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the-grimm-writer · 12 days ago

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COMPLICATIONS #1

She turns to look at you, eyes watery and smile brittle. Your answering expression fragile as a fossil, doomed to be buried under someone else's history.

TR x Reader vignettes

Draken, Emma, Hanma, Kakucho, Kisaki, Rindou, and varying Reader characters

features accidental pregnancy, ambiguous relationship, angst, babytrapping, dubious consent, forced marriage, friends with benefits, heavy pining, smut

there will be a second part with other characters at some point in the future

*meme from @ tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang

*dividers by @ strangergraphics

*member of @pixelcafe-network

Draken

For one horrific moment you nearly lose control of your stupid mouth. You force yourself to moan his name into his shoulder instead, to cover up the mistake you almost spoke into the world. Though in some way he might understand. Afterall he has had to hold back some words of his own as well (presumably her name). It's obvious from the guilt in his avoidant gaze.

If he felt you tense up beneath him, it did nothing to deter him from chasing his high. Draken was kinder than his reputation let on, but that consideration always disappears the second he sticks his dick in you. He maintains the same rough tempo as though you had never even opened your mouth. Draken's hips slam into yours as he pulls you into him, arms wrapping under your back to eliminate as much space as possible. It might be romantic if it was anyone else.

"What are you doing?" You practically jump out of your seat when you feel his hand on your thigh. The placement is too high to be casual, the touch more like a caress.

"I've always heard things, growing up in the brothel. Even when I play music. It didn’t use to get to me."

"Okay? And how the fuck is that my problem?" Even if you didn't like Emma, you aren't about to start something with someone who isn't available.

"This thing with Emma… it isn't good for her. Gang life is dangerous."

"It’s not like she's separate from it. Her brother is Toman's leader. I wouldn't have even met her if it wasn’t at a Toman party."

"But she can distance herself if she wants. Emma isn't built for violence."

A bitter taste builds up in the back of your throat. Your sukeban gang is loosely allied with Toman. Unlike his dream girl, you are suited to this type of chaos.

"Have you even thought about giving her a choice in this?"

"When she's older, when I'm sure it's not just a crush." The hand creeps higher, until he's running his fingers along the most sensitive part of you. "I know you know it doesn't mean anything.

In reciprocation you wrap arms around him to claw his broad shoulders, thrust your hips upward to get that extra bit of clitoral stimulation to push you over the edge. It's like the moment when a rollercoaster drops; there's no thrill like it and you can't help but scream.

"You're so fucking wet." Each word is punctuated by a heavy thrust.

Faint sounds from the too-thin walls tell you that you're not the only ones seeking transactional pleasure. Distraction and relief is what you offer one another instead of money changing hands, but it's still just as hollow once the brief escape ends.

"Can I come inside you?"

Almost every time he asks. Draken won't beg, but you suspect he's got a strong breeding kink if he's asking for something so risky. He's lucky that you have excellent willpower because you know he doesn't want to be tied down to you.

"No, stupid." You spit out, barely coming down from your climax. He huffs out a laugh, which turns to a groan.

All rhythm is lost. It's as though he is trying to mash your bodies together to create one dysfunctional being. Overstimulation is threatening to make you cry. You're relieved when he groans into your hair, filling the condom.

In the aftermath it's quiet and a little awkward, like always. Draken never seems to know how to disengage after taking time to indulge in his urges. You always do it for him, getting up and throwing your clothes on while saying a casual goodbye. Even if it's in your own room you can easily find an excuse to leave.

Draken is motionless as a statue. The only sound is the rustling of clothes. Until his phone buzzes. You both freeze. It's like an earthquake shook and severed the ground between you. While you know you shouldn't, you glance over at him anyway.

The flush on his face isn't from exertion anymore. He doesn't have to say that the message is from Emma. It’s in the way his body relaxes, how the corners of his lips almost stretch up into a smile.

"You know, you could be doing this with her." You often think it, but now seems as good a time as any to put it out there. Tear off the bandaid now before it can sting any worse.

Draken tenses before gritting his teeth and spitting out a reply. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Why? You're being stupid. Before we started fucking we were friends. So I don't see why you can't talk to me about it like before?"

"No. I don’t fucking want to talk about her."

Draken stands up, uncaring of his nudity. You may not be his size, but you don't back down when he walks up either.

"With me?"

"With you." He snarls, towering over you.

"I think I'm done, Draken. It's not fun anymore." The pressure builds behind your eyes, but you hold it in.

"Wait." He sounds resigned as he takes a little step back. Draken drags a large hand down his face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

You resume yanking on your pants. A little faster and rougher than before. By the time Draken decides to say something else, you're fully dressed.

"I'm just not sure how to handle things. I'm in love with Emma, but you—" You reach up to throw a hand over his mouth.

