#tw ANGST

[divinevault]

Do you ever consider that maybe, at one point, Apollo fell so in love with a mortal that he tried his hardest to defy death?

That while they were bleeding out from their wounds, he was forcing waves after waves of healing magic into their body in hopes of bringing them back?

Do you think that, centuries later, there is a perfectly preserved human corpse somewhere in the woods, untouched by animals, gently wreathed in flowers? In black roses, forget-me-nots, and marigolds? (the end of something, a plea to not be forgotten, and a grief that cuts deep)

That Apollo can't stand going to that section of the world anymore, for how his heart still longs for the lover he lost? The one he failed to save? (Just like the others- always like the others)

[incorrectbatfam]

Dick, to the Joker: Hello. My name is Richard Grayson. You killed my brother. Prepare to die.

[dawnwriterimagines]

The Guilty Plea

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 x FEM!READER

Traitors Among Us (Part 1) and Innocents Among You (Part 2)

Verdict Due (Part 4) Clear Skies (Part 5)

Summary: As you're discharged from the infirmary, under watchful eye, you head to Laswell to talk on the rest of your now ruined military career. Of course, you're forced to confront your team as it happens, the last people on earth you'd like to see.

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

---

Running your fingers along the raised, pink scar across you cheek, the feeling of it...it really looked terrible. A part of you thought it would disappear, hoped it would, but it didn't. It just became severely more noticeable. Looking at this, you knew you'd always have to think of it. You'd sport this reminder for the rest of your life.

Looking away from it, you find your own tired eyes in the mirror, you haven't been sleeping well. Or at all. You can't remember the last time you got 4 hours, let alone 8. Dark circles still surrounded them but at least the bruising and the swelling had gone down.

You couldn't recognize yourself. Not really.

This woman looked so exhausted, so frail and so goddamn angry. It was accurate, it was how you felt. All of it. So, you supposed that the mirror's reflection was the truth, this was you indeed.

"If you need another day or two, no one will ask questions."

You glance over towards your psychologist, your fucking therapist, a nice little 'gift' sent over by the bureau to check in on your mental state after your ordeal. Glaring at him through the reflection of your mirror, he sighs, putting down his pen that slaps against his notepad, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"I'm going to Laswell." Ignoring his statement, you speak. "I'm ready. I'll pack up. Get back to base. Vera had me discharged from the infirmary. I can start ov--"

"Vera?"

"My nurse. You met her," you continued, annoyance spiking at the interruption. Your wrist brace squeaking quietly under the pressure of your fist tightening beneath the table.

"Right..."

"Do you listen to a word I say outside of...my 'trauma'?" You wonder, bluntly.

Your psychologist blinks, surprised, before clearing his throat, appalled. "If you feel I can be more attentive to your state of well-being throughout our process, than by all means--"

"Oh, so 'no'?" you lean back into your seat, a strained laugh leaving you. His lips press together and you continue before he can find the words. "Because whenever I mention leaving this fucking team, you either adjust our schedule for another two weeks or suggest hypnotic therapy, as if I need anyone else digging around to fuck up my mental state."

"I never meant to imply--"

"Oh, you implied it," you interrupted, gritting your teeth. "I know what I want. And I want off Task Force 141."

He taps at the leather of his notebook. "Scars heal, just remember that, Ms. (L/n). The reminders of your experience shouldn't have to haunt you."

"It's not the scars, I've had my share way before this," you admitted, rising to your feet. You exhale deeply that tells to the effort of it, the steel gear hinges along your leg braces shift with your change of position. Still getting use to them. "It's the person."

"Has she changed, you think?" the psychologist begins to write, getting somewhere.

"She doesn't exist anymore."

Finally, placing the mirror down and onto the side table, you pushed off of the table, rolling your IV pole along with you. Passing the chair your psychologist sits on, he closes his notebook with a frustrated huff, looking over his shoulder. "Session over for you already, Ms. (L/n)?" he sighs. "We've still got the hour."

"I'm done," you take the knob in your hand. Turning.

In more ways than one.

"You understand that, informing your captain on your leave is required of you. Have you spoken to any of them, in the last few weeks?" he spoke up, quickly. "I'm sure giving them a space to open up, share from their view--"

"Why should I care--"

"--will give you better understanding, better clarity of the situation they were in--

Appalled. "What the fuck?" Jamming the door closed with a loud, shuttering thud, you whip around. "IT'S NOT ABOUT THEM!" you could just rip your hair out. "Who--who says that to someone?!"

Your psychologist sits there, eyes wide in confusion. "What--"

"Christ, can you hear me? Can you--can you see me? I've got metal plates in my spine, braces holding my knees in place and nerve damage that'll never heal! Who gives a fuck about them!" your skin feels red hot, your face twisted in rage. "I gave my life! My life to this! And then I'm tortured, I'm threatened, drugged and beaten by my own team, my f--my family for eight fucking years..."

You continue with a heavy chest. "And I'm supposed to invite them for dinner to talk and listen them bitch and moan about why they thought it was necessary to beat me to death for two weeks?! Fuck you!" you spat. "I don't owe them anything!"

"That's not what I was trying to say, Ms. (L/N). I apologize, I overstepped. Come sit down--"

"Of course you meant it," you interrupted, mock humor. "Don't be a pussy, own up to it. Revel in your truth. Be tter yet--" you snatch a journal from the cabinet. Tossing it his way. "Make a note of it."

Turning the knob, you leave the room with a slam of the metal door.

---

You were officially famous. On the base, you were now a legend.

A story that would be mentioned and told at lunch for months. Probably years.

First, you were a rat. Next, you were innocent. This was the most gossip any of those in service had ever seen in their years of service.

An interesting reminder to those in service that you weren't safe off duty either.

You learned a few days ago that there was an update put into the interrogational unit, something about how to properly go about dissecting evidence and being on the lookout for enemy spies in the militia.

You guessed you had been told about it in an effort to be appeased by the thought that the head of control paid attention to anything beyond their own noses for once. But, you had little to no faith in a system that's nearly killed you on and off the field by now, so it didn't matter.

You doubted the new rules would be followed though, there was a plethora of things they'd done to you in that cell that were both illegal and unsanctioned. Most of all, that were expected towards an enemy, a prisoner of war at best, and not a fellow marine.

You arrive at the housing quarters, swiping your key card, pulling the handle and entering the wing. Immediately, you're greeted by a dozen eyes, conversations stopping short and clothes ruffling to silence, suddenly whispers fill the space and eyes turn away.

"Oh, god, it's her..." says one man in the far corner.

"Shut the fuck up, man!" came a harsh whisper back.

"I didn't know it was that bad..."

All those eyes on you, makes you pause in your step, looking around at all of your fellow soldiers, the men and women you've served with for years. Many you recognized, ate with, fought beside that turned their backs to you now. Out of respect? Out of distaste, morale, nerves, pity, it all didn't matter. It all felt the same.

The wheels attached to your IV pole suddenly sounded much too loud on the polished flooring, as you walked down the hall as fast as you were able to.

Breathing out deeply, you get to an elevator, pushing on the button, once, twice, three times, just open goddamn it.

With a ding, the metal doors open, and suddenly you're aware that people could be in the elevator, they could be in this elevator, he could be in this elevator. Your eyes flicker down to the floor, your grip on the pole of your iv tightens, your shoulders stiffen, waiting for a blow that will never come.

You stand there as the doors open up, the small space empty, the metal walls reflect only her and a streak of lighting from the ceiling.

Looking up slowly, finally taking a breath, before sliding the iv up and onto the elevator, following it as you press your floor number along the way.

The ride up is fast, a little rumble as it stops, and then the doors open. Faster than you were prepared for.

Peeking out down the hallway, luckily no one to bump into, which you were thankful for. But, it didn't make this hall any less haunting. You'd been cornered in this same hall, you could recall being hauled out of the room after the solid handle of a knife hits your temple.

You don't go down fast enough, whipping around as you stumble to take the wrist of your attacker, mostly for balance, it's Price. In shock, you're unprepared as Johnny's arm encircle your neck, locking you into position as you both stumble backwards onto the floor. He blocks your airways, hushing you harshly as you struggle, feet kicking out and your vision blurring as your team surrounds you. Your family.

That was quite the headache to wakeup with afterwards.

You hadn't quite remembered until now. Being back served as a hell of a kickstart to your memory.

Just a few more reasons to get the fuck off of 141.

Getting off the elevators, the metal doors sliding closed behind you, you make your way down the hall. The polished flooring creates a subtle squeak through the wheels of your iv pole, your hand absently running over the fading stitches along your side.

Passing the shadows of your tortured memory, the doorway of the office was closed, locked.

You pass Kyle's room.

Johnny's.

Finally, you rush up to the next room on the left, grabbing the handle, before beginning to twist, but then you're yanking your hand back as if the metal had burned you. Your back ramming into the back wall, catching yourself, this wasn't your room.

It was Simon's.

You'd spent hours, days, in that room. More than your own.

Why wouldn't you? You were about to get married to the man. You had more in this room than you had in yours.

Sharp breaths leave you, shivering in your effort to keep yourself together, your head goes back into the wall, swallowing down the ache in your chest.

You wait, muscles tensed and your body pressing back into the wall, hoping it'd absorb you if that door opens. Listening for every sound, any pin drop, even an exhale from beyond that doorway. Luckily, Simon seemed to be out for the day.

Hurriedly, nearly running, you steady yourself against the wall as you rush down to the corner of the hallway, finally finding your room.

Turning the handle, it's not locked, it's broken. It opens with ease.

Entering the room slowly, pushing the doorway aside, the crackle of glass beneath your boots as you step forwards, clothes and picture frames laying scattered.

The mattress flipped and ripped open, springs and cotton cut from it. Your wall of metals and certificates, from acts of bravery and mementos of valor, discarded, later you'd find them in the trash, one with a bullet lodged into the gold.

Sniffling as you leaned down, picking a specific frame off the ground, the only one that hadn't been broken. Laying along the ruined rug, with no care for the glass digging through your jeans, you stare at the still shot of your family.

The only family you had outside of Task Force 141, your father and his sister, military brats themselves, until their retirement. Your mother had passed, or just up and left, days after your 5th birthday, you weren't completely sure, the story kept changing every year. But, these two were the only family you've ever known, ever had, until you joined the military, following in their footsteps.

They'd been so proud when you arrived back after your first assignment, in truth you were heavily traumatized, but seeing them, you just had to smile. Having a family that understood the harsh toll on the line of a trooper, now a lieutenant, it was always easier to bring your troubles to them. But, they were also military nuts so "suck it up" was also a quick go to answer from your aunt, while your father was the smoother talker.

They had met Simon, loved him, his rank, his love for you, his seriousness. They trusted him completely with your heart.

So, when he called them, after the evidence leaked...

They believed him.

"What're you talking about?" You took the handle of the chair in your grip, easing you down into it as your legs do weak at what you were hearing. "I didn't...I didn't do it, Dad."

"Do you know how humiliating and disappointing--how it felt to hear him say that to me, hm?" he says, static crackles on the reciever. "My daughter...my own flesh and blood...working with terrorists--"

"I'm not working with anyone! Are you-" you huff out a breath of disbelief. "Are you even listening to me? I've never betrayed the code. How can you think that way of me?"

For a moment, he's silent. "Alright, then," he began. "Than, what'd you do? huh?"

"What--what..."

"Oh, come on, (Y/n)!" your father yells. "What did you do?! What could they possibly have had on you that made you the most likely target? You had to have had done something, been somewhere, were with somebody you weren't supposed to be with! They didn't just get that information from anywhere."

"What the fuck--" Your expression twists with frustration and misery, running your hand through your hair, pulling at it. "I've sacrificed every part of myself for this job, for this team, what do I have to gain from throwing that all away? They send me everywhere, places you've never heard of, places you'll never hear about and people you'll never have to meet, because of me! Why would you just believe Simon? Why couldn't you just wait to talk to me?!"

Hearing your father scoff at your words was painful. "What reason do I have not to believe him? He knows you, maybe even better than any of us. Besides, he was going to be my son in law--"

"I'm your daughter! Fuck Simon, what about me? You'd believe him instead?"

He sighs. "Listen, you're upsetting Cass. We didn't expect your call. I gotta make this brief..."

"You're upset?" pulling at your hair, sucking in sharply. "I'm the one who's permanently fucking altered here. What do either of you have to be upset about?!"

"Watch your fucking mouth!" he seethes. The anger in his voice isn't new, but the way he spits it at you is. "You did this to yourself, I didn't. Maybe that's what your nightmares were about, am I right? Your guilt?"

Wiping the streaks of tears that had fallen down your face, lips quivering and chest aching with sobs you frustratedly shoved down. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I don't deserve the disgrace that will come with you as my kin, I've lived my part of this war. No daughter of mine should even be in this fucking position," your father spat, disgusted into the receiver. Suddenly, he was the cruel, bitter old man your mother had always known him to be, you wished she had stayed to at least remind you of that. Maybe it wouldn't have hurt as much. "You should be ashamed of yourself, but at least you got yourself out it. The least you could do for us."

"Well--what does that mean?" you spoke, quietly.

"Don't call again..."

"Dad, no--" you break this time, a sob escaping you.

"Me and your Aunt Cass..."

"Daddy please, don't do this--"

"..We've decided to cut ties. We're not taking any heat from this, you're on your own," he finishes, clearing his throat, waiting a moment, listening to the pleads and cries of his only daughter, his once pride. "You take care of yourself. Goodbye, kid."

"Why can't you just believe me? Why?!" you cried.

"Don't come to the house."

"No, no,--" the line goes dead. And staring down at your phone, his caller id going blank and the call disconnecting.

Your phone all of a sudden feels heavy, the device and your hand falling down to your thigh, before the phone slips out of your grip and onto the floor. You sit there silently, until your tears drop up and even after.

Staring at the photo now was haunting in its own way, it was just another painful reminder.

Using the bed frame to stand to your feet, your grip on the frame is painful as you squeeze it, the glass cracks audibly.

"Bonnie..."

Whipping around at the sound of John MacTavish's voice, you back up a few steps at the sight of him, your back hitting the edge of your desk.

He reaches out as you stumble, before his fingers curl back into his palm as you find your balance, his hands receding back to his sides. He doesn't enter the room, just lingering just beyond the doorway, his eyes flickering around the room, guiltily.

"I didn't know--we didn't know you were out," he speaks quietly, as opposed prideful personality that translated into his voice usually.

You say nothing.

In the dark, your eyes are wide and your shoulders are tensed up, he can see the glint of your leg braces, the iv pole at the side, the scar beneath your eye. You looked terrified to see him.

"We were coming back to clean up today, just got back from...from a mission..." he stutters on his words, shifting his feet.

"It's been a week."

His lips press together hearing your voice. "I know..." Johnny glances around at the room he'd let those officers destroy, it hadn't been them, but they might as well had done it. "I know...we just...didn't know it was so bad."

"Really?" your voice is mockingly sweet, drawing out the word. "You didn't know? Well look..." you hold up your family photo, the light in the hallway catching on the glass. "You missed one."

Your hand dropping, the heavy frame comes down just as fast, ramming into the ground, the glass practically exploding on impact.

Johnny flinches, the photo of your family...He looks back to you, surprised. "Bonnie..."

Snatching the next closest thing from your desk, a ceramic cup. "Oh, wow, can't believe you guys missed this one," you chuck it into the wall. It breaks on impact, the remains scatter along the flipped mattress and onto the floor. "That used to be my favorite mug by the way."

