#just screaming because of how distressed i felt in the moment over that. I felt like i wasnt understood

[platinum-horizons]

4

edit: 4 was NOT supposed to be there i dont know how it happened

Like I know we all love making ADHD seem cool but like, don't forget it's actually a disability? My ADHD is bad enough I've nearly been evicted for forgetting to mail the rent check to the property manager, I've forgotten to pay the utility bills and had my water or power get turned off or had to pay fines bcs I missed a credit card payment. Once I was supposed to cat sit for a friend and I lost the house key she gave me but didn't realize until she was already out of town, and she had to call the apartment office to get someone to give me the spare so her cats would have food for the week. When I'm unmedicated I can't even get myself to shower half the time, forget eating or cleaning. Before I started living with my fiance I'd just like, not eat for days because I didn't have anyone to remind me to eat or go buy me food. I've forgotten to turn the stove off so many times and ruined kettles and tbh been DAMN fucking lucky the house didn't burn down. I've done stupid, impulsive shit that's nearly gotten me KILLED. I can't remember to close the shower curtain reliably even through my fiance points out every single time I forget, and he's almost out of soap rn bcs for the last MONTH neither of us have been able to remember to order more once we get out of the shower.

I've had such bad memory my entire life that to this day someone suggesting I forgot something because I simply didn't care enough is a legitimate trigger that, in the worst cases, makes me have a breakdown.

I get that for some of you this is just something that makes studying hard or you forget to take a pee break when you're playing Minecraft or whatever, that's still a valid struggle and you do deserve help and understanding, but like, ADHD is a disability. It's disabling. It's not impossible to improve and learn coping skills, meds help a lot, there are great accommodations out there(LIKE CLEANING SERVICES), but not every case of ADHD is the same, and a lot of them are pretty ugly ngl, and just because you managed to do something doesn't mean someone else is gonna be able to manage it too, or that they're being lazy for struggling. And that obviously doesn't mean ADHD people have a free pass to never work on themselves and make everyone cater to their every need or whatever, but we do deserve some understanding when we explain that our disability is actually disabling in ways that aren't palatable to you. So like, idk, maybe don't immediately recoil in horror when you find out that someone with ADHD can't keep their house clean. And for fucks sake don't ridicule them for it.

[kittyfrisk9]

IdeaDpxDc: A nice moment with a sleep demon.

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Dead On Main.

---

Danny accidentally absorbed some of Nocturn's powers (like in the Vortex episode), and now, with these new temporary abilities, why not take advantage of them? Like a kid with a new toy, Danny (or should I say Phantom: with a new design) has fun every night going from dream to dream.

The dream world is so strange! Without the constant threat of a dream entity trying to take over the world and all that. Now he has fun exploring the most unusual parts of his classmates' subconscious, or anyone's in general.

Even though he knows he shouldn't be doing this (after all, he's a responsible adult now), spying on other people's dreams isn't exactly something a mature person would do.

On the other hand, Danny is the responsible adult; Phantom is the one who uses his new powers recklessly. Plus, no one in Gotham knows who Phantom is, and at the end of the day, he's not hurting anyone. Point in his favor!

It was all fun and games… until he felt it: the unpleasant taste of a nightmare, distressing and desperate. Phantom knows he has to intervene, because, unlike Nocturn, he does not delight in the suffering of others.

So he goes. And what he sees shocks him.

Resonant laughter of a psychopath, the constant pain of flesh being beaten, and the devastating reminder that no one came to help. Phantom doesn't just see it, he feels it. Gross. What is this? Why would anyone be hurting a child? Then he understands: this is not just a nightmare, it's a memory, and someone is suffering from reliving it.

He absolutely will not allow this nightmare to continue.

...

Jason hasn't been having good days lately, mostly because instead of going to therapy, he's chosen to sweep his trauma under the rug and aggressively throw himself into crime-fighting. He's not good at dealing with his emotions, especially when he's been tormented by the same damn nightmare over and over again.

He knows the script by heart, he knows how it will end, but he still feels the same fear as the first time.

His head hurts.

"No, not again," he thinks in terror. Once again, he's tied up, unable to move or call for help. It's colder than he remembers. The walls have a grotesque tint, with laughter written in every corner. But the worst thing is the silence… until the sound of clashing metal begins to resonate.

Everything is a thousand times worse. He's sure the original scenario wasn't like this, but his terrified mind refuses to accept it.

The metallic sound resonates louder, each crash rumbling in Jason's chest. His breathing quickens, and then he hears it: that laugh.

A deep, distorted echo of laughter that seems to come from every direction. The laughter snakes around the grotesque walls, filled with the same letters that repeat his agony. “Ha… ha… ha…” fills the air, louder with each invisible step that approaches.

Then, he appears.

It’s not the Joker he remembers from that fateful night. This one is worse. Bigger, more deformed, with a smile that seems to tear at his own face. The colors of his suit are darker, more twisted. It’s as if his mind has amplified him, made him more monstrous.

“My, my, how little Robin has grown? But… something remains the same, doesn’t it? No matter how many times you live it, it always ends the same way. And to think that you were my greatest work of art!”

His voice is mocking, but behind the mockery is pure cruelty, a wicked amusement that lights up in those crazy eyes.

The Joker leans towards Jason, his face invading the small distance between them. The sound of metal continues to echo, and Jason knows what's coming next.

"Oh, I almost forgot…" he says, pulling out of nowhere an iron crowbar that gleams in the dim light of the nightmare. "It wouldn't be a good memory without this, would it?"

That's when the pain begins. Jason doesn't want to scream, and he won't. Even though that abominable creature is just a representation of his killer, he won't give him the luxury of listening to him suffer. The blows continue, and Jason bites his tongue. It's just a nightmare, it's not real… it's not real.

It's not real.

It's not real.

It's not-

"Hey… Are you okay?" he hears him ask. His shocked gaze turns to where the clown should be and discovers that he's gone. In his place, there's a handsome young man: short, slightly messy black hair, expressive purple eyes, and a body almost completely shrouded in dark shadows.

The mysterious man had a cosmic air about him, surrounded by a mix of special effects of stars and galaxies. Something magical.

And new.

Jason honestly doesn't know what he's seeing, or why he's seeing it. "What?" he says, unable to find another word to describe his situation.

The entity laughs at his stunned state, a reassuring echo very different from the joker's laughter. Then he snaps his fingers, and suddenly he's no longer in that ugly room. He's now in a field of flowers, beautiful and vibrant, looking out at a starry sky.

Okay, this is the part where he asks his brain how he went from being in a nightmare to being with a handsome guy under the stars, hands free and untethered.

"Relax, you're not crazy," the being says as he lies back in the grass. “You were in pain, and I didn’t like it, so I got you out of there. Don’t worry, that abomination won’t bother you again.”

Jason blinks twice, bewildered, not understanding anything. “You… saved me?”

“You could say yes.”

“Why?” He shakes his head. “No, wait, that’s not the question. Who…?” Looking back at the being, he decides to change his question: “What are you?”

He seems to have taken the being by surprise.

It clasps its hands together as it looks up at the sky, trying to act normal. Jason narrows his eyes. “You can call me Void.”

“Did you just make up that name?”

The being looks away, seemingly embarrassed at being found out. “Yeah…” And suddenly exclaims, “Ah, ancients! I'm not supposed to be doing this, much less with one of the bats."

That last sentence had given away more than it should have.

"Hey, how about we admire the night view and then pretend this never happened?" Void suggested with a hopeful smile, turning to Jason.

Maybe it was the soft scent of the flowers, the calm atmosphere, or just the tiredness after so many nights of endless nightmares, but Jason, without thinking too much about it, walked over, lay down next to Void on the grass, and said, "No."

He needed a break.

...

And that's how Jason befriended a dream demon. And how Danny pretended to be a dream demon until Nocturn's powers wore off. He couldn't let the bats find out his identity.

After that, they spent more time together, fell in love, there was drama and there was closure. In the middle of all that, Danny started having tea with Alfred in the dream world, and at other times, he had fun bothering the other bats in their dreams.

But that's another story.

---

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Part 2

[avelera]

Man, there’s all these little beats in OFMD S2 1-3 where people keep EXPECTING Stede to be upset or horrified about Ed’s actions and then he’s just. Not. In a way that reminded me of how a lot of fanon kept softening Stede into someone who doesn’t swear and is horrified at Ed for setting those ships on fire when imo to my eyes he was horrified for Ed because Ed was still so clearly distressed about it.

- Zheng Yi Sao asks Stede how he’s doing now that he knows Ed did horrible things to his crew and there’s this beat and Stede just pivots to, oh yeah, sometimes Ed is troubled. Like it didn’t occur to him to be upset on the crew’s behalf he’s worried about Ed.

- Izzy keeps trying to spare Stede’s feelings and cover up Ed’s spiral, but Stede clocked what was going on with Ed immediately and wasn’t the least bit intimidated or bothered. The knives brought the room together. Of course Ed’s trying to burn the world down or die trying. Duh. And I genuinely don’t think the STUFF in the Revenge mattered even a fraction to Stede as much as the signs of Ed’s breakdown broke his heart. It’s just STUFF, who cares.

- Lucius had to SPECIFICALLY call out Stede for not being surprised or bothered by what happened to him. What Ed did. Stede has to almost consciously remind himself to express polite concern. He just doesn’t actually care, instinctively or automatically, about what happened to Lucius. Part of it is he blames himself more than Ed. Part of it is he just doesn’t care, Ed is the priority.

They’re little blink and you’ll miss it pauses in some cases. Micro-expressions. The absence of a reaction. But honestly, I will scream it to the end of time, Stede is not some nonviolent creampuff scared or upset by Ed’s evil ways. He wants to join Ed in the atrocities. The man ran away to become a pirate. He asked if Lucius was taking notes during a murderous raid.

Stede’s at least a little on some kind of whackadoodle pirate comedy neurodivergence spectrum to the point where he actually really actually struggles to empathize with people, even people he cares about!, if their feelings conflict with his hyperfixation (piracy) and the love of his life (Ed Teach). He’s always, ALWAYS going to pick Ed over Lucius or Izzy or his crew or even his own feelings, if the option is there. He will literally throw himself overboard to get to Ed’s side. No pause. No consideration of anyone else or even his own safety.

Stede sometimes seems to have to consciously remind himself things like, oh yeah, the crew, I need to see to them. Not because he’s heartless or doesn’t care, but because it takes a bit of conscious effort for him to see beyond the laser-focused spotlight of what and who he does care most about, he has to remind himself of social niceties and other people’s feelings (just see him running away in the first place!) when he gets an idea in his head. It’s as if he had to train himself to consciously care about some things other people care about and as a neurodivergent person myself, that felt very familiar in a comedically writ large sort of way. I’d even argue that’s where all his aristocratic social niceties come from. They were his guidebook for how to do things “right” in a world that otherwise made no sense to him outside his hyperfixations. He practiced being a person through the aristocratic training because it was all so foreign to him from the start, including caring, actually caring, about the needs of others. Not because he’s consciously evil or consciously a jerk. The instinct just isn’t there unless he practices at it until it becomes reflex to ask how others are doing, because on his own his brain just doesn’t really notice or care.

I just… hope the fandom notes and has as much FUN as I do noticing all the little moments where even people inside the story of OFMD expect Stede to act in a normal way and instead he remains unhinged, laser-focused on Ed.

Stede’s not just an Ed apologist, he truly doesn’t blame Ed for any of it. He blames only himself. He doesn’t always voice this but he really really only cares about anyone else including the crew as a DISTANT second and he has to consciously REMIND himself to do so. He is able to rally to take action, to care about their physical needs like safety during the rescue, but he still struggles, deeply struggles, to remember to show empathy in a non-performative way for anyone except his special person, Ed.

Stede’s not a creampuff, not a nice guy, not some emotionally or morally perfect angel. He has to consciously practice caring about literally anything else but what he wants to do and his special person. And to me that’s a thousand times more interesting than shoving him in a box labeled “the blond, pacifist do-gooder good guy” in their relationship.

[themultifanshipper]

The crash was horrible. You scared yourself and everyone else when your car hit the wall with a sickening crunch. But the person you scared the most was Sebastian.

Warnings: Smut, oral, squirting, plot is similar to my other Seb fic (it was based on the same prompt) but this one is more angsty and fluffy and the vibes are completely opposite lmao, but the smut is also disgusting, barely edited tbh

His car had minimal damage, so he was just going to carry on, but the glare of flames in his mirrors was enough for him to panic and stop the car to go and help get you out of the flaming wreck, despite Christian shouting at him to continue over the radio. He just couldn’t leave you, never mind what he portrayed to the cameras, you meant too much to him and he would never have forgiven himself if he’d been that selfish.

But by the time he got there you were already out of the car, being helped across the gravel by a marshal. As he approached, you threw your helmet at him and screamed.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING? PULLING A MOVE LIKE THAT YOU COULD HAVE GOT US KILLED! DO YOU THINK YOU'RE MICHAEL SCHUMACHER OR SOMETHING YOU B-"

You jumped on each other at the same time, scratching and punching at each other like children, and the marshal was forced to call for reinforcements to get you separated.

Later, during post-race interviews (you'd both been banned from the press conference) you were asked what happened and you got incredibly wound up again just talking about how careless and dangerous Seb’s move was.

Your press officer moved you off quickly to avoid any further incidents, but unfortunately for her Seb arrived at that moment, and you noticed that he looked rather pale, but that didn’t stop him from going straight to the interviewer you were just talking to.

“So, Seb, tell me about the incident, and what do you think of your rivalry with, uhh-” She glanced over to where you were standing only a few feet away, waiting.

Seb looked at you before answering. “She’s a promising talent, and no doubt she is beautiful, but she shouldn’t be in formula one.”

Before you could jump on him and cause another scene, you were dragged away to your post-race debrief before being sent back to the hotel.

Unbelievable! You crashed because of him, ruining both your races. And he had the audacity to say you didn’t belong in formula one? What a fucking joke! To say he was out of line would be an understatement, but of course, if you complained you would just be labelled as emotional, or immature, or god forbid, on your period. That’s one you had gotten once during an interview and the man swiftly ended up with a broken nose, which of course didn’t help your image, but it felt good none the less. What didn’t feel good was how little Seb had seemed to care about what happened. He could have killed you, he could have killed himself.

Hours later, you were still seething with rage when you heard a knock at the door.

The last person you expected to see when you opened it was Seb.

“I have nothing to say to you” You tried to slam the door in his face but he blocked it with his foot, making him wince.

“I know, but I just want you to know that I wasn’t playing for the cameras when I ran to get you on the track, I was worried I had caused you-“

“Oh give me a break! You crashed and saw an opportunity to look like the bigger person and come recue the damsel in distress but guess what? I didn’t NEED you Seb!”

“No, I didn’t crash! Christian told me to keep going but I stopped the car for you!”

You frowned at him, gears turning in your mind. “You stopped the car? Why the hell would you do that?”

He sighed frustratedly “Because I panicked! I saw fire and I was worried about you!”

“Oooh you were worried about me!” You parroted in the meanest tone you could muster, ignoring the beating of your heart at his words “You were worried about me because I don’t belong in this tough manly sport of yours is that it?”

He paused at your words, seemingly hurt at the implications behind them.

“You shouldn’t be in formula one, I stand by that. But not because you’re a woman, or a bad driver. It’s because I don’t want you in formula one. I don’t want you to be in that kind of danger, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you on my watch!”

Tears prickled your eyes as you took a step back from him. “So I should just give it all up huh? I should give up my dream just because you’re scared of hurting me?  What the fuck is wrong with you? I chose this! I chose motorsports for the adrenaline! The competition! The passion! What I didn’t sign up for was you crashing into me every chance you get because you can’t handle being beaten by a girl!”

Tears were properly streaming down your face by now, and you went to push Seb out of your room, but he caught your arms and pinned you against the door instead.

“Let me go Seb! Get out!”

No! You’re misunderstanding me and I’m not leaving until I’ve said what I came to say! I care about you because despite you being a constant bitch around me, I’ve seen your real personality! And as much as you hate me, I just can’t bring myself to hate you! I didn’t want to save you to look like a hero, I wanted to save you because the thought of losing you was just-” he got choked up and you could see tears forming in his eyes as they stared intently into yours. “It… I-”  He took a deep breath “It would have been too painful.”

You gulped. “Seb, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I love you, and I’ve loved you since-“

You surged forward and kissed him.

He reciprocated quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you in closer.

You honestly couldn’t say how long the two of you made out in the dark corner of your room for, but after a while you both ran out of oxygen and had to separate, breathing hard. His hands slid down to your thighs, picking you up easily and carrying you swiftly to the bed.

It became a competition to see who could get their clothes off faster, and you laughed at each other as you struggled to get your race suits off.

Once you were both naked, he climbed over you and started the long expedition over your curves and dips, kissing and marking every expanse of skin he came across. You writhed and squirmed at the attention, needing him to just get on with it. When he finally got up to your mouth, he was hard and you could feel his dick poking at your thigh.

“Please Seb, I need you to fuck me now” you whined, wrapping your legs around his waist to get him closer, but he refused, instead sitting backwards and kneeling between your legs to get a look at you.

“Calm down Schatz, I need to prepare you first, I don’t want to hurt you” he said soothingly, running his hands up and down your thighs before stopping just shy of your folds, using his thumbs to spread you open for him.

“God you are so wet for me” he groaned and dipped a thumb inside before bringing it to his mouth, sucking your juices off and groaning even louder. “And you taste so good, baby, fuck!”

He dipped a finger in gently, then two and pumped them a few times, making you mewl, before pulling them out and sucking them clean.

“I’m obsessed” he panted “I’m sorry baby, I need to taste more.” And with that he dove down and devoured you like a man starved, running his tongue over your lips and clit with gusto. His fingers soon joined and he hit that spot immediately, over and over. You quickly felt an orgasm building in your loins as your thighs tightened around his head and you fingers tugged on his hair.

“Seb, I’m so close baby!”

“I know” he growled and doubled down on his efforts, making you writhe in pleasure as the pressure building in your stomach became too much as he assaulted your clit with his talented mouth.

Your orgasm hit you so hard you couldn’t even get a breath in to make any noise as you came all over his face and chest.

He sat up over you and you saw that his hair was drenched, plastered to his forehead as drops of your cum slid down his nose and landed on your body.

He was grinning like a maniac, ecstatic at having made you come so hard you squirted on him.

“That’s never happened before!” you panted but he just smashed his lips to yours and grabbed your face, spreading wetness all over you both as his chest lay over yours.

It was disgusting.

But so, so incredibly hot.

“Fuck me now, please Seb?”

“Okay Schatz, your wish is my command” and with no further ado, he rubbed his tip through your folds a few times before sinking into you all the way to the hilt.

He was so thick it was hard to breathe as the stretch knocked the breath from your lungs, and you clung on to him for dear life.

It didn’t take either of you long to come, and you did so almost simultaneously, foreheads touching, breathing in each other’s air, wrapped around each other as tight as possible.

You being incapable of walking just yet, he carried you to the shower and helped you wash, giggling as the sensation of his hands scrubbing over your skin made you ticklish.

It’s only when you got out of the shower and looked in the mirror that you noticed the marks he had left from his earlier ministrations. Small bruises littered your legs, hips, stomach, chest and neck.

“Dammit Sebastian! It’s summer and you’ve turned me into a dalmatian!” You shrieked, but he just laughed and smacked your ass on his way back to the bedroom.

“I’m serious! I can’t go out in public like this!”

He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your shoulder. “Now everyone can stop flirting with you”

You tuned around in his arms “Awww, is my Sebby jealous?” You cooed.

He huffed “I am not jealous, but I am yours” he smiled, leaning down and kissing you.

He finally had you after years of loving you, and he was going to savour every second of it.

Of course the first person you saw the next morning was Jenson freaking Button.

He took one look at you, in shorts and a tank top, dozens of hickeys on display, then at Seb who had just appeared behind you in the lobby, connected the dots immediately and shrieked in laughter, attracting the attention of the few other drivers who had come down early for breakfast.

You were never living this down.

[jessybarnes]

Teach Me

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean x Reader / Eventual Cas x Reader / No Destiel

Rating: 18+ Only!!

Tags: Voyeurism, Smut, Fingering (Female Receiving), Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Squirting, Finger Sucking, Masturbation, Unprotected Sex, Use of Grace, A little bit of a Threesome (NO DESTIEL in this one), Some Fluff at the end, and I think that’s it.

Word Count: 2,966

Beta: @winecatsandpizza

A/N: This is a repost from my old Tumblr blog, I hope you enjoy it!

Reblog Divider by: @cafekitsune

Dean couldn’t keep Y/N quiet. Her pleasure-filled screams echoed through the halls of the bunker as he flicked his tongue rapidly over her clit, two of his skilled fingers curling inside her searching out her sweet spot. He was just glad that they were alone and didn’t have any close neighbors because he was sure the cops would have been called by now. Edging was one of his favorite things to do to her. Dean loved seeing her beg. He always thought she begged pretty.

“Oh God, please… Dean, please! Need to cum…”

Dean knew she was close. The way her needy moans became pants as her walls started to tighten around his thick digits, it was his key to stop. He pulled out of her, chuckling at her low whimper. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Sweetheart, I didn’t give you permission yet. You gotta be a good girl. Only good girls get what they want. Think you can do that for me?”

Y/N’s chest was heaving, and she swore the moment anything touched her throbbing clit she’d explode, but Dean always knew what she needed. Especially when she was in a submissive state like this. She felt Dean’s calloused hands slide slowly up her sides, goosebumps rising in their wake. His lips sucked at the pulse point just below her ear sending a shiver down her spine. 

“D-Dean…” 

His lips ghosted along the skin of her throat ever so lightly. It was getting hard for him to hold back himself, so he could only imagine how she was feeling. His fingers found her slick folds once again, her walls fluttering around nothing before he slid one into her. The action wasn’t anything near what she needed, but it was better than him not touching her at all. 

Y/N began to raise her hips to meet the lazy thrust of his finger. All she needed was a little bit more, just a little more, and she’d be soaring into pure bliss. Dean’s sound of disapproval brought her back to reality, and she almost sobbed when he pulled out of her. 

“Ah, Ah, Ah. Didn’t say you could move, darlin’.”

“Fuck, please… please Dean. I-I need it.”

Just as Dean was about to give in and grant the release they both needed, a flutter of wings sounded in the corner of the room. Y/N scrambled up the bed, covering herself with the sheet just as Dean threw his black t-shirt on and grabbed his pistol off the nightstand. 

“Y/N? Is everything alright? I heard you calling for De-”

The familiar figure of Castiel stood clad in his usual attire looking halfway between confused and embarrassed as he took in the scene before him. His head tilted slightly before he spoke again, his attention fixed on Dean curiously. 

“Dean, was it you that was causing Y/N to cry out in distress?”

Y/N watched as Dean put his hands on his hips, rolling his eyes. 

“Dammit, Cas … Y/N wasn’t distressed. She was enjoyin’ herself.”

Cas’ eyes narrowed to thin slits finally realizing that they were completely naked save for Dean’s tee. He walked forward slightly, picking up Dean’s boxers for a moment before dropping them back onto the pile of clothes on the floor. 

