, and you already know Satoru’s pouting.

“You’re taking your goddamn time, Suguru, when do I get my chance?” He grumbles, nose brushing against your neck, as you can’t help but chuckle.

“You got your turn, and now it’s time for you to watch,” and your giggle turns to a soft gasp when his lips press a kiss to your clit, “and sweetheart, can’t wait to see how you’ll punish me for this later — because I’m not stopping until you beg me to,”

Your lips part with a reply, but he pulls a moan from your lips instead as his tongue drags up the length of your weeping entrance. God, fuck, how did you taste this good? His tongue flicked against your puffy clit, drawing lazy circles, your slick already drenching his chin and lips.

“So fucking good, baby, s’good f’me,” and your fingers are threading their way into his dark locks, pulling him even closer, his lips closing around your clit to suck, “could live in this pretty cunt,” he grunts, the tip of his tongue teasing your entrance.

Your head falls against Satoru’s shoulders, a groan fell from his lips as his cock dragged against your ass, your slick drenching his thighs and cock alike, “can’t wait to sink my cock into you, fuck,” Satoru murmurs, the wet squelch of your cunt rang in his ears, and he could imagine how wet and warm you’d be once he sunk into you, inch by inch.

And he couldn’t wait — he needed to do something.

Satoru’s fingers found their way down your body, tweaking your nipple before one large palm dragged slowly down your front, until he found your clit right above Suguru’s face.

“Toru,” you gasp, as his fingers pinch your clit and Suguru glares, pulling his lips away for a moment, only to sink a finger back in insteas, drawing a moan from your lips, “Sugu—fuck—“

And it’s too much, one more touch and you’re cumming, body falling back into Satoru, as Suguru fucks you through your orgasm. Your release runs down their fingers, as Satoru lifts his hand a moment to lick his fingers clean.

God, you’re too pretty for your own good, Satoru’s eyes drag over you — your kiss ruined lips, skin shiny from your sweat, and the way your eyes were lost in an endless pool of lust.

“Suguru was right, you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” Satoru grin, gently turning your head, and you’re panting, nose wrinkling ever so slightly at his words, and he tuts, “don’t believe me? Well I can fix that,” and his lips find yours again, letting you taste yourself, swallowing your moans, as Suguru continued to finger fuck you.

Suguru’s finger stretches you open, fluttering, knuckle deep, as your precum drips down his fingers.

“Remember who’s fucking this cunt, sweetheart,” and Suguru is, another finger parting your needy folds, and between Satoru rubbing your clit and Suguru’s fingers curling to find that one spot, drags against your insides, “fuck, how are we going to fit, Satoru? She’s still so tight,” Suguru grunts.

You pull your lips from Satoru’s, a whine leaving your lips, “More, please, I need—“ and a third finger joins the other two — but it’s not Suguru’s.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking soft,” Satoru groans, pressing soft kisses to your skin, only serving to make you keen at their touch, and your walls flutter around their fingers.

“Fuck, we’re trying to fuck her open and she just keeps getting tighter,” Suguru grunts, while Satoru’s lips find your earlobe, sucking, just as he adds another finger, a moan escaping your lips again.

Suguru’s fingers fuck at a steady pace, fucking deeper and deeper, while Satoru’s are faster, pistoning in and out while dragging against your walls — and it’s not long until they are working you up to a second orgasm, it’s too fucking good — and they both find that spot in you that has you seeing stars.

“I’m g’nna—” and Satoru finds your lips in a sloppy kiss, saliva slipping from the corner of your mouth. And you cum, even harder, your swollen folds clamping down on their fingers as they continue to fuck you unendingly through your orgasm. Your lips pull away, only to moan their names, again and again, until they finally slow down.

“Good girl,” Suguru murmurs, pressing sweet kisses to your thighs, while you come down from your high, walls flutter around nothing at the praise, while Satoru nips at your neck right above your racing pulse. And your eyes find Suguru lazily palming his weeping erection, as you lift your bare foot to rub against it, making him hiss, while you rub against Satoru teasingly.