The Scotsman worriedly steps forwards, 'Lass, I'm sorry--"

"FUCK YOU!" you spat, coming into the light. You're sure you look deranged, and you didn't care. You could've wrapped your hands around his throat, killed him right on the floor and you wouldn't have blinked. "It doesn't mean anything! 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', over and over and over again! As if you shouldn't be! Your apologies mean fuck all."

"I know...I know," he breathes. "But, I've gotta say it anyway, bonnie. I should've believed you, there was no reason not to. I know that now. I just--"

"Believe me!" you cut him off with a yell. "Trust me! Fucking 'HELP ME'!" you screamed with the same fever as your days in the interrogation room, that terrible cell, the cold, the burn and pain. "I cried it all to you, to all of you, and nobody came. Nobody came for me," you breathe in sharply. "It doesn't matter what you should've done. You didn't do it!"

Johnny's eyes are red, he opens his mouth, closes it and then swallows down whatever chokes him up as he looks at you. "I should've came for you. I wish I did. I wanted to, Bonnie..." he steps forwards, and you recede back away from him, your eyes narrowed with violence. "I'll never forgive myself for not listening to you. For not coming to help you. For laying a hand on you. I'm so sorry, (Y/n). I'm sorry..."

I'll never forgive myself... "That makes two of us," you assured.

Johnny's eyes widen, before they close, his guilt ever consuming. He can't help but understand, to respect your decision, to know things can never be ok again. "(Y/n)...."

Grabbing hold of the nearest thing, a pencil cup, you hurl it at Johnny. He doesn't put his hands up, flinching as it hits him, the metal clinking against his kevlar, eyes closing then opening, he stands still. "I don't forgive. I don't accept your apology. I don't fucking care about it!" with each sentence you throw something else his way, a broken frame, the trash bin, a pillow, the CD player.

His hand has to come up for the knife you unsheathe, a memento from one of your missions, it's rusted, ancient probably. But, you hadn't given it up to a museum or to pawn, you had nearly died on this mission, saving Johnny ironically. You had to keep it.

Seeing the weapon, his defensive position is instinctive but his hands drop just as fast, he understands, you need this. You deserve this. "If you need to..." he speaks. Your eyes flicker up to him, away from the knife. "If you need to, I get it..."

And you need to. You really fucking do.

Your grip on the knife is dangerously hard, it hurts.

Looking at Johnny, he'd been your brother in more than a few ways on and off the field, he had been your comfort, your friend, your family. You had bled with him, held onto him as he carried you from the battlefield, joked, laughed, screamed and cried. You've loved him for years.

He'd had a rough few nights you could see that. He was quieter, reserved. Almost as terrified to see you, as you had been of him.

And you could kill him right now and never bat an eye.

And so, throwing that knife was so fucking easy.

Johnny's eyes close as you do just that, fists clenching and teeth biting down on his tongue to prepare for the pain.

The ancient weapon whiz's through the air, the sound is sharp and he knows it will cut through him like butter.

The thud rings in the room, and Johnny's eyes blow open wide, holding his breath as he collapses to his knees, before turning to you.

You dig into the pile of clothes that had been cast aside, a pair of sneakers and a new shirt. You don't look at him a single time as you take it all, stuffing them in a bag, and leaving the room, passing him completely, a limp in your step.

Johnny releases a pained breath, tears finally leaving him as he looks up, the knife lodged into the frame of the doorway, just barely missing him. The sleeve of his uniform ripped open.

He sits there in the quiet, destroyed room. A testimony to the relationship he's destroyed between you.

Part 4!! OUT NOW

[srfiv]

did days always disappear so easily, chasing you down to the bottom?

[banana-jar-studio]

TW// ANGST AND INJURY

I love how I somehow managed to do this lighting

[cheesecakethots]

“Whore.”

You could’ve sworn the teacup in your hands cracked a little from how hard you’re gripping it. If you were Illumi, it would’ve shattered into a fine powder by now. But you’re not, which makes you susceptible to being called such things.

They’re at it again. You’re unsure as to what you’ve done to upset some of the butlers and maids, but god do they not like you. No matter. You hate everyone in this stupid boring ugly manor anyway. Huh. Maybe that’s why they hate you, too.

It must’ve been a shock to see Illumi of all people one day bring home his future wife. One he never cared to mention to anyone else beforehand, and one that was still kicking and screaming over his shoulder.

You’re not really sure how long you’ve been here. Months? A year now? However long it’s been, it didn’t take anytime at all to realise that maybe you’re not as safe here as Illumi swears you to be. His mother most definitely hates you, but, oh well, she’s never really tried anything, as far as you know.

The help started muttering things when Illumi wasn’t around, things that hurt more than you wanted to admit. When you didn’t go running off to Illumi at the first few instances of it, it got worse, as though they knew you would never tell him about it.

First off, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being your saviour when someone says mean things to you. Secondly, you may hate these assholes, but you have a conscience.

Only last week Illumi came into your shared bedroom, absolutely drenched in blood, asking if you could shower together. You quickly found out that whoever he had been torturing wasn’t dead yet, and he still had more to do.

Thinking about what Illumi does to people he doesn’t care about, those he’s only hurting for a job, makes you shiver at the thought of him actually harming someone who did him, or you, wrong. But, despite your mercy on them, this time you’re considering just telling him. Only a little.

You’ve had a notably stressful day, being pranced around by his mother who’s insistent on ‘training’ you to be the perfect wife for her son. Her explaining to you that the family expects at least six children from you both had you rushing to the bathroom to vomit.

Then you ran into his father, on your way back to your room. He doesn’t seem to actively dislike you, but he scares the absolute shit out of you. The man seems to think you’re some house pet rather than an actual person with thoughts and feelings, but you suppose that’s a modicum better than wanting you dead.

You also bumped into Illumi’s grandfather. You’re not sure if you can bring yourself to hate him, but you do hate the look of pity in his eyes whenever he sees you. Sometimes he’ll save you from a lecture Illumi’s mother is giving you, so he’s nice in that regard. He’d never free you, though, so he’s just another kidnapper you can’t become friendly with.

You eventually got back to your room, expecting a nice nap before being forced to attend family dinner, only to find Illumi had gotten back earlier than expected. You cringed at how hungry he was, and not for food, but just allowed him to do as he wished. You were too tired to argue. After he was done, he seemed to take note of how quiet and exhausted you were. Too bad, dinner time. You hated dinner times more than anything else.

You ate the admittedly lovely food in pure silence, but quickly became sick to your stomach at hearing Illumi and his mother discuss the prospects of you becoming pregnant. You didn’t eat anymore after that. You’re pretty sure his brother, Milluki, made some comment about you that Illumi didn’t like, which explains why his wrist was snapped in half a few seconds later.

Illumi tried spoon feeding you when noticing how full your plate was, but you managed to convince him that you weren’t hungry. That got you another lecture from his mother about how you’ll soon be eating for two. You were tempted to tell her that if you ever got pregnant you’d throw yourself into Mike’s jaws, but managed to refrain.

After that, you finally got to go to bed. It wasn’t something you were looking forward to anymore; you struggled to sleep when Illumi was home because he’d spend the majority of the night just staring at you.

“Can I go outside?”

You don’t remember why you blurted it or where the thought came from, but you remember the confused blink Illumi gave in response.

“Um.. just for.. ten minutes? O-Or five..? I just want to sit in the garden by myself for a bit… If not, it’s alright..”

You hated how pathetic you sounded, unsure as to what Illumi was thinking when he stared at you with that expressionless face.

“Alright.”

“What?”

“Would you like me to ask a maid to bring you out a cup of tea?”

You didn’t really think about his words too much, just happy you got something your way for once, and nodded rather enthusiastically. You should’ve said no.

The first few minutes of being in the garden, sat on the bench and allowing the cool nights breeze to settle on your skin had you relaxing for the first time in a while.

“Your tea, mistress.”

Oh. It was one of the ones you were sure hated you, and behind him was another. Oh, well. You took the tea from his hands, thanking them nonetheless.

It was much more bitter than you liked it, but you didn’t complain. You didn’t really want tea in the first place. They didn’t leave, but you didn’t complain. Illumi probably asked them to watch over you, maybe to make sure you didn’t try to run. It’s alright, you still have a nice view to relax with.

“Whore.”

Your eyes widen a little, and your grip on the cup increases. They continue muttering amongst themselves, but you catch small, demeaning phrases that you’re certain are aimed at you.

Why are you a whore? You’d never even had sex before you met Illumi, and if you had, it wouldn’t be their business. You’re hardly allowed to interact with anyone other than who Illumi allows you to. Where would you have the chance to sleep around? The insult doesn’t make much sense.

That’s what you tell yourself, despite the fact that your shoulders and hands are shaking and you feel something cold and wet running down your cheeks.

Shit.

You put the cup on the floor, hands moving to cover your face and wipe away any evidence of tears. Illumi hated when you cried.

Why are you still crying? What they said doesn’t make any sense. Stop crying, enjoy the view. You don’t have long left before you have to go back inside.

You’re still crying. You don’t notice that it’s gone eerily silent aside from your own muffled sobs, too busy working on shutting yourself up.

“[Name].”

Shit. Shit!

He’s been sat next to you for god knows how long now, and you didn’t even realise. God, this sucks.

“Why are you crying?” Illumi asks, and you can feel him move closer to you on the bench.

“I-I’m not,” you say, a hand still covering your eyes. What excuse do you give? If you say hay fever will he never let you out in the garden again? If you say you have a cold, will he keep you inside your bedroom for a few weeks? Months?

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel him staring at you.

“Would you like to stay outside for a bit longer?”

Oh.

“Ye-Yeah. Y-Yes please,” you eventually reply, gulping down another sob.

He doesn’t leave, but you’re less bothered by his presence than usual. Despite it being… him, it’s not horrible to have some company, even though you’d never admit it out loud.

You’re not sure how long you sit outside before he stands, prompting you to do the same. Neither of you say anything, not until you reach your bedroom and Illumi tells you in a tone softer than you’d usually hear from him that he has something he must do, so you’ll be sleeping alone tonight.

You turn to go to bed, but he grabs your wrist. He doesn’t look at you for a moment, seemingly considering something. Then, he stiffly leans forward, pressing his lips to your forehead rather robotically. Sometimes you wonder if he is a robot, it really would explain a lot.

The kiss ends soon after it begins.

“Get some rest. You look bad.”

You huff a little, but can’t bring yourself to actually be offended due to the thinly veiled concern in his tone.

The sleep you get is better than you expected. Maybe not having a mass murderer eyeing you up while you try and rest is a reason for that.

Illumi doesn’t show up for the entirety of the next day, which is a little strange. He likes seeing you off in the morning, giving you a kiss before he departs - you’re certain he copied it from a romance movie you used to enjoy watching from time to time. You don’t question his absence too much, you don’t exactly enjoy his company, after all.

The day you have is better than the last. Illumi’s mother seems to be a bit less of a bitch than usual. That’s a win in your book.

It doesn’t take long for you to be back in your warm bed, wrapped up in covers and drifting off to sleep.

You wake up to the feeling of something wet hitting the tip of your nose, and quiet breathing above you.

“Are you awake?”

You are now. It’s pitch black in the room, but you can make out Illumi looming over, his hair framing around you like some makeshift cage.

Still sleepy, you groan a little, “Illumi? What… time is it?”

Something wet hits the bed.

“2:57 AM.”

Huh. You breathe in through your nose. Illumi absolutely reeks. Metallic, is it? You’re not sure it’s the best idea to comment on it.

“Oh. Okay.”

Another drip of something onto the blanket. He doesn’t seem to be in the talking mood.

“Have I done something wrong?”

“… Yes.”

Another.

You gulp. “Are you mad at me?”

“I don’t think so.”

Another drip, this time it hits your arm.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes narrow in the darkness.

“No.”

The silence is deafening. Your hands clutch onto the end of the blanket. He leans impossibly closer, and the stench of whatever is on him becomes all too familiar. He’s smelt like it before, but never this strong.

“How long were the help bothering you?”

“Since I got here.” There’s little point in trying to lie about it now.

“If you hide something from me again I’ll break three of your fingers.”

A little specific, but the threat certainly does the job.

“Okay. I’m… sorry.” You’re not.

Finally, he pulls away, eyes still trained on your face.

“Go to sleep.”

You don’t. You’re certain that you can’t, at least not for tonight. Especially not after hearing him turn the shower on, and after he’s done leave the room once more.

Instead, you sit and stare at the ceiling, and wonder if any of those in the basement will even have three fingers left of them, by the time he’s done.

[wolfsteax]

chained to a lie, we're the same, you and I, we're the same

[razdazberry]

For Feng Xin week, day 5: Xianle War!

[rinhaler]

And if I Change My Mind it's Far Too Late

All you want to do is celebrate your best friends birthday. But you can't even find him. Why are things so weird tonight?

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ best friend!rin itoshi x f!reader

Genre: friends2lovers ++ porn !! Notes: I'm so late for rinnie's birthday I suck lmao !! enjoy tho Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, drug use!(weed), dubcon, slight shotgunning?, friends to lovers ♡, rin is angsty!, weed paranoia, love bites ♡, dacryphilia ♡, pet names (princess, baby, sweetheart) ♡, he licks ur messy panties, makeshift gag on u! (the panties), spit + drool, pussy eating ♡, fingering, slight hair pulling, overstimming ♡, calls ur pussy 'she' ♡, reader is a crybaby ♡, spanks ur pussy once !, oral fixation, praise ♡, use of 'good girl' ♡, slight degradation (slut), pussy job ♡, vaginal sex, mating press, dumbification ♡, creampie ♡. Words: 13.3k

—

He isn’t here.

I don’t know where he is, but he isn’t here.

Sae Itoshi’s words have been rattling around your brain for the last thirty minutes. It’s late, late enough that the night sky above you is nought but a black abyss. The city lights pollute the infinite void above you and scare the stars enough to dim their shine.

Not a single twinkle can be seen as your feet come together and you look up, almost craving an answer from the heaven’s. All you receive in turn is an obsidian silence.

There’s a pang of dread writhing through your body as you continue to roam the desolate streets, weaving through alleyways as you see stores and restaurants that have been abandoned for the evening as the proprietor’s rest and recuperate for the day to follow. When the streets are lit by a blue sky and blazing sun and showcase a slew of potential customers that can be invited in to shop, or sit and gorge themselves on a sickly sweet dessert or a hearty meal.

It's 2am.

Everyone should be safely indoors, whether sleeping soundly or curled up with a hot drink and a cosy book; or even the sound of fictitious characters chattering about nothing in particular as a blue light from a screen fills the room and helps the audience feel a little less alone.

That’s what you should be doing.

Letting a false reality consume you in the safety of your own home instead of walking through the city like this. You have a cake in your hand and a balloon wrapped around your wrist, you’ve never felt lonelier.

A group of men emerge from an alleyway and your heart freezes. You know that you shouldn’t be out at night, alone. But nothing happens. A mere glance in your direction before they continue on their way, and you emit a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.

That stab of fear is the catalyst to convince you to go home, turning on your heel as you start walking in the direction of your apartment. Your strides become brisker as you think about being followed. Your mind intent on terrifying you despite nothing really happening.

It’s the terror of the dark, the unknown of that abyssal sky.

