#things happen in them but it feels like nothing happened at all

[hanniebaeee]

Pieces of Us

Chris Bang x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: Exes to lovers, second chance love, fluff, smut

Summary: Even a year after your divorce, you can't get over Chris. You keep seeing him all the time because you're co parenting your daughter, and you see that he's still the same man you fell in love with. And you both haven't moved on at all.

It’s late. Your apartment is silent except for the hum of the refrigerator, as you sit on the sofa, nursing a glass of wine when you hear the doorbell.

You find Chris on your doorstep, punctual as usual, holding your toddler, Mia, against his chest, her small body curled into him like she’s still a newborn.

Your heart does a funny little lurch. It must be the wine. Definitely the wine.

“She fell asleep in the car,” he whispers, stepping inside. He is still dressed in his formals, and your traitorous eyes drink him in.

“Rough day?” he asks softly, noting the wine and the way your shoulders sag.

“Something like that,” you mutter, gesturing to Mia’s room. “You can put her to bed.”

Chris nods, carrying her toward her bedroom. He emerges moments later, quietly shutting her door behind him. His gaze locks onto yours, dark and a little too comforting.

“What happened?” he asks, folding his arms against his chest.

“It’s nothing,” you say, but Chris raises an eyebrow.

“Bullshit,” he counters smoothly, sitting next to you on the sofa. “You know you can't lie to me.”

You roll your eyes but relent and say, “Work politics. Same old garbage.”

Chris winces, before he leans forward and says, “You’re too good for them, you know that, right?”

Those are simple words, but they hit harder than they should. You glance at him, something raw flickering in your chest.

“Oh please,” you murmur, looking away.

“What?” He asks. “It’s true.”

You don’t answer, reaching instead for the bottle of wine. Chris doesn’t stop you as you pour a second glass.

“Here, celebrate my failures with me,” you tease, trying to ease your own heart. “I don't feel like wallowing in self pity alone tonight.”

He snorts, shaking his head, but takes the glass.

“You're so dramatic,”

“And yet, you were married to me for five years,” you quip, with a grin.

The wine loosen you both faster than it should. Soon, you’re reminiscing about Mia’s first words, and the road trip to Busan where the car broke down, and you ended up making out in the car till Minho came to rescue you both.

“I miss this,” you admit quietly, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “Talking...and everything,”

You and Chris had been good friends before you both fell in love. It had been the most beautiful years of your life before things started falling apart.

He doesn’t say anything, but reaches out, his fingers brushing yours. It’s subtle, but it sets your heart racing. Like always. Even a year after your divorce, you clearly haven't moved on.

“I miss it too,” he finally says, his voice low. “All the time.”

“Please don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” you mumble.

He leans in, closer than he’s been in a more than year, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

“You think I don’t mean it? You think I ever stopped wanting you?”

Your breath catches as he closes the distance between you. His lips hover inches from yours as he says, “I never stopped…”

It’s reckless, stupid, maybe even a mistake - but you don’t care. You let him close the gap, his lips crashing into yours, and everything you’ve been holding back spills over.

The kiss is messy and heated - all the pent-up frustration and longing coming crashing down. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer, and you melt against him, your arms circling his neck. His lips move against yours desperately, like he is afraid to let go.

When you finally break apart, breathless and a little lost, Chris brushes a thumb over your cheek.

“This doesn’t fix anything,” you whisper.

“No. But it’s a start.”

It’s intoxicating - the feel of him, the heat radiating off his body. You both pull each other close again, his lips moving down your neck, leaving soft kisses.

But somewhere in between, reality raises its nagging head and you falter.

“Wait,” you murmur, pulling back slightly.

Chris freezes, his breathing ragged, as he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“This is… reckless,” you whisper, though your heart won't allow you to let go of him.

He exhales sharply, leaning back just enough to meet your gaze. “Y/N, I -”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, your voice trembling. “I don't want us to mess up again.”

He gives you a look and you think he might argue. But then he sighs. He looks exhausted and a little heart broken. But he stands up and says, “You’re right. We can’t… not like this.”

“You have to go.” You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you.

He stares at you for a long moment, then he nods.

“Right. I’ll… I’ll call tomorrow to check on Mia.” he says, clearing his throat.

You nod, biting your lip to keep it from trembling. Because this feels even harder than the first time.

“Goodnight, Chris.” you whisper.

“Goodnight,” he says, his voice rough.

As soon as he’s gone, the tears you’ve been holding back spill over. You sink onto the couch, your face in your hands, and you cry until your throat is raw. You missed him. And you still hate yourself for letting this happen.

It starts with a look. It always does.

The next time Chris comes by, it’s late again, Mia’s tiny backpack slung over his shoulder, and her hand clutching his tightly as they walk to your door. You try to play it cool, standing in the doorway with your arms crossed and a polite smile fixed on your face.

But then he looks at you and the air shifts.

“Hi,” he says, his voice lower than it needs to be, his gaze lingering on your mouth.

“Hi,” your voice shakes but it's soft.

Mia is already running into her room, way too excited to get to her new playset, and Chris watches her for a moment, before his gaze settles on you.

And then there are no words exchanged as his hands grab you towards him and he's pushing you against the kitchen counter, kissing you.

You moan softly as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hand slips down your back, cupping your butt before pulling you flush against himself.

“Is this going to keep happening?” you ask breathlessly, as he kisses down your neck. Past your collarbone. Down your chest. His face is buried in your breasts, before he kisses them over your t-shirt.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding on to him, and you gasp as he bites your nipple over the fabric and a dull pleasure courses through your body.

“What?” he murmurs, his lips back on yours again.

“This,” you say between kisses.

He kisses you again, rougher than before and says,

“Tell me to stop,” he says, and his hands cup your cheeks, gazing into your eyes.

You don’t. You can’t. Instead, you pull him closer, your bodies so familiar with each other.

It becomes a pattern after that. Anytime he comes over - whether he’s dropping off Mia or picking her up - it happens.

Sometimes it’s rushed and frantic, like the time he cornered you in the kitchen, your lips colliding as the coffee maker sputtered in the background. And other times, it’s slow and sweet. Especially when he knows you're a bit down or you're having a bad day.

You don’t talk about it. It’s easier to pretend this is just an outlet, a way to scratch the itch that never seems to fade.

You tell yourself this is only because he's the only man you've been with for so damn long. You two had married so young. You hate thinking about it.

So you don't. But deep down, you know it’s more than just sex. But you’re not ready to acknowledge it. Neither is he.

Friday evenings with Minho are sacred. He's your best friend, your big brother, your pillar of support. The one person who held you up during your separation from Chris. The only person who knows that you still loved him with everything in you.

Minho brings take out, you both talk, watch a movie, sometimes two. And fall asleep on each other because obviously, you both were the laziest besties in the world.

You've been trying to tell Chris to leave, but he is busy pounding into you. You stand with your hands grips the kitchen counter as he thrust into you from the back, his hands holding onto your hips tightly.

“He's gonna be here any minute!” You hiss, and Chris moves faster, and more rough. You try not to moan as waves of pleasure hit you, and you clench so hard around him, he's shuddering with his release.

“Fuck-” He groans, pressing his face against the back of your neck before slowly pulling out of you.

You both clean up and look somewhat presentable when the doorbell rings. You sigh because Minho will see right through you.

And he won't let you live this down. Ever.

You glance at Chris before opening the door. And Minho steps in already ranting about his day and he stops in his tracks when his eyes land on Chris.

Well that's a first - Minho being at a loss of words.

You freeze, your cheeks burning, while Chris awkwardly shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Hi, Minho,” Chris says, giving him a quick nod.

Minho doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looks between the two of you, his lips twitching in amusement, before slowly smirking.

“Hey, Chris.” Then, he strolls further inside saying, “Don’t mind me. I'm just here for my niece.”

He disappears into the living room, leaving you and Chris standing there like a couple of teenagers caught doing something bad.

“I should, uh, get going,” he says, though he doesn’t move.

“Right, yeah,” you stammer, smoothing your hands over your skirt nervously.

“See you on Sunday,” he says, opening the door.

“See you,” you manage, your heart racing again, and Chris flashes you a smile before leaving.

The moment the door shuts, Minho reappears, a wicked grin plastered across his face.

“Soooo…”

“Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m starting,” he says, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “You’re clearly fucking Chris freaking Bang and you want me to not start?”

“Minho,” you warn, making a beeline for the living room, and he follows you with that menacing grin still in place.

“So, when exactly did this ‘we’re just co-parents’ arrangement turn into ‘we’re fuck buddies again’?”

“It’s not like that!” you protest, though your face feels like it’s on fire.

“Uh-huh.” He says, starting to plate up the food. “You two were totally not flushed and guilty. Try again.”

You bury your face in a throw pillow.

“Linooooo stopppp!! It’s complicated.” you whine.

“It always is with you two,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You’re like Ross and Rachel, except somehow more frustrating.”

You peek out from behind the pillow, glaring at him.

“We’re not -”

“Don’t even think about saying you’re not into him,” Minho interrupts, pointing his chopsticks at you. “I know you, Y/N.”

You open your mouth to argue but immediately close it, because he's stating the obvious and there is no real use of denying it.

“I’m just saying, if you’re going to jump your ex-husband, at least warn me so I can avoid walking into it.” Minho smirks, leaning back smugly.

You groan, throwing the pillow at him. He dodges it easily, laughing as you sink further into the couch, hands covering your face.

“Seriously, though,” he says after a moment, his tone softening. “Are you okay? I mean, this whole Chris thing… are you sure about this?”

You sigh, staring up at the ceiling.

“I don’t know. I love him, Minho, and I swear I tried to move on…but, everytime I look at him…he's the same person I fell in love with. He's not a monster. He's a great father. He's a good friend. And.. and I don't even know why…” Your voice cracks a bit as you struggle with your thoughts. “Then we talked, and it’s like… like nothing’s changed. But everything has changed, and it’s so… messy.”

“Messy’s okay. You deserve to be happy, Y/N. Whether that’s with Chris or someone else.” he says softly. “If you're sure, then go for it.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like to be honest with Chris. To let go of the pride and the fear and just… try again. Because God, you really want to.

Sunday arrives, and Mia is up early, ready for her day with her daddy. She even picks out her favorite toy to take along with her and insists on wearing the sparkly dress she knows Chris loves.

When Chris texts, you think it's to let you know that he's on his way. But it wasn't.

Chris: Hey, something came up. Can we reschedule Mia’s time for today?

You blink at it for a moment, heart sinking slightly. You don’t question it - life happens, after all. But Mia doesn’t take it as well.

“Daddy’s not coming?” she asks, her lower lip trembling and her little shoulders slump in disappointment.

You kneel down, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

“No, sweetheart. He’s just busy today, but we’ll see him soon. How about we have a girls' day instead?”

She looks up at you with big tear filled eyes.

“Girls' day? With Mommy?” she asks, and you nod, pulling her into a tight hug.

“That’s right. Just you and me. Let’s make it special.” You say, kissing her cheek and getting on with it.

You spend the afternoon indulging in ice cream, shopping for new art supplies, and of course, toys. You also take her to an indoor play area that she loves, and by the time you get home, Mia is falling asleep in your arms.

You carry her to her room, tuck her into bed, and she’s out within minutes. Pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, you step out of her room.

The apartment falls into a quiet, peaceful lull. You wash up quickly and sit in front of the TV, hoping to watch an episode of that show you've been trying to watch for a while now. It's not exactly easy with a toddler around.

But around fifteen minutes into the show, you hear the sound of the doorbell. You open the door, and there stands Chris, holding a small box in his hand.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low, as he meets your gaze. “I'm sorry about today. I brought her favorite cupcakes.”

Your heart does a little flip at the sight of him.

“That’s sweet of you.” you say, “But she's already asleep.”

“Oh…I was hoping to see her before....ah,” Chris says with a little sigh.

You give him a small, sympathetic shrug.

“It's okay, she can eat them tomorrow,” You say with a smile and step aside to let him in.

He nods, stepping inside and setting the box of cupcakes on the kitchen counter. There’s disappointment in his eyes and it stirs something deep inside you.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” he says, and it feels like he’s apologizing for more than just missing his day with Mia.

“It’s really okay. Mia missed you, but we still had a good day. She was really happy.” you tell him.

Chris’s gaze lingers on you a moment too long before he says,“I feel like I keep letting you both down.”

“Chris, please don't say that,” you reply, giving him a small smile. “We know you’re doing your best. I know you’re trying.”

He nods, though he doesn't look completely convinced.

“So,” you say, trying to keep it light, “I’m about to have dinner… want to join me?”

It’s an innocent enough invitation. Casual. Polite. But the way he looks at you gives you an idea of what's about to happen next.

Chris takes a step forward, his hand gently cupping your cheek, and then his lips are on yours. The kiss deepens almost instantly and he pulls you closer, your bodies pressed together.

You stifle a sob, and Chris is quickly pulling back to look at you, tipping your chin up to see you better.

“Baby, please don't-”

“I love you-”

There is a moment of silence - Chris's eyes soften as he watches the tears fall. You can't believe you just said that. But this whole thing was getting more and more difficult to manage. The constant need to be close to him. Waiting for the days he spent with Mia, just so you could see him.

And then he's kissing you again, mumbling a hundred ‘I love yous’ you against your lips, and the next thing you know, he's scooping you up in his arms and carrying you towards your bedroom.

He closes the door gently (so that it doesn't wake Mia), and places you on the edge of the bed, kneeling down in front of you on the floor.

“Baby, I never stopped loving you. And there isn't a day where I don't regret letting you walk out of my life… we could've handled things better…and everytime I came here for Mia, I wished you would just ask me to stay. I selfishly wished that you wouldn't move on.” he says, his voice soft and his touch even softer as he placed his hands on your knees.

“I don't think I can ever love anyone like I love you. If you give me another chance, I promise I'll not let you down. I'll spend every day of the rest of my life proving to you that you're my everything… and I will be here for you, always.”

You nod and tears falling more rapidly now, and throw your arms around Chris's neck, and he wraps his arms around your waist, his face pressing against your neck as he holds you close.

“I love you, baby I'm sorry-” You cry, your arms tightening around him. “I didn't know what to do…the baby, the job, there was so much noise, and I wasn't well…I'm sorry I didn't see that you were suffering too-” you hiccup through your tears.

You feel his hand moving up and down your back in an attempt to comfort you.

“I know baby, I'm not mad. We were both suffering. We were both hurt. But we're here now.” Chris whispers.

“I love you, I want you back. Please don't leave me again-”

Chris kisses you again, stealing your breath away.

“No more crying over me ok?” He says with a soft smile. “I'm not going anywhere…I love you and Mia so much, I am going to be here-”

More kisses follow and you move back into the bed, and he follows, both of you pulling at each other's clothes.

He trails his lips down your neck, and it feels like the world outside your bedroom might as well not exist. His hands glide over your skin, gentle, but just as desperate.

You can feel the way he trembles against you, the way his breath catches as your hands move down his chest. And then when he slips inside, as gentle as ever, you can't help but cry, because as beautiful as the moment feels, you realize just how miserable you have been without him.

Chris moves slowly at first, and you close your eyes as the pleasure builds. He peppers so many kisses on your lips and neck, like he can't kiss you enough.

His fingers work on your clit as he moves, and soon your body shudders as your orgasm ripples through you. You moan softly, and it obviously has him crashing down too.

You don't let go, because truth be told, you're afraid he's going to leave. And tonight? You don't want him to. Actually, you don't want to see him walk out that door ever again.

And Chris isn't planning to, because he holds you just as tight, promising softly that he'll be here when you wake up in the morning. And you let your eyes fall shut, trusting him.

You both decide to take it slow, for Mia's sake.

Chris doesn’t officially move in, yet, but his presence is…undeniable. There are more of his things around the house, and more than anything else, it's the way Mia’s laughter grows louder every time he walks through the door. You’ve caught yourself smiling more too - wide, genuine smiles you hadn’t worn in ages.

You love watching him help Mia with her bedtime routine, fixing squeaky hinges around the house you’ve ignored for months, and finding every excuse to stay a bit longer.

And Minho? Well, he’s having the time of his life.

---

One Friday evening, you’re all gathered in the living room. Chris is helping Mia build a tower with her blocks while you sip wine and half-listen to Minho’s dramatic story about his latest “date gone wrong.”

“And then she said she didn’t like cats. Cats, Y/N. Can you imagine the nerve?” Minho says, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks as he digs into the takeout he insisted on bringing.

“Oh my God” you say, laughing as Chris adds, “Sounds horrible, but maybe try not to bring home every stray you find?”

“Don’t think I don’t see you trying to steal my best friend away. Again.” Minho narrows his eyes, pointing at Chris.

“Jealous, Minho?” Chris quips, and Minho scoffs, leaning back dramatically.

“Of you? Please.” Minho says. “But whatever this setup is, it's sure looks promising.”

You freeze mid-sip of your wine, while Chris raises an eyebrow.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask.

“I’m just saying, for exes, you two sure look cozy.” Minho grins, and your cheeks burn, as you try not to look at Chris.

“Minho…” you warn.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m rooting for you,” Minho says, winking before turning back to Mia. “Besides, if it doesn’t work out, I’ll adopt Mia. Because you two are idiots. And we're done dealing with you. Sorry, not sorry.”

Mia giggles at the mention of her name before getting back to her game.

---

Later that night, after Minho has left (eyeing you mischievously because Chris was still there) and Mia is asleep, you and Chris are clearing up the kitchen.

“You know,” he says, his voice low, “Minho isn’t wrong.”

“About what?” You ask, glancing at him, wiping your hands on a dish towel.

“About us. About this.” Chris says, leaning against the counter and folding his arms.

Your heart skips a beat as you gaze at him, watching him push off the counter and walk towards you.

The towel slips from your hands as his fingers brush against your cheek, and his lips land on yours.

It’s slow at first, warm and tender, but it doesn’t take long for it to snap and you're both pulling each other closer. Your fingers tangle in his hair, your body responding to his touch like it always has.

He pauses, his forehead resting against yours as you both catch your breath.

“I love you,” he says, pressing a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.

“I love you too,” you admit, and he smiles, his dimples making an appearance and your heart races as you reach up to run your fingers over it.