“Oh, I understand now Dean. This is how humans participate in the act of intercourse. My apologies for interrupting.”

Y/N watched as Cas awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the other before looking at Dean expectantly. 

“Cas? You okay, buddy? I was kinda hoping to get back to uh … well, ya know …”

Cas’ blue eyes wandered over their bare skin slowly, and Y/N didn’t miss the hint of redness that tinted his cheeks.

“Dean? I would very much like to learn how to make Y/N enjoy herself as you did. Can you teach me?”

Y/N’s gaze darted to Dean’s as he looked at her, the silent question was understood and she nodded slightly. A moment later, Dean stood from his spot at the foot of the bed and walked slowly towards his angel friend. Cas looked at him curiously as the fabric of his signature blue tie slid through the hunter’s thumb and index finger. 

“Well, first things first Cas, you’re wearing too many clothes.”

He looked crestfallen at Dean, grasping the lapel of his trench coat lovingly. 

“I like my clothing Dean. I don’t see why it would matter if I took all of it off or not.”

Y/N held back a laugh, shaking her head as Dean scrubbed a hand across his face. 

“Cas, buddy, you gotta be naked. It’s uhh … it’s easier to …” 

He sighed heavily, the annoyance thick in his tone.

“Trust me on this, Cas. Okay? It’ll make Y/N happy.”

Moments later, the ever-so-powerful angel of the Lord stood there in nothing but his white boxers. Y/N hadn’t realized just how muscular he was underneath all the layers of clothing he normally wore. His biceps were notably distinguished, his chest looked firm, and his deeply defined Adonis belt was deliciously inviting. 

“I still don’t see how my lack of clothing would make Y/N feel pleasure, Dean.”

Just as Dean let out another exasperated sigh, Y/N patted the bed welcomingly and scooted over. 

“C’mere Cas, let me show you what Dean’s talkin’ about.”

The angel stole a hesitant glance at Dean, watching him nod towards the bed. Cas swallowed thickly and made his way over to where Y/N laid invitingly. 

Cas watched as her delicate hand patted the thin fitted sheet. Her fingers sliding over the fabric made his pulse quicken. It wasn’t until Dean sat on the end of the bed that he came to his senses. 

“Go on, Cas. You have to feel how smooth her skin is. Y/N’s got the prettiest skin doesn’t she?” 

It’s true that Cas always admired how beautifully smooth it looked. He just didn’t think he would ever get this opportunity. Celestial beings weren’t supposed to participate in acts like this. Sexual desires rarely crossed his mind, mainly because it was wired into his genetic code to serve God. 

Ever so slowly he extended his hand, allowing it to come to rest on Y/N’s bare hip. Not only was her skin soft, but this simple touch seemed to electrify his body. The celestial energy within him made everything more heightened. An instinct he never thought he would’ve possessed took over. 

Y/N returned the gesture by stroking her fingertips along the side of his cheek. She watched as Cas closed his eyes, the initial contact making him shiver. He’d never been touched so intimately before. The sensations from it alone caused his breath to hitch, and she hadn’t even got him completely naked yet. He hadn’t even noticed Dean move to the chair in the corner until his gruff voice broke the silence in the room, egging him on. 

“Yeah, buddy that’s it. Kiss her next. See if you can find the spot on her neck that drives her absolutely wild.”

Y/ N’s gaze flitted from the angel’s slightly parted lips to his cerulean eyes. It made desire begin to pool in her abdomen seeing him like this. She’d always had feelings for Cas, but it never seemed possible that she would be able to explore those desires. His mouth descended onto her neck, kissing and sucking at her soft skin. 

Y/N’s back arched into his toned chest at its own accord, his lips continuing their journey south. His ocean-colored eyes looked up through his thick lashes at her reaction to his kisses. It never occurred to him how such a small gesture could have such an effect on someone. He wanted more, needed to see Y/N come completely apart for him. 

Cas marveled at her beautiful figure laid out before him. Beads of sweat collected in the valley between her breasts, her chest rising and falling as she looked down at him with want. He gracefully kissed his way back up to her bowtie lips, capturing them in a passionate caress. His tongue danced with hers expertly, the thickening of his cock evident against her upper thigh. 

The moment his lips left hers a needy whine fell from her lips. Y/N looked over at Dean and felt her walls clench again. Seeing him fully naked again with his cock in his hand, hard and leaking, drove her absolutely wild. Her body began to shake again, her hands fisting the sheets. 

“P-Please… I… I can’t… I need…”

Dean chuckled as Cas looked over at him with slight confusion etched in his features. He bit his lip, nodding at the angel to keep going as he slowly increased the speed of his hand on his cock. 

“Dean, did I do something wrong? Y/N seems to be in distress again.”

A low moan fell from the elder Winchester’s lips. It was getting harder to focus on being a teacher when he was getting the hottest live show he’d ever seen. Eventually, he shook his head and tried desperately to form a coherent sentence. 

“Nah buddy, I bet her pussy’s soaked. Just look at the way she’s breathin’. You see the way her eyes roll back in her head just from your hands and mouth touching her? That’s just the tip of the iceberg, Cas. You really wanna hear Y/N lose it, then you gotta find her sweet spot.”

Dean stood up and joined his angelic friend on the bed, carefully spreading Y/N’s legs. He showed Cas his middle and ring fingers for a moment before dipping them into the slick folds of her sex. Cas didn’t miss how her back arched off the bed or the way she whimpered. Dean didn’t keep them inside her long though. This wasn’t his show anymore, but he wasn’t upset. If he was honest with himself, teaching turned him on more than he thought it would.

“You see that? Now you try…”

Cas slid his left hand up Y/N’s thigh, his fingertips ghosting over the goosebumps on her skin. He didn’t miss how she sucked in a breath the moment his fingers grazed her folds. Dean was right, she was very wet. Ever so slowly, he began to smooth them up and down, his cock throbbing in his boxers every time a new plea fell from her mouth. 

“Is this her sweet spot, Dean?” 

His hand never faltered as his blue eyes met Dean’s lust-blown ones. The hunter shook his head and bit his lip, his voice thick with arousal as he spoke. 

“Not quite, Cas. I’ll help you find it though. Those two fingers you’re touchin’ her with? Push them inside her. Then, I want you to curl them upwards.”

Cas did as he was told, and the moment he curled his fingers the prettiest moan he’d ever heard filled the room like a prayer.

“Oh, Cas!... M-More… please!”

Cas didn’t have to be told twice. Virgin or not, he could tell he’d found the spot that drove her crazy. He began to rub his fingers along the spot inside her, his other hand rubbing his own arousal through his boxers to gain some relief. Dean praised him, egging him on as he used his thumb to draw circles around her clit. 

“That’s it, Cas. Fuck... keep moving your hand like that, and she’ll cum in no time. You think we should let her? You wanna see her squirt? She taste’s like Heaven.”

Cas wasn’t sure what Dean meant by that, but he loved the way Y/N’s walls squeezed around his fingers. He continued to thrust his fingers in and out, a little faster each time. His eyes went wide as he watched Dean lowered his mouth towards where his hand was.

“I’m about to show you another spot, Cas. This one’s called her clit. Y/N’s about to become putty in our hands. Ready, buddy?” 

Cas nodded, licking his lips as Dean closed his mouth over Y/N. Almost instantaneously he felt her walls clamp around his fingers. He couldn’t believe he’d never experienced anything like this before. Why would his Father keep something this pleasurable hidden from his brothers and sisters for so long? A few seconds later, Cas felt something wet gush over his vessel’s hand. 

“Oh, fuck! C-Cas…. Dean I… I’m gonna… Right there!... OH, FUCK!!”

Dean sat back on his heels, his chin glistening with Y/N’s juices. A smirk formed on his lips before he gestured to where Cas’ hand was. 

“Good job, buddy. You know, for an angel you’re not too bad at this. Taste her, Cas. Then, I wanna see you fuck her.” 

Cas did as instructed and slowly removed his fingers from Y/N’s heat. He curiously observed the way they glistened with her wetness for a moment before sucking them between his lips. His eyes fluttered closed as he tasted her. Dean was right, she was delicious and he needed more. Before he could stop himself, he settled between her quivering legs. His instincts took over and soon he was devouring her like it was the only thing keeping him alive. 

“Sh-Shit! CAS!! Ohholyshityes… yes… YES!” So good… Oh, you’re so good! AH!” 

Dean’s jaw went slack as he watched the scene play out before him. His cock jerked in his hand, and he began to jerk himself faster. The coil of his arousal tightening with each passing moment he watched Cas work Y/N over. 

“Jesus, Cas… Look at you, making her a complete mess with your mouth. Fuck… yeah, make her sweet pussy cum again… C’mon, buddy… you can do it. Make her scream…”

His words gave him the fuel he needed. He closed his mouth over the same spot Dean had before and sucked. He could quickly tell that she was sensitive, so as if on queue he used his grace to hold Y/N in place while he moved his tongue in circles across her bundle of nerves. 

“Ca...Cas… Cas, OhmyG-... M’gonna… Fuck, I’m gonna… CAS!!!”

He released her clit and sat up next to where Dean was standing. His pupils fully engulfing the blue of his eyes. His cock was painfully hard in the confines of his boxers, so he took a moment to remove them. 

“Cas, I think she’s ready for you. God, I can’t wait to see you fuck her and watch her cum with you buried inside her.” 

Cas had never had something so filthy be spoken to him, but it unlocked something inside him. Something primal that needed to be sated, and it was something only Y/N could provide him. He positioned himself between her legs and pushed inside her, not stopping until his hips met hers. He heard her cry out and stopped, his eyes looking down into hers as he waited for her to adjust to him. 

“Please… please, Cas… fuck me…”

The moment the words left her lips, he gave in and began a punishing pace. Dean marveled at the way Y/N looked from this angle. He knew he wasn’t going to last like this. Seeing his best friend fuck the girl he loved senselessly would be his undoing.

He stood there fucking himself into his hand while the most obscene noises filled his ears. It all became too much, the sound of skin slapping against skin, the stream of Enochian coming from Castiel, and the sound of Y/N begging for him to cum sent him over the edge. Thick ropes of his release coated her chest and neck as he gripped the headboard for support. 

“Mmm, fuck Cas… Yeah, buddy… fuck her just like that… She feels amazing, doesn’t she? That tight pussy squeezing your cock like a vice. She’s close, I can tell.” 

He leaned down close to her ear and flicked his tongue over her earlobe. 

“You like when Cas fucks you, sweetheart? His cock feels good splitting you open… I can tell. You gonna cum for us? Gonna cum all over him?”

The moment Y/N’s walls fluttered around Cas he was a goner. With a guttural cry, he stilled inside her, his release filling her completely. 

For a few moments, no one said anything. It was all just heavy breathing and the occasional whimper from Y/N. Dean broke the silence and ran a hand through his sweat-slicked hair before slipping back into his boxers. 

“That was… wow… We gotta do that more often. He padded across the room to the door and gave the Cas and Y/N a lopsided smile. “I’m gonna go get cleaned up. You two should do the same and then we can talk about all this.”

He was gone seconds later, but before Y/N could move to get up herself, Cas shook his head.

“Allow me.”

With a quick snap of his fingers, they were both clean and back in their clothes. She smiled at him and threaded her fingers with his.

“That was amazing, Cas. I… I don’t know what we do from here, but I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”

Cas smiled and leaned down to kiss her temple.

“I may be somewhat ignorant of intimate feelings, but Dean seemed pleased with what we just did together.” 

The two made their way to the Bunker’s library completely sated. If you’d told Y/N a year ago that she’d be fucked into oblivion by an angel of the Lord while one of the most beautiful hunters that ever existed watched, she would have laughed. Now? Now, it was safe to say that anything can happen, and she couldn’t wait for Dean to give Cas another lesson.

[lvsjuno]

NATIONAL ANTHEM ━ CH. 02

Pairing — BF!Rafe x younger!kook!Fem reader

Navigation — Part 01 | Part 02

main masterlist ━ Spanish version

That night, you arrived at the party with Sarah and Topper, wearing that light white dress that swayed in the coastal night breeze, the one you had chosen thinking about Rafe.

The music thumped in the background, the sound of waves and laughter filling the beach, but the three of you were somewhat apart, a little removed from the commotion. The cool night air brushed against your faces, but you couldn’t help but notice the tense glint in Topper’s eyes, as if something was bothering him, though he tried to hide it.

Sarah, with her typically laidback attitude, seemed determined to get under Topper’s skin, climbing over the remnants left behind by Hurricane Agatha.

Their relationship was definitely strange, or at least you thought so. It was nothing like your relationship with Rafe, where adoration and small gestures of affection spoke louder than any argument. Sarah and Topper seemed to enjoy pushing each other to the limit, as if finding balance was a constant challenge. You, though amused by their constant clashes and Sarah’s relentless teasing of Topper, couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something underlying in their dynamic, something you couldn’t quite grasp.

You three had decided to get closer to the crowd, to have a good time, to enjoy ourselves, but everything went to hell when JJ showed up, pretty drunk, not a good sign at all.

“Hey!” JJ shouted, approaching with a cheerful tone, drunk from all the beer he had consumed. “Sarah! Sarah, can I offer you a delicious Milwaukee drink?”

“No, thanks,” she replied.

It was naive of her to think that would be the end of the interaction, because JJ apparently had other plans.

“What’s the matter? Not fancy enough for you?”

“No, we were just leaving—” Topper cut her off. “Hey, you know what? I’ll take it.”

“That’s fine, but I wasn’t offering it to you.” It was clear JJ had drunk too much and was being an idiot by messing around. “If you had said ‘please,’ maybe, but you didn’t.”

“Oh... please,” Topper said sarcastically. “There, happy now? Please.”

JJ ignored him. “Sarah, you can keep it and share it with that hot chick over there.”

Topper threw the drink in JJ’s face. “Neither of them wants it, you—” JJ grabbed Topper by the shirt and shoved him hard. you tried to step closer to see what was going on and, if possible, stop the fight.

“No, no, no, no!” John B pushed JJ back to avoid the fight but then changed his mind and shoved Topper whe he hears the kook yelling, “Stupid pogues!”

You, alarmed by how big the fight had escalated, decided to stay on the sidelines, but the tension was palpable. When everyone around began to form a large circle to watch the fight, you knew everything had gone to hell.

You could hear the chants of the crowd cheering on the fight, and in that moment, Topper kicked John B. The Pogue boy gathered his strength and knocked Topper into the water while he wasn’t looking, distracted by Sarah's scream.

You could feel every part of your body tense up at the sight of Topper hitting John B, but he quickly recovered, knocked Topper down, and used the blow to his advantage, throwing him into the shallow water.

"Come on, Topper! Let’s go!" John B threw a couple more punches before Topper took him down and started choking him.

You tried to run toward them to try to stop the stupid fight, only for someone to hold her back. "Let me go!"

"You don’t want to get in the middle of that, sweetheart, trust me," JJ replied.

"He's choking him, JJ!"

"Topper, stop! No!" Sarah kept screaming.

You couldn’t help but look around frantically, searching for help, for someone who understood the seriousness of the situation. You saw Kiara and Pope, who were just as distressed as Sarah and you, all desperately trying to figure out a solution.

Then you felt JJ’s arms release your body, not feeling his warm body against yours. You turn back to see him running off somewhere. Before leaving, he shouted, "Stay there!"

your first thought was that he was going to run and tackle Topper from behind to save his friend or something like that. But all your thoughts vanished when you saw him running with a gun in his hand. at that moment, when he ran close to your body, you could hear the click of the safety and could only imagine the worst.

"Yeah, you know what this is. Come on, let him go."

As soon as JJ pressed the gun against the back of Topper’s neck, the crowd began to scatter.

"JJ, stop! Put the gun down!" Sarah ordered.

"Did you say something, princess?" He didn’t back down, even after Topper released John B.

"Kie, can you check on your psycho friend, please?" Sarah shouted.

"How about you check on your psycho boyfriend first, bitch!" Kiara yelled back.

"Alright, everyone, listen up! Get off our side of the island!" JJ shouted, firing two shots into the air.

After the chaos of the fight, you decided to distance yourseld from the crowd. your breathing was fast, and the sound of the gunshots still echoed in your mind.

Damn, Rafe is not going to like this at all.

You pulled out the phone with trembling hands and checked your last conversation with Rafe.

Rafe☀️: I’ll pick you up later, wait for me.

His message was still there, along with a couple of emojis he’d added to soften his protective tone. But after what had just happened, You knew you couldn’t stay there waiting for him.

You were nervous and shaken by everything you had just experienced, Topper almost killing John B, JJ pulling a gun while drunk and firing into the air with the potential to hurt someone. you deeply regretted not listening to your boyfriend.

rafe is always right, why you just didn't you hear him, he'll be mad at you now

You dialed his number and pressed the phone to your ear, with your heart pounding. The call rang once, then twice. Finally, his familiar voice broke the silence.

"Princess, is everything okay?"

"Rafe…" tried to keep calm, but your voice trembled. "There was… a fight at the party."

A heavy silence fell between you and him, before he responded. His tone shifted from warm to cold, almost icy.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

you took a deep breath. It was best to be honest.

"I’m fine, but things got out of control. Topper almost killed someone, JJ pulled a gun…" your paused, trying to hold yourself together. "Rafe, it was insane."

you could hear his breathing on the other end, slow and controlled, but you knew he was holding back.

"I’m coming. Where are you?"

"I’m not at the beach anymore. I’m walking toward the main road."

"Stay there, don’t move."

The call ended before you could say anything else. you knew that when Rafe arrived, there would be questions. He’d want to know every detail, and more than anything, he’d be furious that you had been in the middle of something so dangerous and for not listening to him.

you wrapped your arms around your body, trying to calm down as you waited for him. It wasn’t long before you saw the headlights of the Jeep approaching. The vehicle stopped in front of you, and Rafe got out immediately, his face a mixture of worry and anger.

"Are you okay?" he asked, walking up to you carefully.

you just nodded, cauae before yoi could answer, he wrapped her in his arms. His grip was firm, almost possessive, as if he needed to make sure you were really there.

"I told you, yn. I told you I didn’t trust them, they’re all psychopaths."

"Rafe…" you began, but he pulled back slightly, his deep blue eyes searching yours.

"Did anyone touch you? Did anyone dare to…?"

"No, no. I'm fine, I swear. It was… it was crazy, but I'm okay."

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath as if trying to calm himself. When he looked at you again, his expression had softened, though the worry was still there.

"Let’s go home."

you nodded and let him guide you to the Jeep. You already knew the night wouldn’t end on the light, playful way you two had planned, but you couldn’t help feeling relieved to be with him.

You and Rafe arrived at his house in silence. The drive had been short, but for you, every minute felt like an eternity, filled with the tension still lingering in your body. Rafe had tried to calm you silently, his hand resting on your thigh as he drove focus. When you arrived to Tannyhill, Rafe quickly parked the Jeep and got out, moving with urgency as if making sure everything was okay. You just followed him, the weight of the night still heavy on your shoulders.

Once inside, Rafe shut the door firmly behind them and looked at you with an intensity that made you shiver. tried not to let it show, but your hands were still trembling.

"We need to talk about this," Rafe said, his voice low and controlled.

You nodded and sank onto the couch. were exhausted, mentally and physically, and needed a moment to process everything that had happened. Rafe sat beside you, staring at yours intently but not saying a word. You could feel the concern burning in his gaze.

"I'm so sorry, Rafey" finally talking, breaking the silence. trying to make sound your words sincere

Rafe sighed, running a hand over his face, clearly frustrated.

"I shouldn’t have let you go, yn" he said in a low tone. His eyes stayed on you, letting you see the internal struggle he was facing.

You leaned toward him, touching his arm gently in an attempt to reassure him.

"It’s not your fault, Rafe. I made the decision to go, and I regret it, truly. But I can’t change what happened."

Rafe looked at you for a long moment, his eyes softening as he saw the sincerity in your face. Slowly, he tilted his head down and kissed you tenderly. It was a gentle kiss, but it was filled with unspoken emotions, as if all you two needed at that moment was each other’s closeness. The intensity of the night began to fade in that simple gesture.

When they pulled away, Rafe looked at you again, this time with a faint but slightly sad smile.

you couldn't help but smile back, hugging him and feeling the safety of his arms around your tiny body, compared to his.

"I’m sorry. I promise I’ll never do anything to make you worry this much again."

The atmosphere in Rafe’s house became warmer, calmer, as the shadows of the night continued their course outside the windows. The tension of the party seemed to fade with each passing second, as if that small refuge between them could make the world forget what had happened.

you lifted your head in his shoulder softly, looking at him with a slight smile.

"I love you, Rafe."

"I love you too, but I’d love you even more if you listened to me sometimes."

You tilted your head, looking at him with a light smile, your breathing still uneven from the tension lingering in the air.

"So, what are we going to do now?" you asked in a playful tone. The look you give to him was shining with a hint of mischief, only he knew.

Rafe looked at you silently, a mischievous glint crossing his gaze. He leaned closer, his warm breath brushing against your face as he spoke in a whisper only you could hear.

"What would you like us to do?" he said, his voice low, almost like a challenge.

Before you could even answer, he pulled you firmly against him, his hand resting on your back, feeling his big hand touching you slowly, their lips meeting in a fiery, deep kiss, filled with the intention to feel all of each other. You couldn’t resist responding to the kiss, giving in to the intensity and the need of his touch, as though everything else around them faded away.

It was a kiss full of suppressed passion, as if they had both been waiting for this moment to release everything left unsaid, everything unresolved, and forget all the tensions caused by others.

When both pulled apart, your breathing was ragged, but Rafe didn’t let you go. He looked at you with a crooked smile, his eyes locked on yours, almost undressing your body with his gaze, a suggestive grin playing on his lips.

“You didn’t behave, baby… and you know I like that.”

another one! hope you like it :)

[devixncy]

hii!! could you please do a gi-hun fluff? maybe the reader is stressed and gi hun comforts them? honestly, i don't mind the details as long as it's sweet! thank you!! 🫶

yess!! gi-hun deserves sm love

✧ pairing: seong gi-hun x reader

✧ summary: the games are getting to you more than you thought. gi-hun tries to help you through it.

✧ warnings: mention of anxiety

✧ word count: 1.1k

To say you were terrified was an understatement. The fear of death lingered in the back of your mind at all times, taking over your thoughts at every opportunity. You didn’t want to die-not here, not like this. When you made the decision to join the games, you thought it would be easy money. Playing some games similar to ddakji that you played with the man from the subway couldn’t be that bad, right? Oh, how wrong you were. 

Although you had successfully made it through the first two games, thanks to Gi-hun and the rest of your group that had formed, you couldn’t help but have a constant, overwhelming sense of dread. As pessimistic as you were, you didn’t want to drag anyone else down with you. That’s why you were currently sitting alone on the cold, metal stairs, head in your hands. The red patch on your chest, showing that you voted to leave, didn’t make things any better. The fact that you were stuck here because more players wanted to stay than leave loomed over you as well. It stuck out, almost painting you as a target to anyone that had voted O. As much as you wanted–needed–the money that the games promised, your life just didn’t seem worth the risk. There were other ways to get money that didn’t involve a brutal death. 

