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much ado about nothing chapter 6 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

ummmmm HIII so sorry i know i still owe you guys a million drabbles and i haven't been posting as much but this chapter is just chock-full of drama and i'm so excited to share it bc hehehe it's a rollercoaster. also we should def stop listening to sasha. sneaky posting; have fun babies!!!! i cannot WAIT to hear your thoughts

specific cws: alcohol use, violence (like fist-fighting level not insane), mentions of drugs, swearing, incredibly awkward tension lol

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“The course of true love never did run smooth.” A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare (Act I, Scene 1)

You’ve done a lot of partying in your days, but you never thought a hangover could float over your shoulders for damn near two weeks. Then again, maybe that rancid taste in your mouth is regret instead of the practical gallons of liquor you’d guzzled that night.

Historia tells you to delete the evidence, have a glass of wine with your friends, focus on your studies, put meaning back into the happy distractions that make up life. Sasha tells you to suck it up, download Tinder, do something other than wallow in your bed with nothing on but the fairy lights along your ceiling. Ymir tells you men aren’t worth embarrassing yourself for, maybe start swinging the other way, that she knows a few very pretty single ladies.

You meet all of their advice with a slow nod, sometimes a chuckle, put your head down, and go about your business, letting the shame follow you around like a little rain cloud from building to building around campus. Even your students have noticed something’s making you tick; Falco and Gabi left a package of Crumbl cookies in your office the other day, and for the first time, Zofia has begun to raise her hand in class. It’s heartwarming, really, but it doesn’t solve your problem.

Problems would be the better term for it. To start, there was your royal fuck-up with Eren. You had over-indulged and gotten a little too flirty to be “friends”, sure, it happens, but something had snapped in you when you saw Eren with that leggy blonde hanging all over him at the club.

Breeze. Even wearing naught but a skirt and some thin tights with the early winter wind whipping around your legs, just the thought of her name makes your blood boil. She was perfect, all bouncy and easygoing and cool, hippie clothes. To be fair, she was the one with the true claim on Eren; you had dug your own grave, far too confident in your ability to be just friends with someone so…so Eren.

Your friendship had been growing closer and closer by the passing day before that night, texting at nearly every minute of the day and spending time together wherever you could fit it in your full schedule. You had made plans to bake Christmas cookies together, even despite Eren’s protests that Christmas was a “capitalistic hellhole of a holiday season”, had acted out your favorite Shakespeare scenes in your pajamas, much to Eren’s amusement, and had made a habit of staying up late into the night watching and rewatching your favorite animes, heatedly debating characters. It had been butterfly-inducing, dizzying, perfect. Until you had indulged in one too many shots and humiliated yourself, that is.

Seeing Breeze all over Eren had made you realize the severity of your mistake trying to keep Eren in your life, realize the warm feeling blooming in your chest every time he grinned at you, all teeth and his little chin dimple, was decidedly much more than a platonic appreciation for a new friend. It turned out that you’d been right from the start; you weren’t his type, and to make matters worse, his actual taste in women had been thrust in your face unexpectedly.

When you had awoken the next morning, debating on whether to fall back asleep immediately or dash to the toilet, Historia had greeted you with a sorry smile, a cup of coffee, and a quiet word of advice to look through your phone. Knowing your drunken self, you pulled up your phone calls first, wanting to make sure you hadn’t accidentally Facetimed your mom to tell her how much fun you were having or something cringe-worthy of the sort. But no, of course it had to be much worse than that.

There was a phone call– to Eren. Your call log had recorded a one minute and thirty-six second phone call between you and Eren, one you obviously didn’t remember making.

“Please tell me you were with me when I called Eren,” you groan, so naive, “did I completely embarrass myself?”

Historia blushes. “Well, he didn’t answer, if it’s any consolation–”

“Oh, thank god–”

“But that didn’t exactly stop you,” Historia fiddles with the edge of her t-shirt, “you left him a voicemail.”

Even through your throbbing headache, you shoot right up out of bed at that. “What?! What did I say?”

“I don’t know,” Historia moans woefully, putting her hands over her face, “I’m sorry, I tried to stop you, but you ran off as soon as you started talking. By the time I caught up to you, you were already hanging up.”

“So, there’s a voicemail from drunk me on Eren’s phone, and neither of us have any idea what it says?”

“Correct.”

“My life fucking sucks.”

“It’s about to get a whole lot worse,” Historia says, throwing your sheets back and snuggling beside you in the bed, burrowing her face in your shoulder, “check your texts.”

And oh, had it gotten worse. Your drunken, foolish text sat in your outbox, unanswered, unread, and inexcusable. Six months later and you were right back where you started, begging a ghost of a man to explain why he couldn’t love you.

> hi luke, i’m sorta ficked up, but i misz you. why did yoi never call me???? you owe me at leasttg that. a fcking explanation,. 

Storming through campus, coat tucked around your shoulders against the biting chill, you wince at the memory. You haven’t deleted the unanswered text yet, keeping it stale in your phone as a reminder of what happens when you get too attached to people you know aren’t good for you.

You thought you’d be more heartbroken over the text to Luke and its lack of an answer, but surprisingly, you’re not. It’s Eren haunting your thoughts, Luke’s just the placeholder for all of your anger at this point. Eren isn’t to blame for all of this, you are, and that’s why you can’t bring yourself to face him, can’t bring yourself to answer any of the hesitant texts he’s sent you since that god-awful night.

You’re not in college anymore, you have to keep reminding yourself. You’re twenty-four, and you’d like to think you’re past the phase of your life where you’re handing your heart out to anyone that passes like it’s a Costco sample. You aren’t even sure if you want Luke anymore at this point, if you could even speak to him if you bumped into him these days. He had, admittedly, treated you like dirt, wrenched your heart out from your chest and left it on the sidewalk to collect dust. At least you can hate him, hate what he did to you, hate that you’re stuck on him like a broken record skipping to the same chorus every few weeks.

You can’t hate Eren, though. You can be disappointed in him for entertaining his terrible ex-girlfriend, not aloud of course because he hadn’t actually mentioned her to you himself, but you can do it internally. Even that isn’t enough to make you feel better; not only had he not trusted you, not felt safe or comfortable enough with you to share the skeletons in his closet, but he was likely zooming full-speed down a dead-end street, the way Sasha tells the story. Your heart aches for him out of a painful mixture of pining and fervent concern.

Your only solution so far has been to dive headfirst into your coursework and your students; it hasn’t done much to distract you, but with finals on the horizon, it’s not the worst method of coping you’ve come up with in your days.

Your newly invigorated dedication to your work and your courses are the cause of you dragging yourself across campus to 104, desperate for caffeine and practically a corpse after two weeks of near-constant self-shaming keeping you up at night.

The smell of the coffee shop, earthy and warm, hits you almost as hard as the blasting heat inside, and you practically slouch upon entering, the weight of the cozy atmosphere cocooning you like a warm blanket. If there’s one place that will always feel like a hug, it’s 104 Beans, your coffee shop of choice (and obligation, considering the small size of your campus) for the last six years.

Pieck, your favorite barista, greets you in her typical dreamy manner. “Hi love, same as usual?”

“Hey Pieck,” you greet her with a weary smile. As you dig around in your bag for your wallet, the extent of your exhaustion versus the amount of work you have left to do surfaces in your brain. “Actually…no, not my usual. Can I get a quad shot Americano?”

Pieck pauses where she’s scribbling onto a paper cup with a Sharpie, eyes flitting back up to you in disbelief. “A quad shot Americano?”

“A quad shot Americano.”

“Jesus,” Pieck sighs, eyes wide, “work’s that rough, huh? Black coffee not going to cut it?”

“The shakes will be worth it,” you confirm, swiping your card through the machine.

“Can I please make it a cappuccino then? You’re going to need something creamy to get all that espresso down,” Pieck looks back up at you, eyes pleading.

“Fine,” you sigh, “but–”

“Almond milk, I know,” Pieck winks at you, sliding your cup down the assembly line of baristas working amongst the hissing of the espresso machine and the pleasant, folky music floating from the speakers. “We’re a little busy, so give me five and I’ll bring it over to you.”

You smile gratefully and collect your things, turning to scout out what’s hopefully a quiet table in the corner, when a pair of arms tossed around your shoulders stops you. The familiar scent of fruity perfume tickles your nose, and you slump against the tight grip in relief.

“You made it out of the house!” Sasha’s eyes glow with pride, as if you’d just run a marathon.

“It’s not like I’m a hermit,” you roll your eyes, “I have class five days a week.”

“You don’t go anywhere besides class or your house though, so you still get participation points,” Sasha grins, shaking your shoulders, “how are you feeling?”

“Well…”

Sasha’s expression crumples. “Still that bad, huh?”

“The Luke thing was pathetic of me, but honestly, it’s not haunting me as much as I thought it would,” you admit, pausing for a moment to allow Sasha to grab her coffee from the barista when her name is called, “the one thing that’s really sticking with me is the Eren issue.”

“Like, the voicemail? Or Breeze?”

“Both. I would give anything to know what that voicemail said, but whatever was going on between us aside, I just hope he’s okay, y’know? With Breeze back in the picture and everything.”

Sasha bites into her bottom lip and glances around the coffee shop, checking every face at every table. You know that face; she’s hiding something.

“What?”

“What?” Sasha cocks her head innocently. You nearly smack her.

“You’re not telling me something.”

“Uh…okay, yeah, I’m not, but I’m not sure if I should. I mean, you’re actually out of the house–”

“I leave my house plenty!”

“You know what I mean,” Sasha scoffs, “it’s just…if you’re feeling better, I don’t want to throw you back into the deep end.”

You have no words for that, absolutely despising the way that she is completely correct. Whatever information lies behind Sasha’s bitten lip could either make you feel a hundred times better or a hundred times worse, and you’re stuck debating on whether you should gamble or not when Sasha makes the decision for you.

 “Fine, you wore me down,” she sighs.

“I didn’t even say anything,” you point out, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to,” Sasha says, annoyed, “you have this, like, fucking puppy dog look. Makes me sick. Get your coffee, I’ll find a table, and we can talk.”

Like clockwork, the moment Sasha steps away, Pieck grabs your attention and hands your coffee over along with an extra hot cup half-full of steamed almond milk. You look at her questioningly, and she merely shrugs.

“That’s a lot of espresso. I know you’re in, like, your depressed writer phase right now, but I figured a little extra milk would come in handy.”

“You’re the best,” you smile at her affectionately, thinking absentmindedly that you should invite her out to Scout’s sometime. Before she can respond, Pieck’s gaze lands on something just over your shoulder. You can smell him even before you turn around, musky cologne and a little hint of weed. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Hey Pieck. Usual?” His throaty timbre cuts through the thick air, sharp as a knife. Pieck nods politely and gets to work on his coffee, forgoing a trip to the cash register. That tracks; Pieck’s hooded eyes are bloodshot more often than not.

“Excuse me,” you mutter, trying to sneak around him, but Eren’s quicker than you, side-stepping to cut you off.

“Hey stranger,” he smiles down at you, but it’s tense, nervous, “trying to run off on me?”

“Didn’t even realize that was you, sorry,” you lie, offering him a thin smile in return. You spot Sasha gaping at you across the cafe, waving her arms wildly and mouthing What the fuck?. You can’t help but feel similarly.

“It’s been awhile, how are you?”

“M’fine, just really busy with school.” God, you hate this, this awkward small talk barely parsing its way through the jungle of things left unsaid between you two. “You?”

“Fine,” Eren looks around awkwardly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Good,” you speak directly into your coffee, unable to stomach the emerald green peering down at you.

“You know,” Eren’s words come out quite like he can’t believe he’s saying them, “I kinda thought you were avoiding me.”

“Did you?” Your voice is caught in your throat, coming out in a pathetic squeak. Has he heard the voicemail? The startling turn the conversation’s taken must be visible all over your face, because Sasha’s flailing arms beckoning you over to the table grow more urgent.

“You haven’t texted me back, haven’t seen you in a couple weeks,” Eren’s incredibly focused on his shoes, kicking one Vans sneaker idly back and forth on the floor and making a squeaking sound, “so yeah, sort of.”

“I’m busy,” you deadpan, praying to any god you can remember the name of that you’ll just disintegrate right where you stand. Eren meets your eyes again, smirks disbelievingly.

“You said that.”

Something in his tone annoys you, something about his insinuation that he knows you’re blatantly lying, that he’s teasing you over your embarrassment, ignites a little flame in your chest. You scowl at him.

“I mean, you must be pretty busy too.”

“Why’s that?”

“Breeze just got back into town, didn’t she?” No going back now. Eren’s face blanches for a moment, features growing pale, but he manages to school his face back into that nonchalant pout that you want to slap right off his face.

“Historia told you?” He doesn’t sound surprised; in face, he sounds almost expectant, like he knew you’d find out at some point. It stakes the embers burning in your chest.

“She’s my best friend, so yeah.” This feels like an argument. It shouldn’t be an argument, but your clipped tone is pushing it in that direction. You’ve spent the last two weeks reminding yourself that you have no claim on Eren, no reason to be hurt or upset, but here you are, feeling that familiar rush of anger coursing through your veins.

“I mean, we haven’t been hanging out or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Who said I was worried?”

Eren’s eyebrows knit together, a little frown playing at his mouth. “I don’t know, I mean–”

“Look, Sasha’s waiting for me,” you point over Eren’s shoulder to the little two-top table, where Sasha has stilled within the blink of an eye, shooting Eren an innocent smile and a little wave. “I’d love to catch up, but maybe another time.”

“It was good seeing you.” Eren looks confused, albeit, a little bit hurt, and you hate it. Why is that so much worse, even worse than the sight of him with Breeze hanging off of his arm? His little pout puts a needle through your ballooning anger, and you deflate, sighing.

“I’ll see you around, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” Eren takes his coffee from Pieck and ambles towards the door, sparing you one last glance over his shoulder. Unwilling to hold his eyes any longer, you scurry to your table, just having realized that Pieck forgot to put a coffee sleeve around your cup and that it’s been burning your hand for the last several minutes.

“Ow! Shit!” You practically crash land across from Sasha, dropping your cups in synchronicity and shaking your red palms around in the air to cool them down.

“What was that?” Sasha hisses, leaning across the table so viciously that your drinks nearly topple over.

“He just showed up!”

“You didn’t have to talk to him.”

“I didn’t try to. He just, like, materialized behind me and started talking. What was I supposed to do? Run away?”

“Little shit,” Sasha swears, glaring at the door as if her anger can shoot through it like a laser beam, cut Eren down where he’s surely almost a block down the street by now, “what did he say?”

“He asked if I’ve been avoiding him," you say, twirling your wooden coffee stirrer through your drink idly and trying to look as if your heart’s not still beating at what’s sure to be a dangerous rate.

“Well, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. He got all smug about it,” you scoff, the replayed scene of Eren’s self-assured smirk wiping off of his face bringing you a little bit of petty satisfaction, “until I brought up Breeze.”

Sasha’s eyes grow wide, and she looks around the coffee shop again, as if Eren or Breeze might come popping out of one of the large potted plants in the corners. “That’s actually what I wanted to tell you. What did he say about it?”

“What did you hear?” You narrow your eyes at her, and she narrows hers back.

“You first.”

“He didn’t say much, just looked really surprised that I brought her up. Said they haven’t been hanging out.”

“That’s bullshit,” Sasha snorts, rolling her eyes. Something in your chest that had begun to glimmer, something akin to hope, feels like it just got a bucket of ice-water poured over it. You cock your head, furrow your brows.

“How would you know?”

“Because Hitch and I grabbed some coffee–”

“Hitch? I thought that was a–”

“Okay, don’t crucify me, I know,” Sasha holds her hands up defensively, “it was supposed to be a one night stand, but…I don’t know. She’s cool.”

“Cool?” Even through your desperation for anything Eren-related after a two week drought, you smile knowingly at her. Sasha’s not hard to read, especially when her face goes bright red from chin to forehead.

“Yes,” she hisses, “cool. Anyway, we came by a few days ago, and Eren was here. With Breeze.”

“I mean, I expected as much.”

You’re lying, you’re so lying. The only consolation you’ve had over the last two weeks that you’re not a complete moron is the hope that maybe, just maybe, Eren’s just as forlorn as you, laying around and wishing his phone would buzz with your name on it, wishing you’d pop up at his door with a bag of popcorn ready for movie night. Instead, your worst suspicions have been confirmed, and not only is Eren very much involved with Breeze again, but he had lied straight to your face about it. Ouch.

“They weren’t like, holding hands or anything. Honestly, it looked like they were fighting.”

“Well, what did Hitch say about it?” You don’t even know if you want to know, but with your brain short-circuiting inside your skull, your mouth has free reign to seek out information that will be about as soothing as lemon juice on a papercut.

“Eren won’t talk to any of them about her,” Sasha burns her tongue on her coffee and sucks in a sharp breath, “not even Armin, apparently. She said he’s been moody lately.”

“Wonder why,” you mumble, mulling all of this new information over in your head. Breeze is bad for him, makes him crazy, you already know that. But you didn’t think it would start this soon– you feel like if anything, he should be ecstatic that his long-lost love has finally come back to him. And he can stop trying to replace her, your brain adds helpfully, only doubling the watery ache swelling in your chest.

“Who cares?” Sasha rips open a granola bar, biting into it and continuing to speak with her mouth full. “That’s why you’ve got to stop avoiding him.”

“Huh? That seems like the opposite–”

“No,” Sasha cuts you off, an air of authority in her normally chipper voice, “you’re not going to cower in the corner just because Eren’s back with his shitty ex girlfriend–”

“It’s not just because of Breeze,” you correct her, “it’s because of that voicemail. I have no idea what I said. There’s a lot that’s contributing to my self-induced isolation, trust me.”

“Regardless,” Sasha mouths around another bite of her granola bar, “the only thing that will make you feel better is being around him.”

“That sounds a little contradictory–”

“Trust me,” Sasha interrupts you again, “the best way to make a guy come around is to be up in his face, flaunting how hot and single you are, and to not give him an ounce of your attention. It’s a tried and true method, I promise.”

It turns out that you are a beacon for those with bad ideas, evidently, because later that night, you’ve ended up at Scout’s, cuddled up against the bar with Sasha despite Historia’s fervent protests. If Historia shows up later, just to “check in” (read: see what’s come of Sasha’s terrible plan), you won’t be surprised. She’s prone to being the mom friend and the harbinger of gossip, but she hasn’t shown face quite yet. It’s just you, Sasha, and a handful of regulars, sipping unreasonably cold beers and trying to act as if the early December chill hasn’t rattled you to your bones.

“This is a stupid idea,” you murmur against the lip of your bottle, trying not to seem as unnerved as you are, even after an hour of waiting and sipping. Sasha scoffs beside you, picking through your near-empty basket of peanut shells in search of a full pod.

“It’s not. He’ll be here.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you dragged me out. It only took a week for me to start missing this place,” you run a thoughtful hand along the varnished wooden bartop, “but I’m just still not sure about this whole seeing-Eren-on-purpose thing.”

Before Sasha can answer, the door swings open to reveal the man in question: Eren, accompanied by Armin and Connie, as always, and sporting his standard uniform. Black hoodie, slouchy khaki pants that are tightened around the ankles, and his beat-up Vans.

You nearly sigh into your drink at how delicious he looks, only stopping when the little voice in your head reminds you that the voicemail you’d left him exists. Friends– no, strangers now? The concept of labeling your bizarre, gray-areas-only relationship with Eren brings a chuckle up your throat, one that spills onto the bar.

You can feel him watching you, but to your simultaneous surprise and disappointment, he gives you space, sidling up to the bar a few seats down from where you and Sasha are occupying a couple of bar stools. When Connie throws up a cheerful hand in greeting to you, you tentatively wave back, only for Armin to grab Connie’s attention and turn him toward the bar.

“Ha!” Sasha says triumphantly, looking at you with her eyes glowing like you’re supposed to have reached a revelation of some sort. “See?”

“Did you plot this with Connie?” You narrow your eyes in suspicion.

“No, I’m just a genius, that’s all.”

“I feel like your theory is being proven wrong, not right. He’s not even sitting near us.”

“Because you have the upper hand!” Sasha grins.

“The upper hand?”

“Yeah, he’s giving you some space so you can make the first move, get what you want out of him.”

“And what do I want out of him?” You nearly growl in your frustration, feeling silly sitting exactly four barstools down from Eren with him running through your mind as if he isn’t close enough to just hop up and hug. It’s a genuine question more than a rhetorical one; you’re not even sure what you expect out of him anymore. Another fuck? A fancy date night? A lifetime worth of radio silence, as if Eren isn’t the person you’ve connected better with than nearly anyone else in your romantic history?

Sasha’s brows furrow. “Don’t you know?”

“No! That’s what I was trying to tell you!”

“Oh,” Sasha frowns, rubs her chin, “we should have figured that part out before we came, I guess.”

“Sasha!” You whisper-hiss, ever mindful of what you’re sure to be prying ears only a few feet away. “So you have no plan?”

Sasha stumbles, stutters, and eventually, flushes bright red with a shrug. “Okay, fine, I have no plan. But at least it’s something to break up your routine of laying in bed eating chips and moping around the library.”

“You’re such a bitch.” You roll your eyes, but you don’t mean it, not really. Regardless of how things stand, at the very least you can sneak little glances at Eren, take in how good he looks– no, you correct yourself firmly. You hopped off that train of your own accord, and you’re better for it.

With some verbal manhandling, you goad Sasha into a lull of small talk, classes, anything that comes to mind. A pair of eyes finds you, not the emerald that keeps you up at night, but a pair of hazel old-and-new eyes draw to you, and you can feel the scratch of an unwelcome gaze on your skin.

“Floch’s here,” you state the obvious, sipping your drink and giving no physical indication that you’ve noticed him, staring straight ahead as you mutter to Sasha.

“Christ, this was not a good idea,” Sasha groans, face-palming.

“Wow, I sure wish that someone had suggested this was a bad idea, wouldn’t that have been nice?”

“Shut up,” Sasha says, peeking warily over her shoulder, “I think that’s Hitch in the corner, too.”

You frown, confused at the hunched, anxious change in her posture. “Why are you being weird? Go say hey.”

“I’m not abandoning you!”

“Oh, shut it. Why are you really being weird?”

“I, uh…” Sasha twirls her beer around on the counter, blushing, “I haven’t texted her back in like, four or five days.”

“Sasha! You like her, I can tell. What’s gotten into you?”

“It was supposed to be a one-night thing,” Sasha moans, letting her face fall dramatically into her hands, “and then it was movie nights and coffee and just…way beyond casual hooking up. I like her, but…I don’t know! I panicked.”

You chew on her admission for a second, selfishly comparing Sasha’s situation to your own. Was that what you were doing with Eren? No, surely not, but was that what he was doing with you? You knew he had loved Breeze, that she had wrecked him, but maybe…just maybe some small part of you wants to hope that he’s moved on, that the coffee shop sighting was a fluke.

You shoo Sasha in Hitch’s direction, demanding she run over to apologize and make nice with Hitch, partially to save Sasha’s first shot at a real relationship in years and partially because you want to stew alone with your thoughts. Before you can get too deep into your black hole of what ifs, a familiar presence is sliding into Sasha’s seat, grinning lewdly.

You sigh; it was only a matter of time before he sought you out.

“What do you want, Forster?”

“Last name only? Ouch,” Floch places a hand over his heart, drumming the fingers of his other hand on the countertop. You recognize his demeanor immediately: pupils blown wide, buzzing to the brim with nervous energy. Floch’s always dabbled in party drugs, part of why you could only stand to be around him in small doses back when you were hooking up.

“Are you coked out right now?” Mindful of Levi’s hovering presence behind the bar, you keep your voice to a low hiss.

“So you can’t call me by my first name, but you can ask such personal questions? Jesus, you really are full of it, aren’t you?”

“Floch,” you nearly groan in frustration, “I thought I made it perfectly clear the last time I saw you that I’m not interested.”

“Why are you being so mean to me, hm?” Floch snakes a hand around your shoulders, jostling you until your face is mere inches from his. You’re more than aware of a pair of green eyes nearly boring a hole in your forehead, and you feel a pang of regret that you sent Sasha away so quickly, remembering far too late that Hitch’s table doesn’t offer a great view of where you’re seated at the bar.

“I’m not being mean,” you try to push at him, but he’s locked around you, “I’m just not interested.”

“Stop being such a bitch, Jesus Christ,” Floch finally lets you shove him away from you, but he’s far from done, “when did you get so stuck up, huh?”

“Floch. Keep your voice down, and walk away.” You try to warn him; Floch may be a pain in your ass, but you’d like to believe that he’s not a bad guy, deep down. You’re too late, however. 

Eren’s materialized between you and Floch before you can blink, before you can even get another word out. His sudden presence forces you out of your barstool, stepping around him to get a better read on what the hell he thinks he’s doing. Eren seems not to notice you trying to insert yourself between him and Floch, and the look on his face makes you step back momentarily.

He looks terrifying. Eren’s nostrils are flaring, eyes blown wide and jaw clenched tight. He’s taking full advantage of his height, glaring down at Floch with such menace that if looks could kill, Floch would already be laid out on the floor.

“Get the fuck out of here, dude. She said no.”

“What are you, her little guard dog?” Floch, infamous for never knowing what’s best for him, scoffs at Eren’s incredibly intimidating posture.

“Maybe I am,” Eren sneers, “I’m damn sure not going to sit there and let you speak to her like that.”

“Who’s this loser?” Connie’s to your right now, gesturing to Floch. You don’t miss the telltale clenching of Eren’s hands by his side, and it hits your dizzied mind what’s going on. Eren’s going to end up swinging if you don’t interfere, and Connie’s there for backup. 

“Floch, please.” You reach a feeble hand up to Floch’s chest, trying to gently push him in the other direction.

In the blink of an eye, Floch’s grabbing you by the wrist hard enough to solicit a yelp from your lips, throwing your arm away from him with a look of disgust.

“Oh, so now you want to touch me, bitch?”

No sooner has Floch’s hand released your arm than Connie’s got his arms wrapped around you, yanking you out of the crossfire. Amidst a series of gasps, Eren grabs Floch around the back of the neck, pins him face-first to the bar. 

“Jaeger!” Levi barks sharply, darting over to the scene of the commotion.

“Is that what gets you off, huh?” Eren’s nearly nose-to-nose with Floch, whose busted lip is twisted in a grimace and dribbling little bits of blood onto the varnished bartop. “Calling women bitches when they don’t want your little dick?”

“Let him go, Eren,” Armin tries to intervene, having already dashed over from his barstool. You want to back him up, but you’re frozen where you’re pinned to Connie’s chest, trembling in his arms. You know Eren’s a little rough-and-tumble, but this, seeing it in real life, is much more terrifying than you could have imagined.

“What the hell? Are you okay?” You can hear Sasha’s voice from beside you, close enough to touch but distant in comparison to where your vision is zeroed in on Eren’s grip on the back of Floch’s neck.

“Answer me!” Eren rears Floch back a few inches and slams him against the bar again. Floch curses under his breath, wriggles fruitlessly under Eren’s weight.

“Get the fuck off me, Jaeger!”

“You fucking wish,” Eren hisses, tightening his grip further, “now apologize to my girl before you make me do something I’ll regret.”

“Eren,” you find your voice again, shaking out of Connie’s grip. You fist your hands into Eren’s hoodie sleeves, tugging hard enough to get his attention. “He’s not worth it. Let him go.”

“Listen to her, Jaeger,” Levi’s already-deep voice is stained with warning.

When you pull at his sleeve a little harder, Eren turns to you, eyes still blown wide and teeth bared. It startles you, but you hold firm, setting your own jaw and shaking your head.