He kisses you again, slower this time, like he’s savoring every second of it. And at that moment, this doesn't really feel like a second chance.

It’s the beginning of everything you’ve ever wanted.

The smell of pancakes fills the house as sunlight filters through the kitchen windows. Chris stands at the stove, a spatula in one hand, flipping golden-brown pancakes onto a plate. He’s wearing his usual gray shorts and a fitted black T-shirt. His hair is messy, a sign that he’s only been up for about twenty minutes, and he’s humming softly to himself as he works.

Mia sits at the table, still in her pajamas, happily coloring into a giant coloring book. This is such a dream. You lean against the counter, sipping your coffee, watching Chris with a faint smile that you haven’t been able to shake since he stayed over last night.

For the first time… in a very long time.

And then, the doorbell rings. You frown, setting down your coffee.

“Expecting someone?” He asks and you shake your head, walking to the door and opening it to find your mum standing there, a purse slung over her shoulder and a smile on her face.

“Mum?” you say, blinking in surprise.

“Surprise, sweetheart!” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by. Wanted to see my girls, and I brought muffins!”

She holds up a bakery bag, grinning, then stops dead in her tracks.

Her gaze falls on Chris, who’s just turned around from the stove, spatula still in hand, his expression frozen like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh,” your mom says.

There's silence for a second before Mia screeches, “Grandmaaaaaaaa!!!”

Your mum picks Mia up, pressing a kiss to her cheek before asking if she could play in her room for sometime. Mia pouts, but runs off with a muffin.

Her eyes narrow slightly, taking in how casual Chris looks, his messy hair, and the way he just seems to be part of the scene.

“Good morning, mum,” Chris says smoothly, recovering faster than you could've thought.

He smiles, dimples flashing, as he asks, “Pancakes?”

Your mum raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying his innocent act. She folds her arms, looking at you.

“Y/N… what’s going on here?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you start, suddenly feeling like a child again.

“Mhm.” She gives you a look that says she doesn’t believe you for a second. “You’re telling me it’s normal for your ex-husband to be in your kitchen, making pancakes, looking like he just rolled out of bed?”

“Technically, I did just roll out of bed,” Chris says, unable to resist.

You shoot him a glare, but he has already turned back to the stove, hiding a smirk.

“Y/N?” Your mom’s eyes narrow further.

“It’s… kind of...,” you say finally, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Yes?” she prompts, looking from you to Chris and then back at you. You think she's going to give you a nice big lecture about responsibility. But she lets out a sigh, her posture softening.

“You know,” she says, her tone gentler now, “I always thought the two of you were good for each other. When you got divorced, I was shocked and devastated - for you, for Mia.” She pauses, her eyes locking with yours. “But if you’re giving this another try… I just want to make sure you’re happy, sweetheart. That you’re doing this for the right reasons.”

“I know I messed up before. I know I hurt your daughter. But I love her. I always have, and I’m doing everything I can to show her - and Mia - that I’m here to stay. I realize that I need them more than they need me…so yeah,”

Your mum’s gaze softens as she studies him, and then she looks at you.

“And you, Y/N? Are you happy?”

You glance at Chris, who’s watching you with that steady loving gaze that’s always made you feel safe and sure, and you nod.

“Yeah, Mum. I am.”

Your mom smiles, stepping forward to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Well, then. I suppose I’ll have to stick around for breakfast. Those pancakes smell amazing.”

Chris grins and gets back to work, and your mum nods, making her way in to properly greet her granddaughter again.

Just as she disappears, Chris slides up beside you, his hand brushing yours as you start setting the table for breakfast.

“That went better than expected,” he murmurs, his voice low.

“You’ve always been her favorite, you know.” You glance at him, your lips twitching into a smile.

He smirks, leaning in just enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“Good to know I still am.” He pecks your lips quickly before getting back to work.

You roll your eyes, but your smile lingers as your mum comes back with Mia in her arms. And you all sit around the table and enjoy breakfast.

It’s chaotic and imperfect, but it's home. And for the first time in a long time, you feel like everything is exactly where it’s meant to be. All the scattered pieces of you finally fit.

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @satosugu4l

[beloveds-embrace]

(just a little more of designationless reader)

The mission had gone terribly wrong.

You didn’t know how, didn’t know why, but something had shifted in the air the moment you’d stepped into the warehouse. It had felt wrong- the silence, the utter stillness. It should’ve been the kind of thing you’d recognize, the subtle tension before the storm, but you hadn’t seen it coming and you paid the price.

Just like that, you were caught. Trapped in the thick of it, surrounded by enemies who you couldn’t even remember now, fighting your way through them like a man woman.

It wasn’t long before the pack had gotten to you, of course. You hadn’t been hurt too badly- nothing they couldn’t fix, nothing that would be permanent- but it still left you shaken. The cut on your arm wasn’t deep, but it was enough to send a rush of panic through your system, a crack in the calm veneer you usually kept. It was far too close to major arteries, far too close to turning into a disaster.

As soon as the mission had wrapped up, and you were with them safe, albeit hurt? The tension had melted from the air. Yet the worry and concern from them lingered; thick, and suffocating. You could feel it in the weight of their gazes, the way they moved around you, always in close proximity. They needed to make sure you were safe. Make sure you were whole. Still theirs, every piece of you.

Price had led the way as always, but now, it was different. There was something in the way he looked at you, his usual warmth shadowed by a sharper edge. He was on edge, and you felt the pulse of it much like your wound.

You wondered, not for the first time, if you were normal what the air would smell like- Kyle had told you that John’s scent is close to cedarwood and something so uniquely John, but smelling candles and perfumes would never compare to the real thing and you knew that as well.

You weren’t blind to it. You weren’t unaware of the way the four of them watched you, how every step you took was traced, how every breath was met with a steady, almost imperceptible hum of reassurance.

You had a feeling they were worried. That they were afraid something might happen to you even though you were all back at the base.

And then came Price’s silent decision.

That night, after the pack had tucked you into the nest, making sure every inch of the space was filled with their warmth, John took a quiet breath and approached.

His eyes- dark, like the stormy seas- were focused entirely on you. His presence alone felt heavy, and more than ever, you ached to know what feeling it all would be like.

“You’re mine.” He murmured softly, and there was no doubt in his voice.

You barely had time to process the words before he was sitting beside you, his arm coming around you, pulling you close into him as if he could mould you between the tender space underneath his ribs. It was an action as gentle as it was possessive, and the contrast of it made your heart flutter, shivering.

His body, solid and firm, pressed against yours, and you could hear and feel the faintest growl rumble from deep within his chest. It was a warning. It was a promise. A claim.

It made you feel heavy- molten honey, sticky toffee.

“Let me mark you,” he whispered, the words low and meant for your ears, laced with something that made your pulse quicken. “Let me claim you, love. I won’t let anything happen to you again.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, body locking in place, another shiver running down your spine as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

His hand moved gently over your wrist, where you’d been cut earlier. He pressed a soft kiss to it, lips warm and soothing against the tender skin. You could cry, if you had the energy for it; no one has every treated your body, defective as it is, with such tenderness. No one but them.

“Nothing, and no one, will hurt you,” he murmured again, vibrating through you like a deep purr. “You belong to me, to us.”

A soft sigh escaped your lips, a whimper of relief and affection that seemed to relax the very air around you.

John wasn’t waiting for you to respond. His lips trailed down to your throat, the roughness of his stubble grazing your skin as he kissed you there- lingering. Marking. Claiming. He could feel your pulse under his mouth, steady and soft, and he took his time, savoring each moment as he flooded your senses.

His hands moved to your shoulders, pressing you closer, his warmth enveloping you. He could feel your soft breaths, steady now, though your heart still beat a little faster. He was demanding, there was no mistaking it, but there was something else too- something tender, something just for you.

He wanted to remind you. He wanted to remind you that you were safe with him. That you were his. Theirs. One and the same. A part of them, of him.

And as he pulled back, his hands gently cupping your face, he hummed. “I’ll protect you. Always.”

There was a finality to the words, a quiet promise. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a long moment, everything else in the world faded. There was only him, only you, and the weight of everything he was offering- his protection, his love, his pack.

The others- Soap, Gaz, Ghost- they were there too, watching from the edges of the nest, but they were content. They understood. They’d always understood. John had been the first to claim you, but they were already a part of you, already tangled in your heart and soul.

But for now, it was John’s turn. His moment to show you how much you meant to him.

He leaned in again, his lips finding your forehead in a soft, lingering kiss, a final mark before he wrapped you fully in his embrace. The warmth of him, the warmth of the pack, filled the space, and you sank deeper into the cozyness of it, feeling a sense of peace that was unlike anything you’d ever known.

For the first time in your life, you felt complete. You felt wanted. You felt safe.

And as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, the steady, soothing rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest was all you needed.

[manic-quinn]

i once had to break up with someone while we were still in love. i was going through a rough patch and they needed more than i had to give. right person, wrong time

they tried to get back together with me on 3 separate occasions in the following month

the first time they sent me this long text about how

“we could work together so that it’s different this time. you didn’t let me help you with your issues and i never communicated mine. i just can’t shake the feeling that we made a mistake”

i missed them dearly and i almost went back…but they hadn’t changed and neither had i. as much as i wanted to pretend we could work on it, i knew that it would just be a matter of time before we broke up again. breaking their heart once almost killed me and i simply couldn’t risk doing it again. so i wrote a heartfelt paragraph to say

“i wish you the best and i want to make you happy, but it’s only been a week and nothings changed. im sorry but no”

it hurt, but it was necessary. i hope they understood where i was coming from. then a few days later, they texted me again and said

“we had something special” (and we did) “i take all the blame. you were always enough, all i need is you”

again, i thought about it for a moment…but the truth is that if they didn’t have needs then we wouldn’t have broken up. i knew i was just as much to blame as them. they just wanted the grief to go away and would say anything to make it happen. if we got back together, id let them down again so i wrote a few short sweet sentences telling them that

“you have a lot to offer and you’ll find someone else. ill always be rooting for you. im sorry, but no”

the third time they insisted on calling. i told them I wouldn’t change my mind, but they insisted things would be better if we could talk over the phone. for 45 minutes, they repeated everything they ever said. trying to find anything that would change my mind.

“ive never felt like this before”

i tried to be gentle with them but there are only so many ways you can say

“im sorry but no”

eventually they ran out of words. they apologized and said they’d leave me alone, but ill never forget what they said before we hung up

“i wish i could’ve written this off like you did”

they thought that I had just moved on and what we had meant nothing to me i didn’t know how to explain that every time i said

“im sorry, but no”

what i really meant was

“i love you enough to let you go”

[aly4khq]

. · ˚✧ #GRAVITY'S GRACE!

ׂ╰┈➤ WHO? — caleb from l&ds

ׂ╰┈➤ WHAT? — caleb's return took a few turns, and by a few i mean a freaky amount.

ׂ╰┈➤ WARNINGS? — angst to slight!fluff to smut to fluff || fighting, arguing, sědatives, fâinting, restraints, evol usage, kissing, èating ôut, p in v, dirty talk, bondage, slight spanking, sqúírting, grínding, màrking.

ׂ╰┈➤ WORD COUNT? — 3.1K (wowzers!)

ׂ╰┈➤ WRITER'S NOTE? — guys i'm sorry for being absent for so long!! christmas and new years kicked my ass. hope that i can reward you with a small oneshot about my bestie's return.

❝ Did you honestly think I would always be the kindhearted boy in your childhood? ❞

He was back. You watched the house burst into flames and roar at you whilst blowing you away. The memories of that house now in the air, to forever be remembered. The necklace being the only thing to hold onto you, staying by your side no matter what happened.

Yet you don't believe it, you don't understand how the man himself can stand there in front of you with no signs of injury at all. His face wasn't weird...and neither was his body..so what's going on? Trying to touch him, your hands get stuck, makikg you spin your head to look behind you.

Shackles around your wrist, tightened by a weird blue jagged pattern which seemed nearly impossible to break out of. Gasping, you stared up at him, wondering why he'd ever tie you up...? He stared back at you, with a stare of absolute devastation and hurt.

"....No, stop it you died."

You stare around, bring the inner part of your mouth to try and help you snap back to reality. The pain only hurting the feelings more then intended, the thought of being perhaps hypnotised.

"I don't..."

You remember, stop lying, you always will.

-

"Since you're a grown up, I won't cover for you this time," Caleb teased, opening the door to your grandmother's house. You had both gone out in a small celebration for your return, it's been ages since you've visited your grandma and — especially — Caleb, your childhood friend.

It's been a long few years away, becoming a Deepspace Hunter and finding the time to go to your home house. As soon as you were given that opportunity, you took it without any doubt.

It was a full day of getting snacks, ordering food, walking around the city and watching the sun set together. Nostaglia filling the space in your mind the longer your hang out went. Caleb was his usual self; always cocky, teasing, mocking, yet also loving, caring and protective. He's been like that for ages, when he decided to become a pilot and have a future in airlines he got even worse.

Caleb was your closest friend, the person who you grew up with. And seeing him get so...protective when it came to that interaction in the alley made you second guess yourself. Was this really the Caleb you remember—

A deafening bang came from the right of to her body, the flames searing hot on your skin as the force of the explosion shoved you back with extreme force. "Ah!" You shrieked, falling onto the hard concrete. Nothing but concern and worry swimming in your blood as your eyes locked onto the burning house.

No sign of Grandma, no sign of Caleb. The house was burning, your memories following, your family leaving you behind to carry the burden of grief.

With a desperate grasp, you held the necklace to your chest, instantly feeling some sort of relief despite the pain surrounding your heart.

Come back, Caleb.

-

Come back Caleb....Come back Caleb....

"Come back, Caleb." You murmured, reliving that moment with tears rolling in your shocked eyes. A gloved hand reaches under your chin, lifting your stressed face upwards to stare into your eyes. It's him. No it isn't. Yes it is—

Caleb tensed at your word, the shackles loosening as you took this opportunity to remove yourself from them. You snapped your hands off of the shackles. Nearly instantly, you got up. Your hands pushed his chest as your other fist threw itself to his face. Unluckily, he managed to catch on.

His hand grabbed yours as his leg went out to kick your legs. You jumped, using your leg to strike his thigh, making Caleb let out a small groan. He took out a small baton, using the item to hit your face. A small squeak escaped your mouth as your hair draped over your face. Caleb hesitated but he did it.

Rapidly, he grabbed your hands and slammed you onto the wall to the side of the two of you. His tall frame hovering over you with nothing but anger in his eyes, he looked devilish. Yet you were fuming, betrayed and heartbroken while you continued to fight.

"Get off of me!" You yelled, your eyes watering with tears as you tried to fight whatever magic you were being controlled with. "Get off! Help! Stop!!—"

Suddenly, a familiar feeling went over your body as you saw a blue hue around you. You were so overwhelmed with emotions. Your breathing slowing down as the nostaglia feeling entered your body, you couldn't help but mumble to yourself. "What the fuck...what the—"

"What, do you not recognise me?" Caleb spoke back, his voice deepened from the last time you even heard his voice. His presence was so intimidated yet so comforting, you missed your family. You really did but the sense of unease was all that he gave you.

The tension nearly instantly deescalated, a look of understand and relaxation fighting its way to Caleb's face as he looked down at your slowly-forming traumatised face. 'Come on Caleb,' he scolded himself, 'don't scare the girl. She's traumatised.'

"You need to hear me out." He started but didn't get far before you started to fight against his evol. He couldn't help just let out a small laugh and the fact that you couldn't do anything.

"Fine, we'll have it your way."

Caleb grabbed a small needle from his inner pocket of his uniform, examining the liquid inside the tube with a focused eye. Ignoring your squirms and loud yells of begging and pleaded, he flicked the top of the needle before turning to you with a sorry gaze.

"Stay still," He ordered, his firm, big hand grasping your arm as the other hand inserted the needle and let the sedative enter your body. As you screamed and cried for him to let you go, he let out a few coos and sorrys. The cold feeling of a suspicious liquid entered your bloodstream, filling you with an uncomfortable sensation.

As soon as he finished, he removed the tube and used his finger to wipe away the blood.

The sedative worked nearly instantly, making your brain all mushy. With an unhealthy amount of fatigue building, you held onto his shoulder, trying to ground yourself against the feeling inside of you.

You began to slowly collapse into his arms, the mysterious liquid making you body turn weak with every few seconds. First your legs, then your arms, then your torso. It was a horrible feeling, like you were slowly dying. "What are...you...doing—"

"Shhh...just relax. I've got you." Caleb reassures, kneeling down with you as your body feel weak to the medicine. His hands holding you so tight that you were sure to not fall away from his grip once again. His eyes closed as he held your hand gently, his soft lips by your ear as he whispered.

"I'll be here to make you feel okay...I'll be here to give you protection, I'll be here to shield you from criminals...I'll be here to make this right again,"

His pinky finger interlocked with yours tightly, an unspoken promise.

"I promise."

When you woke up, the argument that rose was nothing that you've ever think could happen with your possible kidnapper and childhood best friend. What kind of Reddit post is this? You obviously were agitated by this — the person you've grieved and cried over for 6 months had apparently been alive all this time and was never hurt in the first place. How rude.

"Get me out of me Caleb! I don't want to be here with you alone." You snapped back, keeping a good distance between the two of you. He was dressed in a simple jumper with a familiar logo on it, matching trousers and boots. He glared at you, analysing your body from his position before closing his eyes and sighing.

"You're not going anywhere, I won't let you." His tone was rough yet it held possession, heavy possession. His arms were crossed agaisnt his chest and you could see the tension between his muscles and his jumper. Even the thick material was fighting to rip, his outline was so...arousing?

"I am." With a turn of your body, you ran towards the door with purpose. And you didn't stop running until you heard footsteps behind you. A hand grabbed your wrists and turned you around, one hand around your waist. The other hand went to your chin, softly rising your head to stare into the eyes of — surprise surprise — Caleb.

"Listen...I won't have you suffer because of me twice. I learnt my lesson the first time and I won't have them force me to make you suffer another time. Why can't you understand me?" His voice was quiet but also demanding, a sense of worry on his intimidating tone. "What else do you want me to say?"

