#Oh! They could also be sexually assaulted as well.
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At least my dad and his wife didn't start dating young.
I don't know if she was a practicing JW when I was small, but if she was and if my dad turned a blind eye because (yay! Wife/girlfriend!) that's what he does, I would be 10x more messed up then I am now.
I'm so glad they were/are unable to have kids.
#Loon.txt#When I was younger I was excited for the prospect of a sibling (only child. Thank fuck for that as well) but now I'm glad it did not happen#Because that kid would literally get no holidays and the cult would preach at how their father and brother would die at Armageddon#For not being jw#Oh! They could also be sexually assaulted as well.#Kid would be fucked#It's something I've thought of. I know I would avacate for the imaginary little sibling in my head.#At the very least I'd make sure I was a safe person#I'd have to be#Haydee you'll never be a grandmother either. Not only are you not my mom. I don't want kids#But I'd certainly not give you one. You are not controlling another person.
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central nervous system | s.r.
in which you are drugged on what should've been a routine case
margovember
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst; hurt/comfort content warnings: being drugged, threatened sexual assault, season 10, blood, broken glass, in a bar but reader doesn't drink, jareau!reader. word count: 1.7k a/n: oh dear. this week was so eternally long. work was crazy busy i worked overtime and almost ended up in the hospital which all led up to me taking the lsat today. crazy shit, but margovember will prevail. also! i'm hoping to get masterlists updated tomorrow if that's something you've been waiting on.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” an unfamiliar voice intrudes on your private thoughts, looking around the bar that you had been planted in to see if you could catch your UnSub before he had the chance to attack someone else.
He sets a glass in front of you, and you drop some cash on the wooden surface, you shrug, “I’m in town on business.”
The bartender laughs heartily at your response before shaking his head, “Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just—that’s a line I hear a lot.”
Your face warms at the recognition that the bartender was flirting with you, but this is a man who gets paid to be nice. You take his words at face value and sip at your drink, “Well, I have no reason to lie to you,” you squint at his name tag, “Jackson.”
He wipes down a spill, hooking the rag over the sink, and smiling at you, “Well, it’s nice to meet an honest woman.”
Following him with your eyes as he walks away, that last comment rubs you the wrong way, but Jackson Gleason was the bar manager, and Garcia had already cleared him from the suspect list.
You find yourself wishing Hotch had sent you into the bar with an earbud to communicate with the team, but instead, you were handed a phone, preprogrammed to alert the team if you hit the power button. There was a plainclothes officer somewhere in a corner to keep an eye on you, and the rest of the team was at the precinct or in an unmarked van outside.
Kate had coached you to the best of her abilities, but this wasn’t your first time going undercover. Catching serial rapists was more her speed, but she was pregnant, which immediately took her out of the running. Sipping from the thin straw in your glass, you let your eyes wander around the bar, antique posters and advertisements are littered across the walls, and someone just started playing Radiohead on the jukebox.
Eyeing the phone in your purse, you sigh, stirring the ice in your cup listlessly.
“Can I get you another? Maybe something stronger?” The manager offers, returning from the employees-only door with a new package of straws to restock the bar.
You shake your head, holding your empty glass out of him to take, “The same thing is fine.” Ignoring the fact that you don’t drink—you couldn’t drink on the job; all you’d been given was a coke.
He raises his eyebrows at that, “Suit yourself,” he says, ignoring the fact that you were trying to hand off your already dirtied glass to him and filling a clean cup with ice and coke.
Brushing it off as company policy, you thank him for the drink, placing another few dollars on the bar and smiling at him. Over your shoulder, you glance at the plainclothes officer, engaging in an animated conversation with another patron over whatever sports game is playing on the TV. You suspect he’s a little too good at pretending to be off the clock.
You make a face at the straw in your glass, and the bartender notices, “Sorry, just ran out of plastic.”
Taken aback, you use the paper straw anyway, sipping at your drink while you still can—knowing the straw will inevitably disintegrate.
It doesn’t take long for you to notice something wrong, a dull ache in your chest exacerbated by a slight rise in your body temperature. Your fingertips feel hot like they would after coming inside from the cold. You look down to find the emergency phone in your purse, but your head droops with your eyes, every controlled movement before a struggle.
“Hey,” Gleason says, jutting his chin in your direction, “You don’t look so great.”
A different version of yourself would’ve given him snark in return, but that different version of yourself would’ve been able to feel her extremities. “Woah,” You breathe, trying to swing your legs off of the stool only to find that you’re much higher from the ground than you initially thought.
When you lift your head again, whipping it back so hard you’re afraid it might fly off, he’s standing directly in front of you, “Why don’t I take you out back? You can get some fresh air,” the offer is innocent enough, but it rubs you the wrong way. His hand is on your waist, at the very least you know that’s wrong—you have a boyfriend, and it’s not this guy.
No, your boyfriend is outside of the bar in a van, waiting for your signal because you’re… oh. “No,” you whisper, trying to get your breathing under control. “I’m— Where’s my phone?” You’re digging through your purse as he stands you up and guides you to the back of the bar, closer to a large exit sign.
Sirens are going off in your head, but even they sound separated from your situation. “I can call a cab for you,” he assures you, leading you by your arm and closer to the back door.
“No,” you say again, “I really need my phone…” his grip tightens on your wrist, practically dragging you out of the bar while you use your free hand to find your phone, pushing the power button before it slips out of your hand, clattering to the ground. “That really hurts,” you tell him, now able to give more of your focus to evading the man who was most decidedly not Jackson Gleason.
Pulling your arm back, you manage to break free from him, the momentum from your struggle sends your hand flying into a picture frame, shattering the glass and causing the UnSub to spin on his heel. “Look at what you did,” he seethes, gripping your hair at the back of your head and forcing you to look at the shattered glass.
Your mouth gapes at the sensation of your hair being pulled until there’s a rush of cold air and he pushes you forward, into the waiting arms of someone else, “Woah, hey, I’ve got you,” Spencer says, keeping you off of the floor and, with the help of someone else, carrying your dead weight over to one of the booths.
Spencer clambers into the booth seat first, seating you in front of him so that your back is pressing against his chest. You let out a low groan when he wraps an arm around your waist, keeping your body from flopping onto the sticky hardwood.
“Do you know what you took?” He asks, pressing his face into your hair so that the two of you can keep your voices down.
Vaguely aware of the way his fingers are pressing into the pulse point on your wrist, you shake your head, “I didn’t take anything.”
He hums in response, “You were drugged. I— I’m so sorry we didn’t realize who it was sooner. By the time we realized there was a discrepancy in Jackson Gleason’s file, you had already pushed the alert button,” he tells you, being careful not to move around too much. “Can you lift your head for me? It’ll help your breathing.”
With tremendous effort—and some help from Spencer—you lift your head, letting it rest on him. Now, you can see that the majority of the bar has cleared out, Rossi watches you nervously from the bar, telling Spencer something about paramedics. You huff, “Where’s JJ?”
“She’ll meet us at the hospital, love,” he answers you, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head.
Trying to adjust yourself, you shake your head indeterminably, “No, it’s… I need my sister. I need my sister.” Somewhere—a past version of yourself, perhaps—you knew that JJ was at the hospital, speaking with one of the survivors.
Spencer speaks with someone that you can’t see, they’re standing in your periphery, a mangled blur of a person. Moments later, something cold is pressed to your face, and the sensation makes you jump, “Ow,” you whine, though it doesn’t hurt.
“Ducky?” Your sister’s voice rings through the phone, and you’re surprised to hear her using your nickname. Although, your status as JJ’s little sister tends to come through when you’re hurt.
You hum into the receiver, “Hi, J,” you greet wearily.
A sigh of relief is her next response, “Hey, Derek said you’re waiting for the paramedics to take you to the hospital, and I’ll be here to greet you when you arrive. Does that sound alright?”
“It’s cold in here,” you mumble, wondering if Derek is the blurry shape remaining in your periphery.
There’s a pause on her end before she speaks up again, “I’m sorry, Ducky.” There it was again. “You’ll be okay though; you just have to wait it out.”
You nod as a jacket is laid out on your lap; Spencer must’ve heard you mention being cold to your sister. Your boyfriend whispers something to you, “Spencer says the paramedics are here and I can’t talk to you anymore.”
JJ laughs slightly on the phone, “I’ll see you when you get here, okay?”
“Yeah, J,” you whisper, letting someone take the phone from you. You frown at Spencer, “I don’t feel quite right.”
Helping you get on the gurney, Spencer holds your hand while an EMT wraps a blood pressure cuff around your arm, “He likely gave you a central nervous system inhibitor.”
You nod slowly, wrinkling your nose when the other paramedic shines a light in your eyes, “I am nervous,” you answer. Trying to listen to the medical personnel as they explain what’s going on, but it all goes in one ear and out the other. One of them crudely wraps a cut on your hand to staunch the bleeding, but you couldn’t even remember when it started to bleed.
Anxiously, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. “Don’t bite down on your lip,” Spencer instructs, “You could bite right through it and not even realize.”
Releasing your lip, your eyes widen at him while he pulls a blanket over your shoulders. “That’s scary,” you whisper.
“I agree,” he says, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “It is scary.”
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid angst#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid hurt/comfort#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fic#criminal minds angst#spencer reid x fem!reader#written by margot#margovember
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Fuck It I Love You | LN4
lando norris x reader, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff
summary: lando and y/n seem to absolutely hate each other until a dangerous situation reveals the truth
warnings: drink spiking, threats of sexual assault (nothing graphic, someone tries to take her home)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For some reason, Lando and her never got along. It stemmed from when they were karting together, all the way until they both got to Formula 1.
Now, at ages 21 and 23, they drove for rival teams and were always going wheel to wheel.
Monza wasn't any different.
Max and Charles were far in front, but she and Lando were fighting over the last podium place. They were switching back and forth until on the last lap, she maybe pushed him a bit too far on one of the last corners, securing 3rd place.
He approached her when she was making her way back from the post-race press conference, on her way to the media pen.
"What the fuck was that?" he demanded.
She shrugged, smirking. "Not quite sure what you're talking about."
"Oh don't play dumb. That was dirty racing on the last lap and you know it."
"I don't see how it's any different from what you did to me in Austria, or last year at Silverstone."
She could see his jaw clench, and she knew she got him.
"Maybe keep your talking on the track," she told him before he could reply, walking away.
That night she was at the club celebrating with a couple of the other drivers. She was pretty close with Max, Charles, Oscar, and Daniel. It made things a bit awkward with them when she and Lando were really going at it because they were all good friends with Lando too. But whatever, it was mostly fine.
She had been dancing and throwing back drinks until she forgot about her and Lando's feud. She's also pretty sure the other drivers got some embarrassing videos of her. Her current drink was eventually empty and she stumbled away to the bar, not telling anyone.
She waved the bartender over to ask for another drink, tipping them $20. If it weren't for the alcohol in her system, she would've flinched when a man suddenly appeared at her side. It was crowded by the bar, and he was pressing right against her.
"Hey baby, let me buy you a drink."
"That's alright, I already have one," she politely declined, hoping he would just leave her alone.
"Oh come on, don't be like that honey."
She twisted her neck around to try to spot the other drivers and when she did, she grabbed her drink and left. The man luckily didn't follow.
Halfway through her drink, she started noticing that something was wrong. Her head was spinning way more than it should be, she was sweating like crazy, nauseous, and her body felt heavy.
"I'm going to the bathroom," she slurred out to Max before stumbling away.
She didn't make it far before she was grabbing onto the wall to keep herself up. She knew at the moment that something was terribly wrong. She most likely had her drink spiked, and now she was separated from her group and incapacitated.
A hand grabbed her arm and she looked up. Her vision was too blurry to make out any features, but she knew it wasn't one of the drivers.
"You okay, babe? Let me help you."
"N-No, m' good, leav' me 'lone."
She tried to escape his grip, but she could barely move, her strength was completely gone. The man wrapped his whole arm around her waist, supporting her as he walked her out of the club while she tried to protest.
The cold, fresh air felt good when it hit her, but then she remembered what situation she was in. The man was dragging her along more roughly now.
"Stop, 'lease, I don' wanna go with you," her pleading sounded more and more like pathetic whimpers falling on unheard ears.
He just kept walking down the street, gripping her so hard there'd probably be bruises.
"Don't, please, leave me 'lone," she whined, eyes welling up with tears as she tried to escape his grip again.
He suddenly shoved her face-first into a building, rough concrete scraping her arms and face, and she fell to the ground.
"Shut up and don't move!" he hissed.
He yanked her back up and dragged her along.
"No, no, please, stop," she cried, nearly sobbing. She was scared, she couldn't feel anything, and she was completely separated from anyone she knew while some strange man was leading her somewhere.
"Hey!" another voice suddenly yelled, about 5 meters behind them. "What the fuck are you doing?"
Whoever this person was, they sounded pissed.
"Nothing man, mind your business," the man next to her said.
"No, I won't mind my fucking business. Let go of her before I smash your face in."
The man scoffed, trying to continue walking.
"I warned you," the other man said before suddenly she fell to the ground and she heard a thud of skin-on-skin contact, before a groan.
She was on the ground, leaning her back against the wall while her head drooped to the side. She couldn't see much, but she could hear the punching continue.
"Stop, stop, man, I'm sorry!"
"Oh yeah? Did you listen to her when she asked you to stop?"
Eventually, it went quiet, and there were footsteps in her direction. The man who saved her crouched down in front of her and put his hands on her cheeks, supporting her head. It was then that her vision cleared up a bit, and she realized who the person was.
"Lando?" she asked, voice slurring.
"Yeah, it's me. I got you."
She started sobbing, trembling hands gripping his jacket as he wrapped her in a hug, letting her cry into his chest.
"Shh, it's okay, I'm here. It's okay, you're safe now," he whispered to her as he rubbed her back.
"I-I was so, so scared," she cried.
"I know, I know. I got you."
Lando then used one hand to fish out his phone, calling the police. They waited while the police showed up, him trying to keep her awake.
When the police arrived, one of the officers arrested the unconscious man on the ground while the other rode with them in the ambulance to take their statements. Y/n never let go of Lando's hand once.
The hospital kept her overnight for observation after making sure whatever drug she was spiked with wasn't lethal, and collecting evidence and taking pictures of her injuries. She had finally given in to unconsciousness, and Lando was sitting next to her, holding her hand.
It was only when everything was a little settled down that he saw that she had nearly 100 missed calls from various drivers. Shit, he forgot about that.
He opened up his phone and called Daniel.
"Hey, man I can't talk right now," Daniel said right away, sounding panicked.
"Hold on—"
"Actually, do you by chance know where Y/n is?"
"Yeah, about that, I'm in the hospital—"
"What? What happened? Are you okay?"
"Can you let me finish my sentence? I'm with Y/n. She was drugged and I saw her on the street. Some man was dragging her with him, and she was clearly asking him to leave her alone. Anyway, she's a little banged up, but she's okay, nothing happened. They're just keeping her overnight for observation."
Daniel let out a big sigh of relief, said something to someone next to him, and then turned back to the phone.
"Thank fuck, we've been trying to find her for hours. Thank you, Lando, seriously. I can't imagine if you hadn't been there. What hospital is she at?"
After telling him where they were, he hung up.
Lando sighed, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes as he reflected on what the hell just happened.
Y/n shifted in front of him, and he immediately sat up straight.
"Lando?" she mumbled, voice hoarse and still half-asleep.
"Yeah, it's me. I'm here. Do you remember what happened?"
She paused, but then her face crumpled, and she nodded.
"It's okay, it's okay, don't cry," he soothed.
"You saved me. I thought you would've just let him take me."
Lando's eyebrows furrowed, stomach twisting just at the thought.
"Why would you think that?"
"You hate me," she muttered, eyes looking down.
"I don't," he paused, hesitating. "I don't hate you at all. I...I didn't plan on ever telling you this, but I really like you. You're funny, you're witty, you're kind, you're fearless, you never back down from a challenge, and I love all those things about you. And I know you probably want nothing to do with me and you hate my guts, but I just need to get it off my chest―"
"―Lando, just shut up and kiss me. I like you too, idiot."
Lando grinned, showing the gap between his front two teeth that she always loved, and leaned down to connect their lips.
"Do you think people would get suspicious if we stopped being mean to each other?" he asked.
"Probably. We should just hard launch."
"I don't think our PR teams would appreciate that."
Later, when Daniel made it to the hospital, he was extremely surprised to see the two of them cuddled up together. He just had to take a picture.
#f1#formula 1#f1 fanfic#lando norris x reader#lando norris#max verstappen#charles leclerc#daniel ricciardo#f1 angst#angst#fluff#f1 fluff#f1 imagine#female driver#driver!reader#oscar piastri#f1 x reader#mclaren#lando norris fanfic#lando norris imagine
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Kiss it Better Pt:2
Curly x Reader
AN: Holy shit I did NOT expect all the love and support from the original like god damn! People begging for a part 2 and everything (I’ll make sure to tag those who asked for one at the bottom) Like oh my god thank you guys so much! This means the WORLD to me! As a disabled person trying to make his medical issues more accurate it means so much that yall love it and how I write in general! Thank you!
SUM: You and Anya were busy dealing with changing Curly’s wrappings together. Sharing stories, and just trying to stay positive. That’s when you just had to ask. What’s going on between her and Jimmy?
Warnings: Jimmy, sexual assault, Anya sharing her trauma so pls take care of yourself, medical gore, medical situations, light violence,
“Thank you again for handling Curly’s medication. I’m sorry I just-“ Anya would try to explain again how sorry she was that she was struggling to do her job. A job you could never blame her for. She’s been through a traumatic event of the ship crashing, and already had to try and save a near corpse. She deserves to breathe.
“Anya it’s fine, really. I’m his romantic partner as well. It be weird if I didn’t pick up some responsibility and tried to take care of him. You also deserve time to rest. You’ve done so much for him, and saved his life. Give yourself more credit. It’s not a sin to ask for help.” You would try and comfort her, as you would grab the fresh bandages for Curly.
He needed a lot of them, and they had to be changed out relatively often. He’s basically just exposed meat after all. The risk of infection was high, which you were wondering how he didn’t even catch any yet, so he needed alot of attention and care.
If only Pony Express had packed more, because the med bay was running out of them fast. Very very fast. Might be only able to maybe re wrap him a few more times now. Had you terrified because as much as you wanted to take care of him you had to leave some bandages for the rest of the crew. In case of another emergency.
You wish you could be doing more.
“We’re going to undress you. Is that alright?” Anya would ask Curly, who in return would give two blinks to indicate that he consented to being stripped. Was gonna have to be done but it was still so kind of Anya to still ask before hand.
The two of you would soon get to work on changing out his bandages. A very slow, careful, tedious job. One that normally took over a hour to do properly. So it’s time to kill some of that empty space.
“Ya know, this isn’t the first time over had to wrap up a certain someone because they got hurt. I remember a time when we were at a Ski resort with his family. Someone wanted to try a path that was meant for experts and before you know it someone’s returning to the lodge with his leg bone sticking out of his pants.”
Anya gave a little ‘oh my’ as you just laughed at the memory. Curly just adored sports. Especially the winter variety. You felt so blessed that he had a job that paid so well. Well enough that the two of you, and his own family sometimes, could go and enjoy vacations like that.
You wonder if the two of you will ever see the snow again.
“That sounds rather nice, minus the whole breaking his leg. To share a cabin together with someone. Cuddle for warmth together by the fire place. Sounds really nice.” She would speak dreamily. As if she knew it was simply that. A dream. Something that will never happen again. No matter how hard she tried.
Like something was wrong with her.
“I bet you’ll get that moment. When we escape here you’ll have a flooding of men and women coming your way. The brilliant woman who managed to fight death and win. Again and again. The most brilliant woman to ever live.” You would praise her, as you were very mindful of Curly’s catheter. As if that needed to be messed with.
“Yeah…..Maybe……” Anya didn’t really seem to actually respond. Was like she was just saying words for the sake of words. Had you wondering.
Even before the crash she had just started acting off one day. From being a cheerful woman who was gentle and full of smiles, to being so quiet and scared by the littlest of sounds. Like she expected someone to jump from around the corner and attack her. Any feeling of safety and comfort vanished.
You were worried.
“Say, Anya-“ You began to speak, while disposing the bandages safely into the bio hazard bag. “-Is everything ok? I mean duh we’re not doing to hot with being, ya know, crashed and all. But besides that. You just seem…..different.”
Anya seemed to not hear you. She simply worked on checking over Curly’s body. Hunting down any infections, looking for possible bed sores, monitoring his healing, and getting ready to do the ever so gentlest of sponge baths.
Anya did always get in the zone whenever someone was hurt. You figured she didn’t catch what you said because of it.
So repeated yourself, as you stood next to her. Impossible to miss what you were asking, as you would help Curly sit up and just move his joints to better reach with the sponge.
The only sounds in that room were Curly’s whines of discomfort. Whines to indicate truly how much pain he was in when even the pain killers can numb it.
“Anya….I know you can hear me. Is everything alright? Not to be rude but I’m kinda asking you a question.” You would be gentle, but she still couldn’t help but looked distressed.
“Anya what’s-“ You would reach a hand out, to comfort her, but the second it was raised towards her she would immediately flinch. Her startled reaction ended up even making her drop Curly’s leg on the table.
Oh that’s gotta hurt.
For a fleeting moment you put Anya on the back burner, and just focused your attention on comforting Curly. How he gave a weak sob from the intense pain.
“Shhhh I know Curly Fry. I know. It’s gonna be ok. It was an accident. You know she didn’t mean it. Shhh.” You would kiss his forehead, as Curly had a muscle spasm through his body from the intense shock to his system. So exhausted and in so much pain.
“It’s gonna be ok. I promise. I love you so much. Just think about our future. How we will get off this ship, and have that family. Have our own baby-“
The moment you said baby, that’s when Anya finally cracked.
Her hands were now covering her face, as she just broke down into sobs. Sobs that sounded so hoarse. Like she’s done it so many times that her body was just abused from it. Left you so worried and confused.
What the hell is going on here?
“Anya, what’s wrong? What did I say?” You would gently guide her to a chair, and worked on stroking her hair. Giving her as much comfort as you would to Curly. The same gentle love as he would get. Love she deserved.
It took a while for her to catch her breathe, and you didn’t rush it because it really seemed she needed it, but her own trembling body was finally able to quite down.
“I need to tell you something. I need to tell you something about Jimmy-“
You were quick to kneel down infront of her, and was ready to take in every last word she was going to say. Maybe what secrets she held could finally explain why the hell you all were crashed here. Why Jimmy crashed you all.
“Jimmy ra-“
That’s when the door opened.
As if that bastard had a sixth sense for whenever people were talking about him. That same annoyed expression, same sneer, same empty eyes.
All three of you kinda froze in time now. Looking at him, as he looked back at you all. Scanning you. As if judging to figure out what was being said before entering.
“Hey….Captain….” You swallowed, as you would return to standing. Anya herself remained in her chair, with her head down. Didn’t seem she trusted herself in showing any expressions right now.
“What were you guys talking about?” He asked, as he seemed slightly on edge. Like he hasn’t been sleeping well or had too much caffeine. Just this tension of paranoia was in the air. Like he was worried about something.
“Just about the bandages. We’re starting to run low, and Anya is just getting worried about having enough.” Wasn’t a complete lie. The best lies were the ones with truth sprinkled in.
“Of course he’s wasting our supplies.” He scoffed, before walking over to the table. You were trying to give Curly some respect with grabbing something to cover him up with, but it was like Jimmy wouldn’t let you. The stare he gave you, when you grabbed the clean hospital gown, made you just freeze in place.
It was just so full of hate.
It was just so full of disgust.
It was just cruelty in dark eyes.
It was just focused on you. As if Anya didn’t even exist right now. Like she meant nothing to him. Nothing but the wind in the air. Something you don’t even bother in registering every day. Like how you breathe in air in your lungs.
You don’t notice until it’s gone.
“Has he been given his medication?” He would ask you, as his hands would be firm on the bed side. Just seeming to assert his dominance with standing over the man. Like some got over the little people.
“Yes Jimmy. He’s been medicated. We are actually in the middle of washing him. It would be nice if there was some privacy-“ You tried to gently hint at, only for it yo fall on deaf ears.
"The crash really did do a number on you. You don’t even have a dick anymore. Just holes huh-?” Jimmy would scoff, as that was your final straw. You would give Jimmy a hard hip bump, and quickly covered Curly up. To give him dignity and respect.
“Hey-! Watch it! Don’t think because you are Curly’s little eye candy doesn’t mean you can go pushing people around-“ Jimmy would bark at you.
You didn’t feel fear.
Jimmy was messing with YOUR man now. Curly deserved dignity and respect. He doesn’t deserve to be called a ‘set of holes’ no way in hell. No one deserved that and ESPECIALLY not Curly.
“Will you just shut up?! What the hell are you even doing here?! Aren’t you the Captain now? Captains are suppose to be doing whatever it takes to help the crew. All you’ve been doing is walking around and insulting everyone! It’s like you don’t want us to be saved. Be a Captain and take some responsibility already-!”
The anger that he had for you was terrifying. You swore it was like a switch. He suddenly seemed taller, bigger, angrier, more intense. You felt like you were shrinking more and more. Like you would melt into a puddle under that heated stare.
But you refused to.
For Curly.
“Listen here you-“
SLAP
You smacked him across the face. Was like the world went mute. No one was so much as breathing. Just the stares of shock from Anya and Curly.
“Get. Back. To. WORK.”
You ordered, and he listened.
He would hold his red cheek, and walked away like a dog with its tail between its legs. As if he was all talk and no bite. That he couldn’t bring himself to be more than an angry voice.
Someone needed to keep him in his place.
“Can this damn ship get any more hectic?” You sighed with your fingers to the bridge of your nose. Just trying to think clearly.
That’s when Anya found her voice.
“I’m pregnant.”
You opened your eyes wide, and was frozen in place.
Did you hear that right? No no. No way. Why would she be pregnant? How would she get pregnant? Who would get her…
“Oh my god.”
You slowly turned around to Anya with the puzzle pieces falling into place. You finally realized what had happened.
Jimmy never was a responsible man.
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#mouthwashing#mouthwashing fandom#mouthwashing fanfic#curly x reader#captain curly x reader#Captain curly#mouthwashing Anya#mouthwashing x reader#mouthwashing x you#mouthwashing curly#mouthwashing jimmy#tw jimmy#fuck you jimmy#x reader#I’m still so shocked you guys all wanted more#I hope you guys like it#I didn’t plan for a part two so like this might be a bit weird and messy#forgive me#but you gotta give the people what they want#hope yall like#thank you again for the support#means the world to me#it really does#thank you#thank you so much#yall are wonderful#writers on tumblr#writer#writer on tumblr#part 2
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Could you write another lover massaging the yanderes but with Levi Ackerman, Annie, Ash, Sebastian, Yui and Angel Devil(with some sort of clothing covering him probably or another solution you can think of) ?
Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, mentions of self-harm in Ash's part, mentions of sexual assault and scars in Yui's part
Tags: @lovley-valentine7 @leveyani @chxxz @shumidehiro @cachamata
Receiving a massage from their s/o
Sebastian Michaelis
🐈⬛Oh~? What do we have here? The level of smugness emitting from this man as soon as you offer to massage him after a particularly stressful day in the Phantomhive manor is unmatched, red eyes regarding you with a mixture of arrogance yet also fondness. This man teases you so much about your offer, especially if you didn't have the fondest opinion of him at the beginning. Still, he would never deny any physical contact with his mate, especially if his darling is the one initiating it. Still, as long fingers slowly remove every piece of clothing from his torso you can't ignore the suggestive gleam in his eyes. Quite honestly, the way he undresses in itself is almost inappropriate for some reason and the more you can't help but stare the more suggestive it seems to get. You're certainly nowhere as good as he is and for the first few moments his perfectionistic nature gets the better of him as he corrects you teasingly where to touch him to make him feel good. After a while he falls silent though and just enjoys the touch of his mate, the occasional growl of enjoyment escaping his chest which catches you off-guard the first few times.
Ash Landers
▫️The thought of that much skinship almost has the angel feeling dizzy as soon as you offer him to massage him. You do not owe him anything at all, he doesn't mind the stress and frustration he feels with such a rotten world as he does it all for you. You actually need a good few minutes before he caves in, your impending disappointment and sadness much more painful for him than his principles. He gets quite flustered as he removes his clothes though, soon followed by a wave of shame as soon as he reveals some of the wounds he has inflicted himself when not feeling good enough for you which haven't faded away despite him healing faster than humans. Honestly, he's terrified. His heart is pounding against his chest, constantly worried that you will criticise him somehow which makes him exceptionally stiff as soon as you start. That tension remains for quite a while though soon you also notice that he's trying to stiffle groans or any other sinful sounds whenever you find a good spot. His pale cheeks quickly take on a pink hue, one he doesn't want you to see as he tries to hide his face. The moment he finally does relax he finds himself tearing up, touched by your kindness.
Annie Leonhardt
💗There has to be an already established trust between her and you or otherwise Annie won't feel comfortable enough with your suggestion. She is in need of some relaxation though considering that she is constantly brooding over everything that has happened. Initially she denies you though after some awkward seconds of thick silence have passed by between her and you. Do not pester her too much or else she will get irritated and rude, do it the right way so that she doesn't feel annoyed. Once you have managed to convince her that she should try to relax for once and that you just want to treat her well Annie is doing her best to hide how flustered she actually is deep down behind her cold facade. Her control flips away though the more layers of clothes she removes until there is a dust of pink on her cheeks. Still, she is very tense and constantly steals glances at you once you start touching her as she isn't quite used to being so vulnerable with someone. Convincing her to relax and loosen up takes a while, all her muscles stiff as if she feels the need to be on alert. Once she slowly learns how to unravel a bit she stops her cautious glances and just silently enjoys the experience.
Levi Ackerman
⚔️Levi struggles to be openly vulnerable after all the tragedies he had to experience throughout his life and you could almost say that it low-key scares him to reveal that much of his heart and thoughts to his darling. Whilst he doesn't outright denies you when you offer him a massage there is still a long pause as you can see the hesitation and conflict deep within his eyes. He struggles with the idea of being so defenseless, of having that amount of physical contact he probably hasn't experienced since he was a baby and held in the arms of his mother. Needless to say, he's awkward and conflicted even once he complies. There is that fleeting look he gives you once he unbuttons his shirt and reveals his battle-damaged torso to you as if he wants to gauge if there is any hint of shock or unease on your face in which case he would instantly stop this idea. He flinches the first few times you touch his body before he forces himself to stay still yet it still takes him quite a while before he slowly allows himself to relax a tad bit more and to loosen up his tense muscles. It's a strange sensation though, a level of comfort he isn't quite used to as he just bathes in the soothing silence between the two of you.
Komori Yui
💎Normally Yui latches on to every bit of affection her darling gives her, especially after everything she went through. However, she is quite hesitant when you ask her if you could give her a massage. There a bite marks all over her body from whenever someone from the Sakamaki or Mukami brothers sucked her blood against her will and it elicits feelings of shame and insecurity awake within her. She's worried that you may find those scars ugly which is why she finds herself having a hard time agreeing to it. It needs reassurance from your side until she agrees. There are still doubts within her mind and even though you assure her that she doesn't need to feel pressured Yui does as you tell her simply because she is deep down scared that she'll lose you otherwise. Trembling fingers still give away how much she is still in distress as she undresses even if she does her best to act like she is fine with it. None of that fear is directed against you though which is why she is begging you to continue whenever you ask her if it's really alright for her. She feels bad for the way her muscles tense and tremble even after she finally relaxes, her body finally recognising you as her safe haven.
Angel Devil
👼Angel Devil finds himself tilting his head, expressing some concerns regarding his abilities to steal the lifespan of those who touch him. Some part of him is still mildly interested to know what massage feels like as he has heard occasionally about all the therapies and the advantages of it. Now, ususally he isn't a fan of being ordered around too much due to his lazy nature but he makes exceptions for his darling. The only thing he insists on is that you cover your own hands as well as his back to avoid any skin contact. Honestly, he has zero ideas of what to expect despite what he has heard in the past as he just lays down, putting an amount of trust in you he very rarely grants other people. The sensation of being touched, even if only through layers of clothing, in such unfamiliar and intense ways catches even him by surprise though for the first few moments. As soon as he has categorised the sensation as pleasant though he lets you carry on whilst he just enjoys the fact that he has to do nothing at all and can just enjoy this massage. Angel Devil finds himself more than once dozing off between sessions, lazy eyes opening before closing once more.
#yandere black butler#yandere kuroshitsuji#yandere sebastian#yandere sebastian michaelis#yandere ash#yandere ash landers#yandere attack on titan#yandere aot#yandere shingeki no kyojin#yandere snk#yandere annie#yandere annie leonhardt#yandere levi#yandere levi ackerman#yandere diabolik lovers#yandere dl#yandere yui#yandere komori yui#yandere chainsaw man#yandere csm#yandere angel devil#yandere x reader#black butler x reader#kuroshitsuji x reader#aot x reader#attack on titan x reader#snk x reader#diabolik lovers x reader#chainsaw man x reader#csm x reader
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if you're up for it, would love to see a mildly angsty fluff daryl x reader piece where reader is one of the people at the prison who gets hit with the flu and while daryl is explaining the plan to go get the meds, reader jokingly asks if he can bring back a treat if she promises to be a good patient. cut to the aftermath of the prison fall and reader ends up getting out with help from michonne before they run into rick and carl and eventually reunite with daryl during the stand off with the claimers. the next morning daryl and reader finally get a moment to themselves to just breathe for a second and daryl pulls out a lollipop he had found back at the gas station when they were on the medicine run and shyly hands it over to reader
five seconds
⇚ NAVIGATION || MASTERLIST
PAIRING: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader WORDS: 5.3k SUMMARY: Guilty for arguing with you right before you fell ill, Daryl’s determined to make it up to you by fulfilling your request. His goal to deliver it to you is interrupted by the fall of the prison and the intrusion of the Claimers. WARNINGS: angst to fluff. nose bleeding. expect mean daryl, i got mean daryl fever from crush by @ghostboneswrites2. attempted sexual assault during the claimers scene, basically the violence that took place during that particular scene. A/N: yes i am up for it i love love love this idea!!! i added my own twist to it too :)) so sorry it took three days i had no idea how to start it hsejkrkwa also it ended up being longer than i intended for it to be. hope u like it nonnie ! reblogs are appreciated!
Friends do things for each other, that’s just the way it is. Rick Grimes hands you a gun? Friends. Carol Peletier offers you a bowl of soup? Friends. Daryl Dixon looks at you for five long seconds before going to sleep? That’s… That’s classified.
Okay, friends. You might have been reading into it.
Friends—It’s what you tell yourself what you are with the archer whenever you volunteer to earn your keep alongside him who, for some reason, seemed to be blatantly avoiding you ever since that damned staring session.
It wasn’t the length of the stare. It was how he looked at you and how you felt yourself looking at him. The two of you were just returning to your respective cells, expecting the other to say goodnight only to end up staring at each other. The worst part is how it ended.
It was so quick that you could have missed it, but Daryl Dixon’s eyes fell to your lips for a split second before he turned away to hurriedly retreat to his cell. You tried not to think about it too much, but Daryl deliberately and very obviously dodging you made it hard to forget.
When you went out to hunt together as per routine, you expected to hold at least a conversation half a minute long. You missed talking to the archer, you had to admit it to yourself at least. Which is why it pissed you to the bone that the next time you ever talked again was the next accident.
“I had it under control!” you yelled at the archer, who didn’t seem to be too interested in your defenses. At your feet lay a walker whose head had served as a target for a bolt you knew all too well.
You watched as Daryl made his way over to you, fury evident in each step. “Hell ya mean under control? Ya ain’t cut out for huntin’! Ya should’ve sensed that walker from a mile away.”
“Woah, woah,” you humorlessly exclaimed, “I’ve been hunting with you since like, ever. The fuck you mean ‘I ain’t cut out for huntin’?”
“‘Cause ya aint! Could’ve gotten yerself killed, woman.” What was he so mean about?
You didn’t want to admit it, but he was right to some degree. If he hadn’t arrived in time, you would’ve been dealing with the aftermath of a walker bite by now. But it did not give him the right to speak to you like that. “Oh, you are not talking to me like that.”
“Just did,” he spat. “Now ya listen to me. Yer gonna return to camp and yer gonna—”
“Sit around and do nothing?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “You want me to knit you some sweaters, too? Make you holiday cookies?”
“Guard the damn fences,” he said. Daryl stepped forward to grab you by your arm. You dodge him before he could get a hold of you, glaring at him as you did so.
“I can walk by myself, thanks.” Before disappearing into the woods to return back to the prison, you flipped the guy off. What was up with him? You angrily mumbled to yourself, “It was just a walker.”
It’s been a while since that happened, and this time, it was you who didn’t dare to speak to him. You didn’t want to be the first one to approach him. After all, you did nothing wrong. And yet he had the audacity to avoid you again.
But it wasn’t that there were zero interactions, though. There were a handful, however blood boiling they were. You exchanged a couple glares whenever your eyes landed on one another.
The worst one was when Patrick extended his hand to Daryl in front of you while he thanked the archer for his contribution. After Daryl shook his hand, you had to butt in, standing up while eating a bowl of oatmeal instead of the cooked meat.
“Well, that’s Daryl! Isn’t he just great, Carol? Such an amazing huntsman!” you mused sarcastically, giving the three of them the brightest smile you could. Daryl could only watch as you walked away from the scene, his eyes drilling a hole at the back of your head as you kept going on and on: “I don’t know how I could ever compete!”
It didn’t take long for the group to catch on the heat.
You didn’t mind that part. What you did mind, though, was Daryl’s snide remarks whenever you’d mess up as a retort to what you’d said in front of Patrick.
Dropped a spoon? “S’why ya can’t be outside, can’t even hold a damn spoon righ’.”
But you weren’t gonna let that slide. Whenever he’d say something to the group, you had something up your sleeve, too.
He found an old warehouse west of the prison? “Oh, how splendid. Daryl and his plans. Everyone say ‘Thank you, Daryl’!”
The last rebuttal you could recall was after you finished your task digging a grave for the recent casualties. You were taking a quick break by yourself, setting your shovel aside. From a distance, you watched Glenn and Maggie continue to dig. You shuddered at the thought of turning with no warning of a bite.
Your body was sore all over from all the digging, your throat on the precipice of getting sore, and you felt the world beneath you sway uninterrupted.
The moment you made to leave the shovel against the wall, the world swayed even worse, sending you to Daryl’s grasp. “Damn it, woman, watch ya step. Ya ain’t gonna last long bein’ such a damn klutz.”
“Get off my back,” you said. You jumped out of his arms, glaring at him with the default face you’d grown used to using around him. You angrily grabbed your shovel again, dismissing that you weren’t even able to have a minute. You let adrenaline overtake your need for a break.
You’d be lying if you said you hated it. You did at first, but it kind of grew on you.
That was until a portion of the prison fell ill from the rampant spread of the flu. You decided Daryl wasn’t worth your time for the time being, dedicating your focus on doing what you can for the prison. You did find yourself looking out for him every once in a while, though. Just to make sure he was still healthy.
Not that it mattered or anything.
But you watched in horror as Tyreese held Daryl by his vest. You found yourself stepping forward, wanting to intrude but Daryl held his hand out to Rick, a way of saying ‘I got it.’
It bothered you that you felt a sort of responsibility towards the guy, however much of an asshole he was towards you. To be fair, you were just as bad to him. But you weren’t gonna admit defeat just like that.
“We’re on the same side, man,” he told the furious Tyreese. And after that, it was all a blur. You watched the fight unfold. You wanted to stop Rick, to hold him off Tyreese, tell him it was over, but you remained rooted to the floor, frozen.
You could’ve sworn you felt Daryl’s gaze on you before he managed to get Rick to stop until he did. Daryl stumbled backwards, bumping into you. Shivers went down your spine when he touched you by the waist to ask you, “Y’alrigh’?”
You looked back at him. That same look again.
One.
Two.
Three.
You turned away to wipe at your nose, sniffling. Unsure of what to do, you hurriedly left the scene. Once you were far enough, you wiped at your nose again. Then came a metallic scent you just could not ignore no matter how hard you tried. You thought it was just the rust of the metal bars infiltrating your senses.
But when you looked down at your hand upon the third wipe, you were met by the sight of blood.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
After settling the dispute out, Daryl made it his mission to search for you before the council meeting. To his surprise, you were not in your cell, not outside, at least not anywhere he could find in three minutes. Deciding—hoping—you were probably busy somewhere, Daryl got back to the council’s table.
Though he gave a fair share of ideas and listened intently, having even agreed to go on the run, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Before leaving, Daryl pulled Glenn aside, knowing he dug graves with you just a while ago.
He didn’t even know why he had the urge to ask the guy, because how could he possibly have any clue of your whereabouts? But he had to ask something. “[Y/N] ever said anythin’ ‘bout stuff she had to do or somethin’?”
“I don’t think so,” said Glenn, getting ready to seclude himself as well. “She’s probably isolated herself by now, too.”
“Isolate herself for what?” Daryl scoffed in a poor attempt to disguise his concern. Glenn watched him as if he were a madman.
“You didn’t see her this morning?” he asked the archer, who then said he did. The longer Glenn paused, the more Daryl followed. “She’s caught it, too.”
At that moment, Daryl understood his routinely misdirected anger—why he felt his heart practically burn a hole through his chest at the sight of that walker almost getting you, why he could no longer stomach bringing you along with him on runs and hunts, and why he let his stares linger.
Daryl Dixon understood why he kept his distance in fear of letting whatever it was he felt fester, burying it deep within himself where even he could not find it. Until he discovered that he had a bigger fear—a phobia, even.
The thought of losing you. And it was all the more clear to him now as he peeked through the small window to find you gripping one of the bars of a cell, keeping steady. You’d gotten weak since the last time he saw you, and he thought back to when you furiously went back to work after he’d interrupted.
He felt a guilt like never before, feeling responsible for your condition.
You caught sight of him from afar, and your eyes locked.
One.
Two.
You gestured to the visitation room. He nodded.
Finding yourself face to face with Daryl Dixon afterwards divided by a glass partition was something you didn’t expect you’d ever have to experience. You didn’t even think he’d care enough to take the time to do so.
Ever since you shared that long second stare, you’ve been wondering when you’d ever have the luxury of sharing it again. But even you couldn’t hold it for that long.
One.
Two.
Three.
“Go on, lay it on me,” you said.
You longed to hear his typical insults, the ones you were used to hearing by routine. Instead, Daryl, took a deep breath and told you, “M’sorry. ‘Bout everythin’.”
Safe to say that you were taken aback. You opened your mouth to tease him about it, but you had to look away as you felt the itch in your throat begging to be scratched inside. You coughed out loud, and Daryl couldn’t help but flinch at the sight of you.
“What, no ‘yer hideous,’ ‘serves ya righ,’ or even ‘fuckin’ idiot’?” you asked jokingly, attempting to make an impression of the way he talked.
“S’why I didn’t want ya out there,” he said, ignoring your attempt at triggering that part of him. It went out the minute he realized you were on borrowed time. “Didn’t want ya to risk yer life for some pig meat.”
You realized he’d gotten serious. You took your seat across from him, scrutinizing the way he looked at you. “Oh, and you’re allowed to?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, ‘cause I ain’t an idiot like you.”
“There it is,” you chuckled. Daryl laughed along with you, and it was the first time in a long time that you’ve laughed together. And when the moment passed came that damned stare again.
One.
You couldn’t hold it. “I don’t know how much time I have left so… Thanks for coming.”
Daryl snorted. Though he laughed, he was just as scared as you are. Maybe even more scared. “Ya ain’t gonna turn. We’re gonna head out ‘n get some meds. There’s a vet college some ways away from here, and I’m gonna make sure stupidity ain’t gon’ be the reason ya die. Ya ain’t dyin’, that’s final.”
“They got everythin’ there?” you asked.
“I dunno, Hershel gave us a list. Said it should have ‘em.”
“You know how things are, right? How everything usually doesn’t end up going the way you want it to. So…” You didn’t know what to say anymore. “On the off-chance it’s limited, I don’t want to hog any of it.”
“Whaddya mean?” the archer asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. He didn’t like where this was going.
“I mean that if there’s a shortage, I’m fine not getting it. I’ve been with these people for half an hour and… Daryl, they deserve a second chance. They want to survive.”
“And ya don’t?”
“I don’t know,” you confessed, sniffling. You weren’t crying, but your stuffy nose made it hard to breathe just as badly. Daryl’s heart sank. His guilt just kept growing knowing he’d been unreasonably rude to you just this morning and every morning that came before. “It gets tiring at times, but it does get fun when you spend it with the right people. But then again, who knows how long you’ll be having any of those, too?”
Daryl opened his mouth to say something only to take it back the instant he thought of it. I’m not gonna let ya die. He stuck to his stubborn script instead. This is what Daryl was avoiding; the burden of caring. “Yer gonna take the meds whether ya like it or not.”
You couldn’t help but smile at his stubborn drive. It was one of the many things you admired about him. “What, you’re gonna be all mean to me again if I don’t follow your instructions, Doctor Dixon?”
“Doctor wha—?” He stifled a laugh to no avail. It was through that moment that you found out that Daryl’s laugh was music to your ears. “Nah, we’re way past that. M’gonna start a new method. Ya do somethin’ good, ya get somethin’ good instead of gettin’ somethin’ bad when ya do somethin’ bad.”
“So reward punishment,” you suggested with a smile.
“Exactly.”
“So,” you began, “if I promise to be a good patient…”
“Uhuh,” he nodded.
“If I take the meds…”
“Mhm.”
“You’re gonna give me a treat?” You resisted the urge to joke about a kiss. It felt too early, and you worried it would spook Daryl away and ruin the moment.
“Yep.”
“Really?” you asked, grinning wider that it almost seemed as if you never even caught the flu. “Like, one of those lollipops they give out after a vaccine just so you stop crying?”
Daryl had no idea what you talked about, having never experienced getting one good check-up his whole life, depending his health on whatever remedies he and his brother can fashion on their own. But you seemed to be thrilled about it, and that was enough. “Yeah, like that.”
You pretended to consider it for a while, acting like you were deep in thought. “Alright, we have a deal, you fucker.”
He smirked. “Wipe that stupid smile off yer face.”
And though you didn’t take it too seriously, Daryl was already hatching a game plan he could use to find one for you the moment you mentioned it. After all, he was a man of his word.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
Daryl Dixon was one of the few people who valued solitude. This time, though, he found himself craving company long after the fall of the prison as well as when he lost Beth.
Thus, the universe sent the worst possible group to accompany him—the Claimers. Even he realized the change within him when he realized the difference in how he’d choose his company now and before.
It shook him to his core that he would have chosen this group had he not met Rick’s, had he not met you. As he and the Claimers made their way through the roads in search of the perpetrators they sought to give a piece of their mind.
Daryl decided he’d ride with the Claimers for survival, thinking to himself he’d be fine coasting with them for just a little while until he found the right opening to leave. That was, until he discovered that they’d been hunting the same group Daryl had been looking for, but with different motives.
“Hold up,” Daryl said carefully, so as to not rile the leader who had Rick dangerously at gunpoint.
“You’re stopping me on eight, Daryl,” the leader accused. You felt your heart sink from where you were, fearing how the scene would unfold. You held Carl’s hand to comfort him, but it was just as well an attempt to comfort yourself. Carl returned the sentiment.
Daryl stepped closer with caution. “Let’s hold up.”
One of the guys holding a shotgun opened his mouth. “This is the guy who killed Lou, so we got nothin’ to talk about.”
“Carl,” you whispered under your breath, not daring to move to even look at the kid. You could only hear a bit, but the silence in the car and the slightly opened windows was enough to let you hear a bit.
“The thing about nowadays is we got nothing but time,” the leader said. He kept his eyes on the archer. “Say your piece, Daryl.”
“These people,” Daryl started. “Yer gonna let them go. These are good people.”
You felt your heartbeat pick up its pace upon observation that the group’s leader was unimpressed. “Now, I—I think Lou would disagree with you on that. I, of course, would have to speak for him and all because your friend here strangled him in the bathroom.”
You whispered again, frozen in place. “Carl, I need you to get in the back. Slowly.”
“You want blood? I get it,” Daryl said. You watched as the archer dropped his crossbow and threw his arms open. The fuck is he doing? “Take it from me, man.”
Carl slowly brought his legs up to him, trying not to make a noise.
Daryl kept coming closer. “Come on.”
“This man killed our friend.” By the look on their leader’s face, you knew there was no way this would go in peace. “You say he’s good people. See now, right there is—is a lie.”
“Carl, hurry,” you whisper again. But his attempts at doing so is halted by the events that followed.
Daryl dropped his arms to his side, realizing the same as you. You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to stifle your frightened yell as one of them hit Daryl with the butt of a shotgun. You could only watch in fear as two of the men dragged him to the hood of the car you and Carl were in.
As they beat him shitless, Daryl looked up to find your face staring right back at him from inside the car. For a moment, he thought he was seeing you as he approached death, but his eyes widened in terror realizing you would be involved in the scene.
A wave of relief and dread coursed through him; relief that you had gotten out of the prison and dread that he wouldn’t be able to protect you this time.
The door swung open and a man yanked Carl out before you could even reach him. “C’mere, boy.”
“Carl!” Your door swung open as well, one of the men tackling Daryl just seconds ago hauling you off your seat as you tried to put up a fight.
“You leave him be!” you heard Rick yell over the commotion.
The man pointing a gun to Michonne wasn’t afraid to make his threats and intentions clear either. “You get yours. You just wait for your turn.”
You felt the threat of a knife to your throat and you got a whiff of a mouth that reeked of booze. You felt your perpetrator’s warm breath tickle the lines of your neck, taking you in.
You were terrified of what he’d do to you, what they’d do to Carl. “Let him go!”
“Not so fast, hot stuff,” the man taunted you, toying with your hair.
“No, get off her!” Daryl exclaimed as his assailant pinned him down as another guy ruthlessly beat him up. Daryl didn’t care.
“Listen, it was just me. It was just me!” Rick admitted, desperately trying to bargain for his group’s freedom.
“See, now, that’s right! That’s not some damn lie! If we can settle this, we’re reasonable men.”
“First, we’re gonna beat Daryl to death. Then we’re gonna have the girls, then the boy. Then I’m gonna shoot you and soon we’ll be square!”
You heard Daryl yelp as they beat him. “Stop hurting him!”
The leader of the gang looked at Daryl, then at you. His fucking stare made your blood run cold. “Maybe we can keep little Daryl here for a while, give him a little show. Make him watch.” His laugh sent ripples of unease throughout your body even as you were thrown to the ground, the man getting on top of you.
“No!” you heard Daryl exclaim as he put up a harder fight to no avail, his body already weakened. More so was yours.
“Claimed!” the man yelled, his eyes already feasting on you.
Everything was… You couldn’t think anymore. You felt your legs part open, and with it your head throbbed. The lack of sleep, the hunger, the thirst, everything was coming down all at once. You could only hear the wicked cackling of their leader, Rick yelling at the man to let go of his son—
Then it was ringing in your ears at the sound of a gunshot. And yet the nightmare didn’t end. You didn’t like it. Didn’t like any of it. The sniffing and the giggling… The hands on your waist as they trailed down…
You thought of nothing. Perceived nothing until you felt the hands gripping your body start to loosen. Maybe you were gone already, maybe… This is the end.
The weight on top of you was gone altogether, and you could hear Rick’s furious grunts as he plunged a knife deep into the throat of the man who took Carl. You looked up to find Daryl tussling with the man who was just on top of you.
“Daryl…” You were slipping in and out of consciousness, and a couple steps from where you lay you saw the two other men who’d been beating Daryl just moments before splayed unconscious on the cold concrete road.
The ringing in your ears was louder as you watched your assailant fall to the ground, and Daryl shoving his foot down his head in vengeance.
You lay there among the leaves, tilting your head up to the sky, only grateful Daryl was fine. He ran to you as soon as he did what he saw he had to do.
“[Y/N],” he called, scooping you into his arms and away from the floor. You wanted to stay awake, to ask him how he was, to confess you were scared shitless and you were tired of pretending you weren’t…
The last thing you could remember was Daryl holding you as you let slumber take you away.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
When you awoke, you thought you were back in the prison. For a split second, you thought you just had a horrible nightmare. As your eyes began to adjust to the sun, you realized you were in the front seat of the car with the backrest inclined for your comfort.
Michonne’s presence in the backseat told you otherwise.
“Michonne?” You looked around to find no one else. The windows were covered with different cloths, too. You looked down on her lap to find Carl fast asleep while Michonne caressed his face. “How is he? How are you?”
She looked up at you, an undeniable sorrow in her eyes. She was just as tired. “I’m fine. He’s shaken. What about you?”
The events of the night before flashed before your eyes. You had to shake your head to be rid of it. You needed air. “I’ve been better, I just need air.”
Michonne nodded, respecting your distance. “Rick’s right outside.”
“And…?”
“Daryl?” she asked, to which you nodded meekly. Michonne gave you a reassuring smile. “He stayed with you the entire time, he stepped out just now. He’s fine.”
“Oh, okay.” Fixing your hair, you returned her kind gesture with a warm smile as well. “I’ll just go get some fresh air, I think I need it.”
You swung the door open and hopped out. Once you walked forward, you jumped in shock. You didn’t expect to be in the same place from when everything happened. Just in time, Daryl popped out from the other side of the car. “You alrigh’?”