Is this the same view that Rin has, right now? You wonder if he’s cold, blanketed in the bitterness of the Autumn air with the same paranoia wracking through your body and bubbling beneath your skin as you traverse through the city.

He could be anywhere, after all.

He isn’t here.

I don’t know where he is, but he isn’t here.

It hurts as you reflect on all of the text messages you’d sent him leading up to your visit. Sae looked less than pleased to see you at such an unholy hour. In hindsight, you should have just stayed home. But you had the grandiose idea to surprise him and spend the night with him, despite not being invited.

It wouldn’t be a surprise if you were.

You assumed he was asleep when you didn’t receive a reply. But now it seems he’s actively ignoring you. You don’t think you’ve done anything wrong, though you suppose you’ll never know until he decides to get in touch.

Sae’s befuddled expression is cemented in your mind as you recall him drinking in the sight of you despite being irritated that you showed up unannounced. The way you stood with the cake and balloon must have surprised him, but you didn’t let it dissuade you.

“It’s a birthday tradition.”

“You’ve only known him for three months, how can you have a—”

“How do you think traditions get started? There’s always a first.”

He rolled his eyes at you, hard. But despite his desperate attempt of hiding it, there was an obvious smirk on his face as you spoke. It was childish, but charming, hearing you say something so innocent so brazenly. And still, his brief enchantment from your declaration couldn’t alter the facts.

He isn’t here.

I don’t know where he is, but he isn’t here.

It makes you worry that he’s grown tired of you. It isn’t like he wanted to be your friend, anyway. You forced that title upon him, and he just decided not to reject you.

That must count for something at least.

You think so, anyway.

He’s been in your life for a mere three months, and still, you can’t imagine your days without him in it anymore. You started working in the music section of a department store four months ago, and Rin was hired just a month later.

What he lacks in desire to communicate with anyone, he makes up for in his musical knowledge. You can’t fathom why else he was hired. A few of the other applicants might have been better suited, but you think your manager might have believed Rin to be the least trouble. He’s reserved and does his job well.

Immediately, you were instructed to show him the ropes despite only having a month’s extra experience at your disposal. Your boss had trained you, but seemed he was too lazy to offer the same to Rin. Why explain himself twice when he can just make you do it?

You don’t begrudge him, though. It gave you an excuse to talk to him, after all. He slowly but surely began to let you in, not that you gave him much choice. You’d always greet him excitedly as your workday began together, or you’d bring him his favourite coffee if you started a little later.

The possibility of a workplace crush wasn’t lost on you, but that’s all it was. It wasn’t obvious enough for him to comment on, or perhaps he simply didn’t care. After a few weeks of working with him, you thought he must be used to it. He was never short of female attention, despite never feeding into it.

He might find it easy to ignore when he receives it so often. You didn’t outwardly flirt with him. You were just a little nicer to him than your other colleagues. It became clear he wasn’t interested, though. You assumed he simply didn’t find you attractive or maybe he already had a girlfriend.

The latter, now, you know isn’t the case and now you… have a boyfriend… of your own. You’re happy to just be friends with him, you get along well. Even though he’s so blasé, you have fun with him at work.

You smirk when girls enter expecting to do nothing more than browse, and then they wind up listening to him explain facts about different bands they obviously aren’t interested in. He doesn’t even realise they’re fawning over him as they end up losing themselves to the allure of his dulcet tones and the glimmer of his dreamy teal eyes.

He’ll ring them up with a record and hand them a receipt, and you’ve lost count of how many times they give the receipt back with their phone numbers scribbled on. He always pockets them, carelessly, until given the opportunity to discard of them.

“You aren’t gonna call her?” you’d ask.

“I did my job, why would I need to call her?”

His monotone speech always leaves you wondering the truth.

Is he truly oblivious to it, or is he just pretending to be?

Your approach at work, however, is different. While he ignores flirting, you welcome it. Selling records isn’t a difficult task, people browsing often know what they want. And still, older men love talking down to you. It’s a daily occurrence when you’re on the clock, they get off on it. You aren’t sure how Rin feels about it, he seldom interferes.

You’ll flutter your lashes and flaunt your chest as a man whose wife doesn’t appreciate him anymore ogles you and tells you a thing or two, or ten, about his favourite bands that: “You’ve probably never heard of.”

The light in their eye is evident as their cocks stir in their pants while you pout and nod along to whatever they tell you. You throw a few compliments and act clueless as they prattle on and on. And, it’s funny how unique and profound they think they are for liking specific bands they’re certain you know nothing about.

And, sure, maybe the first dozen times you were a little out of your depth. But the more lecherous customers you got, the more you realised, they all listen to the same shit and you could probably recite the things they want to say to you right back at them.

You don’t, though, you remain compliant and interested and so wholly enthralled in them. Because that is how you make sales. Letting a sad old man think a hot young thing half their age is even a little interested in them. It’s easy, and it works. It’s easy to manipulate someone when you pretend they’re the coolest and most intriguing customer you’ve had all day.

Rin has spoilt a few sales for you since he started but it never dampens your mood. He doesn’t do it intentionally, of course, and it always leaves you grinning or snickering at the expense of the poor sap who thought you were putty in his hand.

You know a little about music, your taste has certainly broadened since you began working here. But Rin is almost entirely responsible for that. You know a little, but Rin knows a lot. And while you’re flirting up a storm, if you’re in close proximity to Rin, he’ll join in on the conversation. The older men tend to avoid him because somehow he happens to know the same, if not more, about the music they think they know everything about.

Somehow, Rin possesses more musical prowess than they could ever dream of, despite their age. He’s younger, but he’ll have more passion in him than they ever will.

You admire him, truly.

You like music, but Rin loves it. 

When the store is empty, he’ll introduce you to music you’d never heard and smile when he finds something you know you’ll be listening to on your walk home. And in turn you’d play pop songs you assumed he’d hate but he’d actually compliment and enjoy. He isn’t pretentious, he doesn’t think one genre is better than another.

He just loves music.

You think about your shifts together as you continue to head home. Maybe he has more interest in those girls than he lets on. Maybe that’s where he is right now. There’s a chance he isn’t being pulled into the all-consuming dread of the night sky like you. He’s hooking up as a birthday treat. You find your thoughts spiralling, wondering what type of girls he’s into and what it would take to be the girl that Rin Itoshi finds worthy of a chance.

And soon enough, you jolt as you feel your phone buzz against your hip. It’s sitting snuggly in the pocket of your sweatpants. The string from the balloon begins to pull and twang as it bounces from your wrist, you skilfully transfer the cake you’re holding in one hand to the other as you fish it out of your pocket.

Before you can fully digest the push notification of a spam email on your home screen, your screensaver is plunged into darkness. Your eyes widen as you’re met with an accept and decline button from an incoming call. You aren’t sure how to feel when you see Rin Itoshi in bold letters at the top of the screen. Relief flows through you, but so does worry.

And still, you answer.

“Hey.” he says, plainly. He isn’t the type of person you’re used to having phone calls with. You know he’s more of a texter, though his responses are dry. It’s enough to make plans and communicate with him easily.

“Hey…” you say, trailing off. It feels ominous. A call at 2am out of the blue from a guy that’s been ignoring you while you’re walking through the city is bound to leave you a little anxious. The sooner you get home, the better. “… Happy birthday.” you say, even now, there’s a smile on your face. It’s small, but he hears it.

“Thanks.” he says, coolly. You can’t fathom why he’d call you if he doesn’t actually want to talk to you. “You already said it at midnight, though.”

“Yeah… I wanted to say it again. You didn’t reply.” you remind him, gently. A beat of silence goes by before he speaks again.

“I know,” he responds, quietly. “I’m at the skate park.”

“Oh.” you say, not having expected that response. But, thinking about it now, it seems far more obvious than him hooking up with a random girl. You clear your throat, standing outside of your apartment as you find a way to continue the conversation. “… are you having fun?”

“I guess.” he tells you, clearing his throat. “Sae said you came over.”

“Y-Yeah, sorry. I didn’t know you weren’t home. It was… dumb.”

“It’s fine,” he says calmly. You can’t help but wonder if he agrees that it’s dumb or not, though it’s a fruitless thought to have. You know Rin well enough to know he won’t elaborate. You begin to pace back and forth, your heart pounding as you wait for the inevitable end of the conversation. “Come over.”

You stop, again, unsure if you heard him right. The smile on your face begins to widen as you hear him say it in your mind again and again. He wants you there, he wants to spend the early hours of his birthday with you.

The skatepark isn’t far from where you live. A ten minute walk, fifteen at most. Though with the pep in your step as you begin to head over there, you wouldn’t be surprised if you make it there in five.

“Are you sure?” you ask, in spite of it being too late. He’s already extended the invite and you’ll be there in no time flat. You can’t help but feel strange about the entire situation, though. It’s almost eerie how things are panning out. First he was ignoring your texts and now he’s calling you for the first time in a long time and inviting you to hang out.

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to see you.” he informs you. You feel your face begin to warm up, and you bite your lip in appreciation. “It’s dark, I’m by the half pipe.”

“Okay, I’ll see you in a few. Bye.”

He doesn’t say it back, simply ending the call as you venture towards your destination. The orange tint of the city soon becoming a distant memory as you nervously approach the outskirts of town.

—

The sound of wheels rolling against the wooden half pipe is louder than anything you’ve heard before as you approach. You don’t say anything, wondering if he’ll see you despite it being pitch black. You look up at the sky as you get closer, the light pollution has become a fast-fading memory as the stars dazzle a little brighter now.

His actions begin to slow as you approach, the wheels stopping completely as he finally sees you. He looks at you, carefully, shielding his eyes from the outer glow from the distant streetlights surrounding your body. One eye scrunches closed until you stand beside him. He towers above you, intimidating you with little effort. He tries to soften his expression, but his eyes struggle to adjust.

“Happy birthday… again.”

“Thanks, again.” he smiles a little. “You even got cake… Did you bring anything to eat it with?”

“No, because I thought you’d be at home. Why are you even—”

“It’s fine, I can take it home.” he tells you, taking the cake from your grip before you can react.

He sets it down on the ground, gesturing for you to follow him as he walks a little up the curve. You follow him, and he effortlessly raises you by your hips until you’re sitting comfortably on the flat surface. You’re thankful it’s so dark, you hope he’s unable to see how flustered you’ve become. You pout as you attempt to take shallow breaths and sweat begins to bead at your hairline.

You compose yourself as he hands the cake back to you, and he hoists himself up to sit by your side. He watches you as you shuffle your body, facing him head on with your legs crossed, and he immediately follows suit.

“A cake and a balloon, you went all out.” he says nonchalantly. You aren’t sure how to react until you see a slight smile play on his lips.

“I didn’t get you a gift.”

“That’s okay, this is more than you needed to do.” he explains. You move the cake out of your way before sliding closer to him, you untie the balloon from your own wrist and attach it to his. You can tell he wants to object, but you feel slight a slight note of pity emanating from him as you proceed.

He doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.

“How long do I have to keep this on for?” he wonders.

“The entire day, you’ve gotta sleep with this on.” you tease him, he laughs a little in turn before it falls deathly silent again. You shuck the little backpack you’ve been wearing off before opening the front compartment, rummaging through it to find what you’re searching for. “I didn’t bring candles… but maybe this can count for your gift.” you start.

He watches you, smirking happily as you retrieve a blunt and a lighter from your bag. You move the backpack aside and pull the cake closer. He continues to stare as you remove the plastic covering from the entirely chocolate cake, taking it from your hands as you hold the blunt between your lips. You light it, taking a hard drag before gently exhaling. His eyes close softly as you aim directly for his face, backing away slightly out of the line of fire. He opens them again, though, watching as you poke the blunt through the centre of the cake. The orange embers still burning as the wind blows.

“… Oh that’s gonna be gross if any ash gets on it.” you laugh. “It was a cute idea in my head.”

“Yeah, it’ll be disgusting.” he reiterates, quickly pulling the joint out from the middle before perching it between his lips. “This tastes like chocolate now.”

“That was my plan all along.” you grin. He takes a few more drags as you place the plastic packaging back over the cake, setting it aside once more. You reach your hand out as he hands it back to you, the balloon attached to him lagging along with him.

You can’t put a finger on why things seem to be so awkward between you. Maybe there’s a lingering feeling of hurt as you contemplate why he didn’t respond to your texts. It’s taking everything in you to not wish him a happy birthday for the fourth time.

Instead, you fuel the silence by smoking more and more. It’s not the strongest stuff you’ve ever had, but there’s a second one in your bag so you don’t feel guilty about smoking more than you probably should. He doesn’t say anything, and you’ve decided to keep your eyes firmly closed in a bid to ignore how weirdly uncomfortable things seem to be.

“Oh!” you exclaim, eyes shooting open quickly. It almost scares Rin, his body froze for a moment but you hadn’t realised in your excitement. “Did you make a wish?”

“What?” he raises an eyebrow, perplexed. It’s scary how similar he and his brother look. It’s the same expression Sae had offered you when you arrived at his apartment tonight.

“When you smoked… because it’s like your candle. So you should make a wish!” you explain, but you’re met with a continuous stare as he seems to be trying to unfurl the mess that is your train of thought. It makes perfect sense in your mind, but given his expression, you wonder if you just spoke another language. His incredulity fades and is soon replaced by an amused sneer.

“Are you high already?” he laughs.

“Oh… maybe. It has been a while.” you giggle.

Soon enough, you’re both laughing uncontrollably. Tears begin to stream down your face, and it only makes him laugh harder. And the sight of him so utterly entertained makes you laugh harder. It’s so rare to see him smile, let alone laugh. It’s hurting your stomach; you hold your sides as you allow yourself to fall backwards and carry on cackling.

“This— I didn’t think— It wasn’t supposed to be strong!” you struggle to explain, immediately bursting into laughter once again. He tries to keep composed but is soon laughing alongside you. He combs his fingers through his hair before using the sleeves of his hoodie to wipe away his own tears.

“It’s not. You’re just a lightweight.” he notes. He slowly moves, allowing his back to rest against the metal framing before throwing his hood up, tucking his knees into his chest. He’s still smiling, though, your silly outburst still at the forefront of his mind.

You sit upright again, your laughter finally beginning to subside as you look at him. His smile fades as yours does. And now, you’re both nervous. What went wrong? Why are things so weird? And then, you feel it brewing. Regardless of how badly you want to choke it down, you can’t seem to help yourself.

“Happy birthday.” you almost whisper, echoing his body language as you lean against the railing nearest to you. He scoffs lightly, but with a wide, cheesy grin on his face before looking at you again.

“You’ve said it four times now. I think you’re happier about my birthday than I am.”

“I think I am, too.” you giggle, biting your lip again as you look down at your knees. You quickly shake it away, remembering where you are and who you’re with. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know! I love being friends with you, Rin. And I’ve been excited to celebrate today with you. And we get to do it from pretty much the start!”

He goes quiet, scratching the back of his neck as he looks away uncomfortably. You gulp, nervously, almost retreating into your own body as you hug your legs tightly. He can barely bring himself to look at you, though you see his eyes occasionally flicker to the ever shortening blunt in your hand.

That’s when you decide to approach him, crawling towards him on your hands and knees like a demure, weak kitten desperate for approval. You hold it out for him, and he accepts it, slowly. You sit beside him, your legs touching as you look out to the distant city. It’s beautiful, from here. It looks so lively.