"I want you to stop lying." You replied, your voice lowering in volume. Caleb sighed, his cologne strong as he held you closer to him. "I love you okay? I'll tell you everything just let me make things alright first."

"...I..." You scoffed, turning your head. "I don't believe you."

There was a few beats of silence before you heard a small chuckle escape his mouth, his breath on your neck. "Allow me to make you."

Slowly, his lips latched onto yours, so gentle that it surprised you. His other hand holding the back of your head softly as he used his evol to lock the door. Backing you guys up, the back of your thighs hit the soft mattress of Caleb's bed, leading you to fall over with Caleb hovering above you.

Yet the kiss never ended, your mouths moving at a fast speed as you savoured in his presence. His hands were quick, moving your head to kiss your deeper. His hips gently grinding into your mid section as he groaned into your mouth. After a few seconds, you finally pulled away, barely taking a breath before Caleb indulges you in another passionate kiss.

"...I need you..." He spoke through breaths and kisses, his mouth all over your face and neck. "...I promise...I'll explain everything once I know myself..."

Caleb slowly undresses the clothes he recent put on your body, his hand frantic whilst removing the buttons and gently pulling the shirt off. He work quickly, taking off your shorts and underwear at the same time. Caleb stares at you before lowering down to his knees, his strong hand wrapped around your thighs.

"Stay still," He demanded, feeling your legs moving. With no hesitation, Caleb latches his mouth onto your cunt, his tongue licking up and down your folds with precision. He messily made out with your pussy, groaning into your folds and savouring the taste.

Caleb's thumb moved from your thighs to your clit, rubbing soft circles onto it. You squirmed, trying to crawl away from his greed. Your hand grasping the bedsheets as you pulled away.

As soon as he saw the slightest bit of movement, he stopped you, staring up at you with a lustful gaze, slightly panting. "You better stay there before I make you stay there." His warning was small yet it held enough of a threat to keep you still — for now at least. Caleb continued to relentlessly eat you out, his tongue circling your clit in a quick succession.

"Ahh! Caleb! Please—wait! I haven't..." You let out a few pants, throwing your head back as your back met the mattress once again. Your legs rising as Caleb followed you, grinding his hips into the bed like an animal in heat. He groaned, his tongue flicking against your sensitive hole.

"Caleb! I'm gonna!—Fuck..! Slow down..!!" You begged onto deaf ears, Caleb increasing his speed. He wanted you to cum on his mouth, to release whatever stress you have onto him right now. "Cum," He breathed out, "cum on my tongue, you slut."

You gasped, finally releasing yourself onto his tongue. Your eyes closed as your hands found leverage in his hair, gripping tightly. Caleb let out a small "Fuck..." slurping up your slick with a desperate need. His hands tightened his grip on your thighs, huge hands squeezing and massaging the soft flesh of your thighs.

In less than a second, he was up, desperately pulling removing his tie. He He removed his shirt, seductively sliding his belt through the loops and removing his trousers. Caleb grabbed your shoulder, pushing you onto your stomach with a kiss on your back. You felt a smooth material go over your wrists, tying your arms behind your back in a secure grip. His tie.

"...Caleb you freak..." You murmured, a small amount of shock on your face which soon tuned to pleasure when you felt him line up his dick to your entrance. Your eyes opened as you felt the sheer thickness of his cock on your pussy. You tried look behind you and see what he was doing yet a firm unseen force held your head forward, "I warned you."

Caleb pressed his hips against yours, instantly filling you with that huge cock of his. The sudden feeling of him so far inside of you made you breathless, squirming against his tie. Your eyes opened wide, your mouth letting out a loud moan as he held your hips down with his hands.

"...You better brace yourself, I'm not holding back anymore." A hard thrust followed after, striking you deep and fast. His speed was merciless, his hips hitting yours with a heavy force. Your mouth couldn't even form a sentence, just mumbles and chopped words escaping from the pleasure of the man behind you.

Caleb didn't even think about the consequences of his actions, just having you close to him made him loose control. His hands pushed you back onto his cock, matching with his already slapping hips. The sounds of skin slapping echoed in your ears as you moaned out for him.

"You filthy girl...this pussy was just waiting for me to breed it hm? Is that what you want? Is that what you fucking want?" Caleb's hand struck your left ass cheek, his hand grasping your skin on impact. He spread open your cheeks, spitting where you were connected to make it even more wet for him. You nodded, moaning, "Yes C-Caleb! Yessss!!! Oh my!—" You cried, trying to figure out how to deal with this large amount of feelings in your lower half.

Caleb slapped your flesh once more, not holding back on his strength at all. Your brown skin nearly instantly blooming with a soft red hue. "So gorgeous...I won't let you go, not again."

Caleb lowered to your face, still thrusting into your wet cunt with purpose. "You can't bring yourself to hate me with every finer being in your body...can't you?" He mocked, staring at your fucked out face with an evil grin. You tried to answer, but you were apparently too late in his eyes.

Another slap landed on your right cheek, and another followed — harder than the last. "Answer me," He ordered, holding your hip. With struggle, you hummed back, "Hmm! I d-don't h-hate you! Oh Caleb, I can't do this..." With a few more thrusts, Caleb could feel you tightening around his hefty cock.

He let out a soft hiss, kissing your neck with gentle intention. "You gonna cum?" He asked with a softer tone, his hands rubbing up and down your sides.

Nodding, your mouth hung heavy. "I'm cumming..! I'm cumming Caleb!"

That intense feeling of letting that growing pleasure in your stomach go was so satisfying. Your moans loud as you stuffed your head into the pillows below you. Your legs shook as your orgasm rode out, Caleb still thrusting into your wet, sloppy pussy. He soon came after you, filling you up with a mixture of both you and his cum. The feeling of him filling you was enough to make you squirm more, whining at the feeling of being full.

After a few beats of silence, Caleb slapped your backside one more, rubbing the sore skin afterwards. "I'll rather hear you as well as feel you next time...but I'll let you go this time round."

You laid there, fucked out and fatigued whilst Caleb stood up, his dick slipping out of your cunt. "You're absolutely gorgeous..."

Caleb pressed soft kisses to your body, rubbing the bruises on your hips and untying your wrists. You felt that tension on your head go as he removed his evol, his hands rubbing your neck.

"I love you...I promise you that." He whispered. His whole intimidating and aggressive demeanour had disappeared somehow. But when you looked into his eyes, you finally saw him. That same boy from your childhood. Your best friend had sprung back to life despite all the trouble you both had gone through.

You replied, to the best of your standards, "...Pinky...?" Your voice was soft and also vulnerable, melting Caleb's heart.

He let out a small chuckle, holding your face towards him and locking it in with a kiss. "Pinky."

Caleb gave you a passionate kiss on the lips, holding your face with gentle fingers. He pulled away after a short time, laughing at your marked body. You let out a small giggle, "I didn't know you had that in you Caleb..."

"Neither did I, until I met you."

© aly4khq, do not plagiarise, translate or copy any of my work. 12/01/25

[djarindroid]

Barely Surviving

Pairing: Thanos (Choi Su-Bong) x Reader

Summary: An unexpected connection in the games challenges your will to keep going.

Warnings: Usual Squid Game stuff, drugs, depression, suicidal thoughts. Thanos is definitely ooc in some places

Word Count: 2,331

Comments: I hope you like this! 💕 I haven't written in a while but watching Squid Game I knew I had to do something for Thanos. I already have a rough idea for a part 2...

The past few days had been the worst of your life. You were told that you’d just be playing a few games with a chance to win some money to pay off your debt. No one mentioned that your life, and so many others’, would be on the line. How someone could subject others to this was beyond you.

After the second game you’d retreated back to the dormitories with the group you’d managed to survive with. Despite banding together you still felt hopelessly alone, wanting nothing more than to go home and forget any of this had happened.

But how could you forget? How could you forget all the people you’d seen die? How could you forget the feeling of warm blood splattering across your face? How could you ever forget this feeling of guilt? Guilt that you were still standing whilst so many others had fallen.

You sat at the back of your bunk, knees drawn up, whilst your hands trembled in front of you. 

Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the other players, some sat in groups, some picking at the remnants of the food handed out moments ago, and then your eyes landed on him.

Player 230, Choi Su-Bong or Thanos as he had introduced himself. His bright purple hair wasn’t the only thing making him stand out. He was leaning casually, his expression detached and seemingly completely unfazed. As if he wasn’t affected by the terror surrounding him.

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers clenched and unclenched as you tried to gather some courage. Maybe you should just stay on your bunk, try and let this wave of hopelessness pass on its own. But no matter how much you told yourself, the deep ache in your chest refused to subside.  

Finally, you managed to push yourself to your feet, making your way across the room. Your footsteps felt too loud, echoing around you as you walked. A few players briefly glanced at you before turning away, uninterested in what you were doing. You heard the small voice in the back of your head, telling you to turn around, but you kept going, driven by a desperation to feel nothing.

As you approached you watched as player 124, who was sitting on the floor near Thanos, nudged his leg, nodding his head towards you. Thanos instantly perked up, a cocky smirk taking over his face. 

‘Hey girl,’ he cooed as you got close. ‘Did you wanna come join the Thanos world?’ He crossed his arms over his chest as he deliberately looked you up and down

Your stomach twisted, hearing player 124 snicker at what had been said. You pushed forward regardless. ‘I was just hoping… I know you have… Could I…’ You tried and failed multiple times to get the words out, your cheeks burned hotter at each failed attempt. You felt so foolish, so small, and Thanos’ response didn’t help with your nerves. 

‘Aw look, the pretty girl is nervous to talk to me,’ he said with a mocking pout. ‘Don’t be señorita,’ he stepped forward, bending down to your eye level whilst invading your personal space. ‘I don’t bite,’ he added with another smirk.

Your hands trembled more, you shoved them into your pockets to try and still them. Of course this had been a bad idea, but you desperately wanted to stop this feeling, the seemingly bottomless pit inside you threatening to swallow you whole. You knew Thanos had what you needed. 

‘I know you have something in your necklace,’ you murmured, voice barely audible. You kept your gaze fixed on the floor, avoiding his eyes. ‘I…I just want to stop feeling like this.’

He sighed and straightened himself, ‘you know I have something huh?’ He shook his head before carrying on, ‘I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.’ He shooed you away dismissively with his hand as he said ‘go on, go back to your side.’

Panic rose in you, quick and suffocating. No. You couldn’t take no for an answer. You couldn’t take it anymore. Every waking moment was a nightmare, and even in sleep, the images of people being shot haunted you. Your breath quickened, you’d managed to get the courage to come over here, you couldn’t let yourself go back still feeling like this.

Your knees were ready to buckle but you managed to stand straighter. ‘Please,’ you whispered as you finally looked into his eyes. You tried to convey everything in that one word, every ounce of fear and despair you were feeling as you repeated it again. ‘Please.’

His gaze pinned you in place, and for just a second you thought you saw his expression falter, maybe a flicker of pity. For that brief moment you thought he might actually listen, that he might offer you what you were asking for.

But as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. He looked you up and down once more, his tone flat as he said, ‘you don’t want what I have.’ You opened your mouth to argue but he held his finger up to your lips. ‘Save your breath, the answers no. Go back over there.’ 

The finality in his tone hit you like a slap. Your chest tightened as you watched him turn his back to you. A lump in your throat appeared and you fought back the tears threatening to spill. You quickly lowered your head, hiding your face from the room as you scurried back to your bed.

Thanos, settled into the spot beside Nam-Gyu, he let his gaze linger briefly on your retreating figure. You looked so hopeless, curling into yourself on your bed. His smirk faded slightly and the edges of his eyes softened.

Was it guilt he felt? He wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the uncomfortable weight of knowing you’d looked to him for help in such a way. For a moment he’d almost given in, but he knew what he had wasn’t the answer for someone like you. Still, he couldn’t shake the memory of the way you’d whispered to him, it clung to him heavily as he forced himself to pay attention to whatever the people around him were saying.

By some miracle you had survived through most of the third game, aided by the chaos of other people scrambling to reach the correct numbers before sprinting towards the doors surrounding the room. You hadn’t earned your survival this time, it had been handed to you by those more ruthless.

You dragged yourself back to the centre platform, the others that had used you to make up the required amount already abandoning you.The smell of blood hung thick in the air, making your stomach turn. How many more rounds would this drag on for? How many more bodies would be carted off in boxes before this finished?

You glanced down at your shoes, once bright white, now smeared in others' blood. The platform beneath you began to turn again, but the spinning in your head was worse. You knew you should have been paying attention to what number was going to be called, but what was the point? You’d only been a spare this entire game, why bother to start looking for people now?

‘TWO,’ the number was called and people immediately began shouting and dragging each other off. Time slowed down for you as you stood frozen to the spot. You had no one. There wasn’t a single person around you that didn’t already have a partner. Today would be the day, you thought. Tears welled in your eyes, though you weren’t sure if you were sad or relieved that this hell would be over for you.

Then, out of nowhere, a strong arm wrapped around your waist and yanked you forward. You stumbled, heart pounding in your ears, as you attempted to keep up with whoever had grabbed you. You could barely register what was happening, but then you saw the flash of his purple hair. 

Thanos?! 

There was no time to question why he’d chosen you, he had you, and the two of you were nearing one of the rooms. As you approached, another player lunged for you, trying to shove you out of the way and take your place. Thanos didn’t hesitate, he kicked the stranger hard, sending them flying to the ground. His grip on you tightened as he practically shoved you through the door with only seconds to spare. 

The door locked behind you, you’d made it. Relief washed over you, but it was fleeting, overshadowed but the sound of gunshots and screams outside. Your legs faltered and you collapsed against the far wall. Thanos remained by the door, his body blocking the view as he watched the aftermath through the small window.

You should thank him, you knew you should. He’d saved you, pulling you from the edge of defeat. But the words wouldn’t come, all you could do was sink to the floor, and wrap your arms around your knees. You’d both made it to the end of the third game. You were alive. So why did you still feel nothing?

Thanos slid down the wall beside you, he rested his arms on his knees and kept his gaze ahead. ‘How come you froze up out there? Don't you have anyone here?’ 

You thought for a moment, debating telling him at this point you’ve accepted your fate so why prolong it. You tapped your fingers on your knees anxiously as you searched for an answer that didn’t let him know how badly you’d given up. ‘I didn’t want to be a burden,’ you muttered. ‘I just..I thought I would wait.’

He let out a short laugh, ‘good thing I waited too then, huh? Without me you’d be out there in one of those boxes.’ He nudged your shoulder lightly, as if he was joking with you but there was no humour in this situation.

You didn’t respond, your eyes caught sight of him idly playing with the cross that hung around his neck, the chain snaking around his fingers. When he tilted his head towards you, his eyes met yours and you saw the dilation in his pupils, evidence of whatever high he’d been on to get through this.

For a moment, he seemed to study you, though his expression was unreadable. The intensity of his gaze made you feel as though he was trying to read your mind. ‘I wasn’t gonna leave you out there,’ he said finally, his voice calmer. ‘Couldn’t watch you just give up like that.’

You blinked at him and before you could stop yourself you were asking, ‘why do you care?’

He shrugged, briefly glancing away before meeting your eyes again. ‘Honestly? I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘Maybe I feel like you need protecting, and maybe I thought I could be the one to do that.’ 

You chuckled at that, though there was no humour in your laughter. ‘Do I really look that pathetic?’ 

He seemed taken aback. 'Someone had to step in,’ he replied bluntly. ‘You were just gonna let yourself lose.’

‘Maybe I wanted to lose.’ You snapped. ‘You don’t owe me anything so don’t bother protecting me. I’m not worth it.’

He took a moment to really look at you, leaning in slightly with an uncharacteristically serious tone he asked, ‘is that really what you think?’

Your breath hitched. The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over and you buried your face into your hands.  ‘I just… I can’t take this anymore.’ you choked out. ‘This place, it’s not worth the money. I don’t care anymore, I just don’t want to be here.’

The weight of your despair hung heavily around you, your shoulders shook as you continued to sob. The emotions you’d managed to keep at bay flooding out all at once. Thanos remained silent for a moment, before lightly resting his hand on your shoulder.

‘Listen,’ his tone was softer than you thought possible. ‘This place screws with you, you already know what I’ve been doing to get through.’ He tapped his necklace briefly. ‘But there’s life after this place, so you’ve gotta keep trying, until your last breath.’

You moved your face away from your hands to once again look up at him. He exhaled slowly as he looked at your tear stained face. He carefully took your face in his hands and wiped away the tears. 

The tenderness in his touch was almost overwhelming, a sharp contrast to how you expected him to be. For a brief moment you allowed yourself to indulge in his touch. Through all of his flaws Thanos was showing you a different side, something real. The way he had moved revealed the blue O badge attached to his jacket. You briefly glanced at it.

‘Urgh fine,’ he said with a dramatic sigh, catching your look at the badge. ‘If I vote to leave this time will you stop crying.’ His head flopped to the side as he threw on a fake pout.

You couldn’t stop the weak laugh that escaped you at his theatrics. His small attempt to lighten your mood worked, if only a little. You nodded ‘yeah, I’ll stop crying.’

‘Good, pretty girls shouldn’t cry like that.’ He smirked. 

The sound of the door unlocking suddenly caught both of your attention, bringing you back to the present. He stood, holding his hand out to you which you gladly accepted. His grip was steady, grounding, and for the first time since entering this hell you didn’t feel completely alone.

‘Come on,’ he said, pulling you to your feet.  ‘Let’s get you outta here señorita.’ 

As you both walked towards the door the weight of everything you’d been through still lingered but something had shifted. You started to let yourself believe that you could keep going, maybe you weren’t completely broken after all. And the strangest part? It was Thanos who had given that to you.