The corpses were still splayed out flat on the concrete and beside the road. You had to look away from the grotesque scene, your heart pounding. “Yeah, I’m fine—I’m okay.”
“You sure ‘bout that?” he asked. Daryl gave Rick a knowing look before patting him on the shoulder. Rick nodded, letting the archer know that he’ll be fine. Daryl moved towards you and tapped you by the shoulder. He took back his hand the moment you flinched, instinctively recoiling to physical touch.
“Sorry, I’m just—I know I don’t need to feel that way around you, it’s just—”
“I get it.” Daryl understood; he was there when it happened. But he’d make sure he’d also be there after. His hand hovered behind the small of your back. “May I?”
Daryl waited until you nodded before he let his hand rest on your back to guide you away from the mess.
“Let’s take a walk. Have some water,” he said, handing you a half empty bottle. You took big gulps religiously, craving its feel in your throat. “Thank you.”
You hand the bottle back to him only to realize that you had drunk all of its contents. “Oh, shit. Sorry.”
“Nothin’ ya gotta apologize for.”
You only nodded in response, still troubled by everything.
Daryl halted, gently touching you by your wrist. You’d never felt that sort of tender touch before, and it was easy to miss it once it ended. “Hey, I—uh, I almost forgot.”
“Hm?”
“Y’know, the terms of our agreement.” You watched as Daryl fumbled with himself, and a laugh escaped you. He seemed to be flustered with what he was about to do, but you could tell he’d been anticipating doing it by the pace he was searching. He checked his shirt pockets. When he dug into his jeans’ front pocket, he pulled out something small, then extending his hand to you. “M’sorry I only got two, I wasn’t sure what flavor ya wanted and I accidentally got them in the same flavor and there were walkers and I know it ain’t an excuse but—”
You took it. You kept eyeing the two lollipops in your hand. It was both strawberry-flavored, and it was one of those jumbo ones that were slightly bigger than the regular ones. “Daryl, that was a joke. You didn’t have to” — you snorted, a smile breaking on your face — “actually get me one.”
“Nah, I’m a man of my word.” Daryl returned your smile. “I say m’gonna get ya somethin’, then m’gonna get ya somethin’. Simple.”
“Well, then,” you said, handing him the other one. “You get the other one.”
“Nah, it’s yours.”
“No. Get it.”
“Nah,” he said.
If Daryl was stubborn, you were nothing compared to him. You stuffed the other one in his pocket. “There. And don’t even try to argue with me on it, I wanna have it with you.”
“Alright, alright.”
Heat rushed to your cheeks. He really did bother. You continued walking, Daryl followed.
“Ya don’t have to open it now, we need to get ya some more water first so yer throat doesn’t get sore again.”
“Thought this was my treat?” you teased. “For being a good patient?”
“Yeah, well, doctor says you should lay off it for a bit ‘til ya get some more to drink.”
You snorted. “Oh, yeah? What doctor.”
Daryl pointed to himself. “This doctor. Doctor Dixon.”
“You like that a lot, huh?”
“Actually, I hated it but… S’kinda growin’ on me.”
After you shared a laugh. There was that goddamn lingering stare.
One.
Two.
Three.
Daryl turned around, afraid the heat in his cheeks were possibly giving away how he felt with a faint blush. “We should—Whaddya say we head back?”
“Sure, wouldn’t wanna have you going down on one knee to propose,” you joked.
“Shuddup,” he said, lightly punching your shoulder.
On the whole way back, you talked together, just like you always did whenever the two of you were out hunting. Speaking with Daryl made everything else matter a little less that you don’t even realize how far you’ve gone until it comes into your mind.
While walking the tracks with Rick, Carl, and Michonne, the two of you walked slightly behind.
“I’m just saying, if we get to this place, it’s not gonna—!” You shrieked as your feet caught on one of the sleepers of the tracks. To your relief, Daryl caught you with his hand holding yours and his other hand assisting your waist.
The three turned around to check on you both. Rick called out, “You alright back there?”
“Yeah! We’re fine!” he said back. You were worried Daryl would drop your hand. He didn’t.
When no eyes lingered on either of you anymore, the stare you’d been yearning for returned, leaving you to wonder what would break it this time before it could reach five.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
To your surprise and your relief, Daryl smiled at you. And oh, did it feel melting. It was hard not to return his smile when it was so damn contagious. You were sure your heart was doing gymnastics at this point, feeling it beat so hard against your chest.
“What’re you looking at me like that for?” you asked the archer.
“Yer still fuckin’ clumsy as fuck,” he remarked with a teasing smirk.
He’d been dying to hear you laugh again, so he’s relieved that you do. “Welcome back. Thought you said you had your whole new justice system in store?”
“Well, doctors still gotta scold their patients, especially when the patient in question is an idiot.”
You rolled your eyes. “You have any rule in your book about doctors holding their patients’ hands? Y’know, like, ‘Don’t do that’?”
Daryl looked down on your intertwined hands, pretending to scrutinize it with careful thought. “I dunno, I think if the patient’s fine with it, then the doctor’s fine with it, too.”
You did the same only to look back up at him with a grin. “Patient says it’s fine. Is the doctor fine with it?”
“Doctor Dixon says it’s recommended to keep his patient healthy.”
“Patient has a request, though,” you tell him as you use your other hand to pull out your lollipop from your pocket. “She wants Doctor Dixon to share a treat together.”
“Doctor Dixon says, ‘What the hell’.” He does the same, pulling his lollipop out. You had to let go of each other’s hands for a bit to take off the wrapper before throwing it away. Daryl was the first to take your hand, eager to hold it again. You let him.
Throughout the entire journey to Terminus, all your fears and worries were at bay, all because Daryl never let go of your hand. The two of you talked about the sweetness of what you were having, how it was a great change from what you were used to eating. And it was right then and there that he knew he wanted to be holding your hand whenever, wherever, and however long he could.
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No Strings Attached [Ft. Billlie's Sheon and Tsuki]
Author's Note: Im out of Hiatus!!!
And finally the continuation of No Names Needed, fun fact - this idea of a sequel with both Tsuki and Sheon was in my brain for a long time, i only now found the inspiration, time and energy to write it.
By the time this will come out, it will be 2025 so happy new year everyone, hope yall thought about your resolutions and had the a blast for 2024, Soon also my writerversary will come as well (Feb 5th) so that is hype as well.
Lastly, just want to thank @defmaybe for helping with beta reading the fic, it kinda is quite a mess when it comes to plot but i honestly enjoyed writing this so much.
And without further ado, hope yall have a fun read
================================================
So after that entire situation at the club’s bathroom with the mysterious girl, a couple of questions are now stuck in your head:
Firstly, how did she manage to convince you for a second round at her place so easily?, It’s not like you were in the right headspace for any reason considering you just reviewed the best head of your life and you were excited to see more of her but still.
Second, what are the odds that just as you were ready to take off your shirt, her roommate just so happened to arrive from her shift? Having to sit quietly on their couch listening to the awkward argument of having to leave the dorm for tonight so her roommate could sleep in peace after a long shift.
And lastly: why are they now making out on the bed with their underwear only?
“Nghh…Sheon…” is the only her roommate (which you are still not sure about
Her name) can mutter between kisses, her voice is sweet on the ears, especially when she moans with how her partner latches her luscious lips (which you can vouch for by experience) latch on a particular spot on her neck, “so good…”
“Yes unnie, it is so good” it's the way Sheon elongates the last two words which raises the sexual tension inside the room, and her hands are not left idle, rubbing her right thigh back and forth.
“And look, he is so hard for us right now” she adds before slightly tilting her roommate's face toward your naked erection, everything happened so fast you don't even remember when you took off your pants. “What do you say, oppa, ready for round two?”
“Fuck, as long you tell me your cute roommate's name,” you finally respond, already inching closer to them with impatience and lust. However, it seems like Sheon has other plans.
“That’s not how it works” Sheon lets out a disappointed sigh, “You can't just get a girl’s name like that, first you need to let her suck your cock.” To any other person, Sheon’s response would be fucked up, but to you and the two girls? For some reason, it just makes sense. “But before all of that, let me get unnie to show her tits to us”.
Words quickly turn into actions as Sheon unclasped her roommate's bra, letting it fall onto the sheets, giving her mounds the full view they desperately needed. It's hard to pinpoint exactly her size, especially with how Sheon is not wasting a second by slowly pushing her friend’s face lower to face the tip of your hardness.
The last stretch though, she does by herself and honestly? Those two girls might as well be sisters since like Sheon, as soon as her lips wrap around the tip of your cock a switch flips in her head, immediately starting with slow and steady bobbing movement toward the base of your cock.
She even has the same deadly stare Sheon has when she looks up, seeing your eyes closed while biting your lips every time she gets your cock deeper inside her, letting out a soft mumble resembling a chuckle before increasing the pace and the passion she uses to drain you.
And it drives you fucking insane.
“Oh my god unnie, you suck his cock so fucking amazing” Sheon is shocked at the oral assault her roommate expertly does. “Let me just get naked and then I will start sucking his balls, okay, unnie?” Even with the immense pleasure you receive you can still see how Sheon quickly takes off her bra to reveal her rather small mounds before diving downward, facing your cock with a hungry gaze.
She shifts around to find a comfortable position near her roommate and then, without leaving you a place to get used to it, she immediately reaches her tongue forward, giving it a teasing lick that sends shivers to your brain never felt before.
The only thing you can do is grip the mattress of the bed, trying to find some semblance of control over your body while two professional arsonists set your body aflame with pleasure that can only be described as messy and the sounds they make doesn't help your situation.
“Mm shewon-” the black-haired girl muffles with your cock still inside her mouth, “he is swo hawrd-nghh…��� she manages to say to her friend, who seems to get excited with each moment seeing her friend being fucked.
“I know, right? I bet he really likes it when girls like us suck his big, thick cock,” Sheon responds while her hands go to her roommate's hair, moving it from her face to give more space, then she turns to you. “What about you, oppa, getting close for my unnie?”.
You can only nod in response, as any other will take too much energy from you. “That's great oppa,” Sheon adds, taking a look sideways and see how into the feeling the other girl, you could bet she’s not even hearing a word of your conversation as her entire soundscape consistent of licking, slurping and moaning, all which gets you closer to what they have been waiting.
But then, Sheon rises from her position, moving herself from near her roommate to now sitting behind you. You can feel how one of her hands snakes up from behind, gliding across your naked chest before leaning her mouth to your right ears, whispering the magic you didn't know even existed.
“Fill her”
And all hell breaks loose. This simple request is enough to send you into overdrive, as you quickly put each of your hands on the black-haired girl’s head for control before releasing your first shot of your load into her mouth.
And it just doesn't stop, your mind is all hazy only focusing on that request, each buck of your hips forward gets you reaching the back of her mouth with your cock and then unloading another round of cum down her throat, getting the both of you to release a moan.
Sheon? She’s ecstatic, jumping up and down behind you frantically. Each pump of yours gets her giggling and smiling wider. “Yes, yes, yes!!, fill her oppa, fill my Tsuki unnie, she's such a slut for your big cock, let her have all of it” As if she knew all of your sweet spots, she reached her lips to your ear, giving it a loving kiss which gets you hornier.
Below you, Tsuki lets out tears from the pleasure overtaking her entire body, each drop of cum getting inside her gets her moaning while her hands gripping your thighs to not faint, meanwhile managing to mutter a slutty, needy “more” every time she takes her lips out to catch her breath, before taking you in further.
Your last drops of your white load eventually gets swallowed by Tsuki’s, pulling her lips out of your cock and letting you fall onto the bed, pleasure blurs every bit of your vision, finally having time to catch your breath for the first time of the night and your heartbeat to slow down.
“Fuck…you two…are insane” is the only thing you manage to say between heavy breaths.
“And the best part, oppa? We're not over yet,” Sheon says, her voice still seductive, you manage to raise your head and see the two girls as you suddenly notice something: their panties are off.
In front of you are now two girls, fully naked, presenting themselves to you in their full glory, Sheon with a slutty smile and a bite on her lower lip while Tsuki demeanor is more reserved however her eyes share the same curiosity and excitement as her roommate. Immediately, this gets you up and running once again.
“That's right Oppa, you still didn't have the chance to cum on Tsuki unnie's thighs…or inside my ass, and especially…” She then goes behind Tsuki, quickly inserting two digits into her pussy while her other hand goes to grope one of her tits, getting Tsuki to gasp in surprise from the surprising touch over her body.
“You didn't get to cum inside our tight little pussies, Oppa,” she adds, now you're fully immersed in the show in front of you.
“Who knows, maybe a round or two later we could hear your name, right?”
It’s that question that guarantees both to them and to you that tonight's gonna be unlike any other night you ever had in your life.
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MOVED TO @seratopia
miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - touchy touchy
modern ceo au! thinking about how miguel touches you so often around the office that a random guy decides to do something about it
You and Miguel don’t share a workplace. He’d end up being your boss anyway, and as much as you love spending time with him, it’s not good to have a partner that also gives you your paycheck. (Plus, distance can equal longing.)
Miguel constantly insist that you stay at home, and that he’d provide you with everything you could ask for but... feminism???( /j ) You have your own job conveniently down the street from Miguel’s office; it’s more of a hobby than it really is a job, but it gets you money.
The whole building knows you as “Miguel’s Wife”; you visit often. Sometimes your visits are a surprise, others it’s when you have nothing to do so you just hang by Miguel all day. You’re blessed with free food from the cafeteria, plus the gym. It’s fun to watch Miguel work out.
Though, today was... funny.
Whenever Miguel thinks you guys are alone, he’s touchy. However, to Miguel, “alone” is just being in a room with less than 6 people in it. So, needless to say, his employees have seen things.
You’re just so pretty, so cute to him, he can’t help but just worm his way over to you whenever in sight.
Things along the lines of kisses, waist grabbing, thigh grabbing, hugs, back hugs, and even ass-slapping are a common sight to see when you’re around the office. Miguel truly, genuinely believes that he’s being sly, but that’s probably because everyone’s too scared/nice to say anything about it. Perks of being a CEO.
No one really tells the new recruits about it though, it’s just a you-see-it-and-get-used-to-it type of thing.
So imagine your surprise when someone in the office pulls you aside one day and asks if Miguel is sexually assaulting you.
Miguel’s been lingering his hands all over you today in particular, boldly sliding his big hand down towards your ass. You elbow him a little when he gets too close though, especially around a few people.
“¿Por favor, querida?“ He whines, slithering his hand back onto you.
“Oh my gosh, Miguel, no. Wait until we’re out of work.“
All is well, but Miguel has to tend to a few things, so you take it upon yourself to take a break at the cafeteria. Might as well bring him a drink while you’re at it.
Halfway through your walk there, some guy you’ve seen around taps on your shoulder and pulls you aside. He’s relatively young, has this assertive look to him. Among the quirky pins on his shirt pocket, you find an ID card labeled “INTERN.”
The worry on his own face makes you a little anxious.
“Ma’am, are you okay?“ He asks, meeting his eyes with yours. He looks serious, peering from left to right as if a secret was being exchanged.
“Uh- yeah, what do you mean?“
His voice is low, almost a whisper. “Girl, I’ve seen Miguel grope you... do you want me to call the police? I have a video right here as pr-“
A gust of relief washes over you, and you almost start to laugh. You watch as the guy starts to pull up his phone, before you stop him.
“Oh, no no no, it’s okay!“ You exclaim. “Miguel’s my husband, he’s just clingy!“
The man raises an eyebrow, concern lacing his voice. “You aren’t just saying that, right? Like, you’re really okay?”
“Yes, don’t worry. If he was actually bothering me, then I’d tell him.“ You chuckle, just to ease up the serious air a little bit.
“Ah, well if you say so... If anything happens, just let me know.“ He says.
“Yeah, thank you for the concern, though.“ You smile, and he smiles back, walking away around the corner where you assume he came from.
With a little laugh, you continue your walk towards the cafeteria, thinking deeply about the interaction. It might be time for you to tell Miguel to stop touching you often around the office, as much as you enjoy it. He’d hate despise it though.
If it weren’t for you being around so often, work life might not be as pleasant for his employees. You don’t think Miguel truly notices, but he starts getting huffy and puffy when you aren’t around to see him; people get a little more scared of him when he has this scowl on his face.
“Who was that?“
You violently flinch, yelping out loud. In one swift motion, you swerve around, your heartbeat only easing down when you realize it’s just Miguel.
“Miguel, honey, you gotta stop scaring me.“
“...Sorry. Who was that?“ He asks, obvious curiosity in his voice. Almost like it was muscle memory, he slips both hands onto your sides, reminding you of the topic at hand. (literally lmao)
“Just some guy... you know what he asked me, though?“
“If it was on a date he’s getting fired.“ Miguel promises darkly, squeezing at the fat of your sides.
“No, Miguel. He asked if you were assaulting me. Even asked me if he wanted me to call the police.“
“Assaulting?“
“Yeah, because you keep on doing things like this-“ You place your hands on his. “- to me every time I visit!“
Like a guilty puppy, Miguel pouts to the side, reluctantly slipping his hands away from you. It takes you everything not to laugh at him as he grumbles to himself, that signature scowl building onto his face.
“It’s fine, Miguel. You can still touch me. Just tone it down a bit when we’re around people, yeah?“
Miguel nods, slowly inching his fingers towards your hands. “Yeah. M’sorry.”
“Miguel, it’s fine. It’s not like I hate it, it might just be uncomfortable for your employees.“
Miguel sighs, dipping down his head to rest on your shoulder. He catches a whiff of your body wash, sweet and comforting. You giggle, a sound that Miguel would kill to hear for everyday of his life. You slide your own hands over onto his broad back, tracing your fingers against the muscle through his shirt.
“I just... I think I love you too much.“ He mumbles, and your ears almost strain to hear it.
“Awh, you know I love you too.“ You sweetly reply, squeezing him into a tight hug. He’s so darling, compressing you tight against him.
“Just let me have this, and I’ll leave you be for a bit, hm?“ Miguel mutters into your ear, indulgently smoothing his big hands over your little back. Chills run up your spine when he presses a smooch to your ear.
“Yeah, we’ll see how long that’ll last...“ You chuckle, letting him do what he wants for the time being.
It takes Miguel longer than he really should to let you go, adoration clearly written on his face as he detaches his arms from you.
“You wanna grab coffee with me before you have to go back?“ You ask, beaming at Miguel with a natural smile.
Miguel doesn’t know what to do with himself. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
You break off into a walk through the hallway, and Miguel has to remind himself every minute or so to keep his hands off.
. . .
It didn’t work.
Already in line for coffee, Miguel’s chin rests on top of your head, acting as if the previous conversation was entirely wiped clean from his memory.
You sigh, knowingly speaking to the barista as if you didn’t have a 6′9 CEO strapped to your back like a koala.
“Baby, what did we say?“
“Sorry...“
miguel is 6′9 because i said so and because of this tiktok
© 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔.
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x y/n#atsv miguel#atsv x reader#atsv#atsv miguel o'hara#spiderman#spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse#x reader#reader insert#fluff#romance#ceo au#cosmosis-writes ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎
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Happy House | NR | I
Summary: Natasha suspects something is seriously wrong when you suddenly hand in your notice as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent
Word Count: 2.9k
Warnings/Content: Domestic Abuse / Verbal Abuse / Physical Abuse / Violence / Sexual Assault / Rape
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“Sorry to interrupt Director Fury, Hill said I should pass this on to you myself” you said as you snuck around the door to Nick’s office, surprised to see another agent with him. “What is it?” He said “My resignation sir” you answered, not missing the glance from the redhead at Nicks side “I’m sorry to hear that Miss Y/L/N, we will miss you in the offices” Fury sighed with full authenticity “Thank you Sir, I will work my weeks notice with the most attention” you spoke through small shakes. “Well I wish you all the best” Nick rose from his chair to shake your hand “Thank you Sir, Agent Romanoff, apologies for the interruption” you nodded to the agent and director “Not at all” you heard behind you as you closed the door. “What was that?” Natasha said the second the door was shut “what was what?” Nick questioned “you’re just gonna let her leave?” The redhead exclaimed “she’s handed in a resignation Romanoff, there’s nothing I can do” Nick said “she’s your best office agent! I mean her reports are superior not to mention her tech skills!” Natasha pleaded “Well I didn’t know you took such interest in every member of the office Nat” Nick teased with a suspecting look “shut up” Nat said as she smacked him lightly in the arm, also giggling.
You trudged home through the snow that night, having given up on your boyfriends lift home. There were no lights on, visibly from the outside of your small apartment, you hoped that Dylan would be sleeping. You crept in quietly, shaking off as much snow from your boots as you could. Walking silently through the hall you came to the living area, a sudden overhead light alerting you to someone’s presence “where have you been?” Dylan said, slurring his words “baby you scared me” you smiled, hoping to defuse the tension. “I said, where have you been?” Your boyfriend said again, rising to his feet on shaky legs “you said your shift finished at 4:30, and what time is it now?” Dylan asked “it’s 6, but you see I had to stay late there was so much to do and I-“ you began to mumble before Dylan cut you off “oh shut up!” He screamed as he launched his beer can towards your head. You managed to doge it at the last second “if I find out that you’ve been with that Romanoff, I’ll kill her, then you’ll realise what happens to bad little girls” your boyfriend raged as he closed the Space between you both. “No baby, I wasn’t” you mumbled, feeling the cold wall against your back “she doesn’t even know my name, but you know I did give in my resignation, just like you asked” you could smell the alcohol on Dylan’s breath as he leaned in to give you a harsh kiss. “Good girl” he grumbled “now why don’t you get dinner started, I’m starving” he finished as he finally backed away.
“Natasha come on” Clint groaned “you said you’d be done with the report by now” he said. “I am done with the report” Nat said, her eyes still glued to her laptop. “So what are you doing?” Clint asked, “I’m just… looking into some of our agents” the redhead said. Clint came to his best friends side hovering over her shoulders “and why would you be doing that?” He asked. Natasha paused for a moment, debating if she should tell Clint the real reason she was looking over your file. “There’s this girl, from the offices downstairs, and something just seems off” the redhead said. “How do you mean?” Clint said with intrigue. “She’s been with shield for 5 years and last week she handed in her resignation. I’ve only spoken to her a few times but she seems so dedicated like she really loves it here. She’s never had a sick day she’s always in early but in the last few months somethings changed.” Natasha explained. “How so?” Clint asked. “She’s sheepish, tired, frail. She’s different” Natasha said, keeping some of the information from her own eyes to herself. “So what are you thinking” Clint asked as he eyed the laptop screen. Nat pointed towards your relation details “she updated her profile 6 months ago, added some boyfriend as her emergency contact” the widow said. “It’s the only noticeable change along with her personality” she finished. “You think there’s something wrong?” Clint said. “Maybe” Nat sighed.
You were backed into your bedroom as Dylan walked towards you. “I told you, you’re not going out tonight” he said as he continued to stomp at you. “I got tonight off work so we could be together” he said, faux sweetness in his voice. “I know” you whispered “but my friends they wanted to throw me a leaving party” you said. “What friends?” Dylan asked as he took hold of your shoulders. “My work friends” you whimpered as his grip tightened. “Romanoff?” Dylan shouted as he twisted in his stance and threw you against the bedroom wall “I thought I told you what would happen if you went mingling with that freak” he hissed at you. “No no it’s not her, just my friends from the office” you said through shaky breaths “friends?” Dylan scoffed “who’d wanna be friends with you?” He laughed. Dylan trailed his hands down your body and pushed his fingers into your hips pinning you against the wall “I thought we’d stay here and… you know” he said as he lent forward, his breath got against your face. “Dylan I’m gonna be late, everyone’s waiting for me at the restaurant” you whispered “you are not going anywhere” your boyfriend said as he gritted his teeth. Dylan took a step back and slowly walked towards the door, pushing it shut and locking it “get on the bed” he instructed. You knew better than do disobey him.
Clint put the car into park and leaned over to stop Natasha from climbing out “I don’t think this is a good idea” he said “we can’t just crash her leaving party” Natasha shrugged “we’ll just say it’s a coincidence” she said, opening the door and jumping out before Clint could say anything else. Of course Natasha had this planned out, she had called the restaurant this morning and booked a table so it was no trouble when she walked right in dragging Clint behind her. The two were sat at a small table near the back of the small restaurant, and it didn’t take long to find out where your party was sitting, the only problem was, you weren’t there. “She’s probably just stuck in traffic” Natasha heard one of your coworkers say “no she only lives round the corner she’d usually walk” Sarah, another of your coworkers, said. Clint flashed Natasha a worried glance, having been listening in to the conversation as well.
You rolled slowly over to your side of the bed, your thighs sore and your hips throbbing. “See that wasn’t so hard was it?” Dylan said as he leaned over to kiss your cheek “it’s always best when you listen to me” he said. You pulled the duvet up above your shoulders as Dylan got up out of bed “right I’m going out” he huffed “and you are staying here” he said as he pulled the duvet off your bruised body “make me something nice to eat” he demanded. You stayed frozen as you listened to Dylan shuffling through your apartment, flinching suddenly when the front door slammed shut. You pulled your legs up to your chest as you sat up, bringing your hand up to cover your mouth as you cried. There was no way out of this hell, you’d tried again and again. Taking a job at S.H.I.E.L.D was supposed to be your ticket out but when you were passed over for a promotion to field agent you knew it wouldn’t be that easy.
On his way out, Dylan took a look at your phone and found the name of the restaurant your co workers were at. He made his way down the apartment building stairs and onto the street, taking a short walk around the corner to the restaurant. He strode through the doors and brushed off the waitress flashing him a kind smile. “Dylan!” Sarah, your colleague called “what are you doing here where’s y/n?” She asked “oh she’s not feeling well, she sends her apologies and sent me along to make sure you were all having a good time” your boyfriend said as he pasted a smile across his face. “The boyfriend?” Clint quietly asked, Natasha nodded her head yes as she watched Dylan from the corner of her eyes. “Oh that’s such a shame!” One of your colleagues said as she moved to hug your boyfriend. “Somethings not right” Natasha said having been tuned into the conversation “she wouldn’t miss this, she’s too much of a people pleaser” she said. “Sounds like someone else I know” Clint remarked, attempting to defuse Natasha’s tension. The widow glared at him with a hint of humour before an idea came to her mind. “Let’s go” Natasha said as she stood up “go where?” Clint asked. “Well if Dylan’s here and y/n’s not then I have a pretty good idea where she might be, and she’s there alone” the redhead said as she stealthily made her way towards the exit.