"Stop it. Stop right there. You're in love with Emma." And she loves you too, idiot.

Draken nods his head in agreement, shoulders gravitating downward. It's a surprise when he leans down enough to touch his forehead against your own. So this is it then?

"Bye, Draken."

You kiss your hand where his lips are and then leave his place for what you're sure is the last time. The place where his lips reciprocated on your palm tingles for hours afterward.

Emma

"Fuck off Mikey! We're studying!"

Hearing Emma scream and swear jolts you almost as much as the banging on her bedroom door. If you gasp you don't really notice; her hand covers your mouth to contain your panting to your throat.

The knocking stops. Unintelligible grumbling makes it's way through the crack under the door before you hear footsteps leading away. Her shoulders lower as some of the tension leaves her body. Uncovering your mouth, she lets her hand fall down to your calf. Emma gives it absentminded strokes as she stares at the door.

"If you’re trying to be subtle, I don't think you're succeeding." You comb your fingers through her hair. It got tangled in your fists, it's only fair that you fix it now.

It's been two months since you started 'practicing'. Unnecessary really, since the way Draken pined after her made it obvious that there was nobody else. But she was convinced that growing up in a brothel meant he had to be knowledgeable at the very least. You don't exactly understand how learning to eat pussy will help her in a relationship with Draken, but you aren't about to turn her down either. Especially not now when you're starting to feel like you can't breathe without her.

"Do you… do you think he knows?" Her eyes flick down to your bare breasts. Emma licks her lips before meeting your gaze once more.

"I mean, he's your brother. You would know better than me."

"You're one of his best friends. You know him in a way I never will." Full of surprises today. Emma has never struck you as the most observant person.

"Well…" You consider the way he's been looking at you lately. A bit less like his childhood friend from karate and more like a mystery he's just beginning to comprehend. "Yeah, he might. Or he suspects something."

"Do you think he'll tell Draken?"

"No." This you're confident in. "Draken is his brother by choice, but you're his sister by blood. He would never do something to hurt you."

"Good."

She turns to look at you, eyes watery and smile brittle. Your answering expression fragile as a fossil, doomed to be buried under someone else's history.

"Good."

Hanma

Satisfying. That's the word on the edge of your lips. It's so satisfying seeing your ex (if you could even call him that) caught off-guard.

"Fuck. Say that again." He steadies himself against your kitchen counter.

At the best of times Hanma was restless. It's part of why your fling was so short-lived. There was always some thrill to chase, someone else to eye up. If it hadn't been for your accidental pregnancy you probably wouldn't have ever crossed paths again. It didn't help that he initially wanted you to get an abortion.

"I know you heard me. Mizuki's two now. I want her to have a sibling close in age. And I want that sibling to have the same dad."

"Really?" He sounds so hopeful it almost melts your resolve.

Once Hanma came around to the idea of being a parent, he wanted to be all in. As a father and a partner. But by then he had missed eighth months of your pregnancy; Hanma had spent nearly three full trimesters panicking and sleeping his way through Tokyo. Since then he had never given you any reason to doubt his dedication to fatherhood, but you would never consider him a romantic prospect again.

"Strictly procreation and co-parenting. Once I'm pregnant I don't want to see your dick ever again." You fold your arms across your chest and raise a brow, daring him to challenge you.

Instead Hanma just swallows and gives a resigned nod. His eyes are glassy and it makes you want to throw up all of your organs (especially your heart).

"You're never going to forgive me, are you?"

"Hanma, there's nothing to forgive because we were never really together. I only told you about the pregnancy out of obligation, I never expected you to stick around." Each word is a serrated knife gouging out your chest. If you blink too much you'll cry too.

"I wish you would stop calling me Hanma. I'm Shuji to you. Only you." The tip of his nose is the most adorable shade of red. The same shade your daughter's gets when tears are running down her chubby little cheeks.

"I think it's better if you're not."

"I love you. I fucking love you. There hasn't been a single other person since I came back."

You sigh and let the old, familiar anger crawl it's way back up your throat. "If you can't handle this, I'll find someone else."

"Don’t you fucking dare." He snarls, attitude completely changed. "If another man touches you I'll break all his fingers."

You step forward and pat his cheek, relieved that the heavy moment has passed. He attempts to bite your fingers but you pull them back too quickly for him to catch up. "There's that mercurial fool I've come to expect."

It's so much easier this way, when you fit into your assigned roles without too much complexity. Hanma pines from afar while acting like a toxic asshole up close, and you live inside the armor of coping mechanisms you've constructed for yourself. Grey areas have never been your strength.

"Get yourself tested if you're in, Shuji."

Kakucho

"Pick one." That’s what the leader of Bonten, who you now know is Mikey, said to you.