“Don’t forget who’s in control,” you kiss Satoru again, before biting his bottom lip, and he’s melting into your touch, “and, you were good,” your foot rubs against Suguru’s cock again, drawing another pretty groan from his lips, “but now it’s time to be obedient.”

And they are — as you have Satoru sit back against the pillow lined headboard, because if it was anything you knew now — Satoru loved to be controlled, while Suguru liked the illusion of control, even if he didn’t have even a bit of it. So you have Suguru kneeling behind you, as you climb into Satoru’s lap, a small groan leaving his lips as your cunt grazes his hard cock.

“Such a good boy, aren’t you, Toru?” your fingers run through his hair — and god, his undercut was so fucking hot, as your fingers found his cock, letting the tip tease your soaked folds, as you line yourself up, “tell me what you want,”

“Fuck, princess, y’know what I want,” and a whine leaves his throat when you let his tip sink into you, only to pull out.

“Come on, nothing else to say? You always love running that mouth, don’t you? You wanted this, wanted me to ruin you, didn’t you? Well here we are,” you hum, as you press a teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth, “beg me,”

And his dick twitches, painfully hard, and the words spill from his lips, “Please, please, sweetheart, use me, use my cock as a toy, want you to fuck me so bad, make me yours—” and you’re sinking onto his cock, his length parting your folds, as moans fall from both of your lips. And he bottoms out, your hips meeting his as you do, and you can feel every vein, every ridge, every inch notched inside your walls.

“Toru, fuck, s’good, s’big,” it feels too fucking good, and he’s so long — god, he was brushing against places you never even dreamed of reaching. And your pussy clenched at the thought of how deep he would go when he would start thrusting.

“Sure you have space for me, Princess?” Suguru leans back over to press kisses all over your face, before finding your lips in a heated kiss, “might be too tight of a fit,” his nose brushing against your cheek.

“I’ll make you fit,” you murmur against his lips, your hands against Satoru’s chest, as you shift to cup his chin, “get behind me, Sugu,”

Suguru smirks, slipping behind you, pressing himself against your back, dragging his cock teasingly against you, “So needy — you’re worse than Satoru,” and Satoru makes a noise of protest, but your walls flutter, making his back arch, “want me inside you, sweetheart?” And his tip teases at your entrance, brushing against Satoru’s cock, causing all three of you to moan, “tell me how much you want us to fuck you, how much you want both of us inside you,”

“Fucker, I swear to god,” you turn your head, your glare undercut by the desperation on your face, “just fuck me—

And Suguru sinks into you, your head falling back against him, as both of their cocks stretch your cunt out. You were so fucking full. And the way your walls clenched around them was nearly enough to make them cum. Their groans come in unison.

“Fuck, Princess, you don’t have to break our dicks off — we’ll fuck you again,” Suguru grunts, his rough palms sliding to your hips to squeeze them.

“S’good, sweetheart, so fucking right for us,” and you can’t think straight with the two of them inside of you, and you’re moaning.

“Please, move—“ and they oblige, beginning to fuck you. You moved against Satoru, riding him as best you can, while Suguru fucked you from behind, his balls slapping against your ass.

Suguru drives into you at a steady pace, causing you to rock against Satoru, your hips pressed against his, as they both drive deeper and deeper into your wet cunt.

“S’good, so pretty,” Suguru presses sweet kisses to your neck, while Satoru’s eyes flutter open to meet yours, “I’m close, Satoru—“

“Me too,” Satoru manages, and his hips begin to meet your thrusts, “you gonna cum for us princess?” And he finds your gaze, the fucked out expression enough to nearly make him cum right there.

A whine leaves your lips, as they continue to fuck you, and you know you’re so close. And then they find that spot in you again, and you’re falling apart, lips parted in a moan, both their names on your lips. You clamp down on them, toes curling as you cum, and neither of them can last. Their hips stutter as they give sloppy thrusts, until they both cum,

They groan your name as they spurt their thick cum inside, notching themselves as deep as they could, continuing to fuck their cum inside you with messy thrusts.