You hobbled around the kitchen slowly, a slight limp in your steps. The room was filled with the sizzling of the steak atop the pan, you moved around on auto pilot cutting up vegetables for a salad. You focused on the throbbing pain in your hips and watched as a small purple bruise began to form along your arm. You were used to this by now, completely alienated from your body as you recovered until the next time. The kitchen fell silent as you took the steak off the heat, reminding you of the presence of the ticking clock on the wall. Too focused on the thoughts circling in your head, you failed to notice the gentle click of your front door and the almost inaudible squeak of its hinges. You winced as you opened the freezer door with your sore arm, cursing under your breath at your own stupidity. You reached for the frozen vegetables when a voice from behind startled you. “Y/n?” you spun round in shock and your eyes met the same redhead you admired so much. “Natasha?” You asked with wide eyes “what are- how did you get in here?” You stuttered as your breathing picked up a rapid pace. The widow took in your dishevelled appearance and the smudged mascara underneath your eyes. “Did he do this?” She said as she reached out for your bruised arm “what?” You shrieked as you pulled away from Natasha “who? What are you talking about?” You asked as you felt the panic rise into your chest. “Dylan” Clint said, speaking up from behind the concerned redhead. “How long has this been going on?” Natasha asked as she took a sceptical step towards you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about” you said dismissively.
Avoiding eye contact with the concerned avengers you continued to potter about the kitchen. “I think you should leave, Dylan’ll be back for his dinner soon” you said. “What, he’ll be back from your leaving party” Natasha countered as she followed your footsteps. “Yeah, I’m not feeling great so I sent him along by himself” you grumbled in annoyance. “Oh right but you’re well enough to cook him a steak” the widow said becoming increasingly more angry. “What are you implying?” You asked “I’m not implying anything, I’m telling you that I know what’s going on” the furious redhead said. “Nat” Clint warned at his friend’s increasing temper. “Nothing is going on! Get out!” You yelled “y/n look at yourself!” As she took the empty plate from your hands. “Natasha” Clint sighed as he stepped forward “how did you get that bruise?” The widow asked “and before you lie, remember what it is that I do” she said. “I…I fell over the other day” you stuttered. Natasha let out a frustrated sigh as she turned away from you, not wanting to hear anymore lies. “Y/n that’s a recent bruise” Clint said calmly. “No it’s not” you argued “and the limp? You’re gonna tell me you got that when you fell over too right?” Natasha said as she twisted around to face you again. “Ye-yes…I…tripped on the stairs” you said anxiously. “Liar!” Natasha yelled.
The room was silenced when the front door slammed with a large bang; Natasha didn’t miss the way your body flinched. “Y/n?” Dylan said as he stomped into the kitchen “what’s going on?” He asked with faux sweetness. “Sorry, I’m Clint from S.H.I.E.L.D” the archer said as he extended his hand “we just wanted to see if y/n here would consider extending her notice. She’s an exceptional agent and will be a huge loss for us” Clint said. “Well I think she’s made up her mind, right honey?” Dylan nodded as he slipped his hands back into his pocket “yeah” you huffed quickly “yeah that’s right”. Natasha watched closely during this exchange, eyes running the length of Dylan’s hand to examine them for any signs of harm. “Okay” Clint sighed “then we’ll get out of your hair” he smiled “keep in touch okay kid” he said to you as he handed over a card with his phone number. Dylan stepped aside as the two agents headed for the door “goodnight y/n” Natasha said as she turned back to you, a sad smile pasted on her face. “Goodnight” Dylan said for the both of you, silencing your words and ending the conversation. You watched as red hair cascaded down the corridor, you wondered if that would be the last time you saw Natasha.
You avoided Dylan’s gaze as you began serving up his food “dinner’s ready” you said “do you want a beer? Or is water fine?”. Your boyfriend eyed you suspiciously as you frantically ran around the kitchen. He reached for your arm as you passed him, using his fingers to dig into the fresh bruise on your skin “I don’t remember saying you could have guests over” he spat at you. “They…they were ju-just” you stuttered nervously “yeah yeah they were just asking if you’d extend your notice” Dylan said, annunciating each word with his harsh voice. “They just showed up I didn’t know they were coming” you whimpered as his grip began to hurt you. “Do you honestly think I would believe anything you say?” Dylan asked calmly, alerting you to what was coming next. “You are nothing but a lying, selfish little slut!” He suddenly screamed, releasing you from his hold but using that same arm to batter you in the stomach with each of his insults. “You were whoring yourself out to that fucking redhead weren’t you? But she didn’t want you so you invited that prick over too!” He yelled “what was the plan? They were gonna fuck you while I was out? Cause it’s all you’re good for bitch!” He continued to shout as his fits became rougher, knocking the air out of your lungs.
You managed to shuffle backwards away from your boyfriend “it wasn’t like that I swear!” You pleaded as you held your arms up in surrender, giving Dylan perfect access to wipe you out with a simple kick to your legs. You hit the floor hard, the room was starting to spin as you felt yourself being dragged across the cold tiles. This was it, he was finally going to do it. “You are the most worthless piece of shit on this planet!” Dylan spat as he placed his weight on top of your sore ribs “you know I only kept you around because you were a good fuck. I would’ve killed you a long time ago if you didn’t have anything to offer” he said as he roughly placed his hands on your chest. You had to get out of here, and not in a body bag. Your boyfriend became overwhelmed with his sexuality, lifting his weight up to lean down to your neck and litter it with harsh kisses. It was the fastest decision you ever made, but you knew it was now or never. Using all your strength you flipped your body to one side and used Dylan’s surprise to push him away. The hallway was small so it didn’t create much distance and he was sure to be even more mad at the way he hit the wall.
You scrambled to your feet as Dylan groaned on the floor. Sprinting through the house, you didn’t bother to grab anything before heading straight to the door. Your boyfriend was on his feet now, he was going to catch up unless you stalled him. When you passed through the doorway you turned on your hells and dragged down the tall cabinet leaning against the wall. It came crashing down and blocked the only exit from your apartment. You decided to take the stairs, not the elevator, there was no way you could stop now, your adrenaline wouldn’t let you stand still for one second. You finally made it to the lobby of your building and hurried straight past all the concerned faces looking your way. You came out into the cold night, wearing nothing more than shorts and an oversized shirt. You didn’t have a plan. You didn’t know where you were going. You just knew you had to run. So that’s what you did. Ran. You just ran.
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A/N: If this story has affected you in anyway please know you can always message me if you want to! Equally, there are so many resources available if you need support🤍
I’m an asshole for leaving you all with this cliffhanger before I take a break, see you in February hehe
- Astara Bell
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[Taglist]
@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @nev-valkyriesdottir / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904 / @strange-night-owl / @acciowriting / @hatergirl-69 / @lovelyy-moonlight
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#marvel#natasha romanoff#black widow#marvel fic#nat x reader#avengers#clint barton#clint x natasha#natasha romanoff x reader#agents of shield
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Needed to write a blurb to calm myself down after THOSE photos.
Plot: Jude’s girlfriend’s reaction after seeing the SKIMS photos
Jude*female reader. Posessive plus sexy. Some Nsfw language.
………………………….
‘So, you broke the internet today.’
Jude returned from the training camp to find this message from his girlfriend. Her reaction was the one he was waiting for the most.
All the lads in the team had given him enough stick since the photos dropped. Calling him a whore. He had laughed at some and just flipped off the others. But why was she taking so long to respond? He knew she was working but he had almost dialled her number to ask her to check insta.
Well, finally she had. Jude quickly changed into his sleeping shorts and climbed into bed, face timing her. She answered on the first ring.
‘Hey.’
‘Hey, doll.’
She was in bed too, in his favourite tank top. Jude’s smile widened immediately.
‘Some heads up would have been nice, you know.’
He tore his eyes away from her cleavage long enough to smirk back at her.
‘I did say it was a big one.’
‘Right. Big one. I see what you did there.’
Jude rolled on the pillows laughing, flashing his pearly whites & boyish chuckles. Eyes sparkling with charm. He switched from a sweet, young boy to a sexy boy-toy so often and in a split second - always blowing her mind.
The blanket fell down till his waist, revealing his abs.
She had experienced them from up close many times. Traced her fingers through them, felt the rough edges, bit at the skin and also licked her way through them at length. So yes, she was very very familiar with and fond of his abs but the oiled torso had disrupted her brain chemistry. That was new, and downright sultry. Slutty. Sensuous. And oh so sexy.
They looked almost the same right now, minus the oiled bit. Her eyes moved up to his perky nipples as she wondered if they had oiled them too. If he had done it himself or if someone touched him there. And rubbed the shiny liquid all over him. The thought was unpleasant yet arousing. She wondered how he would have reacted to that, knowing fully well how sensitive Jude was around his nipples. How he always moaned with his head thrown back when she sucked him there. And how he invariably returned the favour by vigorously assaulting her boobs.
He watched her reaction with amusement and glee.
‘Eyes are up here, doll.’
‘Yes and they are very pretty. But damn the rest of you….you killed people today, hope you know that. I bet some girls dropped to their knees, cried and passed out with longing.’
Jude leaned back, resting his hands behind his head. Flexing his arms and the bouncing muscles. Giving her a show.
‘That good, huh?’
‘More. And we haven’t even addressed the star of the show yet.’
He figured she was talking about his thighs. His girl was obsessed with them - having them cage her in, wrap around her, even choke her sometimes, or just her stroking & biting them.
But no, it wasn’t his thighs that had made her pant when she saw the pics.
‘They left nothing to the imagination. Everyone SAW you today. Like fully. In those clinging tights. Women have wagers going on over your size, Jude. And horny, wet dreams. You have ruined lives today, hope you are happy.’
Full-body guffaws reverberated through his chest, bouncing off the walls.
‘Oh doll, you could join in the wagers and actually win y’know. Inside info and all.’
She declined the suggestion, telling him that women would be queuing up outside his door if she actually DOES tell them the inside info. He was enjoying the ego boost massively - it was rare for her to lose all semblance of sanity like this.
But she didn’t care. Not today. He had just dropped a sexually charged nuclear bomb on the entire female population & this was the after-effects of it.
‘Women sliding into your DMs huh? Sending nudes? Broke some kind of world record for that already today or nah?’
He just shrugged casually. Couldn’t deny it coz it was true. His inbox had exploded but his team had systems to filter out such messages. Some still seeped through & he knew she knew that.
It was just her luck that he was so far away right now. Else, she would have tied him to the bed tonight, and then vice-versa. Jude anyway loved restraining & pinning her any chance he got. She would have let him toss her around anywhere, any way he wanted. However many times he demanded. But that was not to be.
‘Strip for me.’
She said without hesitation, commanding him. He spluttered the juice in his mouth, sticky liquid dropping around his face and neck. His tongue came out to lap it up. Fucking hell - temptation personified. Biblical sinful apple.
‘You too. It’s already unfair that I am shirtless while you’re still hiding your tits. C’monn lemme see my babies. Been so long since I kissed them goodnight.’
They moved the laptop angle to cover a full body view, then proceeded to strip together. Stroking themselves in unison, eyes glued to the screen. Calling out each others names. Reaching their highs together.
She looked at his fucked out naked form, & her body burned lesser for the first time since looking at the photos. Others will only get to thirst over him from afar. But she is the one who gets to have the view, the taste and the pounding from him.
#real madrid#jude bellingham#bellingham#bellingham x reader#jude fanfic#jude#jb#jb5#jude bellingham smut#Jude bellingham imagine#jude bellingham one shot
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Why Stolas is a Terrible Person/Character
Oh this will be long. In this post I will cover why Stolas is a character that fundamentally fails at everything it tries to accomplish. I probably have to say that you can love Stolas. That's just why I hate him.
Trigger warnings for: Racism, casteism, power dynamics, sexual assault, sa apologism, abuse, and neglectful parenting. A lot, I know, but that's Stolas.
His Actions in S1
Despite the title, there will be two examples from season 2.
Racism/Casteist
Stolas is from the upper caste, a royal. He seem to often fetishize imps, or the fact that he's sleeping with someone who's less than him. I even saw fans pointing this out. He has empathized Blitzø being an imp in a sexual context.
(Notice the use of words: "little", "plaything", to me this is blatant racism and fetishism).
He also showed a certain lack of empathy for his imp butler.
Stolas isn't particularly violent, he doesn't choke people left and right. He's just angry, at Stella, so he decides to.. choke the imp.
Stolas has been dehumanizimg imps. Fetishizing an imp for being an imp, calling him an "impish little plaything", and he has been willing to choke an imp just because he was angry at something unrelated. He's racist and casteist.
Treatment of Blitzø
"Treatment" is putting it lightly. In the first episode, Stolas does something inexcusable that will taint their dynamic for all of season 1. First, he sees Blitzø in a vulnerable position, where he cannot think or negotiate. Thus, stripping him of what little choice he has on what he's about to offer.
What Stolas is saying is, "Fuck me or I'll shut down your business". This deal he makes is just a threat with extra steps. Which is a real life abuse tactic called Quid Pro Quo:
"Quid pro quo harassment occurs when someone in a position of authority over another directly or indirectly demands sexual favors in exchange for some benefit, or to avoid some detriment in the workplace".
One element I haven't brought up yet, is the political power imbalance. Stolas is royalty, one with a lot of power, influence, credibility, etc. Blitzø has non of that. Other characters have commented on that the fact that Blitzø even has a business is a miracle.
There are so many layers of imbalance and how Blitzø has no choice or agency. A royal is """offering""" the powerless a Quid Pro Quo while he's in a life threatening situation.
And their dynamic looks exactly like you'd imagine. Stolas consistently sexualizes him against his consent. (As it's been established, Stolas's racism feeds into this). And refuses to do the surface level courtesy, not even calling him his real name (x).
Stolas treats Blitzø as a lesser being, violates his boundries, forces himself on him, and strips him of all autonomy.
Faliure as a Father
Stolas's role as a father is directly tackled in Loo Loo Land and Seeing Stars. At the beginning, both episodes show Stolas being a good father to Octavia, but does this still hold true in the currect day? Well, no.
In Loo Loo Land, Stolas wants to take Octavia to a theme park. Octavia is 17, and Stolas ignores her when she says she doesn't want to go. (In retrospect, Stolas could be oblivious because he's projecting his experience meeting Blitzø onto Via).
But that's just the start. Stolas then invites Blitzø to the trip and harasses with him all throughout. Essentially, Stolas is forcing his daughter to watch as he harasses "the homewrecker", all the while he's supposed to be with her, on a trip she didn't even want to go to.
After a whole day of this, as expected, Octavia runs away. Stolas chases her. (And of course, he's still thinking of Blitzø on his way to find Via). There's an apology scene that looks deep, but when you dissect it, it's rather empty.
Stolas never actually provided an explanation as to why he just did what he did, nor of the "drama" with Stella. There is nothing here. Octavia only makes up with him because he said he isn't gonna leave her. Which is bare minimum.
After he realizes that his affair hurts his daughter to the point where she feared he's gonna leave her, what does he do? What practical actions does he take to improve? Divorce Stella? Cut off his deal with Blitzø? Explaine the situation?
Nothing. And now we see he's willing to stand up on a stage and let people know.
In Seeing Stars, Stolas bashes Via's mother to her. Which, does she know about their situation? Does she not? She isn't shown to hate or.. anything Stella. Is he hiding the situation (which I'll cover), while also trashing her mother? That's impulsive and negligent.
But that's nothing. She later runs away, Stolas is stressed as he should be, but the second they arravie on earth he's all calm and everything's normal.
When his daughter is missing. When he is shown to be stressed, it's for the sake of plot. But he's willing to just chill, watching Blitzø's show.
Stolas is, dare I say it, neglectful. He might care about his daughter, but he's proven that she's not enough of a priority to focus on her when it matters.
Cheating
Yes, I know what ended up being revealed, I'll cover that. In season 1, the relationship is presented to not be perfect before Stolas cheated.
But there were instances that showed that what Stolas did changed their relationship for the worse. (Some additional rebuttals).
It could have been a loveless marrige, they could have fallen out of love, they could have been arranged. But their relationship was manageable. Love or no love, it's a committed relationship. and Stella didn't deserve to get cheated on.
Who was Stolas?
Stolas's behavior is common among royals. Stella has no problem throwing said butler at Stolas (S1 E2), and the Goetias are shown to be casteist. They're untouchable privileged assholes.
Stolas was born that wealth, never having to suffer the consequences of his actions. Always putting himself first, hurting others. He doesn't mean to, he wants for everyone to be happy, he does care.
However, when it actually matters, he acts on his worst tendecises with no self control. He never had to learn self control. That is, until Ozzie's.
Before Ozzie, Blitzø and Stolas are at obligation. Stolas's actions had tainted them. There was one redeemable moment: He saved Blitzø's life. Stolas did something for him. But this one act of goodness doesn't magically fix everything.
Stolas's family life have been escalating. Stella hated Stolas for cheating and his daughter just had to take it. In Loo Loo Land, he learns the full weight of the damage he caused. And in the next episode we see him, he proceeds to take no steps to improve the situation. In the end of that same episode, we learn that Stella hired an assasin after him. Because he did nothing.
The season 1 finale, Ozzie's, is aware of all of this and absolutely delivers.
The episode starts with seeing Stolas alone, in his big house, miserable. It appears that Stella finally left the house. (Also he later says "Octavia is with her mother this weekend"). He's eating a bowl of cereal, pitying himself, wallowing in his despair. You feel bad for him, he looks so torn down.
And then Blitzø calls. The one he loves, asks him on a serious date. It's hope, it's honest, and it's exactly what he wanted. It's almost as if the universe handed him is fairytale scenario.
Almost. Reality smacks him right in the face on that date. Asmodeus calls him out on losing everything he had. He had a family, a happy daughter, but gave it all up for an affair.
Blitzø calls him out on treating him like a pet, not earning any of that emotional connection he wants or even communicating it, just violating him, they have nothing.
The show held him accountable and called him out. While it's not perfect, Stolas is a morally grey character. Now, a character arc was set up where he learns to treat people better. Stolas is exactly the character I want to see from a show like Helluva Boss. He's a horrible person, but nuanced, who does care.
Season 2
Yeah... all of that is thrown out the window. Because apparently, Stolas is just imperfect. He simply made a lot of mistakes. He misread a lot of situations, really it's all just an accident. He's an oblivious victim. So, let's get into the woobification of Stolas.
Surrounded by Evil
In The Circus we're given Stolas's ✨️backstory✨️. And we find out he had such a terrible life.
Stella is, and always was, an abusive evil bitch. From the day she was born. Pure evil.
So you see, Stolas did nothing wrong. Let me be clear, you are not obligated to stay loyal to your abuser. We can erase "cheater" off the list. But that's the only reason why it's done. So we can erase that off the list, and that we could feel oh-so-sad for him.
Because Stella isn't written to be an abuser. She's a cartoonishly evil. We see a picture of her as a kid where she's the same person. Spongebob villians have more depth than her, you know, the abuser in the adult show.
Helluva Boss reversed an established dynamic where Stella is the victim and Stolas is at fault, except without any of the depth or nuance.
But that's not all. Stolas's dad (Paimon) is also neglectful. By "neglectful" I mean, of course, a Saturday-morning cartoon villain.
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He doesn't remember his name. This is such bullshit. I can buy Stolas having a horrible father. It's also not bad to show Stolas's trauma. What is bad is that the subject matter is handled with less seriousness as the fish fight in Spring Broken. And Helluva Boss did write Crimson as a serious abuser, while the episode still had comedy, but not Paimon.
The reason why all of this is happening, is so we could feel bad for Stolas. They do zero of the work to earn a good story about abuse, but still go "Do you see how sad he is? Look at how they're treating this poor baby!!"
"Recontextualization"
In said ✨️backstory✨️, we also learn that Stolas and Blitzø are childhood friends. But also not really, they just hung out for one day. Where did this come from? How does this enrich the characters? I would tell you, but I don't know. However, what I'm sure of, is that it's done to make Stolas look less problematic.
DO YOU SEE HOW CUT THIS IS? He isn't just horny for that imp, he is special, it's absoultly pure! Don't worry, totally safe.
Later in the flashback, we see how Blitzø and Stolas reconnected after over 20 years. Apparently... Blitzø was the one who sexually manipulated Stolas, selling him that he wants him.
All Stolas did was just buying into Blitzø's narrative he was imposed on. It's a role he leaned into, because he thought Blitzø liked it. I.. WHAT???
If this horseshit is true, why did he make this weird r*pe deal with Blitzø? If Blitzø was the one who acted like he's interested at first, and he was sexually exploiting him, why did he lash out at Stolas in Ozzie's? Did it just hold no weight for Stolas? It went from "Don't pretend to have something when you've been harassing me this whole time" to "You misunderstood".
The Stolitz backstory makes no sense, it's cheap, and fixes nothing. No matter what the story is trying to sell, in season 1 Stolas knew what's happening enough to try to force it. And maybe Stolas wanted Blitzø because of a connection, but he still harassed, dehumanized and violated him.
Note: Stolas realizing "he imagined the relationship" is completely ignored one episode later in Seeing Stars. This is a huge deal, didn't he learn? Just further evidence that he's willing to violate the guy. (x)
Before this backstory, we had a story of a selfish man hurting the person he loves while explointing the broken system and the power that he has over him for his own selfish desires that he's forcing on him. Now, we have the same thing, but with fanfic tropes – and the story refuses to confront that.
Casteism is Brushed Off
Helluva Boss pretends that Stolas isn't racist, because he didn't want Blitzø for being an imp, but for being his fanfic trope childhood friend. Which fails to address the disgusting fetishism of Blitzø for being an imp, and he also continued to dehumanize his imp butler in Seeing Stars. He's still racist.
Imperfect Father
In The Circus, Stolas devivers this line: "The only reason I have endured your constant insults and cruelty, was for that girl to have a normal life".
Sounds impressive, he stayed all these years just for his daughter. But that's the thing – it sounds impressive. Every time their relationship is the focus, Stolas is being the scum of the earth. What I see here, is a person. A person who despite being willing to stay passive, acts on his his selfish wants, forgetting to look around him. Mind you, this fact is also being revealed one episode after Ozzie's.
But no, one episode later, in Seeing Stars – that was covered as a prime example of everything I just descriped – Loona says this:
Yeah. He's just a good father "trying" his "best" and makes some... "mistakes". The Circus did present Stolas as this, but Seeing Stars really solidified how his parenting will be handled moving forward. And I think it's comlete and utter dogshit.
Damsel in Distress
The title is a bit misleading. This section is mainly about Stolas's power being toned down. Both magical and in presentation.
In season 1, he was energetic and enthusiastic, while being able to set his foot down and intimidate when needed. He's still all of those things, but in some instances his characterization made my raise an eyebrow.
In Seeing Stars, he's being weirdly gentle with people kidnapping Blitzø and are later beatting him.
youtube
In Oops, he's excited to start negotiating with literal kidnappers. I have no idea why he's so nice.
(He did harass Blitzø again in Seeing Stars and bashed Striker, all of which isn't soft, but it's also the two moments where he should have shut up).
Further more, both of these conflict rely on Stolas not using his powers for some reason or another. Why didn't he just do whatever he did in Truth Seekers to track Fizz/Via?
About Via, I'm gonna have to call bullshit on the "My powers are limited on earth" nonsense because, for starters, kid Stolas is shown to remember the contents of his books and now he's been studying them for years. And two,
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There is no excuse for Stolas to not use his powers and whenever the show says otherwise it's bullshitting its way out of it.
Even in Western Energy, before Stolas gets captured he was just aimlessly going in and out of his demon form. Why didn't he turn him into stone like he did in Loo Loo Land?
Stolas has been presented as weaker than he is. He's made to look more vulnerable, less "above it all". He was untouchable, and when he wasn't, it had a harder impact and made sense. Now, I almost forgot he's a powerful demon.
And his characterization is at the core of this issue. At times he's just so kind and gentle with people who should get smacked in their heads.
What about Ozzie's
The big clash, the one that called Stolas out on everything, the one that set him on a genuine path to grow, what about it? How is it addressed while the show tries to pretend he's a good person?
No, not the message Stolas is looking at, the ones in the background he just scrolled through.
I'm not breaking this down. I refuse. The only reason I put it here is to show how fast it goes. I'm not touching that.
Who is Stolas
Stolas is a moral scapegoat – "a character that is bad, but the book/movie/show portrays them as good". It's characterized by the story twisting itself to make one character look good.
Stolas didn't start out as one, but became one over one season premire and it just kept escalating from there.
Helluva Boss takes place in Hell. A horrible place filled with horrible people, the root of all evil. Stolas fits right in there. He was already problematic, awful, and fed into Helll's broken system. Why trying to cover up his faults? It's Hell, and it was great. But now, we're supposed to pretend he's just flawed.
With the show actively ignoring everything he did, what's left for him? What does he have to learn? How will he grow as a person? How will he improve? What's his character arc? It's nothing. Because everything that happens to him isn't his fault, and at times could just be solved with one conversation.
#Youtube#helluva boss critical#helluva critical#helluva boss criticism#helluva boss critique#anti helluva boss#anti stolas#stolas critical#anti stolitz#stolitz critical#vivziepop critical#vivziepop criticism#anti vivziepop#vivziepop critique#spindlehorse critical#spindlehorse critique#anti spindlehorse#spindlehorse criticism#spindlehorse toons critical
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the best thing
summary - you hate harry after that one night together, but when you need someone the most he will always be there
a/n : mentions of sexual assault, quite intense scenes, crying, angst, drunkeness
word count : +3.8k
pairing : ceo!harry x reader
You don’t know how you got here.
One minute you were eating crisps at home and watching reruns of Friends, then the next thing you know you’re at an exclusive event in the centre of London with your best friend; Leia.
Apparently, your best friend is now dating some actor who is in with all the A-list celebrities and so she can get into all these cool events now.
This party was hosted by none other than Harry Styles, billionaire and CEO of StylesTech. He happened to be the one man on Earth who you absolutely despised. Well, maybe he wasn’t the only one.
Harry became a celebrity when he got put on the front cover of GQ’s magazine for sexiest man alive four times. That’s right… four.
Harry was friends with James, your best friends new boyfriend, and had said she could also invite a plus one. The more the merrier was what Leia had said over the phone.
Now you were here.
Some rooftop bar in the heights of London. The lighting was very low, the music was very loud and the room was completely packed.
There was a dance floor where people were grinding more than dancing. There was a bar, which apparently was a free-bar. There was panoramic views of the city and tiny people below, making you feel like a Goddess up here in the clouds.
“We’re going to get drinks, you coming?” Leia asked you, James tugging on her hand to move them through the crowd.
“Yeah.” You nodded and grabbed onto her open hand.
You weaved through the crowds, apologising for people you bumped into.
You felt slightly too single here. Everyone seemed to be clinging onto someone and yet you were clinging on to a couple - third-wheeling to be precise.
When you reached the bar Leia and James ordered together, leaving you wait for another waiter to come to help you.
You waited a few more moments, before someone whistled behind you like they were calling over a dog.
“Oi, Henry. Serve this lady now.”
You turned around with a disgusted look on your face, only to be met with Harry Styles in front of you. He smirked at you when he noticed your facial expression.