It felt like you were drowning. The screams, the gunshots, all of it replayed in your mind and you couldn’t turn it off. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, ears starting to ring. You couldn’t shake off the anxiety, it threatened to swallow you whole. Nothing was even going on at that moment, all of the players just milling around until lights out, which made you feel incredibly weak. Pathetic even. A lump formed in the back of your throat, and it felt harder to breathe. The anxiety attack that was coming was inevitable at that point, and you tried to make yourself look as small as possible, alone in your corner. Clutching at your chest with one hand, you tried to control your breathing before it got out of control.  

While you were deep in your own head, out of the corner of your eye, you could see that someone had sat down next to you. Turning your head slightly, you saw that it was Gi-hun. Once he realized that you had noticed him, he gave you a smile that made your heart flutter. Yes, you thought he was attractive and you could tell he had an incredibly kind soul. While he may have come off cold at first (and he had his reasons), he quickly warmed up to your group, especially you. His goofy personality began to shine through around you, drawing you in. But what was the point in trying to get close to someone when they or yourself could be dead at any time?

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” He asked sincerely, clearly noticing your distress. Giving him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, you shook your head and exhaled slowly. 

“Nothing, just…thinking.” You answered quietly, not wanting to appear weak in front of him. Even though he more than likely knew exactly how you felt, having been in the games before. However, you knew he could see right through you.

Your leg shaking up and down and the subtle tremble of your hands didn’t go unnoticed by him. To your surprise, Gi-hun slowly knelt down in front of you, gently grabbing your hand that wasn’t locked onto the fabric of your shirt and grasping it in his. He placed his other hand on your knee, ever so softly running his thumb over the fabric of your pants in a soothing motion. 

“I promise you, (y/n), that I will do everything in my power to get you out of here. To get all of us out of here,” he nodded his head towards Jung-bae, Dae-hoe, Young-il, and Jun-hee, who were all deep in conversation in the distance. “I swear to you, we will leave here unharmed. I vowed to stop these games once and for all and I don’t plan on failing.”

Shaking your head, you closed your eyes, tears building behind them. “Please don’t make a promise like that. That you know you might not be able to keep.” You so badly wanted all of you to get out together. Especially your little group, they had become like family in such a short time, everyone looking out for each other. However, you knew it wasn’t a possibility that you all make it out alive. It was a devastating thought, one that threatened to pull you right back under.

Hands cupped either side of your face, wiping away tears that you weren’t aware were falling. Opening your eyes, Gi-hun was looking at you, smiling once he noticed you were looking at him. He had a determination and sincerity in his eyes that didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you knew he was hell bent on keeping that promise. He pulled you into his arms gently, and you quickly reciprocated, circling your arms around him and burying your head into his chest. Slowly, one of his hands rubbed up and down your back, making you melt into his arms. You hadn’t realized how badly you just needed some sort of comfort, anything to take away your fear even if just for a moment. Listening to Gi-hun’s heartbeat, yours slowly fell into rhythm with his, your tremors subsiding. You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed like that, but eventually, he pulled back slightly. His hands grabbed onto your shoulders, looking into your eyes.

“I will stay awake all night tonight if it means keeping you safe,” he said sincerely. Oh, right. You had forgotten what he had said, about what happened last time he played. Players coming after one another, picking off the weaker ones after lights out. A surge of panic went through you, and he noticed, rubbing your shoulders. “I mean it. No one will touch you.” 

Standing up slowly, he grabbed both of your hands, pulling you up with him. He slung his arm around your shoulders, giving you a light squeeze. “Now come on, we’ve gotta go build up some kind of defense so that I can better protect you, right?” 

That got a smile out of you and Gi-hun grinned, leading you down the stairs and over towards your group. 

Once your barrier had eventually been assembled and everyone else was calling it a night, yourself and Gi-hun decided to take the first watch. You sat side by side, your leg pressed against his, the simplicity of the touch keeping you grounded. Your eyes wandered around the room, thankfully not seeing much of anything going on. Subconsciously, you leaned into Gi-hun, resting your head on his shoulder. He looked down, smiling and wrapping his arm around you. Your body completely relaxed and for the first time since you woke up here, you felt safe. 

You knew he would keep his promise, and now you were just as determined as he was to make it out alive.

[mypoisonedvine]

can I request a dark!(any of cillian murphy’s characters) who’s basically this spoiled entitled rich guy and he meets a waitress who puts him in his place for disrespecting her? so he decides to teach her a lesson

THE WAY THIS IS PERFECT FOR DARK!ROBERT FISCHER??? OH MY GOD??

warnings: DARK NONCON SMUT!! 18+ only, misogyny and classism, pretty extreme degradation, semi-public sex, hair pulling

You weren't sure why that one interaction stuck in your head, it wasn't like you hadn't dealt with rude customers before: they're plentiful in a fancy place like this, only people wealthy enough to be used to getting whatever they wanted could afford to eat here.

Maybe it was just because you'd already noticed him from the first moment you came to the table, and not just because he looked a little out of place surrounded by the other businessmen... you thought he was gorgeous, obviously. Which made it even more disappointing when he was a huge tool, correcting your pronunciation of some of the menu items and then trying to summon you to the table with a few impatient snaps of his fingers. Not to mention calling you 'sweetheart' instead of your name-- classic sexist bullshit.

Or maybe you remembered him because of the rage when you stood up to him-- just for a second, you saw it in his eyes, before he let out a nervous and condescending laugh to try to break the tension. But even just that flash of anger in his stare made you regret speaking up. Normally, you didn't take shit from anyone and you didn't apologize for the feelings you hurt along the way... but that, his look right then, was everything people had been warning you about. It's one thing to stand up to someone, it's another to antagonize them.

It was enough to make you feel a little nervous when your shift ended that night. You'd watched the flock of stuffy suits leave after their meal, obviously not giving you a tip because of course they wouldn't, and yet you had this lingering feeling like you were being watched-- like you hadn't seen the last of that infuriated glare.

But, feeling like you were definitely overreacting, you resisted the urge to ask your manager to walk you to your car. It was late, of course, and you shivered a bit as the chilly night air made your thin cardigan feel pretty much useless.

Just as you unlocked your car, opening the backseat door to toss in your bag, you felt a hand cover your mouth as someone grabbed you. Your instinctive scream was muffled as you heard a harsh 'shh' by your ear, a heavy form pressing into yours.

You were pushed into the car, tossed roughly down over the backseats as the man's weight kept you pinned down, and you tried to struggle but found yourself quickly incapacitated by his strength.

"How fucking dare you," he spat right against your ear; and you recognized the voice, of course you did, it was burned into your mind already. "You rude little bitch..."

"Get off me," you growled, "you fucking asshole!"

"No, no," he purred, pinning your arms down when you tried to push him back, "not until you've learned your lesson. The way you spoke to me at dinner, I just can't let you get away with that."

"I-I'm sorry, okay?" you breathed, distressed by how easily he held your arms in place by his tight grip on your wrists; you felt him smile against your ear, a dark little chuckle making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. "I'm sorry-- I wasn't trying to be rude."

"Yes, you were, sweetheart," he disagreed, throwing the condescending name right at you again. "You were trying to, what, emasculate me? How's that working out for you?"

Honestly, you had been-- you always figured customers like that had it coming, and you'd relished in the chance to make him look like an idiot in front of presumably some very important people. "I'm sorry," you said again. "I was wrong. Please... please just get out and we can forget this ever happened."

You shuddered when his hand moved down to your skirt, rubbing your leg with a hum and slowly pushing up the fabric. "You were hoping for a big tip tonight, weren't you?" he chuckled. "I think I can still give you one."

"P-please," you choked out again, "Mr. Fischer, right? I'm sorry... just please don't--"

He covered your mouth again, grinning at you as he pulled the skirt up roughly and yanked your panties down, giving your ass a hard smack as you yelped behind the strong grip of his fingers. "Don't worry," he offered as he started to hastily open his fly with one hand, "I'm just going to remind you of your place. A whore like you will probably like it."

You shut your eyes tight, hearing him grunt as he adjusted himself to be right at your opening, teasing your hole with his head for just a moment before suddenly and forcefully shoving in. You screamed behind his hand, dropping your head defeatedly, and he groaned happily as he started to fuck you.

"That's it," he praised darkly, "just take it, honey."

Shuddering, you went limp under him, out of other options; you winced as his cock forced its way deep inside you, so deep that your back tried to arch up to avoid some of the intense pressure.

"Shh," he soothed, putting a hand on your back to keep it down, "that's better-- fuck, you little slut..."

He was speeding up already, and you still hadn't adjusted to his size. Clearly his shitty attitude wasn't compensating for anything, like you'd implied before-- and you choked on your moans of discomfort as he finally let go of your mouth. Only broken sighs came out, unfortunately, and in the corner of your eye you could see him staring down at you with a sneer.

"This is exactly what you deserve," he panted, "getting fucked like a cheap whore in this filthy car. I don't think I've ever been inside one of these things-- my god, is that a cassette player?! How old is this piece of shit?"

You groaned, amazed that he had the energy or focus to insult your car in a time like this-- you were just panting and holding tightly onto the beige fabric seats under you, hoping that someone, anyone, would see what was happening and stop him. God, if someone saw, they'd probably think this was a consensual thing, a kinky little public hookup-- but you couldn't just scream for help or something, you felt very confident that he would find a way to keep you silent.

He sighed as he buried his face in your neck, his hips moving faster-- needier, really. He was even moaning, squeezing your wrists again, acting oddly passionate as if this was something very different than what it was. "You could be pretty, you know," he mumbled to you, "if you smiled more-- and if you didn't do your makeup like a cheap whore. Well... I guess you can't help the cheap part."

"You could be pretty if you weren't a psychopath," you snapped back, making him chuckle proudly.

"Still got that fucking attitude," he noticed, "guess I haven't fucked it out of you yet. How about when you're dripping with my come? Then will you understand how you need to speak to your superiors?"

"Don't," you begged in a gasp, "please-- please don't--"

But he just growled and fucked you harder, making the whole car move with the force of his thrusts. "You fucking wanted me," he accused through his teeth, "didn't you? You wanted this. I could see it on your face, the second you looked at me-- you were imagining how well I'd wreck this little cunt."

You tried to shake your head, but he grabbed you by your hair and yanked your head back until you yelped out a sob.

"I'm close," he breathed, "gonna fucking fill you-- 'cause it's all your good for, sweetheart. Being a waitress isn't that fucking complicated, and you're still shit at that-- so how about you just embrace your natural talents, huh? How about you just take my fucking cock and say 'thank you'?"

"F-fuck you," you barely managed to rasp out, and he made sure to punish you for that by absolutely pounding into you for the last of it.

"Stupid fucking whore," he snarled between deep grunts, "f-fuck, you bitch--"

He moaned suddenly as he came, letting go of your hair and dropping you down onto the backseat again as he gave a few shallow, shaky thrusts; his grip was on your hips instead, keeping you still so he could go as deep as possible.

"Fuck," he sighed, panting to catch his breath; you blinked a haziness out of your eyes, hissing as he pulled out of you-- you were going to feel that sting tomorrow, if not longer.

He put his cock back in his trousers and zipped them up, getting out of the car and taking out his wallet.

"Here's a tip," he offered as he tossed a few bills at you, laughing as you widened your eyes at the realization that they were hundreds. "Start saving up for a new car. Or at least get this one cleaned... you're leaking my come all over the seats."

[redstarwriting]

the clash | vii. i wanna be sedated

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 2k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, you(?) hating hobie, anxious hobie, panic attacks, mentions of death, threat of main character death, giving blood, negative self-talk, ANGST

a/n: another short one, but that’s because it’s about to get intense. there’s a possibility the series may be ending within the next two chapters, but we shall see what happens! please enjoy this one, and i promise it won’t be all angst the rest of the time lmao there will be a pay off, next chapter should be LONG and give a smidge of happiness

previous chapter: vi. (with someone you shouldn’t’ve)

now reading: vii. i wanna be sedated

next chapter: viii. love you to death

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Hobie stares at Miguel. He can see his lips moving, but he can’t hear what he’s saying. All he can hear is his heartbeat and the blood rushing to his head. Kill? This other version of him was meant to kill you. Does that mean he’s going to kill you now that he killed him? No. No that can’t happen. He won’t let it happen.

“HOBIE!”

Hobie realizes he’s gripping the desk in front of him. His eyes are wide, and his heart is beating faster than he has ever felt it beat before. He clenches and unclenches his jaw, swallowing nothing. His throat is dry. Miguel hesitantly places a hand on his shoulder. “Hobie, can you hear me?” He nods, staring ahead of him at his hands. “I think I might know what you’re thinking. You won’t kill them. You aren’t going to take the place of Hobart on their world,” he assures him, and Hobie tries to control his shaky breathing. “You have to calm down,” Miguel says in probably the gentlest voice Hobie has ever heard from him. He forgets he’s a dad sometimes. And that he also has gone through some shit. He nods again, trying to take in what Miguel just said. He accidentally snaps two pieces off the desk with how hard he’s gripping it. He closes his eyes and takes a breath. “You were trainin’ ‘em to stop him.”

Miguel nods. “I was.”

“Does that mean I can still save ‘em?” Hobie looks at him, and Miguel sighs. “Maybe… but–”

“But what?” Hobie frantically asks, and Miguel frowns. “The Venom symbiote was supposed to take over as the Spider-Person for their world as Hobie Brown… if we defeat Venom…”

“Please don’t tell me…” Hobie whispers, and Miguel nods. “There is a 100% chance their world will collapse. It’s the final canon even in (Y/n)’s story.”

“No…” Hobie shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, there has to be a way! We can do somethin’!”

“Hobie…” Miguel starts, but Hobie turns his head towards him, suddenly angry. Ready to fight. “And you were just gonna let this bloody shit happen?! You care so fuckin’ much about the fuckin’ canon that–”

“HOBIE. No! I wasn’t going to let it happen. Why do you think I put so much time and effort into helping them?! I’ve been trying to fix it!” Miguel yells, “I know you might find it hard to believe but I’m not a fan of an evil symbiote taking over the world of someone I’ve been mentoring for the past month.” Hobie looks down again. “What if they just… stayed with me? In my world?” “Hobie, if their world disappears, they disappear,” Miguel explains and Hobie shakes his head. “No. Find out a way to make ‘em stay! You can do that! You have tech and all the shit to do it! We can save ‘em!” Hobie is screaming at this point, and Miguel stares at him for a moment. He sighs, rubbing his face, distressed. “There… might actually be a way,” he says. Hobie nearly falls to his knees. “How?”

“I’ve been developing something to change the genetic code of someone, making them appear like they belong in another universe. My thought process behind it is if Miles did it with the spider from Earth-42, we can do it here as well,” he explains, typing something into his computer. Hobie watches the screens. He reads everything happening in front of him, but it’s a little hard at this particular moment as it feels like everything is kind of crashing down around him. He is able to get some basic information on how Miguel would do this, though. “We’d just need somethin’ from my world, then?” he asks, and Miguel nods. “Yes… but unfortunately the process can be… painful.”

“How painful?” Hobie asks, and Miguel glances at him. “Are you willing to do anything to save them?”

“Yes!” Hobie says, and Miguel nods. “We tested it on inanimate objects until we were sure it would work, then we tested it on animals. And while it always turns out fine in the end… the process is difficult to watch. Their molecules will be rearranged and changed, tearing them apart and piecing them back together. Can you sit by and watch that happen to them?” Miguel asks, and Hobie gulps. “I can try…”

Miguel holds up a smaller device, showing it to Hobie. “What you do is you take anything from your universe, inanimate, and put it in here. I’ll also need a blood sample from you.” Hobie then notices that he’s still gripping the pieces of the desk in his hands. He opens his hands, and the remains of the desk fall out of them and onto the floor. Miguel hands the device over, and Hobie holds it, tossing it back and forth in his hands. “What do I do with this?” “I just told you,” Miguel says, glancing at him. Hobie stares at the little device in his hands. Right. He did just tell him. He hasn’t felt this scatterbrained in a long time. He takes off one of his pins from his vest, sticking it inside. It whirs and shuts tightly. Miguel takes it back from him and nods. “This should work perfectly. Now, I need some blood from you. We’ll perform a blood transfusion with the blood from your world to stabilize them as the genetic splicing takes place, luckily with the technology we have here on Earth-2099, the transfusion should take no longer than 3 minutes,” Miguel explains, as he begins walking toward his lab. Hobie follows him, quieter than he’s ever been in his entire life. Miguel glances back at him. “Are you okay to give some blood?”

“Yeah. Should be nothin’,” he mumbles and Miguel nods.

Miguel motions him to sit in a chair so he could get some blood from him. He sits. “You know, this is the first time you’ve done what I’ve said without fighting me on it,” Miguel says as machines start up, preparing Hobie’s arm for blood extraction. Hobie scoffs. “Come off it, mate,” he mumbles and Miguel shrugs. “I’m just saying.”

“I’m still Spider-Man. I can be responsible or whatever,” Hobie says as the machine takes some of his blood. “Mhm. Apparently, you can,” Miguel says, and he looks at him. “So, you like them, huh?”

“What?”

“(Y/n)? You actually ended up liking them?” Miguel asks again, and Hobie shrugs one shoulder slightly. “Guess so,” Hobie mumbles, and Miguel shakes his head. “The blood extraction should be done soon. How are you feeling?”

“Bloody brilliant,” he mumbles, and then sees Miguel’s face. “Buck up, bloke. I’m fine,” he answers and Miguel nods. “I’ll get everything ready. Bring them here, and we’ll figure out the rest. If it’s the worst case scenario, let me know. I’ll send back-up.”

Hobie stands, giving Miguel a nod, and walks out of the lab. The blood extraction did make him a little light-headed, but he doesn’t have the time to sit around and wait to feel better. He’s lost in his thoughts. He let his anger get the best of him, and in doing so, put you in danger. That was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to protect you and getting that asshole out of the way was the best way to do it. He thought it was the best way, at least. But it turns out that that asshole was him. And now you’re in even more danger than you were before. If that symbiote bonds with you… He doesn’t wanna think about it. Symbiotes can fuck up a host. He’s seen it happen. He doesn’t want you to have to go through any of that. And to top it all off, Miguel was saying how dangerous this symbiote is. Does that mean if it bonds with you, it’ll kill you? And is it like his symbiotes where noises drive it crazy? How did he fuck up this bad? 

He's torn out of his thoughts by a familiar voice. “Hobie! Hey!” Gwen yells, landing next to him. “Alright?”

“I’m good. You should have seen it, Miles, Pav, and I took down Doc Ock after he escaped from prison, it was crazy. We could have used you and (Y/n),” she starts rambling off and he just listens. “Sounds great,” he mumbles, and she raises an eyebrow at him. “You okay? You seem a little… down.”

“’m fine,” he mumbles, and she doesn’t believe him, but she knows he’ll talk about it when he’s ready. Miles and Pavitr appear shortly after, talking to each other about how they did a move together that was ‘so cool!’ and how they need to show Hobie it as soon as they can. “Right, great talkin’ to you all, but I have to go visit (Y/n),” Hobie says, fiddling with his watch to open a portal to your world. “Oh, are you guys on speaking terms again? About damn time,” Miles says, and Pav leaps up and down with a little clap. “Have the two of you accepted your feelings for each other yet?” Pav asks, and Hobie just glances at him, not saying anything. Usually, he would tell him to piss off. But he’s not about to do that when he did realize his feelings for you. So he just stays quiet.

The three of them look at each other with wide eyes as Hobie steps through the portal and into your world without a word.

As soon as he’s back, the air feels a little… different. Maybe it’s just him coming to terms with what he’s done, though. He’s unsure how much time has passed since he left, but a quick glance at the grandfather clock in the corner of your room tells him he’s been gone about three hours or so. He hears a soft meow and looks to see Shadow peeking out from behind a small crack between the wall and your fridge. “Hey, Shadow,” he says, crouching down and holding his hand out. Shadow cautiously approaches him, sniffing his fingers before walking into his hand. He pets him and looks around. “(Y/n)!” he calls your name but gets no response. Strange.

He hears another meow and looks down at Shadow who is staring at your balcony doors. The curtains have been pulled over them, but he can see that one is open from the wind blowing the curtain inside. He sees the silhouette of someone on your balcony, but if it was you, you would have been saying something to him by now.

He gets a bad feeling.

He slowly stands, and Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr end up coming through the portal. “Shh,” Hobie says, holding up his hand and pulling his mask over his face. The three of them glance at each other as they realize something is wrong, too. Hobie slowly walks toward your balcony doors, pushing the curtain out of the way and seeing your form facing out towards the city. You seem to be in your suit, as you’re shrouded in black from head to toe. But it looks like a new suit. Pav, Miles, and Gwen follow him, on edge the whole time. He stares at you for a moment, but you stay still.

“(Y/n)?” he says your name, and he sees your head tilt slightly, signifying you heard him. “Is that… you…?” he asks. You turn slowly. His eyes widen and his heart drops. He was too late. He sees a toothy grin spread across what was supposed to be your mask and clenches his fists as he hears Venom laugh. “(Y/n) can’t come to the phone right now,” Venom says, their otherworldly voice causing the four spiders to prepare for the worst. “But I would like to thank you, Hobie Brown, for freeing me of my constraints.”

Hobie has a flashback to his fight with himself. “The glass…” he mutters, and Venom lets out a laugh. He feels the world close in on him. His hands shake. He was too late. You were already taken over by Venom. As if reading his thoughts, Venom smiles at him, muttering the words that make his heart stop.

“You led me to them.”

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[enemiestolovershoe]

hey :) .. i‘m in desperate need for a very fluffy fic with chris and bsf!reader where reader went to the triplets house earlier that day and ever since she was off. she crashed on the couch and as chris went to the kitchen to get some pepsi he saw that the lights are still one and reader is still up. crying. he askes whats wrong (you make something up) and chris is comforting her in the end and they end up cuddling falling asleep on the couch. :) thank you so much

Shattered Trust

Christ Sturniolo x bsf!reader

Summary: After Y/N’s world shatters from betrayal, Chris offers her comfort and support, helping her navigate the painful path of healing and rediscovery.

Words: 5k

Warnings: Angst, Cheating, Emotional Hurt, Mild swearing, Crying, Emotional Distress, Betrayal

The glowing screen of your phone illuminated your tear-streaked face as you typed out a message. Your hands trembled, but you forced yourself to hit send:

Hey, Chris, are you busy?

It only took a few seconds for the reply to pop up.

Not at all. What’s up?

You hesitated, debating whether to tell him the truth or to brush it off as nothing. The thought of sitting in your room, replaying the betrayal over and over, was unbearable. You needed a distraction, somewhere to go, people to be with—people who felt safe.

Can I come over? you finally typed.

Chris’s reply came faster this time.

Of course. We were just about to pick a movie. You coming over for our movie night?

You blinked at the screen. You’d completely forgotten tonight was one of your monthly traditions with the triplets. Normally, the thought would’ve excited you, but now it just felt like a lifeline.

Yeah, movie night sounds good. Be there in 15.

Chris stood in the living room, holding his phone with a faint smile. "Y/N's coming over," he announced to Nick and Matt, who were sprawled across the couch, arguing about which movie to watch.