“… Why did you come here, tonight?” you wonder, hoping a gentle probe will provide some kind of insight to his mental state.

Your head slowly rotates as you look at him. Even in the darkness, his eyes shimmer brilliantly. Instead of anything of substance, though, his shoulders merely shrug. You decide not to pry any further. He isn’t the type you can force information out of, he’ll only give it willingly.

You know that well, even with only knowing him for three months. And because of that, your heart skips a beat as you hear him take a shallow breath, clearly wrestling with telling you something. Anything that may make things clearer to you.

“I— I suppose I had a feeling,” he pauses, taking another drag before letting his head thud gently backwards against the metal railing. “You were gonna try and do something like this.”

“… I didn’t know you would be so against it. I’m sorry.”

“No it’s fine,” he continues. “It doesn’t matter, we’re here now. Thank you for the balloon, and the cake. And this.” he says as he gestures to the blunt in his hand.

You feel a little at ease, now. Without saying a lot he’s said enough. Knowing the type of guy that Rin Itoshi is, you should have known he wouldn’t want anyone to make a fuss about his birthday. He’s reserved and low key, he’s an introvert, of course he wouldn’t want a fuss for his birthday.

And still, there’s a gnawing unease.

You’re a little forceful with your friendship, and you’re under no illusions that it’s likely annoying for him. But he’s never outright ignored you before. He holds no issue with telling you when you’re bothering him or he wants to be left alone, you’d never push his buttons on purpose.

But tonight…

There’s a tension between you that you can’t seem to place, and he seems intent on ignoring.

“… Rin?” you start. “Why did you ignore my texts?”

He shuffles uncomfortably, you even hear him clear his throat before taking another drag. And after he exhales, it’s followed by a disappointed sigh. Your anxiety spikes. What have you done wrong? It must be something to make him act like this. It’s so out of character to the Rin you know.

But maybe that’s the problem.

You barely know him.

Maybe this is the Rin you don’t know.

“… Do we have to discuss this now?”

—

You’ve almost forgotten where you are.

You’ve almost forgotten who you’re with as the calmness envelops you.

There’s a palpable tension between the two of you that you can’t seem to pinpoint or address. You’re high, stupidly so. And still logical enough to not poke the angsty bear that is Rin Itoshi. You’ve been lying on your back, admiring the starry sky as you contemplate why things are the way they are with your favourite co-worker.

He’s more than that, though.

You think he might be your best friend.

Is there a set amount of time that needs to be spent before addressing him as such? Three months doesn’t feel like a lot, but the time you’ve known him hasn’t just been shifts.

The days you’d meet him at work soon turned into times you’d spend commuting there with him. Instead of taking the bus home you’d walk with him. When you’d bring him coffee he’d start to return the favour by buying you your favourite snacks from the bakery.

Instead of walking near your apartment he’d walk you all of the way to the door. And eventually, he’d come in. After the first time he accidentally fell asleep on your couch, he’d spend the night purposefully. You’ve spent countless nights getting high together at your place, and soon enough you’d be doing the same at his apartment.

You didn’t know what a big deal it was that he introduced you to his older brother until he told you how strained their relationship had been in the past. But they live together, now, and they seem fine. Whether Sae likes you is still up for debate, but he’s joined in when you’re getting stoned together in the front room and arguing with his brother about which music you should play. Their tastes are similar, but things vary when getting down to the specifics.

Their parents taste has affected their own, Rin favouring his mother’s whilst Sae prefers his father’s.

Three months ago you could barely pry his name out of him. But now, you’re drowning in the overwhelming sky that looms over you thinking about all of the time you’ve spent together. You’ve known how much you enjoy being with him since that very first day, though you aren’t quite sure if he feels the same way.

“I’m hungry.” you say aloud rather than to yourself like you’d intended. You sit upright when you hear Rin begin to shuffle, too, realising he’d been reflecting in the obsidian mirror above him, too. He stares at you, expressionless. “Are you ma—” you want to ask him if he’s feeling some type of way about you, but you’re interrupted by a loud rumble from his stomach.

“Fuck.” he sighs.

“… Should we eat the cake?” you wonder. You can’t hide the devious grin on your face as you enjoy Rin’s cool exterior being foiled by the all too human need of hunger. You don’t even wait for him to answer, pulling the cake closer for the umpteenth time before removing the packaging. He grimaces as you break off a chunk with your thumb and forefinger, crumbs tumbling off as you lift it into your mouth. And you moan, obscenely, as the sugary sweetness encases your tongue. “Oh my God that’s good. Try some!” you encourage him.

“… fuck it.” he rolls his eyes, dragging himself closer to the cake before copying you. His eyes roll, again, this time into the back of his head as he begins to satiate his hunger.

You both continue to eat, silently, savouring the flavour of the cake you so expertly chose. It’s hard, being like this. Because you know that usually you’d be chattering away about other employees you work with even though Rin doesn’t care about gossip. He’ll listen to you intently while he eats and before you know it his plate is clean while you’re struggling to understand how he eats so fast.

But tonight, you’re silent.

All of your thoughts remain trapped in your mind as you eat. Bite after bite as it crumbles and messes beneath you and tarnishes the hollow wood beneath you.

And it’s funny, you’re the one who’s usually watching Rin as you talk and talk until you’ve run out of steam. But tonight, you can barely look at him. The same can’t be said for him, though. You see him looking at you a few times when you dare to offer a glance his way, but just as quickly, you avert your eyes.

He doesn’t, though.

He eats slowly, admiring you as you eat the cake you’d so kindly purchased for him. He can’t ignore how crestfallen you look, and yet, there’s still a radiance about you. The outer glow of the city lights barely halos around you like you are some kind of angel. The gentle yet biting breeze of the September sky billows through your hair that you’d messily tucked away into a low bun.

His intense turquoise eyes only leave you for fractions of a second when he needs to blink. He isn’t sure why he’s staring, but he’s putting it down to being stoned. It’s almost like an anchor, watching you attentively as you embrace the rich, sugary taste that you can’t seem to get enough of. While he feels like he’s moving in slow motion, his consumption slow and steady.

He chuckles lightly as he sees a small piece of cake fall from your fingers and you desperately try to bite at it. It’s too late, however, and you simply huff as you look at it beside you. He smirks, again, when he sees that you’ve accidentally smudged chocolate on the corner of your lip.

Your head jerks as he whistles quickly, like a dog owner summons the attention of their pet. He closes the distance between you as you leans in close to you, your heart rate heightening as you note how close his face is to yours. His throat bulges as he swallows the cake he’d been eating, and your eyes drop to his lips. You can’t even bring yourself to smile when you note a few gentle streaks of chocolate that have stained between the creases, you only feel your stomach sink when you look back into his eyes and realise he’s been watching you stare.

He leans in closer, and your eyes flutter shut. Though they soon open again when you fail to register the press of his lips on your own. He wipes the smudge from your face and shows the chocolate residue to you.

He’s paralysed you.

As much as you want to smile, to laugh awkwardly at what a fool you’ve made of yourself, you can’t. You’re frozen in place as you watch him. Nothing could have prepared you for the sight of him gently wetting his tongue with a deliberate curl of his tongue. His eyes bore into yours without faltering as his lips pucker around his thumb, making sure there isn’t a single trace of chocolate still there.

He grins, seeing the quick puff of breath you exhale in desperation. Your eyes flicker around, a feeble attempt of looking anywhere but at him. You squeak, quietly, as his sultry tone breaks the overwhelming silence between you.

“I’m not usually a chocolate fan,” he tells you before grabbing another chunk of cake. “But this is really good.”

“… M-Maybe it’s because you’re high?” you respond after wracking your mind for something to say in turn. You can’t wrap your head around what that was. You’ve never seen him like this before.

He’s wordlessly decided he’s blaming everything on being high.

Maybe you can, too.

“… Rin?” you speak, plucking up the courage from somewhere as you dare to whisper his name. He looks at you, briefly, before rolling his eyes. He knows. Of course he already knows what you’re about to ask him. He keeps avoiding the question that you’re yearning for an answer for.

“Don’t.” he tells you.

“But—”

“Just… don’t.” he commands, though his voice loses the assertiveness it had previously. He looks at you, and you swear you feel your heart twist in your chest as you see what you can only deduct as disappointment looming in his eyes. He looks at your backpack, again, and back at you. “… did you bring more weed?”

—

You lie side by side as you take turns passing the blunt between one another. He does all he can to focus on the sky, even when he feels your eyes on him. Your head turns, chin almost resting on your shoulder as you stare. You stare brazenly just as he did before.

And still, he won’t look at you.

He takes a long drag and doesn’t exhale, his lips slightly ajar as he allows a thin trail of smoke to dance from between his lips. And you stare on, longingly, as you wonder what’s going on inside that head of his.

You wish you could crawl inside of him and burrow your way into his brain. There’s nothing more you want right now than to nestle through brain matter until you reach the uncertain core at the centre of everything. The dismal part of his brain that’s so secretive and yet so inviting.

What does he want from you?

He turns his head as he passes the blunt to you, though he stutters backwards a little when he notices you were already looking at him. A soft ‘tch’ leaves him before you take it from him.

“Quit it.” he warns you, though there’s no malice or intent in it. He looks at you softly, and your own harsh gaze becomes gentler. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.” he tells you. Your breath hitches as he speaks, but you can’t bring yourself to respond.

Your eyes close as his fingers begin to tenderly caress your cheeks, and he tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

“You’re so… fragile.” he says. Your eyes shoot open, at that. He laughs a little, though it’s barely noticeable, and it doesn’t deter him from his careful touch. He means it, you can feel it in the way he’s being with you. He’s toying with you as if you were made of glass. And if that’s how he feels, you wonder why he’s doing this at all.

“Rin?”

“Don’t.”

“No… why did you invite me out here?” you ask, hoping to disarm him. His expression that had hardened so quickly is gone in a blink, an earnest smile takes over him instead. He withdraws his hand, and now, you’ve never felt colder.

“I wanted to see you, that’s all.” he explains.

And it’s enough, it should be enough. It’s an answer to your question and yet it gives you so little. You’re starved, though. What he gives you isn’t enough, it’s never enough. You’ve made do for so long with useless scraps that you forgot what it feels like to truly be satiated, you want to eat him alive. You’d devour him whole, tear meat from the bone with ravenous fangs if it meant you could finally be satisfied. But as soon as your lips part, you close them once more.

You no longer have the energy, your body can’t be sustained from pitiful scraps any longer.

“Things are weird.” he mumbles. You nod, agreeing, and he looks at you wistfully. “I don’t want them to be.”

“… I don’t know how to fix it, Rin.” you confess.

He clears his throat, a little surprised by your answer before he looks up at the sky again. You follow suit, wondering what he could be thinking about this time.

“Why didn’t you get me a gift?” he cuts through the sharp, agonising quiet with something you really hadn’t expected him to say. Almost in unison, you’re looking at one another yet again. Your eyes narrow, though his face remains stoic. You aren’t sure why, really. You love giving gifts, but perhaps a small part of you thought he wouldn’t appreciate one from you.

And maybe a smaller part of you thought he might not deserve one.

“I thought you didn’t care?”

“I don’t,” he nods, agreeing with the sentiment. “But you bought a cake, and a balloon. I was wondering why a gift is where you draw the line.”

“It wasn’t about drawing the line.” you tell him, rolling onto your side so you can face him directly. He doesn’t do the same, but he gingerly pulls the joint from your fingers before smoking a little more. “I didn’t know what to get you.” you lie, and he knows it too. He doesn’t shy away from making it clear, either, scoffing at your pitiful excuse.

“I don’t believe that for a second.” he says through an exhale, smoke escaping his lungs and entering the atmosphere as he talks. “You make notes of things you see while you’re shopping you think your other friends might like.”

“You’re not like my other friends.”

“… I guess.”

“You didn’t even want to see me tonight and you only invited me here because you felt bad, right? If I’d gotten you a gift, you would have hated it. I don’t know why… but I know you wouldn’t have been happy no matter what I bought for you.”

He pauses, a chilled breath revealing the true cruelty of the autumnal air shudders by his teeth. You want to shiver, and yet you’re forcing yourself not to. Regardless of how awkward the night has been, you don’t want it to end. You don’t want to give him a reason to send you home so you can part ways, the growing issue between you never becoming resolved.

“You’re probably right,” he smirks, “But I think you would have gotten me something nice. You’re thoughtful.”

And with that, the urgent need to shiver through the cold has subsided. His words seemingly enough to warm you. It’s sweet, and simple, and it makes you realise how easily pleased you are. You worry that there might be something wrong with you. He says one nice thing about you and you’re satisfied.

It’s embarrassing.

“What would you have wanted?” you ask, meekly.

“… I don’t know.” he shrugs. And, really, you shouldn’t have expected anything less than this. He’s aloof, an enigma you’re too simple to explore. You can’t delve into his mind because you don’t understand how someone can come to be so standoffish and reserved. “Maybe something to drink.” he hints.

“There’s flavoured water in my bag.” you smile.

“What flavour?”

“Strawberry,”

“Meh…” he thinks, debating whether he wants to drink it or not. “Ugh… I’ve got cotton mouth. Why did you buy flavoured?”

“Because I like it! And, again, I assumed we’d be doing this at your place.” you smile, teeth chattering unintentionally as you’re reminded what season you’re in. He looks over his shoulder as he hears you, watching as you try to hide how uncomfortable you are. He grabs the water bottle from your bag before sitting upright properly.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“N-No, I’m fine. It’s okay.” you nod. He shakes his head, quickly untying the balloon from his wrist before attaching it to your backpack so that he can pull his hoodie off. Your breathing staggers as his t-shirt rides up along with it, exposing his toned musculature before he hands it to you. “You didn’t have to give me this…” you tell him quietly, hugging it against your body as you enjoy the warmth of his own body heat.

He doesn’t say anything, he just waits patiently for you to put it on. His face scrunches at the taste of the water, but continues to drink it eagerly. There’s no better option, right now, and the dryness of his mouth is almost enough to make him choke.

“Thanks.” you smile after bundling yourself up in his hoodie. He nods curtly, handing the water bottle to you. You open your mouth repeatedly as you try and determine if your mouth is equally as dry before you begin to chug gratefully.

“All I wanted for my birthday this year was to lose my virginity.” he says, bluntly. He starts laughing as you choke on your drink, sputtering wildly and using the sleeve of his hoodie to dab up the droplets on your chin. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what?’ You’re a virgin? No you’re not, you’re fucking lying!” you reply. He laughs again as you sit fully upright and face him so that you can question him more.

“Why am I a liar?”

“B-Because! Oh my God, you have girls hitting on you at work every single day. And you don’t, I don’t know, you don’t have virgin energy.”

“Girls don’t hit on me.”

“Ohhhh I hate you, you suck. They do, are you fucking with me right now? They do!” you bark back angrily. An amused smirk remains fixated on his face as he can see your temper begin to boil over.

“Even if they did hit on me, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna have sex with them.”

“I actually hate you.” you bemoan, “This is fucked up because I can’t prove it either way. But you’re lying, I know you are!”

“Whatever helps you through this, sweetheart.” he grins, snatching the water bottle back from you. He looks at you from the corner of his eye, at how you’ve seized up from a simple little pet name. But you aren’t frozen for long, thawing out quickly from your simmering temper.

Whether this is a harmless little prank to tease you is now irrelevant, because all you can think about is what a head fuck he is. And, as much as you both might prefer, you can’t blame it on weed. Maybe if this animosity had started after you’d been smoking together, but he was ignoring you before.