You scoffed and turned back to Henry. “Don’t worry yourself about me. You can finish whatever job you were doing, hun.” You smiled at the young boy, who looked terrified of his boss behind you.
“No, he won’t.” Harry came and stood beside you. “She’ll have a vodka cranberry with ice.”
“She has a fucking name. Prick.” You mumbled the last word under your breath. “Sorry, Henry. I’ll actually have a Long Island Ice Tea, please. Thank you.”
Henry was off, probably to get away from Harry and make your drink.
“Sure your tolerance can handle a Long Island?” Harry laughed beside you.
“Don’t act like you know me, Harry.” You sneered his name.
“Oh, but I do know you. Don’t I? Know you very, very, well.”
You huffed, trying to not let his words effect you.
You knew exactly what he was talking about. Specifically, the night he was talking about. It had been one night back when you were working in a rival tech company. You had been issued to attend a conference weekend, there had been limited numbers of rooms and Harry - the gentleman at the time - had offered you a space in his room.
That night you had too many vodka cranberries and ended up sleeping with Harry that night - although not much literal sleeping actually happened.
The point of hatred for Harry occurred when he left in the morning after you’d confessed that you could see yourself liking him. You’d offered yourself to him for a date together and all he said was; ‘I don’t do seconds.’
Hence, the birth of the hatred for GQs sexiest man alive x4.
“That was one night, years ago. Wasn’t anything to remember.” You sneered.
You lied. It was actually one of the best nights of your life and no one has been as good since.
“Except it was. You didn’t scream that much because you were hating it.” Harry sipped on his glass of whiskey.
“You’re a fucking pig.” You grabbed your drink that Henry had given to you now. “Stay away from me, Harry.”
“Then why did you come to my party?”
“I’m here because of Leia, not you.”
You scoffed and walked off, leaving Harry leaning against the bar in his gorgeous suit to stare at you as you walked away.
The little black dress and heels would do wonders for the power walk away from him. He could see what he has been missing.
You saw Leia and James standing at a table and went over to join them.
“Hey.” You said on approach.
“Hey babes.” Leia smiled as James wrapped his arm around Leia’s waist.
“Cosmo?” You asked, pointing to Leia’s drink.
“You know it. And what the fuck did you get?”
“Long Island.”
“Do you even like them?” Leia laughed.
“No.”
“Then why—”
To prove a point. “Dunno.” You shrugged, taking a sip and feeling sick already from how disgusting the drink was.
“Oh hey man.” James unwrapped his arm around Leia to shake hands with someone. Unfortunately for you, it happened to be the one man you were trying to stay away from.
“Hey. How are you?” Harry asked as they bro hugged.
“Good, good yeah. This is my girlfriend, Leia.” James introduced her.
Leia smiled politely, shaking his hand, and you suddenly wished you’d told her that the story behind the ‘One-Night-Stand’ guy had been this guy. “Hello. Great party.”
“Thanks.”
“And this is Y/N, Leia’s best friend.” James introduced you, not realising that you didn’t need an introduction.
Harry stuck his hand out for you. If you didn’t shake it someone would know something is wrong, so you could your hand in Harry’s and tried to ignore the soft skin against yours. Instead, you tightly squeezed as if you were trying to strangle his hand.
“Lovely to meet you, Y/N.”
You just tightly smiled, not feeling like returning the sentiment.
“Have we met before? You look very… familiar.” Harry had the cheek to say to you. He was an evil man.
“No. You don’t really have a face that I’d remember.” You pulled your hand away from him in disgust.
“Oh really? I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”
“It’s not.” You smiled, returning to your drink and trying not to gag with how awful it tasted.
“Uh, so, what are you drinking Harry?” Leia asked, clearly sensing some tension between you.
“Vodka cranberry.”
“Ah no way! That’s our Y/Ns favourite drink.” Leia smiled genuinely.
“How coincidental.” Harry faked a shocked face.
“Yeah. Truly.” You rolled your eyes.
“You two must be soulmates or something.”
“That would require two people going on an actual date.” You stabbed into the conversation.
“I guess..” Leia looked awkward now.
“Your capable of going on a date, aren’t you Harry?” You innocently questioned, turning to face him.
Harry’s nostrils flared and it looked like he was biting back from saying something brass. Instead of speaking, he shot back a good half of his drink.
“Lovely speaking to you, Leia. James, we’ll catch up in a bit.” Harry nodded his head to them both. You didn’t miss how he didn’t acknowledge you as he left the table in a hurry.
You breathed a sigh of relief after he’d gone.
“What the fuck was that about?” Leia asked you immediately.
“What?” You asked dumbly.
“You and Harry. The sexual tension was insane!”
James nodded his head in agreement.
“Don’t be silly.”
“Y/N… C’mon. I’ve seen a penis and a vagina have less sexual tension than you and Harry. Get a fucking room next time.” Leia fanned herself.
“I give up.” You shook your head and downed the rest of your disgusting drink.
“Where are you going?” James asked.
“To find a fourth wheel for me.”
•••••
Twelves minutes later and you’d managed to find someone to spend the rest of your night with.
His name was Jordan and he was very good company. Attractive company too.
You two were cornered away in the back of the room in a circular booth. A tray of shots lay empty in front of you and another tray contained full ones.
You were playing a drinking game to get to know each other and now you were absolutely spinning. Your head had taken a hit after the fifth shot and now you were nine deep and couldn’t stop yourself.
“M-my turn.” You laughed as you hiccuped.
“Okay.”
Jordan sat close to you, his arm wrapped around the back of the booth where you were sat. His eyes were deep brown and his hair was light blonde. He looked the complete opposite of Harry, which maybe was subconsciously a choice.
“Favourite sex position?” You giggled immaturely.
“Hmm. Doggy. I actually hate seeing a girls face when we’re fucking.” He replied and you had to take a shot because he answered honestly.
That should’ve been your first red flag about Jordan.
You just laughed instead.
“My turn. Have you ever masturbated?”
“Alllll the time. No guy does it for me anymore.” You laughed sadly.
Jordan took his shot and then moved in closer towards you. You tilted your head so he could speak into your ear.
“I could fix that problem for you.”
Your eyes bugged at his forwardness.
“No thanks.” You shook your head and laughed to try and keep it civil.
“Oh c’mon. You’ve been flirting with me all night and you know it.” His hand dropped onto your shoulders and pulled himself closer. His other hand dropped onto your bare thigh and started rubbing up and down on your soft skin.
“No I haven’t!” You laughed the situation off.
“You have. And I bet you’re all excited ‘cause of it.”
He started moving his hand further up your leg. Due to your toxic alcohol intake your reaction times were a little slower, but when his hand had made it underneath your dress-skirt you gasped and tried to tug his hand away.
“No. Please stop.” You said softly, whining as he tried to push his hand higher.
His face came closer again and he started to kiss your cheek. You tried to move your face away but his other hand was there to trap you and keep you close.
You started to worry because of how dark it was and how hidden away you were. Everyone was busy dancing and drinking away and none the wiser about the situation you were in.
“Give in, you tease.” His hot breath felt disgusting against your skin.
“I said no. Please.”
You struggled to push him off. Both your hands were focusing on his hand on your leg that you couldn’t do much to get his face away from yours.
“You’ve been teasing me all night and now we get to play.” He laughed.
Tears formed in your eyes as you kept pushing and pushing and pushing. You kept saying no over and over again, but Jordan was just not listening.
He felt disgusting on you and it made you feel just as disgusting.
Jordan just kept laughing whilst you were crying.
An employee caught your eye - in fact, it was Henry. You thought he might’ve come over to you and help, since he could clearly see you crying and struggling with Jordan on you, but instead he turned and walked away.
You sobbed then, thinking that might’ve been your only chance to get help and he just left.
You wondered whether it was because Harry was a dick to him.
You closed your eyes and tried to think of happy thoughts as Jordan started attacking your neck.
You tried to think of Harry. It wasn’t hard.
He was constantly on your mind.
“You taste so good. Stop denying me all of you.” Jordan bit your neck too harshly to be pleasurable.
“Jordan, no!” You shoved with all your strength and managed to completely get him off. You were pissed now. Your mascara may have run, your eyes red and blotchy, your breath shaky, but that was all he was getting from you.
“No?” Jordan scoffed. “NO?”
Jordan grabbed your cheeks and pulled you towards him.
“Ow.” You mumbled through his harsh grip.
“Listen here you little bi—”
“The fuck is going on here?”
Jordan dropped your face and straightened his jacket, whilst you turned your head to find who you already knew was there; Harry.
His voice had sent a wave of calmness through your body the second he started speaking. Now he was standing there with a deathly look on his face you couldn’t help but feel relief.
And you noticed Henry standing behind him, looking just as angry.
“Hi boss. Just having fun.” Jordan responded.
Harry looked between Jordan and you. Jordan looked dazed and content, whilst you looked broken and scared.
“Are you okay?” Harry looked intensely at you.
“She’s fi—”
“I wasn’t fucking speaking to you, was I?” Harry rhetorically asked. “Y/N, come here, love.”
Harry held out his hand, palm facing up.
You made no hesitation as you weakly moved away from Jordan and towards Harry.
Harry helped you stand up and kept a tight hold on your hand. It grounded you, his touch.
“Can I touch you? Just on your face?” Harry asked you softly and you nodded.
Harry cautiously held your chin and moved your head to the side, noticing the red mark and blood on your neck. He hadn’t taken note of your legs yet, but he would come to find red marks on them too.
Your teary eyes were wiped by Harry’s careful thumb. You looked down at his shoes the entire time, too afraid to look at him. You knew you’d crumble if you did.
“Are you okay?” He asked you again.
“No.” You said softly, shaking your head. “I-I was really scared, Harry.” Your voice broke and Harry immediately cupped the back of your head and brought you into his chest. You collapsed there and Harry’s hands held you up strong.
“You’re okay now. I’m here, you’re okay. I’ve got you.” Harry said, whilst nodding his head discreetly to the two security men.
They came over within seconds and yanked Jordan out of the booth. His protests were no match for the security guys. As he was being escorted out, Harry stopped him to say “See you in court.”
After Harry had thanked Henry with a nod and smile, he walked the small distance over to the same booth and sat down on the edge of it, pulling you to sit on his lap.
Your body was still wracking with sobs, but only because the adrenaline of the situation had been too much for you.
Now you knew you were safe, it was too much.
Harry made you feel safe.
He rocked you as he held you. It was too loud to have a quiet, serious, conversation, but his actions spoke loud anyways. I’m here. You’re safe. It’s okay now.
You heard Harry shout to someone for a glass of cold water, which was brought back to you within a minute.
"Here, sunshine, drink this." Harry spoke closely to you so you could hear.
He held the glass up to your lips and tipped it back slowly for you. Your hands were too shaky to hold onto it yourself, but you managed to drink carefully with the help of Harry.
He even knew when you'd had enough.
Harry's hand cupped the side of your head and brought you to rest back onto his chest. His head stayed rested on top of yours and you both just sat like that for ten minutes or so. It was hard to know exactly how long.
You just sat and thought about everything that had happened tonight and everything that could have happened. Mixed with that, your brain was constantly thinking about Harry and how much, no matter how hard you try otherwise, you like him.
Your heart feels constantly pulled towards him. He's like a beacon in the middle of a storm, safely guiding you towards home.
Just as those thoughts were circling your mind, Harry made his move.
He told you he was going to stand up, so you let yourself slide off his legs onto your own shaky ones. You thought he might be leaving you to go back and mingle with the other guests, so you stood shy to the side.
Harry leaned over to Henry and whispered something in his ear to which Henry nodded.
Before you could make plans as to what you were going to do now, Harry held out his hand to you again - giving you a choice to take it or not. Of course, you took it.
He squeezed your hand in reassurance and then lead you off and out of the room.
You two made no conversation as you wandered out of the noisy room and into a quiet staircase. Harry started walking up the stairs, so you followed him.
It was another two minutes before you made it to the top of the stairs and through a door that led to a rooftop. It was only very small. It overlooked the city skyline, with hundreds of twinkling lights casting shadows over the small space.
There were twinkling fairy lights too, up here. They were knotted around various creeping wall plants like ivy. In the corner of the square space there was a big L-shaped sofa with plenty of cushions and throws.
Harry turned back to smile at you, leading you to the sofa.
He sat down and let go of your hand, allowing you to choose where to sit.
You took one last glance at the skyline and up to the moon, before deciding.
"Wanna sit next to you." You said in a small voice.
"Okay." Harry smiled perfectly.
He shuffled back into the corner of the L-shaped sofa, sitting up and letting his legs stretch out on the chair in front of him. He patted his lap next with a smile. You shuffled over to him and sat on his lap, perpendicular to the way he was sitting so your legs stretched out along the other length of the chair.
"Comfortable?" He asked.
"Mhm."
Harry wasn't too sure though, and next thing you knew he was gathering a couple of blankets to throw over your legs and shoulders.
"Better. Thank you." You nodded.
"You're welcome."
"It's beautiful up here."
"I guess it is."
"Is it all yours?" You questioned.
"What? Everything up here?"
You nodded. Harry then took your hands in his and started to play with the few rings you had on.
"No. Not everything is mine."
You looked up at him and into his eyes, noticing he was looking straight back at you.
Your breath caught in your throat as you thought about the implications to his words. You couldn't help but let a blush and smile take over your face. If he was implying what you thought he was then maybe you were in with a chance of Harry liking you back.
"What do you want to have? You're a billionaire. You could have anything you want." You asked, curiously.
"No even a billionaire can buy everything." He smiled sadly.
"Well, what do you wish you could buy even though you can't?"
Harry chuckled under his breath, "Redemption. A second chance. Love."
You tilted your head back against the sofa, your head feeling less and less drunk by the minute. You sighed, looking at the beautiful moon and wondering how lonely she must be up there.
Loneliness is something you've suffered with for far too long.
You wanted to find that connection with that someone who makes you feel wanted, feel loved and feel chosen. You craved it.
You chuckled.
"What?" Harry asked, softly caressing over the back of your hand.
"It's just funny, is all."
"What is?"
"Us, wanting the same thing. Wonder if we want it from the same people." You tilted your head to the side to face Harry, watching him lick his lips as he looked at yours not-so-subtly.
"You already know we do." Harry said quietly, leaning in towards you.
Your breath hitched as he got closer, your heart beating faster than your brain was processing the motions. You knew you wanted to kiss Harry as badly as he wanted to kiss you, but not like this. Not yet, at least.
"Harry, wait..." You said, watching him stop immediately.
"Fuck. Shitting, fuck. Sorry, Y/N. That was completely inappropriate of me. I mean.. After... Tonight and us... and...."
Harry shot back to his original position and ran a stressed hand over his face as he tried to work through his thoughts.
You smiled as you watched him panic, before taking his stressed hands in yours and kissing the back of it softly - right over that small triage of freckles you knew sat pretty there.
"Hey. It's okay." You reassured him. "I'm not stopping you because of what happened this evening. I'm stopping you because I feel I deserve to know why I wasn't enough the first time around."
This was you standing up for yourself.
"Weren't enou-.. Y/N, love. God, I was such a dick. I never, ever, left you because I thought you weren't enough. I left because I didn't think I was. I was a nobody back then. I looked at you and saw someone who could literally be the epitome of sunshine, and then I looked at me and all I saw was a dark cloud that would cover you. I never thought someone as bright, as happy and as golden as you should ever have to be with someone like me. Hell, it's still a thought that niggles away at the back of my mind. But, I've learnt that I can't let those thoughts win. I owe it you myself, and definitely to you, to at least try."
"Well that was as good as apologies get." You sniffled, trying to hold back the happy tears.
"I'm sorry, Y/N, for our wasted years. I... I just wasn't ready for us back then and I know I was a prick about it."
"You were. A right big prick."
Harry wiggled his eyebrows and you had to fake punch him for it.
"I'm sorry." He said honestly. "And I'm sorry for tonight too."
"That wasn't your fault, okay? I promise." You squeezed his hand.
"Okay. I'm still suing that motherfucker though."
"You're a billionaire already!"
"So? I was going to donate the money to a sexual assault charity or something." He shrugged his shoulders like what he just said was no big deal - like he hadn't just shown his truest heart.
"You're a good person, Harry, who deserves good things." You moved closer to him.
"I am?"
"Mhm."
"Do these 'good things' include you?"
"I don't know. Do you think I'm a good thing?" You teased him.
Harry leaned in closer. "No. I think you're the best."
#harry styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fanfic#ask finelinevogue#harry blurb#finelinevogue#harry styles concept#harry oneshot#harry styles blurbs#harry styles ceo#ceo harry styles#ceo!harry#harry styles fic
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Addicted
𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞
Female Reader
Warnings : Manipulation. Brainwashing. Sexual assault. Mention of murders. Dubious consent. Detail sex. Blackmailing. Power abuse. Toxic relationship. Cheating. Home Invasion. Stalking.
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒
❛ 死神 ❜ Meeting Light yagami was a mere coincidence yet the several meetings again and again doesn't seem to be anymore because the more (Y/N) observe the more she realize how fake he is yet she fail to be aware of his twisted desires held for her
To be cousin of Misa is difficult could be understatement because it is much more than that, it's heart-wrenching, gulit, frustration and more complex emotions are mixed because watching her sister even if cousin sister break down into (Y/N)'s arms wailing to be back to her passed away parents is heart-wrenching.
Guilt due to the helpless (Y/N) felt for hopelessly comforting her with words that are lies and even have difficulty to be happy with her alive parents in front of her as if she is taunting her sister.
Frustration on her sister's newfound obsession with the serial killer Kira who's praises of anti-hero could be sang at the same time hatred was there for taking law on their own hands. No, (Y/N) isn't saint to think what the kira is doing completely wrong rather her opinion dances between supporting their way of cleaning filth yet hating how they do as they want which was prove by killing the false detective life simply case he hurt the killer's ego. Also a newfound emotion has planted within her manifesting to grow larger and larger which is : fear. Fear for the safety of her sister's alarming love for the Kira just cause they did a good deed of killing her parent's culprit. Fear of her sister ruining her life just to meet the said killer or being taken advantage of bad people in name of Kira.
However expect her surprise when she met Yagami Light, the most intelligent boy she shared her school with came to her house with her sister introducing to be her boyfriend standing beside Misa who squealing quietly just the same way (Y/N) notice whenever Kira's name is mention.
"How odd". She was beyond confuse of how Light was able to peel her obsession with the Kira because as much as she knows he is the epitome of justice even being the son of Yagami Soichiro, the leading head policer of ongoing Kira case. "They are vastly different. How come she is romantically involved with such man despite fangirling over a serial killer ?" She remembers meeting the boy due to the unusual events of that day.
"I am bored". (Y/N) thought with a sigh, unable to hear the boring theories of the professor are uttering as her (E/C) eyes gaze over the window she was sitting near when a quite grasp left her lips seeing a black notebook written something over it fell from the blue sky. "What the ?" Unable to comprehend she decided as soon as the class ended she would surely go outside to touch the notebook for at least to check.
Bell ring indicating finished last period made her quick to be at her feet holding her small black bag and run through the hallway. "These are the advantage of not having friends". She chuckle finally drumming over the dust and in front of the very same black book she saw earlier. "Death note". She read out loud about to touch when her sight saw someone else's palm hold the mysterious notebook as she look up meeting beautiful bronze eyes belonged to Light, her classmate.
"Is that yours ?" She asked pointing her finger to the notebook.
"Oh ! Of course not. Rather I saw it from the distance while walking outside the gate and thought to pick it up and deliver to the police station". He elaborate smiling gently as she always saw him in front of his friends, professors and each person alike.
"Oh".
"Well, seeing you ask me if it's mine automatically prove it's not yours right ?" (Y/N) shook her head, smiling nervously.
"Okay, then please submit the notebook to the police station for it's rightful owner to claim. I will take my leave". Feeling awkward and having nothing more to converse she decided to leave and finding his nod as a permission she left. Unaware he stayed until her figure disappeared.
"(L/N) ? Right ?" Light's voice ripped her from the clouded thoughts to find the boy sitting in front her, on the desk chair Misa uses.
"Uh, yes". (Y/N) nod, straighting her wrinkled clothes to appear at least presentable when seconds ago she was in mist of drawing a art that occupied her mind when the door burst open revealing cheerful Misa with her least expected classmate.
"Is her aunt your mother ? Judging from the different surnames". He asked further taking a look at her from head to toe discreetly as she sat on her bed.
"Yup ! She looks nothing like the lovesick girl". Ryuk pointed out Light's thoughts.
"Yes. My father is foreigner from (C/N) while mother is Japanese so you could say I am half Japanese". She smiled, still having doubts of their relationship. "So, could you say how you two met ? You know, love story ?" Misa laughed sitting beside her and linking their arms together.
"Well, it was love at fight sight for me". The blond girl shamelessly unraveled looking at her love, her savior, her lover ignoring the fact their relationship is an play. "I was in awe how a man could be both handsome and intelligent so I persistently tailed behind him until he couldn't deny me". Lies spewed her lips so smoothly (Y/N) belived while Light holding the urge to roll his eyes knowing they rehearsal the script beforehand.
"And when we were in relationship he slowly fell for me and I fell more". (Y/N) doubts were beginning to waver and smile soften spotting her cousin's eyes adoring cupid heart and her lips coated with sweet nothings.
"She loves him". Hearing each and every word from her lips speaking proved that, failing to noticing her single moves are observed and calculated by a certain brown head boy. Light from his correct understanding has known the classmate he clearly recall from their first meeting from finding the death note and discovering she is her cousin who has soft spot for Misa could be useful in upcoming events just like the another foolish shinigami, Rem but hopefully she doesn't become a thorn in his way otherwise he must pitifully execute her like the rest.
"Misa, can you bring some snacks from downstairs ? I am hungry". Light narrowed his eyes at the sudden request. "Also Yagami-san, would you like to have some too ?" He nod smiling a little.
"Okay ! Wait for me and oneesan do not try to talk behind my back ! Do you understand". The girl warned walking away giving her a playful glare earning a chuckle from (Y/N) that made Light stare at her.
"She look nothing like Misa nor is her behavior". Light had heard her name from Misa before meeting today yet fault due to not paying attention he couldn't recall her until he came inside the room meeting an familiar face from their few days intractions washing away all the expectation he had of how more irritating her sister could be. "She is gullible enough". He thought.
"So, Yagami-san, do you love her ?" The question was expected since he had re-think multiple questions to begin with. Smiling the perfect facade he replied in beat "Of course".
"And what is the points you like about her ?" (Y/N) watched his perfect facade carefully where he crafted to smile nervously and fidgets his fingers when in reality he is getting annoyed by her piling questions. She is annoying.
"I, like her everything. From her way of dressing to the way she cheerfully talks to her way of handling people and most importantly the fact she is so brave even after her parents has left the world. She is still hanging strongly as ever". The girl's smile dimmed at the mention of her dearest relatives death yet she paid attention to the sincerity unaware of the fact he made just for her to see.
"So, she shared her parent's death with you ?"
"Yes". No. It was the first reason she is attached to his hip. A nuisance death what he thinks.
"If she shared such vital topic that must mean she trust you enough". (Y/N) sigh, looking at his eyes. "Then you must also know her obsession with Kira ?" His muscles tense but he kept the act of nodding.
"Indeed. It was in the first weeks of our relationship I got to know her unhealthy obsession with the serial killer". A bitter taste left by the negative word he used at last.
"What do you think about Kira ?" Now, he won't lie about this question coming expected but that doesn't mean he can't speak the right words in set. The words she might want to hear.
"I will be honest with you". His serious bronze eyes stare at her. "My own moral compass is little bend. Still that doesn't mean what they does is correct instead they only acts upon what they deems is correct and that thinking itself is terrifying and must be put stop to it". Hearing such words from a boy who's son of a national police agency and multiple times announced to the teachers of his dream of becoming one along observed his visible hatred towards criminals should have felt right but why does it feel so wrong ? Her raw human instinct is settling anything but safe and good. All the words sounds distant and wrong.
"Yagami-san, please tell me your real opinion not the one you would tell to hide your real ones". Breaking the silence she didn't know was there flicker her eyes deeply into his. He merely look down and back up with a soft chuckle disregarding Ryuk's raspy laugh.
"Smart girl". He jollily commented already being entertained.
"I guess I was caught". His eyes lifted with his lips. "Okay, I do support Kira's actions of killing criminals but I do not support their killings against innocent civilians because I think the innocents do not deserve such way of death to heaven". Light appeared to be shameful of his way of thinking when in contrast his fingers were itching to write her name on the death note and erase her existence from the earth. She is getting inside his skin. The second person to thoroughly caught his lies aside from the mysterious detective L.
(Y/N) eyes dart at the door hearing the upcoming footsteps of her sister to her classmate. "I understand". She did. Understood her intitution was right about the white lie he spoke moments earlier.
"But could you also share your opinion". Light oddly enough desire to know her thoughts for the sake of knowing her better. Or so he claim.
"Umm...nothing simply than the fact I have observed the person has fragile ego proven the moment he killed the fake detective just cause he was provoked such an impulsive decision". The brown head boy's eyes twitch at that sentences.
"That was good". Ryuk full on indulging the second person who doesn't fall for his facade easily and insult so bluntly at the same time could be the fast reason of her own demise he pitefully felt bad.
"Also I notice how the name Kira means killer at the same time shining in Japanese if I am correct then it must mean if the killer themselves liked to called killer in more fashionable way that proves they are aware they are nothing more than a killer but judging from the past killing of both the fake detective and police officers it seems the killer has forgetting it's identity and wants to be some sort of justice hero". She finished titling his head.
"I like her". The god of death openly admit his favoritism wanting more to see what becomes of her in the near future. Hopefully she survives after this situation for his want of fun. However Light doesn't share the mutual feeling. His lips part to say when Misa barged in holding plate of delicates and snacks.
"Have bites". Little to no noises were made placing the plate on top of the little table.
"Thank you". (Y/N) took one bite into the cookies before diving into what he was suppose to say if Misa didn't came so abruptly little did she know the blonde girl was standing behind the door since the topic came what he likes about her by successfully fluttering her heart and leak hundred butterflies inside her stomach.
For Light after eating and talking some meaningless strings of sentences he care not to remember only seeing red by the moment those words this bitch utter immediately put an natural end to their meeting, waves their hands goodbye, somehow got rid of the another bitch, Misa. He so restelessly want to strangle her neck to the point he could see life fade from her eyes, pale body fall limp for eternal. Once he got home excusing himself with a strained smile and fake soften eyes to his mother and sister.
In no seconds the death notebook was laid open and a pen fist between his fingers tightly about to write her name that no one would stop him expect "I have observed the person has fragile ego proven the moment he killed the fake detective just cause he was provoked such an impulsive decision". It flashes across his eyes itself pausing his movements.