[tojisun]

price catches it first — that whiff spreading in the den, clogging up his throat like ratafia. it makes him pause, words failing him now, and he snaps his jaw shut at the start of a rumble pulsing from his chest.

he turns just as the others do, watching as you rub on your throat and grumble to yourself. it is bare, the first it’s ever been since you’ve arrived at the base, and his eyes drop to your collar in wonder.

he’s heard of those before — collars that conceal scents. they’ve become a privilege, not quite a necessity, so only a few are found with them. still, rarer are those who would wear them for hours on end, and in the base, you happened to be the only one to do so.

intriguing, if not at least worrying, because price had seen your file. you’re an alpha. an alpha prime, it seemed, based on your presentation records, and yet you came to him with a collar on your throat and your scent heavily suppressed. he didn’t ask, this is not the line of work where one can, and just demanded for your loyalty and skill.

so this is the first that they’re smelling of you. it is overwhelming, like all other alpha scents usually are, but it curls at the end. sweet but burnt. crackling firewood and smoke. it is pleasant but not just; like at every turn, there has to be something that gives. something unexpected; something unusual.

john breathes in sharply, his muscles going taut underneath the fatigues when he realizes what it is. the rest of the squad follow — they sit up straighter, their shoulders drawn higher, and their scents rap against each other, mixing in dizzying blends. the den becomes packed with worry, apprehension, horror, anger, protectiveness, protectiveness, protectiveness.

still, you only look at them with a cocked brow, daring them to go. to speak of what it is weighing down on their tongues.

it is kyle to do so. kyle who you trust more than anyone else.

“you’ve been bitched.”

he says it with no malice, but just as a fact rolling off his tongue, one that makes your fingers twitch while your face stays frozen, still a mask of normalcy. of measured strength and quiet fortitude.

“i have,” you reply, also void of emotion. any other day he would commend the control you have of your emotions to not even let it slip into your scent, especially after having relied on your collar so much, but tonight isn’t the right time. tonight, john’s mind swirls, his tongue heavy with the things he wants to say.

so he tries.

“was it—”

you blink at him. then, you laugh. “oh! yes, of course. i wanted it.”

your reply fills him up, stuffing him with cotton. he realizes that your tension was of worry; you were afraid that they would judge you. and john feels lighter, elated and calm now, but also he feels disjointed, like he is floating, and john, he–

he tries.

he tries not to imagine the weight of your words. he tries not to give them shape. but his mind is faster than his conscience, and john now thinks of you, alpha prime, begging for another alpha to turn you. to fill you up and drown your scent glands with their own before gnawing on your skin. biting. biting. biting. until it takes root, upending every fibre within you to make room for the submission. for the delicateness. for the heat.

john’s thoughts only grind to a halt when the new scent is snuffed out from the room, extinguished in its entirety, leaving no trail. his eyes find you fastening the collar on your neck again, your roughened fingers unlatching the buckle to loop the leather.

he swallows like he is a man parched, but his throat only grows dryer. there is nothing for him to feast on.

it goes by so slowly; your familiarity with the collar does not aid you in fastening its loose end, and john wonders if you might need help, after all. only, just as the question is building on the tip of his tongue, he realizes what you’re doing.

what teases you are leaving.

“so,” you say like you have not just presented an opportunity for them to latch onto. “can i be dismissed?”

john hums his ascent, and ends the meeting for tonight. they watch as you gather your files before waltzing away with only the sound of your boots following you. the rest of the squad stays, awashed by the… offering.

because it was everything and that.

it was a proof of your trust, and a question of their own, one that john knows that they will eagerly prove to you. but it was also an invitation; a revelation and now a question.

john watches the way simon’s knuckles turn white as he balls his hands into fists and wonders if his boys would allow him to be the first to you.

——

this is nothing and everything alike; experimenting on omegaverse in hopes that i’ll get out of my slump </3

[nerdyydragon]

Also notable: I rarely see anyone say this about, like, romance movies (at least in earnest; there are soooo many other discourses about romance as a genre, but this isn't one I've seen).

Nobody says "noooo, don't go into the quaint little small-town café, Miss New York Businesswoman Protagonist! No, you're so goddamned dumb for talking to the guy who literally collided with you walking in the door!! You're so effing stupid for allowing him to pick up the papers you dropped!

Nobody says "Character is ridiculous for not trying to avoid freezing to death by huddling for warmth in the cabin!"

Nobody says "but they should know better!" about romance plots, unless it's some "love thine enemy" thing where logically the character should know better than to fall in love with the tragic, handsome villain who just tried to have them killed/kidnapped/dethroned/etc., but even then. The characters in a romance plot don't somehow miraculously know they're in a romance, they just know that they've encountered a [charming stranger] [mysterious rival] [new understanding of their childhood bestie] [any and all trope pairings that apply] and that, as they go about their day, Shit Happens. Compared to other genres it might be comparably low-stakes because nobody's in danger of getting stabbed (maybe, who knows, it could happen), but they don't posses foreknowledge of the events because they're not aware that this sequence of events is something like "A Duke for the Holidays" instead of "just another goddamned Tuesday".

We know.

We're supposed to know.

While part of me rails against an easy reliance on trope marketing, primarily when it supersedes any and all notions of telling me what the gods-damned book is about, as an audience we are, consciously or otherwise, aware of tropes and trends and patterns. We know, as the audience, that in a small-town romance film Miss New York Businesswoman Protagonist is going to break up with her boyfriend who never has time for her and shack up with the hunky father of two who works as a conservationist for a near-extinct, totally-not-made-up species of butterfly that only reproduces every six years under the light of a falling star, or something*. That's how the plot works.

Half the fun is figuring out how it happens.

Half the scare is figuring out how it happens, because horror, like romance, has a pretty defined end (though it isn't always death, but that's pretty clear from the beginning when that's the case).

I'm a spec-fic author. I'm working on a gothic sci-horror novel that, in its alpha stages, has scared the bejesus out of my reader to the point where she thinks the monster is going to appear in her house. She keeps feeling like she's being watched. We're 2/3 of the way through and she's paranoid to the point where she can't actually read the thing for long stretches of time even if she desperately wants to. I also write fantasy, and there are tropes and expectations that I rely on there, as well. But gods, I'm so tired of people (beyond the half-terror under a blanket "no, don't go in there!!!" response, without acknowledging that it must happen) not applying the same logic to horror protagonists as they do to those of other genres. They're not dumb.

Horror isn't dumb.

It's profoundly, utterly human in its terror.

And to the main point of the post: nothing Jonathan Sims (Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London) could have done would have averted the ending to his story. He's a brilliant mind cracking under strain, attempting to wrangle forces well beyond human comprehension that prey on his being a brilliant mind attempting to wrangle them. The Entities, on occasion, give him what he wants. He learns. He grows.

Until he becomes a monster himself.

There are so many versions of the story, littered with alternate choices and voltas and changes in patterns. "No" instead of "yes" that eventually becomes "yes", anyway, because it has to.

A big-city businesswoman, visiting her aging father for Christmas, walks into a coffee shop and runs headlong into her widowed highschool sweetheart after years away.

A gallant knight, stripped of his armour, raises a sword to protect the princess and slay the dragon.

A PI cracks a cold-case that's been haunting the local police for years after they stumble on new evidence, almost by accident.

Almost by a miracle.

A brave starship captain lays down their life to save an entire planet, millions of lives, because it is right, and at the last second is retrieved by advanced technology created by a society that cares.

Jonathan Sims does the best he can with the information he has, and he almost makes it out in the end.

Until he doesn't.

There is no other version of the story.

----

*I was being mostly facetious in this claim but a part of me actually really wants a low-stakes cozy romantasy in this setting. I can't write that type of stake to save my life (even my fanfiction has to have something life-threatening, so no butterflies for me) so if that prompt strikes your fancy, feel free to steal it and modify however needed. Just... let me know if you ever finish it.

JONATHAN ARCHIVIST IS NOT STUPID SQUAD I WILL ALWAYS BE WITH YOU

[tinythebunni]

thinking about overstimulating Clark Kent!

Clark had always been strict with his morals. he knew what was wrong and right and tried very hard not to stray from that path. he wouldn’t even kill a spider in his room, simply letting it out the window and onto a tree. i guess you could say he was a goody two shoes.

He’s been used to girls fawning over him but he never paid much attention. he feared what would happen if someone noticed his inhuman like abilities. or what if he got too excited kissing someone and he accidentally lasered their eyes out?

Clark kept to himself and never tried to date. it was as if he was uninterested in it entirely.

you took this as a challenge though. you met him at the daily planet, around end of March. you were a cute little thing, almost 5’11, his ideal height for a girlfriend. he loved the tall girls as he himself was almost 6’6.

dressed in pink and white skimpy outfits, heels that could break someone’s neck, and a glare comparable to his heat vision. everything about you made him nervous. he couldn’t figure out why you had this effect on him, but he knew he needed to stay away from you. before he broke his own rules.

you always said hai to him and batted your lashes in a way that would make his cheeks flush and his dick twitch is his oh so cute slacks!

he couldn’t seem to get away from the overwhelming smell of your vanilla cupcake perfume and the slight smell of arousal that came from you everytime he was around.

it was like you were his own personal nightmare.

it took around 3 month for him to crack, for him to finally say yes to your dates that always had an innuendo to them. he couldn’t tell though, he thought maybe if he went on a date with you that it would end his torment. but he was so wrong.

—————-

“wait, p-please slow down! fuck-i can’t take it!!“ he moaned out, forehead slick with sweat. you had Clark undressed , with only his tie and white socks on. he looked so cute and innocent like this.

you were riding him, your cunt gripping him like a vice. you could feel his balls hitting your ass as you bounced up and down, the feeling only spurring you on more.

his heels were digging into the mattress of the shitty motel room you dragged him to. with each movement of your hips he seemed to slide down further on the bed, but your feet kept him grounded there, making sure he didn’t fall.

“i can’t, bunny please! f-fuck needyouneedyou” he whimpered out through moans, his hands trying to lift you off of him. you moved your hand to rest on his neck, your perfectly manicured claws forcing him to lay back down. he didn’t notice the strange amount of strength you had, nor the way your eyes flashed white for a second. “stop trying to run from me clarkie! jus-oh god, take it like a good boy. i know you can.”

the smile you gave him seemed almost sinister, as you sped up and kept him down. he cried out, hopelessly trying to pry you off him and keep you close all at the same time. you leaned down and licked the sheen off his chest, taking your time over his pink raw nipples.

his tongue lolled out his mouth, eyes glazing over and body getting increasingly more and more warm. your hand reached down to grip his balls in grip almost painful to him, tugging and massaging as he writhed underneath you. moaning out pleas that fell on deaf ears, he came inside of you, plugging you up nice and full.

he thought you’d finally stop, he’d already came 3 times and he was sure he had nothing left in him, but you leaned down, muffling his moans that slowly turned into wails. “waitwait! i came, mmm pl-please i can’t! it hurts! gimme a break, jus 5 minutes!” the overstimulation had him turning dumb. mind fuzzy in ways that only he knew kryptonite could do. it was almost supernatural.

you pulled him up into a sitting position, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer, you kept fucking him deeper and deeper inside of you, chasing your own release. your hands were surely leaving dents in his back with how sharp your nails were.

shaking and spasming, you looked at him with blown pupils and a wicked smile, staring him in the eyes before you bite into his neck as you came all over him.

he was scared, understandably, as no one usually was able to penetrate his skin, but that was taken over by the immense amount of pleasure he felt after the bite. the slight warmth as you let go and kept grinding yourself down on him, overstimulating yourself. he looked down at were you were connected and saw the creamy white ring around his cock, dripping down his balls. he finally came for the last time with a dying out moan as he blacked out.

————————

when he finally came to, he was back in his apartment, in a nice robe clean and perfectly manicured, as if last night never happened. the only indication that it did? the mark on his neck and the note you left for him.

“i enjoyed last night, ill see you at work superboy! oh, and make sure to cover up that bite, don’t want anyone asking questions do you?”

[spiderlilypetals]

Hey, so, fun little reminder to the people that want to insult Sylus, Xavier, Rafayel, and Zayne lovers who are also really excited for Caleb's return.

Do everyone in the fandom a huuuuge favor and keep your damn comments to yourself. Need we remind you that this is an Otome game? You can like only one guy, OR, you can like multiple guys. It doesn't make you unfaithful, it doesn't mean you're cheating on your current LI.

Oh, yeah, just because someone's changing their layout, theme, etc from their other LI to Caleb doesn't mean they don't like their current LI(s) or are dropping them. Quit assuming.

Someone can stick with one LI, others have multiple LIs who truly fit them more than others. What does any of that have to do with remaining faithful when the game is legit catered to having all the LIs romancing you?

As a Sylus girlie, who had been a Rafayel girlie (and this fucker will always have a special place in my heart) who has also been waiting for Caleb's return, I'm legit doing nothing wrong but enjoying the game and what is being offered to us. And I can assure you the same applies to the other LADS enjoyers here as well.

Even then, so what if someone dips from another LI to be focused on a different one? Shit happens, things change, but don't be an asshole about it just to make people feel bad for it. Again, it's a game, but a game that ultimately brings people comfort, don't be a little shit and ruin that for them.

Let people play the game how they want to. Let them like whoever they want to. They're free to do so, and being a decent person in the fandom doesn't cost you anything.

And, I don't know... maybe find a better hobby instead of hating on Caleb lovers or those who have an LI, but are clearly enjoying and are excited for Caleb's return as an LI (finally). Because being a hater doesn't get you paid. 🤷🏻‍♀️ Do better.

[hoseoksluna]

— WIP 𐙚 test run | jjk

pairing: longterm!boyfriend!jungkook x f. reader

genre: smut

rating: 18+

about: due to your adult responsibilities, you haven't sucked your boyfriend's dick in a long time, and it shows.

word count: 0.826

note: i started writing this breeding kink fic super late in the week and because i haven't finished it yet, i'm at least posting a smutty wip for you, my babies. i can't leave you starving on a sunday! big kisses mwah.

context: reader is having a bath. prior this scene, they may or may not talked about having a baby. jungkook came back from work horny. (that's all i can say without spoiling the entire thing skfjlsfjlsfsl. it's vague and simple on purpose, the fic has a different plot i promise).

warnings: stomach kisses, blowjob, male masturbation, jungkookie rubs his dickie in reader's face, he low-key degrades her but softly and lovingly.

taglist | join here: @jjk7k, @tkslovechild, @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl, @ririkookiemonster, 

@perfectiondazesworld, @https-mei, @bangtansonyeondanue, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, 

@hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk, @parkinglot-nights, @sadgirlroo

You freed him from his pants. His cock springs in your face, bringing about your drool. You haven’t seen him in the light for quite some time. Your intimacy with him dwells more in the darkness beneath the covers due to adulthood duties, but in the past—when you were still in school, you both used to fuck like rabbits during the day because there was nothing else to do and the sexual attraction was all-too-consuming. It seems as though the test run is changing it, metamorphosing it back to the way it was, so you could devour fistfuls of it before your intertwined life levels up with the baby. 

Everything happens for a reason, huh. 

When Jungkook stands motionless, the material of his hoodie covering the delicious patch of hair that you want to see, you shoot him a playful dirty look. He blushes in response and you catch his hands trembling as he lifts them to the back of the neckline, ridding himself of the outerwear. He lets it plop to the floor, red in the face, stepping out of his sweats. 

Bare, both of you. Emotionally and physically. 

Your mouth latches onto the carved out muscle next to his belly button, swirling circles on that special zone, so terribly impatient and hungry for him. Jungkook doubles over, groaning, the spot you’re making love to secretly sensitive, and if there’s anything you love more in this world other than him, it’s secrecy. Doing things in secret with him. Not telling anyone. Finding things undiscovered on his body that he learns he likes. That type of shit. 

You were just a twenty year old girl when you brought this sensitivity to light. 

His cock twitches on your neck, hardening even more. Out of your peripheral view, you can see him folding his fist around his girth, moving up and down as you descend lower and lower, scattering rough, wet kisses like you scattered the blossoms beneath you. You can’t take your eyes off of it; him pleasuring himself intoxicates you and you missed it. 

You missed it so fucking much.

“Fuck, I love it when you do that,” you exclaim, your mouth leaping over to the side base of his cock, trailing your tongue from there all the way up to his fist. Jungkook hisses, and the sound melts into a moan once he feels your tongue. 

And it’s like you returned his dominance to him by that gesture. 

Taking you by your jaw, he pushes your mouth down onto his cock, but you keep your eyes on his face. While your clit throbs even more energetically by the intrusion, Jungkook throws his head back, his noises becoming louder and louder the more you suck in your cheeks around him—because that’s all you’re able to do. It’s him who sets the pace, who moves your head up and down on him, and when the ecstasy pulls him under, he looks down at you with gritted teeth, growls because you’re watching him. And it’s at this moment that you gag around him. 

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes out deeply, prolonging the first vowel that penetrates you and teases your clit. His chest heaves as he struggles to take the overpowering delight without bursting in your mouth. “We haven’t done this in so long. Can I fuck your mouth?” You’re dazed, too dazed by the severity of the moment and the beauty of him to respond, by the horniness that overtakes you. Jungkook circles your head on his tip, your tongue following the movement around him, and he loses it. He completely and utterly loses it. “You can’t talk, can you? My poor baby has a mouth full of cock.”

It’s not by your own will that you let out such a squeaky moan—you can’t really help it. It vibrates around him, causing him to whimper and tuck his lips under his teeth, rolling his eyes back. Panting hard, he pulls himself out of you, and you know that is the telltale sign that he’s close. His cock that hovers above your face drools, his red mushroom head reaching your hairline, and your eyes go cross, taking in the size of him as if you’ve never seen him before.

Strangely, everything about this suggests everything pure and new and you’re drunk. Drunk on it all, swaying in the milky pink water while the blossoms brush against your needy feminine parts. And his cock. Jungkook brushes his cock on your face, letting his precum drip onto your forehead, which then rolls down the side plane of your temples. You’re hot all over. He’s never done this before; you’ve never felt the weight of him like this. It connects you to him in a deeper way that your brain is able to comprehend at this moment.

“You want it, baby? You want Oppa to use you like that before he puts a baby in you, hm?” 

Your eyes go cross again.

© 2025 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

WIP masterlist

[silentsuffering]

Sometimes I wonder if this is true for me and my ex partner. But then I remember how softly he loved me and how severely he broke down when a third party got involved in our relationship, creating problems with her at the center and persuading us both that we each other are at the center of them with conflicting information and playing the victim.