And that’s when you’re brought back to it.

“Why were you ignoring my fucking texts, Rin?” you ask, harshly. And now, it’s enough for him to choke on the drink. Maybe he’s never heard you be so assertive, before. Maybe it’s because he thought you were having a harmless joke around. Nothing tonight has been harmless, though. It’s all been weird, uncomfortable, palpable.

Whether intentional or not, he’s forcing you to suffer and refusing to tell you why.

“If you don’t wanna be my friend anymore, fine, whatever. But this is fucked up, so just tell me.” you explain, voice trembling as you do. You aren’t cold, anymore, but your throat feels like it’s about to close.

“… You’re so fucking stupid.” he mutters. Twisting the lid on and off your bottle repeatedly before he shoves it aggressively back in your bag. “Do you really not get it?”

“Don’t call me that, asshole.” you snipe back.

“I don’t want to be your fucking friend.” he responds. Your stomach drops and you fight to hold back tears, failing miserably as they silently roll down your cheeks. He watches on, his aggressive expression faltering as he watches you try and wipe them away quickly.

“That’s… shitty.” you sniffle. “That’s all you had to say. You didn’t have to invite me out here and embarrass me.”

“You don’t get it.” he interjects. He shuffles closer to you, and you scramble to evade him. You want to grab your bag and run from here. From him. But as you try and hit him, push him away, he grabs your wrists and stares at you with a desperation you’ve never encountered with him before. “You’re— you’ve got a boyfriend.”

“… Huh? You ignored my texts because I have a boyfriend? What are you—”

“Listen to what I’m saying, you’re not stupid but you’re acting it because you’re riled up.” he tells you, calmly. You struggle in his hold once more, but his grip remains firm. “I didn’t want… you… fussing about my birthday. Because you have a boyfriend.”

You’re stumped. As much as you want to yell and argue what he’s saying, you can’t. He isn’t making sense and you do feel stupid, now. He’s saying words that don’t mean anything, words that are irrelevant to what you’re discussing to deflect from what you’re asking.

Has he always been like this?

You don’t know, really. You don’t know if you’ve been carrying this so-called friendship on your back and filling in the blank awkward silences with chatter about nothing. But you thought you were more than this. You thought he was smarter than this. He’s intellectual and carries himself confidently, and yet, in this moment, you can’t help but think he’s a coward.

“You sound like a fucking idiot right now.” you scowl. “Ignoring me because I wanted to celebrate your birthday because I have a boyfriend? What kind of stupid reason is that?”

His lips tighten to a straight line and porcelain skin turns pink, you can see it even encased in the darkness of the early morning sky. You can see his eyes shake as he looks at you. He wants to say something but he’s fighting against it. You can tell, he’s holding back words he wants to say as he searches for something less confrontational to tell you.

But he can’t.

For once in his life, he can’t.

“Why are you with him?” he asks, bluntly. You’re taken aback, so much so that you laugh. It’s short, and makes his anger burn further in him as he watches your reaction. “Do you even love him? Scratch that, do you even like him?”

“Fuck you, Rin. That’s none of your business!”

“You don’t, do you?” he laughs, only now it’s at your expense. It feels patronising and mean. But he can’t help himself. You hadn’t hesitated to laugh at him, only in your disbelief. But he’s being cruel. He’s doing it on purpose. “You can’t even lie to yourself. Why are you with him?”

“I hate you. I fucking hate you, Rin.” you tell him. You mean it, too. You’re trembling and you remember you’re wrapped up in his hoodie. It feels suffocating to have the warmth of cotton that had been keeping him comfortable now clinging to your skin. “Why are you being like this?”

You say flames lick behind his irises before they’re extinguished, his furious glare being doused by a glossy sheen as tears silently fall from your eyes and roll down your now sodden cheeks.

He pulls you nearer to him by the material of his hoodie, his large hand encasing your face as he tries to force you to look at him. You turn your head roughly, defiant in your pursuit of making a stand.

“Hey.” he says, it’s abrasive and stabs through you. Your soaking eyes stare into his, and he gently wipes your ever falling tears with a gentle rub of his thumbs. He smiles, a little, and you feel dizzy. Your brain is fried as his mood changes once again. “You really don’t get it?”

You blink, shaking your head.

Deep down, you know. You have a niggling feeling that you know why he’s being like this, but you worry you’re overthinking things. There must be something simpler, something likelier than what you’re delusionally imagining.

“H-He dumped me.” you say almost breathlessly. His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t dare interrupt. He’s engaged, and honestly, you don’t think he’s been more eager to listen to anything you’ve said before. “He said…”

“Go on.”

“… ‘You forget who your boyfriend is. You spend more time with Rin than you do with me.’ I— he’s right. I have more fun with you at work than I ever did on dates with him.”

“Why were you with him?” he asks, his face moving closer to your own.

“Because… the guy I like… liked… doesn’t feel the same way.”

“You don’t like him anymore?” he wonders, looking between your eyes and your lips. You shake your head gently, and you see a small slither of saliva slip down his throat. “Why not?”

“I—” you breathe softly, acutely aware of how close he is to you, now. You aren’t imagining things, are you? Is this really happening? He’s been a mess tonight, you can’t trust him and you certainly can’t trust your own judgement. He’s just teasing you.

He’s just teasing you.

“Why are you asking me this, Rin?” you whisper.

“I think you know why.”

“Tell me, please.”

He grunts, there’s a little force behind his hand as he cups the side of your face. You yelp as he closes the distance between you both, slotting his lips against your own as he pours his feelings into your first kiss. You don’t even register as he moves you so that your back is flat against hollow wood, almost towering above you as he cages you below.

You lose yourself to the dizzying feeling of finally experiencing his lips on yours for the very first time. Something you’ve wanted, maybe, since the moment you set eyes on him.

But you never thought it would happen. Not ever, and definitely not like this. He pulls away for a moment, admiring how drunk you look from one little kiss before he realises he can’t bear to part from you. You mewl into another intoxicating kiss and he moans into your mouth.

“I’ve been crazy about you for ages,” he mumbles. You bite your lip as his begin to travel along your cheek and kiss across your jawline. And you moan, unashamedly as he decorates your neck in sloppy open mouthed kisses and sucks his signature into delicate skin. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry I made you cry. I shouldn’t have ignored you…” he murmurs against your pulse point.

“I-It’s okay,” you whimper. “I get it, now!”

“That prick didn’t deserve you. You’re too good for him, knew that the minute he came by the store.” he tells you. He grabs your face roughly and kisses you messily. He stops, and it’s abrupt, as he looks into your eyes yet again. “Couldn’t fucking stand it whenever he came in. And whenever you talked about him. Were you trying to make me jealous?”

You nod, giggling before he kisses you again. “I guess— it worked?”

“Yeah, princess. It worked.” he grins before kissing you again, lips reattaching to your neck as he mindlessly ruts his hips against your clothed core. “Didn’t wanna risk letting you make a big deal about my birthday ‘cause I knew I’d fall too hard for you, fuck, you don’t know what you do to me.”

“W-Wait…” you stutter through a moan. “Were you lying about… the only thing you want for your birthday?”

He smirks, looking around before he looks back at you. His smile is devilish, you cock your head as you look up at him.

“Do you want to find out?”

You look around just as he did, knowing nothing could deter you from this before looking up at him again. And, without hesitating, you nod again. He bares his teeth with a smile, the happiest you’ve ever seen him, before he stands on his knees. You don’t move, watching him in awe as deft fingers curl into the waistline of your joggers, pulling them down along with your racy black panties.

He separates them from the grey material of your sweats, studying them intently. You see thoughts swirling behind his eyes but can’t decipher them. Though your face soon flushes with an unbearable warmth as you witness him studying the gusset of the black lace, his thumb gently prodding the pooling slickness that had gathered there.

“Cute.” he grins.

You squeak and cover your face as his tongue leaves his mouth, slowly licking up the seat of your panties to taste you. He moans, unabashedly as he savours your essence, he hovers over you again and moves your hands away. You’re panting, eyes stuttering as you struggle to decide where you should be looking. He doesn’t let you look anywhere but at him.

“Taste.” he commands, balling up the material before carefully slotting it betwixt your swollen lips. You’re drooling, instantly, not having expected this from him. And already, you’ve decided.

He isn’t a fucking virgin.

“Your slutty little panties taste sweet. I’m sure the real thing is even better.” he muses, sinking his head lower before, pushing up your hoodie and vest to expose your midriff.

He kisses gently down your sternum before slowly, purposefully, oh so delicately kissing your mons. Teal irises stringently stare as he does. Your body is pliant, and you allow him without question to hike your leg over his shoulder. A harsh spit of saliva hits your clit, and you can’t help but moan. Whether it was the feeling, the sound, or watching him do it, you aren’t sure. But he grins, cockily, clearly pleased with himself before he tormentingly strokes the pads of his index and middle finger across your swollen clit.

“Mmpf,” you keen, the black lace still filling your orifice and preventing you from speaking. You’ve never experienced this, before. You’re used to being used as a toy to please men you’re with. Your pleasure always coming second to their own. You can’t remember the last time you’d gotten head. And those guys had experience.

Maybe he is a virgin.

Maybe he thinks he needs to be generous because that’s what he’s been told…

“C’mere,” he mutters before reaching upwards, yanking the saliva drenched panties from between your lips. He moans as you look at him with a heavy-lidded stare and spit slicken lips. Strings of drool trickling from your lips and some still attached to your panties has his cock stirring further. He holds his eyes closed, for a beat longer than necessary, before looking at you again. “I want to hear how good you feel.”

And with that, your eyes are rolling back into your head as he finally latches his lips to your sensitive clit. He suckles and licks across it like he was put on this earth with the sole purpose of making you cum. He worships your throbbing bead like his tongue was designed with your pleasure in mind.

You card your fingers through his dark hair, yanking lightly when he makes you feel just right. He moans, boisterously, humming into your folds as he makes a point of savouring your delicate flesh. And at this point, you don’t know which of you is enjoying this more.

He moves a little, giving himself room to make a show of licking his fingers before slowly sliding them into your tight heat. Your voice echoes as he curls them, his long, dextrous fingers delving to depths you hadn’t realised existed. His arm wraps tightly around your thigh as you struggle to adapt to such blinding pleasure, desperate to wriggle away from him but his hold remains firm.

“Just relax, baby,” he hums before diving into your flesh once more. His tongue darts quickly, keeping pointed as he swipes it across your pulsing bead. You can’t help but squirm, entirely at the mercy of his mouth and fingers and completely unwilling to let you go. “Mmmpf, you’re so sweet, princess. Could do this all day.”

“F—uuuuuck, it’s too much. I c-can’t—”

“Yeah you can, just want you to feel good. So let go.”

You’re breathless as he maintains focus on your folds. You can’t help but whimper and whine as he slurps and suctions around your overstimulated clit, his fingers working in tandem to help aid in achieving your eventual demise.

It’s better than anything you’ve ever felt from a man before. It might even be better than anything you’ve ever done to yourself.

And still, you’re resisting.

Maybe in your weed addled mind you can’t help but swirl in a vortex of paranoia and confusion. It’s odd, the entire night spent with Rin Itoshi has been uncomfortable and strange and you can’t quite believe how things have ended up.

Your so-called best friend has his face buried between your legs, inflicting a heightened pleasure you’ve never felt before after such an intense exchange of words. You’re resisting it, resisting him, because it doesn’t feel real.

Did you get too high?

“Baby,” he muses. “Are you nervous?”

“N-No,” you respond, your entire body jolting and shivering as the freezing air tangles with your risen tension and building arousal. You won’t be able to hang on for much longer, of that, you’re sure. Not with the way his fingers are sunken and toying with your g-spot. Whether you want to or not, you’re soon to unfurl.

“Cum for me, princess, please.” he begs, “I’ve wait so long to be with you, like this. Don’t let me down, now.”

“Oh, f-fuck, Rin.” you gasp, legs spasming as your back arches as you’re forced into an explosive orgasm. Your moaning and whining resounds throughout the skatepark, and any passersby will undoubtedly hear you as you hit your untimely undoing.

He doesn’t let up, though, continuing to pump his fingers and lick your pulsing clit. You’re too delirious to notice the cocky smile on his face as he works you through the best orgasm you’ve ever had in your entire fucking life.

You’re breathless, resting on your elbows as you look down at him. And you all but cry as he uses his thumbs to spread your pussy lips apart, utterly enamoured by the way it pulsates and clenches around nothing after being worked how he knows you’ve always deserved.

“T-That wasn’t— your first time… w-was it?” you ask gingerly, still panting as tears continuously roll down your cheeks.

He lets go, then, crawling up your body to kiss your face and lick up the tears you couldn’t help but shed. He squeezes your cheeks until your lips pucker, sloppily kissing you with an adventurous tongue. It doesn’t last, though, looking over his shoulder and down your body to guide his hand to your feminine warmth once more. You yelp as you feel a light spank, before he rubs you again.

You shake your head, but he nods in response.

“Rin, please…” you breathe.

“Has anyone ever told you how fucking pretty your perfect little pussy is? I think she wants to cum again, you were so noisy the first time, princess. You can handle one more f’me.”

Your eyes cross as his fingers slot inside of your drooling cunt yet again, the heel of his palm massaging your spent clit again as he sets a brutal pace with his fingers.

“So fucking cute, baby. Such a pretty cry-baby f’me, so gorgeous. Does it feel that good?” he asks.

“Y-Yes, God, yes, Rin. S’good!” you tell him.

He kisses you, again, silencing your whining tone and swallowing your precious mewling that he can’t seem to suffocate. Even with his lips on yours, you can’t help but break away. He moans with you, faux sympathy or genuine pleasure, you can’t tell. But the way your precious little voice rushes straight to his cock can’t be denied. It’s taking everything he has to not hump himself against you, knowing he won’t last a single second if he attempts to pleasure himself as well as you.

You’re barely conscious as he continues, your toes curl as you feel him target the spongey spot inside you which lead to your downfall mere moments ago. Your eyes continue to water, tears spilling into your hairline as you can’t seem to process and navigate the absolute bliss he’s forcing upon you. But you accept it, gratefully. The thought of disappointing him on his birthday has left you a pliable little doll for him to do as he pleases.

He’s had you on such a pedestal and you hadn’t even known it. You’ve unintentionally flaunted your relationship in front of him that you didn’t even know he cared about, leaving him in turmoil and dread as he thought about what things he was doing to you when it should have been him instead.

But he wasn’t good enough. He couldn’t win you over because your heart lay elsewhere. Rin Itoshi knew more so than you that a little prick like your ex would never be good enough for you. He couldn’t satisfy, he couldn’t win your heart.

Rin can do both.

Rin has done both.

“How many guys have made you cry from just their fingers?” he asks, whispering in your ear. Subdued whispers of his gravelly tone rush straight to your cunt, an outpour of slick slowly leaking out of your overstimulated slot and coating his greedy fingers. “Messy little pussy, so pretty, princess. If you’re crying from my fingers, imagine how my cock will feel.”

The thought alone has you creaming for him. Even he looks surprised as your body begins to jolt as the pressure begins to abate from what had been your building peak. He watches in awe as you cum gloriously and gift his fingers your sweet, pearlescent sheen. His fingering wanes and slows as you come down, though your body is still wracked with aftershocks.