“Let. Him. Go. Now, Eren.” You’re not sure how you’ve managed to muster up the conviction in your voice, but you’re grateful for it, as it seems to shake Eren back into himself. Eren slowly releases Floch and in the same easy motion, he guides you behind him with one long, strong arm.

“You,” Levi points accusingly at Floch, “out.”

Floch’s jaw drops. “I didn’t even–”

“Out.” Levi’s tone leaves no room for argument, and Floch seems to understand at least that. He turns his glare back to you and Eren, scowling deeply.

“The next time I see you, Jaeger, it’s fucking over.”

“Get lost before you make me fucking embarrass you,” Eren says, voice dripping with venom. Floch shakes his head, lets his gaze land on you. A chilling smile breaks over his features.

“Next time, sweetheart.”

“Get the fuck out of here already, bro,” Connie snaps, pointing towards the exit. Floch takes his leave, sauntering towards the door with all the confidence of someone who hadn’t just been pinned against the countertop. A heavy, staticky silence falls over the bar.

“If I see you fighting in here again, it’s over.” Levi’s cold eyes fall on Eren, who nods curtly in understanding. Eren brushes his hands through his hair, rests a hand on the bun at the back of his head. Something strange is coursing through your body; something that tastes like anger, burns like heartbreak, falls bitter on your tongue like envy.

“Are you okay?” Sasha appears at your side again, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Floch’s such a psycho, I’m not even surprised he picked a fight.”

You nod numbly, eyes never leaving Eren. He finally looks back down at you, none of the heat having left his eyes.

“What the fuck was that?” It takes you a moment to realize that it’s you speaking, you throwing those words up the inches from your mouth to Eren’s. Eren’s face contorts into a frown.

“What do you mean? He was bothering you, wasn’t he?”

“So you try to fight him?” You seethe. Maybe it is anger, this bizarre, foreign emotion tingling at the tips of your fingers. No, that’s not quite it, you’re not angry you’re just…confused. Hurt that Eren’s frolicking around with Breeze, doing whatever he pleases, and yet, he’s jumping into bar fights to save you from the tangible evidence of your past.

“What do you expect me to do when someone talks to you like that?” Eren hisses back, eyes narrowed.

Sasha’s backed away from the two of you now; you’re aware of your friends staring at you, noses scrunched as they try to figure out exactly what’s happening now. You wish you had an answer to give them, but all you can muster is this heartache shooting out of your mouth in the form of daggers.

“I don’t need you,” you spit, “I don’t need your protection.”

“It didn’t exactly look like you had that handled,” Eren scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, and what are you? My knight in shining fucking armor? Don’t you have other damsels in distress waiting for you?” It’s too far, you know that as soon as the words leave your mouth, but the liquid courage Sasha had insisted upon is making your tongue sharper than you’d anticipated.

Eren rears back from where he’s hunched to meet you on your level, nostrils flaring again. Before you can utter another word, he’s got an arm thrown around your shoulders none-too-gently, practically dragging your stumbling feet towards the exit.

“Outside.”

᯽ warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, oral fixation, fem reader & pet names. Finger sucking, daddy kink. Draken babies reader, as he should, implied cockwarming.

᯽ Oral fixation off the charts today. Had to get this out because my brain rotted

Draken was reading through the news on his phone, one arm laying across the back of the couch while his eyes shifted over the words on the screen. It was a pleasant morning, the sun shining through the blinds, casting streams of golden along his black hair that was hanging lose around his shoulders

He didn’t take his eyes off his eyes phone when he felt you settle between his thighs that were spread apart. He also didn’t take his eyes off his phone when he felt your cheek pressing up against his right thigh, a little hum leaving your pouting lips.

“Kenny?”

“Yea baby?” He still didn’t look at you. It’s only when one of your hands lifted to his holding his phone, fingers fiddling with one of the rings on his finger that his dark gaze fell to you. You were still pouting and it made him smile a little.

“Kenny” You repeated again, and he caught the subtle whine in your tone.

“Yes, lil love?” He asks, sitting up a bit from his spot, finally setting down his phone so you could take his hand into both of yours. You were looking up at him through your lashes, tongue poking out to lick at your pretty pouty lips. You continues to play with his hand, tracing the one of the larger veins that crossed the back of his palm. “You need somethin?”

You nodded, your eyes fluttered a bit. Your gaze left his to look at his hand, before looking back up to him while nibbling on your lower lip. You cheek pressed further into his thigh when his grin grew, and finally you couldn’t help but whine. A soft, little whine.

“Mhm.. need—“ you licked your lips again. “Really want your fingers..” you trailed off as you brought his hand closer to your face. You pressed a kiss to the cold metal of the rings on his middle finger and ring finger, your eyes seeming to get a little glossy layer when he chuckled softly.

“Yea?” He spreads his legs a little further, his free hand patting the thigh you’re not leaning on. “C’mere, up.”

You don’t hesitate to crawl into his lap, curling yourself comfortably in his lap as you keep his hand held tightly in yours. You whined again, this time the sound vibrating through his skin cause your lips were pressed up against his knuckles.

“Open your mouth, pretty.” He murmured, his lashes lowering a bit as you obediently lulled your glossy lips open. His two fingers, specifically the two with the rings, didn’t hesitate to sink between your lips. Pads of his fingers pressed to your tongue as you closed your mouth around him, the pleased mewl you make around the digits making his pants feel a little tighter. Your eyes are shiny when you look up to him again, and he couldn’t help but picture little hearts in your eyes when you suckled his digits.

“That’s my good girl…” he murmurs softly, relaxing into the couch and letting you lay on him further. His other hand rubs your thigh, squeezing the familiar doughy flesh in his hand and gently massaging. “Just needed somethin between these pretty lips, didn’t ya?”

You nod, nice and slow and hum against his fingers. Your tongue pokes at his fingers, smoothing over his rings and sighing deeply out your nose. A little bit of drool bubbles from the corner of your lip and draken can’t help but chuckle fondly at you.

His cute little baby.

“Can suck on em all you want, okay?” You nod, eyes now getting a bit narrowed as your brain turns off. Just how he likes it. Loves seeing you pliant and soft, just for him. He pets your tongue, wetting his own lips as both your hands wrap around his much larger wrist. It makes his cock twitch under you.

“Then daddy’s gunna give you his cock. I know this pretty little mouth will keep it warm f’me.”

Tagging: @tokyometronetwork and sister wives @tokyomanjihoe @1990-06-12 <333

ch2/ch4

summary: You’d sworn you didn’t want anything to do with your father, or with your family business. You’d left the country for college, and by the time you’d started your second year of grad school your old life felt like a distant untrustworthy memory.

So when he calls you in late November to tell you he’s dying, your carefully constructed boundaries crumble. You agree to come home for Christmas, on the condition that you help him sort out his will.

By the time your plane lands, it’s too late. He’s died under mysterious circumstances while your plane was in the air. Chaos ensues, when millions of dollars, thousands of weapons, and a thriving criminal enterprise are willed directly to you - and your husband.

Just one problem? You’re not married. Yet.

genre: fluff, smut, angst

cws - mafia tropes, guns, threats, violence(physical), yan!oikawa for plot reasons, blood mention, drug mentions, reader’s father is dead, and in this chapter we have his funeral and she eulogizes him. All characters in their mid twenties. f!reader. reader’s skin shows bruises(sorry couldn’t get around this for plot reasons), readers celebrated christmas as a child.

Ch 3: Kuroo I

There’s an awkwardness as the meeting breaks up, it’s clear you’ve never received so much male attention, from your averted gaze and nervously dancing hands. People resist the urge to walk right up to you, so you take Kuroo’s drink out of his hand and sip it. He shakes his head,

“Kitten,” he snatches the drink back, somehow not spilling it on his perfectly pressed suit, “I thought you were too pure to steal.”

“I’ve stolen things!” You retort, non crutch hand flying to your hip in protest.

“Ah,” You hear behind you. You turn and see Akaashi, an apology clear in his gunmetal eyes. “I’d love to borrow the lady.”

“I’m sure you would.” Kuroo smirks. “Lyvochka can babysit.” Lev stands, pouting a little.

“Being your bodyguard is actually a demotion, just so you know,” he mumbles to you and Kuroo just shakes his head and waves you off. You crutch forward, moving awkwardly through the private country club room over to the bar. Lev follows, but Akaashi helps you into a tall stool handing your crutch to the huge blonde, then sitting next to you.

“So,” he says, shifting his weight. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.” He gets the waiter's attention, ordering a round of drinks with a wave.

“How are you?” You say, and he furrows his brow.

“It’s odd, to have you ask me that.” He looks out the window for a moment. “I’m alright, I suppose. I’m quite worried about you.”

“Am I um,” you lean forward, “What do you think of Kuroo?”

“He’s certainly been a trusted ally over the last few years.” Akaashi muses. “But he’s a dangerous arms dealer, no matter how charming he might be, there’s blood on his hands.” You feel Lev stiffen.

“Akaashi,” you say quickly, quietly, “If um, if you still, I mean if you ever, you know, loved me, I need your help.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he takes both your hands, “Of course I’m going to help.” You look out over the room, nodding.

“I need to know what to do.” Your voice is a teakettles whisper, high pitched and pained. “And I’m so scared of um, of what could happen if I choose wrong.” He takes your good hand. “I need you to tell me what to-” he cuts you off by bushing your hair out of your face.

“This is not a place we can discuss it.” He leans in, so close to you that you can count the freckles on his nose. “You’re alright, he’s treating you alright?” You feel his hand brush your waist and something heavy drop into your pocket. You don’t react at all, just nodding.

“He’s been a gentleman mostly.” You shiver. “He’s a little honest, but I suppose, ah, that’s not a terrible thing in a husband.” Akaashi does a little head shake, surprised.

“You’re thinking of picking him?”

“I am.” You take a sip of your drink. “I always liked dark hair.” The smallest smile crosses his face. “Plus, he’s smart, an ex med student, I could talk to him about my work, and about chemistry, and he’d be able to follow.” You blink a couple of times, remembering, “Oh wait, I’m so sorry, how’s your family, I should have asked, I’ve been so preoccupied with-”

“You buried your father today.” He says, a hand coming to rest on your knee. “I don’t expect you to be concerned with me,” he looks into your eyes, the delicate softness there is like running his hands over the lightest filigree sheets. He wonders, after all these years, if the scars and calluses would catch, and tear holes in you. “But of course you are, because you’re still you.”

“Are you still you?” You ask quickly, feeling the alcohol bringing the blood to your cheeks. You glance down at the scars on his hands, the bulge of the guns in their holsters on his shoulders. “Are you still um, you know, after everything, are you, still-”

“Sometimes.” He says, and the admission is painful, the words sharp enough in his throat to draw blood. “Sometimes I am.”

“I understand.” You say quietly, as he reaches out and inspects your bruise.

“I’ll kill him.” Akaashi mutters. “I’ll do it myself.”

“Please don’t.” You say quickly, and he cocks his head. “I mean, um, I just, I don’t want you to kill anyone.” He looks uncomfortable. “Not for me, at least.” He goes to respond but a Lev places a hand on your shoulder.

“Kuroo wants to leave.” He hands you the crutch. Akaashi gives you another quick hug.

“I’ll see you shortly.” He says. “I promise.” You nod, and Lev helps you out of the room, followed by the rest of Nekoma.

“Not going to let anyone else talk to me?” You say, when Kuroo takes his place at your side.

“I think it was rather generous of me to let you speak with Akaashi.” You slip your hand in your pocket, feeling something cool and glass. Akaashi had slipped you a cell phone. You do your best to keep your reaction from your face. Kuroo helps you into the car, your nostrils filled with the scent of clean leather again, as he pulls you next to him. “So,” he rolls up the partition, “Did I come through or what?” You nod slowly.

“You did for the most part.” You shift uncomfortably. “Oikawa is going hurt me. For sure.” You let out a long shaky breath and Kuroo inspects you for signs of acting, signs of a larger game, and finds none. Only genuine terror.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He says seriously.

“Not that I’m not grateful, but why?” You look up at his handsome face, he’s perfectly clean shaven, you realize, not a nick or a missed spot.

“Because when we’re married,” he says, and your mouth drops open, “I want you to remember what a good job I did taking care of you.” He picks you up and sets you in his lap with a soft grunt. “I want my wife to like me.”

“You do?” You give him a half smile as you stretch a bit to straddle his long legs in your tight black dress. His hands come to rest on your thighs.

“I do.” He says brightly, before leaning in to speak directly in your ear, “Which is why you’re going to show me what Akaashi slipped in your pocket, and I won’t punish you for not telling me the minute we got in the car.” Your blood runs cold,

“Kuroo I-”

“Shhh, Kitten,” He opens his hand, “It’s alright, like I said, you’re not in trouble, I’ll give it back, but I’d appreciate honesty from my fiancee.” You swallow and place the cell phone in his palm with trembling hands. “Oh,” he looks at you, sharply, seeing the fear on your face, “Oh you’re trembling, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He reaches out and cups your face with his free hand. “I’m going to do my best to take care of you, so any help you can offer would be appreciated.” You nod.

“What um,” you ask quietly, still in his lap as the car starts moving away from the country club, back to the city, “What does a punishment from you look like?” He considers.

“I’m a confident man.” He says, after a long period of silence. “I like to be in charge, and if we were married, to a degree, I would expect you to submit to me.” He says all of this without a hint of embarrassment or contrition. “Not I mean, day to day, I’m not going to tell you what to wear, or what to eat, unless you want that. But specifically, in the bedroom.”

“That’s so old fashioned!” You protest, and he shrugs.

“I think you’re going to find very few heads of mafia houses that don’t have similar tastes to me, and besides,” He straightens a little, “Tell me you don’t get a little turned on when I give you an order.” You shake your head, sighing. “Just tell me you don’t like this,” he says, reaching up and wrapping a huge hand around your neck, not squeezing, it’s very gently possessive. He smirks. “Your pupils are so dilated, kitten, it’s okay to say you want me to be in charge.”

“I hate you.” You mutter, looking away, and you feel him tighten his grip and pull your face closer to his own.

“See that kind of insubordination I just can’t tolerate.” He tightens his fist until you’re gasping.

“Kuroo, please,” You wheeze.

“Tell me you want me to stop.” He orders, and you bite your lower lip. He crows with laughter. “Should we see if you’re enjoying yourself?” Your eyes dart over your shoulder, and he shakes his head. “First of all, focus on me, second of all, I don’t give a shit who hears.” His tone gets cold for a second, “Sit still.” His fingers ghost your panties, slipping them to the side. “Awfully wet, kitten,” he purrs, basking in his victory as you shudder in anticipation, “Whatsa a matter, afraid they’ll take away your feminist card if you call me daddy?” Your mouth drops open,

“I’m not going to, ah,” he tightens his grip on your neck again. “Kuroo, I’m,” you gasp, “That’s,” your eyes start to water as you meet his burning amber gaze.

“I can do this all night,” He says flippantly, “You, not so much.”

“F-fine,” you croak, and he relaxes again, letting you breathe, his other hand still barely brushing your sex. He follows your gaze.

“No, if you want more,” he says, “You need to ask for it, and it’s a testament to my good will that after so much resistance I’m still interested in your pleasure at all. That will not always be the case, you have my word.”

“Please,” you beg, “please touch me.”

“A good start.” He says, eyes glinting. “But you’re a smart girl, right, you know what I’m waiting for.”

“Please touch me, daddy.” You plead with him, and he chuckles.

“You are just as cute as I thought you’d be, saying that.” He pushes a single finger inside you, and you nearly double over, but remembering what you’d learned in your limited experience, instead of catching yourself you wrap your arms behind your back, holding onto the opposite elbow. “Look at you!” Kuroo crows, “For that, you can cum when you want to, Kitten, I won’t make you beg.” He slips a second finger inside you, scissoring them a little. You gasp, and lean forward, “Sit up,” he says, “This time I want to watch you.” He’s incredibly skilled, making quick work of you, he’s already got you moaning softly, with gentle reminders to look at him, not to break eye contact, when he starts rubbing your clit with his thumb in addition to finding the spot inside of you that makes your eyes roll. You try your hardest to be good, to listen, but your eyes keep flicking to his muscled forearm, tensing as he fucks you with his long fingers.

“Oi,” He says sharply, “Final warning not to break eye contact with me.”

“Y-yes,” you choke out, “Daddy, thank you,” He softens a bit at the title,

“You’re getting close, I can feel it,” You nod emphatically, “Ask permission.”

“Please can I cum daddy,” the words spill from your lips and he smirks,

“Hmmm.”

“Please.” You beg, and he sighs, forcing another moan from your lips when he presses up against the spongey spot inside of you.

“Cum for me.” He orders, and you do, vaulting off the cliff of your orgasm, Kuroo lets go of your neck, and guides your face into his chest, “What a good little kitten,” he purrs as you tremble in his arms, dangling his fingers in your face, and to his shock and delight you seem to understand the implicit command, sucking his fingers gently until they’re clean.

“You just got lucky,” you mumble into his neck, “That I happen to be submissive most of the time in bed, you could be with someone who only likes to peg you.”

“I could sense it.” He brags, “Plus there’s no woman I can’t dominate, you’re all putty in my hands.”

“I think your feminist card is gonna get revoked.” You grumble. He shakes his head.

“Men get to keep ours no matter what, for letting you vote!” He boops your nose, and you roll your eyes, “Ah, ah,” he catches your chin gently.

“Fine.” You grumble, climbing off of him.

“So,” He hands you his cell phone, “I’ve been looking into volcanology programs in Tokyo, I’m not sure how your grades are but these seem to be decent.” You look up at him eyes narrowed. “Yes?”

“Ah,” you choose your words carefully. “Two things. One, um, you really think I’m going to choose you?”

“No one is going to give you as much freedom.” He shrugs. “And that’s what you want, I can tell. The second thing?”

“I think I’m struggling with the tension between the man who wants me to submit to him and the man who picked out two excellent volcanology grad programs for me based on a passing comment?” He shrugs.

“I looked into sedimentology,” He says, “But you’d need somewhere with a specific kind of coastline to get practical field experience in uh, the kind of facies profile, and uh,”

“That was very close.” You smile at him. “But yeah.”

“I have,” the car pulls into the mansion driveway. “Very little use for things that don’t have utility, beautiful women are nice, kitten, good to look at, enjoyable to fuck, but I could never love someone that was simply beautiful.” He pauses, “And listening to you talk today, about your parents, about the love you dreamed you’d have, if you choose me, I will endeavor to give that to you.”

“And the volcanology?” You say, he thinks about it, before opening the door.

“You may have witnessed love as a kind of worship, a kind of radical devotion, in the love your parents had for each other. For me, love is about a deep understanding one person can have of another.” He opens the car door. “You look surprised?”

“You’re still a brute.” You say, after a moment. “Still an arms dealer,” he chuckles, “Even if you’re smart and charming.”

“Sounds like you’re reminding yourself, and not me.” He hands your crutch to one of his men and plucks you off your feet while you squeal. “I have some work to do.” He says, opening the door to his home with his elbow, snow falling around you. “Unfortunately, due to your little untruth, earlier, I suppose,” he couches, when he sees your face fall, “A lie by omission is still a lie, kitten, I will have to restrain you, it’s just a formality, and I promise not to be more turned on by it than would be appropriate.”

“Kuroo!” You protest, and he chuckles.

“You’re adorable when you think your indignance is righteous, but I’ve already promised not to enjoy it.” “You said more than would be appropriate.” You squirm in his arms but he only holds you tighter, carrying you up the ornate staircase.

“And that would be very little, considering the circumstances.” You’re struck now, that you’re no longer in shock, how cozy Kuroo’s mansion is. The wood floors are a golden oak, the walls are soft cream adorned with art, and there are dark complex oriental rugs underneath the dark furniture. There are fireplaces crackling in nearly every room you pass, and the house is completely decked out for the holidays, pine branches adorning bannisters, filling the house with the sparking scent of christmas trees. Kuroo notices you looking. “Do you like it?” You feel a twinge of sadness.

“It looks like Christmas on TV.” You murmur, leaning against his broad chest.

“Did your father not celebrate?” He asks, as he elbows his way through a door to a more discreet stairwell.

“Not as a family, really. Especially after my mother passed.” He gives you a little squeeze. “I love Christmas though, in New York.” You sigh, “It’s like the whole world comes out, and everyone who lives there complains about the tourists, but I, I love it. The light is softer, and the snow gets gross but it’s just,” you struggle to find the words, “Sorry, it’s a feeling, I’m, I don’t have the words.”

“I’ve been to New York, but not for Christmas.” He says, reaching the top of the stairway to the third floor.

“Ah, am I being moved from where I slept last night?”

“Yes.” Kuroo says, opening another door with his elbow. “This is my room.” You look around, the walls are a deep green, with raw dark wood molding, and a huge wall of bookshelves. There’s a window seat that faces the front yard and the street, and you can see the snow swirling on the roof.

“Oh,” You look up at him.

“I won’t touch if you if you tell me you don’t want me to.” He says cheerfully. “But I think given what a sweet little thing you were in the car,” you feel your face burn, “There’s little danger in that.” He deposits you on the bed, being careful not to touch your wrist or foot. “I’m not sure, if you’re planning on sleeping your way through the most powerful men in Tokyo,” he goes over to dark wood antique armoire and starts rifling through the drawers. “But it’s not something I would hold against you, just so you’re aware.”

“Really?” You cock your head at him and he turns around, placing a hand over his heart.

“Do you really think me so petty that in my jealousy I might think less of you?”

“Kuroo we met twenty four hours ago.” He screws up his face.

“I keep forgetting. That’s a good sign, though I think.” He pauses for a moment. “I don’t think experience diminishes a woman, and furthermore,” his lips curl into a smirk, “If you were to, sleep with the rest of them, and decide I was the most skilled-”

“There it is.” You jump in.

“Kitten!” He pulls something from the drawer, a length of red rope. “You’ve got quite a mouth on you.” He says, as if he’s just deciding this now. “I like it, don’t get me wrong, but, I look forward to seeing what else it’s good for.” You laugh.

“You’re absurdly confident.”

“I know.” He says, gently moving you so that you’re lying on your side. “I’m not about to tie rope over your broken wrist,” he says, when he sees you flinch. Instead he carefully ties your elbows together in front of your face, and attaches the other end of the rope to the headboard. “It’s a little uncomfortable I’m sure.” He says, still cheerful. “But that’s what makes it a punishment.” You stretch a little and he carefully arranges your hair so that you can see. He then takes a pillow, and slips it under your broken ankle.

“Ah, Kuroo.” The adrenaline of the meeting and the funeral having worn off, you were in pain again. “The pain meds?” He thinks about it.

“You can’t have them unless your blood alcohol level is below a certain threshold, you had two drinks, straight liquor, one of them, very quickly,” he shakes his head at you, “Scotch is not meant to be gulped, by the way.” You roll your eyes at him and he chuckles dangerously. “Oh that’s such a bad idea for you, I’m keeping track of how many times you do it, by the way.” He looks up and to the left, doing some complex math in his head. “And, you may have one percocet in an hour. I’ll have Lev bring it up to you.”

“Why not now?” you ask, trying not to whine as the pain in your foot grows worse by the minute.

“Because you can’t mix alcohol and painkillers.” He says, “Sorry I don’t want you to die, I’m a spoilsport like that.” He pauses when he reaches the door handle. “Is there anything not drugs that I can have someone get for you?”

“Um, dinner?” He blinks a couple times.

“Of course.” And like that, he’s gone. Kuroo bounds down the stairs, stopping to give instructions to one of his servants before opening the secret paneled door to his study, where the rest of the men are waiting.

“You should have just kept her.” Kenma says, voice barely above a whisper as he pours over paperwork, sipping a glass of bourbon.

“I’m not fussed.” Kuroo shrugs. “She likes me.”

“Yeah,” Lev says, a note of annoyance in his voice, “I nearly crashed the car, those partitions aren’t exactly soundproof you know.” Kai looks sharply at Kuroo, who flops on the couch.

“Did you have sex with her?”

“No,” Kuroo shakes his head, pouring himself his own drink. “Just demonstrated to her that I was a person who would be interested primarily in taking care of her.”

“She’s right,” Lev grumbles, “That you’re just lucky that she’s submissive, Kuroo there are women who switch, and dom.”

“You’d know all about that.” Yaku says dryly.

“And so would you!” Lev grins, and Yaku’s face burns, “Nothing to be ashamed of,” he ruffles the shorter man’s sandy hair, “I love a woman who takes control.” He considers, “Sometimes it’s nice to just throw them where you want them though, that makes sense Kuroo.”

“Ah,” Kuroo says, “I know professional work environment went out the window when we started running guns but perhaps I don’t need to know the details of-”

“You fingered a girl to completion in the backseat of a car I was driving after her father’s funeral, and you made her call you daddy.” There’s a silence, Kuroo blanches, “Yeah, I think you might be going to hell.”

“I didn’t think about that,” Kuroo mutters, ears reddening.

“Oh my god,” Yaku says, “Kenma look, he’s actually capable of shame.” Kenma lifts his head, inspecting his friend and leader.

“We should be plotting our next move.” He says,and Kuroo nods.

“I have a point of order.” He turns to Lev and Yaku. “I want you to find out what happened between Oikawa and our guest.” Kenma sighs. “I assumed she was exaggerating when she arrived here, perhaps in shock due to the death of her father. But I pointed a gun at him and told him to leave her alone and he nearly didn’t back down.” He sighs again. “Shippments running smoothly?” Kenma nods.

“I’m moving them extra cautiously due to the general unrest after the stuff today,” He mumbles, “It’ll slow us down but it won’t cost anything.” Kuroo smiles at the younger man, who doesn’t return his warmth.

“Alright, everyone out.” There are a few grumbles, but Kuroo catches Kenma. “Except you.” Kenma nods, brushing back the strands of his hair that have escaped from his bun. Kuroo waits until they’re alone to speak.

“I need you to get on board here.” Kuroo says, sitting in front of his childhood friend, knees resting on his elbows.

“I’m on board.” Kenma lifts his head.

“I can tell that you aren’t.” Kuroo sighs, “Listen, I know-”

“You have to do this because of me.” Kenma says, and there’s a rare raw emotional edge to his voice, “This is my fault.”

“Absolutely not, you did what you thought was right-”

“But I was wrong, and you had to clean it up!” Kenma hisses, “I don’t, I’m never wrong.”

“There was no way for you to know he’d retaliate to something like that,” Kuroo rolls one of his shoulders, stiff from the time spent in the pew. “And, it’s not your fault you were taken, and of course I came for you, and,” he notices Kenma look away, “Look at me when I say this.” Kenma lifts his head. “I would shoot that bastard again. Right now. If he were here, for putting a gun to your head.”

“You’re going to marry his daughter.” Kenma whispers.

“And I’ll spend the rest of my life atoning for-”

“Love isn’t atonement, you can’t pretend that those emotions are going to coexist, that you’ll, that you’ll find peace, living like that.” Kenma interrupts him. “You didn’t want to get married.” Kuroo shrugs.

“Honestly,” His lips quirk into a half smile. “I like her. More than I should. She’s beautiful, sure, but she’s smart, nice birthing hips.” Kuroo teases, and Kenma full on shudders. “It’s important to me,” he says, pausing, choosing his words precisely, “That you know that I don’t take killing to save your life lightly, but that I’d do it again.”

“And now you’re going to go,” Kenma’s eyes burn with tears, “And fuck his daughter.” Kuroo stands groaning loudly.

“I like her, more than plenty of women I’ve fucked!” He pleads with Kenma, “Sometimes, things have to be done, and I can see, when I look at her, I can see the future, I can see breakfast, I can see fresh squeezed orange juice, I can see her teaching our kids to play piano, I-”

“She’s going to hate you, when she finds out.” Kenma says, bitterly.

“She’s not going to find out.” Kuroo rubs his face.