We hurt each other SO much over crap an outsider told us. Instead of being a team and fighting together against her. I was hurt by him that way. And people try to tell me he's a bad person for it. But you know what? I think it's hypocritical and toxic that when I go to help-spaces I get bombarded with this. I did this to him as well. "Yes, but you recognized it and tried to fix it and he didn't" is the standard answer I get, when I point that out. And you know what? That's infuriating. Of course he didn't. He was manipulated. He was subjected to intense psychological abuse and gaslighting, just as much as me. He's a victim to that and it's not his fault and he's not a bad person for the fact that it's so intense that he struggles to see through it. Why on earth is it so hard for people to address the real problem? A woman who abused two people and with the goal to destroy their relationship out of jealousy? How is that his fault? People tell me it's "a tale as old as time" - yes well, he never cheated on me and never got together with her after we broke up. They're still friends, because she has him in her grasp and made me the scapegoat. She's a narcissist. That's a normal thing for a narcissistic abuser to do. Why can't I get help anywhere, when my situation is: Me and my man were abused by a woman? Why is everyone trying to villainize my ex partner to me? How is that helpful at all for my situation or in any way better than that woman villainizing me to him?

And these are structural issues. This happens. This is a real big problem. I have real mental health issues as the consequence to real abuse. So does he probably. But already while it was happening and I was looking for help to stop it, I couldn't find it anywhere. I only found blame for my partner. Which amplified the methodic gaslighting my abuser practiced to make me believe my partner had bad intentions for me. It was not helpful. It was harmful. I encountered that in so many self-proclaimed safe spaces and spaces that deal with narcissistic abuse. And I'm just so tired. I feel like I'm on the run since a year. I can't find a place to settle down and tell my story where it will simply be accepted for what it is, without people trying to rewrite the reality of my experience in some way to blame the "evil man".

He's autistic. He's struggling with schizophrenia. He's had a rough childhood. He's been gentle and vulnerable due to his conditions. And somebody took advantage of all that. Somebody took advantage of a disabled person. Just as that same person did with me.

So my ex partner and me were equals in a situation where both he and I fell victim to a person with bad intentions. My ex partner did not somehow automatically turned evil when we had problems in our relationship happening or broke up. I had just as much and as little part in that as he and most of it was caused by a much bigger issue, an abuser.

Obviously this doesn't go for all people. It has nothing to do with this post and it hasn't wronged me, nor has anyone connected to it. But it upsets me that sometimes I wonder about this, because SO much gaslighting has happened, not only by my abuser, but it's been amplified by places and people I turned to for help. And I'm so exhausted from that.

“It wasn't love, just heavy manipulation.”

— r.h. Sin

[thisisjustfanfic]

Touch

Drabbles of the LADS Men

{SFW & NSFW}

(Done as writing warmup)

Xavier:

Touch for him is either all or nothing. Like a door locked up tight. At first there is nothing. No touch except for the most chaste and innocent brushes. Nothing that could ever be considered anything more than professional or courteous.

Once that door opens though? Once he feels safe to open up? There's no going back. He's a leech. A little tick in your skin that you'd have to cut the head off of to get rid of at this point.

There's no question of his feelings once that damn breaks, though his mouth might not always give him away- his hands do.

A hand at your waist, or holding your hands. A tether tying the drifting ship at sea to the anchor of you.

He can still maintain professionalism while you're working, but the touches linger. They hold tighter, forcing you still until he can make sure you're unharmed. He touches your waist a lot, holding you in place or maneuvering you where he wants.

Kisses are sweet but moving. A slow dance as even the lightest peck lures him in. The feel of your lips a dangerous drug for him. Even a tiny hit is enough to make him wild.

NSFW

Xavier is the least concerned about PDA (outside of work of course). He doesn't care if people see him hold you. If he get's weird looks when he uses the anchor of his hand on your hip to pull you through a crowd. Or if someone happens to pass by the greenhouse window when you're laid out for him among the greenery.

His admiration for how easily he can move you around really shows itself when you're intimate. His hand in you hair, guiding you up and down his cock. He's not forceful, but he his firm. You don't move without his guidance.

He'll kiss you anywhere. Anywhere he can reach. Whatever skin that might be closest is where he'll drag his lips, nipping at you until you jump. The way you respond to his touch is dizzying. The fact that its him doing it is addictive.

He'd spend a lot of time letting his hands roam. Like they're restless. Dragging his fiongers up and down your body, skating over the places you want him unti your trembling. Begging rarely works- he likes the sound of it too much to stop.

Zayne:

Zayne is frugal with physical touch at first. Almost shy. To him, there is no rush. No need for desperation when there's all the time in the world.

He's fond of little caresses. A brush of the hair. A slide of the back of your hands against one another. Like flint and steel, striking to cause tiny infinitesimal sparks.

Before you're together, touch is reserved to necessity only. Examinations are one of them. Though neither one of you clues the other in to how much those touches entice the other. You feel ashamed for liking the touch of your doctor, and your doctor berates himself for how much he likes touching his patient.

Once together though, things aren't that different on the outside. It comes as a shock to those around the two of you because Zayne doesn't seem to act any different around you.

Alone though, he's a magnet. He might not reach out and touch, but he likes to be close. Sitting with legs pressed together, shoulders touching. If he can get away with it, you in his lap. It feels like to parts of a whole, sliding back into place.

Kissing him is either sweet and light, or dark and devouring. He's either the polite and gentle doctor that will kiss you like a gentleman. Holding the sides of your face to slowly press your lips to his, so delicate.

OR he's a man starved. His mouth dry and panting and the only relief is the wetness of your mouth, your tongue. Behind closed doors, he'll dine himself upon you like it's the last time. A man possess. Afterwards, he;ll always apologize, unsure of what comes over him.

NSFW

Zayne is a gentleman. Considerate too. He takes what you want into account and so will touch you like playing an instrument. The human body is a map he knows well, and yours is one he wants undone.

He learns the spots that you like, the spots you don't, and everything in between. He uses his mouth more than his hands, tasting the places he plays with you.

His favorite is being against your neck and chest- his lips and teeth leaving tiny marks easily hidden by your clothes. He likes the feel of your breath and your heartbeat against him. He can feel the way your breath stutters as you ride him, or when your heart pounds so hard he can feel the beat of it on his tongue.

He likes to feel you come as much as hear it and see it. He’ll make you wait to come until he’s inside, his fingers or his cock. Either way is fine for him. So long as he can physically feel it.

Rafayel:

Rafayel is a tease. Mean sometimes with how he likes to play with you. Sometimes you wonder what you've done to deserve this (if only you knew).

Making him wait 800 years makes a man both desperate, and very patient.

At first, it's hard to tell whether his touches are because he's attracted to you or because that's just how he is. When you start off as his bodyguard, you spend most of your time within three feet of him, and lots of the time some part of you is touching.

Eventually you realize that no- he isn't like that with everyone. If fact, he goes to some lengths to not be touched by other people. Even Thomas, his manager AND his friend, doesn't get so much as a handshake.

Though you get your hair mussed and cheeks pinched. Teasing you about some silly thing you've said or done. Or playfully punishing you for neglecting your job as a bodyguard, like you aren't ALSO a hunter.

The touches stay teasing once your together, but also soft. The gentle things like a caress, a brush of his hands against your hip-- those tender things he seemed reluctant to do until you were his.

He doesn't hug so much as cling. He doesn't kiss without the tiniest bit of tongue. A little taste at the end of every kiss across your lips.

NSFW

Rafayel touches with his whole body, and likes to cover you with it.

He likes to have as much as possible touching. From chest to hips, all the way to toes. He thrusts with his whole body, not just his hips. It’s lead to you smacking your head on the headboard more than once. To combat this, he’s figured out he can lace his fingers on top of your head to keep you in place so he can really pound into you.

Or, he likes to have you leaning against him. He’ll sit up against the headboard or even in a chair and have you in his lap, bodies pressed from shoulders to hips and he’ll play with you like one plays an instrument. Splayed out, preferably with a mirror in front of you. Oh it’s not for you. It’s for him. He wants to see everything.

Sylus:

Sylus is touchy, but keeps it only to certain areas. There are parts of your body that he seemed to tink was open season from the beginning. Your hands being one of them.

He likes to intertwine your fingers, watching as they lock together. The glow of the linkage that shows up reflects off his face and he always looks so smug.

His love language (one of them) is quality time. Any time he can spend with you is time well spent, and even better if he can somehow touch you.

PDA isn’t really for him, especially in the N109 zone, but in the safety of Linkon he’ll kiss your forehead or hold his hand at your lower back.

He likes to carry you, if you’ll let him. From piggy backs to princess carry, it makes him feel strong and settles something restless inside him. Like you might float away on the breeze, but when you’re in his arms, you can’t slip away

NSFW

Marking. Claiming. Anytime he can suck a mark onto you is an opportunity taken. Better if he can dig his teeth in too.

It takes him a while to let himself be as rough as he wants, because at the end of the day he never wants to hurt you.

It makes him feel vulnerable, how desperate he is to touch you. And he can get pussydrunk so easily. A slave to your taste and your touch. He maintains control by a single thread sometimes.

He likes to kiss your chest. To feel your heartbeat against his lips. The aether core in your chest harmonizes with the one his eye, making the most intense sublime resonance. The sensation of it is like lightning to his spine, jolting pleasure down to his very marrow. And he likes to leave a little bite there when he inevitably comes from the feeling.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hi, I read your review of Eddie teaching his shy girlfriend how to kiss and it made me think about how sweet and patient he would be with her when they took their relationship a step further. I wasn't the one who requested the first review, but I was wondering if you could write a second part.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) fingering, grinding

part one

Eddie opens the door to the hotel room that he payed for the two of you to stay the night in. You had discussed taking your relationship to at length and you decided that you were finally ready.

He wants this night to be perfect for you. Someone’s first time should be special, especially in his mind. His wasn’t so he wants to be as kind and gentle as possible, repeatedly telling you how well you’re doing, how pretty you look.

You’re nervous, he can tell. You’re constantly wringing your hands and biting down on your bottom lip as your eyes dart around the room. Eddie’s wondering now if maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he should just take you home.

“This is a nice room,” you tell him as you sit down on the edge of the bed, setting your duffle bag at your feet. “You didn’t have to get a hotel room for this, Eddie.”

“Do you not like it? Is it too much?” Now he’s nervous and you hate that he’s overthinking it. He’s done something so nice for you and it kills you that he think he’s fucked to.

“No, no,” you shake your head as you take his hands in yours, pulling him towards you so he’ll sit next to you. “I love it. This is so sweet. I’m sorry. I’m just…nervous.” You’re wringing your hands again and Eddie takes them in his, pressing a gentle kiss to them.

“And you have every right to be. This is a whole new thing that you’re not used to. But I’m gonna be so gentle, gonna show you just how much I love you.” His honey eyes are boring into yours and you swear that your heart stops for a second.

He loves you. And he said it with so much meaning, as if it was something he had thought about it for a long time.

“You love me?” You ask, your eyes lighting up and the two of you are now smiling like idiots.

“More than you’ll ever know. Now come here.” He gestures for you to lean in so you and his hands rest on your hips while yours wrap around his neck, pulling him even closer.

“I love you too,” you murmur against his lips and he smiles as he pulls you into his lap so you’re straddling his waist. His hands move higher up your back as he lets you take the lead, your tongue dipping into his mouth.

This is safe, comfortable. You’ve done this now more times than you can count. These exact movements in this exact position and you can always tell that Eddie has been holding back as you often feel his erection against you.

But this time you’re not going to ignore it when it inevitably happens. You’re finally going to go all the way and Eddie is the only person you’d want to do it with. He’s nothing but sweet and gentle and he loves you. He loves you.

Eddie moans into your moan and you’re getting wetter as your make out session progresses. You feel him underneath you and need to something about it, something that doesn’t require you to take your clothes off just yet.

You try your best to grind against him but you don’t think you’re doing it right as Eddie laughs into your mouth. It’s more because he thinks you’re cute and not because he’s making fun of you. He would never do that. His hands move down to your waist, moving you back and forth so that you’re grinding against him the right way.

Once you get the hang of it, you take the lead as your lips find his again, his cock getting even harder underneath you as he moans into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his.

“Do you want to take another step?” He asks, pulling back to look at you, his hands moving up and down your back.

“Yes please,” you beg, getting wetter by the second.

“Can I take off your dress?” His eyes are searching your face for any sign of hesitance but he doesn't see it. But he still waits for you to respond.

“Yes.” You nod, trying to not seem too excited.

His hand moves up to the zipper on the back of your dress and he pulls it down slowly. Your eyes stay on him as he pushes it down to your waist, your pretty, lacy bra now on full display. One hands stays on your him while his other one moves up, his fingers grazing the lace with a feather light touch.

Eddie presses his lips to yours once again as he slowly picks you up, your lips continuing to move together as he carries you over to the left side of the bed. He pulls the cover back with one of his hands and helps you into it. You look so pretty and he can't wait to show just how pretty he think you are.

He gets in the bed with you, pulling the blankets over your bodies so that you're cover. He notices that you've slipped off your dress and that it's now crumpled up by the side of the bed.

"Can I remove these?" He asks, his fingers looping through the waistband on your panties."

"Yes please," you nod and he slips them off with ease and tosses them on top of your dress then looks up at you, silently asking permission to move onto the next stop.

"I-I'm gonna stretch you out, okay? Wanna make sure you're ready for me." You nod, knowing exactly what he means. You've read lots of smutty book so you know exactly what to expect.

"Okay," you nod. His fingers make their way inside you, pumping as slow as possible to get you used to the feeling. This is like nothing you've ever experienced before. You clutch his shoulders as his fingers move in and out, already feeling a moan in the back of your throat. You don't know why you're so afraid to let it out. It's a normal thing to do in this situation and you're sure that Eddie would love to hear it.

"So good," you finally moan and if just his fingers are making you feel this way, you can't help but wonder what he'll feel like inside you.

"That's a pretty sound," he compliments as his lips find yours again. "Wanna make it for me again?"

"Mhm," is all you're able to get out and his fingers move just a little faster and you moan even louder. He's imagined this so many times but the sounds you're making are much prettier than he's been thinking.

"Oh," you moan again and even though Eddie's desperate to see just how much you can take, he decides against it. Maybe after you've done this a couple of times. He's still determined to make this a gentle first time for you. Soft and sweet just like you.

"I think I'm ready," you tell him as your fingers dig into his shoulders.

His continues to kiss you, taking your hands and guiding them to the bottom of his shirt. Your fingers latch onto it and you pull it up and over his head, tossing it to the side as he takes off his pants, followed by his underwear.

In the blink of an eye, he's undressed and putting on a condom that seemed to appear out of thin air. He then looks down at you, that lovesick smile on his face. He wouldn't want to be anywhere else with anyone else. And it warms his heart that he's the only person you'd want to take this step with. He's nothing but honored.

His lips find yours once again as his hands slide underneath you, unhooking your bra with ease before letting it slide to the floor with all of your other clothes.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he sighs as he looks as your naked chest, then his eyes snap up to your face and your arms wrap around his neck, pulling you down to him for what seems like your millionth kiss of the night, but neither of you mind. You could easily do this for hours and have.

"Tonight is all about you, sweetheart," he murmurs against your lips before pulling away and you whine at his absence. "Greedy," he chuckles. "Just let me say this then you can have all of the kisses you want."

"Fine."

"If I do something you don't like or you want to stop at any point, don't hesitate to let me know, okay? On the opposite end, feel free to make as much noise as you want. It's actually encouraged. I-it's important to me that you enjoy yourself."

"Thank you for saying all of that. That makes me feel a lot better."

"Good," he nods, happy that he made you feel less nervous about the whole thing.

"Now kissy?" You pucker your lips and Eddie rolls his eyes at you before giving in.

"Give me your hands first," he instructs and you give them to him before he laces your fingers together before lying them against the bed. He then places himself on top of you, his lips capturing yours as his tongue slides into your mouth. You moan at the sensation just like you always do and Eddie's getting harder by the second.

He slowly slides inside you and you wince at the sensation, but as soon as thrusts, the pain lessens just a little. The whole thing feels odd, foreign, but you have to admit that you're starting to understand why people are doing it all the time.

The more he thrusts into you, the more you get addicted to the feeling, moaning whenever you feel the need to, the sounds you're both making and your labored breaths mixing together in the air.

His hair is hanging down above you and his face is sweaty and he lets out moans of his own. He looks so hot and you can't believe that he's yours. That he paid for a hotel room and one that was far enough away from everyone so no one would hear the two of you. He's been nothing but a gentleman your entire relationship and you hope he sticks around forever. Knowing Eddie and how wrapped around your finger he is, you're certain that he will.

"Just like that," you tell him as he hits just the right spot to make you see stars.

"Yeah?" He asks. "Like this?" He hits it again and you feel like you're going to black out but you don't dare ask him to stop.

"God, yes," you moan and he continues, doing it again and again as your hands hold onto his for dear life, making his skin turn even more white. You're close you, you can feel it.

"Taking me so well," he compliments and you think you're going to be fully melted by the end of the night because of his sweet words. "Maybe next time I'll let you have the whole thing," he winks.

"Eddie," you whine. "I think I'm gonna-" and right on cue, an orgasm courses through you, your back arching as you do so, your boyfriend's name passing through your lips as he gets one last thrust in before your back hits mattress, Eddie following you as he pulls out.

He disposes of the condom and lies with his head on your chest, his hands moving up and down your bare hips as he murmurs sweet nothings against your skin to lull you into a much needed sleep.

"You did so good," he tells you, pressing a kiss to the spot right between your breasts. "Did you have a good time?"

"So much fun," you slur, feeling sleep taking over your body.

It's the best first time you could have ever asked for. Eddie was an absolute gentleman and you didn't expect any different. You wonder if you ask nicely then maybe you can have your second in the morning. Since he's never able to say no to you, you think you'll take the chance. He does love you after all.