And he withdraws them, almost bringing them to his own mouth before deciding against it. He spreads your mouth open carefully before massaging your essence onto your own tongue.

“Suck, baby. Good girls clean up their mess,” he nods.

You grab his hand with both of yours to keep it steady, bobbing your head along with length of his digits as you display what you’re capable of with your mouth. You drool copiously, strings dangling from your chin as you keep your eyes firmly fixated on his. The act of demeaning yourself for his enjoyment has your pussy clenching, oozing more slick as you revel in his pleasure.

“You’re such a little slut,” he smiles, and you can’t help but giggle around his fingers.

He offers a slight laugh, though it’s breathy and barely there. You amuse him, but you’ve always amused him. He’s in disbelief that this is happening, just as you are. But being high is giving him a confidence he’d never dream of if he were sober. You can’t quite believe you’re finally doing this with him. But he can’t believe you even contemplated this with him.

He's spent nights alone fantasising about being intimate with you like this. Making you cum from his tongue and helping you ride his cock as you both cum in unison and feel a blinding love and pleasure neither of you have ever felt as you explore each other’s bodies. Nights when that alone would suffice and he’d have to clean up the mess he’d made of himself with an old t-shirt and spare sock.

And that would be followed by mornings you’d greet him with a happy go lucky smile, not a single solitary idea in your head of the depravity he feels when he thinks about you laid bare for him. You’d been utterly clueless about how desperately he longed to feel you wrapped around him, screaming his name while he made you feel what he was certain no other man could.

How could he want to see you for his birthday, spoiling him rotten and behaving like a girlfriend should when you had already dedicated yourself to another man? He couldn’t bear it. He wanted to put his foot down, he was desperate to set a boundary and maybe cut you out of his life for good because his feelings were getting more intense than he thought he could feasibly control.

But, alas, he’s never been able to resist you.

He read your text messages over and over and over again until he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He had to talk to you. He had to hear your voice. If he’d known being aloof with you would have gotten you to this point. Suckling on his fingers like a girl trying to impress and so desperate to please her first ever crush, he would have done it sooner.

He allows you a few more seconds to taste yourself, to suck his digits like a cock you’ve longed to worship since the dawn of time, before he withdraws them. You pout, but watch as he stands on his knees and pulls down his pants enough to free his aching length. His thick member springing from their confines and slapping against his t-shirt, a messy stain soon to be born there and visible for all to see.

He doesn’t care, though.

He moans as the relief from the release surges through him and glances down at you triumphantly. You can’t even look at him, your eyes glued to his thick length as it flexes and dribbles desperately. He’s cut, and he’s beautiful. You wouldn’t hesitate to choke on his length if he forced it down your throat.

“Do you want it?” he asks, grabbing and squeezing at the base before he tugs himself slowly. “Spread your pretty legs open f’me.”

You nod, doing as you’re told as you bare your cunt on full display. He doesn’t enter you, though, sandwiching his cock between your sticky folds.

It’s euphoric, for him, feeling your lewd folds kiss him repeatedly as he rocks his hips slowly. His perfect, pretty tip nudging against your swollen pearl again and again. He knows it’s enough to get him off, so he makes sure to go slow. Though, your hopeless expression and pathetic mewling could mutually be the end of him.

“P-Put it in.” you tell him, only to be met with a string of disappointed tuts.

“Is it my birthday or yours?” he asks rhetorically, “You didn’t even ask nicely. Knew you were a little brat, but thought you’d have some manners when you wanna make my birthday so special.”

“Fuck, Rinnie, ‘m sorry,” you apologise, biting your lips as he looks down at you with a bemused glare. “J-Just, unf. You’re so big. W-Wanna feel you inside. Just wanna make you feel good.” you tell him, a feeble attempt of explaining yourself. Your wanton desire is too much to handle, you think you might pass out if you don’t feel him inside of you.

He bends down, kissing your cheek carefully before he guides his cock to your clenching entrance.

You yelp as he dips in the tip before taking it out just as quickly. He repeats it, again and again. And then slides in deeper. He withdraws, and then deeper. He repeats, until he’s deeper. And without warning, he stabs his length into you, entirely, filling your throat and lungs with nothing but him.

He chuckles as you become accommodated to his thickness, lip wobbling as you realise you’ve truly never felt something so overpowering inside of you before. Other lovers, toys, nothing has ever compared to him.

“I love you,” you whimper pathetically before your eyes shoot open in realisation. You screw your eyes shut, hoping he hadn’t heard you. But of course, your voice is crystalline, and he hangs on each and every word you say.

“I just put it in, princess, is it making you a little dumb already? Fuck, you’re so fucking cute.” he kisses you fervently, his readiness to tease you eclipsed by the feeling, the realisation, that you’re wrapped around him just as he’d dreamed about. “You’re so tight, fuck, feels like you’re gonna break me.”

“Fuck, Rin…”

“I love you,” he blushes, pushing your legs into a mating press as he begins to fuck down and hard into you. You’re can barely form a coherent word, let alone a thought. But, you don’t care. You’re happy to turn your brain off after hearing that. He loves you, he really loves you.

Your tongues tangle as he pounds into you, so rough and deep you fear you might suffocate. But you’re brought to life, revitalised again and again and again as he whispers pathetically against your lips.

“I love you, l love you, IloveyouIloveyou—” every fibre of his being wills him to stop, telling him that he’s embarrassing himself. But how can that be true when each utterance of his adoration has your pliant body and addled mind squeezing his cock for all it’s worth?

Your cute little cunt so enamoured by three simple words that she’s trying to milk his cock of everything. It’s yours, it’s what you deserve, it’s what you’ve earnt for unknowingly being his girl for so many months. Each battering of his cock in your unprotected cunt leaves a bruising ache on the back of your weary legs.

He hopes he isn’t hurting you, you’re barely cognizant enough to verbalise a single syllable. And yet, somehow, you repeat his words back to him like a doting, braindead toy.

“L-Love, I love— you— Rinnie!” you manage. It’s all he needs. It’s all either of you need as his cockhead continues to knock against your g-spot and your tightness swallows him and cuddles him like he never knew he needed.

But he did know.

He’s known for so long that being in your embrace and fucking every thought out of your pretty little head would make him feel like a man reborn. Because, at the end of the day, he’s got you. He’ll always have you to find comfort in. Whether it be the warmth of your gentle hold while his head rests in your chest, ear angled to hear how your heart beats for him. Or like this. Using your perfect little walls to make you keen for him, his pretty little plaything he can empty himself inside of until you’re both spouting nothing but sweet nothings to each other.

It's for your benefit, as well as his.

You need the release just as he does.

You’ve been pent up for so long and hadn’t even realised it. But you will, now. You now know how it feels to have your body fucked into bliss and incoherent, you know how it feels to make love rather than be a flesh toy for whatever man you choose to fill the emptiness inside of you.

No more.

That will no longer suffice.

Nothing will compare to how it feels to be with Rin Itoshi. You know it as well as he does. His forehead rests against your own as he chases his release, his heart racing as even in his intoxicated mind, he’s acutely aware of what is about to happen.

Of what you are going to let him do.

He’s going to cum inside his best friend.

“C-Can I? Please, baby, let me fill you up.” he begs.

“No… not yet. Feels so good, Rin, I don’t want it to stop.” you explain. And it’s a little selfish, you can’t deny that. You’re angling for your third orgasm of this tryst. You can’t help but think of daybreak approaching and how you both might come to your senses as you’re bathed in the glow of daylight.

You’ve said I love you to each other but what does that really mean? It means you’re turned on and despite it being true, things are different when you’re sober and you sleep on mistakes you may or may not have made. A post coital world may be one in which you can’t make eye contact anymore because… how can best friends do that?

How can you explore each other so intimately and still maintain a friendship that isn’t uncomfortable, each silence that passes by may rot your consciousness of how his nose crinkles when he moans or how you sucked on his fingers like a bonafide whore just because you were lost in the moment? Things can’t be normal after that. You hold back tears as you think solemnly that this might be the last nice memory you have of each other.

And you wrap your arms around his neck, determined not to let him go and keep this nice moment as a memory you can cherish forever. One where he made you feel pleasure you didn’t know a best friend could, you didn’t know anyone could. He’s been waiting to do this with you, and you were blind to it.

You can’t help but wish things weren’t so complicated, but he can’t hold on for much longer. Even slowing his thrusts, even stopping completely, he knows he can’t hold off for much longer.

“Please, princess, I’m aching here…” he mumbles, his lips slotting against yours so perfectly, so deliciously, you can deny him no more. You nod, slowly, tears spilling over as you approach the beginning of the end. A coil tightening in your stomach as he really lets go. He uses his build to his advantage as he strives to help you attain a vision of heaven for the third and final time, his own paradisical freefall waiting in the wings.

“Mmmmmpf… fuu-uuu-uuuck, Rin! R-Rin!”

“Just like that baby, just like that. Hah~ fuck, such a good girl. So fucking pretty. You cum like an angel, fuck. Can I cum inside? Baby, please, I can’t pull out. You’re too fucking tight. Need to do it here. N-Need to give you it like this—”

He cuts himself off, unable to wait for permission as the dam blocking him bursts. He cums messily, loudly, as he spurts a thick, backed up load into you. Even with your hips angled, there’s too much to keep contained. Excess sperm leaks out of your spent hole as it twitches and oozes, and he continues to thrust into you. Even with his cock softening, he can’t seem to help himself. He keeps going, hissing and whining from a depraved, masochistic pleasure.

Even in darkness, you see how red his face has become. You put it down to overexertion, and it’s partly true. But as he unsheathes his cock, he can’t help but feel a concoction of pride and unadulterated joy as he sees your combined coupling completely soak his length.

He pants as he rolls off you, moving his head to the side as he cups your face again to make out with you. And you reciprocate, half-heartedly, as you feel the end is nigh. He quickly tucks himself into his sweats, while you dress yourself in your panties and sweats.

You feel dirty.

Lewd fluids trickle out of you and ruin your clothes, and you can’t help but feel how you always do after a hook up.

Used.

Only this time, it’s worse. You got carried away, and you’re about to lose your best friend because of it. Any thought of salvaging things dies a swift death in your mind as you think about things logically. Things can’t go back to the way they are, now. Not with burden adding tension to what was meant to be a stress-free friendship.

And still, you want to try.

You want to try and save what’s left of your friendship.

“… S-So… you definitely weren’t a virgin.” you try to joke lightly, your rigid body easing slightly when you hear him laugh.

“No, sorry. I was fucking with you, it was dumb.” he smirks. “Are you okay? Was it… okay? It sounded like you liked it.”

“Yeah… yeah. It was really… f-fun.” your lip wobbles before you start to cry, prompting him to sit up abruptly with a look of unbridled concern as he watches you sob.

“Shit, was it bad? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got carried away, I guess? Please don’t cry.”

“N-No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you sob. “It’s just— w-well— what am I meant to do now?! T-Taking your virginity was meant to be your birthday gift and you lied!” you force yourself to laugh through your tears, hoping your excuse will be enough to hide your true feelings for now.

“Oh,” he exhales a sigh of relief, scratching the back of his neck. “You scared me.” he almost scowls, but a soft smile still plays on his features.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine, there’s something else I want if you’re so worried about a gift for me.” he looks at you calmly as your entire face relaxes. You cock your head, curious about what he’s got in mind. He scoffs, lightly, almost in disbelief that you can’t figure it out. “I want my… best friend… to be my girlfriend.”

“… what?!” you practically scream, tears flowing harder as you wonder if you heard him right. He laughs, again, pulling you into his arms and holding you close as you continue to cry.

“Maybe you are dumber than I gave you credit for. I’ve been crazy about you for months, we just had sex and I told you I love you. You’re really surprised that I want to do that again and make you mine, officially?”

You dab at your tears with the sleeves of his hoodie, starting to laugh a little as he smiles at you. You sigh, exasperated. Your whole body is spent and you’re emotionally drained.

“I thought you were gonna think this was a mistake, G-God, I wasn’t expecting this at all.” you explain.

“Clearly,” he grins. “Well? Are you gonna be my girlfriend?”

“Oh! Y-Yeah! Of course!” you smile. His arms wrap around you, and you’ve never felt safer. You burst into a fit of laughter as he repeatedly kisses your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, everywhere.

You lie comfortably in his arms as the two of you look up at the sky together, for the final time that night. If it weren't for the cold, you’re sure you could fall asleep like this. And it’s at that moment, you realise, just how much time has passed. The obsidian sky is no longer suffocating you, the secrets and desires you’ve held only brave enough to be exposed whilst shrouded by the shadows along with your shame for daring to hold them.

The earliest inklings of the true morning sky are breaking through the darkness. The world is about to resume as it does each day, people waking up and going about their lives. You need to sleep, but not now, not like this. You’ll go home, with Rin, as you have so many times before.

And through confessions you believed shouldn’t dared be uttered, things have changed. Things have changed in a way you hadn’t expected.

You lie comfortably in Rin’s arms, your head on his chest as he breathes gently and peacefully. His eyes closed as he savours in the euphoria he feels for all that has transpired.

Things have changed, and everything is better now.

—

© 2024 rinhaler

—

[incorrectbatfam]

How small must the world be for both Bruce and Tim to witness John and Mary Grayson's deaths

Or for 10-year-old Duke to crack the Riddler's puzzle before Batman swoops in and saves the day, long before his powers came into play

Or for Sheila Haywood to leave her son only to end up assisting his killer a decade and a half later

Not to mention the popular fanon concept of Jason knowing baby Damian in the League of Assassins

Now imagine how many other invisible strings could've tied them together

Like what if Tim and Jason went to the same school when Jason was Robin but all they shared was the occasional bump and "excuse me" in the busy halls

Or what if Babs was a tutor and helped an elementary-aged Steph finally understand her homework only for the Browns to cancel after a couple sessions because they couldn't afford it

What if the first person to buy Cass a hot meal was Kate on one of her travels

What if Alfred witnessed young Selina shoplifting groceries but chose to turn a blind eye

What if Jason lived on the same streets as the Row siblings and gave little Harper tips on how to use tools and defend her brother

What if Steph and Duke shared the same school bus, only he sat in the front while she was toward the back

What if the first person to teach Tim how to tie his shoes was Bruce at a gala because Jack and Janet were busy talking to someone important

What if Bette did a DNA test for fun and found a connection in Nanda Parbat but just assumed the results was faulty because she knew her whole family, right?

What if 8-year-old Dick, the day before his parents died, stayed at a cheap hotel near Crime Alley and found 4-year-old Jason wandering alone and said, "I'll be your big brother for tonight"

What if the universe knew they were made for each other and wouldn't rest until they realized it too

[baby-yongbok]

Ex : Part II

Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

⇝ Genre: Angst then Smut then angst again. Dirty Drama.

⇝ Summary: There's only one thing on your mind after 'welcoming' Hyunjin back into your life.

⇝ Warnings: Themes of Cheating, Arguing, Oral sex, Hyunjin is toxic - the manipulative type - and he seriously thinks he did nothing wrong. (I think that's all, let me know if I missed anything!)