"Ha !" He mockly laughed. Laughed more and more and more and more that it scared the shinigami watching how wicked the laugh turned to his eyes pure evil red. "If she thinks of death was an implusive choice I made then how about I taste her hell ?" He smirk planning to get closer to know about her in order to completely destroy her.
The following day of her colliding with Light Yagami at the school gate to return home was again awkward but this time for the reasons he was romantically involved with her cousin, she still has suspicious about due to all her gut feeling screaming the boy dangrous. A danger.
"Would you like to walk home together ?" He suggested wearing his usual charming smile.
"So direct ?" The god of death snicker.
"Okay". Well, no excuse she has to decline his kind offer other than the fact her house is at different direction from his. Soon she find herself walking with the least expected boy she often seen and came face to face once in a while. The walk itself was silent surrounded by comfortable noises like their walking foosteps, few cars driving, birds chirping on their nest over the tree.
"Why did you invite me for a walk ? We aren't so close enough yet". Her quite voice break the train of thoughts of Light who for the first time after getting hands on the death note has been in peace.
"To get to know you better". (Y/N) was taken aback, flicker to his eyes to find them already intensity watching her. She flinched. He noticed.
"Oh". Quickly her gaze turned away only to fall on top of a cute cafe she has been eyeing for a long time which Light has notice too.
"Want to go inside ?" She glance to check his expression where he smiles and she nods going inside together. Few people were seated and she chose the closest seat to the window. He sat opposite of her. "This cafe is nice". He compliment watching her nod carelessly and look around the cafe. "Seem to be the first time of her".
"Welcome to Cutieeva Cafe, here is the menu for you to order and please press the bell to call an waitress or waiter". A woman wearing her black mix white cloth elaborate smiling ear to ear and place two menu on their table.
"Thank you". (Y/N) thanked her taking one between the two menu to check what she would be ordering to end up with Katsu sandwitch, manju and iced matcha latte while Light ordered egg salad sandwich and iced coffee with milk.
They waited in the same silence boring the god of death.
"Didn't you said you would talk to her ? If you don't talk then how would you know her weakness ?" Ryuk crossed his legs and sat floating in the air with hand under his cheek knowing how the male human ignored him.
"I will charge apples for this boredom". Light tune out the whining of the supernatural creature focusing on the girl in front of him who never ready to met his gaze if not necessary he even remembers being baffled in their first encounter how she run away unlike others he has came across his life to be talking to him in any possible way or reason. The food plate were served and the moment his requested food entered his mouth did he felt the disgust raising. "It's a trash". However he didn't let the negativity express over his face, glancing over to (Y/N) who ate just fine. To ease the disfavour he drank his drink "They didn't add milk and it's bitter". His lips threat to twitch.
"You shouldn't force to eat something you dislike". Light froze. His mind for a second was blank and non-calculative words blurt out.
"What do you mean ?" He stare into those (E/C) he found yesterday night in his dreams.
"The way you only bite some of your food and immediately turned to drink then look at your food makes me think you might not like your order. Maybe I am wrong but I simply want you to know that you shouldn't force yourself to like something for the sake of others". If before he wasn't intrigued then he certainly is now.
"And what would happen if I force myself ?" The words escape eager then he wanted. Looking forward to her next sentence, looking towards to her next expression, to their next eyes met.
"If you do, it will only hurt your own self that might later be forgetton if you are so used to the mask". (Y/N) utter not confident anymore feeling her unspoken secrets exposed by the words she speak from her personal experience. Feeling his burning gaze yet stick to looking at her meal.
"Sounds like an personal experience to me". Click ! His brozon eyes gleefully when she looked at him. At his eyes. Only at him.
"Ah ! What a interesting turns of events". Ryuk observed each little things. Feeling tension built just like his entertainment settling.
"Because it indeed is". (Y/N) look away turning his gleeful to a frown. The first slip up of his expression he is happy to be not caught.
"Could you share with me ? Because sometimes sharing helps to ease the burden". His eyes soften along his voice quiter. After all he would hate to let others know about something that meant only for his ears to heard or else too bad he has know each their names and wipe their existence with the power he have as an new god of the world.
"I—" (Y/N) suck breath. "I think I— will take my leave now". Quickly without checking at the other she took her bag, place her order of payment and left hurried failing to notice his hand in air with the intent to grip her wrist and stood up from his seat watching her back becoming smaller and smaller and smaller. All her mind had filled with her dull past of her friends smiling in front of her but sneering and spatting lies behind her back, preventing others students of befriending her, isolating her before comforting her with web of deceit how others are cruel and mockingly laughing at her face when in dispair she learnt the truth. Even stealing her right of cutting her ties with them instead the trio announced of leaving such a pathetic person as (Y/N) herself when she asked the reason behind such cruelty were offered because "It was fun". A measly toy she was to them when to her they were her friends, her non-blood family.
It left a scare to never able to look at other people with the same pure faith she had on people. Refusing to believe be rewarded by good people and doubting each mutters coming out of their tongues. Paying more attention of their behavior after all what the bitterness of betrayal is given by an alley not an enemy that's the first reason she notice Light's off putting behaviors.
Meanwhile Light was left clenching his jaw and fury rush in his head to whisk away all the plates from the table, lash out his boiling anger. How could she left him ? All alone and not even sharing her past when she talks as if she knows him.
"Someone's angry". Ryuk stood up on his feet, lacing his arms behind his head in an laid-back position in contrast of the human's emotions piling. The death note user held back to glare at the hideous creature he deems and walk to the counter paying both of their order and taking her money on his palm. Touching the corners that her fingers have touched. He gently smiled walking out of the horrible choice of cafe to his house letting his head cool by the breeze kissing his face away and eyes on guard for any followers. This realization made his eyes slightly wide at how dangerous loosen his guard was staying with (Y/N) not care of the world, his world, his concerns.
His sole focus on her locked world he seem to unable to step inside unlike countless others he has done. Within seconds to days his result was the same. Victory but with her he tasted not only failure yet desire too. The desire to be seen, to be known. As much as he despite of someone knowing his true self to exploit or use for their own gain like Misa or expose him as Kisa like the annoying detective L. She is different, she wants to know him, she seen right though him, his unspoken flaws to perfections without a hint of scorch. She sees him for who he is and tell him to embrace it even if it means risking her life by sharing her nagative thoughts. Giggy feeling spread like vines over his body, dipping into his flesh to find it's way to his heart. Just imagining how she would react of him being the Kira, her cousin is obsessed with and the real reason she is with him already makes him yearn for her. Want to see her, see how more these measly feelings could grow ? But if it becomes a obstacle then he must cut the root of it all. Nothing would stop him from becoming the god.
Then how ? How come every single day from the day on he set up accidentally meetings with (Y/N), making time to be with her rather than his usual duty of writing criminal names on his death note to create a better place, be with her than Kira most of the time even going as far as to disguise Misa as a way of entering an certain (H/C)'s head girl house little by little. He simply can't seem to stop this twisted pleasure of inserting himself on the picture life beside (Y/N) without any filth or that bitch inside.
The longer he spends time, the longer those feelings distinct where the god of death teases him when the girl of his wet dreams arrive and she is getting clever with her excuses better than the precious one but how adorable ? When the one being lied is the master of lies himself. He has impressively maintaining the almost perfect double life as a student and the infamous Kira that lies from small to big holds no surprise to him anymore. So, albeit knowing her little amusing lies his patient, one of his strong suit has been helping the thread from being cut off however he is growing impatient. Astonishing him and proving his desire for her was greatly underestimated and that strong suit of his apparently doesn't work related to (Y/N) who is passing day, week is scared for her life.
She might be little oblivious— but not blind to his increasingly uncomfortable advances towards her about inviting her to his home when his parents are out, touching her at every chance he gets, leaning closer than a boy having girlfriend should be, whispering into her ear, creating one-sided plan without Misa, tried holding her hands—claiming it's for her safety from strange men attacking her. Ironic ? when he himself is no better than the 'strange men' he described. Perhaps more dangerous he was because the dreadful day arrived. The day where their pretense of nothing happening is ruined. The say where his patient put to an end along his desire begin to woven the fate of their to seal together. Branding (Y/N) his.
"Good thing I ran out of the class when he was called out by the teacher". She sighed of relief finding no sight of an certain brown head behind her. For some strange reasons the deity might want to punish her or else why the accidental meetings with him keep occurring ? Or "This is a set up ?" No, what would he want from her ? Surely he isn't thinking of cheating on Misa— no. (Y/N) shook her head from digging into the topic far too liking from her.
Ultimately without any difficulties she calmly reached her house, stretching her arms and walking upstairs to her room when her eyes went to Misa's room and memories of her moving to their house after her parents death flooded to how late at night whimpering, wailing could be came from her room and (Y/N) helplessly call her parents to help Misa. Only if her parents weren't killed, if only her cousin lived happily, only if Kira didn't exist, only if she didn't developed unhealthy obsession then perhaps Light wouldn't be able to came into her sister life and have the chance to cheat on her. "No, no. I am again imagining things. He wouldn't cheat on her".
Quickly her toes step upwards to her roon and her fingers touch the cold doorknob only to twist and open it with a creaking noise and the straps of her bag fell with a thud on the ground while her eyes remained on the ground. "I need a shower". She closed the door behind her and about to head her attached bathroom when her (E/C) eyes met his rather red alike ruby eyes fondly.
Light sat on her bed flipping her art pages. "W-what ? A-are you doing ?" He silently spin a key around his finger. Not any key but a key to their house.
"Gifted by Misa". His gently voice revealed however the girl oppose of him felt her head spinning, rounding around her head, heart pumping in fear.
Fear.
Terror.
Disgust.
All the negative emotions she ever felt was surfacing over her face Light could see, he was like an magician reading her thoughts, her emotions, her fears and he would surely use them. Make them his weapon.
"This is disgusting". (Y/N) with a sneer about to run out—
"Do you not fear for Misa's life ?" Her all actions stop in air. Breathing escalated, hard to inhale, hard to feel, hard to express.
"What do you mean ?" She turn to face the man she thought could be trustworthy for Misa. "What do you mean ?" She yelled louder for him to reply her yet all he offered was a wordless smile. A smile nothing alike an polite gentleman instead a victory smile, a smile only those offer when they know all the power of the pawns on a chessboard are on their palms and she was a pawn destined be to at his control. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN ?" She cried, run towards him and yunk his white collar.
"She is your lover ! How could you threat her life ?" How could he ? How dare he ? How heartless he has to be not caring about others ? Especially of his loved ones, the ones who would do anything for him, sacrifice for him, fight for him, be with him. Tears well in her eyes merely imagining Misa's perished body in front of her.
"If you dare to touch my family I will kill you". (Y/N) threaten, fisting onto his thin cloth. A family is what Misa is to her. A sister. A cousin she will do any limits of protect. Even if it means killing hi—
"Even if it means sacrificing yourself ?"
"What ?" Her eyes narrowed.
"I never liked her let alone romantically viewed her. She is nothing but a nuisance, a thone, a mistake, a pest in my life. I never wanted her. She did and forced me". (Y/N) refuse to believe the words coming out of his filthy lips. "The one I want is you. I desire you". He breathless confessed his hidden want. Leaning over her face while her grip on his collar crumble, she lean away astonished.
"No. You don't". She step back gazing at his yearning eyes, cleared bronze eyes held reflection of her, just like his mind filled with her, his heart filled with her. His larger hand grip her wrist from stepping away any further than she already was in the past days. Another hand circle around her waist pulling closer.
"Don't leave me. You must be mine. You should be mine". He mutter leaning his head to her heart, ear pressed to the racing heart, pulses of her veins and his right hand intertwined with hers like their lives were now. "You are the only one who truly understood me. Seen me how I am. Never forced me. Criticized me, always bluntly told my flaws to my perfections. You are someone to be my queen. To be mine entirely and eternally". He closed his eyes pressing against her chest— to her heart racing because of him. Her breathing halted because of him. Her pulse rushing because of him. Everything she feels because of him. He is equally in her roots just like she was in his.
(Y/N) slowly looked at him to find his eye lids opening and all she found was madness, chaos, desire and her reflection. From the moment they met her intitution already announced him danger, bad news and fake. But she brush it off, ignoring the voices within her mind pointing how intensely he looked at her. How he behaved with her but she pretend to be unaware, run away from the reality that something was off with him all for the sake of her sister's happiness attached to this man yet it lead nothing else than her own downhill.
Before she realize the danger surrounded her, it was too late. She was caged. In his palm as a pawn of desires and caged in his arms. "Be with me and Misa will be alright. Be my queen and no harm with be done. My love, you don't know what can I do to disappear a person". Her knees gave up only for Light to hold her. "Do not worry. I am here. Give yourself to me and everything will be alright".
With a thud her back touch her once safety of a bed along the destroyer of her life, the killer of her soul, the ruiner of her body above her. His intelligent gaze replaced with full of lust. Adulation adoration "What would you do if I don't obey you ?"
"Kill Misa and I promise I will get away with it". Light honestly revealed, he has already plan to get rid of the good for nothing god of death, Rem with Misa. The only reason she wasn't dead to his inconvenience of the Rem but to own (Y/N) he will make it possible and crowned her his queen.
School white shirt disregarded baring her upper skin and her breast under the bra. Hungry eyes drank at the sun ray's kissed (S/C) skin. A divine present she is to him. The perfect love of his life. Insteadly he pressed his lips to hers earning a groan from himself due to how good it felt. Her lips were smooth, soft featherly and creamy like the pastries he likes. His tongue invade hers, tasting her tongue, twisting them together and sucking her, taking all her sweetness to himself, blending their saliva together and moving in rhythm of their love song ignoring how she remained unwavered.
When air became a need, a way to breath he decided to separate his lips from her leaving a lace of sliver saliva thread onto their lips— an evidence of his passionate kiss. He smirk finding her (S/C) cheeks decorated with crimson hue, lips gleaming his saliva and tears build on those hatred eyes.
Light insteadly latch Into her skin, curious if her body taste as sweet her lips does and he wasn't disappointed sucking her chin, neck, collarbone banding her his with the butterflies kisses and purple hickeys. However only whimpers, choked tears were tuning his ears unlike the music of moans he was awaiting. How could she ? Contrast to he was in heaven, the hell was brought for her on earth. Torturing her with those burning hands, soul-sucking kisses and purple scars on her body. The ruiner of her ripped the bra she used as an shield presenting her vulnerable and helpless.
Her breath hitched and eyes shut feeling wet lips coating her buds and he indulge his fantasy of his sleepless night come true even better beyond his tricks of imagination. He lovely bite and circle the buds with his tongue to earn any sweet noise from (Y/N)'s pretty lips. Showering devotion to their love making. "She is so perfect". Her head to toe was a goddess in a human's body. All of her flaws and hatred he viewed in her turned into rose tinted glass. Quickly those purple and blue bruises painted over her breast and his other hand kneading her breast as he continue to mark her down and down until his eyes sparkle with excitement and hers with terror.
He slowly dragged her cloth all together letting harsh breeze touch her second most private part which he delightfully touched. "So delicious it looks. All for me to have". Blood painfully rush to his own private part palming her small sex and lean his mouth inside the flesh. Finally the held tears of her roll down, crying at her cruel deity. At the cruel fate written for her. "Please help. Somebody, anybody help". How sad. Pitifully she quiver under Light who was enjoying the taste of her, the liquid she made from, created into.
"I can't". Crazed blood rush into his mind that he no longer take his slow time to worship his queen within a blink of an eye his own lower pants gone and without preparation, without protection he slammed his cock into her virgin flesh filling himself tight around her walls. "How sweet. All your first is me and I will make sure your last is me too". He bite his lips, gripping her naked thighs hard that she felt her bones would break.
"But my soul is broken". She screamed her pain of being raped. Agony of taking his part into her pussy so suddenly and forcefully. It hurts. It hurts more when he moved inside her, thrust again and again. Brim of bile threat to pour out of her throat as he continue to pleasure himself using her body— no a body belongs to him.
"So good, love. You are the sweetest. The most divine queen you will be". He chuckle thrusting faster. In mind to impregnate her. Yes, he will make sure to lock the shackle around her ankle well and the lock will be their sweet child which she soon realize when his hips slowed and strings of white liquid was released inside her womb.
"No. No. No. No. No. No". (Y/N) screamed at his face, red from anger. "I will kill this child if it grew". But all he did was lean and kiss her lips.
"Then I will kill Misa, your family and each person you come to care one by one". He shuss her by kissing her adorable protest only he can heard and see not even that Ryuk who is not here from the beginning busy devouring his addicted apples.
Just like he is slave to his (Y/N) "I am—". He kiss her. "Addicted".
FIN
#dark romance#female reader#male yandere#murder#thriller#x reader#yandere#yandere community#Light yagami x reader#Yandere x reader#Death note x reader#Light yagami#fem reader#yandere x female reader#yandere x you#yandere x fem reader#yagami light#light yagami x y/n#light yagami x you#death note x you#Yandere!light#Light yagami imagine#obession#obsessive love#possessive#possessive love#chubby reader#fem chubby reader#yandere x reader smut
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Requested by: @idkwthgoitmww <3 thanks, hun! Words: 2,451 Pairing: Negan Smith x Fem!Reader Warnings: language, descriptions of blood and injuries, references to assault and possible attempted sexual violence (did not occur, no description or details) Summary: Negan has to figure out why you've collapsed and try to patch you up. Concern and banter ensues... A/N: I intended this to be the final part, but now I think maybe we need a little more closure with these two? Hmm... should I do one more part? Let me know in the reblogs or comments!
Previous part here!
“Shit, shit, shit,” Negan growled through his teeth. “Alright. Okay…” He scooped you into his arms the rest of the way and laid you down on the couch as gently as he could. Clearly, more had happened out there than you had admitted to him. He clasped your face one more time in an attempt to rouse you. “Hey, doll? Wake up,” he urged. But not even an eyelid twitched. You were out cold. Negan straightened up and rubbed a hand over his face. Obviously, there was a reason you were passed out, so he needed to figure out what it was and fix it. A flash of terror seemed to seize his heart in a tight, icy grip. Hopefully, he could fix it.
His eyes went to your head, propped on the throw pillow at one end of the couch. Head injury? He knelt beside you and cupped your head in his hands gently, turning it slightly this way and that, feeling for any bumps or injuries. He felt and saw nothing besides the injury to your ear which he’d already noticed, and that certainly wasn’t enough to warrant you passing out. His hands and his eyes traveled down to your neck. He unwrapped your scarf and slipped it off. There was the mark he’d seen right away, which was quickly darkening toward a bruise. A bruise and a scratch? Someone had had you by the neck? Just the idea of it made a hot flame of anger flare upwards in his chest.
His fingers went to the buttons of your coat and he loosed them. The wool fabric fell open and he didn’t have to search for an explanation any longer. “Oh, shit,” he cursed. Your white sweater was completely stained crimson on your left side. The material was soaked with blood and it was running toward your back and starting to seep into your coat. “Fuck me,” Negan swore, climbing hurriedly to his feet. He rushed over to the shelves and grabbed a couple clean towels before returning to your side. He let out a shaky breath.
Negan peeled your shirt up, completely unsure of what he would find underneath. At first, he was met only with the sight of a gauze bandage taped to your skin, also completely saturated with your blood. But when he peeled that up, there was a rather significant round hole in your side, about halfway between the flare of your hip and your ribs. A gunshot wound. It looked like you’d tried to stitch it yourself, but the stitches were clumsy and ineffective, probably due at least in part to the fact that you wouldn’t have been able to see it well. “Jesus, doll,” Negan murmured. He gently rolled you slightly toward the back of the couch and tucked one of the towels underneath you. The other he pressed to the wound while he tried to think about what to do. He didn’t have a ton of first aid supplies on hand. His hazel eyes landed on your pack and he dragged it closer, keeping pressure on the wound with the other hand as best he could.
The first thing he pulled out from inside your bag was another bloodstained shirt. He held it up and could see the actual bullet hole through the fabric. He tossed it down. He dug inside again and finally his hands closed around a plastic bag full of first aid supplies. He let out a breath of relief and started setting them out on the little table next to him.
He looked at you lying prone on the couch and realized the bleeding might slow if he rolled you onto your side. “Alright, sweetheart. Let’s get you fixed up,” he said softly. He stood and slipped his hands underneath you again and gently tipped you toward the back of the couch, adjusting the pillow beneath your head. It was just then, perhaps jostled awake, when you started to stir.
The first thing you really remembered was the sensation of cold air on your side and the residual cloud of pain which seemed to be pulsing through your entire torso. “Fuck,” you muttered, dragging your eyelids open.
“Doll?” Negan sounded relieved and you felt his hand press down hard on your side, adding pressure to some wad of something soft.
“Ow!” you hissed, trying to sit up and push him off you.
“Whoa, whoa! Take it easy! You’re bleeding a lot here. We’ve gotta get this stitched up again,” Negan said.
“I already stitched it,” you argued, not thinking entirely clearly at the moment.
“Yeah, and you did a piss poor job, which is why you’re currently lying in a pool of your own blood,” he retorted, not letting up on the pressure to the wound.
You craned your neck to look over at Negan and your side, your brows tense in a wince. Your sweater was soaked crimson and pushed up so Negan could hold a towel over the wound. Your skin was smeared and stained. You felt suddenly tired and laid back down, trying to catch your breath. “Fine… okay,” you sighed. “Do whatever you need to.”
Negan let out a noise that was part laugh and part scoff. “I was planning on it. Hey—is the bullet still in there?”
You nodded, closing your eyes against another wave of pain. “Yeah…”
“Uh, shouldn’t we try to get that out? You could get an infection.”
You laughed grimly. “I was going to leave it in because going on a fishing expedition inside my body with dirty hands while I was laying in the woods didn’t seem like a good idea. Not to mention the fact that I can’t really see it. But please, by all means…”
Negan cleared his throat. “Alright. Hey—hold the towel on here a minute.” You placed your hand over his, sharply aware of even the glancing contact before he slipped away. You stared at the back of the worn couch, focusing on the little squares of woven stitches. You could hear him opening and closing cabinets in the next room.
“Take your time,” you said loudly. “Not like I’m slowly bleeding out over here...”
Negan came back in with a large glass bottle in his hand. Vodka.
You stared at him. “I’m more of a whiskey girl, myself,” you said dryly.
He let out a disbelieving laugh and shook his head. You were still cracking jokes with a bullet in your side. “Of course you are, doll. I’d have guessed that. But this is all I’ve got.” You finally noticed the long silver instrument in his other hand and any jest you had left in you slipped away. You gulped at the sight of the cold metal of the long tweezers.
“You better hand me that bottle,” you said.
“It’s for disinfect—”
“I don’t give a shit. I need a drink if you’re going to dig that thing into me,” you breathed.
_ _ _ _ _ _
The sound of your own breathing came first, steady but louder than normal, and then there was the comforting sound of a crackling fire in the background. Your eyes were a bit bleary as you opened them but cleared as you blinked a few times. Your side felt as if it was on fire.
You shifted on the couch and Negan straightened up in his chair, the grim expression on his face melting away. “Thank fuck you’re awake,” he said, leaning forward to study your face. “How ya feelin’?”
“Uhh—I think a little drunk actually,” you said, sitting up and putting a hand to your head. The room wobbled a little.
“I’m not surprised. You may have overdone it on the liquid courage. I barely had enough to do the job,” Negan said.
You pressed a hand over your side and could feel that he’d secured a bandage and gauze over the wound. The bandage wrapped all the way around you. “I passed out again?”
Negan nodded and then grabbed a little saucer off the table and held it out so you could see what was on it. “Fucker was in there pretty deep,” he said. The bullet made a sharp noise as it rolled on the ceramic. It was stained with a rusty coating of dried blood.
You nodded. “Right. Well, you got it. Don’t throw that out. I want it,” you said with a half-smile. “I’ll make a necklace or something with it.” Negan didn’t look amused. “It stitched up okay?”
Negan nodded again, discarding the plate on the table again and giving you a long, serious look. “Yeah, it was easy since I could actually see it.” He sighed as you avoided his hazel eyes. “Your ear. That’s a bullet graze.” It wasn’t a question.
You fiddled with the edge of blanket he’d tucked over you, but said nothing. Negan sighed heavily again and you were surprised to see him anxiously running both his hands over his face. You thought they looked a little shaky even. “I’m fine,” you said.
“Somebody almost blew your head off on the way here, but you’re fine?” he said. His voice was deep and gruff, and you could hear anger in it. Not at you, but at what had happened. It surprised you how much feeling was in his voice. “Tell me.”
You gulped and shrugged. “I—ran into some men on the way here. First, they demanded my gear but—that—wasn’t enough,” you said. You avoided his eyes again. “I don’t think they even wanted the gear...” you trailed off. There was a tense silence for a long moment before you hazarded a glance up at Negan and there was a shadow on his face and a violent rage behind his eyes. “They underestimated me. I fought them off but—the last guy had a gun I didn’t know about... But—I took care of it. I’m fine,” you said again, repeating it in the same tone you had every single time you’d already said it. Were you trying to convince yourself or him?
Negan leaned forward, his gaze still intense. “You were attacked by a group of men on the way here, shot in the side, and almost shot in the head which you barely survived, and you’re ‘fine’,” he said. His expression softened as he looked at you, the anger replaced with some mixture of worry and sorrow and regret. “Doll—”
You let out a humorless laugh. “I have to be fine! So, I am!” you said, perhaps a little more loudly than you needed to. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve been in almost the exact same situation since the world went to shit? Be glad you were born a man.”
His eyes flickered over your face, the worry on your behalf still pronounced. “Coming to see me would be a pretty fuckin’ stupid reason to die,” he said.
“I didn’t die, did I? I’m fine.”
He looked hesitant. “None of them got away? Because if they did, I will go out there right now and put them down myself. Just say the word.”
You shook your head. “None of them are left. I took care of it.”
His eyes flickered between yours and the feeling between you was intense and charged. His jaw tightened and he straightened up again in his seat. “For fuck’s sake, why the hell didn’t you just tell me what happened when you got here?”
You opened your mouth to speak, then closed it again. Then, you finally said, “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”
Negan gave you a look. “You were shot. You almost died. It is a big fuckin’ deal. Besides, how’d that work out for you, hmm? Not making a big deal out of it? You passed out right in front of me and were suddenly soaked in blood.”
“I thought I’d taken care of it myself. I didn’t think—”
Negan crossed his arms, surveying you from his place at the table. “No, you just never want to have to rely on anyone else. Because you think that makes you vulnerable.”
You looked at him with a struck look of surprise and he knew he’d hit the mark. “What, were you a shrink in your last life?”
“No. A gym teacher,” he said with a small laugh.
You couldn’t stop the laugh that left you just after his. “Wow. Really? Sexy,” you said sarcastically.
His lips curved in a small smile. He was relieved you were cracking jokes again. Some of the tension in the air seemed to evaporate. “I’m glad you think so. You’re stuck here now for a few days, so get comfortable, sweetheart.”