“You can’t keep a secret like that from the woman you intend to marry,” Kenma shakes his head.

“I want her,” The butterflies in his stomach are making him dizzy, “She’s, you saw her today, speaking in church, she wrote that eulogy in 12 hours, barely awake, slightly concussed, she’s getting an advanced degree in science and she desperately, desperately needs someone to take care of her.” Kenma shakes his head.

“You shot her father.”

“It turns out that was more complicated than we originally thought.” He rubs his eyes. “Listen. Don’t feel guilty. I like her, this is a great outcome for me. Possible stress relief, a wonderful woman who willingly engages with me intellectually, she even likes chemistry.” He pats Kenma’s head. “And I’d do it again.” There’s a pause, Kuroo walks towards the door, then stops. “But we have to,” he glances out the window, “We have to take responsibility for our actions. Whatever Oikawa’s got planned for her, she wants no part of it. We should assist in her avoiding that fate, regardless of what she can do for us.”

“You’re a saint.” Kenma says dryly.

“Hardly.” Kuroo’s tone has less humor in it. “I’m not a superstitious man, it pays in my line of work not to believe in an afterlife, or hell,” he shudders, “But today in church, listening to her speak, and sing, I just,” he considers, “That’s who I want eulogizing me.” Kenma looks at him sharply. “And I’ll give her excellent stories to tell.”

“It’s not like you to fall fast.” Kenma leans back in the couch, his suit wrinkling a little.

“It’s not, it’s not just romantic,” Kuroo pauses, “I feel a sense of responsibility, and I’m an excellent judge of character. I know who she is, and I like it. Also, you saw the way she was shaking when she turned up on our doorstep.”

“It would make me a bad advisor,” Kenma reaches out and takes a sip of whiskey, “If I didn’t point out the possibility of her having her own agenda.” Kuroo nods.

“I’m not blind to it. I promise.”

“You can be!” Kenma grins, “That’s what I’m here for.”

Kuroo makes his way up the stairs quietly, hoping not to disturb you, but the second he pushes the door open, your eyelids flutter, and you stir.

“Ah, sorry.” He says, ducking into his private bathroom to wash up.

“It’s okay,” you say, your voice more tired than you expect. “Are these your normal hours?”

“I don’t really keep normal hours.” He responds, splashing cool water on his face before reaching for his bottle of listerine, “I have painkillers for you though.” He dries his face and spits the mouthwash in the sink, slipping out of his loafers. “I have to admit, I’m a little nervous.” He watches you muster a smile. “Oh,” he sighs, realizing, “Oh, kitten, you’ve been crying, hold on,” He fumbles in his pocket for the little bottle of pills, he rushes to your bedside as you hide your face in the pillow.

“Sorry,” You say, throat painfully tight, “I just, my dad,” you sniff. “And everything hurts, Kuroo, and I’m scared, and I’m vulnerable, and I hate being vulnerable.” He dashes to the bathroom and comes back with a glass of water.

“Open your mouth.” He says firmly, and you obey, letting him place the purple pill on your tongue, then tip the glass of water into your mouth. You’re still dutifully attached to the headboard and he takes a moment to pat your head. “Just sit tight for a moment, and I’ll be there.” He rips himself out of his suit, tossing the clothes on an armchair and coming back over to the bed in only his boxers.

“I-is that how you sleep?” You choke out and he shrugs.

“It’s how I prefer to sleep, yes.” He reaches over and quickly unties you, letting you fold in on yourself. “Oh,” he coos again, “Come here, I’m so sorry, alright, I’m so sorry.” You sob against his bare chest.

“S-so embarrassing,” you get out between sharp breaths.

“It really isn’t.” He rubs your back. “The things you’ve been able to do today, speaking up at the meeting, eulogizing your father at all, coming here, even the decision to try and hide the phone from me-”

“I didn’t,” you sob, “Decide that, I was barely thinking at the time, I just,”

“Shhhh,” He rocks you back and forth, “When my father passed I was inconsolable for a week.” You snuggle against him, trying to modulate the ugly sounds coming from your throat. “You’ve been so strong, and you’ve been in so much pain, you’re going to sleep well tonight.” He kisses your forehead. “You know you’re safe, right?”

“Yeah,” You warble, “I know I’m safe with you, Kuroo.” You feel the painkiller numbing your limbs, making your head feel lighter as he kisses your head again. “Can I ask you something,” you say, and his heart jumps to his throat, could you have heard, somehow could you know- “Are you going to sleep with the lights on?”

“Ah no.” He says, barely maintaining his cool as he gets up and flicks the lights in the room off. “You’re fine with this amount of darkness?” You nod, stretching across the bed.

“Your sheets are nice.” You wipe your tears a little.

“Of course they are.” he climbs back in bed, joining you under the covers. “I told you, I like beautiful things that also have utility.”

“Okay follow up question,” you say, when you’re lying down together, “And then I’m done talking because I can feel myself unmooring from reality and I don’t want you to interrogate me while my subconscious is accessible.” He chuckles. “I feel like you’re being too kind to me. This feels like a trap.” He nods.

“I did tie you down?”

“Right but you keep comforting me.” You scoot a little closer. “And it doesn’t feel manipulative, but that means it probably is, I just, I keep trying to imagine and predict the actions of people around me I want, I want to be safe, and I want to do it myself.”

“And it’s the last point that’s sticking, isn’t it?” He props up his head on his palm. “That you want to save yourself, you don’t want me to protect you, or Akaashi, or Bo or Oikawa, you want to be back in your apartment making what, minimum wage, TAing three classes a semester, all because in that life you didn’t have to rely on anyone else.” You lie there in stunned silence. “I can tell that part of it is stubbornness, perhaps your father would have called it grit, or something American like that.”

“I can empathize with the need for independence,” He continues, “But what I don’t understand is denying yourself comfort and success in order to achieve it.” You sigh deeply, and even in the low light he can see that your eyes have glazed over. “So tell me the truth,” he reaches out and cups your face, stroking your cheek. “Why won’t you let me take care of you?”

“You’re an arms dealer.” You slur a little.

“And you’re that moral?” He watches you flop on your back, clearly you’re feeling the side effects now, moving more freely than he’s seen.

“I stole a toothbrush once.” You mumble, and he sits up, grinning. “No, none of that,” you swat at him absentmindedly. “I thought about it for months, years maybe, and I didn’t even do it on purpose.”

“I’m sure whatever corporation made that toothbrush really hurt from the ten cents loss.” Kuroo offers, smiling, but you scowl.

“That’s not the point, the point is that as soon as I was old enough to know what my father did was dangerous and illegal I was terrified for him. I didn’t want to join clubs, or make friends, for years I just completely isolated myself out of fear that if I didn’t my father could get hurt, or people I brought into my life could get hurt.”

“Oh shit,” Kuroo murmurs, floored, “You’re thinking about your kids.”

“Like you assholes don’t want to have your own goddamn kids. I’m not ready by the way,” you say, a slight slur to your words, and he chuckles darkly.

“We all do illegal things though.”

“Some of you do less illegal things, right, there has to be a scale,” you say desperately, “I don’t want to be taking my kids to visit daddy in jail!” His lips curl into a smile.

“First of all, love that you referred to me as daddy-”

“I didn’t-”

“Second of all, you and I are people of science. So let’s set benchmarks, and turn this into a set of actual criteria that you can use to know data wise who is the right person for you, so that you can ignore the data and follow your heart into my arms again.” You shake your head but when Kuroo flips the lights on he sees the smile you’re fighting. He grabs a notebook from his bedside table, and a pair of glasses.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, sitting up, and he smirks a little.

“Try not to drool, kitten.” His joke doesn’t have the effect he’s used to though, with the slight fuzziness of the pill you’ve taken it seems like you’re having a hard time controlling your genuine reactions in favor of snippy comebacks.

“Kuroo, when does an arms dealer have time to go to the gym?” He shrugs, smirk widening at how you can’t take your eyes off of his abs.

“I have a gym at home.” He explains. “I played volleyball at a pretty high level in high school and college, so I go crazy when I don’t work out.”

“Gym in the basement huh?” You scoot up on the bed and he takes the hint, moving you so that you’re nestled against his chest.”

“Is your foot okay?” He asks and you nod. “And no, the basement has other purposes.”

You shudder against him and he rubs comforting patterns on your upper arm. “Alright, so degree of illegality is important.” You nod. “What else?”

“I’d like to be romantically and intellectually attracted to them.” You mumble, and Kuroo nods. “And um, the amount of freedom they’d allow me, that’s important too.” He nods, scribbling on the pad. “What else,” He feels you relax against him, with your head on his chest, “Do you think is important?”

“Well you’ve said you’re not ready to have kids, right?” You nod. “How long they’re willing to wait, because most of them are going to assume you’ll be ready right after the wedding.” You shiver again and he leans down and presses his lips to your forehead. “Daichi and I will look after you, alright?” The words fall from his lips before you can stop them, but he’s not entirely sure you understand. “No one is going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, as long as I’m alive.” You blink up at him, eyes unexpectedly wet.

“I just don’t understand why you care.” You whisper.

“Does it matter?” He stops rubbing your arm for a moment.

“I need to understand things.” You complain, melting against him again.

“We’ll use your ex as a benchmark.” He says quietly, changing the subject. “Rate him for me in those things out of ten.” You screw your face up.

“He wasn’t illegal,” you mumble, “So zero.”

“Really?” Kuroo says dryly and to his shock you consider.

“He wanted to be a politician,” you slur a little again, “So a two.” Kuroo laughs genuinely. “Give him a 6 on intellectual and romantic attraction, and a 7 on freedom, and a 4 on willing to wait till I was ready to have kids.” Kuroo notes it in the legal pad, and you yawn again. He reaches over and flicks off the light. “I’m surprised,” you mumble, “That you aren’t trying to seduce me right now.”

“You’re in no shape to have sex.” Kuroo says firmly. “You have at least two broken bones, and you’re definitely too incapacitated to consent.”

“And you care about that?” He reaches down and pinches your arm playfully

“Of course I do.” He pauses. “Are you scared, for tomorrow?” You swallow nervously.

“Akaashi seems different.” He nods.

“I’m gonna give you the phone back, but with our numbers in it. You can text Lev for minor issues, and me for major ones.”

“Minor issues?” You settle under the blanket next to him as he lies down again.

“I’m,” he pauses, “Sensitive to the fact that you’d likely have a female friend to discuss these matters with. Lev’s all I have to offer you, and I promise he is as simple as he looks.” You laugh lightly. “But if you’re in a situation where you’d like me to come save you, like the pretty little damsel you are,” you groan loudly, “You may reach out to me. Now sleep, Kitten, that’s an order.” You obey surprisingly quickly, the drugs in your system making you nearly pliant. He watches you for a bit, watches the muscles in your face relax, your breathing soften, and tries to imagine spending the rest of his life crawling into bed with you.

“You know,” he says quietly, knowing you can’t hear him, “You’re too smart for your own good.”

His windowseat faces the east and sun spills through it onto the stained wood floors, warming the room with a golden light. You stir, the painkillers having worn off, your foot and wrist throbbing gently.

“Mmm,” Kuroo groans softly. “Don’t move.” You realize you’re still nestled against his chest, cheek pressed to him, one hand resting at the center of his ribs, his arm wrapped around you, hand resting on your hip.

“Can we sleep in?” You whisper, and he nods without opening his eyes.

“Someone comes in to wake me up when things are important.” You sigh happily and close your eyes again, the tiniest alarm bell going off in your brain at how comfortable and safe you feel in his arms. You wake a few hours later, and untangle yourself from his limbs, hobbling to the bathroom while he snores softly. You brush your teeth and use his mouthwash, cleaning your face with his skincare, picking up one of the nearly untouched bottles.

“Kuroo,” you call, one hand on the counter so you don’t have to put any weight on your foot. “Do you even use this stuff?” He groans loudly.

“I don’t know what any of it’s for, it’s been sitting there since my birthday in November.” He rolls out of bed and follows you into his bathroom. “I hope you’re not putting weight on that.” He eyes your foot.

“I have to get around a bit!” You protest and he shakes his head.

“Hopefully the others will scare you into obedience so that I don’t have to.” He reaches for the first bottle. “So what does this do?” You snatch it from him, and examine the label.

“This is toner.” You set it back on the counter. “You have to wash your face first.” He grins.

“Do it for me.”

“What?” Your mouth drops open as he sits on the closed toilet, still shamelessly just in his briefs.

“You heard me,” He says, a lazy grin stretching across his handsome face. “I want you to wash my face for me.” You roll your eyes and he chuckles dangerously. “God you’re lucky you’re injured, I’d take you over my knee for that.” You squeak with fear and he nods. “There, that’s a healthy reaction. You shake your head, reaching for the cleanser and reading the label.

“This isn’t probably what I’d pick for you,” You explain, “Because your skin looks healthy and this is kind of astringent but ah, I’m not an expert.” He nods sagely, watching you squirt some of it onto a clean washcloth, then wet it. You hobble over to him, bracing your weight against the marble counter of his sink. He pats his thighs, and you hesitate for only a second before sitting on his lap, straddling him. He holds you steady, strong hands resting on your waist.

“Ooh,” he hisses, “That’s cold, Kitten.” You gently dab at his face with the soapy end of the washcloth, careful not to pull or put too much pressure on it. “Actually,” he mumbles, “That feels very nice.” You take the other end of the cloth and clean the soap off of him, then go to stand, but he holds you tightly.

“You have to let me get the rest of it!” You protest and he thinks about not letting you go, enjoying the warmth of your body on his thighs, but he releases you after a moment, and he watches you peruse the other bottles. You take your time with each step, and his hands drift lower, coming to rest on your hips, then your ass, by the time you’re gently working an oil-free sunscreen into his skin. “Okay,” you say, with as much cheer as you can muster, “You are free to go.” He takes you by the thighs and yanks you closer, so that your chest is flush against his.

“Yes, but you aren’t.” He says, standing, holding you by the thighs as he walks you back to the bed. You reach up and brush away the hair in his eyes.

“Your bedhead is wild.” he laughs, laying you down on the bed, looking, almost vulnerable for a moment.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, and you look so surprised for a moment he wonders if you understood.

“Ah, sure.” He laughs and climbs on top of you, carefully avoiding your wrist and ankle, but holding your free hand, pinning it to the mattress as he presses his lips to yours, and your struck immediately with how deftly and tenderly he kisses you. He moves his lips carefully, occasionally you feel the scrape of his teeth against your skin, immediately soothed by a swipe of his tongue. You grind your hips up against yours and he groans into your mouth.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” He mutters, “Someone’s coming to get me for a meeting in,” he glances at the clock, ten minutes.”

“Better make me cum before then,” you whisper, and he laughs loudly before shoving you roughly back on the bed.

“Who said,” he leans down and growls in your year, “That I give a shit about your pleasure,” you moan, almost involuntarily as he rips your pajama pants off you and parts your folds, “Lucky I’m even gonna prep you,” he buried his face in your neck, pulling more music out of your mouth, “Insubordinate,” you feel him bury two fingers inside you and curl them, you gasp at the odd mixture of pleasure and pain, “Fucking bitch.”

“Fuck,” you swear, as he starts pumping them inside you, “Daddy, please,”

“Daddy please,” he repeats, mocking you, “Think that’ll save you? Remembering what you call me is the bare goddamn minimum, kitten.” You’re warming up, slowly he can feel you start to drip around his fingers as he sinks his teeth into your neck.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, clinging to him, raking your nails down his back, the way his fingers are pressing against that one spot inside you, setting off fireworks on the back of your eyelids, your back arching off of the mattress. He leans back, conscious of the time, done prepping you, your ankles around his shoulders as he peels his boxers down and pumps his cock a few times, before pressing the tip of it to your folds, teasing you, despite the limited amount of time.

“Birth control?” He asks and you nod.

“Nuva ring.”

“We can fix that,” he says, with a manic glint in his eye as he shoves his entire length inside you, robbing you of the air in your lungs. He watches your face twist with pain, then melt to pleasure as he moves just a little inside you, a loud groan stuttering from his lips, “Oh my god,” he leans down again over you, “Oh my god, it feels,” he closes his eyes, “Fuck, can I move?” The squeezing of your walls around him, so wet, so warm, is making him dizzy, so when you nod, eyes squeezed shut, it feels like he’s been granted a goddesses blessing.

“Fuck,” he snarls, rolling his hips against yours, “Relax a little for me, alright, can, I can barely move in there,” you try your best, letting out soft whimper that drives even more blood below his waist.

“Daddy,” you warble, your beautiful eyes welling with tears as he fucks you, “Daddy, please,” He looks down at you, so beautiful, so helpless like this, the sunlight outside reflecting on the snow burning through the window, an illusion of warmth, of brightness in the window. He reaches down and palms your chest, rubbing then pinching your nipples, pulling a sharp keen from your lips as you struggle to form a sentence. “Please,” you get out again, all resistance forgotten, the early morning light making his eyes shine like embers, “Choke me, please, m’so close, wanna-” you're cut off by a huge hand curling around your throat, cutting off your air supply.

“You cum when I say so.” He orders, luxuriating in the feeling of being buried to the hilt in you, of having you writhe beneath him, so reactive to his touch.

“Ah,” you gasp, the tears in your eyes spilling over as the loud smack of his hips against your ass fills the quiet morning.

“M’gonna,” he grunts, “Gonna send to Bo with a pussy full of my cum, you want that?” You nod emphatically. “Beg for it.”

“Please,” your voice is small and hoarse, he tightens his grip, “Daddy, want, want your cum, please,” He reaches one hand down and rubs your clit while pounding into you and you can’t help it, your back practically arches off the mattress,

“Cum for me,” he orders, “Tell me who you belong to, and cum for me.” He takes another moment, committing this to memory, your blissed out face, teary cheeks, the sound of your voice when you say,

“You daddy, m yours please, please, please cum in me.” He groans loudly as you vault over the cliff of your orgasm muttering holy ecstasies in his ear, as he gets even harder inside you, before finishing with you, thrusts sporadic as he carries you through your high, before flopping, sweaty on the bed next to you, just as there’s a soft knock at the door.

“Ten minutes.” He calls, and then turns to you, desperate to observe you in one of the few moments he could be absolutely sure you weren’t playing him. You smile softly at him, and shudder as you feel the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Be a good girl for me,” He says, “No unnecessary risks before you come back to me.” You laugh lightly. “I’m serious, come back to me relatively unscathed and I’ll give you a reward.”

“Ooooh,” you coo, “A reward?” He nods. “And can I assume, if the inverse proves true, I’ll be in for a punishment?” He cackles like a hyena.

“You’ll be all healed up then, kitten, so don’t push me.” You sigh deeply.

“I can’t believe I have to trust you.” You stare at his ceiling. “You’ve given me nothing but good reasons to believe you’re well intentioned, and I have almost no other allies in the entire country, and I have to trust you, of all people, exactly the type of man I’d cross the street to avoid.” He rolls over to look at you.

“And what type is that?”

“You’re all together too confident.” You mutter, still staring at the ceiling. “Every part of this feels like a trap, except,” he watches you catch yourself.

“Except what?”

“I can’t say it to you.” You mumble. “It’s naive.”

“Do you think I’d think less of you,” He reaches over, and fixes your hair, “If you were a little naive?”

“I don’t know.” You swallow. “I don’t know why I care what you think.” You groan, rubbing your eyes with your good hand. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He sits up a little. “I can’t believe my father doomed me to this.” You sit up, and pull your pajamas back up, reaching for your bra. “He must have hated me after all.”

“I”m sorry.” He says quietly, and you sigh again.

“If you were really sorry, you’d drive me to the embassy and let me get on a flight home.”

“Oikawa would have you in whatever dungeon you’re so afraid of in minutes.” He springs up, getting dressed. “I’m sorry that I can’t do more for you, I am, genuinely, kitten.” You sigh again, wriggling into a comfortable t shirt and leggings that Lev had grabbed for you, “And,” he says, raising a long slender finger, “You aren’t running away anyway, until you find out who killed your father, isn’t that right?” Your mouth drops open. “I’m an excellent reader of people.” He says with a shrug.

“If we’d met under any other circumstances,” You collapse into a chair, adjusting the brace on your wrist. “We would not be friends, I’m telling you this now, for your own good.” He chuckles, glancing at the bed.

“You knock out a quickie with friends often?”

“Go to hell.” You feel your pulse quicken, expecting swift retribution, but he just laughs.

“I’ll do ya better when you’re mine for real, promise.” He stands in front of a mirror, tying his tie. “Akaashi and Bo will be here for you in about half an hour,” he opens a drawer, “Here is the cell phone, with our phone numbers.” You remember something.

“Is Lev coming with me?” You ask and Kuroo shakes his head.

“Someone from your next place will be there, from Date Tech, I’d have to hazard a guess at Aone, maybe? If they could spare him.” Kuroo shakes his head. “He’s giant, like Lev but ah, wider?” You shudder. “Oh he’s very polite, and if he isn’t, you just give daddy a ring and I’ll-”

“Absolutely not, you may not refer to yourself in third person as daddy.” You interject and he smirks.

“Isn’t it wonderful how you have absolutely no say in the matter?”

Kuroo leaves you in one of the front sitting rooms with Lev, and Kai catches him on his way back to his office.

“You’ve slept with her then?”

“Only mostly literally,” Kuroo shrugs. “I don’t know. She’s resisting trusting me, but I think she’s getting there.” He rubs his eyes. “I,” he pauses, “I’m feeling unusually conflicted about lying to her about things. I find myself, doing everything I can to avoid it, changing the subject, pretending I didn’t hear her. It’s, it’s strange, it feels involuntary in the moment.” Kai shakes his head.

“That is unusual for you.” He muses, warm brown eyes searching his friend's face. Kuroo rubs his eyes more.

“I’m going to miss her, when she’s gone.” He leans against the wall and Kai smirks. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

You’re laying on the couch in the main room about an hour later, with a suitcase of the things Kuroo bought you sitting next to you as men bustle in and out of the sitting room. You’re halfway through Oryx and Crake, propped up on some pillows, when Kuroo rushes in, clearing his throat. The room empties of people immediately.

“They’ll be here in a few.” He says, and you nod. “I'm serious, if you need anything, please, please text one of us.” He hands you the phone. You smile at him.

“I will.”

“And remember what I said, about a reward for returning to me unscathed.” There’s a honk in the driveway and Lev sticks his head into the drawing room.

“They’re here.” He says.

“I remember.” You say quickly and Kuroo stands as you all hear, Hey hey hey!

“Bo came?” Kuroo says, and Lev shrugs. You glance out the window, Bokuto and a man you don’t recognize are sitting in the front seat of a vintage luxury car as Akaashi gets out of the backset. “Shit sweetheart,” he says to you, helping you to your feet. “You oughta feel important.”

“Trust me,” you look out and catch Akaashi’s eyes, reading his genuinely relieved expression. “I do.”

𐑺 ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ 𝐈𝐅 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍’𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐌 (𝒲𝒪𝒰𝐿𝒟 𝒴𝒪𝒰 𝐻𝒜𝒱𝐸 𝑀𝐸?)

you have a good school life — a great boyfriend, a great group of friends, you like to think you’re well liked, your reputation isn’t too bad either. but all of that seems to change when you decide to befriend your lonely classmate.

pairing ෆ jock!yuuji + fem!reader + yandere nerd!yūta

summary. university au. non-curse au. fem reader. yandere yūta. you’re yuuji’s girlfriend. aged up characters. manipulation. obsession. bullying. violence. smut in some chapters. yandere themes. reader is really friendly + sweet. gaslighting. unrequited feelings. alcohol. justice for yuuji. rumours. college / university themes. gossip. angst. arguments. stalking. other jjk characters will be students / teachers. total wc, tba.

note. hi guys !!! i’ve really went straight from one series to the next but i feel like this is really my first creative series that stems away from canon completely into a new au :,) i hope you guys enjoy this as much as you did the last, i’m really looking forward to working on this one ෆ the first chapter will be out in a week or two since i’m getting ready to move into my apartment !

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: 𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 — 𝒯𝐻𝐸 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸 𝒴𝒪𝒰 𝒲𝒜𝒩𝒯

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 — 𝒯𝐵𝒜

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 — 𝒯𝐵𝒜

more tba!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀’𝐒

a little spot for more additional scenes from the au that may involve certain scenarios / different characters perspectives & extended scenes :)

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍

© gojoath. do not copy, repost, modify or translate my works. please refrain from copying my layouts / themes.

One of my all time favourite stories!!!

LITTLE DARK AGE

haitani ran x fem!reader x haitani rindou

summary: eight years later, you finally return to tokyo and find yourself caught in the middle of a violent gang war between the two most ruthless criminal organizations of tokyo’s underworld, forced to choose between blood and love.

genre: bonten timeskip, angst, forbidden romance, childhood friends -> strangers -> lovers, 18+ MDNI

warnings: fem!reader, gang violence, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, explicit smut, polyamory, profanity, MCD, unedited, MTBA

previous chapter -> masterlist -> next chapter

CHAPTER ⅩⅡ. WHATEVER I'VE DONE, I DID IT FOR LOVE

TWELVE YEARS EARLIER. 

It had been a very long time since you’d felt like this. You felt as if your stomach was eating itself as you sat alone in the penthouse, fingers shaking as you stared at the phone resting on the table in front of you, waiting for a call from your uncle, or Miss Sara, or Mister Mado, or one of your uncle’s colleagues, or anyone who would tell you what was going on. 

One week. Seven full days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. Too many minutes for you to try to calculate. 

It had been too long since the Kanto Incident--or so the news was calling the disastrous fight between the Tokyo Manji Gang and Tenjiku--considering you had yet to find anything out about what had happened that day. Your uncle was away on business and wasn’t picking up his phone, Miss Yua and Mister Ayato were taking some well deserved, and much needed, time off in Fiji and you didn’t want to bother either of them, you had tried to go to the police station to get information but nobody gave you answers, you had even tried going to Izanagi Headquarters to try to talk to some of your uncle’s colleagues but only one had spared you some time and even then, he had only given you a half-assed, ‘I’ll look into it,’ before rushing off to his next meeting. You couldn’t blame him--Izanagi was dealing with some heavy lawsuits from another tech company--it was shitty timing all around and it was making you sick to your stomach.

Three dead. Five arrested. 

You didn’t know who died. You didn’t know who was arrested. You couldn’t get answers no matter how hard you tried and it made you want to cry. You were fucking useless without your uncle’s support. 

Rindou and Ran hadn’t come home since the incident, neither had any of the rest of their friends--your friends. And you could only pray that they had been the ones arrested because you knew damn well that they would have come to you afterward if they had been able to. 

(Deep, deep down you knew that was impossible. Three dead, five arrested. There were six of them.)

The thought spinning around the back of your head froze the blood flowing through your body, fear clawed at your chest. Three dead, five arrested. Six of them. Anxiety built faster than you could push it away, your heartbeat raced erratically, your body shuddered as an unnatural chill ran up your spine. 

One of them is dead. 

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. 

No. That is not necessarily true. Maybe they just hadn’t had the chance to come talk to you yet.

It was a waiting game, and you were quite certain now that waiting games might be the worst possible games in existence. All you could do was wander around your penthouse trying to keep yourself distracted as you waited for news. You had only felt this helpless once before in your entire fucking life--the night of the accident when you were waiting for news about your family--and you hated it. Every passing second had your heart leaping to your throat, your knees weak, tears building in your eyes that you could only barely catch before they fell.

You were scared. You had lost your entire family in one blow once before and it had nearly destroyed you. You were terrified that it was about to happen again and you weren’t sure you’d be able to recover from it a second time.

You pressed your face into your palms, pulling your knees to your chest as you rocked yourself back and forth, trying to keep yourself calm. 

Everything would be okay, you tried to convince yourself. Everything would be okay. 