[passionfish11]

Had a stranger do the whole “thank you for your service” deal once at a car wash?? Made me deeply uncomfortable :/

I worked as a caregiver twice, once for a year and later for about half a year while I was getting through school. I hated it, but to be honest I think I hated it more because the company I worked for basically didn’t train us at all. It’s like, ah, you’re a woman, you know how to do this. And that was mostly okay for the clients I had the first time around (although one of my clients was outright cruel to me at times - mostly she had her own issues and iiiiiii will just let ppl hurt me and assume it’s my fault -working on that) bc I was mostly helping with housework etc, but the second time around I was working late night or overnight shifts, and they just dropped me in a memory care facility with ZERO additional training. Being kind and respectful only gets you so far when your clients don’t even really know where they are or who you are or what’s happening. They didn’t tell me shit about how to handle a patient asking to leave, or getting angry at me, or how to help/dress them without upsetting them, and the women I worked with who were actually employees of the facility would just. Breeze past the patient being upset. One time one of them (and as an aside, there were usually only two of us on the overnight shift, with no medical training, for like… 10-15 patients with Alzheimer’s/dementia/etc) had me help her with this woman who was basically nonverbal and the lady dug her nails into my arm so hard I had scars there for a year, and like. I can’t blame the patient, there’s strangers changing her clothes, and like, my coworker just waved off my injury….

It’s bullshit, and no one is benefiting, I know what I was being paid and I doubt any of the others were getting much more than that. I don’t think euthanasia/assisted dying should ever be the first choice, but when the only other option for a lot of people is places like that one, personally I would rather not live that. It was awful working on the caregiving side and miserable to see the way that the people living there were being treated and nothing coming of any attempts to change things because it’s systemic.

And the whole, “thank you for your service” thing just compounds the problem imo, it makes some caregivers feel like they’re righteous for “helping” even when their “help” is hurting, and I think it makes it easier for companies to underpay and over-schedule caregivers, because you’re in it to -help- ppl, right, not for the money? You’d work yourself to the bone because you’re a saint, right?

Just… bar none one of the worst experiences of my life

i think i've said it before but. as a professional caregiver it rubs me the wrong way how our field (and pretty much any field that involves caring for vulnerable people) is venerated

like don't get me wrong i am all for appreciating blue collar type professions, employees that are underpaid and overworked and vital for how our society functions

but it's a specific flavour of treating us like martyrs that doesn't show up when people appreciate construction workers or garbage truck drivers or janitors or fry cooks or whatnot.

it's a specific flavour of acting like we're doing a huge selfless favour for our clients that doesn't show up when people appreciate customer service workers or housekeepers or whatnot.

what's really ironic there is caregivers have far more power over their clients than customer service workers or housekeepers have over their clients.

and it just leads to so much shittiness in the industry. it's bad for patients cuz they don't feel like they can speak out when a caretaker is mistreating them (or even just doing something they don't like, even on accident), cuz they're expected to feel grateful for what the caregiver is doing for them. and it enables some shitty caregivers to get a complex about how their patients owe them gratitude for doing their jobs. isn't good for non-shitty caregivers too cuz sometimes the good ones then feel obligated to overextend and sacrifice themselves to be worthy of that gratitude.

just like yeah idk appreciate us but don't appreciate us any differently than you should appreciate any other worker i guess idk

[mimipolo]

Hey I have a request

Some Nam-gyu x reader where he developed a crush and sneaks of to talk to you at random times even tho you vote opposite of him he can overlook that however when he’s with thanos he’s mean and insults you which shocks and upsets you will you forgive him?

Nam-gyu x reader

| I had so much fun writing this ngl, I hope I did the idea justice <33

| Sorry Se-mi it's for plot

You had met Nam-gyu and Thanos after the first vote. At the time you felt a small sense of determination that you could make it through the games, get a higher prize and pay off all your debts in one go.

They had praised you excitedly, Thanos slinging an arm around you and going on about how they'd both protect you. You had trusted them for the most part, yes they were both a bit sketchy but they had a prescence among the players so it'd be easier to follow them. You had mixed feelings about the duo, one was always hyper and loved to mess with you and the other had a serious staring problem and a stupid smirk.

At the moment it didn't matter how you felt about them, you needed to get out of here. And now. You had barely survived the last game, knees grazed from when you fell and quickly scrambled to your feet. You wince at the pain as you curl in on yourself and rub your thumb over your bloodied hands. You were desperate for a sense of comfort or solidarity which at the moment only you could provide for yourself.

You were startled to see a head of black hair come out of nowhere from the ladder to your bed, angled eyes meeting yours hazily. Nam-gyu, a rare visitor. You're still startled by his sudden appearance, clutching your chest slightly as your eyes widen in surprise.

"Nam-gyu? What are you-"

"I'm coming up."

You don't get the choice to protest against it, he's already hauling himself up to get on your bunk, sitting cross legged in front of you. For a moment you're genuinely confused to why he's here, your bunk was fairly high off the ground and from how he was earlier you didn't expect him to be capable of climbing. Guess he sobered up. He's sighing softly as he links his fingers together, gazing at you as if in deep thought.

"You're gonna vote "X" next right?" He lifts his head up to see your reaction, clenching his linked fingers when he sees your lips purse as you look away from him. That was enough of an answer.

You personally are terrified, you had never been particularly close with the man and you were tense as to why he decided to make the trek up to your bed to ask you such a question. What's he going to do? Is he angry? Noticing the small shift in your body language he stops spacing out and runs a hand over his face. This sucks, honestly. The small infatuation based of pure curiousity he had for you had developed into a genuine crush he couldn't shake off. You intrigued him to no end and he was just working up to talking to you more.

So why'd this have to happen?

He's not that upset you want to leave, as much as he preached about how everyone should "Play one more game!", He understood the main basis of wanting to leave was the simple passion to live. A passion that'd he'd lost touch with after he lost everything he had. But you were in a similar situation, yet despite that you always seemed slightly hopeful things would work in your favour, and when they didn't you kept a level head. A rationality he wished he also had. You were smart, attractive and worst of all reasonable. Which is why you wanted to leave.

He's still staring at you but you feel less creeped out, you feel more worried. The usual carefree demeanor he had seemed to be crumbling right before you, he almost looked more tense than you.

There was a reason why he had come here, he didn't want to ask in front of Thanos. With him he'd be obligated to maintain this facade of now hating your entire being, but that wasn't the case, in fact it was very far from it. He wanted you like nothing else, selfishly. He could only hope you read him openly from the small amount of vulnerability he'd give you, something you were good at.

"Choose "x", I don't really care."

"Oh."

You are honestly pleasantly surprised by his words, your anxiety lowering massively. With the tensity gone you could see he looked...worried for you? You weren't totally sure but he laughs bitterly, pulling his signature move of pushing his hair behind his ears.

"Just know that, I'll vote to stay. So I'll still be sticking with Thanos."

You looked at him confused, and honestly he was too. There was no need to share all this information with you but he couldn't help it, he wanted to be open with you, show you how he is when you could be alone together.

You jolt slightly when he lightly takes one of the hands you're holding onto and taking them in his own. Streaks of blood crumbling away when he rubbed it away with careful thumbs, you could only watch him silently, admiring his oddly considerate actions. Even if the tint of blood still stained your palms. What's with all this special treatment, did he like you or something?

Before you could question him about what had just happened between you two he's sighing deeply and rubbing his hands together, ready to climb off your bunk.

"I'll try look out for you when I can."

And with that he's gone, you're left to sit with your thoughts and overthink how sweet he was to you just now. He was never like that before. Before you realised it a small smile was on your lips as you savoured the cold, brief moment of his touch still on your hand.

Though the next moment left you quite confused, it was time to vote. Everyone was still conflicted but you had made your choice and had a silent comradery with Nam-gyu. It gave you the bit off confidence to press the "x" button, some cheered while others groaned as you quickly switched your blue patch for its opposing side.

You could hear the familiar deep voice of Thanos going "What the hell man, we agreed one more game??" the direct confrontation made you physically tense as you made your way to side of potential exit. Nam-gyu didn't say a word, didn't even look at you either. Strange, you thought but you mostly brushed it off.

What the hell [Name], we agreed to keep playing, ya just switching on us all of a sudden?"

Thanos' voice echoed in your ears as he had you cornered near your bunk, you glance to Nam-gyu for some sort of support, even if it was just telling his friend to relax but you were quickly disappointed.

"Tch, did you really expect them to stay, I saw 'em practically trembling after the last round."

You felt your heart aches at his words, your expression immediately dimming as you stared at him confused. But unluckily for you he had mastered his poker face to the last detail. If he felt any guilt for what he said you wouldn't know, it was all behind that senile smirk now.

"Kehaha, nah you're right. All those loud sounds scare ya already?"

"Poor thing."

Thanos pushes you back accusingly, forcing your back to meet the unforgiving metal bars of the bunks, just as suddenly he's in your personal space, grabbing the red velcro badge on your chest roughly as he shook you. His eyes dilated widely as he threatened you with crazed, wild eyes.

"You're lucky this is there's a revote, switch this "x" to an "o" or I'll never let you live it down, got it?"

He laughs when you stagger back when he lets you go, Nam-gyu joining in with own mocking chuckle, it hurt you in a way it wouldn't have before. What was all that about earlier then, was it just a lie? But why, he didn't get anything out of it.

And again you're left alone to deal with your own self destructive thoughts, you just wanted to leave this place, it felt like you were suffocating within its walls.

Things ended up more violent than he had expected, he's panting as he rips the fork from the man's neck for the last time. How he felt? Great. It was like some great awakening as he stumbled up to his feet. It's only then he takes the time to digest the fact Thanos is dead, what a sad way to go hm?But also equally as pathetic. He wanted to laugh but he wanted to shout in frustration too. He does neither, looking down at his unpredictable partner in crime now laying on the floor covered in grime and blood. It's when he starts to feel the growing ache in his chest that the guards finally barge in to stop the fighting, forcing them all out the crime scene.

You're on your bunk, cuddled up to yourself as usual when you spot him, bloodied and worn along with other men. Your heart sinks as you take in the situation, watching as they shouted and cursed impurities from both sides. You had switched sides of sleeping arrangements due to the votes, so now you were able to get a slightly lower bunk bed. He shouldn't know where you were and yet his eyes snapped to you, for a moment they crumble slightly, a sliver of the worry he had coming out just for a moment. And then he's walking off, not looking back once.

It's lights out and you were terrified, you had finally found out what had happened in the men's bathroom and you knew it could lead to nothing good. Everywhere you thought to hide felt dangerous and you had no one to rely on, no one to truly trust.

He's shaking, his hands trembling as he sits perched on Thanos' bed, in memory of the annoying guy. He's feeling conflicted, he couldn't tell if he had cared for him or not, all he knew the indifference he felt for others wasn't the same with colourful haired man. He pops two pills in his mouth, brushing his knuckles against his lips as if the action were sacred. Soon thoughts drifted back to you. How were you holding up? Did you have anyone there to protect you? A sick part of him hoped not, he wanted to be the only one to look out for you, the only one you'd think to turn to.

He feels amazing, never felt so resolute in the entirety of the games than when he killed. Hissing in satisfaction as he struck the deadly cutlery into Se-mi's neck for what felt the 100th time. Wiping the blood of his face with the back of his hand when he feels a prescence behind him. He doesn't bother taking back his weapon as he gets up from his crouched position to turn towards the figure.

It's you.

You look absolutely terrified, your upper body was uptight and you could've gotten away with looking less afraid if it wasn't for how your legs trembled ever so slightly. You're fighting with yourself and you finally will your body to run but he's quick, yanking you back by your arm and holding you against him possessively. His breathing is hard and his bloody hands are firm against your back.

Heavy breaths fill your ears as he looks at you with wide shaken eyes, he'd been looking for you, even on this killing spree.

"You asshole, what are you doing are you crazy??"

"Heh- huh, yeah I feel like it a little..." the small chuckle he lets out feels distant from his true feelings and he wished you'd tell him why he's like this.

"You lied, you said you'd look out for me, prick." You want your words to be firm but the fear of everything around you was still so intense, it shook your words and made your throat tight.

"I know, I know alright. I said when I 'can' Thanos would've made things worse for both of us if I said something..."

"But he's not here anymore... I'll watch out for you, for real this time, promise."

Even in his drugged state you could tell these were his thoughts the whole time, and his visit to your bed made slightly more sense, he just wanted you to know he didn't actually hate you. What a weird guy, why not just come out and say what the game plan was? You wanted to ask him all these things, shout and push at him until you got all your frustration out.

But you're drained, there's still the far away screams of new victims being made and you couldn't tell what was side was losing.

But he's shushing you quietly, when you weren't even crying, but now it triggered you to. Hot silent tears running down your face as he huddled you into a corner and made you sit against the wall behind a fallen mattress. Grabbing your face and pressing his forehead to yours as he whispered softly.

"Nothings happening to us, we're getting that stupid cash prize and leaving this shitty place."

And then he's off again, you don't know where, but you'll stay here quietly and hope for his quick return.

[yinyuedijun]

FUNAYŪREI | sae x reader x rin

Sae still remembers what you'd been like as a little kid, arriving at their doorstep with nothing but a stuffed toy and a satchel full of clothes. He remembers how terrified you were of being thrown away again, and how you'd clung to him as soon as he told you that he'd be sure to take care of you. He remembers how you kissed him the night before he left for Spain, and he remembers your heartbreak when he pushed you away. It's for your own good, he'd said. One day you'll understand that this is wrong. If anything ever happened between us, it'd just hurt you in the end. Watching Rin kiss you now, Sae wishes he had just gone ahead and wounded you all those years ago.

9k words of the original version of desire path from sae's point of view, covering their childhoods. explanation on the relationship between the two versions here.

WARNINGS/CONTENT: incest (blood-related, half-siblings), implied past csa (off-screen, not involving rin or sae), cisfem reader, teenage sexuality, hurt/comfort, childhood romance, psychological drama, non-explicit sex between adults. use of japanese familial honorifics. see endnotes for translation of the title.

note: this fic started off as a deconstruction of itoshicest fics, where I asked myself, "what would it take for sae and rin to actually develop feelings for their younger sister?" the answer made for a very uncomfortable story, so please mind the warnings!

MDNI + DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

WHEN YOU WERE TWELVE YEARS OLD, YOU NEARLY DROWNED IN SAGAMI BAY. It was early March on a Sunday morning, so there was no one else on the beach, no responsible adults. It was just you, Rin, and Sae. You and Rin got it in your minds to have a swim race despite the high tide—maybe because of it, knowing the two of you—and for some stupid reason, Sae hadn't stopped you. It haunts him to this day that he didn't.

He remembers it all with stark, photographic precision: the seafoam and turquoise currents of Yuigahama beach; your arms flailing above the water's surface, riptide devouring your little form; the frigid chill of the sea as Sae dove toward you. Sae still has nightmares about your body after it was dragged out of the water, drenched and corpse-still on white sand. He remembers pressing his hands to your chest over and over, trying to pump the seawater from your lungs. He remembers the screaming, the crying, Rin's pale face as the two of them tried to wake you up.

He dreamt last night of the icy, smooth press of your lips as he tried to breathe life into you. He dreamt of holding you as you cried and gasped for air in his arms.

"You're awake," you say, and Sae turns.

He glances down at you. Your body is nude against the white sheets; your lips are still swollen from the night before. They curl sweetly, right beneath your adoring gaze. You had grown up looking at him like that, full of the unconditional type of trust of which only children are capable. You had kissed him looking like that, all sweet and tender for him last night. You had let him finish inside you looking like that, clinging to him and crying so needily as he filled you. I love you, you'd told him. I love you, I love you.

I love you, Nii-chan. So please don't leave us again.

Sae feels cold, like he's back in Sagami Bay. His lungs are filled with saltwater as he wades through the violent sea, and he can't breathe.

"Nii-chan?" you ask, pretty lashes framing your worried eyes, and he's swept up in the tide again, unable to save you.

SAE WAS NINE YEARS OLD WHEN HE MET YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME. You were a fragile little thing on his doorstep, carrying a stuffed animal and a satchel full of cheap clothes. Your eyes were heavy on the floor, framed by delicate lashes and weighed by shadows that belonged on the face of an adult. Sae remembers thinking that you must have been older than you actually were because of it; he'd never seen a child with such a solemn, tired expression.

Rin watched you with a curious gaze, perplexed at what was happening; Sae watched you with a wary one, the way he'd study an object on the verge of breaking: like a pretty vase sitting on the edge of a table, a flowerbed in the path of a careless shoe, a delicate sandcastle before a group of children.

Or his mother's trembling voice during an argument with their father, heard through thin walls.

On the morning before your arrival, Sae's mother had looked similarly on the verge of tears, but by the time she let you through the door, she had collected herself. She knelt down and gave you a kind, reassuring smile as she introduced you to Sae and Rin. "These are your new brothers," she told you, and you and Rin had both seemed uncertain about the declaration. Rin squinted at you, made a suspicious face; you shrank back from him, startled.

Sae, on the other hand, took it all in stride. His father had given him a talk about this, after all. As always, his tone had been calm and almost brisk. His face was stony too, eyes a cool, perfect blue—like he was on the phone with some businessman, rather than talking to his son.

You have a sister, he'd said, just a little younger than Rin. She's coming to live with us. You're the oldest, so it's your job to take care of her. Tell Rin to be nice to her, too—she's been through a lot. She's very shy, and she scares easily. She'll probably be nervous around you both.

Sae had asked what you'd been through, and he hadn't gotten an answer. He'd also asked why you didn't live with them beforehand, and why he didn't know you existed until that day, and if you were the reason why their mother had been crying so much lately, but he didn't get answers for those questions, either—only a deep frown and curt warning, words taut with carefully restrained anger. Sae was a smart enough kid to know to stop asking questions then.

All those details stopped mattering to Sae as soon as he met you, anyway. His heart ached for you from the moment he first laid eyes on you—why, he doesn't know. He guesses that it's because you had been such a fragile little thing, too scared to look anyone in the eye, too nervous to make the slightest noise—unless it was at night, and you were all alone. He heard you then, your room separated from his by only a thin wall: crying in your sleeping moments, sniffling in your waking ones. It kept him awake, thinking about what could make a person cry like that. About how evil someone would need to be to hurt someone like you.

Sae decided that he didn't care what had happened to you. He was only glad that it wasn't happening anymore, and that it would never happen again.