"Finally," Nick grinned, tossing a piece of popcorn at Matt. "I was about to call her myself. It’s her turn to pick the snacks anyway."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "You sure she doesn’t just want to escape from her crazy family? Remember that time she showed up because her mom and sister were having a screaming match over hair dye?"

Chris shrugged. "I don’t care why she’s coming. She asked, so she’s welcome."

As you drove through the quiet streets, your mind drifted back to the moment everything shattered.

Your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, you corrected yourself—had always been charming, maybe too charming. You’d never questioned his late nights or the way he sometimes avoided your gaze when your sister was around. You’d trusted him completely.

But a week ago, you’d come home early from a canceled lunch with friends, only to find the two of them tangled up on the couch. The image was burned into your memory, along with the sound of their voices stumbling over excuses.

"Y/N, it’s not what it looks like," he’d said, his voice dripping with guilt.

"Seriously?" you’d spat, unable to even look at your sister. "How long has this been going on?"

Your sister had said nothing, just stood there, avoiding your eyes. That silence had hurt more than anything he could’ve said.

Pulling into the Sturniolos’ driveway, you wiped your eyes and practiced a smile in the mirror. The triplets didn’t know what had happened, and you weren’t ready to tell them. Tonight needed to be about something else, anything else.

Chris opened the door before you could even knock. "Hey, you made it!" he greeted, pulling you into a quick hug. "You okay?"

You nodded, forcing your practiced smile. "Yeah, just needed some company."

"Well, you’re in luck," Nick called from the couch, waving the remote. "We were about to watch something, but Matt refuses to watch anything fun. Save us."

"Hey!" Matt protested. "At least I pick movies with actual plots."

"Sure, if by 'plot,' you mean boring dialogue and depressing endings," Nick shot back.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Ignore them. You want something to drink? Snacks? Or just want to settle in and pick the movie?"

You hesitated, but the warmth of their familiar banter started to thaw the icy weight in your chest. "I’ll take snacks and the remote," you said with a weak laugh.

"Now that’s the Y/N we know," Chris said, his smile softening as he led you into the living room.

You flopped onto the couch with a sigh, curling into the corner as Nick and Matt argued over yet another movie choice.

"Okay, but why would we watch Inception right now? It’s like three hours long, and my brain’s not ready for all that," Nick said, waving his hands in exasperation.

"Because it’s a good movie," Matt shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yeah, but good doesn’t mean fun, and I’m in the mood for fun," Nick retorted.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, your first real laugh in what felt like days. "How about The Hangover?" you suggested, cutting through their debate.

Three pairs of eyes turned to you.

"Classic choice," Chris said with an approving nod.

"Finally, someone with taste," Nick said, glaring at Matt.

Matt rolled his eyes. "Fine. At least it’s better than whatever Nick would’ve picked."

"Excuse me, my taste is immaculate," Nick replied, throwing a handful of popcorn in Matt’s direction.

Chris handed you the remote and stood. "I’ll grab some snacks. Pepsi okay?"

"Perfect," you said, your voice soft but grateful.

A few minutes later, Chris returned with a can of Pepsi and a small bowl of your favorite chocolate. He placed them on the table in front of you, giving you a brief, searching look.

"You good?" he asked quietly, his voice low enough that Nick and Matt wouldn’t hear.

You nodded quickly, not trusting your voice. "Thanks, Chris."

He didn’t push further, just gave you a small smile before sitting down next to you.

As the opening credits of The Hangover rolled, you settled into your corner of the couch. Nick had sprawled out on the floor with a blanket, Matt took the recliner, and Chris sat beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours.

The room quickly filled with laughter as the movie’s chaotic antics unfolded. For the first time in a week, you felt a little lighter, the ache in your chest dulled by the comfort of their company.

"Okay, but how does no one realize there’s a tiger in the bathroom until it’s too late?" Nick asked between bouts of laughter.

"Because they were all blacked out, genius," Matt replied, tossing a kernel of popcorn at him.

"Still. I would’ve noticed a tiger," Nick said with mock seriousness.

You smiled, shaking your head. "No, you wouldn’t. You’d be too busy freaking out over a missing tooth."

Chris chuckled beside you, his gaze lingering on your face. When you glanced over, he quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the screen.

It happened again a few minutes later during one of the movie’s funniest scenes. You caught Chris watching you out of the corner of your eye, his expression soft, almost worried.

"Chris," you whispered, leaning toward him slightly.

"Yeah?" He looked at you, his face unreadable.

"You don’t have to keep staring. I’m okay," you said, forcing a small smile.

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. "I wasn’t staring."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe a little," he admitted, his voice lowering. "I just… You seem different tonight."

Your stomach twisted at his words, but you quickly shook your head. "Just tired, that’s all."

Chris hesitated but nodded, letting it drop. "Well, if you need anything, just let me know," he said softly.

"Thanks, Chris," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the movie continued, you tried to focus on the humor, on the familiar warmth of being with the triplets. But Chris’s quiet concern lingered in the back of your mind, making you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he saw through the smile you were trying so hard to keep.

As the credits of The Hangover Part III rolled, Matt stretched with a dramatic yawn and stood up.

"Alright, I’m done," he announced, rubbing his eyes. "If I watch one more scene of Alan’s nonsense, I might lose my mind."

"You lost it a long time ago," Nick quipped, earning a glare from Matt.

"Whatever. I’m going to bed. Night, Y/N," Matt said with a small wave before disappearing down the hall.

Nick was quick to follow, gathering his blanket and pillow. "Yeah, I’m out too. Y/N, make sure Chris doesn’t make you watch some artsy indie movie if you guys stay up," he said with a wink.

"Goodnight, Nick," you replied with a soft laugh.

As their doors closed, Chris turned to you. "It’s pretty late," he said, glancing at the clock. "You sure you’re okay to drive? You could crash here if you want."

You hesitated, but the idea of going back home, back to the empty room where every corner reminded you of betrayal, was unbearable. "Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you guys."

"Y/N," Chris said firmly, his eyes meeting yours. "You could never bother us. Stay."

You nodded. "Okay. I’ll take the couch, then."

Chris got up and grabbed a blanket from the hallway closet. He draped it over you carefully, his hand lingering on the back of the couch for a moment. "If you need anything, just knock on my door, alright?"

"I will. Thanks, Chris," you said quietly.

"Goodnight," he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

"Goodnight."

As soon as he was gone, the silence of the room felt overwhelming. You curled up under the blanket, the warm fabric doing little to shield you from the cold ache in your chest.

You pulled out your phone, hoping for a distraction, but the sight of an unread message made your heart sink. It was from your sister.

Why are you ghosting me? We need to talk.

Your breath hitched as the words blurred on the screen. She had the nerve to text you, to act as though everything could be fixed with a conversation. Fresh tears welled up, and before you could stop them, they spilled over.

You pressed your hand to your mouth, trying to muffle the sound of your sobs. The last thing you wanted was for the triplets to hear. They didn’t know, and you weren’t sure you could bring yourself to tell them.

In his room, Chris lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Something about tonight wasn’t sitting right with him. You’d been quiet, more than usual. The message you sent earlier had been short, almost hesitant, and now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen or heard from you all week.

Chris frowned, running a hand through his hair. He hated seeing you like this—guarded, distant. It wasn’t like you to pull away, not from them.

He turned onto his side, closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep. But it was no use. His mind kept replaying little moments from the night—the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, the way you flinched when he asked if you were okay, the way you seemed to deflate the second Matt and Nick left the room.

Something was wrong. He didn’t know what, but he was sure of it.

Back in the living room, you wiped your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, but the tears kept coming. The betrayal, the pain, the gnawing guilt of not telling the triplets—it all felt like too much.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block it all out, but sleep wouldn’t come. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw your sister’s name on your screen, her message taunting you, demanding an answer you couldn’t give.

You wanted to tell Chris, Nick, and Matt everything. You wanted to spill it all, to let them comfort you like they always did. But the words felt trapped in your throat, too heavy to say out loud.

And besides, they were probably asleep by now.

What you didn’t know was that Chris wasn’t asleep. He was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, still thinking about you. And something told him he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep tonight.

Chris tossed and turned in his bed, staring at the ceiling for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Sleep just wouldn’t come. His thoughts kept drifting back to you—your forced smiles, the way you’d seemed a little too quiet all night. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

With a sigh, he gave up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, noting the time: 2:37 a.m.

"Great," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

He decided a Pepsi might help, so he padded quietly out of his room and into the kitchen, careful not to make too much noise. The kitchen and living room were joined, and he didn’t want to accidentally wake you.

As he opened the fridge, the faint sound of a muffled sob reached his ears. Chris froze, his hand hovering over the soda can.

He turned his head toward the couch, his brow furrowing. The room was dim, but he could see your figure curled under the blanket, your shoulders trembling.

"Y/N?" he called softly, stepping away from the fridge.

You stiffened, biting your lip to keep any more sounds from escaping. But it was too late—he’d already heard you.

Chris approached the couch slowly, his heart sinking at the sight of you trying to hide your tears. Without a word, he sat down beside you, the couch dipping slightly under his weight.

You turned your head away, wiping at your face furiously, but Chris wasn’t having it. Gently, he laid a hand on your head, his fingers threading through your hair in a soothing motion.

"Hey," he said softly. "What’s wrong, hm?"

"Nothing," you whispered, your voice cracking.

"Y/N," he said firmly, though his tone remained gentle. "Please. Tell me. We both know something’s hurting you. You can tell me anything, I promise."

You shook your head stubbornly, clutching the blanket tighter around yourself.

Chris sighed but didn’t pull away. "Okay," he said after a moment. "How about this? If you don’t want Matt or Nick to know, I won’t tell them. Whatever it is, it’ll stay between us. I swear."

You hesitated, his words making the weight on your chest feel just a little lighter. Taking a shaky breath, you sat up, letting the blanket fall to your lap. Chris stayed close, watching you carefully, his concern etched across his face.

Your eyes fixed on the ceiling as you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "Jason cheated."

Chris blinked, his jaw tightening. He opened his mouth to say something, but you held up a hand, stopping him.

"And it wasn’t just with anyone," you continued, your voice breaking. "It was with my sister."

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Chris stared at you, his eyes wide with shock, his mouth slightly open as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard.

You looked down at your lap, your fingers twisting in the blanket. The silence felt suffocating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

Finally, Chris found his voice. "Y/N..." he started, but his words trailed off, as if he didn’t know where to begin.

Chris sat there for a moment, stunned into silence. His mind reeled at your words, trying to process the betrayal you’d just revealed. But as he looked at you—your trembling hands, the tears that streamed down your cheeks—his shock quickly gave way to something else: protectiveness.

Without hesitating, Chris moved closer, sliding an arm around your shoulders. His touch was warm and steady, grounding you even as your emotions threatened to spiral.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t even know what to say… but I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve that. Not from him. And definitely not from her."

His words broke something loose inside you, and the tears came harder, pouring down your face and soaking the neckline of your shirt. You buried your face in your hands, your body trembling as you let out the sobs you’d been holding back for days.

"How could they do this to me, Chris?" you choked out between sobs. "My own sister… she knew everything—everything Jason and I had been through. And she still—" You couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Chris felt a sharp pang in his chest. Seeing you like this—completely broken—made his blood boil. He wanted to storm out, to confront Jason, to demand answers from your sister, but he knew none of that would help you right now. Right now, you needed him here.

"They’re both selfish," he said firmly, his voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath the surface. "They didn’t think about you at all, and that’s on them. That’s not your fault, Y/N."

You shook your head, tears still streaming. "But it feels like it is… I keep thinking, ‘What did I do wrong? Was I not enough?’"

Chris grabbed your hands, gently pulling them away from your face. "Hey, stop that. Don’t do that to yourself," he said, his tone more intense now. "Jason cheated because he’s an idiot who doesn’t know how to value someone amazing when he has them. And your sister…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "She’s the one who betrayed you, not the other way around. You’re not to blame for any of this. Not even a little."

You tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. The weight of everything—the betrayal, the heartbreak, the shame—was too much.

Chris seemed to sense that. He didn’t say anything more, just pulled you into a hug, wrapping both arms around you tightly. Your head fell against his chest, and he rested his chin lightly on top of your hair.

"Just let it out," he murmured, stroking your back in soothing circles. "I’m right here. You don’t have to hold it in anymore."

The dam broke. You clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely, your tears soaking into his shirt. Chris didn’t flinch or pull away. If anything, he held you tighter, his hand continuing its steady rhythm on your back.

"It’s okay," he whispered, his voice soft but firm. "Cry as much as you need to. I’m not going anywhere."

And he didn’t. Chris stayed there, holding you like you were the most fragile and important thing in the world. Even as your sobs wracked your body, he remained calm, offering the kind of quiet strength you desperately needed.

Minutes passed, though it felt like time stood still. Slowly, your crying began to subside, your breaths becoming less ragged. But Chris didn’t let go, not until he was sure you were ready.

The warmth of Chris’s embrace began to steady your breathing, though your body still felt heavy with exhaustion. Slowly, you pulled away, your hands resting in your lap as you avoided his gaze. Chris leaned back slightly, giving you space, but his concern didn’t waver.

Your eyes were puffy and swollen from crying, your cheeks streaked with drying tears. Chris reached out, his thumb gently wiping a stray tear that lingered.

He gave you a small, reassuring smile. "Let’s try and get some sleep, okay?" he said softly, his voice warm and steady. "It’s been a lot tonight, but it’s going to get better. I promise."

You nodded wordlessly, lying back down on the couch and pulling the blanket up to your chin. The headache from crying so much throbbed behind your eyes, and you couldn’t deny how tired you felt.

As you settled in, you expected Chris to stand and head back to his room. But instead, he surprised you. Without saying a word, he shifted to lie down behind you, sliding in close and wrapping an arm protectively around your waist.

You stiffened for a moment, startled by the gesture. "Chris… you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to," you protested, your voice soft and hesitant.

Chris’s hold didn’t falter. He rested his chin lightly against the top of your head and hushed you gently. "Shhh," he murmured. "I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. We’ll get through this together, okay? You don’t have to do this alone."

His words, spoken with such quiet determination, made your chest tighten. You felt tears prick at your eyes again, though this time they weren’t from sadness.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Chris." Your voice cracked slightly, but you meant every word.

He gave your waist a small squeeze. "Always," he said simply, his tone carrying a weight of sincerity that made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t in days.

The steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his arm around you, and the comfort of knowing he wasn’t going to leave finally allowed your body to relax. The headache and emotional exhaustion took over, and before you knew it, your eyes fluttered shut.

Chris stayed awake a little longer, watching over you as your breathing evened out. He held you close, his heart breaking a little as he thought about everything you’d gone through. But more than anything, he was determined to be there for you, no matter what it took.

Finally, a small, tired smile crossed his lips as he rested his head against the pillow, letting sleep claim him too—right there with you in his arms.

The morning light crept through the blinds as Nick shuffled groggily into the living room, his eyes barely open. He stretched with a yawn, heading toward the fridge for something to drink. As he turned toward the couch, he froze mid-step.

At first, he blinked a few times, convinced he was still half-asleep. "What the…" he muttered, rubbing his eyes dramatically. The sight before him—Chris curled up behind you on the couch, his arm draped protectively around your waist—was not something he’d ever expected to see.

"Am I dreaming?" he asked aloud to no one in particular. After a moment of staring in disbelief, he turned and bolted down the hall.

"Matt!" Nick hissed, bursting into his brother’s room.

Matt groaned, burying his face in his pillow. "Nick, if this isn’t an emergency, I swear—"

"It is!" Nick interrupted, shaking Matt’s shoulder. "You need to see this. Like, right now."

Reluctantly, Matt sat up, his hair a mess and his expression sour. "This better be good," he grumbled, throwing the blanket off and following Nick back to the living room.

When he caught sight of the two of you on the couch, his annoyance vanished, replaced by wide-eyed surprise.

"Is that…" Matt started, leaning closer to get a better look.

"Yup," Nick whispered, his tone somewhere between shocked and amused.

"Did he finally make a move?" Nick asked, tilting his head.

"I don’t know," Matt replied, scratching the back of his head. "But… doesn’t she have a boyfriend?"

Nick frowned, looking at Matt. "Yeah, she does. At least, I think she does. So… what’s this about?"

Matt shrugged, his brow furrowed. "No clue. But they look pretty cozy."

Nick pulled out his phone, biting his lip to keep from laughing. "Should we ask them? Or should I just take a picture for evidence?"

"Definitely a picture," Matt said, smirking.

Nick nodded, holding his phone up and aiming the camera. Just as he was about to snap the shot, his fingers fumbled, and the phone slipped from his hand.

The loud clatter of the phone hitting the floor echoed through the room, and both you and Chris stirred.

Chris blinked awake first, squinting against the light and taking a second to register what was happening. He glanced down at you still in his arms, then up at Nick and Matt, who were both frozen like deer in headlights.

You woke up a second later, groggy and disoriented. "What’s going on?" you mumbled, sitting up slightly and noticing Chris’s arm still loosely around you.

Nick recovered first, quickly scooping up his phone. "Uh, nothing! Morning! Just… you know… didn’t mean to wake you guys!"

Matt, however, wasn’t as subtle. "So… are we gonna talk about this, or…?" He gestured between the two of you, his brows raised.

Chris rubbed his face, clearly trying to think of a way to explain. "It’s not what it looks like—"

Matt snorted. "Really? ‘Cause it looks like you two were cuddling all night."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Can we not do this right now?"

Nick crossed his arms, a mischievous grin creeping onto his face. "Oh, we’re definitely doing this right now."

Chris’s body stiffened as he quickly sat up, his expression suddenly serious. His protective instincts kicked in, and he shot a sharp look at Nick, his voice firm. "No, Nick. Seriously. Drop it. It’s not the time."

Nick froze, blinking in confusion at the sudden change in Chris’s tone. He wasn’t used to hearing his brother so... intense. But before he could ask anything more, his gaze shifted to you.

You had your face hidden in your hands, your shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. That’s when it hit Nick. It wasn’t just a casual morning moment between friends. Something was wrong.

Matt’s playful smirk faltered, and his eyes softened as he noticed the tears trailing down your face. His teasing nature immediately gave way to concern. "Y/N…?" he began, but Chris cut him off before either of them could say anything else.

"Look, this is serious," Chris said, his voice still low and full of emotion. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he turned toward Nick and Matt. "You guys don’t know what happened."

Nick looked at him, unsure. "What happened?" he asked, his voice quieter now, sensing the weight behind his brother’s words.

Chris glanced over at you, his heart breaking as he saw how upset you were. He didn’t want to push you, but he also knew you needed support. "Y/N gave me permission to tell you guys," he said softly, then turned to face Matt and Nick fully. "Jason—her boyfriend—cheated on her. With her sister."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Matt and Nick both looked at each other in stunned silence, their eyes wide with disbelief.

"Wait, what?" Nick whispered, shaking his head in confusion. "He… cheated on her with her sister?"

Chris nodded, his jaw tight with anger. "Yeah. And I know she’s been trying to keep it together, but it’s been eating her up. She didn’t deserve any of this." His voice cracked slightly, the weight of what you were going through becoming even more apparent as he spoke.

You wiped at your eyes, feeling the sting of their stares but too drained to care. Chris’s hand remained on your back, offering what little comfort he could, but you could tell this was a lot for Matt and Nick to process.

Matt was the first to speak up again, his face hardening. "That’s messed up," he muttered, clearly frustrated. "She doesn’t deserve that." He glanced at you, his expression softening. "Y/N, I’m sorry."

Nick nodded in agreement, though his voice was still filled with disbelief. "I… I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell us sooner?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

You sniffed and looked up, finally meeting their eyes. "I didn’t know how to. It hurt too much. I didn’t want to drag anyone into it." Your voice trembled, but you tried to hold it together. "I just needed some time to figure out what to do."

Chris gave your back another reassuring rub, silently telling you it was okay to let them in. He looked up at Matt and Nick, a heavy sigh escaping him. "She needs our support right now, not questions. So please… just… give her space if she wants it."

Matt nodded solemnly, his usual teasing nature now completely gone. "Yeah, of course," he said, his voice softer than before. "You’ve got it, Y/N. Whatever you need."

Nick hesitated for a moment, then gave you a small, almost apologetic smile. "We’re here for you. You don’t have to go through this alone."

You nodded weakly, still feeling the sting of everything that had happened. But for the first time in what felt like days, you felt a small flicker of hope. With Chris, Matt, and Nick by your side, maybe things would start to get better.

Chris’s arm tightened around you once more, offering the quiet comfort of knowing that, for now, you weren’t alone in this.

The room fell into a quiet calm, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air. Matt and Nick gave you the space you needed, no longer pressing you with questions. Instead, they offered small, reassuring smiles, letting you know they were there—ready to support you however you needed.

Chris, still sitting close beside you, rubbed your back comfortingly, his presence a silent promise that he wouldn’t leave your side. The warmth of his touch brought a small, but much-needed sense of peace.

After a few moments of silence, you took a shaky breath and finally looked up at Chris. "I don’t know what to do… or where to go from here," you admitted, your voice still thick with emotion.

Chris met your gaze with understanding in his eyes. "You don’t have to have all the answers right now," he said gently. "We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time."

You nodded, feeling the truth of his words sink in. Maybe you didn’t have the answers yet, but you weren’t alone. With Chris, Matt, and Nick by your side, you knew you had the support to get through this.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice breaking again, but this time with gratitude.

Chris smiled softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Always, Y/N. You’ll never have to go through this alone."

As the day began to unfold, you and the triplets spent the rest of the morning together. No more talk of Jason or your sister—just the comfort of knowing you were surrounded by people who cared. Slowly, the pieces of your heart that had shattered started to heal, one moment, one breath at a time.

And for the first time in a while, you felt a spark of hope for the future, knowing that with time and support, you’d find your way through the pain.

[rinhaler]

THERE'S NOBODY HERE

CHAPTER SUMMARY: So you're trapped in a cabin with your hot ex who you haven't seen in months as well as his hot friends. Now what? Party and make him jealous, of course.

ex-fiancé!rin x f!reader

WARNINGS : 18+, alcohol consumption, oui'd smoking, shotgunning, lots of flirting, sex talk/discussions, squirting mention, dry humping?? (grinding while dancing), rejection, pet names (baby, princess).

WORDS : 8.6k

notes : this series may be a flop but I like it 😭🫶🏽

       LAST CHAPTER┊MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

Rin’s eyes lower from staring up at you, instead focusing on talking to his brother and the other guests as he comes into the cabin and finally shuts the door behind himself. They’re all catching up, it’s plain to see how close they all are and how happy they are to see each other.

Even Rin looks uncharacteristically happy to see everyone. Usually, the only thing on his mind is football and training. Maybe the holiday season is bringing out this new side of him.

Though you can’t help but feel a little nauseated. You know Sae is just as surprised to see him as you are, but still, if you trusted your better judgement, you wouldn’t have come just in case this happened. Your fingers curl around the banister tightly as you try to steel yourself.

“I can’t believe this.” you whisper to Chigiri, who runs a soft palm soothingly across your back.