Ran and Rindou. Izana and Shion. Mochi and Mucho. They were fine--probably caught up in juvie again and without your uncle’s influence, it was just a little harder to figure out what was going on so you could try to get them out. That was all. 

That was all. 

Everything would be okay.

As soon as you got word of what detention center they were being held at, you would haul your ass to them and give them the scolding of a lifetime. All of them. Ran and Rindou. Izana and Shion. Mochi and Mucho. None of them would be able to get out of it.

Especially Izana. 

Fury stirred in you at the thought of your white-haired friend. You had warned him so many times--a countless amount of times--to not let his resentment get the best of him, to not let it make him lose sight of his goals. 

And he did. 

He fucking let it.

You wanted to scream and shake him, rattle his brain in his head and demand answers--what the fuck was so important to him that he let it risk his goals, your goals? Every time you tried to ask him what exactly the ‘detour’ was, he would withdraw like a damned turtle, give you the silent treatment and force you to drop it. 

You should have known that it would come to this. 

You supposed you blamed yourself as much as you did Izana. You should have pushed more. You should have asked more questions even if it did piss him off. Maybe things would have gone differently. 

You exhaled deeply, standing up to pace around the main room of the penthouse. The news station was playing in the background, muted and unintelligible to your ears. Your legs were unsteady but you forced yourself to keep moving. If you stopped, you would drown. 

You couldn’t let that happen, not yet. You needed answers. 

You needed to know they were okay. 

Your phone buzzed back at the kitchen counter. Your head snapped to the side, eyes wide.

At once, the fear began crawling back.

Your phone had not buzzed since before the Kanto Incident.

Your feet dragged against the ground as you made your way back to the kitchen--slower, less excited than you should have been at the prospect of possibly finally getting news. 

One of them is dead.

The thought rang around your head--screaming, whispering, you couldn’t push it away this time. 

One of them is dead.

They would have come to you if they had been able to. They would have come to tell you what happened. So five of them are jailed. One of them is dead.

Best case scenario.

Worst case scenario, three of them are jailed, three of them are dead.

Your stomach twisted and turned, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at whatever message had just come through. Three jailed, three dead. You couldn’t breathe, you forced yourself to walk away from the counter your phone was resting on, moving over to the sink to pour yourself a glass of water.

You downed the liquid immediately, nearly choking over it before slamming the glass back down. You braced your hands against the counter, leaning over it, breathing heavy as you tried to control yourself. 

Breathe in, breathe out. 

Everything would be okay. 

All you had to do was figure out where they were and get to them. 

You pushed yourself up, smoothing out your shirt and forcing your lips flat. 

First, you had to read the message. There was no reason to stress about anything else until you did.

Letting out one more heavy breath, you moved back over to the other counter, ignoring how your fingers trembled as you picked up your phone. Inhaling softly, you unlocked your phone, taking note of the unknown number who you figured must be Amon, one of your uncle’s colleagues who had promised to get back to you if he figured something out.

Your heart dropped once the message registered.

16:43 UNKNOWN: A Haitani Rindou was admitted to the Kawagoe Juvenile Prison infirmary in critical condition two days ago.

---

You had never moved so fast in your entire life. You were out the front door of the building in less than five minutes and you were grateful that your driver for the week had been in the area because he was already waiting for you underneath the awning outside of the building, car running and ready to go. 

You all but leapt into the passenger seat when you got to the car, telling him to drive as fast as he could. 

It was an hour’s drive to Kawagoe Juvenile Prison without traffic. And it was a Friday night, on the verge of rush hour. Every second you spent in that car you swore was taking time off from the end of your life. It was frustrating, anxiety-inducing. 

‘It would be faster running there,’ you tried to tell Mister Mado but he only clicked his tongue at you and told you that if you stepped out of the car in the middle of rush hour traffic, he would drag you right back into the car and drive you back to the penthouse. And you did not doubt his capability--Mister Mado was ex-special forces, like Mister Ayato. They had trained together, and Mister Ayato was the one that introduced Mister Mado to your uncle a few years back.

If you had tried to make a break for it, he would have caught up to you easily. And then you wouldn’t be able to see Rindou, or Ran, or any of the others at all. 

Assuming they were all there. 

Critical condition, the words rang through your head as Mister Mado pulled into the juvenile prison. Critical condition, two days ago.

Three dead, five arrested. Rindou, Ran, Izana. Shion, Mochi, Mucho. 

Six. 

Schrodinger’s cat. You would not know who was dead or alive until you entered that building, thus, until you enter it, the six of them, in a sense, are both dead and alive. 

Once you entered that building… at least one of them would be dead and nothing would ever be the same after.

Your nails dug into the cloth of your slacks, trying to calm yourself down as Mister Mado talked to the man at the front gate. You couldn’t pay attention to what he was saying, too focused on the large building ahead of you. 

Three dead, five arrested. 

Please be okay. 

You rested your head on the cool window, letting your eyes slide shut.

It was too hot for a February day. Muggy. Suffocating. Ugly. 

You hated the humidity nearly as much as you hated the rain. You could feel the heavy air weighing down on you through the rolled-down window Mister Mado was leaning out of to talk to the man at the front gate. You swore you felt like you were going to pass out.

It took an outrageous amount of time for the guard to let the two of you through the gates. Or well, you were being dramatic--it only took about five minutes, but those five minutes felt like five hours. Every moment you were separated from them was hellish, every moment of uncertainty, every time you questioned whether or not all of your worst fears might come true.

You just wanted to be with them again, your throat was tight at the admission--you wanted to be hanging out in their room annoying Ran with Rindou, you wanted to force Ran to sit down so you could brush his hair, you wanted to fight with Rindou over what movie you two were going to watch, you wanted to complain that the two of them were being too clingy when Rindou draped himself on top of you and Ran was forcing his head on your lap when he came back into the main room of the penthouse--having woken up to you shrieking at a jumpscare--dragging one of the soft blankets that Miss Yua had given him for his birthday behind him as he joined the two of you for the last half of the movie you were watching,

You felt your eyes well with tears, you forced them away.

Now was not the time. 

Finally, the car was moving again and your heart was stuttering in your chest as Mister Mado pulled up to the front of the detention center.

“The guards will guide you to the infirmary,” Mister Mado told you, “stay with them. I’ll meet you there.”

You nodded once, slipping out of the car and into the humidity. The heels of your boots clicked against the dark gray pavement as you approached the building, keeping your chin up and your gaze forward. 

One of the guards pressed his access card against the scanner, a loud ring and the front doors swung open. They waited for you to move inside. 

You hesitated. 

Schrodinger’s cat. As long as you did not enter the building, all six were both dead and alive. A state of unknown that might just be better than whatever reality you would face walking into that building. 

“An alarm will go off if you don’t go in,” one of the guards said, voice brusque. You bristled in annoyance, shooting him a sharp look before letting out a sigh of defeat, stepping into the building. 

Two guards were waiting for you in the long hallway, the doors shut behind you with an ominous bang. 

“Come, l/n-san,” one of them said, “We’ll take you to the infirmary.”

You nodded, following after them silently. You had half a mind to ask who all was arrested--their names were on the tip of your tongue. Haitani Ran. Kurokawa Izana. Madarame Shion. Muto Yasuhiro. Mochizuki Kanji. You swallowed their names, continuing down the long, dreary hall of the juvenile prison. 

You knew Rindou was alive at least, and the thought put you at ease, if only momentarily. 

Alive but his last known condition was critical.

You felt sick. 

Right, left, left, right. 

You bit down on your bottom lip. The prison was cool and damp compared to the humidity from outside but it was just as suffocating. A part of you wanted to run before you learned the truth. 

Three dead, five arrested. Six of them. 

You were scared. It was a sort of low, creeping fear that was eating at your mind and soul. One that was building and building and had been building since the news first came out about the casualties of the Kanto Incident. It was becoming too much for your body and mind to handle.

You were going to break.

“Here,” the guard said firmly, stopping in front of a grey door, “We’ll wait outside unless you call for us.”

You couldn’t break. Not yet. 

Hold yourself together. Now is not the time.

Chin up, back straight. Push all of your emotions to the back of your head. You can only fall apart in the privacy of your own home. Your uncle’s words rang on repeat through your head.

You took in a deep breath, you straightened your back, you raised your chin.

“Thank you,” you said. Your voice was steadier than you expected as you stepped forward, pushing open the door.

You entered the room, heart tight in your chest. It was a shitty little infirmary--not equipped to handle any serious wounds. You felt anxious as your gaze drifted around before it tunneled to a figure laying on one of the beds on the opposite side of the room.

“Rindou,” you breathed out, rushing forward toward him. And you nearly broke there and then—eyes blurry with tears when you noticed how badly his face was bruised up and the way his arm was in a sling. You stood at his bedside, half kneeling on the bed next to him. You brought your hands to his face, cupping his cheeks gently and your fingers trembled against his skin as he peeked up at you through swollen eyes, split lips pulling up into a small smile, “What happened?”

“Got the shit kicked out of me,” his voice was rough, scratchy, and he winced as if his throat hurt when he spoke, “Real bad.”

“No shit,” you laughed, but your voice cracked as the tears spilled over your cheeks. Your uncle would be disappointed if he found out. You couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

You shifted the thin sheets off of him, one hand leaving his face to trace gently down his chest and abdomen across all of the deep purple bruises marring his skin all the way down to beneath the waistband of his pants. 

You pulled away when his abdomen spasmed beneath your touch, sliding the sheets back over him as he shivered. You looked back up at him as he leaned his face into your touch, bringing your other hand up to brush a lock of blonde hair from his face.

“Who did this?” you asked quietly.

Rindou shook his head, “Doesn’t matter,” he murmured, “How’d you get in here anyway? They said they don’t allow visitors.”

You scoffed lightly but there was no heat behind it as you gazed down at Rindou, biting down on the inside of your cheek as you took in just how hurt he was, “Do you even know who I am?” you said light-heartedly, fingers ghosting along his cheekbone, “I can do whatever I want.”

“Ah yes, I forgot, Miss My-Uncle-Owns-Half-Of-Japan,” Rindou teased, but there was an odd tone in his voice, one that you couldn’t quite place and it had you on edge because you could always, usually pretty easily, tell what Rindou was feeling. “Why’d it take you so long anyway? Figure you’d be here as soon as news got out about what happened in Yokohama.”

Your small smile faltered at the reminder of your own lack of capability, your inability to get anything done without your uncle’s help. How the fuck were you supposed to start up your own business, much less make it successful, when you can’t even do basic shit on your own? When you can’t even find out if your friends are dead or alive without going to a dozen and a half people for help. 

Well, you supposed you wouldn’t be alone, you remembered. You and Izana had planned it all out over the few months you spent in the music room together. He would be at your side, and you were quite certain that you and Kurokawa Izana would be an unstoppable force once you got the momentum going. 

You didn’t have to answer his question. Instead, a new familiar voice spoke up, “What am I? Chopped liver?” a petulant voice asked and you all but leapt off of the bed, eyes wide and desperate as your gaze swiveled around the room, eyes falling upon Ran lounging back on a nearby bed, studying you carefully.

“Ran,” you gasped, leaping off Rindou’s bed and toward Ran. 

Ran spread open his arms for you and you buried yourself right into them. He huffed in amusement as he wrapped his arms snug around you and you couldn’t help the way your eyes fluttered shut, you couldn’t help the warm feeling that swam throughout you at the feeling of his arms holding you tight. 

“You’re okay,” your voice was choked as you pulled back, hands going right to cup his face just as you had to Rindou, eyes tracing over his skin, and then down his body. He wasn’t as fucked up as Rindou, but he was clearly bruised and battered.

“Okay is a relative term,” Ran murmured in response.

“Wh-what happened to you guys?” you demanded, going to look back at Rindou but your gaze caught on the other three in the room: Shion, Mochi and Mucho, all of whom had also been beaten albeit none as badly as Rindou. Your voice rose in anger, “How the hell did Izana let this happen? Wher-”

Three dead, five arrested.

The anger washed away, your hands trembled. You pushed yourself off of Ran’s bed, looking around one last time--maybe you had missed him.

Your voice was little over a hushed whisper as you finished your question, “Where is he? Where-where is Izana?”

Neither Rindou nor Ran would meet your eyes. Mucho’s lips were pressed together tight. Mochi stared ahead at the barred window of the infirmary blankly. Not even Shion opened his mouth to answer you.

“Where is Izana?” your voice was louder, more frantic, “Hey! One of you fucking answer me, where is he?” 

No response.

You looked between Rindou and Ran, desperately trying to get one of them to look at you, “Answer me,” you were begging, you never fucking begged. “Answer me, please, one of you answer me. Where is he? If this is some sick joke-”

“Izana’s dead.”

It was Shion that spoke. His voice was more serious than you had ever heard before. You turned your head to look at him over your shoulder, eyes wide. His face was cold, stony--any and all hints of the wide, wild smile you were used to was gone as he watched you.

He was lying.

“You’re lying,” you accused, shaking your head, “Izana can’t die, he’s Izana. Where is he? This isn’t funny, Shion.”

But even as you spoke the words you knew, you knew deep, deep down that what Shion was saying was true. He was an asshole, but not even he would go this far--not with his friends.

“He’s dead, y/n,” Ran said. Your eyes were wide, glassy as you looked back at Ran, searching his face for any hint of a lie. “He took three bullets to the chest during the fight.”

There was none.

“No,” you said, “No, no no no, what do you mean bullets? It was a fist fight, you guys do fist fights, why the fuck was there a gun? What do you mean bullets, Ran? Who brought the gun? Who shot him? Ran, tell me who the fuck shot him, I’ll have them ki-“

Your world was spinning and tunneling all at once, you weren’t even sure how you were still standing up straight. Your head felt light, you were dizzy. 

“What are you trying to name it after?”

“Huh? Name what?”

“You said you’re trying to break off from your uncle. You’re gonna need a new company name, what’re you trying to name it for?”

“…”

“… you don’t know, do you?”

“… I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

“… whatever, I’m done practicing today anyway. Come here, let’s think something up.”

“You can’t kill him,” Rindou shook his head, “You can’t-”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want,” your voice was shrill, loud. “Don’t you fucking forget that, Rindou. Tell me who had the fucking gun.”

“Well I can’t do Japanese mythology, ‘cause that’s what Uncle Ichirou’s is… um…”

“Roman?”

“Hmm okay, I don’t know much about Roman mythology.”

“I actually have an idea, hold on.”

“Kisaki Tetta.”

“Shion!” Ran roared, “shut the fuck up.”

Shion stared right at you, “His name was Kisaki Tetta. The one who killed Izana.”

“Guys, I had the best idea for the name of my company when I get it started.”

You wanted to throw up. You pressed your hand to your mouth, turning around to face the wall so none of the others could see you.

Control yourself. Do not break down here. Breathe in, breathe out.

“Who had the best idea?”

“I-okay well, I guess it was Izana’s idea. But we’re pretty much the same brain at this point so it’s technically my idea too.”

“Excuse me, we’re what?”

You could feel nausea build in your stomach. You shut your eyes and the world around you shifted. You were back in the car with your family, reaching out for your sister, yelling for her to get up, that you guys had to get out of the car before it exploded. You could smell the smoke and the blood and the gasoline, you could feel the heat burning your eyes, you could hear your mother gasping for air as she breathed her last.

You couldn’t breathe. Izana, he-

“Anyway, get this! Janus! After the Roman god. He’s the god of beginnings and endings, and transitions, doorways, gateways, do you get it?! A new era for technology, and a shift away from my uncle, a new era for all of us, really. Once we get it started, everything will be easy after that.”

You wouldn’t be able to do it without him. You knew it. You fucking knew it. How were you supposed to? How were you supposed to build something alone that you had promised to do with him? Something that he named, something that he helped you plan, something you were supposed to do together. Your new era. Together.

“Stay away from that family, death follows them.”

How many times had you denied it? Spat those accusations in the face and then cried in Rindou’s arms at home because they spoke of deals with the devil and curses of death that weren’t true and you couldn’t make any friends because of it.

Maybe they were right, a part of you whispered. Izana had been fine and then months after befriending you he gets shot at a fist fight, what the fuck are the chances of that? They had so many big fights over the years but the first major one since you befriended him ended in his death?

Who was next?

Shion? Mochi? Mucho?

Rindou or Ran?

Your chest heaved, you pushed away the nausea.

Not here. Not here. Not here.

Not in front of them. Control yourself.

The door to the infirmary creaked open. You stiffened.

“Huh? What’s this?” an unfamiliar voice. Male. Deep. Accented. “What’s a girl doing in here? Smuggling whores in, Haitani?”

His voice was low, teasing, but there was an underlying edge that had your hair standing on end. Ran shifted in the bed next to where you were standing but before he could open his mouth to say something you were looking over your shoulder back at the room. 

They were tense. Uncomfortable. All of them. At once, a deep-set hatred swept throughout you. Whoever this was, he was not a friend.

“Who the fuck are you?” your voice was also low, but it did not have the same teasing edge as his did. Next to you, Ran inhaled sharply, a look of warning thrown in your direction.

The new guy was large—obscenely large, really, larger than Mochi and Mucho and they were the tallest guys you ever met. There was a tattoo curling down his neck to his chest, top unbuttoned, and you couldn’t help but notice the scars that riddled his chest.

“He took three bullets to the chest during the fight.” 

Resentment flooded through you too fast to control it. Your gaze drew up to meet a strange golden one that made your skin crawl.

“Watch yourself, girl,” the amusement in his voice was also gone, your eyes narrowed. 

The resentment shifted into a steadily growing anger. 

“Take your own advice,” your words were milder than the ones sitting on the edge of your tongue, ready to burst. “I asked you a question.”

Your name left Ran’s lips, a warning. He was telling you not to fuck around with this guy. One glance at Ran and the rest of them told you all you needed to know—his eyes were wary, hesitant, he looked torn between standing in front of Rindou, who was immobile on his infirmary bed, and dragging you behind him. Mucho was on his feet, standing to the side between you and the new guy, ready to jump in, Shion and Mochi were still sitting on their own beds, significantly more tense than before.

This was the one that beat the shit out of them.

Your gaze drew sharply from them, onto the two guards who had walked you here, now standing stiff at the doorway due to the new arrival, ready to intervene.

“Leave,” you said. Their eyes snapped to you,

protest visible in them.

“L/n-san,” one hesitated, looking at you.

“Now,” you interrupted before he could continue and you watched as the two of them shared a look before stepping out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind them.

“Sending away your only means of protection wasn’t a smart move, girl,” his voice was low and derogatory, the amusement was back again. That deep-set hatred began to boil again as your gaze fell back on the scars on his chest—proof of his survival against something that had killed Izana. “These fuckers can’t protect you. They hadn’t even been able to protect themselves.”

Your hands shook with anger from where they were stuffed in your pockets. If Izana was here-

You wanted to cry. Izana was not here. He was dead, and you felt like it was your fault. Cursed. You were fucking cursed.

Now is not the time. Control yourself.

If Izana was here, he would put this asshole in his place without sparing a second. You could practically picture it and-

-and if Izana wasn’t here to do it, you had to. For Ran and Rindou, for Shion and Mucho and Mochi, for Izana, who you knew would be furious if he knew some ogre was beating and bullying them.

Izana was gone, you couldn’t shake the words from you. Dead. Three bullets to the chest during the fight. You were on your own now—well, you supposed you weren’t on your own. You had Ran and Rindou and Shion and Mucho and Mochi, but they were not Izana. 

Izana understood you in a way that they did not. And that’s not to say that Ran and Rindou didn’t understand you—they did. But it was different. You knew they struggled to see you as someone independent, as someone they didn’t need to protect all the time. You loved them. You did. But Izana had always recognized your potential whereas they did not.

“I think you underestimate yourself too much, and I think when push comes to shove, you’ll do what needs to be done.”

Maybe he was right, you considered as words twisted through your head—bullets ready to fire at the asshole standing in front of you. But things were different now that he was gone. Izana’s presence had been a reassurance. A reassurance that if you split from your uncle, you would still have someone there watching your back—someone who understood, someone who wouldn’t coddle you or try to hold you back.

But Izana was gone. He was dead. And now you were drifting alone, drowning in the open sea and the only buoy you could cling to was your uncle until you could learn to float yourself.

You could stand on your own—you knew you could. Izana had faith that you could, and you had faith in yourself. But not yet, you knew you weren’t ready yet, and you knew that things would only get more dangerous as time passed. More threats to you, to them—threats that you wouldn’t be able to eliminate on your own. Not yet.

Your family name was like a bulletproof shield that surrounded the pedestal the world held you on. You hated using it, it always left a sour taste in your mouth but…

“When push comes to shove, you’ll do what needs to be done.”

If it was to protect them, you would use it. You would use your family name, you would use your uncle, you would do anything.

This was only the first test.

Chin up, back straight. Push all of your emotions to the back of your head. You can only fall apart in the privacy of your own home. 

“You’re foreign, so I suppose I can’t blame you for not understanding how things are run in Tokyo,” you said. His gaze darkened, you raised your chin, straightened your back. Your uncle's words swam throughout your head yet again. You did not know all of what your uncle was involved with, but you knew enough to realize this brute had no right trying to threaten you. And perhaps you were about to speak out of your ass considering you were crying about not being able to get anything done, not even a half hour ago, but nobody needed to know that. 

“I run Tokyo. Or well, I suppose my uncle does right now. But I will sooner or later. My family has this city in our pocket. Someone like you should already know just the way this world works,” your gaze drifted down to the bullet scars decorating his chest, the tattoo that you were sure had some sort of gang significance, “and you should know to avoid the larger fish of the sea.”

He scoffed, loudly, and he took a step forward, you did not move. “You tryna say you’re a larger fish?” he sounded amused, you were not.

You smiled thinly, “The largest someone of your standing will ever have had the misfortune of stumbling upon,” you said coolly, gaze flickering down to the name etched on his uniform. “Brutality and aggression get you nowhere in this world. Money is what makes the world go round, Terano, and our wallets are all but endless. You don’t want to make an enemy of me.”

“Or what?” 

Your eyes trailed back down to the scars marring his chest before flashing back up to his eyes.

“I don’t think you need me to answer that question,” any amusement that might have been apparent on Terano’s face was gone in an instant.

He stepped forward and at once there was a cock of a gun. Ran, Shion and Rindou flinched, Mucho and Mochi tensed. Your eyes flickered behind Terano to where Mister Mado was holding a pistol up.

A bullet to the chest might not kill him but Mister Mado always aimed for the head, and he never missed.

Terano’s brows knit together, his lips pressed tight. He glared so hard that you swore you’d be a boiling puddle of flesh and blood and bone if he had the power. His eyes flashed with something dark, angry, a sort of blinding rage and bloodlust that sent a chill running down your spine.

He was not a man that liked to be backed into a corner.

The adrenaline was fading, you could feel the nerves reappearing. You had to leave before you broke.

“I’ll be back to visit next week,” you didn’t look back at Ran or Rindou as you started walking away. They called after you but you ignored them. You were running out of time; you only had a few moments before reality smacked you once again.

You stopped as you passed Terano, tilting your head up to look at him, shoulder brushing his arm. Pupils constricted, gold stared down at you furiously. All it would take was one movement, one snap of his arm up and he would have your neck in his grasp, snapping it in one swift motion.

“If you touch them again, you won’t leave this center alive,” you said before turning your gaze back forward brushing past him and out of the door, ignoring the calls of your name.

As soon as the doors shut behind you, you pulled your hands from your pockets, revealing just how shaky they had become during the confrontation. You took deep breaths, trying to keep yourself calm.

“I’ll have the cameras wiped and we’ll pay off the guards to keep an eye around here,” Mister Mado said, squeezing your shoulder gently. “You handled this well. Your uncle will be proud.”

Your chest sunk. His words rang bitter in your ears.

This was what you wanted, wasn’t it?

—-

PRESENT.

You were sure that this was all you had ever wanted in life. 

Thin rays of sun slipped past the blinds, beating against your eyelids, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not with Ran’s arm wrapped snug around your waist, his face buried in the nape of your neck. Warm, soft puffs of air fanned against your skin, short purple and black hair tickled your shoulders. 

You could feel Rindou laying somewhere in front of you, one hand curled around your wrist, as if he was trying to stop you from trying to flee when you woke up. You had always been the one to wake up first of the three of you. Your chest tightened at the thought, his grip was tight, holding your hand close to him.

Rin…

You let out a shaky breath, letting your eyes peek open. The sun burned, but only for a second as your gaze focused on Rindou’s sleepy expression, inches from your face. His lashes brushed his cheek and his pink lips were parted as he took in slow, even breaths.

You swallowed thickly, eyes tearing up as you realized just how at peace you felt at that moment. You felt safe, genuinely and truly safe, for the first time in years, even if you did know deep down you were in more danger than ever. 

Rindou let out a quiet hum in his sleep, grip tightening on your hand, and you inhaled sofly, bringing your free hand up to his face, cupping his cheek gently, scared of waking him up. Your fingers brushed his cheekbone and your breath caught as his eyes fluttered open, purple eyes lost and confused for a moment before his eyes trained on you.

His face was unreadable, if only for a moment, and then his lips lifted into a small smile, “Creep,” he accused, but even as the word left his lips, his eyes slid back shut and he leaned his face into your touch.

“Shut up,” you murmured, no heat behind your words as you let out another uneven puff of air. “I just-”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say your thoughts out loud. I just wanted to make sure you were real, I wanted to make sure this wasn’t some sort of sick trick. 

But you didn’t have to say it out loud. Rindou’s grip on your hand tightened in response to your words, his way of saying that he had been fearing the same, and his grip on your hand was his way of keeping ahold of reality. Ran’s grip on your waist shifted, nuzzling in closer to you as he let out a low groan in his sleep. 

Rindou’s eye’s flickered behind you, a strange expression crossing over his face. Your brows furrowed, asking him a silent question, and Rindou only shrugged, eyes sliding shut again.

“He hasn’t slept well in a long time,” he murmured, “Not without sleeping pills, at least.”

“Oh,” you said quietly, guilt stirring in you once again. You wondered if you leaving had anything to do with that, or if it was just something that had come with years in his line of… work. 

You grimaced at the reminder. You knew what they were a part of—you had known since that morning at Izanagi Headquarters—but it was different hearing it directly from them. They didn’t spare you any details, and you weren’t sure if you were grateful for it or not.

Bonten. The rival gang that has been trying and failing to back Sugawara into a corner. They knew just as much about Sugawara’s group as his knew about Bonten up until recently. Both groups were slippery, good at keeping to the shadows, careful and calculating. 

But Bonten couldn’t keep up. And you supposed it was nobody’s fault but your own. Your return to Tokyo had been the turning point in the cold war between the two gangs. Your money, your technology, your relationship with the Haitanis.

You shut your eyes, guilt pooling in every pore in your body, weighing you down heavy. 

Bonten was on its last legs. Sanzu Haruchiyo and Kakucho were frantically trying to get their shipments out of their warehouses before the police raided them. Kokonoi Hajime’s businesses had all but burned to the ground. Akashi Takeomi was trying to get in talks with smaller gangs but nobody wanted to step into a raging fire for a gang that would’ve looked away had they been in the same position.

And Rindou and Ran were here. With you. A part of you wondered if there would be backlash for it, but you doubted that Bonten could spare the resources anyway. And you were certain they couldn’t afford to drive away two of its executives when it was already falling apart.

Your fingers trembled.

You should have stayed away, back in Europe, or the Americas, anywhere but here. All you did was bring death and misfortune with you wherever you went.

You were certain that the kids from all those years ago were right. You were cursed.

A palm pressed softly against your cheek and your eyes fluttered back open, meeting Rindou’s.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked quietly, and you let out a breath.

“Nothing,” you said quietly. His brows furrowed in annoyance, you sighed louder. “Really, nothing, I was thinking about Izana,” you lied, “or well, just that day at the detention center.” 