IT WOULD TAKE NEARLY TWO MONTHS BEFORE RIN AND SAE LEARNED WHAT YOUR VOICE SOUNDED LIKE. Whatever the two of them did, you wouldn't talk. Sae guesses that he approached it all wrong with you from the start, and it was a slow, painstaking process of earning your trust after that. He hadn't been a particularly nice kid, always blunt and a little unapproachable to most people. Even with his little brother, he'd never been outwardly nice in the honeyed type of way that most people liked, but he didn't need to be. Rin always understood that he was kind, gentle in his own way.

But even though you were going to be his new youngest sibling, Sae quickly learned that his usual way of speaking wouldn't work with you. A flat voice would make you uneasy, and any neutrality in his expression got read as anger. You told him as much years later, a finger tracing the flat line of his mouth, a little smile blooming at the quirk of his brow.

That kind of face would have terrified you when you were a child. You laughed when you said as much: "I was such a paranoid kid, wasn't I? Way too sensitive. Bet it was annoying for you."

Sae didn't laugh at you, then. He didn't even smile.

"I didn't find it annoying," was all he said. His voice was curt. You hesitated, but quickly relaxed. Kissed him on the cheek and said he'd always been so kind, and then he had to cast away his gaze.

For ages, Sae kept using his natural expressions and voice, and was confused at how you never reacted well to his attempts at being kind. At dinnertime, Sae would ask you which dish was your favourite—he wanted to grab some for you before Rin could inhale it all, he said—and you wouldn't answer. In the evenings, Sae would wrestle the remote away from Rin and ask what you wanted to watch—otherwise it'd be Chibi Marukochan again—but you only looked away, fidgeting. He asked you, of course, if you wanted to play soccer with them, but you just gave him a helpless look and never seemed happy to come along.

Even Rin—sweet in the way that Sae wasn't, gentle and open like their mother—had trouble with you. You weren't scared around Rin, but you still didn't know how to react to his friendliness. On weekends, Rin would take you to Sae's soccer matches, narrate his older brother's every move, and you would hardly react. You only watched Sae from your seat, quiet and obedient next to Rin. His little brother found it deeply frustrating—weren't you being kind of rude?—and Sae remembers having to defuse a temper tantrum that would have definitely terrified you.

Some years later, Rin commented on what a weird kid you'd been when you first arrived, and you shrugged it off.

"I just didn't know the answers to any of those questions," you explained. Rin gave you a sceptical look.

"You didn't know what foods you liked to eat? Or what shows you wanted to watch?"

"Nope. I didn't get to watch TV before I lived here, so I didn't know any kid's shows. And my mom and dad never fed me anything decent, so I didn't have any favourite foods."

"Like, they were bad cooks?"

"Something like that."

"And you ignored me during all those soccer matches, because…?"

"I didn't know the rules. I had no idea what was going on, so I couldn't comment."

"You could have asked me to explain things."

"I was scared you'd get mad at me, if I did."

"What?" Rin frowned then, and Sae wondered if his brother would finally put together the pieces. "I wouldn't get mad at you over something like that."

"Are you sure?" You sat up, gave him a playful little smile. "You get mad and petty about stupid shit all the time when it comes to soccer, Rin-chan."

"I do not. And"—Rin scowled, drawing a giggle out of you—"don't call me that. I'm older than you."

"We're basically the same age!"

"Not by several months." Rin glanced at Sae. "You address him properly. Why not me?"

"Because I like you less."

"You little—"

A squeal. Rin's arms had locked around your waist, and now you were squirming in his grip, peals of laughter escaping you as his hands found your most ticklish spots. Rin's mouth twitched despite the glare he was trying to feign, his eyes bright. Endeared. Sae found himself shifting restlessly, watching Rin's face, listening to your unabashed joy.

"Rin," he interrupted. "Hold her there for a sec."

"What?" you yelped. You looked up at Sae, wide-eyed and pleading. You even batted your lashes at him—long, pretty; you had worn a lot of mascara that day, and Sae knew it was because you were planning to spend time with him—but he just gave you an unimpressed stare and flicked you on the forehead.

"Behave," he said. "Don't be rude."

"Fine." You pouted, turning around and making a face at Rin. "Can you please let me go, Rin-nii?"

"I guess."

When Rin released you, you gave him a peck on the cheek, and he returned it with a look of mild revulsion, wiping away the pink stain you'd left next to his mouth. You didn't pay him any mind though, just shifting over to Sae and pressing yourself to him. You did the doe-eyed thing again, squeezing his arm as you looked up at him.

"See? I'm well-behaved."

He gave you a flat look. "Hm. I wonder."

Sae remembers the shiny pout of your lips in that moment—calculated, glossy, strawberry-flavoured. You'd dragged him out shopping a week earlier and pointed at a new lip collection, locking your fingers with his and pulling him toward the display. You only let him go so that you could swatch pink-red lines onto your wrist, telling him to choose which shade he liked best on you. Then you noticed they were flavoured and you asked him which fruit he most preferred.

Cherry is his favourite, but he'd lied.

IT WASN'T THAT YOU LIKED RIN LESS. It was more that you liked Sae differently, at least when you were kids. At least before Spain. He supposes that it was because he was the first and only person you started trusting, after you arrived—something that was inevitable, he thinks.

He'd been the eldest, after all. It had been his job to take care of you.

Sae had been the first person to get you to talk, all those years ago. He'd spent weeks thinking of ways to do it, stretching his little kid brain to its very limits. He had high hopes for the soccer plan, because who didn't enjoy that game? He and Rin spent weeks trying to teach you how to play, and although you could go through the motions well enough, it didn't change your perpetual silence. Sae eventually told Rin to give up on the lessons; it snowballed into an argument that only ended when Sae pointed out that the faces that Rin made during games spooked you.

Then there were the ice pops. It was a natural extension of soccer, since he and Rin always grabbed some after practice. They had you join them, and for nearly three weeks in a row, you kept getting those elusive winning popsicle sticks. Rin and Sae both cheered each time you did—yes, even though Sae, himself, was losing—but you'd only returned their excitement with an uncertain look.

But once, when Rin commented on how jealous he was of all your free ice creams, you gave him both your popsicle stick and a shy little smile. Rin didn't even understand, at first, what you were trying to do—but then you pushed it into his hand, a wooden little stick with WINNER written at the end. All your good luck going to the palm of your brother's hand, along with the first smile they'd ever seen from you.

It sent Rin over the moon.

Sae never told him this, but Rin was a little unbearable about it. He kept on beaming about it and wouldn't stop showing Sae that dumb popsicle stick for days, and he ended up hanging onto it instead of trading it in for ice cream. Sae knows that he's kept it to this day: on the desk of his childhood bedroom, next to all his MUJI pens. Your very first gift to him—to either of them—and his little brother's good luck charm.

Rin seemed happy with you then, willing to let things go as long as you kept smiling. But it wasn't enough for Sae.

He needed you to talk.

IT FINALLY HAPPENED DURING PRINCESS MONONOKE.

Rin—the little weirdo—routinely asked to watch that film every once in a while because it was his favourite. Why he was so obsessed with the scariest Studio Ghibli movie to ever exist, Sae would never know. But he humoured Rin nevertheless, and he also humoured Rin's request for you to join one of their rewatches.

Obviously, you ended up shaking and terrified, trembling in your seat and watching the film through your fingers. Rin didn't notice, but Sae did.

"Do you want to stop the movie?" he asked.

Your eyes went even wider, as if Sae scared you more than the film did, but you shook your head anyway. He squinted at you.

"You're sure? I won't mind stopping."

You glanced at his brother, who was too deeply engrossed in an absolutely revolting scene of a demon to notice any of this, and Sae immediately understood your concern.

"Don't mind Rin. He's seen this a million times."

But you shook your head again, and Sae relented. He unfurled a quilt that typically lived on the couch and laid it out over the both of you, then offered you a cotton edge. At your curious look, he explained, "It's kinda nice to have a blanket to hang onto when a movie gets too scary." Pause. "Plus it's cozy."

And Sae wanted you to be cozy.

You nodded. You burrowed fully into the blanket, nestled your face into the turquoise patterned fabric and studied Sae carefully. He pretended to focus on the movie, but he heard it when you finally talked for the first time, voice tiny and on the verge of breaking—

"Thank you."

THAT SIMPLE ACT OF GIVING YOU A QUILT CHANGED EVERYTHING. Sae hadn't known that a person could be so obsessed with a blanket, wrapping yourself into it at every opportunity. He even caught you going to bed with it, but he never commented on it, not wanting to scare you off. You'd been crying less at night lately, and he was sure it had something to do with that blanket.

You'd also been doing better during the day. Although you were still never comfortable around their parents, you were now noticeably more relaxed around Sae. Gravitated toward him, even. You always tried to sit next to him or stand near him, and you always did kind little favours for him too, the sorts of things he'd done for you: pouring him tea, putting food on his plate at dinner, taking the remote when it was offered to you and flipping to Chibi Marukochan.

Sometimes he made funny faces at you—the awkward, toothy expressions he'd usually make at Rin—and instead of being unnerved, you'd now actually laugh.

You had a wide grin, with an adorable gap where you'd lost your baby tooth. Delicate crinkles at the corners of your crescent eyes. Pretty gleam to your irises as you shone in the midday sun. Those moments where he caught glimpses of those things from you—Sae remembers being mesmerised by them, back when he was a kid. He's still mesmerised by it now, stares whenever your mouth curls up, all honeyed and bright.

Often, he caught you beaming as you sat next to Rin, watching his soccer matches. During those fleeting glances Sae snuck at you during halftime, he'd see you waving at him wholeheartedly. Sae wasn't a particularly expressive kid himself, but his lips always twitched up at the sight of you so happy.

Still, you had your bad nights. Progress has never been linear with you, not now and not back then. Sae recalls one midnight where you had a crying fit that disintegrated into a violent string of coughs, each one so powerful that it made him wince.

He wondered how the whole house wasn't awake, listening to your pain. Rin always slept like a rock—Sae could see him snoring away in the other bed, so it made sense that he wasn't bothered—but surely their parents were hearing this? But then he decided not to linger on it for too long.

It didn't matter since he was going to help you anyway.

He ended up knocking on your door with a glass of water. Almost immediately, all the shifting in your room stopped, almost like you were trying to silence yourself. But Sae could hear the coughs being torn violently from your throat, even though they now sounded strained and muffled.

"Hey," he called out softly. "It's me. Are you awake?"

Silence. Sae knew to give it a moment before he tried again.

"Can I come in?"

If it had been anyone other than you, you told Sae years later, your fingers running lazily through his hair, lifting the bangs out of his face, I wouldn't have said anything. I'd have pretended to be sleeping. But I let you in because it was you. You squeezed his hand, then, and your eyes were close—so close, heavy on his own and weighed down by the vulpine flick of your eyeliner, by the mascara sooty and thick on neatly curled lashes, by your childhood shadows. Your strawberry gloss shone next to his lips, and your heated and tender words kissed them: Do you understand what I'm saying, Nii-chan? If it had been anyone else, I wouldn't have been—

"...okay."

When Sae crept into your room, found an empty bed. You were hiding underneath it, curled up in the tiny space between the floor and the mattress, hugging the quilt he'd handed to you weeks ago. He crouched down, showed you the glass of water. Sae wasn't sure if the offering would be enough to draw you out from under the bed, but another coughing fit—this one strong enough to make you teary-eyed—had you crawling out. You mumbled a little thank you as you took the glass from him and drank.

"You haven't cried like that in a while," Sae commented, and you gave him a stricken look. After a long moment of unadultered panic in your eyes, he heard you string more than two words for the first time:

"...s-sorry. I'm really sorry." You were looking down at the floor, and it was like all the progress Sae had made over the past several weeks had gone up in smoke—you looked petrified, small, a cornered animal with nowhere to run. "I didn't know you could hear me."

"Don't apologize. I don't mind it."

"...you're not mad?"

Sae thought it was a funny question. "No. Who'd get mad at something like that?"

You didn't reply, just looking away, and Sae felt a little frustrated, then. He'd been working so hard to make you feel comfortable and thought he'd finally made some progress—but now he was seeing you regress in real time. Back into the fragile little thing that his parents had decided to adopt out of the blue, looking like you couldn't trust anything around you. Like you couldn't trust him. Sae couldn't help but think—

"You don't like it here, do you."

Even at that age, you had a distinctly doe-eyed look when you were confused, and he remembers staring at it.

"No," you said. "I do."

"Then how come you don't wanna talk to any of us?"

Maybe his voice was a little too harsh. Or a little too blunt. You flinched, your body retreating into the turquoise shell of your quilt.

"Sorry."

"That's—" Sae paused, chewing his lip. Tried to make his voice as gentle as possible, because he knew his usual tone would scare you. "...you don't need to be sorry. I'm not mad. I just wanna know what's been making you so upset. Like—how come you always cry at night?"

You got that nervous, uncertain look in your eye again, and Sae got the distinct feeling that you were wondering if this whole conversation was some kind of trick. He added, "I just wanna know how to cheer you up. I don't like seeing you so sad all the time."

You blinked, gave him a surprised look, but it was fleeting, quickly making way for another gloomy expression. "You don't need to worry about me… I don't think I'm going to stay here for very long."

Sae's brow furrowed. His mom had made it sound like you were going to be his little sister just like how Rin was his brother—that is, permanently. "Why not?"

The face you made was so miserable that it startled Sae. He hadn't had a lot of experience with sadness as a kid—most of what he'd witnessed revolved around soccer, when the opposing team lost, and Sae never felt very sorry for them. Sometimes Rin would throw tantrums or cry over silly things, but those were easy to handle. Sae supposed that the worst sadness he'd ever seen was in his mother, who tried her best to hide it—

—but not even her saddest expressions could compare to how shattered you looked in that moment.

"...your dad doesn't actually want me here, Sae-san."

Sae's brow creased. You have a new sister, he recalled. You need to take care of her, OK?

"That can't be right," Sae replied. "Dad said he wanted you to be part of this family. He even said I should look after you."

Instead of responding, you looked long and hard at Sae, and for the first time, he experienced the strange feeling of being dissected by you. He felt translucent and naked under your eyes—keen for such an innocent age, seeing everything in the dark.

"We have the same father, but different moms. You know that, right?" you asked quietly.

He didn't.

"Your dad didn't like my mom very much, and that's why he didn't want me. He's only being forced to take me now 'cause my mom decided she didn't want me either." Your eyes started to shimmer, and you hid them in your blanket. "My stepdad and my brother also left 'cause they didn't want me. And I don't think your mom likes me very much, either. So"—you breathed in deep and whispered, and Sae felt like he was watching a vase tip over the edge, a sandcastle crumbling into dirt, his mother crying as she fumbled for her cigarettes when she thought no one was watching—"it's not gonna be very long 'til your parents throw me away too."

Sae went silent. If his heart ached for you when he first laid eyes on you, then it was being crushed right now. He didn't think very hard about it when he placed a hand over one of yours.

"They wouldn't do something like that," he said.

Your fingers twitched under his, like you wanted to pull away.

"They want to. I can tell."

You're just imagining things, Sae nearly replied, but then he remembered that he'd never once heard his parents come here at night to check on your crying, and then he went quiet.

"...it doesn't matter," he eventually decided. "I won't let them."

A little sniff. "No?"

"No. I'll make sure you stay with us."

You blinked the saltwater away from your lashes, then gave him a curious look. "Why?"

"Because I'm your brother, and it's my job to take care of you."

"Really?" you asked, voice watery.

His eyes softened, his usual impassivity crumbling for you.

"Really. I would never let anyone throw you away," he said, and the words felt so ugly in his mouth that he couldn't fathom how anyone had done that to you. How anyone could have done anything to you. You were so sweet, and so kind, and so vulnerable, and it left him feeling sick when he imagined you being hurt in any way. "I'll keep you safe. Promise."

Sae nearly jumped when he felt something move in his hand. He looked down, saw your little fingers prodding at his own, and he offered you his open palm. You took it readily, Sae found himself transfixed by the latticework of your entwined fingers.

"Thank you, Sae-san."

"It's nothing," he wrote off. His thumb rubbed the back of your hand, gentle in a way that his voice wasn't. "But I'm your brother now, remember? You should address me properly."

You smiled a little, studying your interlocked fingers, and Sae felt a peculiar warmth in his chest, an uptick in his pulse.

"Okay, Nii-chan."

Nii-chan. Sae's always loved hearing that title in your mouth. Not out of a demand for respect the way Rin obsesses over it, but because you've always seemed so happy to say it, the syllables sweetened by your adoring tongue. Okay, Nii-chan, you've always said. I'll listen to you, Nii-chan. I trust you, Nii-chan. I love you, Nii-chan. I love you, I love you, I love you.

So please don't leave us again.

Please don't throw me away.

THE SIGNS HAD ALL BEEN THERE FROM THE VERY BEGINNING, and Sae’s often regretted not being old enough to see them until it was too late. He had just been a kid at the time, stupid and shortsighted and ignorant about the world beyond the touchlines of a football pitch. Even within the perimeters of his own childhood home, he struggled with making the right choices. Later on, it started to feel like if he made even one wrong move, the whole thing would fall apart—crumble like dry sand, or shatter like glazed porcelain.

Take, for instance, your habit of sleeping under the bed: something that Sae ended up catching you doing multiple times, whenever he visited at night. It bothered him deeply, but he was too young to know what to make of it, and too young to know what to do about it. When he asked you about it, you just did that thing where you apologised and curled up into yourself, so Sae quickly abandoned the notion of talking through it with you.

So he turned to his mother instead, and she wrote it off as a fun little game you were probably playing with yourself. Then he mentioned it to his father, who shrugged and said your mother—your real mother, Sae later figured out he meant—had never mentioned anything about it, so it likely wasn’t a problem. Sae was left to ponder it on his own, and he was so perplexed that even Rin intuited that something was off.

“Nii-chan,” he said one day, on their way home from practice, “is something the matter?”

"Huh?" Sae blinked, torn from his thoughts. "What do you mean?"

"You look upset." Sae's brows shot up; Rin had never before been so observant. "Is something bothering you?"

“...nothing you need to worry about,” Sae reassured Rin, but that only made his younger brother frown.

“Tell me! I wanna know.”