"What?" You didn't understand what he wanted. Sniffling, you rubbed your nose with the back of a bloody hand. "What do you— what—"

"I don't really want to kill you. I don’t like killing women, and you have some value. But I can't let you go. So pick one of these idiots to marry."

"Yo Mikey what the fuck?" A man with long purple hair yelled.

"I'm not really the settling down type." Said another as he rubbed his chin in thought. He had a long scar going down his face and oozed sleaze.

"I might be." This from a man with the most hideous goatee you had ever seen. Absolutely fucking not.

"Is this really necessary?" A tall man with a jagged scar bisecting his forehead spoke next. He sounded gentler than the rest, almost as if the possibility of hurting a woman in one way or another was painful itself.

The choice, if it could even be called that, was obvious. You pointed at the man who would become your husband. "Him. I choose him."

&&&

Two quiet, distant years. Given this fact, you shouldn't be surprised that he didn't show up for the anniversary dinner you spent hours putting together. In retrospect it was painfully naive to assume that one night together six months would mean as much to him as it does to you. If he doesn't show up to your ultrasounds, why would he make an appearance now? If you were anyone else other than yourself, you wouldn't blame him for wanting to be anywhere other than a babyproofed apartment with a wife he didn't ask for. Instead you decide to spend no more than ten minutes crying in your bedroom before cleaning up the meal he didn't eat.

By the time you emerge your eyes are puffy, your nose swollen and runny, and your resolve as strong as steel. Soon enough your daughter will be here and you won't be able to waste time being sad over a gangster who doesn't care. Putting away the food is quick work, too quick in fact. Same with dealing with the dishes and any remaining mess. All that's left is to put the gift you bought him in his room. You contemplate hiding it in the bottom of your closet, but cowardice isn't what you want your child raised around. So when the kitchen and dining area look untouched, you grab the gift bag from the table and make your way to his bedroom.

It's dark when you open the door. There's not even moonlight to penetrative the shadows, since he left his curtains closed. Even without the light, you have a vague idea of your way around the large bedroom. It's not as though you haven't never been in there, it's just that occasions are few and far between. The most time you've spent in there was when he got shot in the thigh and you helped him recover. You even slept in there with him once, on the night of your daughter's conception.

You pass the dresser, ignoring that the sole photo in his room doesn't have you in it. The gift goes directly on his bed so he doesn't miss it. You should leave, but you can't quite bring yourself to yet. Instead you stroke the soft bedding, taking in the crisp masculine scent that coats his room. Everything in Kakucho's room is orderly and clean. Just like the man himself. Nonetheless you fluff his pillows, just to feel like you're contributing something to his life. You can't help but dwell on the last time you felt this bed underneath your fingers.

You're still laying over top of him, filled with his softening cock, when he clears his throat and begins to shift underneath you.

"We shouldn't do this again."

You stiffen and force yourself to sit up, still straddling him. "What do you mean?"

"I don't want to put you at risk even more than you already are just by being married to me. I don’t want to die in a shootout and have you mourn my loss."

"Is that why you never bring me to any Bonten events?" Every time you see him leaving the apartment dressed in one of his finer suits, you choke up a little knowing you aren't invited to this part of his life.

"It’s for the best." His gaze is steel beneath you, unyielding. Kakucho effortlessly lifts you off of him and places you gently on the bed. "It’s bad enough that you are forced to be here at all."

Feeling both self-conscious and indignant, you cover your breasts with one arm. "The best for who? For your foolish wife who can't seem to help herself? Or for you? Our marriage isn't exactly the secret you seem to think it is, so it can't be me you're trying to protect!"

"You don't know what I've lost!" Kakucho screams at you. He's never so much as raised his voice around you before this moment. It jolts you out of your anger. Your sinuses burn as you hold back the tears. In the moonlight you think you can see tears building up along his waterline too.

"A life of crime is a life perpetually on the verge of death."

"All life is lived right next door to death! People die slipping in the shower. There's no guarantee that a moral life will be a long one. If you’re going to be a gangster the least you can do is not be a coward."

He doesn't dispute you as you storm out and slams the door.

Lost in recollection, you don't realize that you're sitting on his bed until you hear knocking on the door. You welcome the unexpected intrusion. It's hard to suppress your affection when you're caressing his pillow.

The security staff for your building was vetted by Kakucho, so you're not worried about who it might be. Nonetheless you look through the peephole to check. You're met with purple hair and fidgety hands tapping out some rhythm on your doorframe.

"Rindou!" You open the door to see one of your only friends in the whole Bonten organization.

He gives you a half smirk before he drops it, resuming his usual dour expression. You have been told he used to smile a lot when he was younger, but the pleasure faded from his face over his years in Bonten.

"Hey. Wanted to check up on you."

"Why? Is everything okay with Kakucho?" While you do spend time together every so often, the only time he ever showed up this late was when your husband got shot.