Rindou’s lips pressed together tight at the reminder of Izana before he shook his head, snorting, “South. I cannot believe you and him work together now. I swore he was going to kill you that day. Even when we were with him in Rokuhara Tandai after, I don’t think I ever saw him so angry before. You made it look so easy.”

You smiled, shaking your head, “I was terrified,” you admitted, “and I was pretty much talking out of my ass. I was literally crying on the way to the detention center because I couldn’t do anything without Uncle Ichirou’s help.”

Your eyes fluttered shut again as Rindou’s fingers danced along your cheek, “Couldn’t tell,” he murmured, “You were…”

His voice fell off and a strange, uncomfortable feeling swept over you as you waited for him to finish the sentence. 

You were what? 

“I was what?” you finally asked when Rindou never continued.

He blinked, as if he himself hadn’t realized he never finished his sentence, before a strange look crossed over his face, “I don’t know,” he said quietly, “Looking back on it, that was really the day it all changed, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you responded. You couldn’t meet his eyes, his hand drew back from your face and an unwelcome, longing feeling swept over you. “Yeah, it was.”

Rindou grimaced, and you could see all the thoughts running through his head. 

I should have realized, I should have done more, things would be different if I had noticed, I should have, I should have, I should have-

You squeezed his hand gently, “There wasn’t anything that could’ve been done,” you told him softly, but he shook his head, pulling his hand from yours and rising off the bed.

Your hand felt cold. Your lips parted to call after him. He wouldn’t look at you. 

“I’m gonna go see what Miss Yua is making for breakfast,” he said, not waiting for a response before he turned on his heel and left the room, letting the door shut loudly after him.

An excuse, of course, Miss Yua always made eggs in the morning. Mister Ayato was the one that did fancy breakfasts for the three of you and he was all but bedridden.

As soon as the door shut, the arm around your waist tightened. You let out a soft noise as you squirmed beneath Ran’s arm, turning your head to look at him, eyes meeting violet ones that peered at you from over your shoulder.

“How long have you been awake?” you asked, trying to shift away, but even wounded, Ran was still stronger than you.

“Long enough to hear you talk to Rindou. What were you really thinking about?” Ran questioned, voice low and sleepy, “I know you were lying.”

“Ran-“

“Don’t play games with me, I’m not in the mood,” Ran muttered, finally letting go of you so you could turn around to face him.

You could barely meet his gaze, eyes darting around to look everywhere but at him until his hand came up to hold your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“Do you-“ you let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes. How fucking embarrassing. Were you really going to admit to this? “Do you remember what those kids used to say about me and my family? When we were younger?”

Ran’s brows furrowed as he nodded, unsure of where you were going with this, and you could feel the tears pool in your eyes behind your eyelids.

“Do you ever wonder if it’s true?” you finally asked and you hated how your voice shook, and you hated even more as Ran let go of you.

“What?” he asked, tone inlaid with such disbelief that it had your face heating up in embarrassment, “What are you talking about? Why would-?”

“My whole family died, Ran,” you interrupted him, “in a freak accident on the way to one of my

ballet recitals. And then as soon as I befriend your friends, two of them die too. I go to Europe and thousands of people are killed in the explosion. And now I come back to Tokyo, and everything goes to shit in a matter of two weeks. Everywhere I go, tragedy follows. And I’m scared, I’m scared every day that you and Rin will be next.”

You expected a multitude of reactions from Ran. You expected him to get angry, annoyed; you expected him to blow you off and call you dumb; you expected a roll of the eyes and a ‘quit it with the paranoia.’

You did not expect him to laugh.

Your eyes flew open, glaring at him. Amused purple eyes watched you fondly. Your glare lessened when you felt his hand rest on your bicep, thumb rubbing soft circles on your skin.

“Rindou and I have been around you for what? Seventeen years? We were together for nine before you went off to school? Don’t you think that if we were cursed, we would’ve been struck down by now?” Ran teased, “Is that really what’s got you so wound up?”

You looked away, he brought his hand up to cup the side of your neck and your eyes instinctively drew back to him. The amusement was gone and instead replaced by worry.

“Is that really what’s bothering you?” Ran’s voice was quiet, more serious. You grit your teeth to try to stop the tears.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. You told yourself it over and over again but it wasn’t working this time.

“You don’t-you don’t understand,” you shook your head, which was a mistake considering the movement made the tears start to fall. “You don’t understand waking up every day and being terrified that you’re going to get the people you love killed-I-Ran, it’s so-“

Your vision was blurred but you could still catch the look on Ran’s face—the questioning and then the understanding and then the anger.

He spoke your name and you nearly flinched, “Was this the reason for the rush? When you left? You told us two days before, y/n, you didn’t even give us any time to process it before you were gone.”

He was trying to stay calm, you could hear it in his voice, but you could see the fury boiling behind his eyes. Your shoulders shook, you took in a wet breath. You opened your mouth to deny it. Deny, deny, deny but instead-

“I’m sorry,” your voice broke as a sob wracked your form, your hands flew to cover your face and you tried to move away. “I was scared.”

The excuses and apologies flew from your lips like bullets, but even as you cried and asked him to forgive you, you felt as if the last of the weight bearing down on you had been lifted.

Even if he hated you, at least you had nothing left to hide from them.

Ran let out a heavy, shaky breath, his hand wrapped tight around your bicep again, pulling you in close. You buried your face in his chest, melting into the warmth of his body, wrapping an arm around his waist as he held you.

“Rindou was right, you really are somehow the stupidest and smartest person we’ve ever met,” he muttered. “You are so fucking infuriating. So fucking infuriating.”

You ignored the insult, instead letting your eyes slide shut as Ran pressed his lips to the top of your head. And for a moment, the two of you just laid there--you bundled in his arms, trying to calm your breathing and dry your tears, and him clutching you tight, blunt nails digging a bit too hard into your skin but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you laid there curled up into each other but you were sure that you would have stayed there forever if given the chance.

“Breakfast is ready.” 

You jumped at the sound of Rindou’s voice, pulling away from Ran to sit up and look at him. There was an odd expression on his face as he eyed the two of you but you only let out a breath as you pushed yourself off the bed, straightening out the button-up you had slipped into last night after the three of you were two bottles in.

Rindou’s, you recognized now that you weren’t drunk out of your mind--you could smell his cologne heavy on the collar of the button-up, a woodier scent than the one that Ran wore. 

“Eggs?” you questioned, raising your eyebrows. Rindou tore his gaze from where he was staring at the bed you had just been in with Ran.

“Yeah,” he said after a moment, “eggs.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging his shoulder, “Coulda told you that,” you said.

“Miss Yua always makes eggs,” Ran agreed as he stood up, a grimace crossing his face, his hand flying to his abdomen.

You and Rindou both took a step toward him but he waved you off, irritation flashing through his eyes, “I’m fine,” he snapped. You sighed, sharing a look with Rindou as Ran made his way toward you, breath shaky and knees wobbly. He was barely walking straight, the bruises marring his skin were dark and ugly against his pale skin, blending in with the tattoos on the left side of his body.

You shook your head, moving toward him, you took a spot on the right side of his body and Rindou moved to the left, helping steady him.

“I don’t fuckin’ need your help,” Ran, ever the difficult one, tried to push both of you away but you only tightened your grip on him.

“Relax, Ran,” you said quietly, “Let’s just get to the kitchen.” 

“I can walk myself,” Ran muttered, unamused, but he didn’t fight as he leaned into the two of you, letting you guys guide him to the kitchen.

Miss Yua was there waiting for the three of you, graying hair pulled up into a bun, lips flat as she scowled at the three of you. You could almost pretend that you guys were teenagers again, about to get a loud and unending scolding after the three of you had stolen Mister Ayato’s alcohol and blacked out, missing breakfast and lunch and stressing Mister Ayato out intensely when you didn’t meet him at the school like you were supposed to.

“Good morning, Miss Yua,” you murmured, Ran echoing your words. 

The woman raised her nose, sliding three plates of eggs and toast toward you guys. You picked up your fork immediately, going to shovel a forkful of food into your mouth. You paused when you caught all three of them staring at you.

“What?” you asked, disgruntled, “I’m hungry.”

Rindou snorted, looking down at his own food, and the irritated look on Ran’s face disappeared momentarily as he smiled down at the plate in front of him. 

“You, boy,” Miss Yua pointed a kitchen knife at Ran, Ran froze mid-bite of food, finishing chewing slowly and swallowing as he watched her, “Do not overexert yourself, I’m not going to do checkups on you every few hours. Your body is weak--” Ran flinched “--and it will become weaker if you push yourself. Take it easy.”

Ran let out a noise of agreement but from the look on his face you knew damn well he had no intention of taking it easy, and from the way Miss Yua rolled her eyes, she knew that too. Miss Yua let out a heavy sigh as she smoothed out her clothes, making her way back in the direction of where her room and Mister Ayato’s were located.

Before she left, she paused to look back at the three of you, there was a strange, longing look in her eyes as her gaze traced over the three of you, lips tugged up gently. Her lips parted as if to say something but instead she only shook her head, turning away, “It’s nice to see the three of you home together,” she murmured before making her way back down the hall.

With Miss Yua gone, a heavy silence overtook the kitchen. You chewed your food slowly, swallowing and placing your fork down.

“We should probably get out of here,” the words felt bitter. You wanted to stay, pretend that you had never left Tokyo and the three of you were lounging around the penthouse like old times.  

But you couldn’t. The longer you stayed here, the more danger you would put Miss Yua and Mister Ayato.

That wasn’t an option.

“Yeah,” Rindou said quietly, and you could see on his face that he probably felt just as reluctant as you did. “Let me go get changed,” his gaze darted over to you and Ran, “you two should get dressed too.”

You let out a breath, rising to your feet after finishing the last of your eggs, moving your plate to the sink, grabbing Ran and Rindou’s, placing them with yours. You swallowed thickly as you stood at the sink, hands braced against the counter as you shut your eyes.

Breathe in, breathe out. 

You had to get away from the penthouse--it’ll be the first place that Sugawara looks. But leaving the penthouse meant facing reality again and you didn’t know if you were ready for it. Facing reality meant facing danger, and facing danger meant that Ran and Rindou would be at risk again. 

You felt a palm press against your lower back, and you turned your head to the side, eyes falling upon Rindou, who watched you with furrowed brows and a concerned frown. You shook your head, giving him a small smile, “I’ll go get changed,” you said quietly, stepping away from the sink.

And you didn’t give him a chance to respond as you started your way back down the hall, a sinking feeling in your chest and a heavy weight returning to your shoulders.

---

The hardest part was saying goodbye to Miss Yua and Mister Ayato again.

You sighed as you leaned against the wall of the elevator, tilting your head back to look up at the mirrors lined in the ceiling. You could see Rindou and Ran standing against opposite walls, Ran typing furiously on his phone while Rindou stared ahead at him, fingers toying with his rings. He looked just as upset as you felt. 

“Where are we gonna go?” you asked after a few moments. Rindou’s head lolled to the side as he looked over at you, raising his eyebrows, “... well we aren’t going to go back to your apartment, right? You said the cops have been raiding all your warehouses?”

“What’s that gotta do with our apartment?” Ran muttered, lips twisting down as he started typing out another angry message. 

“... who do you guys think has the cops in their pocket?” you asked slowly, Rindou and Ran both looked up at you, Rindou’s face falling and Ran’s brows furrowing. “My uncle has had the TMPD in his pocket since we were kids, and if he does, Sugawara surely does too. Plus they have access to all the CCTV cameras in the city… that’s on me, I guess… sorry. Anyway, what I’m trying to get at is that we can't really stay in Tokyo right now. It’s not safe. They’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, literally.”

“The fuckin’ cameras,” Ran muttered to himself, shooting you a half-hearted glare before returning back to whatever argument he was having over text, “God, Sanzu won’t leave me the fuck alone.”

“What’s he want now?” Rindou rolled his eyes, turning his attention back toward Ran and you tuned them out as your phone buzzed in your pocket. 

You recognized Takuya’s number flashing on your screen and you swallowed thickly as you answered the phone, praying to whatever god that would listen that they managed to get out of Tokyo safely.

“Takuya, are you-”

“Get out of the fucking elevator now,” it was Mina’s voice on the other side of the phone. Your heartbeat faltered in your chest, your body moved on instinct, eyes darting up to catch the thirteen on the elevator as it descended down to the ground floor. You slammed your hand against the button for the twelfth floor.

“What’s going on?” you demanded, “Mina-”

“Sugawara’s fuckers are in the building, they’re waiting at the bottom of the elevator, coming up the north and south stairwells. Eight on north, nine on south. We’re way outside the city right now, I won’t be able to get to you. You’ve gotta get out of there.”

“Oh fuck,” you breathed out, looking down each hall, “Oh fuck, fuck, what floor are they on right now.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Rindou demanded, clicking off the safety of his gun as he readied it in front of him, eyes wild as he looked up and down the hallway, trying to figure it out on his own. 

“Sugawara’s men are here,” you said quietly as Mina and Takuya talked in the background, trying to pinpoint where exactly Sugawara’s men were. “In the building. Coming up now.” 

“They’re on the sixth floor, or close to it. I can’t tell exactly, there’s no cameras in the stairwells. They seem to have your location, they’re not even bothering to check the other floors, just coming right up,” Takuya’s voice sounded further away, you could hear him typing away at whatever computer he was on, “I’m trying to get into the building’s cameras now. They’re not ours, it’s taking a bit longer than it would if they were.”

“We need to move,” Ran said, grimacing as he pushed himself off of the wall. Sweat was beading at his forehead, his face looked paler than usual, his legs shook with every step. 

He was not okay.

“Ran,” you breathed out, trying to move forward to grab him but he batted your hands away.

“I’m fine,” his face was resentful, angry. He despised weakness. He hated being the one holding people back, “I’m fine. We need to move. Start moving.”

“You can’t walk,” Rindou spit right back, not having any of Ran’s shit, “You’re going to hold us back.”

“Then leave me,” Ran’s tone was absolutely vile, eyes on fire as he glared at Rindou.

“Fuck you,” Rindou snarled, shoving the gun in your hands before moving to wrap his arm around Ran’s waist, steadying him and helping him move along. His face softened as he looked back at you, “You know how to use that?”

“Yeah,” you swallowed thickly, holding the gun correctly in front of you, “I know how to use it.”

“Go to the left, down the north stairwell. They’re moving slower and there’s less of them. You’ll at least be able to get down a flight or two before they catch up. The building’s gym is on the tenth floor, it’ll probably be the easiest place to take cover and take them out. I’ll try to get the cameras out before you get to the floor,” Takuya said, you hesitated.

“Stop fucking standing there and move,” Mina boomed and you were moving forward immediately, sprinting to the north stairwell and shoving your phone into Ran’s hands as you reached the metal door.

“You’re on phone duty,” you said to Ran, who gave you a scowl so deep that you swore it would be permanently etched on his face. 

The door creaked open as you pushed it open, holding it for Ran and Rindou before closing it quietly behind the two of them. Your eyes darted around. There were no cameras in the stairwells, but you knew they must have seen the three of you enter it from the ones on the twelfth floor. You had to keep moving.

You let out an unsteady breath, holding the gun in front of you as you started down the steps, moving as quickly and quietly as possible. You glanced back at Rindou and Ran. Ran had shoved a fistful of his shirt into his mouth, muffling the grunts of pain that rose at all of the jostling, giving you a clear view of the nasty bruises lining his abdomen courtesy of your decision.

Guilt swelled again, you pushed it away.

Now was not the time. Hesitate and it’ll get all three of you killed.

Focus. 

You turned down the staircase, glancing down. You felt sick, anxiety was eating at your chest and stomach. You could hear the footsteps slamming against the metal stairs from floors below, the hushed voices. They were all armed, you were sure.

And you were the only one of the three of you armed. One versus eight, plus the additional nine on the opposite side of the building.

You felt sick. You couldn’t let them die here, not now. Not ever. You had to get them out, even if it meant giving yourself up.

They would never forgive you.

You don’t even know if they would actually let them go. They could lie.

It might be your only shot.

You felt dizzy, nauseous. You couldn’t push it away.

Floor Eleven.

One more floor, then sprint to the gym. You could make it. The three of you had done this a million times before, running from Miss Yua and then trying to camp out in the locker room, hiding behind the benches before she inevitably found you.

An intense sense of nostalgia swept through you as you looked back at them again. You could practically picture yourself hopping down three stairs at a time, shrieking and laughing and looking back over your shoulder as Rindou tried to keep up with you and Ran. The two of you had always been the fastest.

You were almost there. One more staircase. 

You turned down the last twist, and you swore your heart stopped beating when you came face to face with a man around your age, dark hair, darker eyes. Gun in hand.

No. They had sent someone ahead?

Recognition flashed through his eyes when he saw you, gaze ripping to the side, halfway up the other staircase to where Rindou was struggling with Ran.

Your eyes widened.

You hesitated.

He raised his own gun, but not at you, and your body acted before your mind could process what was happening, watching Ran use the last of his strength to force Rindou behind him, using his body as a shield. All of the lessons from Mina and Mister Mado before he passed away coming back to swim at the forefront of your head. 

Brace your feet. Steady your arms. Aim and pull the trigger.

Do not hesitate.

The bang that echoed throughout the staircase was terrible, loud, you wanted to cover your ears and curl up. In front of you, the man dropped dead to the ground, a hole through his forehead.

Your breath was erratic, your eyes were wild. “W-we need to keep going,” you told them. You could hear shouts from below, closer, the pounding of feet moving faster.

You raced down the steps, swinging open the door to the tenth floor, holding it for Rindou and Ran before taking off down the hall to where the glass doors of the gym were situated in the middle of the floor.

Your fingers trembled as you typed in the passcode—it was the same after all of these years and tears of gratefulness sprung to your eyes. A small mercy.

Your face was wet and sticky, you could feel a hot, thick liquid dripping down your cheek, something chunky in your hair. Your vision blurred and spun, shaky arms pushed open the doors.

Rindou and Ran slipped in and you shut the doors just as the doors to the stairwell slammed open on either side. Ran looked worse, you noted as you followed them into the locker room, locking the metal door behind the three of you. He was barely standing, shivering and sweating at the same time.

“Ran-“ you began, but he interrupted you.

“Are you okay?” Ran asked, your brows furrowed, unsure of why he was asking you that when he was the one in awful shape. “Was that the first time you killed someone?”

Your lips parted to answer, no noise left them. You swallowed, clearing your throat as you tried again, “Directly, yeah,” you said softly, looking away.

You felt two fingers press against your jaw, Rindou turned your face to him, bringing a warm, damp rag to your skin and wiping off the blood, removing whatever had been in your hair and hiding it in the rag before you could see it.

“You did good,” he murmured, “He would have-“

He would have killed us.

Well, you corrected, them. Your mind danced as you recalled the brief second before you shot him. He had seen you, recognized you, and then purposefully turned his body to pull the gun on Ran and Rindou.

They weren’t targeting you.

“They’re not targeting me,” you said quietly, refusing to look at either of them, “They-he looked at me and recognized me, but then he turned to try to kill you guys.”

“I figured they wouldn’t,” Ran said, grunting and shifting from where he was sitting on the ground, arms circling his abdomen, “Not when you’ve got all the money from Izanami. They’ll probably try to take you in and-“

“I should go,” you said, interrupting him. Rindou and Ran’s heads snapped toward you, confusion on the former’s and fury on the latter’s. “They won’t kill me, I can make a deal-“

“They won’t kill you yet,” Ran hissed, “That’s not to say they won’t once they’ve got their hands on Izanami.”

You shook your head. Your throat felt tight, your hands were shaky, you didn’t even know how you were talking coherently.

“We won’t make it out of here,” your eyes were tearing up.

Not now. Not now. Not now.

Ran opened his mouth to protest but you continued before he could, “There are what? Seventeen rounds in this? There’s seventeen of them just coming up here looking for us. There’s god knows how many downstairs waiting for. There’s only two exits for the building and I’m sure both of them are covered. I would rather-I would rather take the chance than certain death.”

“No,” Ran said instantly, “Absolutely not.”

“You can barely even walk,” you hissed, taking a step closer to him, “You can barely walk, Ran. H-“

“They’ll kill you as soon as they get what they want,” Ran’s expression was livid, “You fucking promised that you wouldn’t pull shit like this. We can hold out here-“

“Hold out for what?” you demanded, and to your horror, your voice cracked, “Hold out for what? Bonten isn’t coming. You said it yourself, they’re busy dealing with the raids. What are we holding out for? For them to finally break in here and kill you guys?”

Neither Ran nor Rindou responded, you let out another shaky breath, “Answer me,” you said, voice pleading as you looked between them, “Tell me there’s something else we can fall back on and I won’t. But I’m not going to stay here like a sitting duck so they can come in here and kill you guys.”

You could hear banging coming from the hall, a shattering of glass—you flinched violently. They were in the gym. It was only a matter of time.

“They’ll kill us anyway,” Rindou’s voice cracked, you had never heard him like this before. Tears sprung to your eyes and you forced them away. You had to stay strong, convince them that this was the best route. He grabbed you by the jaw, forcing you to look at him. “They’ll kill us anyway, all you’re doing is giving yourself up. If we can hold them off, you can get out of here.”

“That’s a big ‘if’ when you have one gun,” you snapped, “you’ll die if we do it that way. There’s no way.”

“We’ll die either way,” Ran shouted, trying to hide the grimace that swept over his face at the action. “We’ll die either way, I’d rather die knowing you might’ve got out of here instead of you having thrown yourself to death row for us.”

“I’ll hold Izanami hostage,” you looked away, staring at the door of the locker room that led to the gym, to where Sugawara’s men were gathered and searching for the three of you. You heard a shout and a bang against the locker room door.

They knew where you were.

“They’ll need me to sign over Izanami before they kill me, otherwise the company will go over to Takuya at my death,” you said quietly. “I’ll refuse to sign it over until I know you guys are safe.”

“No,” Ran said, “No, stop. They’ll just take us in and torture us until you give in. There’s no win-“

“The signing is public, for a company of Izanami’s size. Or even if the signing itself isn’t, I’ll be expected to make some sort of public announcement and speech detailing the future of Izanami under someone else’s leadership,” you interrupted, staring at the door blankly as the metal shook underneath the force of a kick. “They wouldn’t risk me speaking out in public.”

You smiled wryly, looking back at them, “Unfortunately for them, I’m a lot more popular with the general public than my uncle is. They know it would start an uproar.”

You supposed there was always the issue that they could just hold Rindou and Ran hostage to keep you quiet during the speech but… you were running out of options, and time. They would die here without a doubt if you didn’t do anything. At least they would have a chance if you played along.

You rose to your feet.

“No,” Ran’s voice was hoarse, panicked as he struggled to his feet. 

You did not look back at him.

“Don’t you dare walk out that door,” Ran spat out, “I won’t forgive you. Don’t you fucking dare. Rindou, stop her.”

You did not look back at him.

A hand reached out to grab your wrist, holding you in place. You turned your head to the side, looking at him from the corner of your eye. 

“Don’t do this,” he said quietly.

“Trust me,” you responded. “Please, Rin.”

Rindou stared at you for what seemed like an eternity, searching your eyes for some sort of answer. You waited, hoping and praying that he found it.

He let go of your wrist.

You let out a shaky breath.

“Thank you.”

Ran was shouting, furious, but you did your best to tune him out. Distantly noticing how Rindou was forcing him back down to the ground instead of chasing after you and Ran, too weak to fight back, could only spit vile insults and curses at his younger brother.

You stood in front of the door, swallowing thickly.

“I’ll come out,” you called loudly, the shouting on the other side of the door ceased. “I would prefer not to be shot.”

For a moment, there was no response, you could hear your heart beating in your chest. You could hear Ran begging you not to go—you had never heard him beg before. Your throat felt tight, your hands felt shaky.

“Come out,” one man called, “Any tricks and we’ll shoot down all three of you.”

You reached out for the lock on the door.

“Please,” Ran was gasping, his voice was cracking, your lips trembled, “Don’t fucking do it, don’t go out there. We just got you back, we just got you back.”

Chin up, back straight. Push all of your emotions to the back of your head. You can’t fall apart now. Don’t let them see you break, they’ll latch onto weakness.

You raised your chin. You straightened your back. You opened the door.

***

WC: 12.2k

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK GREATLY APPRECIATED !!! 

— feedback on character development and story progression pls do not nitpick little mistakes

Teaser: Streams & Sheets 🔞 | JJK

Word Count: 10k+ words (im sry) Pairings: gamer!jungkook x reader Genre: gaming au, slice of life, established relationship

Summary: Nobody expected famous twitch streamer JJK to trend online when his mysterious girlfriend accidentally makes a cameo in one of his livestreams. The chaotic problem in question? You streamed a live sex tape. ( kofisips' masterlist )

Warnings: the holy trinity (smut, angst & fluff), dom!jungkook, long haired jungkook in a man bun and brow piercing, jungkook with his alphabet username (rip), unprotected sex, creampie, degrading, oral (f & m receiving), face fucking, multiple orgasm, slut shaming, dacryphilia, ass play, online humiliation, mentions of unsure breakup that's not clear with the characters, over thinking, slight ddlg

read: reply to this post or send an ask to be included in the taglist :)

As he takes a sip from his coffee, he hears your huffs and struggles to open the strawberry jam you wanted on your toast. He doesn’t intervene just yet, he stays quiet and waits for you to finally give up.

Mentally, he counts from one to three, then you turned your head and faced him with a pout, whispering his name in a soft voice, “Koo?” Your eyes emulated like that of a doe, “Can you help me out?”

“Alright, give it to me,” he chuckles, reaching for the jar and twisting it open with ease. Handing you the strawberry jam, he smiles as he watches you spread it on your toast merrily, “Anything else my baby wants?”

You hum as you thought, “Hmm, a cup of tea would be nice.”

Jungkook will never admit this, but he loves it when you ask for his help.

No matter how big or small it is, he’s willing to do anything you ask of him. Just call him in those three simple letters and he will literally cross an ocean just to help you out. Running errands is also just a breeze for him all because he knows you’d be needing help in reaching the high shelves or simply carrying anything you bought.

As selfish as it sounds, he adores the way he feels needed by you. He’s fine being called pussy whipped, the guy just loved taking good care of you.

During the first half of your relationship, he may or may not have gone overboard in looking after you. It came to a point where you felt somehow too dependent on him even when he says he doesn’t mind at all.

“Koo, I have hands,” you say sternly, pulling your heavy luggage away from his grip. Raising both of your hands in the air, you move it closer to his face, “See? I have two!”

“Baby, can’t you see this is too heavy for you to carry?” He retorts, not letting go of the handle.

For the rest of the ride to Busan, you stayed quiet. Too quiet for Jungkook’s liking. He would spare you a glance from time to time but not once did you ever meet his gaze. He didn’t understand why you had such a sour mood over a mere luggage, especially not when he’s always done things for you even when you don’t ask. 

When the silence was too much for him to bear, he finally spoke to you first, “Baby.” You finally looked at him, alright, but with an annoyed glare. “It wasn’t a big deal. I was just trying to help.”

“Not a big deal?” Your tone is slightly raised, making his forehead crease. He knows you’re about to call him by his government name next, “Jungkook, you’re always doing things for me, which I appreciate, but I can’t…I can’t keep feeling like a burden all the time.”

His eyes widened at your sudden outburst, “I– Y/N, I never meant for you to feel that way.” He reached for your hand, but not grabbing it. All he does is graze his finger over your knuckles soothingly, “I’m sorry if me constantly helping you made you feel like a burden, but I swear I just love to do things for you.”

Looking at how apologetic he truly was, there was no way you could stay mad at him. Letting out a sigh, you scoot closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder, “I understand, Koo. Just…just let me do things on my own and step in when I call for you.”