⇝ Word Count: 3.2k

⇝ A/N: SO MANY of you wanted a part 2 to this so I tried my best + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ I hope that you enjoy the drama! 💕

✧ Part One ✧ Masterlist ✧

It took you a week. A week of crying and screaming, a week of avoiding your friends, a week of him ignoring your calls for you to realize that Hyunjin has you fucked up if he thinks that you’re going to let him get away with what he put you through. At first you just wanted to talk to him, you thought that maybe you could convince him to cut Yara off. You thought that you could change him - how cliche. You called him for three days and when you got sick of getting his voicemail you called his best friend, Jeongin. He was surprised to hear from you but he was even more surprised when you told him everything that happened. 

“Are you fucking serious?” For the first time since Hyunjin left you crying on your bedroom floor you let it all out. You told Jeongin every dirty detail of the encounter. You cried and he was there for you, he did what Hyunjin hasn’t done for months. “Is there anything that I can do? Anything you need?” 

The line fell silent as you processed his question. Your brain is telling you one thing while your heart is telling you another. You sigh as the two battle for dominance over what comes out of your mouth next. You’ve let your heart make all of the moves for the past three days. You’ve cried and you’ve screamed all in favor of lifting the crushing pain off of your chest for an hour or two. Now it’s your brain's turn to decide and it only wants one thing. 

“Ya know there is something that you can help me with.” Your heart pleads for you to choose something less drastic, less dramatic but your brain yells for it to shut up. Why should we let Hyunjin have all the fun? “Anything, you name it.”

“Revenge.”

Hyunjin came to your place four days after you spoke to Jeongin. He had cherry red roses in his hand and an apology plastered on his face. His eyes were pleading with you before he could even open his mouth but to his surprise you hugged him. You held him tight and smiled, taking the flowers and making a home for them in your favorite vase. He was stunned to say the least but he didn’t comment. He needed you. His ex did exactly what you knew she would, she took all that she wanted from him and the second that she started to get attention from somewhere else she acted like he didn’t exist. 

He tried to be the boyfriend that you’ve been wanting him to be over the next couple of weeks but he couldn’t seem to get a hold of you. Each and every time that he’d plan a date or show up to surprise you, you were already out or you were leaving to meet with your friends. You barely answered his texts and he’s more than positive that you’ve been sending him to voicemail for the past week. It’s been a month of him putting up with you blowing him off and he’s sick of it.

He decided to show up at your place two hours before your plans to talk to you, maybe he can get you to stay home and spend some time with him tonight. He misses you more than you could even imagine and he thought that you’ve been missing him too. Shouldn’t you be dying to spend time with him? 

His face drops when he gets to your front door and his key doesn’t fit into the lock, did you change it? He rings the bell, tapping his foot anxiously as he waits for you to open the door. His eyes meet yours when it swings open and you smile at him, welcoming him in. 

“My key didn’t work.” He comments as he kicks his shoes off.

“Really? That’s odd.” You shrug as you make your way to your bathroom. “I’m gonna shower.” You call to him as the bathroom door closes behind you. The click of the lock draws a sigh from Hyunjin. Not even a kiss or a hug? Just a friendly hello like you’re not even dating. He drags himself to your bedroom and throws himself on your perfectly made bed. His thoughts project onto the ceiling as he stares at it. He feels like he’s going crazy, why are you acting so weird? No affection, barely talking, barely hanging out and you’re always on… Oh no. He sits up quickly, his eyes dart around the room until it finally lands on what he’s looking for on your bedside table.

Your Phone.

He glances over at your bedroom door before grabbing it. The screen lights up and a picture of you and your friends presents itself to him. That’s funny, wasn’t your wallpaper that picture of you two from when you went to the aquarium for your second date. You always said that that was your favorite picture. When did you change it?

He glances towards the door again and swipes your screen, his brain is busy thinking of possible password combinations but there is no password. His brows pinch together in confusion, you always have a pin on your phone. He decides to worry about that later and quickly starts searching all of your apps. He goes from your instagram to your snapchat but there’s nothing. Just a bunch of reels being sent between you and Jeongin, the last person you sent a picture to on snapchat was also Jeongin. How can his best friend have time to talk to you but he doesn’t have time to text him back? He’s called him an unimaginable amount of times over the past month but he hasn’t heard a single thing back. His finger hovers over your text messages for a second too long. What if he doesn’t like what he finds? What if you’re cheating on him? How could he handle a betrayal like that? With one more quick glance towards the door he taps the app and it opens up to a conversation. Hyunjin’s heart drops when he reads the name at the top. 

“What?” An incredulous sigh escapes him as he starts scrolling to the top of the conversation. Pet names are being thrown left and right, plans are being made every single day and there are back to back facetime calls in the dark hours of the night. 

Hyunjin’s heart is pounding in his ears and his fingers are moving so fast that he didn’t even realize that he went into your shared media. He freezes and his heart drops to his ass as he takes it all in. Nudes, videos, everything that he could imagine, all of you and his best friend. All of you and Jeongin. He opens a video and his mouth goes dry at the lewd sounds that fill the room. He’s fucking you from behind with a fist full of your hair to keep your head up. You’re drooling and moaning and Jeongin is smiling, he’s fucking smiling at the camera. His shirt - wait a minute - that’s not his. Hyunjin’s eyes go wide as he studies the fabric, his best friend is wearing his clothes while he fucks his girlfriend? Unbelievable, this can’t be real.

He quickly exits the video and scrolls through your pictures. You and Jeongin in the car, in your bedroom, your living, you on your knees and him on his. Hyunjin doesn’t even bother to look at the door to make sure you aren’t coming. He can’t hear anything but the thoughts racing through his head. His finger slips and another video opens. The sound of skin against skin echoes through his ears as the video plays. Jeongin is shirtless, fucking you in front of your bathroom mirror. Actually, he’s naked, did you two shower together? Hyunjin balls a fist in the blanket under him as he watches the video.

“Say it again, baby, say it to the camera.” A broken moan escapes you as you try to follow Jeongin’s order. “Y-you’re so much better than him, fuck me so good, Innie.” Hyunjin swears that his heart broke at the sound of you. Why would you say that? You don’t mean it do you? What did he do to deserve this?

He pauses the video and drops your phone against the mattress, your texts stare back at him and he can’t help but to scroll. “That’s not yours.” He jumps at the sound of your voice and you laugh. You wander over to lazily flip through your closet with a towel wrapped around your hair and your rob loosely tied around your body.

“What the fuck is all of this?” His voice is small, much smaller than he meant for it to be but you can hear the heartbreak laced in it. You almost feel bad for him. But that’s your heart speaking, she’s not in control right now. “You’re fucking Jeongin?”

You pick out a dress and move to your mirror, you tilt your head as you hold it against your body. “Think this is too much for a dinner date?” Hyunjin scoffs, moving to stand from your bed.

“Answer me, tell me that everything that I just found is fake. Tell me that you didn’t betray me.” He has some nerve talking about betrayal. You face him, staring back at him with faux sympathy. “I was lonely when you left, what was I supposed to do?” 

“Wait for me to get back.” You turn your attention back to your closet but he calls your name before you can pick out another dress. “You haven’t been going out with your friends have you? You’ve been with him. What in your right mind possessed you to fuck my best friend?”

“Do you really care, Hyunjin? Do you really want me to tell you? Cause I’ll tell you everything but that’s not what you want to hear, is it?” He watches as you slowly step towards him, like a vixen with her eyes set on a prize. “You wanna hear me say that I love you. You want me to say that I’ll stop seeing him because I need you.” 

He’s stuck in place as he watches you, heavy breaths passing his parted lips as you read him like a book. That’s exactly what he wants, he wants you, that’s all he’s wanted for the past month. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes.” His voice is a mere whisper once you reach him, like he’d scare you away if he talks too loudly. “That’s what I want.” He shudders when you bring your hand up to cup his cheek. 

“Are you touch starved, baby?” His soft gaze pours into yours but he doesn’t recognize the look in your eyes. It’s not what he wants but he’ll gladly take it. At least you’re looking at him. “Didn’t your ex touch you while you were away?”

His heart sinks and a smile creeps onto your lips. “She - she did but -” You tsk, cutting him off before he could stumble over his words further. 

“She didn’t make you feel like I do, did she?” He shakes his head, guilty eyes staring back into yours as you reach down to palm him over his sweats. “Is that why you’re back? She didn’t take care of my Hyune?”

“She’s not you.” His breath is heavy and his eyes roll back as he answers with a thick groan. You run your fingers over him with expert precision. You’ve always known what to do to get him going. “I want you, not her. Always you.”

“Untie my robe.” You whisper and he quickly obeys, fumbling with the loose knot until the fuzzy fabric falls open and reveals your naked body to him. “Wanna show me how much you want me?” He leans forward to catch your lips in a kiss but you dodge him before he can. A disapproving whimper escapes him and you puff out your lip in a fake pout. 

“Gotta be patient, my baby. Can you do that?” He nods, whimpering out a pathetic ‘yes’. His eyes follow your frame as you sit on the edge of your bed. Your eyes wander from his down to the floor in front of you and back up again. He quickly follows your unspoken instruction, falling to his knees in front of you and drooling when you part your legs before him. “Show me.”

Hyunjin latches onto your core like a desperate puppy. His tongue wastes no time exploring every inch of you that he’s missed. Hums and moans vibrate through him as he tastes you and you match each sound with your head thrown back and your fingers laced in his hair. At least he remembers how to eat your pussy the way that you like it, though you must admit that you’ve gotten used to Jeongin’s mouth on you. 

Your bed creaks as his hips buck against it in a desperate attempt to feel half as good as you do. “Fuck, come on, Hyune. Don’t tell me your best friend eats my pussy better than you.” He groans in protest, hooking his arms around your thighs to keep you open while he works against you. You gasp in pleasure, so he’s competitive? He swirls his tongue in imaginary patterns, sliding it between your folds as he takes turns sucking on your clit and fucking your pulsing hole. His hips grind restlessly against the edge of your mattress and desperate grunts fill the air once they vibrate through your core. 

“You missed me didn’t you?” You pull him back with your fist in his hair, his swollen lips glisten in the low lamp light and his eyes are glazed with fuckout desperation. “Yeah, missed you.”  He’s too deep into the brain fog to hear just how pathetic he sounds but you’re more than happy to take it all in for him. A strangled moan escapes you as Hyunjin's tongue explores deeper. You grip his hair tighter as he laps up your juices, and you arch your back to meet him. 

His thrusts against your mattress become more desperate as laps at you, The mess of your drooling cunt makes a mess all over his chin as he works desperately to get you to the edge but that’s not the part that gets you close. It’s the thought of him hoping and praying that hi tongue is fucking you better than Jeongin ever did and as you get closer to coming undone you find yourself clenching at the thought that his best friend does it better. “Shit, Jeongin, I’m gonna cum.” 

 Your orgasm rips through you with a loud moan and your body shudders in pleasure. You hold Hyunjin's head in place against your core as his tongue continues to work diligently in an attempt to help you ride out your orgasm. Once you’ve come down from your high he pulls back slowly, a single string of spit still connecting him to your cunt.

“What did you call me?” He mumbles, not even bothering to wipe his mouth clean. You stare down at him with not an ounce of care in your eyes. 

“Don’t remember.” You pull your robe closed and slide from in front of him to pull yourself up to your feet. “And I don’t care.” Hyunjin’s heart dissolves as he watches you shrug and wander back over to your closet.

“What are you doing?” He mumbles and you scoff.

“Will you stop with the pitiful tone?” He scrambles up from his knees quickly, a surge of anger running through him. 

“Come on.” He stalks over and wraps his arms around you, leaning in to kiss your neck but you push him away before he can. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“I have a date to get ready for.” You flip through your clothes and it’s only now that he notices the empty space in your closet. “Where are my clothes?” 

“I told you to take all of your shit last month.” You shrug, pulling out a dress and holding it against your body in the mirror. “You didn’t take it so I gave most of it to Jeongin. Thought about burning the rest but I donated it instead.”

He watches you silently, jaw hung slack in a frozen state of disbelief. “Are there fucking cameras in here?” He looks around, half desperate for that to be the case. “Is this a joke?”

“The only joke here is you. Did you think that you could come back here and I’d act like nothing happened?” A venomous laugh erupts from your chest. “Be fucking forreal.”

“But we just fucked, I just ate you out why would you let that happen if you’re still going to see Jeongin?” 

“You got a phone call last time. You owe me, remember?” Hyunjin can’t decide if he should be livid or desperate. He wants to yell and curse you out for being so ridiculous but at the same time he wants to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. He had hoped that you understood what happened a month ago. He thought that he could count on you to see that he only did what he had to do. Yeah he cheated but if you really loved him you could move past that. 

“You’re excused. I need to get ready.” You push past him, bumping your shoulder with his but he grabs you by the waist before you can get too far, pulling you against his chest. “Don’t be like that, angel.”

 His hands run smoothly up your side, taking in every curve of you. “I know I upset you but you can’t act like you don’t want me. What happened to you forgiving me?”

His lips brush over yours slowly as he whispers. “I want you so badly, I wanna be with you tonight. Stay here with me.” You smile against him as the towel containing your hair slips off of your head and your damp curls curtain around the two of you. You run your hands up his chest, taking in each and every toned dip before you whisper back. “Get out.” You peck his lips and push him away from you with a smile.

“You’re making a mistake.” He pleads with wide eyes blown with anguish. “He doesn’t make you feel like I do, you know that.” Your ringtone bounces off of the walls before you get a chance to answer him. You reach across your mattress and smile when you see Jeongin’s name.

“You’re right.” You shrug, swiping to answer the call. “He makes me feel so much better.” Hyunjin’s jaw clenches as you press the phone to your ear with a smile. You greet his best friend with a sweet tone that used to be exclusively for him. Hyunjin is practically invisible to you as you buzz around your room grabbing accessories and planning your outfit. It isn’t until he grabs your wrist on your way to your vanity that you look at him again.

“Please don’t do this.” Jeongin’s voice is heard from the receiver before you can answer the man in front of you.

“Who’s that, baby?” He asks, and you smile as Hyunjin deflates.

 “No one.” You shrug off Hyunjin’s hold and he deflates as you passively wave him away. “That’s no one.”

Tag List: @dessianna1, @foxytoxxic, @snxfall (If you asked to be tagged and you weren't it's because you did not have your age in your bio. You MUST have your age in your bio to be tagged )

[srfiv]

i'm the dour in the dowry, the bats in your belfry, and i am your boyfriend.

[irresistibleblue]

Uh oh!

[randomnerd737]

I was thinking about the 5 year anniversary video and

it is interesting to me how Patton kind of decided for Logan what his role in the "family" would be. all the other sides chose it themselves, but he didn't get to.

even when he actively objects it's played for laughs and never addressed. this happened too when Patton revealed his name for him, and I just think it's interesting to note that after all these years, Logan still never gets to decide anything when it comes to Thomas, or even himself, to an extent. it's just kind of decided for him and he is expected to just go along with it, similar to how it was when Thomas dyed his hair.

ik it's mainly a "haha wine mom" moment, but that doesn't take away from how angsty it gets when you think about it.

[sjonni33]

† bleed for a world that has never loved you †

𓆝 𓆟[ko-fi] [prints&stickers] [redbubble]𓆞 𓆝

[nastybuckybarnes]

Mouse Trap

Pairing: Ghost X Reader

Summary: Ghost's little mouse finds herself stuck in a trap. Who better to save her?

Warnings: Violence, Language, Angst, Fluff, kinda unhinged Ghost?, Torture ig, murder, Injuries, self-hate kinda i guess

Word Count: 2.5k

A/n: I'm literally in love with this little series, i think it will forever have a special place in my heart

~*~

Days go by since Ghost last saw you, since he fucked you, and the skulls seem to disappear once again.