You rolled your eyes. “If you think I’m going to let you, of all people, boss me around—”
Negan smiled more broadly. “I love when you try to argue with me. It’s good. I need a firm fucking hand. Speaking of jobs requiring a firm hand—”
“Negan—” you warned him, your tone dangerous.
“—I better go cut some more firewood before we run out,” he finished with a grin. You felt your cheeks flushing. “Jesus, where was your dirty little mind at?” he asked, climbing to his feet. “You relax and drink some water. I’ll be back in a few.”
You stared at his tall frame as he pulled his coat on and opened the door to step outside. “You said it that way on purpose!” you yelled after him.
He glanced back at you over his shoulder from the doorway with that same shit-eating grin. “What? I don’t get what you’re driving at. Maybe you could explain it to me?”
You flicked him off and shot him a glare. Negan only laughed. “Listen, don’t get your hopes up. You’ve got some healing up to do before we can—”
“Negan—” you growled.
“—walk back to Alexandria together. For fuck’s sake, what did you think I was about to say?” You gave him an unamused look and he laughed again. The sound warmed you. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got it from here. Just rest. You’ll be back kicking ass before you know it. And in the meantime, I am fuckin’ thrilled to have your company.”
#negan smith x fem!reader#negan smith#negan imagines#negan drabbles#wicked wednesday#negan smith x reader#negan smith x you#negan x y/n#negan fics#the walking dead#negan twd
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Phantasmagoria (Part III)
Tell Me to Stop (Sanemi’s Version)
Sanemi x F!Reader • Modern AU • NSFW
A/N: read the fucking warnings before you report.
Massive TW: grief • loss of a parent • canon character death • drug and alcohol abuse • panic • references to previous attempted S/A • violence between characters • more descriptions of Douma getting his ass kicked (still deserved) • situation requiring a hospital
CW: 25k words. MDNI. explicit sexual content ahead • multiple creampies • oral (f! and m!receiving) • face sitting • swearing • angst with a good ending • non-sexual intimacy
Oh boy. It’s done.
This one is super personal to me, so I really hope you guys enjoy. Thank you for showing this story your love, I adore you all.
Without further ado!
Sanemi’s Playlist
PART ONE • PART TWO
(Sanemi’s POV)
The Party on 52nd Street
Sanemi couldn’t bring himself to say that he regretted how he’d ended up in handcuffs. Sure, his knuckles were bruised to shit and covered in blood that was and was not his, but at least his face was still a hell of a lot prettier than the sniveling, cowardly asshole curled onto his side on the gravel outside his house.
Granted, the severe swelling of Douma’s face was because of Sanemi, but truthfully, he thought it was an improvement. By the time Sanemi had been yanked off of the barely conscious, campus-resident creep, those freakish, multi-colored eyes had been so blackened and swollen, it was a wonder that Douma had even been able to see the cops swarming his living room at all.
Sanemi knew the only reason his ass wasn’t being thrown into the back of the police cruiser waiting out behind Douma’s hell den was because Tengen had been the one to escort him out. And, because the local police had been itching to bust Douma for his little drug operation for months, Douma had been hauled out as well, handcuffed for good measure (and for insult) by Tengen.
It also helped that Douma was a dumbass, who’d sent the incriminating photos of his assault on Y/N to the groupchat that included all three of Tengen’s partners. Once he was sure they were safely out of view of spectators and witnesses giving statements to the other responding officers inside, Tengen took care to slam the greasy asshole to the ground, getting a few good kicks in as Douma curled pathetically against the asphalt.
“I will sue your ass,” Douma wheezed as he struggled to catch his breath. Through the purple black swells of his eye sockets, Sanemi could just make out the sliver of jewel-toned irises as they glared in his direction. “The whore fucking wanted it rough.”
Sanemi lunged for the cowering bastard where he lay, ready to stomp the fucker’s face in once and for all, but Tengen roughly threw him back against the side of his cruiser before he could.
“He’s trying to rile you up. Don’t fall for his shit,” Tengen’s magenta eyes were full of warning as he held Sanemi back. “He was stupid enough to send proof of the assault; ain’t no way in hell anyone buys that it was consensual.”
But Sanemi could only see red, the image of Y/N’s tear-streaked and terrified face burned permanently into his brain, worse than any scar that he bore on his skin.
“I don’t give a fuck, it’s working,” Sanemi snarled, struggling against Tengen’s iron-clad grip on him. “I want him fucking dead.”
“Y/N needs you not to be in prison. Don’t you two have something goin’ on?” Tengen shot back hotly. The young cop’s words stilled Sanemi’s struggle against the police cruiser, his fury deflating slightly.
As Kyojuro’s car had jumped the curb in front of the house, both boys agreed to split up once inside the house. Kyojuro was tasked with retrieving Y/N from wherever Akaza had hid her, because Sanemi had viciously vowed that he would be the one dealing with Douma.
And so, he had.
Party attendants had taken one look at Sanemi’s stony face as he’d made his way through the house to the main living room and parted, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire of the violence promised in his eyes.
He’d found Douma, standing back near the speakers that crackled with some out-of-date, heavy bass music, laughing like he hadn’t a care in the world. Those monstrous eyes had met Sanemi’s for only a split second, but the delighted malice they beheld was enough to make Sanemi want nothing more than to make the monster bleed.
Douma’s answering smile had been brief, unable to withstand the smash of his fist as the enraged Sanemi knocked him to the ground and lunged to pin him down.
Kyojuro’s car was long gone by the time Sanemi and Douma had been dragged out of that party house of horrors by Tengen in handcuffs, Sanemi smirking at the way Tengen kicked at the whimpering bastard’s feet every few steps. But that meant that Sanemi had no idea how Y/N was even doing – or whether she’d sustained more serious injuries than what Douma had shown off.
He didn’t want to think about what else might have happened in that room. If he did, Douma would surely not survive the impending ride to the police station.
Sanemi knew, however, that Tengen was right, however much it pissed him off. Y/N was the priority here, not him or his righteous, violent fury. He would restrain himself – for her. Nonetheless, Sanemi felt a rush of gratitude for the young cop, who, despite cautioning Sanemi away from ripping the cretin apart once and for all, spat directly on Douma’s bruised, bleeding face.
Half an hour later, and Sanemi was being escorted by his friend through the familiar sliding doors of the police station. It took only five minutes of him speaking with two other detectives before he was strolling leisurely back out of the station and into the small parking lot with Tengen, who offered to drive him back to his apartment.
All it had taken was for Sanemi to whip out his phone to show them the picture Douma had sent of Y/N around for them to agree that the benefit of letting Sanemi go outweighed the burden of booking him; besides, the baggies of Wisteria they’d found on the famous party-thrower meant they’d caught the larger fish anyways.
If it weren’t for the looming threat that Douma had perhaps inflicted far more harm upon Y/N, Sanemi almost would have felt good striding out of the busy police station, but the fact that she might be with Kyojuro at a hospital somewhere, in need of treatment, sat in his gut like an icy stone, tempered only by the murderous rage he still felt.
In his stewing, Sanemi almost didn’t realize that Tengen was speaking to him.
“Look, I’m not sayin’ I don’t get your reasoning. I do,” Tengen said lowly, pausing near his cruiser to face Sanemi, though his eyes scanned the parking lot to ensure unwanted ears weren’t listening in. “Frankly, if I didn’t have my job to worry about, I woulda let you keep going. He deserved it.”
“But I don’t wanna see you falling back into old habits.” The young cop sighed, clapping Sanemi on the back. “You’ve been doing so well.”
Sanemi grimaced. “I’m not,” he bit out darkly. “This wasn’t about me. It was about her.”
Tengen eyed him incredulously but sighed. “It’d do you good to remember that. You can’t work things out with her if I’m haulin’ your ass to prison.”
Sanemi didn’t have the heart to tell him he’d long since fucked up any chances of working things out with Y/N.
----------
“This is the third time you’ve been brought in this month,” the young cop chastised him, crossing an ankle over his knee as he folded his massive arms across his broad chest. “And we’re only two weeks into December.”
Sanemi grimaced as he shifted in the dingy metal seat, his wrists going numb behind his back as the metal of the handcuffs around his wrists dug into his skin. He scrunched his nose, trying to stifle the drop of blood sliding down from his nostril before it could reach his mouth, though without much success.
He was growing more agitated as he waited on his best friend to come collect him – yet again, from the Ubayashiki police station, but Kyojuro had yet to show.
“Listen – Shinazugawa, is it?” The cop had a peculiar shade of silver hair, and a cursory glance-over by Sanemi revealed that he had an apparent penchant for fuschia eyeliner, an almost perfect match to the hue of the discerning eyes which watched him. “You’re a student at Ubaya-U, right?”
Sanemi only nodded, ducking his head down to avoid holding the officer’s gaze for too long, lest he see how dead the nineteen-year-old truly felt.
“My name’s Uzui – Tengen Uzui -- I graudated last year,” the man called Uzui said, somewhat proudly. “So I know you’re a smart kid, but you can’t keep getting hauled in like this. You’ve got too much goin’ for ya.”
Sanemi finally made a sound. “I got nothin’ going for me,” he scoffed, finally lifting his eyes to meet Uzui’s stern face. “Spare me the ‘you’re better than this,’ crap.”
Uzui only rolled his eyes. “Look, kid, whatever happened to you before you got here, you’ve gotta deal with it – but not like this.” Sanemi opened his mouth to snap back, but the young cop paid him no mind, only continuing his lecture. “I’m not gonna ask, because frankly, I don’t care that much. But I know a good kid when I see one, and I don’t think you want to live this way.”
Uzui sighed. “Surely you’ve got someone in your life you wanna do right by? A parent, or a girl, maybe?”
Sanemi’s already sour mood dampened even further. He was about to bite out that no, he had no one, when Kyojuro finally pushed through the doors of the police station, amber eyes scanning the intake area until they narrowed in on him.
And he looked tired. So goddamn tired, that for once, Sanemi felt something other than the numbness he’d felt slowly swallowing him whole over the last three months.
He felt guilty; he’d forgotten, that while he may not have cared about his own stupid actions affected himself, he did care about how they impacted his best friend. Sanemi’s only friend, really, though that was entirely his own fault.
But Sanemi’s guilt could not stop him from checking back out as Kyojuro walked over and spoke in a hushed voice with Uzui, both tossing concerning glances his direction every few minutes. Before he knew it, Uzui was standing and unlocking the handcuffs from around Sanemi’s wrists, the latter’s shoulders relaxing as his arms were released from behind his back.
“I’m letting you off with a warning, but with a condition” Uzui said simply, tossing the handcuffs back onto his desk. The young cop produced a small, white card from his pocket and pressed it into Sanemi’s hand. “I want you checking in with me every couple of weeks. We can do it here, or wherever you want – but it ain’t optional.” Uzui smiled wryly at the baffled look on Sanemi’s face. “Think of it as an unofficial probation. Until you settle down a bit.”
Uzui parted with a shake of Kyojuro’s hand and a wink at Sanemi before sauntering off down one of the adjacent hallways abutting the intake area, leaving the two boys behind.
Sanemi shoved his sore hands into his pockets, barely noticing the stinging in his bleeding knuckles as they chafed against the fabric of his pants.
“I can’t keep doing this for you, Sanemi,” Kyojuro’s voice said quietly from beside him, and Sanemi’s head snapped over to his friend. “You’re destroying yourself. I can’t just sit by and watch it.”
Deep down, Sanemi knew his friend was right, and he was a little afraid that he risked losing the fiery blonde for good, just as he apparently had lost his other best friend, though, it wasn’t like she’d been around after…after he died.
But if Sanemi lost Kyojuro for good, he’d truly have no one left, and so, he fingered the card that Uzui had given him as it sat in his pocket, and resolved he would try; if not for himself, then for the last person on earth who still gave a shit about him.
-----
Later, the nineteen-year-old managed to stumble his way back to his dorm and he collapsed in his bed, not bothering to nurse his bleeding nose or even change out of his dirty, rumpled clothes. His knuckles stung and his body ached from the scuffle, but he found that he much preferred the throb of the bruises blooming across his body to the deep numbness he felt in his heart.
As he began to slip into a dreamless slumber, a pair of pretty eyes and a sparkling smile that had once filled him with so much warmth flashed through Sanemi’s mind. If he concentrated hard enough, he thought he could just recall the sound of her laugh, though it had been months since he’d last heard it.
He frowned as he tossed and turned in his bed, desperate to throw out thoughts of her, because she tended to disrupt his sleep and to make him feel even lower than he already knew himself to be.
And he didn’t want to think about what Y/N would say if she could see him now.
Though, Sanemi supposed, that would assume she would give enough of a shit about him to have an opinion on him at all.
He winced at the thought, so callous and bitter. He didn’t truly mean to be so cruel to her, even in his thoughts; he knew she didn’t deserve it. Sanemi knew it was his fault things had gotten as bad as they were between them – knew it was because of his piss-poor reaction to her admittedly badly-timed love confession that had driven her away.
After Genya’s death, Sanemi hadn’t much of a heart left that he could claim, but he’d known that whatever of it remained surely belonged to her, just as he always had. So, he’d tried to reach out after his brother’s funeral, during one of those rare moments of clarity when he wasn’t just existing on autopilot, detached from the world around him, but she’d never responded.
Her silence had been slowly needling him to death by a thousand sharp pricks to what remained of his pitiful heart, threatening to whittle it away entirely.
Sanemi imagined himself a pendulum that couldn’t decide whether he was angrier at himself or at her; forever swinging between his shame for lashing out the way he had at the train station and anger with Y/N for thinking his reaction had anything to do with her at all.
He’d never imagined himself worthy of Y/N – his best friend, so beautiful and intelligent and kind-hearted, even though he’d been so stupidly in love with her since they were small children. He’d always been too rough, too scarred, too…much. But he’d hoped, no matter how foolishly so, that perhaps one day, he’d work himself up to being worthy of her, be the reason she smiled and laughed and loved.
But, as Sanemi felt his stomach squeeze uncomfortably at the memory of her tear-streaked face, staring at the platform before the train he’d boarded, he was reminded that one couldn’t be worthy of the person they loved if they insisted on shattering their heart like a piece of glass.
-----
In the absence of semi-regular beatdowns, Sanemi had found other ways of distracting himself from the gnawing pit of despair and loneliness that was swallowing him whole, day by day. At the start of the spring semester, he’d finally hooked up with a girl in his mathematics seminar, and then began sleeping with another a month later. For months, he’d alternated between the two, thankful that neither of them had been interested in pursuing what he could not give them. And he’d enjoyed himself, because yeah, sex felt fucking good, but at the end of each affair, he hadn’t been able to shake the way his stomach clenched with the deep-seated disgust and oily squeeze of guilt.
Guilt, because he’d felt like he’d betrayed her, which was ridiculous considering she wasn’t his even if he’d always been hers; even if he knew, deep in his soul, that he always would be.
-----
A few nights later, he was out grabbing dinner on campus with Mitsuri and Obanai, the two lovebirds happily holding hands the entire evening, when they passed Shinobu crossing the green, ignoring her roommate’s kind greeting.
Though, Sanemi reasoned, she’d likely been trying to avoid having to make eye contact with them, so as to conceal her new black eye. While Sanemi would never raise a hand to a woman himself, that hadn’t stopped him from feeling a small bit of satisfaction at the memory of Makio stalking right up to the petite pharmacology student and nailing her square in the face.
In retrospect, Sanemi didn’t know if it was fair to blame Shinobu for Douma’s actions, but it was clear Makio did. Given the general iciness of the group toward the young woman who’d garnered a reputation for dealing Wisteria around campus, it seemed as though the others did, too.
He’d decided to withhold his feelings towards Y/N’s roommate until she, herself, indicated how she wanted to approach their friendship. It was her call to make, given that she was the one who’d been the target of Douma’s retribution.
Not that Sanemi would know of Y/N’s thoughts on the matter anytime soon; they hadn’t spoken since that morning in his kitchen, and she’d not returned any of his texts or calls in the days since the incident at the party. He knew she likely needed her space, so after the third straight day of no response, he resolved to give it to her.
It was hard to accept her radio silence, because it sent him right back to that feeling he’d had last year when he’d been urgently trying to find her after he’d learned her mother had died, and he feared she would disappear yet again. However, the group was set to go to Tengen’s family’s lake house that weekend for one last summer hoorah before classes began once more, and Kyojuro had already confirmed that Y/N was planning on going.
All of them were, except for Shinobu and Giyuu, according to Mitsuri that night as they ate too-greasy food at their campus grill. The pinkette sheepishly admitted she’d spoken with her roommate the night prior, and both agreed it was probably for the best that she stay behind, especially since Y/N was going. The pair of friends, though they lived together, hadn’t spoken since the Douma incident, either. Giyuu wouldn’t have gone without Shinobu anyways, but he was already out of town visiting his sister and her new husband.
So, Sanemi was left to anxiously anticipate the upcoming weekend. The thought of being at the Uzui lake house with Y/N filled him with both longing and dread, especially because he simply did not know the extent of the harm she’d suffered at the hands of Douma.
He’d known that she and Kyo had talked and worked things out – but Sanemi knew his friend wouldn’t divulge details without her permission, so Sanemi hadn’t tried to ask, wanting to respect both of his best friends’ boundaries.
The not knowing, however, was slowly eating him alive; he’d wanted to kill Douma that night, and truthfully, he thought he still might, if the opportunity presented itself.
Not that he was one to claim moral superiority over the bastard; not when he’d spent the better part of the last two years as one of the direct causes of Y/N’s emotional pain.
-----
“It’s Mrs. Y/L/N – she … she died. Last week. The funeral was yesterday.”
-----
Kyojuro’s words split Sanemi’s heart clean in half. There had only been one other time in Sanemi’s life when he’d felt the earth beneath his feet split open and swallow him whole, and that had been when his foster mother called him to tell him his little brother was lying in a morgue with a bullet hole in his chest.
But Sanemi found himself free-falling back into the earth’s molten center, and he couldn’t help but think he deserved to burn away inside its fire, because he’d failed yet again to be there for someone he loved.
Tears burned in his eyes as memories of Y/N’s mother flashed vividly through his mind, a slideshow of kindness and love that he’d been so grateful to receive from the young mother in the wake of his parents’ deaths.
For the first few weeks following the Shinazugawa boys’ discharge from the hospital, Mrs. Y/L/N had been a stand-in mother to them both, and they’d clung to her like dew on grass, craving her motherly comfort and assurance in the wake of the violent collision which had killed most of their family.
She’d been the one to apply ointment on his and Genya’s scars every night, her hands so warm and gentle to make up for the light sting of the medicated salve as she dabbed it delicately against their skin. She’d been the one to make their bag lunches for school, always making sure to pack extra for his younger brother, who never seemed to be full no matter how much he ate.
And now, she was gone. And he hadn’t even known she was ill.
That night, Sanemi sat on the floor of his shower and cried.
He cried, because his still-mending heart had been re-broken with the news of the death of the closest thing he’d had to a second mother.
He cried, because he’d failed to be there for someone he loved yet again, and Y/N had shouldered the death of her mother and the burden of planning a funeral without her two childhood best friends to lean on, and that wasn’t fair.
But even through his tears, Sanemi felt his resolve harden. He’d failed to be there for his brother when he needed him most; he’d failed to be a decent friend to Kyojuro, in the months following the younger boy’s death as he reeled from the pain of the loss. But he would not fail again; he swore he would find her and be there for her going forward. He would track her down, and he knew she might curse at and rebel against any offer of help, but he wouldn’t balk; he’d do anything, be anything for her, if it meant ensuring she wouldn’t fall into the infinite void of despair and grief that he had.
And maybe, just maybe, he’d prove himself worthy of being her friend once more.
-----
The Uzui family’s summer house was a sprawling manor that abutted a pristine, turquoise lagoon of a private lake, complete with a secluded beach area and a large section quartered off for bonfires, should the group of college-aged guests decide they were sober enough to light it.
The house itself was three levels, with a basement and a half-loft. The considerable size of the estate meant, plus the fact that several of them would be sharing rooms with their partners – Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma all sharing one with Tengen, and Obanai and Mitsuri sharing another – meant that Kyojuro, Sanemi, and Y/N each got their own private guest room.
Sanemi had no interest in being anywhere near the room with Tengen and his three, equally loud partners once they all retired for bed later that evening, and so, he’d claimed the room on the first floor, located just down the hall from the grand kitchen, decked out in new, state-of-the-art stainless-steel appliances and marbled countertops. Kyojuro and Y/N had both taken separate rooms on the second floor, apparently sure they wouldn’t be bothered by the sounds that were sure to emanate from their host’s room until the wee hours of the morning.
They’d arrived only an hour earlier, barely setting down their bags before everyone began to change into their swimsuits to head for the sun-warmed water before nightfall, the girls eager to work on their tans. Now, as Sanemi strolled alongside the sandy shore of the lake, only Y/N remained on land, lounging out on one of the luxurious beach chairs the Uzuis had installed in a finished seating area about fifty feet from where he stood, gazing out at the group’s newest couple as they splashed in the water.
A pang of jealousy reverberated through his chest as Sanemi watched Y/N’s pink best friend giggle in the arms of her new boyfriend as he swung her around in the shallow of the lake.
Ever since Obanai had finally confessed his feelings – and his fears – to Mitsuri, the two of them had been joined at the hip, the dark-haired boy's eyes perpetually clouded in bliss every time the vibrant girl fluttered her eyelashes at him or pressed against him to whisper softly in his ear before kissing his cheek.
-----
“If you can’t be honest with her, you’re going to lose her,” Sanemi said quietly as the two men stood at the bar, both nursing sodas as they watched the objects of their heart’s desire dance wildly and carefree on the Kizuki dance floor.
Obanai looked over at him, his eyes full of the kind of pain that he’d come to know far too well over the last few years. “Maybe it’s for the best,” he said quietly. “I’m not good enough for her – I don’t want to hurt her.”
Sanemi felt like he was talking to a mirror. “You’re already hurting her,” he took a sip of his ginger ale, though he hardly tasted it. “Cause you’re breaking her heart by staying away.”
The tortured boy’s misery was palpable as he looked back to where Mitsuri danced, lively and carefree.
“You’ll regret it as long as you live if you don’t tell her now.” In his mind, he saw only Y/N’s face as she transformed from the smiling girl of his memory to the cold, numb woman of his present. “Trust me.”
-----
He was happy for them, truly; but he couldn’t deny feeling a little jealous of the couple. After all, they both got to be with the person they loved.
Sanemi knew he had no one to blame but himself, but still; he wished he hadn’t fucked it all up with Y/N.
When Sanemi discovered the speckle of blood on his sheets the morning after he’d first brought Y/N home, he’d barely made it to his bathroom before throwing up.
It was too grotesque – the thought that the Wisteria had made him lose control so badly that he’d made Y/N bleed was too much for him to bear.
But the reality had been far worse than a simple case of lost control under the influence of an experimental drug and alcohol.
Far, far worse.
-----
(Three weeks earlier)
“Oh please, we all fuck each other here,” Mitsuri laughed, and Sanemi rolled his eyes.
The pretty, bubbly girl was unshaken by Sanemi’s terse rejection of her offer to join her and Obanai in the back of Tengen’s Volkswagen van for a “good time.” Though, whether her unflappability was from the drink she nursed in her hand or from an unshakeable confidence, developed over a lifetime of being beautiful and adored, he couldn’t say.
“Well, actually,” the pinkette chewed on her lip for a moment, in thought. “I guess that’s not totally true. Y/N didn’t sleep with anyone until you, Shinazugawa.”
Sanemi’s hand, which had been reaching for his plastic cup full of water, froze mid-air.
“What.” His voice was hard, monotone.
The pink-haired girl was oblivious as she laughed. “Yeah, that’s why Makio called you ‘The Cherry Popper,’ that one night - since, y’know, you were Y/N’s first.”
Sanemi felt his vision tunnel, his heartbeat loud in his ears as it thudded uncomfortably against his chest. Something pressed against his lungs, making it difficult for him to breathe as the weight of Mitsuri’s confession settled over him.
All this time, he thought he’d simply been too rough with Y/N, under the influence of that cursed Wisteria.
But this was worse.
He’d assumed Y/N had already lost her virginity when they slept together. She’d had no hesitance in stripping him of his clothes, had begged him to go hard, and fast.
But now, as Sanemi’s breath came rough, he’d wondered if he’d misinterpreted her screams of pleasure — had they been cries of discomfort?’
Or her nails digging into his back — he’d assumed they were to spur him on, to beg him to go faster, but what if she’d been clawing at him to slow down? To stop?
If he’d known, he’d never would’ve done it — not like that, not when he was so blitzed out of his mind that he couldn’t make sure she received the kindness and gentleness she deserved.
It should’ve been special; she should have known how special she was to him. Instead, he’d fucked her no differently than any other hookup he’d had.
Was he no better than his father?
He’d been so elated that she’d responded to his kiss with enthusiasm, that admittedly, he’d lost his ability to reason. He’d pined for her for so long — years really — that the moment her lips had met his, all rational thought had flown from his head. And his heart had nearly stopped in his chest when she insisted that they keep going, when she’d laid back against his sheets and told him she needed him.
He’d hoped she would’ve felt some of the happiness he had, when she awoke the following morning; he’d hoped that he’d be able to make her breakfast, and then the two of them could talk and he could apologize for every stupid thing he’d done over the last two years. Maybe she would’ve forgiven him. But he’d gone and fucked that all up.
Because when he awoke, all that was left of her was her blood on his sheets.
-----
(Y/N’s POV)
Y/N watched her friends sprint into the shallow of the turquoise lake with a small bit of envy. She wanted, so very badly, to join them, but she’d miscalculated the coverage that her swimsuit afforded her, and to her horror, she’d realized that the mark Douma’d left on her would be on full display the moment she removed the oversized button-down she’d used as a cover-up.
“Y/N! C’mon!” Mitsuri entreated her as her head popped back up from under the surface of the water, her hair tinged a dark pink from the water.
Absentmindedly, her hand raised to the spot where Douma had soiled her and rubbed, the slight pain from her stimulation of the still-healing wound forcing her to remain in the present instead of back in that blasted, dark bedroom.
“I think I’ll work on my tan for now!” Y/N called back, plastering a wide, fake smile on her face to assuage any worry. Not that she needed to, because before Mitsuri could question her further, Obanai snuck up from beneath her and raised her out of the water on his shoulders, the pinkette laugh-screaming as she flailed about to keep herself upright.
A crunch of gravel next to her caused her to tense, because she knew that all of her other friends were accounted for, splashing about in the serene crystal of the lake.
All of them, except for him.
Sanemi said nothing to her as he drew up next to her, though he maintained a respectful distance. He too, watched their friends laugh and play in the water for a moment, his hands shoved in the pockets of his red swim trunks.