A whimper escapes your lips between pants, as your arms and legs shake from your position, utterly fucked out. You three stay like that for a moment, both of their sweet nothings they murmur to you falling on deaf ears.

And then finally they are shifting you onto the bed, pressing soft kisses to your face and neck, as your eyes flutter shut. There’s shifting on the bed, as one of them leaves for a moment, and you make a noise, only to be reassured that he’ll be right back.

Your eyes finally flutter open to find Satoru and Suguru cleaning you up with a wet washcloth, and your gaze finds both of their own. Your lips curl at the sight of them, their gentle gaze enough to make your heart ache.

“Come back,” you whine, and they both chuckle, as they begin to finish drying you off, before tossing the washcloth into the wastebasket, and crawling back beside you. They help you pull a shirt on, before settling in.

“So needy,” Satoru murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, even as he buries his face in your chest, his warm breath tickling you as you run your fingers softly through his white locks. And Suguru presses himself to your back, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, his arm around your waist, and yours resting on top of his.

“What will we do with her?” Suguru mutters, and you can hear the smirk in his tone.

“Shut up,” you mumble, your eyes beginning to feel heavy, as you give into the warmth that enveloped you from their bodies, as it lulled you to sleep. And your lips curled into a smile, a smile that had you wondering right before you slipped into sleep—

When was it that you fell for them?

~~~~

You couldn’t do this. Not to them.

That’s what you had decided come morning — waking up between entangled limbs and soft breaths against your skin — how could you? You felt Satoru shift closer to you, as you leaned into his touch, running your fingers through Suguru’s black locks. You were addicted to their touch only after one night, and now you had to spend the rest of your life without it.

It was the only way.

This whole thing was ridiculous to begin with — you never cared to be involved in the yakuza to begin with. You wanted a normal life — or at least as normal of a life you could have with who your grandfather was. You had never expected to end up wrapped up in all of this — and in both of them.

But you didn’t know if you could choose between them — and you knew, you had to. It wasn’t fair to either of them — not when they had asked you to choose last night and they had indulged you in both of them. And now, you didn’t want to let either of them go.

So you had to let both of them go.

You shifted slowly to sit up, Your fingers traced Satoru’s cheek lightly, as you toyed with a strand of Suguru’s hair. They both still stayed fast asleep, quiet snores filling the silence of the early morning, deep in the embrace of sleep after the events of last night and the last few weeks. You didn’t want to be someone like your grandfather — you didn’t know what you wanted and that was enough of an answer wasn’t it?

The two shift in their sleep, and your body grows heavy, your back still aching from last night, as you lie back down beside them, running your fingers over both of their arms.

Even if you had your answer, you didn’t have to face it for another few hours. And their bodies shifted, Satoru burying his face in the nape of your neck, while you rested against Suguru’s chest. This was enough — enough to last you a lifetime, wasn’t it? Your eyes fluttered shut, sinking slowly back to sleep. You had told your grandfather you’d break their hearts —

—but you didn’t know you would be breaking yours as well.

~~~

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Satoru narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms, as Suguru stepped aside to show the empty room you had left behind — a bare husk with nothing left behind, not even a note.

It had been a day.

When Satoru had woken up beside you, he could have sworn he was still dreaming, even as he grazed your skin gently with the back of his knuckles, he still couldn’t quite believe it. And when he spotted Suguru pressing kisses to your cheek, he knew it was real.

“How long have you been awake?” Satoru raised an eyebrow, “it’s not fair to have your fun while we were asleep,”

And Suguru rolled his eyes, as he rubbed the back of his knuckles gently against her cheek, “I just woke up, and all I did was kiss her, you idiot,”

“Not fair, that means I have to kiss her too,” Satoru murmurs, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and cheek, and one even to your nose. Your nose wrinkles in your sleep, and Satoru’s lips quirk upwards, “she’s so exhausted from last night still,”

“She is,” Suguru hums, as he tilts his head, “what are we going to do about last night?”