"Yeah, yeah. He's just working late with Mikey and Sanzu."

"Did he send you?" Smother the hope in your heart.

"Nah. I just know he's been working a lot of late nights these days, and you're here on your own." He shrugs, looking somewhere over your shoulder. "I hate thinking of you being all by yourself. What if something happened?"

"Oh." There's a new feeling sizzling through your nerves. Something unfamiliar, never before considered, but not unpleasant. "Thank you, Rin. I can call you Rin, right?"

A red flush begins to bloom across his face. "Of course."

It occurs to you that you're on the precipice of change. A fork in the road. You take a step closer to Rindou and consider your options. Your swollen belly sits between you two, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"Do you ever wonder what life would be like if I chose you instead?"

"What? Why are you asking me this?" He glances over his own shoulders now, gently pushing you back into your apartment. He scans your face for some kind of confirmation before stepping over the threshold hinself. "You trying to get me in trouble?"

"You're the one who showed up here in the middle of the night."

"Ah fuck. Fine. Yes, I do. I mean I think all of the guys who aren't involved with someone think about it too."

"Really?" Why it hadn't crossed your mind before, you don't know. Of course they think of the time their boss almost commanded them to get married. "I mean, I guess it isn't everyday your boss forces a bride on you."

"I mean, yeah. But that isn't it."

"Hmm?" You want him to continue, daring to imagine whatever he says will soothe your aching soul.

"I'm just saying. If it were me in Kakucho's shoes, I would never work late. Not unless Mikey held a gun to my head."

Earlier tonight it felt like happiness would never shine its light on you again, but here you are grinning. "Thank you. I needed to hear that."

"Hey, hey. It's okay."

Before you ask him what he means, his hands cup your face as he wipes your wet cheeks with his thumbs. It's been so long since a man has touched you. Rindou's hands smell metallic and his calluses are rough but somehow it's still perfect. Now that you're aware, the tears really begin to flow.

"I… I didn't know. Didn't mean to." Embarrassment threatens to pull you away from the sweetness of the moment like a vicious tide. You sink your teeth into your lower lip to keep from sobbing.

"It’s okay, baby." Rindou leans down and presses his forehead to yours.

Human contact has never felt so divine, so necessary. It's just dawning on you how much Kakucho has left you wanting in the most vulnerable time of your life.

You're both so distracted that you don't hear the little ding of the elevator.

Kisaki

It had been a mistake going home with him that first night. You knew it then. The subsequent nights were no less foolish. You knew that too. So you should have known better than to trust someone you barely knew with your health and wellbeing, should have insisted he used a condom and not trusted his word when he said he couldn't get you pregnant.

It wasn't so long ago that you found yourself in a club after a messy breakup, looking for a distraction. Maybe that's why you went home with a stranger. You just happened to glance up from the bar to the VIP area on the second floor. He was up there, leaning over the railing and swirling his drink while he talked to another man. Your first thought was "Who wears a suit to a club in July?". If he hadn't happen to look in your direction at that moment, you probably would never have ended up in Kisaki Tetta's bed.

"Why?"

"Why what?" He clenches his jaw, a tell you've come to realize means he's holding himself back. "Say what you mean."

"Why did you lie and say you couldn't get me pregnant?"

"Why did you you trust me? You know who I am."

It was obvious before you even made it to his penthouse. Kisaki hadn't tried to be inconspicuous when he dismissed his employees, when he opened his full wallet to pay for your drinks, when he called his driver to take you home. His forearms may have been bare of the tattoos you had come to expect from criminals, but he was no less dangerous.

"Fuck you." You threw the positive test at his face. He may not be as physically fit or imposing as someone like Hanma, but it was easy enough for him to catch it anyway.

Suddenly his office is too small and you feel like there are invisible hands squeezing your throat. You shoot up and stumble away from the chair.

"Where are you going?"

"I did what I set out to do. You would have found out even if I didn't tell you."

You wrap your arms around yourself. The December chill isn't apparent from the warmth of his office, but his grey glare is just as biting. Kisaki stands up and makes confident strides to where you're backing up.

"So I ask again, where are you going?"

"Answer my question first."

"I've been chasing after someone, for over a decade at this point. She's always escaped my grasp, no matter what I do. You won't."

"What the fuck? So I'm just a way to pass the time?"

"Isn't that what I am to you?" He gives you that sardonic grin that never fails to make your blood boil.

"Then why? If we don't mean anything to each other, why go so far?"

Your back hits the door and there's no further to go. Kisaki stands in front of you placing his hands on your shoulders and a light kiss on your forehead.

"Let's go to the see that new exhibit at the museum you mentioned last week. They don't need me here for the rest of the day."

His placating tone tells you that he's never going to answer your question.

MASTERLIST DIRECTORY

AO3

#:(#and hanma #my toxic trait is id take him back

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