“Come on.” he tilts his head towards the top of the stairs, suggesting you go and reassess the situation in the safety of your bedroom. He leads the way, and you follow hurriedly, not getting the chance to see Rin glance up at you disappearing. “It’s giving main character.” Chigiri can’t help but smirk as he shuts the door behind you both.

“It’s giving… I’m fucked.” you laugh back before screaming into a pillow. You pull it away, your hair messed up a little before Chigiri puts it back into place for you. “I literally can’t believe this is happening. So much for no Rin talk all week!”

“Oh fuck, I know. So much for a rebound, too.” he sighs. You do a fake little cry before genuinely groaning in distress as he thinks. “I mean, you could still do it, but it’ll just end up causing drama.”

“Yeah no way, maybe we should leave?” you suggest, and he doesn’t argue. It might be for the best, it’s an uncomfortable, unexpected change in circumstance and both of you can’t help but feel less welcome. “They’re his friends. We were only invited because he wasn’t supposed to be coming.”

“Plus we can spend the week together anyway since you managed to get out of seeing your parents.”

“Right!” you nod excitedly. “Okay, wanna help me pack and then I’ll help you?”

“Sure. But I don’t need help and I know you won’t help anyway.” he chides, laughing softly as he stands tall and looks around thinking about where to start.

Really, nothing gets done. You talk about packing, but you both end up sitting on top of the bed and gossiping more about what happened.

Rin Itoshi is here.

And you haven’t seen him since the breakup. That awful, painful breakup. Enough time has passed that the memory doesn’t feel as raw. But Christ it still hurts. You can still feel the way tears pricked at your eyes and flooded your lash line as you broke things off with him. They cascaded downwards with no sign of stopping as Rin begged and pleaded, sobbing to give him another chance.

You wanted to.

You remember how agonising it felt to deny him that chance. The fear in his eyes as he realised things weren’t going to be fixed with words and he really was losing you forever. The exact moment his heart broke into pieces will be etched in your mind for the rest of your life. The pain of that vision has dulled but is ever present.

And seeing him, now, look at you with such little care is like a knife tearing into your flesh. His lack of smile is like salt and bleach pouring into a fresh wound.

You do your best to hide a fresh tear rolling down your cheek from Hyoma, but it’s too late. He sits up on the bed and leans over to you to wipe it away. And you know what’s coming, a classic pep talk from him that always make you feel better. Even if he can be harsh, he always knows best.

Just as he’s about to speak, though, the door swings open.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t— are you two a thing now?”

You shake your head, trying to conceal your red, watery eyes from Rin as he stands in the doorway. Hyoma objects. A little too much for your liking. But there isn’t a single indication of jealousy or relief as Rin listens to him speak.

The thought of you moving on doesn’t faze him at all.

“You’re in my room.” Rin tells you, and you nod.

“Rin! I was just about to tell you that your rooms been taken, you’ll have to—” Sae follows his brother into the room, looking at you with a slight look of sorrow as he can tell how upset you are. And if Sae has noticed, Rin definitely has.

“We’ll be gone soon.” you try to sniffle discreetly. You can’t bear looking at Rin, but your eyes meet his brothers as he cocks his head in confusion. “We were just about to pack and head home. You can have your room back, sorry.” you explain. The brothers watch you as you walk over to the wardrobe and begin collecting your clothes, and you’re thankful for the opportunity to hide your face and wipe your shimmering cheeks.

“You’re not serious, are you?” Sae asks, and all you can do is nod. “Rin was going to take the couch.”

“Was I?” he raises an eyebrow and grimaces at his brother who returns a scathing glare back at him. “Don’t leave on my account. I thought we were going to be mature about this.”

“This is being mature, Rin.” you sigh, finally looking at him. “This is your house. Your friends. It’s okay, it makes more sense for us to leave.”

“Chigiri, talk to her.” Sae requests, only to end up disappointed when Chigiri confesses that he agrees with you. He sighs, but tries to think of a solution. “Look, it’s gonna get dark soon. At least wait until morning? You’ve only been here for an hour or so, and you were excited for this. Things don’t have to change.” he reasons, watching you and Hyoma share a look as you consider it.

“It’s a long drive… icy roads… and he’s right about it getting dark.” Chigiri says to you, quietly, though the brothers can hear. You look at all of them as you think, but you focus on Chigiri as he continues. “Why don’t you move your stuff into my room and then Rin can have his own room?” he suggests.

You sigh, nodding. He starts helping you bring your clothes into his room rather than packing them away, and Rin drags his suitcase into his own room so he can unpack when you’re done.

Sae helps with your stuff, too, sticking around in Chigiri’s room to make sure you’re okay.

“I hope you don’t think I’m setting you up or anything…” he tells you, “I swear he told me he wasn’t coming. He actually told me he’d rather break both of his legs than come here.”

“It’s okay, Sae, I know. I trust you.” you smile at him. Him and Chigiri work well as a team, pretty much taking over and not allowing you to lift a finger as they help you transfer your things to his room. “I still feel like I shouldn’t be here. I don’t feel great and I’m probably going to ruin the mood.”

“Not possible, Rin is the biggest buzzkill without trying.” he laughs, picking up the golden glittery dress Chigiri had noticed earlier. “We’re having a party tonight, definitely wear this.” Sae tells you, handing it to you.

You model in front of the standing mirror in the corner of the room and hold the garment up against your body. It’ll definitely turn some heads, for sure. And even if you can’t actually hook up with anyone, you’re sure you’ll get some attention either way.

“I’m going to town for another booze run, wanna come, Chigiri?” Sae asks, turning focus from you to your friend. Chigiri looks at you inquisitively, like he’s asking permission, but you only shrug.

“I should shower and start getting ready for tonight, anyway!” you tell him. “But you better be back in time to do my hair.” you poke out your tongue.

“Ugh you take forever.” he sighs, heading for the exit with Sae. “Go, go.” he mutters, walking ahead of him until he’s completely out of sight and down the stairs.

“Otoya is coming with us,” Sae tells you. “Ryusei will keep you company if you get lonely.” he smiles, leaving you alone with your thoughts and allowing you to ruminate on the fact you’re stuck in a house with your ex.

Chigiri isn’t back by the time you get out of the shower. You rush across the hall, a little deflated that you’ve downgraded to a room without an ensuite. Though you’re sure everyone is downstairs, your adrenaline is through the roof at the thought of being seen in just a towel.

You make it back to your room unseen, however, locking the door behind you when you get inside. You’ll have to hurry and get dressed in case Chigiri comes back. You’re sure he’s seen you naked countless times through your friendship when you’re too hammered to care, but the thought of him walking in on you with nothing on is too embarrassing to even think about.

YOU: are u still out?

CHIGIRI: yeah we’re heading back now tho

You put your phone away and start to lather yourself in all of your lotions and potions. You’re sure he’ll comment on how overpowering the smell of strawberries and coconut is when he returns but you can’t find it in you to care. You feel so smooth and sweet and invigorated.

There’s a short and vest pyjama set plaguing your mind that you bought brand new that you’re itching to wear. Though when you strip yourself of your towel, you realise you should have brought a dressing gown.

It makes you think about Ryusei.

You’re sure there’s a spare in his ensuite, or if not a spare, he might let you borrow his. You unlock the door to your room once you’re dressed in your barely there loungewear, shivering a little as water still drips and spills across your skin.

The corridor with each room is bare as you look up and down. Though as you walk towards where Sae said Ryusei’s room would be, you spot Rin poke his head out of his bedroom. He sees you, too, barely glancing at you for more than a moment before he goes back inside of his room.

Your stomach churns, nerves getting the better of you. But your eyes soon light up when you see Ryusei leave his own room. You want to call out to him, to run towards him, but he disappears just as quickly when he follows Rin into his room.

It makes you pause, unsure of what to do. You don’t particularly want to see Rin again, but you’d quite like to catch up with Ryusei.

You take a breath, and slowly approach. The door is ajar, though you don’t feel confident enough to reveal yourself. Instead, you rest against the wall. It’s not like you’re eavesdropping, you’re just working up the courage to talk to him.

“Crazy that she’s here.” Ryusei laughs. They’re talking about you, you realise. You slow your breathing and actively make the effort to listen in on their conversation, now. It’s icky and invasive and you hate yourself for it. But you can’t help yourself. You want to know what they’re thinking. Both of them. “How’re you feelin’ about it?”

“Well—” he stops, thinking. It goes silent for a while, and he begins moving around the room. It makes your heart race. Does he know you’re there? Is he about to close the door? You inhale a slow, silent breath, holding it in your lungs for as long as possible. “I’m seeing someone… so I don’t really care.”

“You are? You kept that quiet!”

“You never asked.” Rin responds without missing a beat. “We’re also not friends.”

Ryusei laughs at him, though he isn’t sure if he’s joking or not. They’re friends, right? They talk often enough, and Rin probably sees Ryusei more than he sees his own brother. They hang out a lot outside of practices and games, so he doesn’t doubt that they’re friends, despite what Rin says.

You feel your heart stop beating, you swear.

For the first time, maybe ever, Chigiri was wrong. Rin is seeing someone. He actually moved on. You can’t be mad; you have no right to be mad. Not when you ended things. If you cared about him so much, you wouldn’t have broken his heart. He has every right to move on, and so you do.

Though you can’t stop the way your heart aches. The way it bleeds each time it beats, it’s scarring with every thump. You feel the lashing of a whip lacerating it as it does all it can to keep you alive.

But you’ve died inside.

You can’t help the way your throat suffocates itself with a lump in a desperate bid to gain more oxygen. Your eyes are full. They’re wet and pitiful as you come to terms with the news. Maybe you thought you’d find your way back to each other one day.

After the breakup, he didn’t bother you at all. He took it terribly in the moment. But after, he seemed to shut down completely. Everything was so methodical and planned. He arranged to have his stuff moved out by movers and requested you wouldn’t be there. It was quick and seamless, and you never heard from him again after that.

It hurt.

It stung, in fact.

But in your mind, you hoped that things would change. Even up until now, you hoped you would both grow as people and maybe one day find each other again. You’d be ready to grow up and be who you each needed to be so that you could be together in the right way.

But that can’t happen, now.

You were too hopeful that he’d change for you.

You just gave him the freedom to be someone else’s.

The wood floor creaks as you try and stealthily sneak away, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Rin or Ryusei. You hear Ryusei question if someone is there, and it makes everything worse. You quickly try and disguise your tears before you reveal yourself, pretending to be on the phone as you stand in the doorway.

“Sorry I was just talking to my dad and pacing around! Bye!” you tell them, hurrying away before either of them can call you out on it. You aren’t sure if they realised you were listening in, and truthfully, you don’t want to know. If either of them were to ask you, you think you’d have a breakdown.

You rush back to Chigiri’s room and lock the door behind you, and for a while, you manage to keep composed. Tears are flowing and you feel horrible about the situation, but you’re surprisingly calm.

“Hey, kiddo,” you hear a soft knock at the door. “Can I come in?” Ryusei asks. And that is when you begin to sob.

You go to the door and unlock it, opening it wide and allowing him to see your puffy eyes and soaking cheeks. He tuts, sorrowfully, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs as he enters the room. He closes the door behind himself again and locks it before guiding you to the bed.

The tears don’t stop, and he keeps wiping them away for you. It hurts. God, it fucking hurts. If you had some hindsight and known he’d move on this quickly, you never would have ended things. You’re realising a lot about the breakup and what a big mistake you’ve made, now. And it’s stupid and selfish and you hate yourself for it.

You know you weren’t happy at the time.

But you were a lot fucking happier than you are right now.

“You heard, then?” he asks. “What were you doin’? Eavesdropping doesn’t seem like you.”

“I— I wasn’t. Not really… I didn’t mean to.” you try to explain, still stuttering and sniffling through your words. He coos and shushes you, trying to calm you down so that you can speak and think clearly. He urges you to take deep breaths, and finally, you can explain. “I was coming to see you and then I saw you go into Rin’s room so I got nervous and hid.”

“Ah,” he nods. “Well, what did you want to see me for?”

“I just… wanted to know if you had a spare dressing gown.” you tell him half of the truth, the other half glued to your tongue and unwilling to be shared. Though his smile, his cheeky, almost intimidating smirk has you folding for him and confessing the rest. “’n I missed you, thought we could catch up.”

He pulls you into his arms and squeezes tight. He can’t even begin to tell you how much he’s missed you. Of course, you’re all busy doing your own thing, but he got to see you way more when you were dating Rin.

You have no idea how much he cherishes those moments you came with them when they travelled to away games. The pranks you played with him and the nights you spent up watching movies and learning more about each other.

He’s never crossed a line with you, ever.

But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t thought about it.

Rin is one of his closest friends. And, at the time, you were his. He’d never dream of making a move on you. He wouldn’t want to ruin his friend’s relationship and break the trust between them.

You withdraw from his hug, though. Your eyes shimmer and twinkle as they look into his wantonly. They’re so flirtatious yet stern in comparison to how wet and desperate your own look. The tension between you is rife, and you swear the only thing that can be heard is the way your heart pounds.

He doesn’t expect you to lean forward.

He doesn’t expect you to tilt your head and close your eyes as your face gets closer to his.

It takes him aback, his eyes widening in shock as he realises what you’re doing. His hands fly to your shoulders, and he pulls away from you, keeping you at arm’s length. You feel every organ plummet through your body as you realise what an idiot you are.

“Oh my God.” you sigh, moving away from him and covering your hands over your mouth in horror. How could you be so stupid? You’re stone cold sober and don’t have a single excuse to fall back on. You just threw yourself at him, and he didn’t give you any indication that he was interested.

“Hey, it’s okay! You’re just hurting, and I’m here.” he starts, getting closer to you and putting an arm around you before you shrug him off and walk away. “Things don’t need to be weird, baby, I understand.”

You scoff, looking at him briefly before your eyes fill with tears again at the sheer embarrassment. He stands up, desperate to hold you. To console you. But you don’t let him. Keeping him away as far as possible as you move away from him and push him, almost angrily.

A turn of the handle at the bedroom door makes you both freeze. The following knock at the door forces you to look at him.

“Don’t tell anyone.” you request, eyes pleading with him as you begin to panic.

He doesn’t speak, heading to the door to see who’s there. You’re relieved when it swings open, it’s Chigiri. He looks a little surprised to see you in your scanty pyjamas with Ryusei in the room. The latter of the men doesn’t say a word as he slips by him. Not uttering a sound or even looking at him as he goes back to his own room.

Chigiri comes in, quickly, locking the door again and setting down the shopping bag.

You see two glasses in his hand, quickly grabbing them and setting them down as he pulls out a bottle of rosé wine from the shopping bag. He holds it up, raising a brow, asking a silent question of whether you want to start the party early or not.

“Pour the drinks, bitch.” you tell him. He laughs, screwing off the lid as you grab your makeup bag and a few different eyeshadow palettes from your suitcase.

“Do I even want to know?” he wonders, holding your glass out to you. You take it from his hand as you walk by and sit at the dressing table with your makeup. He circles around you, grabbing his hair dryer so he can start doing your hair at the same time.

“I tried to kiss him.” you smile, sarcastically. “Tried being very important, because he was horrified. He couldn’t keep me far enough away, Hyoma.”

“Well… you are his friends ex, babe. Give him some credit.” Hyoma tries to reason. “There’s no way he wouldn’t kiss you back otherwise.”

“Oh! Speaking of my ex, he’s seeing someone.” you start laughing hysterically before fanning your hands in front of your face to try and stop yourself from crying. “Remember,” you laugh-cry again, “remember when you said he’s too focused on work to move on? Hahaha!” you continue, grabbing your wine glass and drinking every last drop.

“Oh boy.” Chigiri speaks, downing his own glass before topping them both up. Admittedly, you feel way calmer as he starts brushing your hair. His soft hands raking through your locks almost sends you to sleep. “Who told you?”

“No one, I accidentally overheard. Not that it matters.” you shrug. “We’re definitely leaving tomorrow. I can’t do this.”

“Fine.” he shrugs. “You know what you can do, though? Wear that slutty little dress you bought and give him a show. You’re literally a model, babe. What are the odds he’s found a hotter girlfriend than you? I bet she’s ugly.” Hyoma smiles.

God, he’s the best. He knows exactly the right thing to say every time you’re in distress. You wish you could offer the same support to him. But honestly, his life is pretty well put together. He rarely gets involved in drama. And even when he does, he always knows how to get himself out of it.

“Gonna get your hair looking perfect, okay? Wear that dress, grind on the guys, get wasted. And then tomorrow we can dip.” he explains, and you nod. “Who cares if he’s dating someone? You think he won’t get jealous if you dry fuck his friends?”

“No, you’re right.” you tell him before taking another drink. You aren’t sure if you’re feeling genuine confidence or if the blush pink liquid is rushing straight to your head. It doesn’t matter, though. Everything he’s saying is true. And you’re ready and raring to go. “He was so possessive when we were together.”

He nods, and you both clink your glasses together as you seem to have a solid plan prepared to set in motion.

Although, it’s half-baked as best.

Time flies as you get ready. Your makeup is settled on your face to perfection and Chigiri finishes off your hair, making sure there isn’t a strand out of place. He applauds as he admires his handiwork. He reaches for the bottle of wine, realising it’s empty as he goes to pour himself another glass.

“Fuck sake.” he mutters. He watches you as you stand up, the two of you finally notice the sound of loud music playing from downstairs as the room falls silent. You do a little dance as you strip down to nothing, not caring about your present company. “Oh we’re doing this.” he exclaims, turning away on instinct.

“Oh fuck I’m sorry, I forgot.” you laugh, and now you realise you’re definitely at the very least tipsy. He laughs too, noting how confident you are as you stand completely bare in front of him. It’s something you’re used to, honestly. Doing runway shows gives you no room to be embarrassed about your natural form. But for whatever reason, Chigiri makes you feel shy unless you’re drunk.

“I can’t believe you got a Hollywood wax you whore.” he laughs. “Trying to act like you weren’t trying to fuck but you were prepared!”

“You never know, Chigs~!” you sing a little as you walk to the wardrobe to grab the golden dress. You slip into it with ease. You aren’t allowing it to wear you, though. It’s yours and you own it. There is no doubt that you are the one wearing it, dominating it like it was created for your body and yours alone. “I can still hook up, y’know? We’re leaving tomorrow. Who cares if I stir the pot?” you shrug.

“Listen, if you call me Chigs one more time I’m gonna suffocate you with a pillow in your sleep.” he warns you, and you giggle as you slip into your high heels. He doesn’t dispute your point, though. This might be the last time you see any of these guys. Rin has moved on, and there’s no reason you can’t too. And while you’re at it, you may as well burn every bridge in the process.

“Let’s party.” you wink, opening the door.

You’re greeted to a cacophony of cheers and wolf whistles as you descend the staircase. The boys are scattered around. A few of them in the kitchen, while the others are in the lounge.

Otoya curls his finger from the kitchen, inviting you over to hang out with him and the others. You look over your shoulder towards the lounge. Ryusei and Rin are staring at you with an intense gaze. Of course there’s a chance Ryusei told him that you threw yourself at him, but you’re choosing to believe they’re admiring how hot you look instead.

“You look stunning.” Eita tells you, offering you a puff of his J as he holds it in front of your face. It’s been a while since you got high. You stopped when you started dating Rin, and you didn’t feel the need to pick it back up when you broke up. But, now, you have nothing to lose.

“Thank you.” you smile, accepting the weed and the compliment. You admire the lights as they change colour quickly, making you feel like you’re at a club. You immediately sink into a bar stool as you feel the drugs take hold of your body, weariness hitting you instantly.

Karasu lights another blunt and hands it to Chigiri, who smokes without hesitation.

“Do you want a drink?” Sae asks you both, looking between you as you get more and more comfortable in the group. Chigiri nods, walking around the counter to help him.

He knows what you like, after all.

“She looks fucking amazing.” Oliver comments, standing up from between Ryusei and Rin before he heads over to join all of the action in the kitchen. “Hi gorgeous,” he whispers in your ear as he places his hand in the small of your back. You smile, cheerfully, resting your body into his as he holds you close.

“Pace yourself.” Chigiri warns you, sliding your drink to you. You sniff it, realising he’s poured you some Malibu and coke into a cup. His warning goes ignored, however, as you drink two thirds of the drink before setting it down.

“I’m fucked.” you laugh, staggering a little as you walk beside Chigiri to get another drink. He looks concerned, but leaves you be for now. It takes all of your power not to look over to the only two men not hanging out with you right now. “Are they looking?” you whisper to Chigiri.

He looks, quickly.

“Mhmm.”

Your smile widens and you can’t help but laugh. Hyoma snatches the bottle from you as you go to pour a new drink. Oliver passes your original cup to you, and you beam as you remember you hadn’t finished it, though it’s gone in an instant.

“Real party girl, aren’tcha?” Karasu asks, putting his arm around your shoulder and forcing his blunt into your mouth. “You’ll be asleep before midnight I bet.” he challenges you.

You ignore him, turning to face him.

His eyes widen in realisation as he notices you’re keeping the smoke deep in your lungs. He closes the gap between your faces and his lips rest against yours, accepting the smoke back as you exhale it.

“Fuuuck, am I in love?” Karasu laughs as the exchange ends. He turns away, biting his lip slightly as you bend over the counter and rest your head in your hands. The skirt of your dress rides up a little, and Chigiri graciously tugs it down for you.

“Babe, stop,” he warns you, leaning over to whisper in your ear. “You’re gonna end up passing out.”

You gulp, nervously, feeling anxious under Chigiri’s intense eyes. You know he’s only looking out for you, but you can’t help feeling a little on edge. Sae comforts you, though, pulling you into his side like a protective big brother as he asks how you’re doing.

“Having fun?”

“Yes! Thanks for inviting us.” you smile.

“Glad you wore this one, suits you.” he nods. You watch him as he smokes beside you, and you decline when he offers you a puff. Chigiri, however, gratefully accepts without even being asked. Sae leaves your side in favour of sitting next to your best friend as they talk and bond over the joint.

You aren’t sure what to do, now. You feel a little deflated after Chigiri’s warning and you aren’t sure what to do with yourself. It seems like you shouldn’t drink or smoke anymore, but you’re brimming with so much energy you don’t particularly want to sit down.

“Hey, c’mere.” Eita orders, Oliver sits down next to him upon his request.

And when you approach, that is when Ryusei finally decides to come over. He smiles at everyone, but can’t seem to catch your attention as you’re too fixated on the two men with different tints of green in their hair.

Eita stands up when you hoist yourself onto the counter, and he slots himself between your open legs. Ryusei watches the scene unfold, anger bubbling at his jawline as he contemplates whether to intervene or not. His protective side roaring at him to get you away from the renowned playboys.

“Let her be.” Chigiri tells him, noticing his irritation. Ryusei sits down opposite to him, leaning over to chat quietly amongst themselves. Sae listens in, too, but only because he’s in close proximity. “I heard what happened. Did you tell Rin?”

“No, I didn’t.” Ryusei answers, though he doesn’t look happy about it. It feels like a betrayal to hide something so big from his friend, but he knows nothing good will come from sharing. “Oliver and Eita, they’re—”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s none of your business. She’s not looking for a boyfriend, she’s letting her hair down. So, whatever you’re planning, stop. Let her have fun. If you wanted her, you should have—” Chigiri stops himself when he remembers Sae is right beside him. He looks over at you, still being showered in attention by Eita and Oliver.