Bringing the back of your hand to his lips, he leaves a soft kiss and smiles against your skin, “Okay, love. Sounds fair.”

His favorite part of the day ever since the both of you had decided to live together was waking up entangled in silk sheets and seeing your face first thing in the morning. If there's any scent he can attribute to you, it would be the smell of coffee and cinnamon. 

That's the thing about you. You weren't a shot of espresso; you were a shot of tequila that burned a line to the throat. Aside from that, you were also good at playing video games and could smoke a whole team out if you decided to make gaming a career.

Like a support in the game, you revive him to be the best he can be. The love you give is enough for him to forget all the lower back strain he suffered from sitting on his chair for too long.

Omgggg ur bringing kuroko no basket back!!!! Amazing as always

┌─ “ ! „ WHEN YOU ASK

tw. yandere, dubcon, threats, coercion, some degradation, dom/sub themes, humiliation, noncon voyeurism, former bullying mention, threesome-ish, crying, knife, choking wordcount. 5.5k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by another amazing person ♡ thank you so much for the commission!! i hope you like this one and it lives up to your expectation and i !! ahHH i just always get nervous writing charas i haven't before but I had a blast! mwUah i hopeee you enjoy!!! kiSsES once again thankies to rhi for being best beta hehe

akashi seijuro x fem!reader

See, if someone asked, Mibuchi could say that he’s friends with you.

It wouldn’t be an outright lie -you’ve been in the same classes since middle school, he’s seen how you act around your friends and wave everyone goodbye with a smile- but maybe it isn’t exactly the truth either. Safer to say, Mibuchi knows of you. Would even call you an acquaintance of sorts, and he’s pretty sure you guys were sort of friendly when you were twelve and he sat next you in class for a good couple months — he might even have walked you home at some point.

You could have been friends, if he’d been a little less busy with basketball practice in middle and high school, a little less busy with the team. Because really, he’d have had every opportunity to. You were in the cheer squad for a couple years, and he’s pretty sure you were one of the girls who helped collect funds for the Rakuzan bus rides from and to tournaments- and you always seemed pleasant, kind. If he hadn’t been so focused on his sport career, he might’ve even had a bit of a crush on you.

Not that he plans on making up for it now, but it’s not hard to see or admit that you’re pretty stunning, you were back then— and you definitely are today. Perfectly manicured nails and beautifully glossy hair that makes you look full and warm and modelesque all at once. You shine. It’s hard not to notice someone like you whenever he sees you at their matches. He knows he’s not the only one. College jocks are hardly the picture of self restraint, and if you think signed athletes are any different, you’d be wrong. But all of that doesn’t really matter, because you don’t sit in the stands for him.

The redhead that he has spent the past few years playing alongside is lucky to call you more than friends. He respects Akashi. There’s almost no way around it when you play on a team alongside the guy, that pure, unfiltered resolve he has, and the steely brute force it sometimes takes the form of. Akashi wouldn’t exactly have it any other way too, and though that might get annoying if he were anyone else, Mibuchi isn’t arrogant enough to acknowledge that the guy plays best when he knows people he respects have his back. That type of world-class talent doesn’t come around a lot.

The redhead that has you sitting looking pretty in the stands is the same boy that’d shove you to the concrete in grade 2. The one he saw yank your pigtails and put glue in your backpack, isn’t he? The one who started the talk that you’d kissed a teacher under the bleachers, and stood by when Hayama stuck his hand up your skirt? Yeah, it’s probably because you aren’t friends that he doesn’t understand. All he knows is that kids grow up, and he respects the Captain.

So it’s because he respects Akashi that he finds himself in this situation, isn’t it?

You’re tiny. Well, everyone is sort of ‘tiny’ compared to most professional basketballers… but leaning against the concrete pillar with your perfect outfit and your arms wrapped around yourself, not a hair out of place - it is more vibes than actual appearance that makes you seem small. Compact, tiny, quiet, if he didn’t know any better, he’d liken you to a skittish little animal. You’re waiting, eyes scanning everyone briefly as they stream out. It’s sort of lonely looking, though. His head reminds him it isn't really his problem, but hey, it feels weird to pretend to not see you too.

And he supposes you are kinda friendly, right? As his long legs carry him through the sliding doors of the training center, he plops a sucker between his lips, glances over his shoulder and - makes the executive choice to walk up to you. If only to entertain you a little while Akashi takes his time running through the coaches’ comments, like he usually does. You blank when you notice him walk up, before doing a quick double take at the doors, and he takes the sort of deer-in-headlights look as a question on your end. “Akashi’s probably going to be a little bit longer, if I had to guess.”

“Oh. I see.” You let out a nervous little laugh, and wring your hands together, and he takes a brief second to look at you. Sure, he hasn’t exactly been very chatty when you’ve strolled in during practices with forgotten bento boxes, or when you sit at the very front row during matches with your perfectly presented exterior and a nervous glitter in your eyes, or even when it seems you’ve been dragged along to the teams events— but from what he knows of you… in the past, you’re not the shy little bunny standing before him now. It almost makes him a little self-conscious. Is it him that’s making you hesitate, or are you just… different now? People do change, after all. Still, it doesn’t seem… like change.

“I’m… Mibuchi, I was in the same class as you a lot growing up.” He finds himself explaining, in case you forgot. He wouldn’t exactly blame you if you did. If you managed to forgive and forget for Akashi, you could’ve forgotten most other things.

But you pause, and then your face softens into a slow smile. “I remember you, Reo-kun. We were desk mates in Ms. Tanaka’s class. You were always nice to me.” Right, with your high ponytail and cute bangs and your flowery frilly shirts. Thinking about it harder, he definitely did have somewhat of a crush on you back then. “It’s nice to get to talk to you again, it’s been so long.”

“You still like basketball, huh?” he asks, and you laugh and look at the floor, before nodding.

It takes a few seconds for your eyes to meet his again. “Yes, I guess so. Don’t have much of a choice.” It lingers when your voice goes a little more quiet. Right. Because, your boyfriend’s a pro-athlete. “Don’t get me wrong, I like the games! It’s really nice to get swept up in the excitement of it from time to time.” You sound light, breezy … but almost mournful too. It’s somewhere in your eyes, your long lashes unable to hide the deepness of it. “Honestly, I can’t wait for the season to start again.” Another beat passes, before you seem to snap out of it, and refocus on him. “You’re still playing too.”

Whatever tension crept up in his shoulders doesn’t loosen when he grins. “Almost fifteen years now, can’t let that streak go to waste.” He sucks on the lollipop for a long moment, before tilting his head. “Besides, pretty sure Akashi wouldn’t let me.”

It cracks your carefully crafted expression. For a split second -surprising both himself and you, it seems, because then your smile is picture perfect again. The same perfect smile you give everyone when they say ‘hi’ and Akashi laces his hand with yours. Or when you blow back a kiss across the field. And see, he isn’t too concerned with people’s reactions, usually. But it’s so sudden that it feels … weird. Everything suddenly feels weird. You never wear Akashi’s jerseys, even when he stuffs them into your hand before matches. Not that you have to… it’s just, you used to be cheer captain. It seems like something you’d want to do.

That sits weirdly. 

“You’re definitely right about that,” you agree, but the light of it doesn’t reach your eyes. Before he can think about it, the electronic doors slide open behind him— and as if you’re burned, you take a few steps away and into a new line of sight. “‘Juro, you’re back!”

“Why aren’t you waiting in the car, stupid?” is the first thing that comes out, reaching for you like you’re a lost child, as his mismatched eyes find Mibuchi. His face is perfectly blank of emotion as it always seems to be. “You guys were talking?”

Instantly, your eyes shoot up to his, and you seem to cling a little harder. “No! N-no, just… Mibuchi was waiting with me. We’re done.” You fiddle with the chain of your necklace when your boyfriend stays quiet and stares you down, searching for … a lie? An explanation? Whatever it is makes Mibuchi feel like he shouldn’t be watching. But he can’t pull away from the scene. His teammate eventually leans down to kiss you long and deep, and your shoulders drop a tad bit. Not enough to look relaxed.

“Hm.” If Akashi notices, he doesn’t mention it, and instead brushes his lips along your temple. “We should get home then. You look a little tired.” You don’t agree, but your feet start moving robotically upon the prompt, and the noiret takes that as the only clue he’s gonna get that the conversation is over.

“See you two next… practice,” he starts to say as you two walk off, but quiets down as you turn over your shoulder to look at him. There’s something off about your eyes. At least, he swears— there is. It makes him feel like he’s crazy. Because your pretty smile is right there, and you’re wrapping your perfectly manicured fingers around Akashi’s bicep.

The look doesn’t fade when Akashi simply nods, and ushers you along with a hand that lands in the dip of your spine. “Sure.”

+

The next time he sees you isn’t at practice. It takes him aback a little, putting the weights he was curling down to straighten up for a better view. You’re looking around like a lost puppy, and the reflection on the large glass panes boxing him off hides most of you from view, but sure enough- it’s you. Just you, once more, rubbing your hands along your arms as you wait in line for something.

It isn’t his business. It really isn’t, but- you didn’t show up to any of their matches or practices the last two weeks. Is it so strange that he’s sort of glad to see you alive and well? Not that he’d ever think badly of Akashi, but you’d been in such a bad mood when you left, and it just… didn’t seem right. He takes his water bottle to toss it onto his bag, before jogging on over out of the gates and around the corner right when you slip out of view. A few people walk around him, and he catches a brief look of your face as you hesitantly slip a card into the ATM.

Your hands are shaking. They’re shaking, and your lip is screwed between your teeth and… if it wasn’t you, he’d think you were doing something nefarious. “Hey,” he softly breathes as he walks up, and your jumpy squeak only makes him more uncomfortable.

Your eyes are so wide when you turn around. “Mibuchi! —Oh, Reo… it’s you.” The device behind you beeps. “Sorry, I,” your pretty face paints on a smile as you take out the money and slide it neatly into your purse, “I wasn’t expecting anyone to talk to me.” There’s a moment of silence as he scans you up and down, and that horrible feeling drops back into his gut. He can’t help it, it’s laced in the air between you two, it’s on his tongue, it’s in your eyes when you blink up at him. “Reo? Are you- okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” he nods, wiping his hands on his gym shorts. Is— should he say something? Is there something to say? It’s not like he can just … ask if you’re being treated badly. Hell- he’s been friends with Akashi since high school- he trusts the guy! There’s absolutely no reason he should be thinking like this. “You look beautiful,” he ends up blurting out, unable to think of anything else to say. “Me and the guys missed you at practice.”

“O-oh,” you giggle, and shake your head. “I was just a bit… busy at home, that’s all. I hoped Seijuro would’ve told you guys not to expect me.” Either you’re a really good actor, or some of your nerves slide off of you when you look up at him, and this time, he believes the smile. “But I guess I don’t have to tell you what he’s like, he isn’t really the talking type.” There’s a certain fondness in your eyes when you shrug. “You know, Seijuro bought me a ring five weeks into dating, when we were in high school. Said he knew what he wanted, and that he’d make me the happiest wife on the planet if I agreed.” You giggle. “At sixteen years old, he was already that way. I thought it was really romantic back then, his smittenness.”

This he remembers. Akashi talked about it in the locker room once, knowing you’d be cheering in the stands, he’s pretty sure he even showed off the ring despite the ridicule. Did you still wear Akashi’s jerseys back then? He can’t for the life of him figure out why he cares to remember so bad. Your tongue swipes out to brush your lips. “We’re a long ways out from high school now, huh?” Mibuchi’s hand twitches by his side as he watches the smile die out, but what the hell can he say. He wasn’t there for either of you, not really. If something did happen, would he even know?

His eyes sink down your face ever so briefly to your throat when you look off. There’s a mark purple and red where a necklace would have sat, bruised all around, and though faded- he stops smiling.

“What’s that?!” 

You jerk away with an uncomfortable glance, and a shake of your head. Fuck, he wants you to say something. He wants you to tell him some stupid story about a rash or a tumble, to tell him to fuck off and leave you be, because it isn’t his business- but you don’t. Maybe he does consider you a friend. “Hey, if- you ever need anything,” need help, he wants to say, but the word doesn’t make it out of his mouth. “You just have to ask, you know?” He doesn’t exactly expect you to drop everything and beg for aid in the middle of Kyoto, but the pristine calm that washes over you is almost eerie.

Your eyes find his. “Well— I- I want to visit my mom.” The tremble in your voice is soft, but it’s there, squeezing your fingers a little tighter. “Can you drop me off at the nearest train station? Seijuro’s off on a little business trip today, and he’s got his car. I don’t really… want to wait until he’s back.” A nagging little voice in the back of his head tells him not to get involved.

But the voice isn’t loud enough. “Of course, yeah.”

+

Akashi’s passes are bad today. He’s been on edge seemingly all practice, wiping sweat off the back of his neck as he talks to the manager- and Mibuchi doesn’t feel entirely comfortable just walking up to him. They don’t have the friendship they did in high school, and though he still appreciates the guy, there’s a space there that wasn’t there before. As if on cue, the redhead’s eyes flick up and meet his, differently colored eyes scanning him up and down, and Mibuchi looks away. He doesn’t want to seem too interested in your business, he’s pretty sure you wouldn’t want him to be either— but he can’t exactly pretend not to be curious anymore. It’s basically leaking out of him onto the polished floor.

Did you get home okay after? Did you and Akashi talk? Did you fight? 

The first hour results in a record of missed 3 pointers and shitty teamwork, so clearly the tension isn’t just in his head. Even their stern watcher of a coach eventually grits his teeth. “All of you, I want you to regroup before the end of the night, or I’ll have you dribbling until your arms fall off.” Everyone straightens out and gives a quick ‘yes, coach’. His eyes then slide to the Captain, and he crosses his arms. “Akashi, take a rest, you’re all over the place today.”

“You almost elbowed me in the face earlier, dude,” the shooting guard softly mumbles upon the prompt, and it’s barely a second before Akashi’s nose to nose with the man, his fist wound in the sweaty jersey by his throat. Everyone freezes up, and even the long-time coach is caught off guard by the sudden flare of anger. But Akashi doesn’t falter, and hisses out his words.

“Stay out of my fucking way then. This is my court, and you’re on my team. You serve me.”

The gruff older man stands up to separate the two with a short bark of the Captain’s name, as those devilish mismatched eyes flick up. “Akashi! Bench, now. You pull a stunt like that again and you’ll remain there.” It’s like there’s a black cloud over the entire gym that makes them hold their breath, until every so slowly, the fist unfurls and drops. The redhead doesn’t say another word, but his brows are just as furrowed as he steps back, and looks around. Those fiery eyes pass over Mibuchi just briefly, and he swears they stare a little longer than they should. “Now line up, you shitty little brats!”

“Yes, coach!”

Shoes squeak on the floor as they line up, and Mibuchi lingers on the interaction a bit longer. The shorter man catches the ball tossed at him, and slowly straightens up as he clicks his tongue. “Yes, coach.” He can’t shake the glare or the thinly laced impatience in his voice.

+

It displays almost three on the blinking alarm clock when the rattling at his door wakes him. There’s an impatient knock, and then another few ones about twenty seconds later that have him throwing the covers off. The house is as he left it for the night when he drags himself towards the entrance and waits for a moment longer, before a tiny sniffle catches him entirely off guard. It’s a woman. His tired mind still instantly comes upon you, and he unlocks the door when a hand again meets the wood.

The apartment light doesn’t fail him. It is you, though there’s a darkness under your eyes -smudged mascara- and your hands are bound before you, as you’re basically held up by your neck and you’re pushed into the doorway. Mibuchi stumbles as his hands land on your arms to stop your fall, and for a brief moment, everything seems okay.

Until the door is closed behind the three of you and the person who pushed glares with an anger that he can feel burn his skin. Akashi. The normally quiet, demanding Captain doesn’t have much of his usual restraint when he picks you back up by your arm and holds you out as if you’re a stolen toy— and he sneers as the hiss of his voice cuts. “You think I’m fucking stupid? I saw you looking at her all of last season’s practices. But she doesn’t actually want you, does she? She tried her very fucking best to run off, to no avail.” He briefly glares down at you when you whimper, and shake your head against the gag in your mouth. “Don’t pout, slut, you deserve to be punished. Don’t you think?”

You’re crying. Hard, a desperate, trashing cry that’s making his hairs stand upright. And he doesn’t think you could ever look ugly, but you’re definitely crying like you want the ground to swallow you up whole, and like the action of struggling this hard is causing you pain. “No, I don’t wanna.”

The entire scene doesn’t make any sense. Why are you — why is Akashi here? It fries his brain the longer he thinks, and his hands slowly slide off of your arms to take a tiny step back. “Captain…,” Mibuchi starts, reaching out to hold your hand. Akashi should let go of you. You’re hurt.

The movement has Akashi’s irises back on his teammate with fire, eyes wide and accusatory. “Move.” He takes you by your collar and drags you like you’re a kitten, before shouldering Mibuchi out of his own doorway to deposit you on the cold floor. It knocks him out of his daze enough to at least process the situation. This can’t be his former friend pulling something like this— but it’s playing out right before him. What the fuck? “I had to spend the entirety of yesterday driving up to Tokyo because of the stupid shit my flighty little wife pulled,” Akashi’s voice is tighter now, calmer, but not any less vicious as he watches you.

“Maybe if you get on your knees and beg my forgiveness, I won’t let everyone know what a fucking whore you are.” Through the gag, your muffled, pitched voice sounds out in the openness of his apartment. You look so pitiful, and Akashi’s not letting up as he grips your face to pull it only about an inch away from his own. “Apologize. You are mine. Doesn’t matter how far you run, you’re always going to be mine.” A thumb brushes along your cheeks to get rid of the silvery tracks. “I love you. You know I do.”

“You should let go of her,” his own voice comes before he has time to think it over. This situation is absurd, and he isn’t willing to just stand by to watch you get treated this way— at least, that’s until the other man turns to him and the brief moment of kindness is replaced by a darkness that flashes over his face.

The redhead’s hand disappears into his pocket, glaring at him from his elevated position in the baren light of the room. “Shut your fucking mouth, Mibuchi.” There’s not a sliver of familiarity left when he clicks his tongue, and like he’s the one who’s disgusted, narrows his eyes. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to.” The tense silence is only made more pressing by the way you give him those fearful eyes, shaking your head ‘no’ as the man before him steps a bit closer. “I am not here to ask your opinion… I’m here to punish her.” As he points in your direction, his hand comes out of his pocket with a knife, glittering brilliantly even in the dark, and is then aimed towards him. Your pinched crying starts up again when he pulls your head up by your hair, and Akashi raises an eyebrow.

“You think you’re the first with notions of heroism? This brat runs like it’s a hobby. You’re not special.” His eyes burn. “If I hear you talk to me again, I’ll hurt her,” he breathes, deathly serious as he turns to you, “and if you don’t obey, I’ll hurt him, okay? I know you don’t want that, baby doll.” When you wildly shake your head again, he kneels down by your side, and Mibuchi can’t do anything but watch as the spit-filled gag is pulled down your chin and Akashi cups your cheek to kiss you ever so softly. “I know, I know, it’s okay. You were being friendly, hm? You’d never use our friend here for your own protection. But you still let me find you, and now you get punished, you know that.”

“Seijuro, I’m sorry, please,” your voice barely sounds like you. It’s hoarser, desperate, and cracking with tears as wetness and snot runs on your face— “please let’s just go home. We don’t have to make up here, I won’t- I won’t run again, I promise.” Akashi stills for a second too long to pretend to be indifferent. But he still hardens up, and simply turns over his shoulder to look at the noiret with a cold look.

“Where’s the bedroom?”

“N- ‘Juro- no,” you start struggling again through your tears, and he wants to help you. “Please anything but this, I beg you! Seijuro!” Your poor wrists look rubbed raw because of the fabric, and be it the dejected look in your eyes or the sound of your cries ringing through his house -it sparks another surge of adrenaline in him. But the Captain doesn’t repeat himself, and the words ring through his skull. I’ll hurt her. “I’ll be your good girl-” you start, before dissolving into a mess of cries when the redhead wraps an arm around your belly and pulls you up onto your feet against him. You go soft and quiet when your face is against his chest, and Akashi presses the sharp blade of the knife into your neck.

“Well?”

“It’s to the left.” Mibuchi has no other choice, does he? He has no way of knowing if the man before him would actually hurt you— he doesn’t even know the person standing before him now. As he trails his eyes over the two of you in both worry and stress, the glitter of the ring on your finger doesn’t miss him. You really did get married, didn’t you? Was it always like this? He can’t imagine you’d have stayed as long as you have if it was… but then again, he clearly doesn’t know anything about Akashi. He doesn’t know anything about you either, from the looks of things.

“Come along,” Akashi says, leading the way to the abandoned bedroom with too steady a step. If he wasn’t so worried about getting you hurt -or worse- he could probably make a run for his phone charging on the kitchen counter. But by the time police got here, it’d be too late. So instead he just slowly, carefully follows behind as you’re deposited on the messed up sheets of his own bed, and stands in the doorway with baited breath. As Akashi slowly starts to undo each button of your silky pyjamas, a horrible feeling settles in his stomach, and he clears his voice. There’s no way it can be what he thinks it is. The stretch of skin revealed to him is littered with fresh hickeys, and Mibuchi looks away.

Not quick enough, clearly, because you pull up a sniffled breath and let out a little whine when Akashi hums. “Always make me embarrass you like this.” The soft lilt to his tone is almost gentle, if he wasn’t threatening you with a knife a minute earlier. “Crying like a baby until you get what you want, hm?” The ruffling of clothes is enough to have heat come up onto Mibuchi’s face, resolutely boring his eyes into the doorframe instead of you. Akashi can’t be serious. He clears his voice, and the Captain sighs. “So how long have you been in love with my wife?”

“Huh?” He looks up to see the way you’re holding the undone shirt to your chest and barely keeping your modesty, and Akashi giving him a blank look. “I- I’m not-”

“Sure you are. Just look at her.” He apraises you from his spot beside the bed, and runs his long fingers along your jaw and shoulder with a little breath. “She’s absolutely perfect. Aren’t you, baby? My beautiful little doll.” The kiss he lays onto your lips is genuinely soft, and loving, and a cold spike comes to Mibuchi’s spine at the sight of you melting into the touch despite everything. “Always perfect for me…” Akashi whispers, and then straightens up. “That’s exactly why I can’t let you go.”

He turns over his shoulder briefly to look at Mibuchi, and then sighs. “You should take a seat. I’m going to remind my little whore wife exactly who she belongs to- you sit and be quiet, understand?”

He can’t bring himself to answer verbally, but at the pleading look in your eyes -the one currently eating him up as much as it is sending hot flares down his body- he slowly takes the farthest corner of the bed and sits. Your eyes don’t manage to make it to his as Akashi unclasps your arms from around you and peels the last of your soft top off. His eyes flick down instinctively, he can’t help it, and makes his mouth a little more dry. You’re - beautiful, embarrassment coloring your cheeks and ears and chest with obvious humiliation that only makes the redhead hum. “You’re so pretty.” His rough palm comes under your face to grab it and force it to turn. “Look at Mibuchi, isn’t this what you wanted?”

“N-no,” you whimper, but bite your lip hard, and your chest rises and falls rapidly.

“You don’t like being watched?”

“You know I don’t,” your voice comes out soft, but there’s an edge there that only makes Akashi’s mouth twitch, as he forces you to uncross your legs. He starts work there too, peeling off your shorts down beautiful smooth thighs. The noiret tries to stop himself from watching so intently, he truly does, because it’s clear you hate every second that he stares. But — fuck, your little whimpers are making his heart race. He’s just a guy, and the stress, and flood of adrenaline is betraying him now. Once your shorts and panties are off, Akashi just watches for a moment, and you take a deep breath. “You can’t bully into it, Seijuro.”

He barely reacts. Brushes his rough thumbs along your tits and over your nipples, and pushes you back on the bed. “Shhh. We’re having a moment, baby. I didn’t want to do this, you know?” Akashi speaks like he’s cherishing you with his lips hovering yours, nudging your one thigh apart to make room for his hand as he runs two fingers along your slit. “But you make me. You’re just a stupid, dumb girl acting out because you want to be reminded of who you belong to, hm?” You shiver, and he spits onto his hand to start grinding his rough palm against your pussy as you close your eyes.

“No. No, I don-”

“No? You did this with Aomine,” he sighs, working two of his thick fingers inside you and you wiggle and hide your face into your shoulder, “and you did this with Kise too. But you’re still here. You just like getting your pussy fucked hard when you make me mad. Say it.”

“Ah- Seijuro, I-” His fingers curl in you, and your back lifts off the bed as your mouth opens into a silent moan. “Ah, ah— I like getting my pussy- fucked h-hard,” your voice is barely a whimper, but it’s quiet in the room save for everyone’s labored breathing as the slick sound of your pussy gets messier and louder. As you’re curling your hips onto his hand and resisting the urge to really fuck yourself onto his fingers, he pulls his shirt over his head and reveals the hard on covered by flimsy basketball shorts— and you let out a squeak. “Seijuro, ‘juro, I feel- mh-” You can’t even string a proper sentence together as he grunts, and traps your poor clit against the fleshy part of his palm.

“You should apologize for using Mibuchi,” Akashi softly says, a faint little grin on his lips that shows the glee in his eyes even more. “Go on.”

“But I— I didn’t use- ah, ahh-fuck.” Your wetness is glistening every time Akashi pulls his hand back and forces long fingers back in you- and you stuff the fabric of the gag back between your lips just to bite it hard as your tits are squeezed and he pinches your clit until your thighs shake. Then you cry, and open teary eyes to the man still frozen at the end of the bed. He doesn’t want you to look. To notice the shame pooling in his gut. “‘M sorry for using you.” Your snively look is too much.

Akashi hikes one of your thighs to your chest as he pulls his cock out and only shakes his head a little in disbelief, before lining up and pushing the drooling, red head in one hard pump inside. You whine out, and he licks his teeth as he grabs your throat and squeezes. “Needy fucking bitch. If you want to get your cunt fucked harder, you- should-” Each thrust slaps hard against your skin and hikes you further up, tits bouncing as your hands grab his forearms. “learn- to ask. Now Mibuchi will have to fuck his fist thinking of you, hm? Your- ugh- fault.”

His cock grinds deep inside your belly, hitting that spot good enough that you can’t open your eyes. Your ring glitters like your slicked pussy does, and the silvery tears on your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you shake your head and sob, biting down on your puffy lips hard and clinging on. You look sorry. But with each thrust and squelch of your pussy taking Akashi as deep as you can, that look gets a little more faded. Maybe you're good at forgiving and forgetting.

You certainly look it.

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2023. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

TAKE OFF, TAKE OFF, TAKE OFF ALL YOUR CLOTHES

CHAPTER SUMMARY: It's Chigiri's birthday and everyone decides it's a perfect day to go to the nearby village to shop for secret santa gifts! Will you be able to get through one day without bickering with your ex?

ex-fiancé!rin x f!reader

WARNINGS : 18+, alcohol consumption, hate sex? + love making, dry humping, mutual pining, no prep, vaginal sex, premature ejaculation, creampie, fingering, oral, mattress humping, tit sucking, multiple rounds?, overstimulation, squirting, choking, praise, dacryphilia, pet names (princess, baby).

WORDS : 12.2k

notes : It's MY birthday too btw hehe wanted Chigiri to be the readers bestie bc he's my birthday twin oops enjoy the fic tho ♡

       LAST CHAPTER┊MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

Daybreak filters through the window as your eyes begrudgingly flutter open. It seems like both you and Chigiri had forgotten to close the curtains before you passed out drunk and stoned. The mattress beneath you feels like a cloud as you stretch out; your hand comes into contact with cold, fair skin.