His little street mouse has disappeared without a trace.

Ghost is a man of logic. A man who can use the information at hand to come to the most realistic conclusion.

And, in this case, you've realized what a fucking nutcase he is and have decided you never want to see him again.

I mean, what else could it be?

His sour mood is taken out on anyone and everyone unfortunate enough to get in his way.

And today is no different.

His brows are permanently furrowed and his grip on his riffle is unwavering as he and Soap do their rounds.

The Scot is quiet for a long while before deciding to try and poke the bear.

"Still nothin from yer mouse?" He asks, knowing damn well the answer.

Ghost says nothing, doesn't even address the fact that the man has spoken.

"You ever think of... lookin for her? I mean, she doesn't exactly spend time in the safest areas," he presses.

If Soap hadn't spent as much time with the bigger man as he has, he wouldn't have noticed the slight falter in Ghost's steps.

Sure, he'd looked for you, but the idea of you being hurt or even killed wasn't one he entertained.

In his mind, no one would be stupid enough to touch what's his, but people have certainly tried before.

His world shifts slightly, the tension in his shoulders changing. He's no longer worried that you're hiding from him, no. Now he's wondering who would take you and where they'd hide you.

Those are the thoughts that occupy his every waking moment for days, until he finally gets his answer.

While combing the streets for any sign of you -or the hostiles he's supposed to be looking for- there's a gift from God.

On the ground, in what looks alarmingly close to blood, is a skull drawing. And a trail of the same blood-like substance leads him better than breadcrumbs.

"Soap, on my six," he murmurs into his radio, carefully following the blood trail as it leads deeper into the city, into enemy territory.

Soap is quick to meet up with the Lieutenant, eyes and ears peeled as Ghost comes to a halt outside of an old office building.

"Wha're we doin' here, Lt?" He asks quietly, watching his back as Ghost picks the lock.

"Savin' my mouse."

The lock opens with a soft 'click' and he shoulders the door open, staying low and scanning the first room quickly.

He motions for Soap to follow and the Scot does, sticking close as the slowly sweep room after room.

As they go up the stairs, Ghost slows, tilting his head to the side as he hears the sound of muffled voices not far away.

He follows the sound, being extra careful as the voice gets louder and louder, until he can make out the words.

His stomach drops the tiniest bit as they approach the third floor.

He's done this countless times, this should be no different.

But it is different.

You're in there. He has no room for error. Not when your life could be on the line.

A man is speaking, and Ghost takes that as his cue to creep into the hallway.

Soap grabs his shoulder, giving him a strong look.

"This could be a trap. We should call the rest of the team."

The skull-faced man only stares at him for a long while then tugs out of his grip.

"S'not a trap, Johnny. She's in there. You wanna leave, go. M'not leavin without her." With that, he turns back to the hallway and moves forward.

Though he has his doubts, Soap follows closely behind, staying silent as the voice gets louder.

Other sounds are able to be heard now, too. These ones confirming Ghost's suspicions.

Feminine grunts, groans, and cries of pain.

At the sound of your voice, a switch flips inside of the large man and he's quickly and silently moving forward, taking down any hostiles in his path. Anyone that stands between him and you is promptly killed, dropping to the ground with quiet 'thud's.

The man that's been torturing you drops his knife onto the table and yanks your head back by your hair, forcing you to look at him again.

"I'm gonna ask you one last time, doll face: who sent you?"

Your eyes roll in your head for a moment before finally focusing on him.

It's been several days of this, if not longer, and you're starting to worry that your Ghost, that Simon, isn't coming for you.

You still stay strong, saying nothing.

This only seems to aggravate him further. He drops your head and walks back over to his table of torture toys, looking for something suitable for what he has planned for you.

Your eyes flutter to a movement in the doorway of the room, and you feel your heart fill with hope as one of the guards gets yanked into the hallway.

Familiar eyes peer into the room, immediately locking on yours, and you feel safe.

He's here. He came for you.

You knew he would.

He presses a finger to his lips, urging you to stay silent, and you give him a soft nod of understanding. Your eyes flutter back to your kidnapper, and you watch as he picks up a pair of pliers.

He clicks them together a few times then turns to face you, a wicked grin on his face.

"If you're not going to use that tongue, there's no sense in having it, is there?" He asks rhetorically.

He steps forward, grabbing your jaw roughly, and then he's collapsing on top of you, his blood spilling across your face.

You let out a startled scream, jerking your head back as he rolls onto the floor.

The room is suddenly filled with chaos.

A gun is pressed to your head, and Ghost has another man in a headlock, his eyes on yours.

"Keep those eyes on me, Mouse," he orders, making sure your gaze is locked on his as he snaps the mans neck.

"Don't come any closer!" The man holding the gun to your head warns, pressing it against you harder.

You wince but your eyes never leave Ghosts. Not even when he produces a small blade and whips it at the man beside you.

Ghost steps toward him as he writhes on the ground, yanking him up by the collar of his shirt and ripping the blade out of his eye socket.

"That's for lookin' at her. Imagine what m'gonna do to you for touchin' her," he snarls, big hand nearly crushing the man's windpipe.

You stare at them as Soap comes to your aid, freeing you from the rope binding you to the chair.

"Maybe, if you apologize nice and proper, I'll let you live," Ghost whispers, his eyes empty and hard as he looks at the man.

"Look at her with your good eye and tell her how sorry you are."

The man's head whips around to you and he stutters out an apology.

"Now, tell me how sorry you are."

He turns back to Ghost with his mouth open to apologize and you flinch as another gunshot rings out, and then he's crumpling to the floor in a heap, blood pouring from both eyes.

You stare at his corpse, at the dead man who threatened your life, then slowly bring your eyes up as the man who saved you approaches.

"How's she lookin', Johnny?" He asks, crouching down in front of you as Soap presses some gauze to your thigh tightly.

You whine at the pain, and Ghost gives one of your hands a squeeze.

"Not great. Bleedin' real heavy. We can drop her off at one of the med tents and-"

"Not happenin'," Ghost interupts.

He pulls you from the chair and carefully lays you on the floor, working with Soap to try and slow the bleeding as much as possible.

Your head spins as the adrenaline slowly leaves you, and you lift a hand in search of your big soldier.

"Simon," you whisper, vision going blurry.

Soap's eyes shoot up to you, shocked that you know the Lieutenant's real name. He can't help but wonder what exactly would happen when Ghost would go on patrol alone. How many nights were spent with you if he's trusted you with his name.

Ghost grabs your hand in an instant, his eyes over yours.

"M'here, Mouse."

Your bottom lip quivers and tears streak down your temples into your hair.

"Tired... so tired," you whisper.

He shoots Soap a worried look then gives your hand another squeeze.

"I know, but you can't sleep yet, Mouse. We'll stop for a coffee on our way back to base, how's that sound?"

You frown, edges of your vision slowly going dark.

"Simon," you whisper once more, pushing your hand up to dust over his masked face.

Soap watches, eyes full of wonder as Ghost, the man who just murdered over a dozen people, is soft and gentle with you.

Your fingers smooth over his masked lips, and then your hand is tumbling down beside your head and your eyes are falling closed.

"No, none of that. Eyes on me, Mouse. On me."

You try, you really do, but you just need a moment to rest. That's all. Just one moment.

~*~

You're in and out of consciousness from that moment forward, finally fully coming to in a dimly lit room.

You're groggy and confused, blinking several times to get the fog clouding your vision to go away.

When things finally clear up, your heart jumps in your chest and you look around frantically.

This isn't familiar.

None of this is.

"Easy, Mouse. You're safe. M'here."

Except that.

Your eyes dart over to the source of the sound, finding those familiar piercing eyes.

Instinctively, you relax and reach for him, stopping with a hiss when something tugs at your arm.

"Easy, love," Ghost murmurs, reaching out and taking your hand in both of his.

Tears well up in your eyes and you look away from him, shaking your head.

"'S'alright, little one. M'here. Not goin' anywhere anytime soon."

It's true. He has no intention of leaving your side until you allow it. Something he has made explicitly clear to the members of his team.

You look up at him with big teary eyes and his icy heart cracks in his chest.

"Don't make me go. Not back to city, please," you beg quietly.

His gaze softens and he shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a brief moment before tugging his mask up over his lips and leaning down to kiss your knuckles.

"You're not going back there. Not if I have any say in it."

Your breaths start coming in faster, more shallow, until you're hyperventalating, one hand grasping at the gown on your chest.

Everything is too much. Too constricting, too enclosed.

You can't breathe.

"Hey, hey! Eyes on me."

You obey, your eyes finding his once more, and he nods encouragingly.

He brings your hand to his chest, flattens it against the thin shirt, and you can feel his heart beating against your palm.

"I want you to breathe with me, Mouse. In... and out."

You slowly copy him, slowing your breathing to match his and keeping your hand against his warm chest the entire time.

Eventually, the feeling of his skin only one layer away is too distracting. You slide your fingers up to the small area of skin between his shirt and his balaclava, stroking it gently.

Your breath hitches at the feeling of his flesh against yours, and you lean toward him, desperate to feel more of him.

He leans forward and takes your other hand in his and you stare in awe, pressing your palm against his. His hands are rough, calloused and hardened, but they feel so good, so right against yours.

You slide your fingers up his forearm, tracing the scars, veins and tattoos while your other hand wraps around the back of his neck, slipping under the back of his balaclava and tangling into his hair.

"Simon," you whisper, tugging him closer by the nape of his neck.

He leans in, scarred lips tilting up in a soft smile at the sound of his name on your tongue.

He presses his forehead to yours, his eyes falling closed a moment after yours.

Carefully, he nudges his nose against yours, then tilts his head to slot his lips against yours.

You kiss him back softly, tugging away after a moment and drawing your brows together.

"What?" He asks softly, his free hand coming up to stroke your cheek.

"Where do I stay? Here?"

He shakes his head, pulling back a bit more after pressing one more kiss to your mouth.

"You'll stay with me. Unless you'd prefer your own room."

You're shaking your head before he's finished speaking, and he nods knowingly.

"Then you'll stay with me. We should only be here a few months longer. Then you can come home with me, if you'd like."

He'd be lying if he said he hasn't given much thought to the future. But after this? After nearly losing you before he truly got to have you? He's not willing to let you leave his side.

You only nod, eyes full of awe and adoration.

He gives you one more kiss, then gets up to get a med officer to check on you.

~*~

You spend a few days in the medical wing, and then, once you're given the go-ahead (under the ever-watchful eye of Ghost), you're changing into military-grade pants and a black t-shirt, and sitting patiently while Ghost laces up your boots.

"We match," you say proudly, beaming up at him when he rises to his full height.

He grins down at you through his mask, his eyes crinkling around the corners, and presses his forehead against yours sweetly.

"That we do, Mouse. Now, lets get you on your feet again."

He takes your hands and gently helps you to your feet, steadying you when you try to put weight onto your injured leg.

Your face screws up in pain, but you push through it, taking a few careful steps with his help.

"You sure you're ready?" He asks warily, watching you intently until you glare at him from the corner of your eye.

"Ready. Want to leave."

He nods, wrapping an arm around your waist and all but lifting you off the ground every time you try to step with your injured leg.

He leads you through the base, his glare sharp enough to have the onlookers scurrying out of sight.

Ever since he brought you back, bloody and wounded in his arms, you've been the talk of the base.

Who are you? Why does the Lieutenant like you so much? Can you be trusted?

That last question has plagued even some of his closest friends.

But as he helps you to the barracks, you lean further into him, you trust him at your most vulnerable, and he knows deep in his soul that you are someone he can trust.

Finally, after what feels like forever, he unlocks the door to his quarters and pushes it open.

The trek took far more energy than you'd like to admit, and you eagerly take a seat at the desk against the wall.

"You hungry?" He asks after a moment of silence, watching you as you look around curiously.

You nod, glancing up at him when he takes a step to the door.

"I'll be back in a minute. Try not to get into any trouble while I'm gone." He can't help but grin when you cross your arms over your chest.

Without another word, he exits the room, leaving you alone to explore.

You do exactly that, carefully taking in your surroundings.

There's a bed, a real bed, against the far wall. Across from that is a small wardrobe.

On the opposite side of the room is a door, and you find yourself limping over to it curiously.

You push it open and flick on the light, your eyes widening when you see the bathroom.

A proper bathroom, with running water that probably gets warm.

You turn the faucet on, watching in awe as it takes only a few moments for steam to start billowing. Your eyes follow the steam until they meet your own reflection in the mirror.

An audible gasp leaves your lips, and you lean forward, staring in a combination of disgust and horror.

You've seen your reflection since hiding out, but never quite so clearly.

The stitches at your hairline are crusted with blood, and you have bruises all over your face. Dark splotches that paint your skin in a way that makes your stomach churn.

How could Simon stand to look at you like this?

You splash some of the water on your face, hissing when it's a little bit too hot. Not a problem you thought you'd ever have.

Turning it down, you wait unti lit cools slightly to try and scrub your face clean, to make yourself more presentable for him, to look pretty.

No matter how hard you try, however, you can't clean the evidence of the torture from your face.

Hot tears streak down your cheeks and you turn your back on your reflection, angry that you ever dared to look at yourself.

At least before, you didn't know what you looked like. You didn't know what your Ghost had to look at, to touch, kiss.

"Mouse?"

You sniffle and wipe your cheeks quickly at the sound of his voice, opening the bathroom door a crack.

He takes one look at your face, at your red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, and he's pushing his way into the bathroom and inspecting you for injuries.

"What happened?"

You shake your head and tug on his balaclava gently.

"I want one."

His brows furrow and you can almost see the gears in his head trying to process what's going on.

"What?"

"Please. Want one... like Ghost."

He cups your cheek gently, big warm hand soothing your aching skin.

"Why? I like seeing your pretty face. Dont want you to cover it up if you don't need to."

This makes you tear up once more and you tug out of his grip, turning your back to him and hiding your face in your hands.

"Need to," you whisper thickly, "not pretty. Not now."

He's appalled by your words, stepping in front of you and gently pulling your hands away from your face.

"Where'd you get an idea like that?"

You sniffle and shake your head, avoiding his eyes.

"Broken... ugly..." Your eyes catch your reflection in the mirror and you glare at what you see, your bottom lip quivering as you try to hold back your tears.

A surprising rush of emotions floods him and he takes a few moments to breathe and steady himself.

He's not used to this whole softness thing. Not great at it, either.

"You think I'm ugly? I've got more bumps and bruises than you can count, little one. Scars, too. Does that make me ugly? Should I forever keep my face hidden from you?"

You frown up at him and shake your head quickly.

He could never be ugly, not to you.

"Then why are you any different? I see these," he strokes the mark on your cheek gently, "and it makes me want to protect you. It reminds me that you're fragile. Delicate. It makes me angry that someone would put their fucking hands on you, but thats it."

He pulls you into his arms and lays a few kisses on the top of your head.

"You're precious, Mouse. So very special, and so beautiful. M'more than happy to prove it to you if you don' believe me."

His voice drops a bit lower, as do his kisses, and you can't stop the smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth.

"There she is, there's my pretty girl," he whispers, kissing your lips briefly then pulling back once more.

"Now, you need to eat something and I need to debrief with Price. Rest while I'm gone, because you're not gonna be doing much sleeping when I get back."