“Do you have feelings for my ex-sister-in-law, Ryusei?” Sae asks, laughing lightly before passing him the gross remainder of his blunt. Ryusei shrugs, smoking.

“’s complicated.” Ryusei announces, uncaring. He’s sure nothing that is discussed here tonight will be remembered come morning. “Rin! Get off your phone and come over!”

Rin flips him off and continues playing on his phone. You’re a little disappointed, but it can’t be helped. Karasu sits on the other side of Chigiri while Sae shuffles a deck of cards.

“Set up ring of fire, dude.”

“Ring of fire sucks.” you yell over your shoulder, though you giggle when Otoya’s fingers gently caress your chin and force you back to look at him. Oliver pours three shots for all of you, handing them to you and his friend. You drink them together, giggling even more when you feel the buzz rush right into your brain.

“What drinking games do you like, sweetheart?” Oliver asks, his hand resting on your thigh while his thumb softly strokes your skin.

You tell them that you like never have I ever the best, prompting Sae to call Rin over. Then, and only then, does he actually listen. Chigiri makes sure everyone has a drink, pouring something random for Rin as he takes a seat next to Ryusei and opposite to his brother.

It’s nice seeing the kitchen island so lively. In a weird way, you feel like a teenager again. Finding out someone’s parents are out of town and having a big, debaucherous house party while you play drinking games and get too fucked up to even know where you are.

Obviously you’re grown, now. And you like to think you’re a bit more responsible than you were back then. Though it’s likely it might just be Chigiri keeping you on the right path. He shoots a smile at you as Eita helps you down from the counter. Oliver moves one seat along and you sit between them, his arm is around the back of your chair while Eita’s hand remains firmly on your thigh.

“Who’s going first?” Ryusei asks.

“I’ll go, let’s start easy.” Karasu answers. “Never have I ever ate food.” you all laugh and everyone takes a drink. He nudges Chigiri to go next.

“Never have I ever had sex.” everyone laughs, drinking again. You and Rin exchange an awkward look before looking elsewhere.

“Horny, Chigiri? Onto the sex questions already?” Ryusei laughs.

“We all know people only play this for the sex questions so I’m just moving the process along.” Chigiri rolls his eyes before looking at Sae, assuming the questions are going around the table clockwise.

“Never have I ever eaten ass.” He drinks as soon as he finishes talking, and he smiles as Rin grunts, realising he stole his little brother’s question.

You watch Oliver and Eita either side of you drink as well as Ryusei. Karasu admits he hasn’t done it but it very open to trying it, earning a laugh from the group. Rin sits silently for a while as he tries to think of a question. It takes him too long, so Ryusei decides to take over.

“Never have I ever cheated.”

Oliver and Eita laugh before drinking. Chigiri hesitates, but drinks too. Everyone hoots and hollers as he flips them all off. In his defence, he got cheated on first, it was a revenge fuck! Though you don’t speak on his behalf, he doesn’t feel the need to defend himself.

“Never have I ever had a threesome.” Oliver laughs, Eita laughs too.

“Fuck you, man.” he chuckles as they both take a drink. Ryusei, Karasu and Sae all drink too.

“I feel so boring.” you giggle, “You two are gonna be drunker than me at this rate.” you tell the men either side of you.

“Maybe we can change your answer tonight.” Eita whispers into your ear. Rin and Ryusei stare daggers at the three of you, and it only makes you play into it more. Chigiri smirks when he looks over at Rin. His face is unchanging, but he can see that cold, calculated rage burning behind his eyes.

You turn to face Eita, your lips ghosting his before you face the rest of the group again. “Never have I ever been to a party at the Itoshi cabin.” you smile, everyone takes a drink, Rin drinking a heartier amount than everyone else before asking Chigiri for a refill.

“Never have I ever made a chick squirt.” Eita smirks as he drinks. Oliver joins in, and you can’t help but wonder if they shared a girl and gave them that experience. You watch on as Ryusei, and Rin drink, too. Your face flushes with embarrassment as Rin drinks and he looks at you again, averting your gaze and hoping nobody notices. “Fair play, Itoshi.” Eita nods towards Rin.

“Shut up.” he responds. “Never have I ever smoked weed.” he shrugs, reclining back in his seat while everyone else drinks. You can’t help but feel a little disappointed that he’s too focused on his phone rather than being entirely present in the moment with you all. You can’t help but wonder if it’s because he’s too preoccupied talking to his girlfriend.

“I was thinking we could do a secret Santa thing while we’re here, by the way.” Sae suggests, and Chigiri smiles at the idea. “We can all head to town together with a spending budget and find something.”

“That’s so cute!” you nod.

“We can’t do it.” Chigiri reminds you. “We’re leaving in the morning.”

“What?” Sae asks, quickly, and Rin is listening in carefully, now. His phone slotted into his back pocket as he observes your exchange. “I thought we figured everything out?”

You look at Ryusei, uncomfortably and gulp. His eyes soften as he realises you want to leave because of him, but he can’t say anything and start senseless drama. He doesn’t want you to go because of him. He doesn’t want you to go at all. However, he knows while everyone is intoxicated and tensions are high, confessing the reason will only lead to an unnecessary uproar.

“You— You should stay, kid.” is the most he can offer. “We haven’t had a chance to catch up properly, right?” he hopes you can take the hint. He can’t talk about it now, but there is definitely a discussion needed. You sigh, and nod.

“We should stay, Hyoma…” you smile at your best friend. And he looks relieved. He looks pleased that you’re spending a few more days with this crazy group and hopefully having more little parties like this. “And secret Santa sounds like a great idea, Sae.” you nod.

Sae smiles, excitedly. He pats Chigiri on the back and they laugh together happily. They start talking about the gift exchange and how to do it. Sae gets up in search of a pen while Chigiri tears up pieces of cardboard from a drink crate to write on. Sae hands him a pen, and they get to work writing down everyone’s names. Ryusei hands them an empty cup to put the names in.

“Just pass the cup around and take a name.” Chigiri tells the group as he draws the first name and passes the cup to Sae. Rin follows and then passes down to Ryusei. You, Oliver and Eita take your names and then Karasu gets the final piece of cardboard. “We good? Cool.”

“What’s the budget?” Rin asks.

“We’ll decide tomorrow,” Sae answers. “Just don’t forget or lose the name.”

“Does anyone want to dance?” you ask, swallowing the last of your drink. Oliver and Eita nod immediately, Chigiri shrugs and Karasu agrees too. The five of you head towards the lounge where the music is playing loudest.

Chigiri doesn’t dance, but he steps from foot to foot in time with the music. He keeps an eye on the grumpy gang still sitting in the kitchen while you take turns dancing on the three men giving you all of their attention.

You hadn’t expected to be so drawn to Eita, but his height and calm demeanour are pulling you in. His hand rests on your waist while you dance together, your ass pressed comfortably against his crotch.

He plays it cool, of course, whispering sweetly in your ear.

You watch Chigiri as he gets bored with the music, skipping the song to something more familiar.

“You’re a model, yeah?” Eita asks, directly into your ear canal. It makes you shudder, but you nod. “Show us.” he orders, though you’re sure it’s intended as a suggestion. They all seem entertained with the idea, though. No one more encouraging than Chigiri.

He’s your number one supporter, and you love him for it.

He looks a little taken aback as you move away from him, and your face turns expressionless yet sultry. You rise up the small steps that connect the lounge and the entryway, doing the best walk that you can towards the kitchen in your drunken state. You take your time when you get closer to Rin, Ryusei and Sae, posing for a while before turning back towards the other half of the guests.

They all clap and smile when you finish, your friendly, warm smile returning to you.

“That’s her drunk, imagine when she’s focused.” Chigiri hiccups, Karasu laughs with him. The two of them get to chatting and dancing again as they discuss the party thus far.

Oliver ruffles your hair and winks, heading back to the kitchen to get a refill.

“She’s good. She’s a little firecracker, isn’t she?” he laughs.

The siblings and Ryusei don’t say a word. As worried as Ryusei is about you, he tries to distract himself by talking to Sae and Oliver instead. Rin, however, can’t stop looking at you. You’ve stopped thinking about him, though. Your attention is entirely with Eita for now. Chigiri is taking it all in, on your behalf, making mental notes of things to tell you tomorrow.

Hopefully he won’t be too drunk to recall it come morning.

Eita squeezes your ass as you get closer to him. Rin stands up, finishing his drink and telling everyone goodnight. He heads up the stairs when he sees you and Eita almost share a kiss, your lips connect, though you break it before it can really be called a kiss.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

You look towards the stairs, and you hate how Ryusei and Sae are looking at you. It’s like you’re so predictable and they know exactly what you’re going to do. You can’t help it, though.

“I’m sorry.” you tell Eita, running away from him and chasing Rin up the stairs.

Rin’s door is closed, but not locked. You feel slightly sober now that you’re here. Part of you regrets running away and leaving Eita behind, but you know you’d have regretted being so petty and hurting Rin in the morning. Especially now that you’re staying.

You knock on the door, and he doesn’t respond.

Really, you should walk away. He’s either sulking or trying to sleep. Maybe even both. Your better judgement is telling you that you should leave him to it. But you can’t. You’ve been trying to get a reaction out of him all night and you finally got it.

Girlfriend or not, you got what you wanted.

It has to mean something.

So you enter without permission. The room is dark, and there’s no sign of him on the bed. You see the balcony door slightly ajar, and the biting breeze confirms his whereabouts. Did he leave because he was tired? Or did he leave because he felt jealous?

Of course there’s a chance you could be overthinking, but you have to know for sure. Admittedly, discussing your feelings whilst drunk might not be the brightest idea. It doesn’t stop you, though. He knows you’re here when he hears your heels click against the wood flooring. He looks over his shoulder, he’s leaning over the balcony railing when you step out and see him.

“You’re in the wrong room.” he tells you, turning around and resting his elbows on the railing as he faces you. The dark night sky obscures most of his face, but the moonlight highlights him gorgeously. It makes your knees weak, and you can barely think of what you want to say.

“I know,” you tell him. “I just wanted to check on you.”

He scoffs, but nods. You stand beside him and look over towards the town. The cold, bitter wind makes you feel drunker. Part of you can’t believe you’re actually staying here after you were so adamant that you were leaving. The glittering lights of the snow-covered village makes you smile unintentionally.

It’s how you’d imagine Santa’s workshop, if he were real.

“Um… congratulations on the new girlfriend, by the way.” you start, instantly regretting bringing it up. You’re sure you’ll start crying if he starts fawning over her. You don’t even know her, but you hate her. You try to keep calm and remember Chigiri saying she’s probably ugly. At the very least she’s got to be less attractive than you. “I’m glad you found someone… I hope you’re very happy together.”

“We are.” he tells you, immediately. You gulp and it feels like swallowing glass. He’s always been blunt, it’s not because he’s particularly angry or bitter towards you. It’s just who he is. And still, it hurts. “Are you interested in Otoya?”

You’re frozen without a response. You aren’t sure whether to lie or be honest, though you fear he knows you too well and will know if you’re lying to him.

“He’s fun.” you shrug. His lips curls into a smirk at that. It tells him all he needs to know without you saying anything at all. You feel defeated, completely and utterly, as you look at his expression. “I don’t want to come between you and your friends, Rin.”

“I don’t care.” he shrugs, “Do what you want.”

His words are like bullets shredding through your skin. You do what you can to maintain your composure, trying to regain control of the situation and the conversation.

“I thought you might be upset when you left the party…”

“No,” he corrects you, his gorgeous teal eyes fixate on your own as he speaks. “I’m tired. I wanted to say goodnight to my girlfriend, but she must already be asleep.”

And, with that, you run out of willpower to continue talking. He sees how tears begin to prick at your eyes, and you try to walk away before they spill over again. You offer him a quick goodnight as you try to hurry back through the cabin and to yours and Chigiri’s room.

He stops you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back out into the cold.

“You’re unbelievable.” he tells you, bending down so that your noses almost touch. His eyes bore into yours as he offers nothing but a harsh, callous stare. You want to run, but you can’t. His grip on your wrist is firm, and you’re worried the cold temperature will aid in any bruising. The strength of his hold isn’t painful, but the chill of your skin is intensifying it. “You broke up with me. Yet you have the gall to be jealous?”

“That’s not fair…” you whimper, but he’s right. You’ve been saying the same thing all day. Even before you knew he was seeing anyone, you knew you had no right to be upset considering you were the one who ended things. And yet, here you are, trying to defend yourself now that you’re suffering the consequences of your own actions. “I didn’t know you’d move on so quickly… I didn’t know I’d be seeing you again… I didn’t know it would h-hurt.” you hiccup, and you do your best to wipe away your tears with your free hand.

“You just wanted me to grieve forever, yeah?” he wonders. “You thought I’d be waiting in the wings for you, waiting for you to decide you want me back.”

“That’s not true, Rin,” you sniffle, “I care about you. I always will…”

“I don’t want you to.” he informs you. “You’re—”

“I think you still care about me too…” you interrupt him, looking down at the way he grasps harder onto your wrist as you speak. You look up at him again, his face somehow even closer to yours now. “Y-You can’t just turn feelings off that quick… I—”

“I’ve moved on. You’re moving on.” he tells you. “Fuck everyone here for all I care, princess.”

“Rinnie…” a tear silently rolls down your cheek as he calls you a name you never thought you’d hear spill from his lips in reference to you ever again. You can’t help but wonder if he calls his new girlfriend the same sweet names he once called you.

Rin is chillingly composed.

But if only you knew.

He feels a lump in his throat as he replays the way you said Rinnie to him, a nickname long forgotten since your breakup. A name he’d never allow another soul to call him for the rest of his days. It’s yours, all yours. It wouldn’t sound right coming from anyone else, he can’t imagine feeling anything but disdain hearing it from another.

You melt into his touch as he cups your face with his free hand, his thumb swiping at the spilled tear glimmering against your cheek. He looks down at you with a heavy-lidded stare, and you want him.

You miss him.

Especially like this.

His eyes so tired and heavy as he gives into his lust and claims you. Your eyes close completely as you feel his head tilt.

He does still care about you.

He’s going to kiss you. He’s going to cheat on his girlfriend for you. You weren’t far off on your suspicions, after all. He still cares. He might even still love you. You’re too drunk and delirious, though. Your eyes are closed and awaiting his kiss. His are barely open, lazily gazing at you knowing he isn’t about to give you what you so desperately crave.

“Goodnight, princess.” he whispers, the bitter scent of alcohol dusting across your face as he breathes.

You pull away, slowly, horrified that you’ve been denied of a simple kiss twice in one excruciating day. Your wrist is free, now. And he watches as you back away from him. He feels a little bad, but not much. He’s sure you’re only feeling a fraction of the pain and humiliation you put him through when you ended things.

He’s sure you can handle a little rejection.

“Goodnight, Rinnie.” you sniff, walking away calmly until you’re through his room and heading to your own.

You think about telling Chigiri. You even start walking down the stairs so you can cry on his shoulder. But you see him with the boys. His smile is so wide, and he looks really happy. You don’t want to ruin his night, too.

Eita looks up at you, though you don’t catch him looking. You’re too focused on yourself and Chigiri. You don’t notice him follow you as you ascend the stairs. He waits outside of your room as you decide you ought to go to bed.

You don’t even have the energy to take off your makeup or your dress. All you can do is shake your feet until your shoes fly off in different directions. Your body breaks out in goosebumps when you hear a soft knock at the door, and you can only hope your disappointment isn’t obvious when you realise it isn’t Rin coming to talk to you some more.

Eita holds up a joint, offering it to you.

You’re pretty much sober, now.

You’re surprised you haven’t burst into tears, too. So, you nod. You accept his offer, gratefully, hoping you’ll slip off into a blissful sleep once you finish smoking. Eita closes the door behind him, locking it so you won’t be disturbed as he sits on the bed beside you.

© 2023 rinhaler

[drdemonprince]

I was in the car with a new friend recently and he was fuming about stress at work, and his rent going up, and I was sympathetic and bummed for him, and then he started yelling about traffic and freaking out any time a car took more than a millisecond to get moving and it freaked me out and I fell silent. I guess he could sense the energy changing in the air.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Am I bothering you?"

"It's okay," I said instinctively, unconvincingly, trying to convince myself to get over it, to not make him feel bad, to not make things about my feelings. I searched for a justification as to why my reaction was wrong. "I guess I forget what it's like to drive a car."

I used to get screamed at for moving too slowly. I exasperated my parents taking so long finding the momentum to get up and do things. I was spacey. Everything was always happening so quick. Where I wanted to put my attention was never where the world wanted me to. They needed me to care about car routes and traffic and appointment times instead of smooth pebbles on the sidewalk or birds. And my dad was always so furious in the car. Certain he was the authority on what made a good driver and that everyone else was not up to his standards. Ranting and yelling and flipping out so badly it made me cry and then put on a big smile to reassure him. I almost gave up learning to drive as a teen because my slow, plunking movements and insecurity on the road sent him into such a rage.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin the evening," my friend said.

"You didn't," I reassured him.

I didn't want him to think I had a problem with him complaining about his life. That is what friends are for. It was the road rage that touched an unaged part of me, and brough that part forward so strongly I couldn't hide it. I couldn't fix my face. I almost started to cry.

It was the first time in a very long time that I've been well and truly triggered. Certain experiences in the present can make old parts of me reverberate; there's a ringing that you get inside when someone's shampoo smells like a bad old boyfriend or somebody touches you the wrong way without meaning to and you briefly go a little dead. That's manageable. It's a useful cue that something needs to change quickly before you freak out. I thank those triggers for existing. But this one. It caused an actual emotional phase shift straight to the past. Freeze up and then fawn it off, play along, make up for your own reaction.

It's crazy how unsafe I genuinely felt for a moment! And I tend to critique people who abuse the language of "feeling unsafe" for manipulative and white supremacist ends, so it is useful for me to get that reminder of just how reality-bending an acute state of triggeredness is. I tell people to use their words and regulate their distress and there I was, unable to.

I had forgotten one of the major reasons that I hate cars! That is how long I have been away from my dad and car-dependent culture and intense, mean impatience. I have made a lot of the right choices to protect me over the years, or else this upset would not be so unfamiliar.

[greenleaf4stuff]

Of Convenience

(Adar x Celebrimbor, some hinted Annatar/Celebrimbor in the background. Celebrimbor is in Adar's camp but the uruk have not started attacking Eregion yet - he discovered Anntar's deception early and got out of the city. And straight into Adar's arms, er, camp.)

Welp, got inspired by my own "marriage of convenience/political marriage" idea and silverscars edit and wrote a short snippet. Enjoy everyone!

“Give me your city,” Adar proposed – or rather, demanded. Celebrimbor felt himself freeze up at the other’s intent gaze. “Surrender it. Put your city into my hands, and I will spare your subjects.”

Celebrimbor swallowed. He felt as if he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Every minute he hesitated, the orcs were readying their weapons and advancing on his beloved Ost-In-Edhil, bringing with them the promise of death and destruction.

And on the other hand, there was he, and the danger he posed to everything the smith loved and held dear.

But he couldn’t just lay the keys to the city at Adar’s feet, could he?

“What guarantee do I have?” Celebrimbor replied, refusing to be cowed. “That you will not just take my surrender and do with it as you please?”

Adar stepped closer towards him – the smith tried to hold himself up straight, shoulders squared back, the very picture of the lord of Eregion, but he knew his own worry and desperation must show on his face clear as day.

He swallowed as Adar came to a stop directly in front of him.

“I have a proposition,” the orc stated, as if that were an answer to Celebrimbor’s question. The smith was about to ask what one had to do with the other, but Adar continued to speak and almost made Celebrimbor choke on his own spit. “A marriage.”

The smith blinked in disbelief. He must have misheard that. “What?”

“I propose a marriage – purely political, of course,” the orc stated, and began to round Celebrimbor, like a hunter circling its prey. “It’s an unconventional but sound solution – it would guarantee both our safety, and that of our people. A foundation for a peace, if we are lucky enough.”

Celebrimbor felt blood rush in his ears and he desperately wanted to grab something to steady himself. His day had gotten progressively more strange and distressing, and the marriage proposal he’d just heard was just the cherry on top of everything; of having discovered the enemy he’d invited into his own city, fleeing it, and then landing himself in the midst of an approaching army that was set on a path of destruction.

Destruction of a mutual enemy, but at the expense of all that Celebrimbor had ever built and worked towards.

“You cannot be serious,” Celebrimbor tried to declare. To his own ears, it came out as a question instead.

“Is the thought really so absurd?” Adar asked. He had now circled behind Celebrimbor’s back, which caused the smith to shiver and look over his shoulder cautiously. The orc soon stepped into his line of sight again. He seemed more curious than intimidating, despite how he stalked around the smith. “Think it through to the end. You will find there is nothing better I can offer as reassurance. Nothing that you would believe to be true, anyways.”

The smith sucked in a breath and just about kept himself from wringing his hands. He really just wanted to be petulant, to scream and angrily throw Adar’s offer back in his face, but-

But he had to think of his people. Who were in danger from not one, but two threats at the moment. If he could take care of one for certain, and use that chance to eliminate the other as well…

There was a long sigh, and the smith visibly deflated. He hated to admit it, but the other was right. They had few options, especially since there was scarcely any trust between them.

Sure, Adar had been treating him rather well as of now, all things considered – he’d told the orcs to handle the elf with care, had given him food and water, had not even chained the smith (though that could be because he didn’t consider Celebrimbor a serious threat, the smith thought bitterly).

The...foundation was there. And the reasoning.

As if he’d heard his thoughts, Adar stepped closer to Celebrimbor. This time, his look was not one of a hunter, but one of sincerity. “I promise you, I’d not make any demands of you safe for upholding the marriage and the peace. I would not separate you from your people, I will not demand rulership over your city, and-” and he paused for additional emphasis at that point. “I will not ever force you into anything but civil, honest conversation with me.”

It was clear what he meant. It was a...strange thought. Celebrimbor had not even considered it but- well. He had to admit that aside from the company he kept, Adar was...almost beautiful. Despite the pale skin and the scars and the darkness he lived in, he cut a striking figure.

Where before, the thought had not even crossed his mind, he now found his belly quivering with it. Not in a fearful way, but instead with...intrigue?

He mentally shook himself. Gil-Galad was right, he did have terrible taste in what – who – he found desirable. (He did not think of the fiend that was hiding in his forge. He would not. He’d been tricked, deliberately tempted. It was hard to remind himself of that, but it was true.)

The smith exhaled a shaky breath. He should probably demand more time to think on this, but time was something he did not have – ironic that as an elf, he was running out of time now, he thought sardonically.

Instead, he rose up to his full height again, and faced Adar with a steady gaze. With a small start, he realized he was actually taller than the orc. (‚Uruk‘, the other had called himself, hadn’t he?)

“Promise me you will do everything in your power to protect my people. I do not care what happens to me, it is my fault this-” he stopped himself and felt his face pull into a grimace, but he pushed on. “As the lord of Eregion, I will take responsibility. Promise me you will help me fulfill my responsibility to my people, and I will...I will give myself to you. And my city into your hands, until it is freed.”