You blink the sleep from your eyes when you recall that Hyoma seldom sleeps without a shirt.

And your blood runs cold.

It all comes rushing back to you, then. That crushing conversation with Rin you’d had last night that made you sob and search for your best friend, leaving him alone so you could preserve his enjoyment of the evening.

“Eita.” you whisper, attempting to shake him awake.

He knocked on your door, offered you weed, and you couldn’t bring yourself to decline. Not when you were so lonely, so filled with envy and loathing as you dredged over each painful word your ex shared with you on his balcony.

“Mmpf, w’time is it?” Eita grumbles, feeling around for his phone until he finds it. “Eugh, it’s so early…”

“You have to go.” you tell him, lightly slapping him until he pays attention to you. You get out of bed and are met with the freezing air filling the room. He doesn’t listen, but he watches you with one eye slightly open as you rush to turn on the heater to warm up the room. You freeze as you look at him again, wondering why he’s shirtless if it’s so cold. “Eita… did we…”

“Mm.” he grunts, closing his eyes again. You jump onto the mattress beside him, really shaking him so he can’t possibly ignore you. “Woah, what is it?”

“We fucked?” you ask him, panicking.

“No way.” he shakes his head. “Don’t fuck drunk ‘n high girls.” he assures you.

You breathe a sigh of relief as you lie back beside him. It’s stupid to worry about Rin anymore, but you can’t help it. He said he wouldn’t care if you fucked the whole house, but did he really mean it? It seems like a violation, to you, breaking bro code or something. And, honestly, you don’t think it would reflect well on you either.

The last thing you wanted to do was cause an uproar when you’re here for a few more days.

“Eita? What happened last night?” you wonder, quietly, unsure if you want the answer.

You might not have had sex, but that doesn’t mean something else didn’t happen. If you kissed, you certainly don’t remember it. The possibilities are endless, and it makes your blood reach the same chilling temperature that fills the room.

“We jus’ smoked, baby,” he tells you, rolling over on his stomach to look at you. He’s pretty, like this. He’s pretty anyway. But the pinks and yellows breaching through the blinds softens him immensely. “You cried a lot. About Rin. ‘n then you passed out.” he closes his eyes to sleep some more.

How utterly humiliating.

Though you don’t really have time to dwell as you see him trying to sneakily sleep beside you again. You lightly tap his face, yanking the duvet away from him to reveal his toned back muscles.

He’s still wearing his jeans from the party.

“I don’t know where Chigiri is, but if anyone sees you in here, they’re gonna get the wrong idea,” you whisper, and he grunts. He takes his time, but eventually, gets up in search of his shirt and shoes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lead you on or anything.”

“It’s okay,” he smiles back at you over his shoulder as he shoves his feet into his sneakers. “You want Rin back, yeah?”

“I—” you hesitate. Do you want him back? You still stand by the reasons you decided to end things, after all. But so many feelings have come rushing back since seeing him in the flesh again. You were missing him already before you even got here. And now, you’re so close but so far. And even further now that he’s seeing someone new.

Do you really want him back?

Or do you just want what you can’t have?

“Either way, you don’t need me right now.” he tells you, pulling his shirt over his head. “Your loss, by the way.” he laughs.

“Hah, really?” you laugh too.

“Big time, I’m definitely a better fuck than Itoshi. Both of them,” he winks, biting his lip before heading for the door. “If you change your mind, I’ll be around.” he salutes before sneaking out and shutting the door behind him.

The cold air hits you like a brick as you run to lock the door after him, but you hurry back to warmth soon after. You starfish in the bed when you realise you have the space to yourself again, and your eyes slowly close. A few more minutes sleep won’t hurt, right? No one else seems to be awake yet.

He didn’t even tell you what time it is.

You roll over and grab your phone from the side table and wince when you see that it’s only 8am. It’s sickening, so much so that you practically throw your phone back down and get in a comfortable position to sleep.

It’s short lived, though, you get fifteen minutes of resting your eyes at most before you hear knocking at the door.

It makes you grumble, like a man. Like your dad specifically. It horrifies you enough to make you stir and clamber out of bed. It’s grotesque, you think, inheriting such an uncouth trait.

You’ll have to train yourself out of it.

You unlock the door, and you aren’t sure why you’re surprised to see Chigiri step through. He stares at you silently as you lock the door again, he doesn’t even follow you into bed when you cover your barely clothed limbs.

“Something happened last night.” he tells you, looking worried.

“What?” you wonder. “What did you do?”

He looks so serious, and it makes your heart race. Did you do something embarrassing? Probably, but that isn’t anything new. His silence makes your body flush with warmth. The nerves and anxiety you feel begin to course through every nerve ending you possess, and soon enough you’re throwing the blankets away from your body.

He looks into your eyes before thinking about what he should say. And after losing all composure, he starts laughing. “Nothing, just wanted to see what it feels like to be you for a second.” he smirks, “You do that shit everyday? Exhausting.”

“You’re such a dick.” you chastise him, getting comfy in the bed again. And now, finally, he joins you. “Have you got a hangover?”

“Big time.” he tells you. You grab some painkillers from your side table and pop out enough from the silvery film for you and Chigiri to consume. “Something happened last night, right?” he asks.

“Don’t get me started.” you sigh.

“I came up here to come to bed, the door was locked.” he tells you, “So I woke up with Tabito on the couch, Sae on the floor and Oliver on the coffee table.”

You laugh, rolling on your side so you can face each other and gossip. The state everyone is in today is no surprise. Though you suspect the only one not nursing a hangover is probably Rin. You didn’t see him drink all that much, and he doesn’t get high.

He’s probably doing his morning routine right now.

A routine he got you into when you first started dating. You wanted to impress him, after all. But his yoga routines are far out of your league. You used to end up giggling on your back after a fall while he laughed along with you.

But you liked doing the meditation afterwards.

“Rin almost kissed me last night, I think…” you contemplate it, though you admittedly aren’t sure if it’s a fabrication. “It was really intense, but he rejected me.”

“Damn.” he replies, “Wait, so you were in here alone? Why did you lock the door?!”

“Eita spent the night…” you sigh, covering your face with your pillow. Chigiri teases you, trying to pull it away to inspect your facial expressions. He’s laughing, loudly, unable to believe what he’s hearing. “He told me that we just got high, and I cried about Rin.” you confess.

“You are floundering.” he tells you, and you nod. “He’s into you, you’re into him, Ryusei made him sound like a major player so he’s probably a good fuck. Rin gave you your answer, you should have sealed the deal!” he continues, and all you can do is groan. Because he’s right.

How long is it going to take to get over Rin, anyway? Why should you spare his feelings when he clearly has no desire to do the same for you?

Eita isn’t what you want right now, though.

His pretty face and his alleged impeccable stroke game isn’t going to change that.

“Rin was jealous last night.” Chigiri admits, and it grabs your attention instantly. “Ryusei was, too. But Rin was really jealous.”

“Really?”

He nods, “When you were dancing with Eita, I was trying to keep an eye on him.” you get comfortable and make full eye contact with him again as he speaks. “While we were playing never have I ever, too. When Eita and Oliver were all over you, he looked pissed.”

“Interesting…”

“His girlfriend’s gotta be a rebound.” he theorizes, and for whatever reason, it gives you chills. Both of your eyes widen at the same time, and no doubt you’ve arrived at the same idea. “We need to get more info.”

“Ryusei wants to talk to me at some point, I’ll ask him.” you tell Hyoma, and he nods, concurring that it’s a good idea. “You need to talk to Sae. He might know something.”

“He didn’t even know Rin was coming,” Chigiri rolls his eyes, but relents. “Fine.”

--

The two of you go downstairs, surprisingly greeted by everyone else. Everyone’s crowded around the kitchen island again. The smell of bacon, eggs and toast floods your nostrils as you descend and reach the kitchen.

You sit in between Oliver and Chigiri, the former not paying you too much attention other than a polite hello. Ryusei catches your eye as he tilts his head, waving when you finally make eye contact. His face looks serious, intentional, he’s waiting for that talk you silently agreed to.

“Surprised you’re cooking for us all, Rin.” Hyoma speaks, resting his elbow on the countertop before settling his head in his hand.

“Yeah, well,” he speaks quietly but with a slight gruffness. “It’s fine.”

He carefully sets down two plates in front of you all. Eita and Ryusei are already eating, so Oliver reaches for the nearest plate. Rin scowls at him, harshly trapping his hand between the plate and the spatula he’s holding.

“That’s not for you.” Rin tells him, and he moves his hand. You watch him as he pushes the plate in your direction, looking at you briefly before he looks back at Oliver. “Here.” he continues, pushing the other plate towards his hungry friend.

Hyoma is thankful that Rin seems too preoccupied trying to shield his face from you to notice how his eyes have widened and he can’t control the smirk on his face. You haven’t noticed, either, but Sae raises a suspicious eyebrow as he looks at your best friend. Though, luckily, he doesn’t comment on it.

You look down at the plate, realising why he wanted you to have this plate. He’s cut your toast into triangles how he knows you like, and they are the perfect shade of golden brown with butter dreamily melting into it. He cut the fat off your bacon and fried it until it was crispy.

You look at Oliver’s plate, seeing how little care have gone into the eggs. The yolks are messy and broken, whereas yours are perfect.

“Thank you, Rinni— Rin.” you smile, picking up your cutlery as you start to dig in. He doesn’t say anything, he just smiles weakly as he nods. He washes his hands in the sink as his brother places a plate down in front of Chigiri. He sits opposite to him with a plate of his own.

Your smile fades as you watch Rin walk away without sitting down with a plate of his own.

“Where’re you going?” Ryusei asks, cheeks full of food as he talks.

“Not hungry.” he responds, retreating upstairs.

You sigh, losing your appetite despite the food looking so perfectly appealing. Hyoma leans over to you, whispering that you need to eat as he watches you play with your food. He’s right, as usual, so you force yourself to take a few bites. Your eyes meet Ryusei’s as you look up, and you see an expression of concern and worry on his face.

It forces you to continue eating. You don’t want to worry everyone, after all.

But you yourself are worried about Rin.

He could be telling the truth, of course. It’s possible that he really isn’t hungry. But what if it’s your fault? Maybe he can’t stomach the idea of being around you. Eating around you. He might not even want to breathe the same air as you after last night.

Breakfast… he made it for you specifically, though.

Why would he do that if he hated you so much?

“He’s almost finished eating,” Hyoma whispers, gesturing to Shidou’s plate. “Eat your food, pull him aside, and I’ll see if I can find out anything from Sae.” he continues.

You take a few more bites and push your plate aside. Chigiri waits for you to do as he had told you, but you whisper to him instead.

“Why do you think Rin isn’t eating?” you ask, “I should make him breakfast since he did the same for me!” you smile, excitedly.

“Aw!” he smiles back, a little too widely to be sincere. “Your cooking is disgusting. You’re trying to get him back, not kill him.”

“Oh my God it isn’t that ba—”

“Hey, didn’t you need to talk to Shidou about something?” he says, loudly, pulling everyone’s attention from their food to look at your exchange. No one is more captivated than Shidou himself, however, who picks up both of your plates and moves them closer to the sink. “I’ll wash up, dude, don’t worry.” Chigiri says as he stands to his feet, shooting you a final, warning glare before walking to the sink.

You smile at Ryusei, leading him over to the empty lounge. He lights the wood logs in the fireplace after seeing your skin break out in goosebumps. The couch feels tight as you sit together, despite being so far apart. His arm rests over the back while he rests an ankle on his knee, and you’re sitting cross-legged with your back against the furniture’s arm.

It’s awkward.

There’s an obvious tension that you don’t feel qualified to break. He’s formulating words, you can see him thinking of what to say since he’s older and should therefore be more mature. He’s the one who hurt you, unintentionally of course, so he should try and alleviate this heavy feeling of unease.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he starts. “If I did anything to give you the wrong idea… I’m sorry.”

“No, I was being a brat, I’m sorry.” you tell him, trying your best to not let your bruised ego interfere with a friendship you do value wholeheartedly. “You were right, I was hurting and then I lashed out because I was embarrassed.”

“You know I’d fuck you in a heartbeat if you weren’t Rin’s girl, yeah?” he laughs, tilting your head up by the chin with his finger as he urges you to look at him. “I know you aren’t together, but it’s a red line to me.”

“I understand…” you nod, “Are you going to tell him?”

He shakes his head, “There’s nothing to tell. Nothin’ happened.” he smiles at you. He pulls you into his arms and hugs you tightly. It makes you giggle; you can’t help yourself. Ryusei always seems to make you feel lighter whenever you talk to him.

He’s sweet.

Really sweet.

And often times, severely misunderstood. You’ve known him since he was young, he’s thirty, now. You remember meeting him when you hadn’t been with Rin for too long. He told you about how they’d fight, physically. He told you he was crazy and unhinged, this that and the other.

But you got to know him, you suppose.

You got to see a softer side of him and one that cares deeply. And he does care for you, even still. He’ll care about you for as long as he lives, you can see it plainly as he holds you in his arms, looking up into his eyes.

He looks at you like you’re his everything, sometimes.

You melt into his arms when you hear him lightly sniff your strawberry scented hair, it makes him hold you tighter. His head drops, levelling his mouth with your ear.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” he wonders.

You stiffen, and he feels it. He rubs your shoulders lightly with his thumbs, encouraging you to share in your own time. Whether it’s now, or in an hour.

He’s got you.

“Rin— His… girlfriend,” you gulp, fighting tears as they threaten to form and douse your cheeks for the second day in a row. “Do you know anything?”

“I know the same as you,” he confesses, feeling a pang on guilt in his heart as he hears you sigh in disappointment. “You ended things, baby, are ya jealous?”

“I’m starting to think I made a mistake…” you admit, looking into his eyes. “Help me, Ryu, please. I want to know if there’s still a chance with him.”

He just huffs and shrugs his shoulders.

Realistically there’s not much he can do to help. And you know that. You know how stubborn Rin can be, and what’s worse, he’s so private about his personal life. It used to be you that he was so secretive about. The only pictures on his Instagram profile were ones of you and him.

Just two pictures.

One of your birthday.

Another of your engagement.

They’re both gone, now. It breaks your heart to think about. He might replace them one day with photos of her. The thought of another woman wearing his grandmother’s ring makes anxiety surge through your nerve endings. Your body eases, though, when you feel Ryusei’s protective hold get stronger.

“I’ll find out what I can for you…” he whispers, “Just don’t get your hopes up.”

You nod, closing your eyes peacefully when you feel him place a delicate kiss into your temple. Chigiri looks over at you, shrugging, as if he’s asking for news. But you just shake your head, leaving both of you disappointed.

--

“Sae doesn’t know anything either.” Chigiri tells you now that you’re finally alone together again in the room you’re sharing. You grunt as you sit down on the bed with him, pouting that your little scheme has failed before it even took flight. “Are we giving up?”

“I guess, what else can we do?” you sigh. It was a noble thought that you’d be able to get some information and find a way to get your fairytale ending, but this is real life. Of course that wasn’t an option. “Anyway, it’s your birthday tomorrow. We should be focusing on that. Sae said he wanted to plan something.”

“We talked about it last night… he suggested going to one of the bars in town.” he explains. “Maybe we could do the secret Santa shopping too. Who did you get?” he wonders.

“Um…” you get off the bed, moving a few things around in the room as you try and recall where you left the jagged piece of cardboard with your recipient’s name written on. You find it in a crumpled pile of last night’s clothes and panties, handing it to Chigiri to read.

“Sae! At least you know him well enough to get something for him.” he smiles, giving it back to you.

“I was hoping I’d get you or Ryusei to be honest… or, never mind.” you speak quietly, regretting wanting to bring Rin up again when you’d tried to change the subject in the first place. “Who did you get?” you wonder.

He smirks, pulling his own piece of cardboard out of his pocket before showing it to you. Your face drops, and he can’t help but laugh, sticking his tongue out as he waves it around teasingly.

Rin.

“Give me it.” you demand. You reach out to grab it, but he snatches it from your reach. “Fucking give me it!” you leap on him, fighting with him as he carries on keeping it away from you.

“You fucking psycho!” he laughs, losing the upper hand as he lowers his hands to hold his aching stomach. “I was gonna give it to you anyway, idiot.”

“This is a gamechanger.” you smile, triumphantly holding the bent and torn piece of cardboard. “He almost kissed me. He was jealous. He made me breakfa—”

“He made everyone breakfast.”

“We’ve got history!” you steal the conversation back from him as he interrupts you, glaring at him with a new determination in your eyes. He watches you as you speak, knowing that you’re definitely onto something. There is so much history between you. And if you can pull of a simple, romantic gesture, he might bare his heart to you again. “Good things always happen on your birthday. I’m more excited than usual.”

“Because it’s my special day and you love me, right?” he rolls his eyes. “Not because you’re scheming to get your ex back.”

“I’m very excited for your special day and I love you very much, Chigs.” you laugh, chubbing his cheeks as you bend down from where you’re standing to tease him. “I’ll give up after this, for real. If he doesn’t want me, fine! But I think there’s still a chance…”

You aren’t sure if that’s entirely true though.

Maybe it’s your imagination.

Maybe it’s just hope.

--

“Who’s gonna be the designated drivers?” Karasu wonders, scanning around the room as he contemplates who will fill the roles. “We’ll need two, minimum.”

“I don’t mind staying sober.” you pipe up, shrugging and smiling happily. You got wasted on your first night here and, honestly, your stomach is still raw. You look upstairs as you hear a creak of the wood floor, the only person not present is the birthday boy himself. So, your face lights up, eager to finally see him and give him his gifts. “It’s Hyoma’s birthday, so he isn’t driving, decide the rest amongst yourselves.” you tell them as you stand up and rush towards your shared room.

The guys nod, all looking at each other as they try and come to a decision.

“I don’t care.” Rin announces, taking a drink of his coffee. “I’ll drive.”

“We should have one more to be safe,” Sae suggests, and they all groan, disappointed that Rin hadn’t gotten them all off the hook. It’s a choice between five, and none of them seem willing to be gracious enough to offer. “Fine. Let’s draw straws.”

You knock on the door to your room before entering immediately after, a wide grin sprawled across your face.

“Good morning! Happy birthday~!” you squeal, rushing over to your best friend to give him a tight, loving squeeze. He laughs, thanking you gratefully. He watches you as you grab the tall bag full of gifts and hand it to him. “If there’s anything you don’t like, jus’ lemme know and we can return or exchange!” you tell him, and he nods.

Though, as expected, your taste is perfect.

He pulls out each meticulously wrapped gift and is happy with each and every item you’ve gotten him. You’ve gotten the perfect mix of presents for him. Some clothes, accessories, and jewellery you were certain he’d like.

“This must have cost a fortune, you didn’t have to spend so much y’know.” he smiles, happily, holding a designer sweater you’d gotten him with an intricate design. You think nothing of it, though. If you could buy gifts for your atrocious little step siblings, you didn’t mind doing the same for your best friend. “I might wear this today!”

“You should! We’ve just been picking designated drivers.” you inform him. “I’m not drinking tonight, but I told them you aren’t driving since it’s your special day.”

“You aren’t?”

“I want a clear head today… it’s gonna be a long day.” you explain, and he nods. “We’ll probably be leaving soon so we should start getting dressed.” you tell him, standing up and crumpling all of the wrapping paper into a ball. You toss it aside before you decide to sit and start getting ready again.

“I’m gonna say good morning to everyone.” he smiles, waving.

You’re alone in the room, now, thinking about what’s to come. You don’t know how you should wear your hair or do your makeup. You aren’t sure how to dress comfortably for a shopping day whilst simultaneously looking hot enough to go for drinks and party after.

There’s an unnecessary pressure you’re letting weigh down on you. You want to impress Rin. You want to leave an impression. It’s silly, really. He knows you through and through. Every deep, saccharine inch of you, better than anyone else ever will. But here you are, preening yourself for his benefit more than your own.

It feels somewhat in vain, deep down.

Why are you trying to put on a mask for a man that knows you so, so intimately?

--

“You look really good,” Chigiri comments, leaning across the centre console to whisper in hushed tones. You offer a giddy, accomplished smile as you thank him, Eita and Oliver agree with him as they seem to overhear even over the pop music blasting through the speakers.

Cosy was the right move when you decided on your look for the day, though you may look like you’re heading for a day on some ski slopes rather than shopping and partying.

You’re dressed head to toe in white. Earmuffs, fuzzy coat and boots, and a skin tight jumpsuit. You even have white mittens ready to wear when you get out of the car.

“So… we’re splitting up. Looking for gifts. And then meeting at the bar in a few hours?” you ask the boys, who all nod.

“I already know what I’m getting so I’ll be going straight to the bar when I’m done.” Eita announces.

“Me too.” Oliver tells him, laughing.

You shake your head as you watch them joke around like kids, but with a joyous smile on your face. They must have something simple and generic in mind to be able to purchase their gifts to quickly. Though, knowing them, it’s probably alcohol.

There are butterflies in your stomach as you approach the nearby village town, you look into the rearview mirror to see Rin is still following closely behind.

You wonder how frustrated he is with Ryusei annoying him in the passenger seat.

You take a deep breath as you park, watching him pull up beside you. Everyone gets out quickly, eager to stretch their legs after the thirty-minute drive. You sigh as Rin walks away rapidly; his face buried in his phone without even bothering to say goodbye.

Chigiri shrugs at you, and everyone disperses through the village in different directions.

“I don’t even know where to start…” you confess, looking between each of the cutesy looking stores.

You enter a few, browsing, hoping something will leap out at you. An accessory you know he might like or maybe even a keepsake that might remind him of you whenever he sees it. But it starts to feel hopeless after you leave the 7th little shop you come across.

Otoya and Karasu pass by you, laughing as you enter while they’re leaving.

You dread to think what they’ve bought.

“I bet they’ve bought dirty magazines or something stupid.” Chigiri suspects, shaking his head in amusement as he thinks about how loud they were laughing. You grin, thinking about how the other guys would react to receiving such a scandalous, silly gift.

You try a few more places, and even revisit some others. But you’re about ready to give up as time keeps going on and on. Hyoma hasn’t had much luck finding something for the elder Itoshi sibling, either.

You’re both close to just buying some local sweets and calling it a day.

“Well this has been a disaster,” you huff, “So much for this being a gamechanger!”

“We haven’t been down here yet.” he points to an alleyway with a few more stores.

You enter through the hefty double doors of one, observing what kinds of things they have on the shelves. You’re both immediately excited when you realise you’re in a charity shop. You’re all too familiar with some of the treasures some people give away, some of your favourite outfits are things you’ve found through being thrifty.

“Oh this is perfect!” you beam, looking through each shelf at all of the little trinkets. Chigiri separates from you as he starts sifting through the clothes, wondering if he can find a novelty shirt of some kind as gag gift.

“There are DVDs over here, maybe we should get some to watch if we get bored?” he suggests. “They’re so cheap.”

“Oh cool!” you smile, approaching him to look through the selection together. “Ah! Oh my God, get this for Sae!” you tell him as you pull a DVD down from the shelf and hand it to him. “It’s his favourite!”

“Taxi Driver? Okay.” he scoffs, but keeps hold of it. At the very least, he knows Sae will definitely like it. Though he’s sure if it’s his favourite he probably already owns it in some form. “I’ve never seen it.”

“Every time he tried to make us watch it, I always fell asleep.” you giggle. Your eyes scan across the DVDs as you carry on walking through the shop. And then you realise you’ve walked too far when you see the spines change in height and width. “Oh, CDs!” you speak excitedly as you look through all of the old bands and albums on the shelves.

You grimace in confusion as your eyes settle on a familiar album amongst all of the other more obscure ones. Surely not, you think. But you place your finger on the top and wiggle it out from being suffocated between the rest.

“Hyoma!” you squeal, flipping it for him to see. His eyes drop to see Lana’s Lust for Life album in your hand. He seems confused, though, as his eyes flit between yours and the CD you’re holding. “It’s a sign!”

“Is it?” he asks, sceptically.

“Yes! He got me this on vinyl for my birthday a few years ago!” you explain, and he looks sympathetic rather than supportive. “I— am I being stupid? I was thinking it might remind him of us.”

“No, no, it’s a good idea.” he tells you, holding your shoulders supportively. “Let’s go pay and get to the bar.” he continues, holding a few DVDs in his hands.

You grab your purse, offering to cover everything as the cashier helps you bag everything and rings you up. It’s cheap, and yet, you feel accomplished. You were starting to doubt whether you’d actually be able to find anything for him. If Chigiri hadn’t pointed this place out, you’d be giving him a poxy box of sweets on Christmas morning.

Although, the sweets might be a nice additional gift.

~

The guys slowly but surely begin filtering into the bar with their shopping bags. You’ve been here with Chigiri for a little while, but Oliver, Tabito and Eita were the first ones here when you arrived.

Ryusei sits down beside you when he comes in next, and Rin isn’t far behind him. Everyone cheers when Sae comes in last, and you can’t help but notice everyone’s shopping bags seem to look similar in some way or another.

“The shops are so dead.” Sae tells you all, and everyone happens to agree.

You aren’t sure what they all expected, though. It’s a small village town in the middle of nowhere. It’s not like you’re in a bustling city with anything and everything at your fingertips. It made shopping more fun, you thought. It gave you the opportunity to really look around until you found something special.

“I’ll get drinks,” Rysuei announces as he stands up. He makes a mental note of what everyone wants, knowing he’ll probably forget when he goes to the bar.

“Move down, Rin, I need to talk to Ryusei.” Sae instructs his little brother. Rin looks at Ryusei’s empty seat, and then at you. It makes your heart race when his pretty teal eyes meet yours. He looks worried, for some reason, but masks it well as he shuffles from his seat to the one closer to you.

Your eyes wander as they meet Sae’s, and he winks at you casually.

Hyoma never did tell you what he and Sae talked about, only that he couldn’t get any information, either. But from this simple act, it seems Hyoma has revealed your true feelings for his brother to him.

And you’re happy.

Because this small gesture indicates that you have his support.

You don’t say anything, not right away, as he settles down beside you. You’re surprised he isn’t toying with his phone like he has been endlessly since he got here. It makes your throat tighten to think he might be doing it so that you don’t see his texts with his new girlfriend.

“How did shopping go?” you ask him, hoping to break the ice and stop yourself from spiralling about a woman you don’t even know the name of.

“Fine, I think,” he tells you. “I think everyone’s gonna be disappointed with what they get.”

“I don’t know… it’s part of the fun.” you reply. “If we wanted to go all out, we would have planned to do this before we got here so we could order perfect, expensive things. But having a little budget and no idea was a change of pace.”

“What did you buy?” he wonders.

“I got some sweets to eat when we get back.” you smile. It makes him smile, too, causing you to giggle like a schoolgirl. You hadn’t expected to see his face change like that because of something you said. It’s warm, thawing away at your frozen heart.

“Happy birthday, Chigiri.” Ryusei says as he gives your best friend his drink first. You already know that Hyoma isn’t going to have to pay for a single drink himself while he’s here, it’s everyone’s birthday offering to him. Rin doesn’t pay Ryusei any mind as he sits down in his previous seat, too busy focusing on chatting with you.

It makes you feel special.

It makes you feel wanted.

“Rin?” you whisper, leaning over to him. He looks at you, a serious expression on his face as he senses your desperation. You’re trying not to be so needy, but you just can’t help it. “… I’m glad you decided to come along.”

It’s not what you wanted to say and not what he expected to hear. Although, you aren’t sure what you actually do want to say to him. Telling him you still harbour feelings will surely only end in tears when you know you can’t have him.

He isn’t yours anymore.

“Yeah? Well, it hasn’t been as painful as I expected it to be.” he tells you. And even that, such a simple, sulky sentence makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Maybe it’s because you know it’s oh so quintessentially Rin Itoshi. “You did scare me, when I saw you on the stairs.”