Satoru pauses a moment to consider, “Well, what is there to discuss? She chose us both, didn’t she?” Satoru leaned close to you, to press a kiss to your head.

“She did,” Suguru props himself up with his elbow on his side, “I thought you weren’t one to share,”

And Satoru shrugged — he wasn’t one to share, he wanted what was his to be his alone, but with you — the more people to protect you, the better, “If it’s what makes her happy, I don’t mind,” and he adds, “and I don’t mind if it’s you that I’m sharing with,”

Suguru raises an eyebrow, a chuckle on his lips, “Is that so? Well, good,” as he runs a finger through your hair, “because I feel the same.”

But Satoru supposed you didn’t.

“When did she—“

“My father told me she contacted her grandfather this morning, and let them know she was leaving — and her single request was to send us away on business so we wouldn’t be able to stop her,” and Satoru gives a bitter chuckle.

“So that’s it?” Satoru crosses his arms, “why did she—“ and he cuts himself off, “have you tried to call—“

“I’m blocked, I assume you are too,” Suguru shook his head, a silence settling over the two of them that Satoru chose to break.

“Do we go after her?” And Suguru pauses, his brow wrinkling a moment, before he sighs, shaking his head.

“If she comes back, it has to be her choice,” Suguru slid his hands into his pockets, “otherwise, we’re back to square one,” and he adds, “and I don’t think I can go back after last night.”

Suguru steps away, heading back down the hallway, and Satoru follows.

No, Satoru thinks, sparing one glance at the empty room, before pulling the door shut, neither could he.

~~~

“Why did you come back?” You set another box down, wiping the sweat from your brow, your grandfather simply watching as you brought your things back into your room.��

“What a warm welcome,” you scoff, as you head back out to pick up another — the other staff had offered to help, but you had waved them off, lifting another box, your back still aching — and now you were starting to regret it. But you knew if you didn’t do something to distract yourself — your phone taunting you on the top of your desk — you’d do something you’d regret.

And you’d already filled your quota for the next six months at least.

“Don’t get me wrong, kid,” the geezer sighed, as he watched you bring the last of the boxes in, “I’m glad you’re back and the matters are all settled — but,” he tilts his head, “you seem more miserable than before,”

“I’m just tired,” you reply, but his furrowed brow says he’s unconvinced, as you grab a box cutter and begin to open up the boxes, beginning to sort through your things, “and still trying to wrap my head around the fact you lied to me,”

And he sighs, “this isn’t about me right now — it’s about you—“

“How convenient,” you mutter under your breath.

“You’re in love, aren’t you?” And you can’t help but freeze for a moment, until you force yourself to continue unpacking, pulling out some of your clothes from the box, “which one is it?”

The question stabs between your ribs like a well thrust sword between the ribs, finding the center of the problem — along with your heart.

“Gramps—”

“So it’s both of them?” and you whirl on him, your eyes narrowing, and he chuckles, holding up his hand, “I didn’t spy — I just took a guess,” he sighed, as he pulled out your desk chair and took a seat in it, “and it looks like I was right,”

You swallow, your eyes falling to the floor, “I didn’t cheat, if that’s what—”

He laughs, “I know you aren’t like me, little one,” he leans back in the chair, hands folded in his lap, “you aren’t one to lie — because I know there’s more you hate than liars,” and his gaze grows a little sadder, “And I’m sorry I had to become one of them,”

You grit your teeth, “I’m not mad at you — I’m just—” you choose your words carefully — because you’re angry, you were upset — upset that he felt as if he couldn’t trust you, “wondering why you didn’t tell me the truth,”

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, “My past isn’t something I’m proud of, and I wanted to deal with it without involving you,” he sighed, “after everything with our family — I didn’t want to give you another reason to distance yourself from me,”

“Lying to me isn’t a better option than that,” he rubs the back of his head, “you have to make it right for Akari and her mother — as well as if you have any other kids—I don’t need to know,” you add, when he opens his mouth, “it isn’t fair to them,” and it would be no fairer to not choose between Satoru and Suguru.

“You’re right,” he raises a brow, “is that the problem? You can’t choose between the two of them, eh?” and your gaze refuses to meet his, “have you talked to them about it?” and your silence serves as an answer, “then I think you should take your own advice and talk to them about it,”

“What will that do?” you murmur, “they still will want me to choose—”

“Do you know that for a fact?” he crosses his arms, “I think you owe it to them and to yourself to talk to them, and to your grandfather who can’t stand to see you this miserable at home,”

“Do you think it will change anything?” and he shrugs.

“Maybe it will or maybe it won’t,” he tilts his head, as he pulls out his phone to call you a car, “but if it’s a chance for you to be happy, isn’t it worth taking?”