The look in Adar’s eyes was intense, as if he was trying to find any hidden loophole, any flaw, any lie in Celebrimbor’s words. After a moment that felt near suffocating, the other nodded.

“Very well. I will find someone to officiate,” he said, and made to turn to the entrance of his tent, undoubtably to give his men orders. He paused, however, and looked back at Celebrimbor.

The look in his eyes was softer than the smith had expected. “And I accept your demands. The city will be yours again, once I have rid it of our foe.”

A pause. “And while you would give yourself and your life away with no regards to your own safety, I will not demand you to do so. I will not touch you or mistreat you – you have my word.” And with that, the orc went outside as he gave orders while leaving Celebrimbor alone, his head spinning.

Why was this so important for the other?

Why did it put Celebrimbor at such ease?

And though Celebrimbor barely dared to even acknowledge it – why did the thought of Adar touching him not fill him with fear, but curiosity, instead?

[writerslittlelibrary]

how aboutttt

recently rescued ex-hydra!teen!reader has a pretty bad nightmare and goes to natasha for comfort ⁉️

Can I stay with you tonight? 

masterlist requests masterlist

summary: after you were rescued from Hydra by the Avengers, you had been living with them. however, a change of scenery doesn't mean you forget everything that's ever happened to you…

pairing: Natasha x teen reader

warnings: mentions of abuse?

genre: fluff, (angst?)

words: 1116

a/n: this one is kinda short, so I apologize, but I loved this request, and I hope I did alright!

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

 |——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

Your breath was heavy as you ran as fast as your little legs would take you. You could hear the soldiers screaming, trying to find you as you heard the barlings dogs drawing closer. You ran through the snow, pushing the branches out of your way as you tried to get as far away from the Hydra base as possible.

The sound of the soldiers seemed to fade, and you had hope you finally lost them.

That hope was quickly forgotten as you fell face first into the snow, a dog biting your arm as it kept you down. The dog had jumped you from the side, pushing you to the ground and easily standing on top of you, biting and scratching as you felt the blood starting to pour-

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

You woke up gasping, sweat on your forehead as you reached for your arm, running your fingers over the permanent scar adorning it, the only proof remaining of what had happened that night.

When you reached your hands up, you felt your cheeks were wet. You must've cried at some point during the night. You were heaving, trying to keep in the sobs as you realized what you had dreamt about. You were so close to escaping that night.

It didn't take long until the tears were streaming again, sobs wrecking through your whole body as you folded your arms over your stomach, almost hugging yourself.

That night was one of many you wished you could forget.

Natasha had asked you about it. Ever since coming to the Avengers tower, she'd ask you every now and then how you were doing, and if you were experiencing any nightmares. She'd tell you it was normal, and that her and Bucky often got nightmares after they were first rescued. You'd shrug her off and deny it, not wanting to talk to anyone about the horrors you had been through, and the horrors you were forced to put others through.

Natasha was persistent, however, and even after many times of denying it, she never believed you. 

That's how she knew you were in distress once again tonight. She had Friday alert her every time you were distressed. She was worried about you, of course, but she knew what a person could do after being freed from such a horrible life. She knew better than any other, having been through it herself, and she was afraid you might try to hurt yourself.

Usually, she didn't want to bother you, knowing you liked to keep to yourself, and she was afraid that if she'd push your personal space, you'd just push her further away.

However, tonight Friday alerted her you were much more distressed than usual, and it scared Natasha. What if you'd have to cry alone in your room, covering your sobs and trying to keep quiet because you were afraid someone would notice, and would get mad. What if you'd try to be fine and strong, and only fall apart when you were alone, just like she did…

And so, Natasha set a course for your room, bringing a stuffed animal with her she had bought for you. She knew you were a teenager, of course, but she also knew you had never owned anything a normal child would own, and she wanted to help you heal from that trauma.

When she reached your room, she hesitated for a moment, not knowing if walking in, or knocking, would be the best approach. What if you'd feel caught? What if you'd think Natasha was there to hurt you for showing weakness?

Natasha settled just walking in was the best approach. That way you wouldn't have time to try and hide your sadness.

And so, Natasha opened the door, her heart breaking when she saw the little human ball on the bed. You were hunched over, your knees to your chest and your arms hugging them. Natasha didn't miss the way your breath hitched when you heard the door open and close.

Natasha walked to your bed carefully but quickly. She wanted to comfort you without giving you much time to think about it.

She sat down on the bed, keeping her distance from you, not wanting to scare you but wanting to let you know she was there. You didn't dare look at her, and Natasha was unsure of what to do next.

"Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly, and you shook your head. “No one is going to be mad at you for being upset, okay?” she continued, and you didn't give her a response. " I brought you something…” Natasha then said, placing the stuffed animal she brought on the bed next to you.

You looked at it carefully, staring at Natasha with big, watery eyes as she gave you an encouraging nod, urging you to take it.

Your movement was quick as you reached for it, clutching the stuffed animal to your chest, hugging it tightly. It was then Natasha noticed the reddened scars on your arm, indicating you must've scratched at the already existing scars.

Natasha shuffled a little closer, careful not to invade your space too much.

"Can I see that?” she then asked, motioning her hand towards your scar. You shook Your head and pulled your arm away, turning slightly so your back was now facing Natasha.

"I just wanna help you, I promise,”  Natasha pushed, and she shuffled closer again, now almost sitting next to you. You were still sniffling softly, and Natasha knew you were still terrified from whatever Nightmare you had.

Carefully, Natasha placed her arm around you and lightly pulled you into her chest. It didn't take long before you broke down, letting yourself fall onto Natasha as she rubbed your back, comforting you the best she could.

"It's gonna be okay…” Natasha tried reassuring you, but your sobs just grew.  

"The dogs…” you sobbed. "The dogs got me. They bit me and pulled me down when I tried to run away when I was seven…” you cried out, and Natasha shushed you as she hugged you closer.

"It's okay, you are safe now. I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you ever again, I promise,” Natasha reassured, and you hugged her closer.

"Please don't leave me alone,” you cried out, and Natasha pulled you closer. " I'm never leaving you alone, y/n,” she promised, as she made a move to lie down on the bed, pulling you to lay on her chest. 

"Try to get some sleep. I'm here, I'll protect you,” Natasha said as she stroked your back, feeling your breathing slowly even out, the stuffed animal still tight to your chest.

" I'll always protect you…”

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @daddyshuri

[cozycryptidcorner]

Yeah okay actually. Here is an unfinished story I uploaded onto Patreon back in 2021. I think I hit the same notes but better with Lullaby for Lambs, let me know if it's salvageable at all.

Reader x Unknown non-human. 8000-ish words.

You only tried escaping once.

It was just after you woke up  within a cave formation, head aching and lungs burning. Everything hazed  over in an aura of fanaticism, your vision blurry and mind unhinged.  You became a being of only instinct, the all-encompassing need to  protect and flee becoming your sole goal, all semblance of thought  beyond bite, maim, kill no longer keeping your morals in check. You screamed and you flailed, scratching at the beings immediately perceived as threats, blood and scales caking beneath your fingernails.

You  didn’t make it very far, running and crying and shrieking at anyone  brave enough to approach, cracking a porcelain vase for a makeshift  shiv. The hallways in the system are long, but at the moment, you felt  like you were wandering a maze for a short eternity. The light didn’t  seem right, flowing and filtering through the air as though its only  source was a couple of shoddy projectors. Even as you stumbled through  the strangely curving hallways, hostage in the crook of your arm, you  couldn’t seem to make your eyes focus on any singular object.

Everything  hurt, your teeth, your chest, your feet, the air so cold your jaw  quaked despite how hard you clenched it. You barely even remembered who  you were, just that this was wrong and these people were enemies and you needed to escape, go, run, leave.

“Let  me out,” you half screamed, half choked, to anyone within earshot.  Tears, blood, and snot dripped down your face, droplets of the ungodly  mixture landing atop your bare feet.

Your hostage said something  you could barely understand, in a voice far more calm and soothing than  someone in his position. His words echoed and pulsed in your ears,  equally far and somehow unbearably close at the same time.

“Let me out,” you said again, chest heaving and voice warbling with sobs.

“I  can’t do that,” he was saying, hand reaching up to the hand that you  hold your shard of ceramic in. Even as you pressed it dangerously deeper  into his throat, he petted your arm in soft, gentle gestures.

“Someone else can,” you meant it as a threat, but it sounded more like a whimpering plea.

“They  really can’t.” The only sign of distress he showed was a soft wheeze of  breath when you pushed the shiv further into his skin. “But you’re  going to be okay.”

“Fuck yo-” just when you felt like your focus  was finally sharpening, your surroundings finally in full view,  everything exploded with black. It was a blow too fast and furious for  you to track, right within your blind spot.

Your captors wanted to kill you, apparently.

For  the spectacle of your attempt, that is. Most humans immediately try to  escape, apparently, but your captors weren’t adequately prepared for  someone with your grit and tenacity. These assholes wanted to let you  out, just like you wanted, into the crushing pressure of the deep sea,  to watch your bones crack and crumble. As an example for anyone else  trying to leave, to burn fear into their hearts and keep your people  docile.

They should have.

“You were scared,” your hostage  said, no longer threatened by your shiv, with an infuriatingly gentle  expression on his face, “I forgive you.”

You wanted to jump over the table and strangle him because you aren’t fucking sorry, but you bore the humiliation with stony silence.

“That’s  why I want to help you have a second chance,” he said, seemingly  completely unaware of your bloodlust. A small cut on his neck taunted  you with how close you almost got to killing him. “So you will be my  wife.”

At first, the final part of the statement didn’t even  register. You blink. It hits. And… you couldn’t help but scoff, a loud,  angry snort escaping your body before you could tamper it back down. But  the statement and the way he said it so calmly and absolutely was absurd, you lost control of your own body for a moment. Be his wife, is he insane?

With a single gesture, he stops his guards from striking you without even glancing at them. His entire focus was on you.

“You’re very strong,” he said, “and I admire that.”

You didn’t respond.

“I  need you to be strong for me,” he continued, as though soothing a wild  animal. “This place and my station aren’t one for the weak, but you’ve  shown me that you are more than capable of handling brutality.”

“You like how I almost killed you?” You asked, voice strained and completely devoid of any restraint.

The edges of his mouth curve up into an almost-smile, his teeth sharpened and numerous. “You will thrive here, dearest.”

Jaime,  he asked you to call him. Tall and wiry, head of black hair, and skin  tinged oddly green even when he plays human. You already know that he’s  not; you’ve seen him before, covered in scales with claws sharp enough  to kill a man. That’s why he was so impossibly relaxed during  your initial rampage; the self-assuredness of his own strength  counteracted the fear you had so desperately tried to instil in him.

He comes to visit you more often than you would like, especially during the days leading up to your wedding. He wants you involved, as though that somehow makes everything better, despite the fact it’s  essentially a brightly decorated band-aid on a gaping wound.

“Colors?” The wedding planner asked again, louder, and Jamie gently taps at your hand.

You blink back into existence, trying to anchor your disassociating soul on the samples of fabric on the table. “For what?”

No one dares misbehave while he is present, so the planner puts up a facade of understanding. “For the wedding dress, my lady.”

It takes you a moment to process what she says, the word wedding falling meaninglessly onto your ears. Instead, you try to focus on the word dress, pulling yourself back to reality by pretending to look at… like a prom,  or maybe a ball dress. Some kind of college formal to celebrate a  long-sought-after degree. You swallow tightly and run your fingers over  the materials to see what they would feel like.

“This one,” you decide, hoping it would at least look good against your very human skin.

No  disapproving clicks, no shaking head of disappointment, only absolute  subjugation. The design came a lot smoother; you picked a shape you  remember seeing on Pinterest once, on an infographic about what dress  designs best suit different body types. Then you curl up into yourself,  trying to steady your anxious blood by planning.

You won’t be able  to escape the traditional way, so to speak. After the snide remarks of  some kind of attendant, you know you’re too deep within a body of water  to swim up on your own with no special equipment. That means you have to  figure out how you got here and then how you can get out. There has to  be something like a submarine, or some kind of gear… or even magic, you  suppose.

“The delegates from the neighboring realms already agreed  to come,” the wedding planner says, ignoring how you pinch the bridge  of your nose and stare blankly at the windows. “With the number of  people wanting to come to witness the ceremony, I estimate a few  thousand to attend the reception.”

You choke.

Jaime looks you over with concern.

“Can  I talk to you? Privately?” You feel yourself wake up again, like from a  nightmare. Everything goes from blurry to sharp, your body’s need to  protect itself shoving adrenaline through your bloodstream. Already you  feel like this will be a physical altercation, even though Jaime never  once raised his hand at you.

In that infuriatingly calm tone, he  dismisses the staff. You hate how everyone jumps at his beck and call,  how they scurry off and hide with the faintest flick of his hand, only  to return the moment he calls. As though they wait just outside the  door, always listening despite the illusion of being alone.

“I can’t do a big wedding,” you say, “I actually can’t do a wedding at all.”

Jaime sighs, then rubs his hair. “This has to be a bit of a spectacle.”

“Why?” You cross your arms and try to bite back the bile building in the back of your throat.

He  opens his mouth but quickly closes it, allowing any frustrations he has  to flow off him like a rock in a river. That’s one of the things you’ve  come to hate about him the most- how fucking patient with you he  is. Even now, when you put up as much resistance to every little thing  you can be mentally present for, he goes with whatever direction you  take him and ignores what he can’t change.

“You know I’m important,” he says, a conversation the both of you have had before.

“I  can’t do crowds.” You mean it, too; the idea of performing like a  lovey-dovey baby in front of the thousands promised by the planner makes  you feel nauseous.

He looks you over again, deep in thought, mouth in a thin, straight line. “I don’t think my family will like this.”

“Will  your family prefer to deal with someone kicking and screaming?” You  ask, crossing your arms stubbornly. “Because I’ll fight. I will fight  you all the way up the aisle, all the way through whatever kind of  ceremony you have. I will kick, and I will scream and give people  something to talk about.”

He lets out a sigh, like you’re nothing more than a tantruming child. “We’ve talked about this-”

“You’ve  talked, I’ve listened, but I never agreed to anything.” You feel anger  rising up through your veins. “You think you can control me? You think  you can keep me locked up like an animal, that I’ll bend to your every  whim?”

Jaime watches you for a moment, then shakes his head.

“A  smaller ceremony.” You lean back in your chair. “As little people as  possible, I don’t want to deal with more than… a dozen or two of you  people.”

“Our people,” Jaime says, almost exasperated but still without a trace of anger. “Our people, now.”

You ignore the last part. “Here’s the deal: we have a smaller ceremony, and I pinky swear not to cause any trouble.”

“Pinky swear?” He sounds more baffled than annoyed.

“Super  fucking serious promise,” you say, entirely over having to explain  every minute detail of your life previous to being kidnapped. You hold  out your hand, pinky up, trying not to look murderous. “No screaming, no  running, no… having sex with your best friend the night before. Or  whatever.”

Slowly, he mimics the action, placing his elbow on the  table. You wrap your pinky around his, holding it there for a moment,  then pull your hand back like the physical contact burned.

And you  keep that promise. You even manage to participate in the rest of the  planning for the day, pinching yourself beneath the table to stay  present in the moment. At dinner, you refrain from making any stabbing  attempts, picking at your food with barely any appetite. A partial  victory, one you shouldn’t be too proud of, but still. You can’t help  but feel like you just gained an inch, leaving you open to take a mile.

Your  hair has grown out, and with all sharp objects prohibited, you can’t  play with the style out of boredom. You tug and pull at the strands,  trying to keep track of time based on how long it’s become. Two inches per month, you remember reading, using your fingers as a makeshift measurement. Thumbs are typically two inches, right? You bite the skin of your lip until you taste blood, pick at the skin around your fingernails until they’re raw and red.

Not  one of the attendants are brave enough to take care of you the same way  you witness them coddle other captives. Jaime is the one who rubs  cooling salves on your fingers, dares to dab your lips with thick fat.  He sits with you, sometimes, looking over some kind of holographic  tablet, reading words you can’t comprehend. These are the times when you  start building a scope of just how much trouble you’re really in.

“How  many other humans do you take?” The first and most important question  answers how many friends you might have in the future.

He looks you over as though gauging your mental state before answering. “Not many.”

“What the hell is not many?” You’re already losing your temper, and you’ve barely spat out more than six words. “Like five? Thirty? A hundred?”

“Every  few generations,” he says, clearly thinking over how best to answer  without setting you off further, “the gene pool needs to be replenished,  so introducing new people helps keep this nation strong.”

You can’t even believe what you’re hearing. Who- what… the fuck? It takes every ounce of self-control you hold in your body not to jump  up and tackle him. Deep breaths. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

He looks back down at his work. “Forty-six.”

“That’s specific,” you narrow your eyes, “how do you know the number?”

Even  though you are trying your best to exasperate him, he remains unfazed.  “Because I saw...” he seems to ponder his wording very meticulously,  “the lists.”

“The lists,” you echo.

“We don’t like to use the word abduction,” he says, ignoring your dangerous tone, “I was allowed to have second…  preference over the replanted people, and that’s when I saw the count.”

“And you liked my genetics?” You scoff, cracking your knuckles with one hand.

He  pauses for a moment, then shakes his head. “I wasn’t going to choose  you, truth be told. But then you tried to kill me, and I found that fire  preferable to quaking fear.”

You stand, and to his credit, he  doesn’t even flinch. He even motions for the guard at the door to lower  his weapon as you grind out, “do you think this is cute? Am I some kind of challenge for you?”

“Cute?” He laughs. Laughs at the notion, you would feel insulted by the blatant disregard of the  personality trait if it were anyone else. “No. I don’t think you’re  cute, or someone easy to control. That’s why I want you, because you’re  not to be manipulated by false promises and glamour.

You remain  silent, biting at your lower lips again, trying to figure him out.  Manipulation? Really? Even though you furrow your brows and think about  it hard, you don’t remember Jaime pulling any off, creepy gestures  though. So you try to settle back and figure him out.

“Have I lied to you?” He asks, sensing an opening.

“Not that I know of,” you are chagrin to admit, feeling your breathing tighten.

“But  think about it for a moment,” he continues, easy as can be, “wouldn’t  it be easier for me to lie to you? To tell you that you can go back home  after a little while?”

Would you have believed him if he tried?  Maybe. Maybe you would have sniffed out the lie long before it even  becomes obvious you wouldn’t be returned.

Jaime seems to sense  your silence as compliance. “That’s what most of the males do, by the  way, to make their human wife’s settle in and be docile. Lie until their  tongues bleed and the hope dies from their eyes. I could have done the  same, but I won’t do you the disrespect.”

He wants you to ask him,  but the prideful part of you wants to let him drown in silence. The  curious part of you wins, though, and you finally grit out, “so why  didn’t you?”

“Because I want you to trust me.” He pushes the two sides of the holographic pad together until it collapses in a crisp snap. “And for there to be trust, a foundation of honesty must be laid.”

“Am  I supposed to think that I’m special?” You sneer, rage and anger  filling your blood. “That I somehow won the spousal lottery in the  kidnapping sex slave industry? Thank you so much for doing the bare  minimum a relationship calls for, your grace. I deeply appreciate it.”

No  anger, how does he do it? If you were in his position, you would have  smashed your own face in with an ashtray by now. But Jaime maintains a  cool and calm composer, his voice not even raising a single decibel.  “Think about it. I’m trying to establish you as an equal, dear. I want  you to rule with me, not against me.”

Rule? The notion of  you being in charge of anything is so ludicrous you almost scream with  frustration and laughter. Still, he remains serious, refusing to break  eye contact, his posture infinitely more relaxed than yours. Despite the  fact you’re pretty sure to be the source of his dark, pronounced  circles beneath his eyes, everything else about him is pristine. His  black uniform is trimmed and fitted to the point you can trace his body  through his clothes, combat boots so shiny you can see your haggard  reflection through them. At the moment, he is everything you are not,  clean, clipped, and beautiful, well-groomed to the point it hurts to  look at him. Surely he’s joking.

“I’m not an equal, though,” you  spit out, crossing your arms harder over your chest. “The power  imbalance is so gaping we might as well be separated by a chasm.”

“Power  imbalance?” He asks, as though tasting the way the words in his tone.  Not like he doesn’t believe you, but more like he also thinks he might  have a chance to convince you otherwise.

You turn to the guard,  eyeing him up and down. The fact you managed to get the upper hand in  your initial fight through the base seemed to make whoever assigns  stations be extra cautious. The creature- thing, fish-man, whatever they  want to call themselves, is fucking enormous. Thick, juicy arms,  muscles and bone prime for crushing rebellious little twits. He even  towers over Jaime, a foreboding and memorable presence that has stuck  to your side every moment of every day, hand falling onto his baton if  you so much as scratch your ass unexpectedly. Almost too easily, he can  lift you up, which he typically does by the scruff of your neckline  whenever he finds you lingering too long in one area.

“Please leave,” you say, trying to keep your voice even.

The guard doesn’t move, remaining stoic.

You turn back to Jaime, gesturing towards the door with exasperated movement.

He  thinks for a moment, hands tapping at his bottom lip, then nods at the  guard, who hesitates before leaving the room. Once the two of you are  alone, Jaime prods, “satisfied?”

“Absolutely not,” you refrain  from snapping, though, because it’s still a step in the right direction.  “He’s not going to listen to me when you’re not present, so that still  doesn’t count.”

Jaime leans back, arm stretched out over the  couch, green eyes narrow in thought. After a few moments, he sighs,  waving his hand towards the ceiling as though something can’t be helped. “He’s for your own safety as well.”

“But mostly for babysitting me, like I’m a problematic toddler.”

“No,” Jaime definitely speaks to you like you’re one, though, “just as someone who tried to assassinate a prince.”

You glare.

He’s  unmoving for a moment, then sighs. “I’ll tell him not to follow you  into your room if you swear not to try to kill me again.”

“You’d deserve it, though,” you say under your breath.

“Swear, love,” he prods, “maybe another one of those pinky ones.”

You wait for a beat, unsure of how to react to a grown adult referring to the pinky swear with utmost seriousness. Eventually, though, you raise your right hand,  rolling your eyes. “I pinky swear not to try to kill you… unless you  try to kill me first. Then it’s fuck-all and survival of the fittest.”

He  listens to your wording, head cocked, but seems to accept it without  any argument. Scooching forward just enough to wrap his pinky around  yours, he says, “I’ll tell Rodrick to keep his distance.”

“Good.”

He waits, clearly expecting something.

You  hate how he acts like you have to thank him for any decibel of freedom  he offers, so you lean back and offer nothing. A few moments tick by,  with nothing but the heating system gently whirring against the floor.

“We should have dinner together,” he says, as though the thought has never occurred to him.

“We’ve  had dinner together before,” you say, remembering all the times you’ve  had to be restrained from harming him. It was still early on when you  saw nothing but red and heard thunderous screaming in your ears.

“Not in public,” he responds, “not officially. I haven’t introduced you to society yet.”

“I doubt your society is ready for me,” you say, with absolutely no intention of behaving.