“You scared me too…” you admit. “I—”

“It happened, it’s fine. We’re fine.” he tells you, taking a sip of the lemonade Ryusei had ordered for him. You decided to stick to water, the freezing ice cubes bump against your lips as you drink heartily. “I heard Otoya go into your room the other night. After we— talked.”

“Nothing happened…” you respond, drinking more water to cover how your expression fills with shame and regret. He nods, understanding. “S-So, your girlfriend. Tell me about her…” you ask, reluctantly. And you’re a little surprised when he shakes his head.

“I’m not doing this,” he speaks. “We’re fine. I’m being civil. You aren’t entitled to know about my personal life just because I’m tolerating you.”

“Tolerating me? Really?”

“Yes, tolerating you.” he continues. “You lost the right to know about me when you left.”

“God, Rin, I barely knew you then.” you huff, crossing one leg over the other as you slightly angle your back to him. He puts his arm around the back of your seat and positions himself awful close. It startles you when you turn back to face him.

“What are you talking about?” he asks.

“You were so distant. All you cared about was football.” you inform him, doing your best to keep your voice lowered so that you don’t make a scene. The last thing you wanted was to ruin your best friend’s birthday because you had a momentary lapse of judgement.

Maybe exes are exes for a reason.

“Because it’s my job? My career.”

“And I have a career too, but I still remembered to ask how your day was. You stopped talking to me unless it was about our schedules.”

“You—” he huffs, moving away from you. You’re a little taken aback when he stands up with the intention of leaving. He pulls out some money and tells Hyoma to get himself a drink, on him, as a birthday gift.

Everyone looks a little lost for words when he ups and leaves. But then there’s a sigh of relief when they remembered they appointed Karasu to be another designated driver.

It’s not sitting right with you, though.

It almost felt like you were close to a breakthrough. You were getting into the nitty gritty of why your relationship fell apart in the first place, and, as usual, he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. You gather your things and decide to chase after him, knowing you can’t leave things like this.

You won’t even be able to call yourselves friends if you don’t figure this out.

“You’re stalking me, now?” Rin chuckles as he ducks into Sae’s car and locks the door. You try knocking on the window for him to let you in, but you’re speechless when he just drives off instead.

You fumble with the keys to Chigiri’s car until you manage to unlock it.

He’s not running away from you again.

--

As much as he wanted to break the speed limit to escape you, there was no point. You knew he was heading home so you’d find him eventually. Besides, he didn’t want to risk either of you slipping on the ice and winding up dead.

So he kept to a steady pace, enjoying the thirty minutes of peace on the drive down to the cabin before what he could only assume would be a shouting match between the two of you.

“Rin!” you yell as you get out of the car, slamming the door. It would make him laugh if he wasn’t so frustrated, you always did prove him right about things like this. He gets out of Sae’s car and slams the door, not even bothering to look at you as he walks up the stairs to the cabin.

He unlocks the door with ease before strutting in. It’s hard to keep up with his long strides, especially in the wet, slippery snow. You do what you can to speed after him, even taking the stairs two at a time so that you can get inside quicker.

You spot him in the kitchen as if nothing had happened. He’s standing by the kettle as he boils some water to make tea. He looks at you, casually, before looking back at the steam gently rising through the spout.

“You’re so childish? How didn’t I realise how fucking childish you are on top of everything?!” you shout as you walk over to the platform that separates the kitchen from the entryway. He still looks intent on keeping his mouth shut. And it’s making you crazy. “Will you say something?”

“What do you want?” he retorts, instantly. He looks at you briefly before pouring the water into a novelty Christmas mug. It’s tacky and hideous and you’re sure he hates it, but it must have been the first thing he saw to use. He leans back against the counter behind him while he uses a spoon to press the flavour from the tea bag.

“I— tell me you hate me, call me a bitch, I don’t know!” you demand. “I hate this tension, Rinnie, because every time I think things are okay, you freeze up and it’s—”

“I can’t tell if you’re… joking?” he smirks. “You, literally, broke my heart with no explanation. I’ve spent months trying to move on and then you show up out of nowhere and you’re trying to be best friends. I don’t want to be friends with you.”

“So what do you want?!”

“I want you to leave me alone.” he raises his voice, and it’s harsh. But instead of hurting you, it makes you angrier. You blood boils as you round the counter to get closer to him as he speaks. He puts down the tea he made as you get closer, using hand gestures wildly as he talks to get his point across. “You shouldn’t have come here. Because you shouldn’t have been keeping in touch with my family after we broke up. It’s such a fucking red line, it’s violating.”

“Oh, well, fuck me for wanting to know how you’re doing after everything. You know, since you completely cut me off. I was worried and you wouldn’t even text me to tell you when you were coming to get your stuff!”

“This is your problem,” he wags his finger with a smile before holding it to his lips as he thinks of how to tell you exactly how he feels. “You’re so fucking entitled. I’m being nice to you after you hurt me, and you think you deserve to know me again.”

“No, this is your problem!” you bite back, walking away from him before closing the gap again. You look up at him with watery eyes as he towers over you. Your heart aches as you feel the distance between you expand the more you talk about the past. But it has to happen. Even if you lose him forever, you can’t carry all of this pain with you forever. “You shut people out when they care! I want you to be happy and I want us to be friends, but you won’t talk to me! I broke up with you because when you were neglecting me, I felt lonelier than I did when I was actually alone.”

“I didn’t neglect you, I loved you. What was really the problem? Huh?” he asks, getting closer to you. And you have to crane your neck just to keep eye contact with him. He can’t ignore how glittery your eyes are as you hold back tears. You’re covering your sadness with rage, that much is clear to him. But he doesn’t want to stop. Not now, not when you’ve driven him to the point of no return with your incessant complaints. “I was too busy for you, yeah? You didn’t miss me, missed me taking you on fancy dates so you had something to brag about on Instagram.”

“… fuck you.” you say, quietly, your voice gets trapped in your throat as you try and figure out how to pull away from this confrontation with your dignity intact. It’s too late though. He’s already witnessed a lone tear fall down your cheek. “Do you hate me that much? Do you think that little of me?”

He doesn’t.

“Princess…” he sighs, tilting your head up with his thumb and forefinger so that you’re fixated on his eyes. Teal whirlpools with flecks of turquoise that create a scintillating visage that cannot be described by a mere mortal. No, they are deep lagoons that you want to drown in. They soften as he names you the only way you’d want to be named by him. Not your birth name, but as royalty. His princess. “I don’t think about you at all.”

Your heart shatters and he sees so clearly how your vision breaks. Should you keep looking at him or somewhere else entirely. His face is stoic, as usual, though he cups your face like you’re precious. Like you are the princess you want to believe you are, for him.

The energy in your body has depleted and you can’t even bring yourself to push him away. All you have is words. And, even then, you’re drawing a blank. So you sink, deep. Lower than the depths of hell to truly muster three little words you simply don’t mean.

“I hate you.”

He doesn’t react, not fully. But the colour of his eyes dull as the words reach his ears.

“I fucking despise you.” he retorts.

You do nought but stare.

Both of you.

You just stand there, indignantly staring into each other’s eyes as you process the situation. Your chest heaves and your body trembles with fury. You didn’t mean it, not really. In this moment, you suppose you do hate him a little. But you’ll never know if Rin means it.

Part of you assumes he’s only saying it to hurt you like you hurt him. He said what you said but increased the severity of his words just to twist the knife into your bloodied heart. But maybe he does truly feel this way. Maybe he’s felt nothing but disdain towards you since you broke up with him all of those months ago.

Why would he feel anything positive when it comes to you?

Especially since he’s moved on.

“I hate you, Rinnie…” you reiterate, lip wobbling as your tears spill more and more.

“I don’t believe you.” he says, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

You scan his face, and he doesn’t move an inch. It gives you pause for a moment as you contemplate what you’re feeling. But there are no thoughts in your brain, it’s silent. Blood pumps through you, and emotions overtake you as you lunge forward.

The distance between you is gone as you press your lips against his. He doesn’t tease you, this time. He doesn’t pull away. He kisses you back. You feel his hands explore your body, large palms settling in the slopes of your waist before they lower to your thighs.

You could never hate him.

His hands on your body make you feel whole again. He himself can barely believe how lovestruck you are in the way that you moan softly and breathe deeply from just his hands roaming your body. He lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he deposits you on the countertop.

You lose yourself to loving squeezes and open-mouthed kisses as he grinds his hips between your spread legs, his tea long since abandoned in favour or tormenting what he knows to be your intricate, sopping flesh.

“You hate me, baby?” he asks, mumbling against your glossy, drooling lips. “S’that right? You hate me? Say it again, princess, say you hate me.”

“D— Don’t—!” you tell him, lips too eager to be smothered by his to answer him properly. You’re worried a truth might stray from your loose lips while you’re with him like this. You fight it, you really fight it. “I hate you, so much. R-Rinnie…” you tell him, and it feels honest. You’re substituting one word for another, and it feels so powerful as you lie to him with ease. He doesn’t stop, though.

If anything, everything intensifies.

“Yeah?” he asks, licking the tip of his tongue against yours tormentingly. He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. “I’ll stop, then.”

“No, please,” you beg and it’s downright pathetic. Your own hips roll to meet his movements. You hump against each other pitifully, the desperation and friction being enough to leave you heady and delirious and most of all satisfied that it’s thanks to Rin Itoshi. “Don’t stop, please.” you whimper, attaching your lips to his as he continues.

Your poignant words lead him to growl against your skin. It’s so primal. So territorial as he pushes your jacket off your shoulders and down your arms. You help him in his efforts to take it off, shoving it until it slides and puddles on the ground.

“God I missed you.” you hear him mumble against your skin. Your heart beats faster as you feel him caress every inch of your body, hands resting on the swell of your tits as he thinks about what he wants to do to you.

You feel your truth being coaxed out of you with each passing second. Every ingratiating word the is meticulously embedded from his tongue and into your brain makes you desperate to tell him how you really feel and beg that he feels the same.

“Rinnie, I—”

His entire hand smothers the lower half of your face. There’s a worry in his eye as his body tenses up. And still, he can’t stop himself. He carries on humping his heavy bulge into your clothed cunt at a snail’s pace, panicked eyes turning heavy and filled with lust as he looks at how needy you are.

“Shh, baby,” he tells you, showing no signs of moving his hand.

“I can’t believe they ditched us.” you both hear a familiar voice muffled from outside. You aren’t sure why you care, but soon enough you’re both scrambling to be away from each other. You put your jacket back on after gathering it from the ground, both of you doing your best to act cool. “Here you are! What the fuck?” Tabito exclaims.

You can’t look.

Neither of you know why you’re so ashamed. So humiliated that you’d almost been caught hooking up. It’s not like it would be so scandalous, is it? You’ve made it very clear that you still have feelings for him, and yet, you don’t want anyone to know about this.

He’s the same, though, doing all he can to maintain composure.

He looks calm.

But you know him.

His eyes are blown. Full of lust and anxiety as he tries to control his breathing. No one else would notice, but you see how heavy his controlled breaths are. He gulps, scratching the back of his neck before looking around.

“I’ll get the others,” Rin tells Tabito, who can only shrug at his words.

Only Chigiri and Sae had returned with Karasu, the rest deciding to wait in the bar until someone decided to come and collect them. Tabito thought he’d have to do a return trip, not expecting Rin to spare him from repeating the journey once again. But once he has the all clear, he kicks off his shoes and sprawls on the couch.

Chigiri stares at you, and you can’t even look him in the eye for more than a second.

Why are you brimming with shame?

He almost sobers up at the sight of you. You look so vacant and dazed. It’s hard to look at him when you feel like this. Every attempt to do so, every forced little smile, only makes his concern grow. He walks towards you, but just as abruptly, he stops.

Rin walks behind you, caging your body beneath him as he traps you against the kitchen island. He doesn’t notice Chigiri staring, and he can’t look away. You turn your head a little, but not much. You’re eager to look at Rin but he levels his mouth with your ear. His breathing is laboured yet soft, and your skin pinches together as it carries through your body.

“I could never hate you, princess.” he whispers. He leaves you alone with that sentence without so much as a glance. He holds the keys to his brother’s car and heads for the exit. Chigiri watches him walk by before looking at you again. Sae looks at you both, briefly. He too is curious as to what is going on.

“That looked intense.” Hyoma speaks, finally getting close enough to have a conversation with you. You smile, and it’s feeble, but it’s all you can do as you try to think of an excuse to give him. Maybe he didn’t mean what he said about missing you. Tensions were high, after all. He has a girlfriend to think about, of course he feels ashamed. Of course, he wants to pretend this little lapse of judgement didn’t occur. “Did something happen?” your best friend asks.

“We just argued.” you lie.

You never lie to Chigiri, though you’re sure you’ll tell him once you get your bearings. You need to find out what’s going on with Rin. It’s hard to talk about something you don’t understand. You’re sure he’ll be sympathetic once you have your story straight.

You just need to talk to Rin.

You need some assurance.

You need to know where you stand.

“I think I’m gonna go to bed early.” you tell him, giving him a hug before walking away. “Happy birthday, Chigs!”

“… okay.” he looks at you, hugging you back. “I’ll try and be quiet so I don’t wake you.”

“Goodnight.” you wave, ascending the stairs and out of his line of sight.

--

An early night was never an option. You knew that, and Hyoma probably knew it, too.

All you did when you got to your room was scroll through Instagram. You took some time to reply to some texts you’d received from family asking how your trip was going. You hammed it up, of course, not letting slip that Rin happened to be here too.

They all called you stupid for ending things with him.

It felt right at the time. But hindsight is a wonderful thing.

You weren’t ready to deal with re-opening that wound only to hear ‘I told you so’ repeatedly.

You heard Rin get home with the other guys, though they all stayed downstairs.

It’s all the more humiliating when you think about how desperately you want Rin to appear. You need him to come and get you, and not just to pick up where you left off.

You want answers.

Though you suppose you won’t be getting them tonight.

You spent a few hours trying on different outfits and following along with makeup tutorials from YouTube before getting bored. The raucous sounds of laughter and music got louder when you walked across the hall to take a shower and wash your face clean.

The floorboards begin to creak in the direction of the stairs when you get out.

And it scares you.

You rush across the hallway and back into your room. Your hand flies to your chest, adrenaline ravishes your heart as you lean backwards against the locked door. It makes you feel vulnerable, right now. No matter who it is, you feel scared of being seen.

Your heart stops when you hear a knock at the door.

It isn’t repeated.

Just one, singular, knock.

It makes your breathing stutter and stop abruptly. You don’t dare answer, not when you’re naked, save for the towel. It could be any one of the seven men you’re sharing the house with this week. But deep down, you know.

You know who’s on the other side of that door.

The steps retreat, and your breathing calms.

Was it him? Was that really Rin Itoshi on the other side of your door? You wait until you can barely hear the steps anymore before you unlock the barrier between you and him. When the door opens, you step out, sheepishly.

He looks at you from down the hall. Those eyes of his, full of pain and longing as he stares back at you with the same intensity you’re offering him. He doesn’t speak, but he goes into his room, so you go back into yours.

You let your towels hit the floor, crumpling up in a mess as you look for some nightwear and a hairbrush. It’s like a race against time, or at least that’s how it feels as you quickly try to brush through your sopping hair.

Every passing minute feels like it’s expanding the gulf between the two of you. So you want to hurry, it needs to be resolved now.

You barely even close the door when you walk out and jog down the hall to his room. It’s hard to be quiet when you feel such urgency to see him. You hope your footsteps aren’t too loud. And you hope nobody can hear over the music where you are and what you’re doing.

It’s all you can do.

And so, you knock, quietly, waiting for him to let you in. Too much time passes. Minutes feel like hours as you wait for him to answer. Your body feels cold, wet droplets decorate your skin and your hair drips down your spine. It feels like a mistake that you came. But why would he knock if he hadn’t wanted this to happen? Maybe he regrets this, too, as well as what happened downstairs.

It hurts to think about.

But he answers, and of your anxiety leaves you like a deflating balloon. Though you’re stilled, before him, and he doesn’t move aside. It makes your worries return as if it were a cat preparing to pounce on a rat. You widen your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. It happens again and again… and again until you realise, you’re choked up.

You can’t say a thing.

So, you don’t.

You get closer to him, still trying to say something. Anything. But nothing comes out, even when you’re close enough to feel his heartbeat. You just stare at each other in his doorway, openly exposed to anyone who may decide to ascend the stairs.

“I— I missed you too, Rinnie.”

His eyes soften at your sensitivity. The way that you have no qualms in making yourself susceptible to a painful rejection.

He lets you in, kicking the door behind himself before leaning back on it.

“You missed me, huh?” he speaks, his head droops backwards until there’s a gentle thud against the wooden door. His eyes are so heavy, his gaze is narrow. And still you can’t help but seek love and comfort from him as he looks at your with such disdain. “Are you sure you aren’t just jealous because you can’t have me?”

His words are hurtful, regardless of how valid of a question it is. It’s possible, sure, but it feels like more than that. You knew when you ended things that it was the right decision. But now it feels like a mistake, something rash you did in the heat of the moment. You didn’t give him a chance. You didn’t give either of you a chance.

And now, despite everything, you want to.

“You said you missed me…” you tell him, meekly, “I mean it, Rin. Did you mean it?”

He doesn’t say anything, he just stares. You always hated it when he did this, and it feels worse now, somehow. His eyes are terrifying and yet you can’t stop staring back at him. They’re piercing, like icicles falling from a height and impaling you without remorse.

“Rin…” you speak, closing the distance between you again. Your breath hitches as you approach, shaky hands reach out to rest on his chest, and you swallow before speaking once more. “Rinnie.”

He grabs your wrists and spins you around, pinning you against the door behind you. Your heart rate is rapid, and his isn’t much better. You’re staring again, but you bite your tongue.

Your lips meet as his crash against your own. He lifts you up, just as he had hours prior, and carries you to his bed. Your breathing is heavy, you pant furiously as you roll your hips against him in a bid to alleviate the tension that has been brewing since early evening. He drops you down on the bed, his body smothers yours as he lies on top of you.

His hips roll into your soaking core, and you can’t help but moan into his mouth.

“I meant what I said,” he tells you before silencing himself with another kiss. “Fuckin’ missed you.” he wraps his arm around your back and lifts your body further up the bed with ease, determined to get your head comfortable in the pillows.

You wince as he strips you of your pyjama bottoms and peels away your panties from your dripping cunt. It’s too dark to see you, but it’s enough. The way the moonlight bleeds through his windows turns your petalled flesh into a galaxy. Between your legs lies a constellation of the prettiest stars, and there’s nothing more that he needs.

He pulls his sweater over his head, discarding it somewhere unknown as if it means nothing. It’s true, in this moment. Nothing matters but being intimately bare with each other.

Your cunt, his cunt, is committed to memory. He could recognise how your intimate folds feel among others even if blindfolded. Because you were made for him. Of this, he’s sure. Your cunt belongs to him, and you would have done well to remember that.

“I can’t wait, princess,” he explains, and you nod in understanding.

“Please, fuck me, I can’t wait anymore. Rinnie I c—can’t.”

“Shhhh,” he whispers, freeing his cock just enough from their confines to line his length up with you. You sob when you feel his pretty tip catch against your hole. And he coos so sweetly as he teases you with that feeling. Your pretty tears are like diamonds dripping from your eyes as the blinding moonlight ignites them. “I’ve always given you whatever you want, I’m not gonna stop now.” he tells you.

It's the only warning you get before he pushes into you. He sinks slowly until you’re filled up to the brim and you’re sure you can feel him in your throat. It’s like nothing has changed. Every ridge and vein feels so familiar, you’ve never known a feeling better than you know this one. A ribald dance that only the two of you know.

His tip kisses your gooey insides in the most delectable way. Just as it always had in those ethereal nights you spent with him throughout your relationship. He holds your jaw with one hand, and it’s rough. A commanding force that’s imploring you to indulge him in this.

Give him your everything, mind body and soul. He can see how your eyes want to wander. They want to stray and abandon him just like you had months ago. But he’s doing this for you, he thinks you should understand that.

The least you owe him is your loving eyes on his.

Your love is trapped in your throat as you force it to stay there. His eyes are so beautiful and his body feels like you’re home again. You want to tell him, it’s making you cry even more. You can’t help but wonder if that’s enough, alone. If he can see the love you’re pouring into the tears you shed, will he understand what you’re so scared to convey?

He surprises you, however, as he spills himself inside of you after a few deep strokes. It snaps you away from your panicked mind as you feel warmth fill you. And that feels like love, to you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” he tells you, stopping you from replying with a bruising kiss. “I don’t want to stop.” he pushes your little vest up your body until your tits spring free.

You moan beautifully as he sucks a nipple into his mouth, gently caressing the raised bud with his tongue. A gentle yet rough hand delicately pushes your tensing legs apart from each other, not caring in the least if his seed drips onto the sheets below. You gasp as you feel two fingers circle your sticky clit.

“Rinnie…” you whimper.

“I know.” he breaths against your damp nipple, his breath warms your skin before he sinks two heavy fingers into your needy heat. He humps his leaking, coated cock against your side as his length softens slowly. His rutting is in tandem with his fingers prodding your cum coated walls.

Your fingers run through his hair as he continues to suckle on your tits, your second-hand flies to join the first as he alternates from one nipple to the other. And he groans as you tug at his Sacramento coloured locks. The more time you’re with him like this, the more you begin to slip into old habits.

“Think I— f-fuck… Rin.” you mutter, moving your hand to grip the sheets below as he brings you to a tantalizing edge.

“Go on, princess,” he whispers into your pretty skin. “Show me how much you miss me.”

The coil snaps at his silver tongue and salacious language. He never had to try hard to convince you to submit to his commands in the past. Always so eager to please and starved for his touch. You could never get enough of him, and you’ve never been like that with a man before. He makes you greedy, and impatient.

So when he says jump, you show him how high you’re prepared to go for him.

He makes you look at him as you orgasm. Teal eyes, still somehow so radiant even in darkness, hold a neediness you haven’t seen in a long time. You cum, hard, dousing his fingers in your juices as he carries on finger fucking his cum deeper into your insides. And you feel him kiss you. It’s sloppy and pornographic as you swap spit and still moan into his mouth as he drags and pulls every trace of your orgasm from you.

You pant, relaxing your body as the tryst comes to a satisfying end.

“That was amaz—”

“I told you, I’m not ready to stop yet.” he tells you.

He sensually kisses and sucks your neck, though you’re certain it isn’t hard enough to stake his claim on you. He wouldn’t need to, anyway. You both know who you belong to, after all. You watch him as he leaves a trail of kisses down your body. His lips pepper across your collarbone before kissing between the fat of your breasts.

His shushing hits your ears as his mouth comes close to your pussy. His breath fans across your sex, and you feel just how weighty each breath is as he admires your glistening folds as if for the first time.

He gently moves one of your legs to rest over his shoulder, while he pushes the other one into your chest.

His tongue darts out, caressing your exposed clit as he keeps your legs far from each other. Your head falls back into the pillows as the angle makes you delirious. He looks up to see your facial expressions, smirking into your heat when he notices how much you’re enjoying him.

“Rinnie—” you moan, though you’re ultimately ignored. “Rin. Please!” you cry, begging for a bit of reprieve.

“You know what I want.” he tells you, quietly.

You don’t know, not until he frees your leg and sinks his fingers into your heat again. And they curl. It’s devilish and titillating and you just about scream from the feeling. You don’t tell him to stop, though. You wouldn’t dream of it. His arm wraps firmly around your thigh and keeps you fixed in place as you try to flee. But you’re trapped, fated to fall from a height until he’s satisfied.

“Let me see it,” he whispers. Your moans become strident as he digs and teases your spongy interior, searching for what’s rightfully his. He’s there. He’s right there. His jaw hangs low as your toes curl violently, and you make a sloppy mess as you cum perversely. “Goooood girl, good fucking girl. That’s how I like to see my pretty baby cum, jus’ like that.” he grins before slurping up your orgasm. Your pussy gushes like a fountain for him, and it’s everything he’s wanted and needed for months now.

He doesn’t care about getting a little wet.

He couldn’t care less that the front of his hair is almost as soaking as yours.

You hadn’t noticed while you were experiencing the bliss that is Rin Itoshi’s tongue, but he’s been rutting his length pathetically into the mattress as he devours your essence. Each lewd slurp and divine suckle, he’d been grinding his aching cock into the plush mattress below you both.

And he still is.

Pearly pre drools from his slit as he carries on, though he isn’t sure he can stop. But when your cunt stops twitching, he finds the will to proceed. He rests his hands on both of your knees as you put your legs together, waiting to see what he wants to do with you next.

He rakes his fingers through his damp locks, and your cunt flutters at the sight of him pushing his hair back. It flops back into place as he comes down to kiss you again. You wrap your arms around his back, and he moves your body with his until you’re straddling him.

“Rin, I—”

He doesn’t let you finish as he kisses you. His cock is standing to attention for you again, and he needs to be buried inside. You feel him line his length up, and he covers your mouth with his hand as you attempt to screech out in paradisical bliss as he fills you again.

“Let me do the work,” he tells you, and you nod. “But put your hand here,” he requests, grabbing your wrist until your hand envelops his neck.

You’re worried about falling backwards as he sits with you on top on the edge of his bed. But your safety doesn’t come into question as his fingers sink into your hips to keep you secure. You cry, whimper, and whine as you feel him fuck up into you.

He rewards you with harder and deeper strokes when you softly squeeze the sides of his neck, cock twitching pathetically as he realises how enamoured he is with you still.

“You’re so fucking perfect for me.” he tells you, eyes rolling back until they turn white. The gentle squeeze of your little fingers will always be his undoing.

“Rinnie I—”

“D-Don’t.” he requests, hips stuttering as the thought of you saying what he thinks you’re about to makes him spiral. His heart rate reaches heights he wasn’t sure was possible as he hopes you aren’t about to ruin this. Ruin whatever this even is.

“I love you.” you cry, “I love you s-so much.”

“Fuck,” he pants, slowing ever so slightly so he doesn’t cum before you get to again. He tucks your hair behind your ear. His hips roll and his defined body perfectly stimulates your throbbing clit. “I love you.” he confesses, quietly, kissing you sweetly after the fact.

“Nngh, fuck—!” you wince, your walls tighten around him as you start to feel yourself coming undone once again. So he fucks into you, hard, eager to help you along. “’m cumming, aah!”

You can only assume how red and sweaty his face is as he fucks into you with a passion and vigour you’ve never felt from him before. He has an unyielding need to please and remind you how much he had loved you with every deep, unrelenting stroke.

You cum with him.

And it’s transcendent.

“Did you mean it, princess?” he asks, heavy breaths huffing across your dewy skin. “Do you love me?”

“… Yes, Rinnie—” you pause. “I still love you…”

He kisses your shoulder as he wraps his arms around your torso and holds you close. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was worried to let you go. He lies back and keeps you pressed firmly against him. He plays with your hair as you rest on him. Contentment seems to fill the room as you do nothing but lie like this together. There isn’t a sound other than exhausted breaths and beating hearts.

“I should shower and change the sheets.” he muses into your hair; it only causes you to snuggle further into him. “You should shower with me.”

“I’d like that.” you smile, giddy over the idea of seeing him under artificial lighting and witnessing how his expressions really change when he’s with you intimately.

There’s a niggling feeling, though. That everything is too good to be true. You’re sure this is real, but you have a fleeting thought of being asleep in your bedroom after saying you’d go to bed early. His heart beating against your cheek feels real, though. So does his bare flesh and gentle touch.

Everything is too perfect, though.

You wonder when the bubble will burst.

--

© 2023 rinhaler

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"you're holding onto me awfully tight, darling."

Teaser coming - 4th August

Fic coming - 18th August

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