“It’s boring stuff,” Sae waved off, but that only made Rin grab his arm and start shaking it like a ragdoll.

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Nii-chan! Tell meeee.”

Sae tried not to groan. More to appease Rin than anything else, he said, “I’m just worried about our little sister. She does this weird thing where she sleeps under her bed instead of on it… and I dunno why.”

Rin blinked at him, seeming unbothered. “I don't think that's that weird. Maybe she's playing with a friend, or something.”

Sae hummed. Rin had, in fact, gone through a phase where he watched all of Sae’s football matches with an imaginary friend that sounded more or less identical to No-Face from Spirited Away. (Why a five year-old would envision such a terrifying imaginary friend, Sae would never understand.) It wasn’t a crazy idea that you might have your own No-Face hiding beneath your bed, but thinking about all your crying at night, Sae had a hard time believing you were there because of any kind of imaginary games.

“I don’t think she does,” Sae decided. “She never seems like she's having any fun.”

“Huh. Then maybe she’s hiding from something?”

Sae squinted at his little brother. “What would she be hiding from?”

“Tons of things. Ghosts, monsters…”

Sae hummed, considering. Rin had also gone through a phase where he genuinely thought their house was being visited at night by a funayuurei from Sagami Bay. In those days, he couldn't sleep unless he was in the same bed as Sae, and even then he'd spent most of his time trembling under the sheets rather than peacefully dreaming. It had taken a great number of late nights, broken curfews, and one stolen camcorder (which Sae still needed to sneak back into their father’s study) to show Rin that no such spirit existed.

Sae wondered if his little brother had forgotten all his efforts.

“Ghosts aren't real, remember?” he reminded him.

“I know they’re not real,” Rin said, “but maybe she doesn’t?”

You didn’t, the both of them would later find out. You still believed in ghosts, monsters, curses and the like. But believing in spirits was different from fearing them, and though you’d never tell Sae this, it wasn’t a ghost that had been haunting you for all those years.

RIN HADN'T BEEN ENTIRELY WRONG. It was fear that had been driving you under the bed. When Sae asked you about it—“Are you under there because you’re hiding from something?”—you finally admitted to it, nodding wordlessly as you crawled out into the open space before Sae. You didn’t say what you were hiding from, but he assumed you were the same as Rin: you must have been afraid of a vengeful spirit, maybe a ghost rising from the waters of Sagami Bay. Sae wouldn’t have blamed you. The ocean often made eerie noises at night, and even having grown up next to it, sometimes Sae would feel unsettled.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said gently. “Nothing here is gonna hurt you. I promise.”

You fiddled with the edges of your quilt, playing with a loose thread. Sae made a mental note to cut it later, before it started unravelling.

“I just feel better sleeping underneath the bed,” you said.

He frowned. “If it actually made you feel better,” Sae pondered, “then why are you always crying?”

You went quiet, brow sloping up and eyes dropping down. Sae didn't pressure you to speak more. Instead, he tried again: "Do you think there's something else that could actually make you feel better?"

Hesitation. A shy look. You seemed almost embarrassed, and that's how Sae knew that you had an idea.

"You can tell me," Sae prompted. He reached out for your hand—slowly, in case you wanted to pull away, but you let him cradle the warmth of your palm with his own—and said, "You can trust me. I promise."

"...I also used to hide under the bed in my old home," you started, voice halting.

Sae waited patiently.

"...I was always too scared to sleep on top. But my brother noticed, and he started letting me sleep with him." Your eyes grew soft, your mouth curving into a gentle slope. "Nii-chan was the best. He made me feel really safe. But then he…"

Threw me away, Sae knew you were thinking, so he didn't let you finish. He just said, "Then you can sleep with me."

A surprised little blink. "Are you sure? I don't want to be a bother…"

"I won't mind. Rin and I used to share a bed together, 'cause he was afraid of ghosts, so I'm used to it…" His grip tightened. "And anyway, I'm your new Nii-chan. I don't mind doing things that your brother used to do for you."

You smiled then, fragile but sure. Sae got that warmth in that chest again, and he felt he was doing the right thing that night, letting you climb into bed with him. You waved at Rin, who was lying in his own bed, watching the two of you curiously as you settled under the sheets together. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sae thought he should talk to Rin about what was going on, but right now he was focused on making sure you were comfortable. He didn't have time to make things clear for his little brother, not when he was occupied with you.

This arrangement wasn't a perfect fix—after the lights went out, he could feel you shaking like a scared little fawn—so he shifted toward you, hoping he could help.

"Hey," he whispered. "Are you still feeling scared?"

"...a little." You sounded ashamed. "I'm really sorry, Nii-chan."

"It's okay," he whispered. "Just remember I'll keep you safe. I won't let anything hurt you."

"...I know you won't," you said after a little bit, and then you added, "I trust you, Nii-chan. I promise. I just… gotta get used to sleeping like this, again."

Sleeping on top of your bed, Sae knows you mean. Sleeping without hiding.

"Is there anything else your stepbrother did to make you feel better?"

Another silence—shy again, hesitant. Sae thinks it had been a sign of trust when you said, "He used to hold me. And he held my hand. But"—you sounded frantic, now, like you were scared you'd made a mistake—"you don't have to if you don't wanna, Nii-chan. I don't wanna bother you, so—"

"I won't mind." He inched closer to you. "Not if it'll make you feel safer."

Holding Rin isn't something he'd ever done, so it didn't come naturally to him, doing it with you. But he let his arms cradle your warmth, let you nestle your face into the crook of his neck, let your breath sweep over his racing jugular. Let you cling to him, the way you clung to your quilt during all those nights beneath the bed. Let himself shield you from whatever ghosts you'd been seeing—let him be your thing to hold onto while scared.

It was the right thing to do at the time: Sae had been sure of it. The easy rhythm of your sleeping breath told him so, as did the honest trust in your eyes every night—the kind of trust that a little kid could only give their brother. The kind of trust not unlike the blind faith that Rin would later have in their dream. The kind of trust that Sae had in his mother, who was always kind and loving even if she sometimes seemed a little shattered.

The kind of trust that Sae wanted, even at that young age, to honour.

It was the right thing for him to do, to hold you like that and keep you safe.

It was the right thing for you to do, to trust him so dearly.

He doesn't know when all the right things started bleeding wrong.

YOU ACTUALLY LATER FOUND, IN YOUR TEENAGE YEARS, THE NOTION OF HAUNTINGS A LITTLE FUNNY. You told Rin that you'd been desensitised to it from all the horror movies he'd made you watch; you could only see so many variations of Noroi and The Exorcist before getting bored. Even The Shining was losing its charm. But the slasher films never got old for you: you had endless patience for home invasions, serial killers, psychological stuff. They were more real, you said. People were tangible. Ghosts were not.

Once, on a visit from Spain, Sae had joined the two of you for a movie. Despite your disinterest in it, you still clung onto Sae the way you always had as a child. Your hold on him felt different now that you were grown—sly and silky, bare legs thrown across his lap and body pressed into his side, head on his shoulder. Every shift of your thighs over his lap felt precise, intentional: designed to distract Sae from the screen. You whined at him to hold you and when he asked why, you gave him a watery look and said you were scared.

You weren't even looking at the TV.

"You said you found ghost movies stupid," he said, in the sort of voice that clearly implied you're bullshitting me. You drew closer to him anyway, your arms looping around his neck. The cool mint of your breath swept over his lips as you laughed, and he was keenly aware of the thin space separating your mouth from his.

"Did I say that?" Your lashes fluttered. "I think you're misremembering. I'm terrified."

"Are you, now."

"Of course. Would I lie about something like that?"

Absolutely, Sae stopped himself from saying.

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep alone later, Nii-chan. I might get nightmares." You tilted your head, gave him a pleading look. "You won't mind if I sleep with you tonight, right?"

"You already sleep with me every night," Sae pointed out flatly. You'd retained the habit from when you were a child, and he didn't know how to stop indulging you. "I should start kicking you out."

"If you're getting tired of me," you said, "I could always go sleep with Rin-chan instead."

Sae imagined it for a moment: you curling up in Rin's bed the way you'd been doing beneath Sae's sheets since childhood, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties—lacy, sheer, and colourful, Sae knew from the number of times you'd carelessly thrown your laundry into his basket. Bare legs tangled up with his, feathery breath on his cheek, strawberry fragrance in your hair. Seeking out his hand in your sleep, or settling into his arms, pressing your back against his chest and your waist against his hips. Baring your neck to him too, its slope pretty and delicate.

Once Sae pointed out that you shouldn't sleep in such compromising positions with other people; they might get the wrong idea. You'd tilted your head and asked what sort of ideas he was getting, and Sae had violently recoiled.

None, obviously. I'm your brother.

Okay, then, you'd said, settling into bed. You undid your bra beneath his t-shirt, took it off and threw it to the side; he tried his hardest not to look at it. Since you're my brother, there's nothing for me to worry about. Pretty eyes, innocent smile. You wouldn't do anything bad to me, right? I can trust you.

Maybe you'd offer that blind trust to Rin, too. And why wouldn't you? Rin was also your brother. He wouldn't ever think of doing anything to you, just like how Sae never would. You could safely sleep next to Rin, let him put his hands all over your silhouette, press all your curves into him—give him full access to your sleeping, vulnerable body, and…

Sae felt like he was going to throw up.

"No chance in hell you're sleeping with me," Rin shot down before Sae could, and Sae released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"What?" you exclaimed at Rin, feigning hurt. "Why?"

"Because you're way too clingy in your sleep and you're a blanket hog," he groused. "Now be quiet or get a room. We're getting to the good part."

Sae's gaze snapped to Rin. "How do you know that?" he demanded.

Rin gave him a funny look. "Because I've watched this movie before…?"

"No—I mean, how do you know that she's clingy when she's asleep?"

"Oh. Because of that time you went to football camp when we were kids. She got scared by herself at night, so she slept with me, and it was"—Rin shot you a disgruntled look—"the worst sleep of my life. Thought you were gonna suffocate me."

"You loved it," you shot back. "You were just as cuddly as me."

"What?" Rin sounded defensive. "No I wasn't."

"Yes you were," you practically sang, mouth curling. "It surprised me a lot—that's why I still remember it. You were very touchy with me, Rin-chan."

"I was trying to get my blanket back from you, dumbass." Rin rolled his eyes, then turned back to the screen, where Sadako had made it halfway out of her TV before Rin had pressed pause to argue with you. "Anyway, like I said. Be quiet or get a room."

Rin returned to the movie, and even you did—placing your head on Sae's shoulder, a haunting playing out before your eyes. But Sae couldn't focus, could only look at the pale glow of the TV on you, shining white in your irises.

Get a room, he kept thinking. Get a room.

Get a room for what?

The question brought up that swell of nausea in Sae's belly again, that urge to lie about the strawberry-sweetness of you. That violent repulsion when you'd given him with your big, innocent eyes, asking, What ideas have you been getting, Nii-chan? That oppressive heat that crept through his body every time he saw your colourful lace in his dirty laundry, or damp between your thighs whenever you bent over to turn off the lights.

That feeling of wrongness that was somehow born from all his attempts to do the right thing.

When you settled into his arms later that night and pressed a chaste little kiss to his jaw, his pulse raced, flooding heat into his veins. He looked at you, and he saw bare skin and pretty lashes and long legs wrapped up in his own. He looked at you, and he saw a fragile little thing on his doorstep, too scared to say a word to anyone, too frightened to sleep on her own.

He looked at you, and something in his chest split like porcelain.

Sae wonders, now, when he'd become the very thing that's been haunting you your whole life.

YOU WERE JUST A CHILD WHEN YOU KISSED SAE FOR THE FIRST TIME. Seven years old and tender in the dark, seeking comfort in his arms. Sae had just shaken you awake from a nightmare, held you close and told you that you were alright: you were here, you were in bed with your big brother, and ghosts weren't real so you didn't have to be scared—but even if they were, Sae would protect you from them.

It worked, but poorly. You stopped crying and quieted down, but then started clinging onto him, shivering and desperate.

Sae wasn't sure about how to handle this. Rin had never gotten like this before, not even while he was having his worst dreams about his funayuurei. But then he remembered how often you said you liked it when your stepbrother held you, so Sae did that for you: put his arms around you and let you cry. It felt easy doing it, instinctive. Something an older brother would naturally do for his little sister.

When you leaned back, thoroughly cried out, Sae cupped your face with your hands and started wiping away your tears with his thumbs: another thing your stepbrother once did for you. Another thing that came naturally to him.

He asked, "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" Sae was ready to steal his father's camcorder back, spend more nights building pillow forts and hunting for ghosts. Or ready to grab your turquoise blanket and wrap it around your shaking body. Or ready to break into the kitchen and get you a midnight snack.

When you gave him a little nod, Sae expected any and all of those things.

He did not expect you to kiss him.

His mind went blank when he felt the shy press of your lips against his own. He wondered, for a moment, if he was dreaming, but you felt so real. So tangible.

  You waited patiently after you drew back, watching him carefully in a darkness thinned only by the fluorescence of plastic stars. His mother had put them on the ceiling for you and Rin, gotten a ladder so Sae could help too. He'd been the one to suggest that you and Rin be the ones to turn off the lights, each putting an index finger on the switch and flipping the room into darkness together. Wow! you'd both gasped, and your faces shone in the glow of those artificial stars.

It was the first time Sae's mother had seen you so full of joy. I didn't know that child could smile like that, she'd remarked quietly to Sae, watching you and Rin count the stars together. I was worried she'd never open up. But you've been so good to her, Sae. She's always happy around you.

Right now, your face was just as bright as it had been back then—and all Sae could think about was how he wanted to keep you glowing like that under his stars.

But something about that kiss unsettled him. It didn't feel wrong, exactly, but something that should be hidden—done in secret, made the subject of a lie.

And Sae didn't like lying.

As if sensing his hesitation, you gave him a guarded look, edging hurt. "You didn't like that?" you asked.

"No, I did," he said quickly. Instinctively. And then he remembered himself and added, "It's just… we shouldn't be kissing."

You tilted your head. "No?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Sae stopped. Why not, he wondered as well. If you asked Sae nowadays—twenty-four, a proper adult—he could give you a laundry list of reasons, each one more damning than the last. But Sae back then—nine years old, a stupid kid—was at a loss.

"I… Well, it'd just be wrong."

"Wrong, how?" you asked, and now your voice was thick with anxiety and Sae needed desperately to ease it.

"Well… it's just not something siblings do, y'know? I wouldn't kiss Rin."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Sae cringed. The thought of kissing Rin made him want to gag, and he knew he'd probably puke if he actually ever tried it. But you still kept staring, uncertain.

"Well," you said, "I guess I wouldn't kiss Rin either. But that's because I don't like Rin…" You gave him a little smile. "You're the one I want to kiss. Because I like you."

Sae's pulse fluttered. Pounded strangely in his ears, flooded his face with heat. He swallowed thickly as his mind played out your suggestion: closed eyes, your hand in his, the peck of your lips again—this time returned. A proper kiss, like the kind in movies. Oddly enough, the image didn't nauseate him at all, and Sae wondered if you were right: maybe his disgust at the thought of kissing Rin was only because he didn't like him.

Maybe Sae liked you.

But even though he wouldn't mind kissing you, something about the idea unsettled him. Family members just didn't kiss each other on the mouths—and even if he didn't know why, he knew it probably shouldn't happen.

In the absence of a concrete reason, Sae found himself unable to reply. It was especially hard to grasp at words when you were looking at him that way: so earnest, so shy, so pretty. Yes, you were pretty, Sae finally admitted—you were pretty behind chain link fences as you watched his matches, pretty in the sunset glow as the two of you walked home from practice, pretty even when you were a fragile little thing on his doorstep, with nothing but a stuffed toy and a satchel full of clothes.

You were pretty and sweet and kind, and Sae might have liked you, and he didn't know why he shouldn't.

In the end, all he could say was, "I think we'd get in trouble for it. And we're too young for that kind of thing, anyway."

You deflated, your brow crinkling as you looked away. "Oh. Sorry." Quietly, you added, "You're right. We would get in trouble."

"Yeah." Sae softened his voice a bit, already knew what to say: "But I'm not mad at you. You know that, right?"

You looked up at him, bottom lip trembling—and he hated that, couldn't stand to see it, thought it was like seeing a dandelion being crushed—but you gave him a little nod. He drew up the blankets over your shoulders and tucked you in, hoping it'd calm you.

"Let's just forget about this," he said, and you hummed in agreement.

Still, as Sae watched you press yourself to him and close your eyes, you murmured, "But I really do love you, Nii-chan. I just wanted to show you how much. 'cause you asked me what would make me feel better. Showing you would have."

Sae felt something in him twinge at the new word—love, you'd said, a funny thing to hear outside of a Ghibli movie—but you were fading now, voice soft like cotton candy. He thought you were actually sleep-talking and dreaming things up, maybe thinking of that film that Rin loved so much. That part where the cursed prince talked about loving that feral, orphaned girl, and the savage wolf god had laughed at him.

He wishes now that he could rewind time, shake you awake and say so many things to you. He'd have crushed you, left you joyless for a little bit, but it'd have been for your own good. You don't need to show someone that you love them by doing something like that, he could have said. Or—Siblings don't show each other love by kissing on the mouth. Or—You only want to do this because you don't know any better.

Or, most importantly—You shouldn't feel this kind of love for me.

But instead, all Sae did was tighten his hold on you and whisper, "It's okay."

END EXCERPT

note on the title: "funayuurei" are the vengeful ghosts of people who died in shipwrecks, drowning at sea. many funayuurei myths involve these malevolent spirits coming across other vessels at sea and trying to sink them, thus condemning the living to sharing their fate. rin's childhood fear of a funayuurei that emerges from sagami bay to visit their home does not have any basis in real-life folklore; it is just a child's nightmare that I invented for this fic.

SPOILER ALERT (tw suicide mention) but rin's fear of funayuurei and the motif of drowning/water/typhoons/etc. is extremely significant to the universe of desire path. that's why they feature heavily in both versions of the fic. the reader's biological mother actually drowned herself in sagami bay, which is something that the reader discovers in her teenage years. in both versions of the story, she never really recovers from it.

thanks for reading!