“We are in agreement on that,” he says, completely solemnly, “but I believe we are thinking of different reasons as to why.”

You bite your tongue down to keep from asking why, you don’t fancy it when he can manipulate the conversation in his own favor. Flattery, unfortunately, works regardless if you like the speaking party or not. You need to be  careful not to get too comfortable. Instead, you try to close in on  yourself, shutting the door on him. “If you’re thinking about hosting  some kind of party where I’m the center of attention, fuck off.”

“I’m  thinking about a simple dinner, just you and me, maybe in a public  restaurant.” He cocks his head slightly, opening his tablet again. “Not  necessarily in a crowded area, though, I can make sure we have some  privacy.”

“Without Rodrick?” You prod, refusing to relax even though the guard is no longer present.

“I can’t promise that,” he assents, “but so long as you refrain from any violence, it will be like he isn’t present at all.”

You think about it, completely unsure.

“I  pinky swear,” Jaime remains entirely solemn, “to make the dinner as  pleasant and quick as you wish it to be. My only purpose is to slowly  integrate you back into public spheres.”

Integrate, like  you’re some kind of wild animal he has been slowly taming. The sentence  and the weak-ass promises are what really bother you, so fucking sure of  himself and his so-called methods. But it’s okay, you also can play the  long game. You can’t hurt him today, tomorrow, or even a year from now,  but you can wait until the opportunity arises. Strike when he least  expects it. So you reach your pinky finger out once more, wrapping it  around his blue-tinged skin and nod in agreement.

“I don’t want to be out for too long,” you say, the idea of being scrutinized is too sickening to think about.

“Done.”  He says. “I’ll have someone tailor a cocktail dress for you. I will  instruct your guard to stay out of your room if you request it, but that  hinges on the fact you will not be a danger to yourself or the  seamstress.”

Again, the child-like treatment. “Okay.”

He waits for a beat, like he wants you to say something else, but gives up. “Goodnight.”

“Bye.”

__________________________

True to Jaime’s word, Rodrick stays out of sight, but not out of  mind. You’re well aware that you’re being monitored somehow, either  through cameras or just really well-hidden servants. Now that you at  least have the illusion of privacy, you allow yourself to fidget a lot  more than previously, pacing across the large, clear window that looks  out to the churning sea. While your room is large and spacious, it’s  just that; empty, and you have been exercising just from walking laps  against the walls. After counting your steps once out of boredom, you’re  sure that it’s almost four times larger than your first studio  apartment.

When the seamstress comes, she brings a foldable screen  for you to hide behind when you change, which is more than welcome.  Every single day you’ve been poked at and prodded and scrutinized until  you want to scream blood; this small gesture almost causes you to cry  with relief. But you don’t; you decide that looking strong in front of  strangers will at least ingratiate yourself to Jaime.

Arms  outstretched, allowing the seamstress to preen and fold and sew while  you scheme. You don’t want Jaime to like you because you believe in some  sickening happy ending, but you understand a fundamental thing about  people, fish-like or not. When you love someone, you want the best for  them, which for you would be on the surface. It’s not a guarantee that  he might bend like that, but a fallback plan that sits with many others.

Still, tactful manipulation might be what saves your life in this instance.

Once the seamstress is gone and you’ve picked at your cuticles until the skin around your nails is a bloody mess, Jaime returns.

“I’ve  heard you had a good day today,” he says, taking a strip of gauze and  begins the task of bandaging your wounds. When you don’t answer, he  continues. “I also had a good day. Everything at work went smoothly, and  there haven’t been any issues with the wedding plans thus far. It  probably helps that the wedding is so small.”

You squint at him. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because you need to be involved,” he dips your fingers in a bowl of water, “and that means I should tell you about my day.”

You scrunch up your nose but say nothing.

“You’ll  meet my secretary, Leelah soon enough,” he continues, opening the jar  of sweet-smelling salve, “but she’s exceptionally skilled at her job.  Makes running things smoother.”

“Running the underwater nation,” you clarify, leaning back in your chair with your hands flat on the table.

“Yes,” he says, “the underwater nation you are now a member of.”

“I got that part,” you snap, then take a deep, calming breath. “I’m trying to show interest in what you do.”

“Oh,”  his eyes lighten up marginally, and he squares his shoulders. “Well,  today I was in a meeting discussing the distribution of funds across  public necessities.”

Already you feel your eyes twitching to roll, but you manage to squeeze out an, “oh really? How did that go?”

He  frowns as though trying to spot some kind of underhanded trick up your  sleeve. You have none, though, other than making him comfortable enough  so you can have some breathing room. “It was uneventful.”

“Okay,”  you say, crossing your arms and retreating yourself. The rest of the  hour is spent in dead silence; you don’t even offer any goodbyes when he  leaves like that single conversation took everything out of you.

When  he says goodbye, he places a hand on the back of your head, fingers  slowly working through the steadily growing strands. You try your best  not to recoil.

The planned dinner date, unfortunately, turns out not to be atrocious.

Your  dress fits you like a glove, your waist tight and your breasts  prominent. As you scratch at your arms and play with your hair, Jaime  zips you up, careful to pull the dress away from your skin as he does  so. You don’t take the arm he offers when you leave, but instead, stick  as closely as you can without touching him.

You get stares, but  most of them look away the moment you glare back for more than a few  seconds. You wonder if it’s your outfit. The unfamiliar hairstyle. The  uncomfortable aura pulsating out from your body. So many people are  giving you sideways glances when not outright gawking, but you realize  after hopping into a glass tube that they’re essentially looking through you, directly to Jaime.

You  stare out the window at the sea, mostly seeing your reflection lit up  against the glass. The sand is black, you realize, chewing on the bottom  of your lip as the tube thunks</> out of its station. Your  body jolts forward at the pressure of speed applies, but you brace your  feet to the floor and sit back, so you don’t fall.

Below your feet, a city rushes by, lights and towers  buried beneath another layer of glass and water. You can see through the  distortion a collective of other tubes, a train running adjacent with  your ride until there’s a sharp right turn.

Eyes glued to the transparent floor, you ask, “Is this how you people typically get around?”

He seems to bristle at the use of you people, but doesn’t try to correct it anymore. “The private chambers are for higher ranking officers and emergency trips.”

The  restaurant is mostly empty, and you are instantly relieved. You allow  Jaime to lead you through the dome, the floor a sparkling crystal, and  the walls only sporting a few narrow windows. You can’t tell where the  light comes from, the floors? Ceiling? Walls? There seems to be a dull  glow permeating the smooth transitions between the atrium and dining  area, and as a waiter leads you to a quiet, secluded corner, and you  settle in, no mean words, no snide comments, no stabbing incidents.

Slowly,  you look over your shoulder, noticing through your blind rage that the  waitress looked… like Jaime. As in, not human. Humanoid, yes, but with  the kind of rippling, scaled skin that shimmers in the light. Perplexed,  you turn over to Jaime, “why don’t you try knocking up the ladies  already here?”

He glances over at the long-haired, graceful creature, then turns back to you. “She can’t have children.”

You arch your eyebrows. “That’s a large thing to accuse someone of.”

“It’s  true,” he says, shrugging, “all the women of our kind can no longer  reproduce with us. It will only take three generations removed from  their human mother before your descendants will be the same.”

You gawk. Gawk, at both the expectation for you to have his grandchildren, paired with the tragedy of mass infertility on a scale you can barely comprehend. “But the men can reproduce just fine?”

“Yes,” he says, though the tone of the obviousness of the answer is thick in his voice.

Can’t you fix it, you don’t ask, knowing full well that someone somewhere probably worked  themselves to death over this. You don’t want to ask about the men of  your kind- you don’t remember seeing any when you woke up. You pick up  the menu, a thin film of plastic that shimmers and glitches as if alive  between your fingers. At first, you only see a mishmash of what looks  like thick gibberish, but the words quickly rearrange themselves into a  readable script.

Seafood, all of it, with words and species of  fish and mollusks you don’t even recognize. You squint, trying to suss  out the other ingredients to figure out what the dish might be like.  Sweet? Savory? Spicy? You try to extrapolate what you might be in the  mood based on the words you can actually read. A part of you wants to  give up and let Jaime order, but you’re far too stubborn to lean on him  for anything more at this point.

When the waitress comes back, you  manage to force your voice to speak, almost like you have to strain the  air from your lungs to communicate. Everything is filled with a thick  haze, and you can’t even look her in the eye when you almost mumble what  you want, pointing to the menu in case she can’t understand what you  are sure is barely a wispy breath.

When she leaves, you slump back  into the chair, almost completely exhausted from that single encounter  with a stranger. Your fingers are pale and clammy, mouth twitching  uncontrollably; you have to do your breathing exercises for the first  time in a long while before your body shifts from flight or flight.

“Are you feeling overwhelmed?” Jaime has the audacity to ask.

But  it’s okay, you’re zen. You are one hundred percent filled with inner  peace right now, so while that might have annoyed you twenty minutes  ago, now you are definitely not thinking about reaching over and  slamming his face down onto the table. The spirit within your chest is  filled with so much zen that you are overflowing with the stuff.

“I’m fine,” you say, trying to get your chakras or whatever to pass some more of that zen stuff around.

“You’re doing good,” he says, as though his words of encouragement mean anything to you.

You  cross your arms, legs spread in the dress, in the most unladylike way  you possibly can. That doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest,  though, despite the fact his very posture emulates that of a pretty  princess. His back is straight, even when he leans over slightly to rest  his chin on his hand. Even when he does that, though, his fingers are  poised in a way that screams nothing but elegance.

He clears his throat, glancing up at the ornaments surrounding the ceiling. “What did you think of the selections?”

“I didn’t understand half of it,” you mutter, tracing the odd tableware with your eyes.

His brow furrowed in confusion, eyes narrowing slightly. “Did it not translate to your native tongue?”

“Most of it, but what the fuck is a- uh-” you try to remember the most prominent word, “ashtaroff?”

He  blinks, slowly, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “A fish that grows in  the upper section of the ocean, nearer to the surface.”

“Never heard of it,” you say, wishing you could lean back in your chair just a little bit more.

“Odd,”  he says, “well, we are in a dangerous area where the surface currents  are volatile. Fishing boats likely would not wish to risk the dangers.”

That  makes a bit of sense, but something about how he behaves towards the  question raises a red flag. You don’t know what exactly it could mean,  yet… but just to be safe? “You aren’t feeding me human beings, are you?”

He  balks at that, mouth opening and then shutting like he has no idea what  to even say to that accusation. He even has to take a moment, fingers  pinching at his nose, before answering. “No, we are not feeding you  human flesh.”

It’s a simple, sweet answer, but you can see a part  of him wants to throttle you for even asking, so you dig in your heels a  little further. “Well, you could be, as like, a threat or something. Honestly wouldn’t put cannibalism past you people.”

He closes his eyes, almost like a blink, but far too long to be one, then opens them again. “We are not cannibals.”

“Honestly,  wouldn’t be surprised if you were,” you lift up a fork between your  fingers and pick at a prong, listening to the slight reverb. “Kidnap  women and eat the ones who are not cooperative.”

“If that were the case,” Jaime says, generously, “you would have been the first to go.”

“I don’t think so,” you say, “because you’re somehow fond of me.”

He arches his eyebrows, wordlessly gesturing for an elaboration on the statement.

“Well~”  you sit up, picking up a long spoon, “the servants told me that the  ones in charge of the little sex ring you have going on wanted to flush  me out of an entrance chamber or whatever, but you’re the ones who  stopped them. I don’t know what about me you found hot- probably the  part where I almost ripped your throat open, but I digress.”

Instead of protesting, or even acting coy or unbothered, he seems a bit tenser than he was prior. “Who told you that?”

“Which part?” You ask for the sake of being difficult.

“Who told you about the execution?” He leans forward in his chair, face tight with concern and anger.

“Oh,  so that was true?” You feel a bit ill in your stomach, but brush it off  like nothing is the matter. “I thought they were just saying that  because most of them don’t like me.”

He seems equal parts perplexed and pissed. “Your servants don’t like you.”

It  wasn’t a question, more of an echoing statement, but you shrug. “Dunno.  Guess some people can’t handle me snapping up the fishperson’s most  eligible bachelor with my sexy, feminine wiles.”

He doesn’t seem  to comprehend the joke, his eyes darting to just over your shoulder,  stony silent. It’s just the waitress, though, and the mask of polite  society immediately slipping off the moment she steps away.

“You should have told me,” he says as you start picking at the colorful arrangement on your plate.

“And  what? I figured you’re the ones who assigned them, so like,” you take a  bite, not bothering to offer up the high manners he does, “I wouldn’t  be too comfortable or anything.”

“You thought I would give you disloyal servants,” he says, voice hard like a stone, jaw clenched.

“Don’t act like that’s not a semi-accurate read,” you decide that you’re not a fan of the green pile of steamed something to the right of the plate. “What with the whole kidnapping brides deal,  am I supposed to just assume that you aren’t also capable of bullying  us into absolute submission? I thought it was like a hazing ritual or  something.”

His mouth tightens, and his shoulders tense. For a  long, almost scary moment, he’s staring at you, eyes tracing down the  length of your face, as though looking for any signs of abuse. His eyes  are dark, and his expression of one barely restraining themselves from  rage, but you don’t know if it’s directed at you or not. After a moment,  he turns to his food. “I apologize for their conduct. It was never my  intention to put you in any harm’s way.”

The apology slides so  easily off his tongue that you immediately search for signs of  falsehoods, but he at least seems sincere. You also have a feeling that  he wouldn’t even act this oddly if his intent was to scare you into submission, because for all the weird kidnapping stuff, Jaime is not a liar.

That you know of.

You  try to shrug it off, poking at the unfamiliar cuisine with almost no  interest. A part of you doesn’t want to give him any sort of positive  attention over the apology, but the other, more strategic part is trying  to figure out how to use this to your benefit. You don’t… have to do  any sort of kissing ass, but just thinking about being nice to him feels  like a mouth full of ash. Luckily for you, though, he seems to take the  cue to talk.

“Besides your servants, is everything else to your satisfaction?”

You glare up from your plate.

“Besides  not being able to return home,” he says, almost as though it’s generous  of him to even acknowledge your kidnapping as it is.

You shrug. “It’s boring.”

“Boring?”

“Not a lot to do besides count each and every crack in the walls.”

He cocks his head to the side. “And what can I do to remedy that?”

You pause, because you weren’t expecting him to kind of rollover and offer a solution, you were prepared to drag your feet a lot. “Stuff, I guess. You have mentioned that you’ve been at this for  awhile- shouldn’t you know that most humans like being stimulated in  some way, and there really isn’t anything I can do by myself.” Besides masturbation, but you don’t say that part out loud.

“So you would like projects,” he says, almost as though he expected this day to come.

“I  mean-” you try to think in further detail, “yes, I guess, but like  maybe also some entertainment to go along with it? Do you have  fishpeople tv dramas?”

He cocks his head to the side, observing  you as though some kind of withered anthropologist tackling his new  study. “Of course, I will immediately arrange something after our  dinner.”

You cringe, spending the rest of the meal in silence  despite Jaime’s immediate moves to slightly placate your concerns.  Everyone about him thus far has been an enigma- or maybe not, and you’re  reading too far into the relationship. You don’t even know any other  human wife/fish husband duo to compare it to, but the way Jaime holds  himself when in the presence of others, you think it must be unusual.

Or  maybe making the angry human think they’re somehow special for their  tenacity is a part of some bigger, more well-thought-out scheme, and  you’re so out of depth that they can probably predict your next fart.  You don’t know their capacity for knowledge about you yet, so you have  to assume they know everything. Even if you aren’t an open book  on social media, surely a group of people who have been kidnapping women  for centuries (?) would figure out how to get a simple FBI profile or  something if needed.

While you might not directly say you inhaled the food, you end up scarfing it down much quicker than you intended.  Still, though, watching Jaime eat is almost like a spectacle sport. His  table manners are impeccable, and if this was in any situation less  violating than this, you might be embarrassed over your complete  disregard of etiquette. But you’re done talking, and he looks done  trying to wheedle conversation out of you.

He doesn’t pay, you  notice, when he ushers you out of the restaurant when finished. The  waitress gives him what you assume is like a salute- a hand over her  chest and a soft nod, almost like a partial bow- as the both of you  leave. You suppose that since he’s one of the big guns, he’s just one of  those people who has a secretary or something to take care of costs  when he’s not in the mood to take care of it himself.

The trip  back is more effortless on your part, where you try to note little  landmarks that would lead you right back. As you lean back into the pod,  watching your reflection ripple back and forth against the water, you  realize something.

“Is this a capitalist society?” You ask.

Jaime blinks once, and that’s all that signifies you caught him off guard. “A what?”

“A society that bases itself on the ideas of capitalism? If you don’t know what that is, then the answer’s no, probably.”

“I  know what it is,” Jaime responds, voice as testy as strawberry La Croix  tastes like strawberries. “The entire structure isn’t correct for our  society; our needs and future endeavors are not focused on the success  of an individual, but rather the continuation of a species as a whole.”

That makes sense. “So you didn’t pay for me?”

He looks at you strangely, the tube coming to a stop. “I did not. The system is based on merit, not wealth.”

“But as a prince, you theoretically have both.” You pick at the hem of your dress.

“I  also have done many things to keep this city running,” Jaime says,  standing. “It may seem to you that my station has played a role in your  captivity, but if it weren’t me, it would be someone else.”

“So I should thank you.” There it is again, a reason to be annoyed at him. You were almost tired of digging.

He  walks you down the hallway slowly, hands behind his back, face straight  ahead, and refusing eye contact. Then, in a way that would only be  reckless for him, he says, “maybe you should.”

Oh, you’re  going to eat him alive. “I’m so sorry that I’m not bending over for you  to fuck over the table on account of me being your glorified baby  incubator.”

“Sex doesn’t have to be part of the process-”

“Oh, because being artificially insemination is somehow less invasive?”

He’s  silent for a moment more, and you’re so angry you can barely contain  yourself. In the corner of your eye, though, you see the guard poke his  head into view, drawn to the ruckus of your anger. You shut your mouth,  knowing full well that you’re three angry words away from getting slung  over the guard’s shoulder and carried back to your room.

“Dear,” Jaime says, and you hate it when he calls you that, “this is not ideal for you. I understand. But  I’d rather you try to look at the positives of this situation, rather  than trying to claw your way back to a life that you will never be able  to return to.”

You bite down on your tongue, hard, and then you say something you instantly regret. “You try to stop me.”

Inwardly,  you cringe, regretting the admittance of your escape plans, but Jaime  doesn’t immediately react. Instead, his gaze sticks straight ahead, deep  in thought, mouth twisting in a thin line. Despite the sudden silence,  he’s still walking, though more slowly than before.

Before you even have time to maybe cuss him out, or really let him have it, he turns around. “A project for you,” he says, “I have  an idea for that. I will also try to arrange for various mindless  entertainment.”

You’re still so mad that you can’t do anything but seethe in response.

“Dinner with you was…” he searches for an adjective, “surprisingly competitive. Your rhetoric is sharp as always.”

I’ll give you something sharp, imagining him sliced to ribbons only marginally helps your headspace.

“Goodnight,” he says, the door to your cage opening. “I’m sorry to leave you on such a sour note.”

“Shove your apology up your ass,” you say, stepping through the threshold.

[mukimokai]

hey you!!!

wanna hear one of my fic ideas for a canon rewrite that will absolutely shatter your heart????

yeah...

you've been warned..

.

TW!!!

dr//g ab*se, attempted su!c!de

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alhaitham attempted to overdose after the argument with kaveh over their thesis.

.

they basically screamed each others throats off that day; they've argued over their differing ideals before but it was never this bad, and the fight eventually got a bit physical, and there was a lot of hairpulling, scratching, pulling each other up by the collar, because they weren't just arguing about the thesis anymore, they were mad at each other. until alhaitham pointed out kaveh's fatal flaw, how his altruism is going to fail him one day, and kaveh, who can't handle the truth, yanks at alhaithams hair again, telling him to fuck off, that he wishes he never met him, all through pained, angry tears. and then, he lets go and leaves, bolting out the front door and not even bothering to close it.

it was one of the first times in alhaitham's life that he had ever let his emotions get the better of him, and he watched kaveh run out of the door, panting and shaking, tears prickling the corners of his eyes out of pure, unadulterated frustration. and alhaitham realizes at this moment that he'd lost someone. again.

oh yes, alhaitham's all alone again!! no one cares about him anymore!! he'd just lost the last person in the world who gave a damn!! silly alhaitham!! all because you're you. because you had to open your mouth again. because you had to say something. all you wanted was to help, but nobody understands that. nobody ever will. to them, you're just a cold, calculated, arrogant, cocky, bastard. and look what you've done now.

the thought breaks him, and he crumbles to the ground in what can only be described as a meltdown, a very violent one. vases are shattered, kitchen wear chucked across the room, books thrown around carelessly, all while he screams curses into the air, directed at no one, maybe at Kusanali, maybe at Celestia, who knows, but he screams anyway, bordering on babbles as he stumbles to his room, dizzy and distressed and grabs the bottle of prescription drugs (working on what kind of drug currently). It's not full, it's almost empty actually, only about 10 tablets at the bottom, but alhaitham, hands shaking, laughs incredulously at himself, and eats all of them.

or at least: tries to...

the commotion he'd made upset his neighbours. initially, they were storming over to his house with the Matra beside them to have him taken care of but upon arrival, they were horrified. The matra with them practically tackled alhaitham, making him spit out the 3 pills he had in his mouth when they found him in his room; he had already taken 5. they dragged him to the bimarstan as fast as he could, the neighbours following in terror and worry.

alhaitham was saved that day and the memory still haunts him. he was so clouded with emotion he'd lost all sense of what he was doing and just felt, and it scared him how his own feelings took control of him. At that point, alhaitham only closed up even further, basically forcing on his poker face and shoving down his feelings because he never wanted to feel so vulnerable again. he doesn't want to feel. it hurts to feel. strong feelings only bring pain. more pain than alhaitham could bear.

so alhaitham chose to hide this story, he never told anyone about it, not even a single detail. but kaveh, who moved back in eventually and now lived with alhaitham for about a year since their argument, was tidying up when he found a bottle of pills under alhaitham's bed, it was practically empty, only 2 pills remained.

concerned, he questions alhaitham about it later and it was the first time he'd seen alhaitham genuinely look scared. when kaveh explained he'd found it under his bed, alhaitham snatched away the bottle and disposed of it in the trash, cursing himself for not having found it last year when the incident happened and couldn't believe it had been there the whole time.

kaveh isn't an idiot, he pieced it together the moment he saw alhaitham's reaction. he just stands there, completely speechless and horrified. all he can say is "when..?"

and alhaitham, for the first time since their school years, responds in a shaky, miserable voice, "a year ago."

and kaveh is stunned, just staring at alhaitham, who seemed so unreachable when he moved in, suddenly looking so heartbreakingly vulnerable.

he doesn't say anything.

kaveh just hugs him, buries alhaitham's face into his shoulder and hugs him. and he swears he can hear soft, weak sounds coming from the scribe, and he swears the fabric over his shoulders became damp, but he doesn't say anything.

he just holds him.

i'm sorry. come at my throat all you'd like.

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