~~~~

“I want to marry you both,”

And again, your statement is met with confused stares, as you had all but pulled up to their compound and entered to find them seated together discussing business in a side room — and their stares were still anything but average — but to you now, they meant so much more.

“Not marry you right now, but maybe eventually,” adrenaline was surely pumping through your system, right? That’s probably why your hands were shaking and your mouth was dry, but even so you knew you needed to say it before they spoke, “I’m sorry for leaving the way I did. I told myself after we first met I wouldn’t be a coward, but I was when I ran away, and I don’t have any excuse,” you swallowed, “but I know what I want — and I want both of you, as selfish as that feels,” guilt crawled up your throat at the statement of that sentence, as if begging you to swallow the words that spilled from your lips back up, “and I don’t know how either of you feel — but if we were to do this, I would want us to be honest and—”

And the screech of their chairs takes you aback, and you felt your cheeks burn, was this it?

But instead of brushing past you, they stand in front of you, one of them tilting your head upwards to meet their gazes.

“Took you long enough, sweetheart,” Satoru’s lips curled, his hand cupping your cheek, “I know we said we wanted you to hurt us, but not like that,”

“Sent us away just to ghost us,” Suguru clicked his tongue, his fingers still under your chin, “I’ll have to plant a tracker on you again,”

You shake your head, “Wait, what? Are you both okay—”

“We did say we’d kill the other for your hand, but,” Suguru presses a kiss to your forehead, “But now we realize the more eyes watching you, the better, and,” he shrugs, “we don’t mind sharing if it’s just with the other,”

“And I know you’ll prefer me sooner or later,” Satoru adds, earning a glare from Suguru, as you only chuckle, “Suguru is always so grumpy—ow!” Suguru smacks on the back of the head, as the black haired yakuza wraps his arms around you, pressing your back to his front.

“And you are always too busy running your mouth,” Suguru replies, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “sure you can handle both of us in your life?” and you pull Satoru close too, letting his lips brush yours, before turning and pressing a kiss to Suguru.

“Shouldn’t you be asking yourselves that?” you say, as the two of them wrap an arm around you, “I am supposed to ruin your lives after all.”

✧ a/n: so this has been a longtime coming. i was supposed to be working on prof geto (5) + my nanami celebration fic but this took over my life and wouldn't let go until i finished. so i hope you guys enjoy!! and this is my reminder why i don't write multi partner scenes like this often because its....difficult. thank you to @gaylatteart for reading and putting up with me <333

✧ taglist: @midmourn, @whore-for-hawks, @ekaterinatepes, @satoryaa, @mandysfanfics, @sodoney, @sukunasfavoritehole, @kazbrkker, @satorugirlie, @itsbokutosjuicyass, @santos4, @levanadragoneel, @talkativetranscendant, @abiiebibie, @simply-a-s1mp, @jolynelovesrain, @deegausserr, @xxemmarldxx, @biancaness, @satoniko, @ackermanbby, @rintoriss, @kentocalls, @marionettte, @bear-likes-mushrooms, @forest-hashira, @catsgomurp, @k1t0u, @rat-loves, @forest-fruits-jam, @wishingforanother, @roseified, @spider-fan72, @caelestine-the-caelicatto, @gojolvrr34, @chosobun, @chuuyasboots, @nanamis-baker, @hanxyy,