Y/N tried to be sneaky as she allowed her eyes to roam the sculpted plains of his exposed torso, marveling at the muscle that seemed to be carved from stone. Since the summer, he’d gained a bit of a tan, his skin now a lustrous nutty gold, that, against the white blonde of his hair, created an attractive contrast that made her mouth water.
God, he was beautiful; it pissed her off.
The tension between them was electric, as neither wanted to be the first to break the silence growing ever louder between them.
“No one will stare, y’know,” Sanemi caved first, though he did not tear his eyes away from where they were fixed resolutely on the horizon beyond the lake. “They all want you to feel comfortable, so they won’t look.”
Y/N was about to snippily ask him why he was butting in on her business, even though her irritation was because he’d read her mood so easily – too damn easily, for that matter. She tilted her head up, readying her venom, but before she could bite, the words died on her tongue.
Sanemi’s tan hadn’t been able to obscure the scars of varying lengths and thickness which crossed his chest, forearms, and half of his face; if anything, his sun-kissed skin only made the silvery, jagged slashes stand out.
As she’d looked up at her former friend, she was reminded that he knew exactly how she felt at that moment – had felt that insecurity, every day, since they were eleven and a drunk driver had slammed into his parent’s station wagon, killing everyone but him and Genya.
I don’t care if you have scars! She’d told him, once. I’ve always thought you were…were..pretty!
She winced at the memory, but painful and intrusive though it was, she still couldn’t find it within her to throw his attempt at reassurance back in his face. Y/N’s heart might have been a lowly, misshapen, shriveled lump, but she still had one.
And besides, she wouldn’t lie to herself; his words had soothed some of her anxieties, damn him.
“Thanks,” she said softly, and she gave him a small, tentative half-smile. She hated the look of hope that flickered to life in his eyes at the sight.
She hated the guilt that sunk into her gut even more.
-----
It was late and she was restless.
Most of the house had already retired for the night; Tengen had disappeared with his three girls, and Obanai and Mitsuri had snuck away back to her guest room, giggling softly, as the pair had been unable to keep their wandering, eager hands to themselves.
Y/N stayed up a little longer with Kyojuro, laughing and talking about everything and nothing as Sanemi lingered awkwardly by the shore of the sprawling lake that sat before the Uzui family’s handsome summer home. By the time Kyojuro had yawned, the moon hung high in the sky, and even the chirping night cicadas had long fallen silent.
She’d hoped that returning to her own guest room – located on second floor of the Uzui home – would trick her brain into thinking she too, was tired; but hours later, she’d realized, grimly, that she’d not be enjoying such luck.
And so, she’d found herself braced over the pristine kitchen sink in the Uzuis’ kitchen, unable to shake the incessant nag of sleeplessness that prickled under her skin.She’d thought herself alone, until a noise over by the entryway caught her attention, her eyes flashing over to see who’d joined her in her restlessness.
Y/N’s stomach roiled at the sight of Sanemi standing there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, as though he too, would rather be anywhere but there at that moment.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Y/N shook her head, busying herself with dumping out her water glass and rinsing it out. “Neither could I, I guess.” An awkward pause ensued, only disrupted by the squeak of the faucet as Y/N wrenched it off to towel off her drinking glass.
“I tried calling you – last week,” Sanemi said carefully, leaning against the door jam, his arms folding loosely across his chest. “But I never got an answer.”
Y/N chewed on her lip, wincing slightly. She didn't want to admit that she hadn’t really returned anyone’s calls, but that was because she’d spent the majority of the week hunched over her toilet, alternating between dripping with sweat and half-freezing to death as she weathered through the brutal withdrawal from Wisteria.
She wasn’t ashamed per se – but admitting she’d gone through withdrawal meant admitting that she’d become reliant enough on it to have a physical reaction to cutting herself off from it, and that meant admitting she was weak.
“I was…dealing with a lot,” she decided after a moment. She realized that she was oddly grateful that Douma’s assault on her had been the catalyst for her stopping her Wisteria misuse, given that it gave her away around talking about the pitiful way she’d spent the last seven days.
Besides, it wasn’t like it was a lie; between puking her guts out, she’d spent a lot of time replaying the events that had led her to Douma’s bedroom, terrified and crying.
“A-and are you – you okay?” He stuttered, fidgeting with the drawstring of his sleep pants, twisting it nervously around his finger.
Y/N exhaled but gave him a half-smile that was almost genuine. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
Sanemi continued to shift nervously in the door, as though he wanted to ask her something else, but was warring with whether he should.
Ultimately, he decided to risk it. “Did he -“ Sanemi’s eyes screwed shut, and when he opened them again, he was fixed on a point over her shoulder, as though the question on his tongue was too much for him to risk meeting her eyes.
“Did he… hurt you,” Sanemi hesitated, his voice quieting to a whisper so soft, Y/N had to strain to hear it. “In a way I can’t see?”
Y/N’s eyes widened, her gaze softening as the weight of his question settled. “No, Sanemi, he didn’t. I promise.”
Her hand jumped absentmindedly to the faded mark where Douma had bit her and rubbed. “He wanted to, that much was clear, but Hakuji…Hakuji came just in time.”
Sanemi’s shoulders curled inward as he relaxed, and to Y/N’s heartache, she saw him nearly shaking under the weight of his unshed tears. “I’m sorry — I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”
Y/N’s eyes hardened, and she let out a sardonic laugh. “That’s what you’re sorry for?”
She shook her head. “Why in the world would you have expected to have been there, Sanemi? You weren’t there any other time I needed you.”
“That’s not-“
“Too bad that’s the only thing you’re apologizing for,” Y/N sighed. “If only you would be sorry for the pain you’ve caused me, not for someone else hurting me.”
Sanemi’s gaze was hard, if not a little weary as he considered her words. “Okay Y/N, you’re right. It’s past time for us to do this,” he walked to the door that led out to the patio area, a little away from the house. He looked back to her, and in response to the eyebrow she had raised in question, he exhaled. “We’ve gotta have it out.”
Y/N did not move from her spot, standing with her back to the stovetop burners, merely crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him, her hip jutting out. “I’m not going anywhere. If you want to do this, we can do it right here.”
“Fine,” Sanemi bit, voice stony as he folded his arms across his chest, matching her stance. “Then go ahead.”
Y/N merely raised an eyebrow at him, keeping her mouth clamped tightly shut. She refused to let him order her around, to let him goad her into being vulnerable after two years of nothing from him.
Sanemi watched her expectantly for a moment before sighing. “I guess I’ll start,” and he rubbed at his tired eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me it was your first time? That night?”
To Y/N’s shock, Sanemi looked genuinely upset, and she despised the way it made her ache. For all her attempts to keep him forever at arm’s length despite her need for him, the first sign of his pain was enough to make her want to fall to her knees.
But she kept her face neutral, disinterested. “Why does it matter?”
“Because I-,” Sanemi hesitated, his fingers curling against his palms, hands forming fists. “You should’ve told me.”
This conversation was nearly impossible to have sober, and for a brief moment, Y/N craved the sweet oblivion of flashing neon lights and pounding music and purple pills.
“It was none of your business,” Y/N decided, fingers toying with the ends of her hair as she avoided his gaze. “It was my decision.”
Sanemi opened his mouth as though to argue with her, but she cut him off. “God, this is so like you, isn’t it?”
Her fists clenched, and the anger she’d so carefully kept tucked away inside her began to bubble over. “Is it some weird male possessive thing? You fucked me, so now you think you have some kind of claim to me?”
“I care about you, you idiot, and I thought I’d hurt you,” Sanemi replied hotly. “If I’d’ve known, I wouldn’t have done it at all.”
“It’s not about you caring for me,” Y/N snapped. “Admit it — you feel entitled to me.” You’ve always felt entitled to my affections, ever since we were kids.”
Her leg began to bounce with her irritation. “You’d get huffy if I showed the slightest bit of affection to any other boy — don’t try to deny it. You’d cross your arms and get all broody and it fooled no one.”
Y/N laughed, though it was without humor. “You’re a possessive, jealous asshole, who keeps me around because I stoke your ego. You can’t tell me you never thought, not even once, that I had feelings for you.” Y/N’s eyes burned with angry tears.
“Of course I thought it,” Sanemi shot back. “You think I was that fucking blind?” He cracked his knuckles, an anxious tic he’d had since they were small. “You think I didn’t see the way you looked at me, like I was your goddamn favorite person? How could I ignore that?”
Sanemi shook his head. “Did you ever stop to think, for one moment, that maybe I didn’t say shit because I knew — have always known — that I’m not fuckin’ good enough for you? You’ve always been the smartest out of the three of us, Y/N — but did that thought ever cross that pretty head of yours?”
“That’s such a bullshit fucking reason,” Y/N said, exasperated. “Spare me the ‘I’m not good enough for you’ crap, Sanemi. This isn’t a fucking novel,” Y/N ground her toe into the expensive, stone tile of the Uzui’s kitchen floor in frustration. “Because for all your talk, nothing changes the very simple fact that you cut me off like it was fucking nothing. Like I was nothing.”
Sanemi’s jaw went slack as he gaped at her. “Is that how you remember it?”
-----
“Though, I guess it would’ve been hard to know it was you, anyways.”
-----
(Nine Months Earlier)
As he lazily strolled to his next class, Sanemi’s eyes casually roamed amongst the faces of fellow students as they brushed by him, heading in the opposite direction, when something caught his attention. Or rather, someone.
That someone was a wisp of a person, hunched over and curled into themselves like a wounded animal. From the cursory glance he gave them, Sanemi could see that the student was one, a girl, around his age, and two, looked as though she was about to blow away in the brisk, November wind.
He almost passed her without another thought, when her eyes lifted briefly and collided with his, and Sanemi felt his stomach drop, though he couldn’t explain why. Perhaps the flip in his gut had to do with the deep-set shadows beneath the girl’s glassy eyes, or the heavy hollow of her cheeks, as if she’d not known rest or a decent meal for months.
As quickly as her eyes met his, they lowered again, and the girl brushed past him. Sanemi kept walking for a few steps, content to let all memory of the girl fall into the recesses of his mind.
But her eyes. Something about her eyes made his mind snag, pulled at something in his chest that urged him to stop, turn around, and go back to her.
He stopped; he stopped, in the middle of the crosswalk, though the light was quickly ticking down the seconds he had to finish crossing the busy intersection, because he knew those eyes, even if, to his horror, he hadn’t recognized the face, so worn and thin under the crushing weight of her grief.
He knew those eyes, because he’d spent his entire life loving them.
Sanemi whipped around, eyes frantically scanning the dissipating crowd of students in search of her once more. Though his next class was in the opposite direction, he sprinted back across the street to where she’d been walking, calling her name as he darted in and around scowling students, annoyed at the panic-stricken man calling a name that wasn’t theirs.
He felt the burn of his frustrated and desperate tears begin to sting his eyes as he realized, to his torment, that Y/N had evaded him once more, vanishing like smoke in the wind.
Sanemi felt the familiar howl of crippling, raging despair gathering like a violent sea wave in the midst of a storm within him rearing its ugly head to smash him to bits against the rocky shore of his anguish at the realization that Y/N hadn’t just lost her mother.
She’d been suffering. For months.
And he hadn’t known; hadn’t been there for her to lean on, to make sure that she wasn’t bearing the entirety of the weight of a sick parent by herself, only a nineteen-year-old girl. So stuck in his own grief over Genya he’d been that he hadn’t known the depths of Y/N’s endless distress.
He’d abandoned her, and now, the woman he loved was a shell of her former self; a living ghost, forever out of his reach despite always haunting the corners of his shredded heart.
Any thought of his upcoming class faded from his mind as he began to stumble towards Kyojuro’s apartment, desperate to share the news with someone, anyone, who would understand the depth of his despair, and Sanemi broke down into tears.
-----
“And where have you been hidin’ all this time?”
“I’ve been right here.”
“Nah, you haven’t.”
-----
(Six Months Earlier)
“It’s been months, Sanemi, and we haven’t caught so much as a whisper of her,” Kyojuro’s voice was heavy with resignation as the blonde looked pleadingly at his best friend.
The muscles in Sanemi’s forearms flexed as his grip on his phone tightened while he fiddled with it. “We haven’t looked everywhere – have we tried the Pillars?” Sanemi began searching the address for the nearby apartment complex where over two-thirds of the Ubaya-U upperclassmen student body resided.
Kyojuro shook his head. “The Pillars house over two thousand units – we can’t just start going door to door. We’d look insane.”
But the silver-haired man didn’t reply as his eyes narrowed at his screen. “I’ll bet most of the students are in the same building – most residents don’t wanna put up with a bunch of noisy, drunk college kids.”
Kyojuro only looked at his friend in pity. “Maybe she doesn’t want to be found, Sanemi. Not by us, at least.”
Sanemi finally looked up from his screen and cringed at the docility in his friend’s eyes. “What do you suggest we do, Kyo?” He tossed his phone on his kitchen table in annoyance. “Just give up? D’you really think it’s best to just leave her by herself?”
“You don’t know for certain whether she is alone, though,” Kyojuro countered. “She might’ve found her own group here. Maybe she already has support. Maybe she doesn’t need us anymore.”
Kyojuro’s words hit something soft within him that he hadn’t realized had been left unguarded. For deep down, one of Sanemi’s many fears had always been that Y/N would one day outgrow him, though he’d always maintained that he wouldn’t hold her back should the day come.
But that wasn’t what happened; Sanemi had checked out after Genya’s death, and had only snapped back into reality a few weeks before the news of Mrs. Y/L/N’s passing had reached his ears, threatening to send him back to that dark, lonely island amidst the never-ending sea of his grief.
All he wanted was to make sure Y/N hadn’t been marooned on her own isle. As long as she had someone, then Sanemi could accept that he’d fucked over any chance he’d had of remaining in her life, in any capacity.
But until then…
“We don’t know for sure,” Sanemi said hoarsely, leaning back in his kitchen chair, the worn wood creaking slightly under his weight. “And until we do, I ain’t risking her being left alone to deal with this.”
Kyojuro looked at him with such pity and sorrow that it made him want to squirm. Refusing to meet his friend’s fiery, discerning gaze, Sanemi reached to pluck his phone from the table once more, scrolling through his phone contacts list, scanning the names.
“D’you think she might still be in contact with her old roommate?” He asked though it was more of a rhetorical question, given that he’d already begun drafting a message. “I’ve gotta catch my train here in an hour – but we could always try texting her.”
-----
“D’you really think I didn’t try to find you?”
-----
(Three Months Earlier)
“Three – you’re dating three women?” Sanemi asked, equal parts stunned and impressed.
The suave, silver-haired man nodded, a dreamy grin spreading wide across his handsome face. “Sure am,” Tengen produced a sleek black phone from the pocket of his joggers, and opened his social media profile to search a username. “Suma, Makio, and Hinatsuru. They’re all seniors at Ubaya-U, and roommates.” Tengen wiggled his eyebrows. “Which makes life very convenient for me,”
Sanemi met Kyojuro’s ochre stare as Tengen scrolled, as though waiting for his friend to call bullshit on the young detective’s brag, but the blonde only nodded.
“Hold on, they all went out with a few friends the other night, and I think Suma uploaded a pic with all of ‘em,” Tengen’s eyes narrowed in on what Sanemi assumed was the girl’s profile, scanning. “Aha! Here,” he held his phone out for the two boys to inspect, a proud, smug smile etched into his handsome face.
The photo was of five girls, three of whom Tengen identified as “his girls.” One of the remaining smiles was that which belonged to a girl with curious pink and green hair, wearing what could only be described as rave attire, given that most of her considerable body was exposed, even under the dim light of the club. As for the remaining girl --.
Sanemi’s stomach dropped as he looked closer at the image on Tengen’s phone. For there, sandwiched between the pink girl and one of Tengen’s partners, was the girl who’d held Sanemi’s heart since the day they’d met in preschool.
Y/N.
Only, she didn’t look like herself, not really. The sultry smile she gave the camera didn’t quite reach her eyes, which held that hollow, deadened look of someone who’d long since lost their will to live; who’d long since stopped caring they had.
Sanemi was only able to tear his eyes away from the image of Y/N’s frozen not-smile when Kyojuro pressed his elbow into his gut. He looked back to Tengen, who watched him with an odd expression, and sheepishly, Sanemi realized he’d snatched the phone right from the young detective’s hand.
“Sorry,” he muttered, handing Tengen back his cell. “I’m just surprised. It’s been a minute since we last saw her.”
“Who?” Tengen frowned, looking back at the photo, before recognition lit his eyes. “Oh! You mean Y/L/N? You two know her?”
Sanemi found it difficult to speak, so Kyojuro answered for him. “We grew up together back home. We haven’t really seen or heard from her in a while,”
Tengen hummed disinterestedly, apparently aloof to the way Kyo’s voice had cracked. “I’ve met her a few times – Suma dotes on her.” He smiled as he clicked off his phone, leaning back in the booth. “She’s been over to the girls’ place a few times before, and she seems pretty cool; kind of a party girl, though.”
Sanemi gaped at him, finally finding his voice. “She’s a what?”
Tengen shrugged. “Yeah, one time I met up with their friend group at one of the clubs downtown – the Kizuki Lounge, I think? – anyways, she and Makio decided to have a drink-off, and it ended with my ass having to carry them both out to the car and drive ‘em home.” He chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. “They argued the whole drive back about who won.”
Both Kyojuro and Sanemi sat in dumb silence as the silver-haired man leaned in, his voice lower than it had been. “One of their friends – she wasn’t in that picture just now – but apparently she’s some sort of chemistry whiz. Made a new drug that’s like ecstasy, but lasts longer and has an easier come down.” A conspiratorial smile spread across his face, a devious light in his eyes as he whispered, “The girls swear it helped give them the most intense orgasms of their life. I kinda wanna try it out for myself.”
Tengen leaned back and winked. “Are either of you interested? Even if you don’t want it, you should try hitting up the Kizuki every now and again. Most of Ubaya-U’s student body goes to party there during the summer, and they tend to offer decent deals on drinks.”
Sanemi had frequented bars, but never clubs, and Kyojuro rarely found himself in either. However, if Tengen’s comments about Y/N were to be believed, it was more than likely she was a regular patron of the local joint. She’d managed to evade every other attempt to get in touch with her, but perhaps meeting her on her turf would give him the opening he’d been desperately holding out for.
And Sanemi wasn’t about to waste the opportunity to find out.
He took a swig of his coffee before setting it down, meeting Tengen’s stare evenly, though he fought to conceal the way his hands trembled. “What are you doing this Friday?”
-----
“I looked for you – everywhere, I looked for you.” Sanemi promised, his voice trembling as he pled with her. “Y/N, I knew what you were going through – I know what it’s like --,” his eyes begged her to just listen, but she couldn’t, not when she’d spent so long staying so silent.
“You have no idea!” Y/N burst, and for the first time in two years, she spoke of the night her world had ended, even though for everyone else, it kept spinning.
“I was alone when she died! It was just me in that hospital room,” Her tears flowed in a steady stream down her face, though her voice remained steady and sharp. “I was moving her hand over my hair because I knew I would never again get to feel her stroke my head whenever I was sad or stressed. It was so fucking late, and I was so tired, but I felt something shift, and I looked at her and watched her take her last fucking breath, Sanemi!”
Y/N ‘s hands wrung in her grief. “I had to call the nursing attendant and tell them – even though I could barely speak, I had to tell them my Mama stopped breathing.” As she spoke, she saw only the image of her mother in that damn bed, still and pale, and her mother but no longer.
“And do you know what happened next? They told me I needed to leave and sign fucking paperwork,” She laughed, derisively, though she only cried harder. “I had to sign fucking release forms and then they just – told me goodnight. I walked to my car. Alone. I drove home. Alone. Without her.”
“I was with you when you found out about Genya – we made sure you weren’t alone! But me? Who was there for me?” Y/N was sobbing into her hands, her shoulders shaking with the weight of all the bitter loneliness she’d been forced to endure over the last two years. “Where were you?”
“Y/N, I get it, I do –,” Sanemi began but Y/N shook her head.
“No, Sanemi, you don’t understand!” Her voice was no longer angry, but pleading, begging him – anyone – to understand just how much she’d been struggling and for how long. “Every night when I close my eyes, I see her, lying there. I hear the beep of her oxygen monitor going haywire because she wasn’t breathing, and I see her take her final breath. Every night, over and over, and I just want it to stop.”
Y/N slumped back against the kitchen counter, exhausted and defeated. “You asked me where I’ve been the last two years, and you were right – I haven’t been here; because I’m still there –in that hospital room. I never left.”
Her sobs finally quieted beneath the press of her hand to her mouth as she tried to stifle the hysterical way her breath struggled to catch. “And I don’t think I will ever leave. It’s been two years, Sanemi, and I’m still sitting there, right where I lost everything.”
“So yeah, I was desperate for an escape. Because, that next day, I woke up, and for some reason, morning, still came, even though my Mom would never again see another sunrise, and even though my world had been obliterated,” Y/N’s voice quieted to a near whisper, her voice hoarse from her tears. “And everybody else just moved on. I wanted to pretend that I had, too, even if only for a little while.”
“I was alone,” Y/N cried softly into her hands. “I’m still alone.”
When Sanemi spoke, his voice was rough and cracked. “I know I left you alone then,” but for some reason, his validation didn’t soothe her the way it had with Kyojuro. “But you’re not alone now – I tried, so hard, Y/N, to find you and make sure you were okay, and I failed,” His eyes shone with his own unshed tears. “I refuse to leave you alone, now. I know that probably pisses you off, but I can’t – I can’t leave you, not when I know --,”
“It’s too late,” Y/N interjected, lifting her head up to meet his eyes. “You can’t just waltz back into my life and decide you care now, not after all this time.”
“It was never about me not caring,” Sanemi sat down in the seat opposite from her, his head braced between his hands as his fingers tugged at his hair in frustration. “I don’t get why you can’t understand that.”
She gaped at him. “You stopped talking to me because I said I was in love with you – I fully understand that it was piss-poor fucking timing on my part, but you tossed me aside like garbage.”
Sanemi’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “You think that’s why I stopped talking to you?” And suddenly, devastation pulled at his face as his shoulders sagged. “Y/N – that was never the reason --,”
“What other reason was there, Sanemi?” Her tears had dried, but the gnawing ache in her chest only deepened at the look of his despair, because, angry as she was with him, she would never wish him to be in as much pain as he appeared to be in right then. “Even if you weren’t really that angry, it doesn’t change the fact that you stopped speaking to me because of it,”
“Y/N – that’s not –,” Sanemi began, but Y/N wanted no part of it, and she could tell they were only gearing up for another fight. She opened her mouth, ready to unleash all of her acidic, biting remarks about how comfortable Sanemi had been to use her, knowing that she was probably still in love with him, when he spoke once more.
“You aren’t the only one who has been grieving.” Sanemi’s words hit her with a force that knocked the breath from her lungs, and the fight from her blood.
“I lost the last person I could call ‘family,’ too, Y/N.” Sanemi spoke with a brokenness that she knew only she recognized as grief – boundless and all-consuming. “I failed as your friend, that’s true,” Sanemi’s voice quieted to a whisper. “But I failed as a brother, first.”
-----
(November, 2 months after Genya’s death)
Sanemi laughed as the enraged bar patron’s fist slammed into his nose. The blow wasn’t hard enough to break the bone, given his intoxication, but it was enough for Sanemi to taste the blood as it dripped into his mouth.
“You’re fucking crazy,” the man spat, stumbling slightly.
Sanemi’s grin only widened. “I bet your wife would like some crazy in her life. You look as dull as a sack of shi-,” his taunt was cut off as the man landed another sharp to his gut, the breath wheezing out of him as Sanemi felt something inside him crack.
Probably another rib, he groused, gritting his teeth slightly. Just down the darkened alley, Sanemi could see people slowing down, watching as the balding drunkard threw lazy and disjointed punches at the bloodied, laughing man, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the cops were called. And Sanemi, to his annoyance, had promised Kyojuro he would try to stop needing the blonde to bail his ass out of jail every other week. He hadn’t known why he’d made such an inane promise to his best friend in the first place; it wasn’t as if he mattered.
Because the days following Genya’s death had blurred into weeks, which bled into months. For Sanemi, life became marked by the amount of time that had passed since he’d become the only Shinazugawa left on earth.
Since he’d last been someone’s brother.
Two days. Twenty-three. A month. Four months. Nine. A year.
Life post-Genya was a series of blurs; droplets of water on a page that smeared ink into something vaguely recognizable, but ultimately rendered useless.
Just like him.
For so long, his identity had revolved around being Genya’s big brother — his Aniki, as the boy had affectionately called him.
Could one still be an older sibling when they had no sibling left?
Genya had been Sanemi’s pride and joy. He’d been eager to get settled into college, to get his own place so Genya wouldn’t have to share a bunk bed with other kids the state had squeezed into their foster home. He’d lined up jobs to ensure he could buy Genya whatever food he wanted, whenever he wanted it, because Genya was always hungry, and their foster parents had never seemed to have enough to go around.
But then, Genya had wound up dead, and Sanemi hadn’t even been there to protect him. What kind of big brother was he, if he couldn’t even be counted on to be there when his little brother needed him the most?
He didn’t even get to say goodbye. He’d left his brother only a couple of weeks prior, with a promise to come and visit him as soon as he could. Genya had tried his hardest to stifle his tears, but despite his brother’s somewhat hardened appearance, thanks to the scar that cut across his face, Sanemi knew Genya was a sensitive boy, prone to wearing his heart on his sleeve. So the elder Shinazugawa had pulled his brother in tight, ruffled his hair, and told him he’d see him soon.
It had been a lie; the next time Sanemi saw Genya, the fourteen-year-old was a body on a metal table, awaiting Sanemi’s approval to be sent to a funeral home for burial preparations.
And so, the days passed in one, monotonous, never-ending cycle. Wake up; stare at the ceiling; force himself to eat, shower, and go to class. Then, Sanemi would grab his fake ID, head to a bar, take a few shots of some burning, acidic liquid, and then identify the meanest, biggest thug in the joint and pick a fight. He’d let himself get beaten to a bloody pulp and then he’d limp his way home, barely making it to his bed before passing out in the sweet stupefaction of oblivion.
Occasionally, he’d wonder why on earth he was the one who was left alive; why fate had demanded Genya’s life and not his, because Genya had so much more to offer the world than he did.
After all, Genya hadn’t even picked the fight between the two boys from their old foster home, and he’d still ended up dead.
The time never seemed to stop even though his little brother’s heart had; and with each passing day, Sanemi felt himself growing number and number. As the pulsing ache between Sanemi’s ribs dulled, he mused that, with every moment that passed, he was growing closer to becoming just like the little brother who now slept six feet under the frozen ground of the cemetery plot that also now housed their parents and other siblings.
Nothing more than a corpse.
If only it had been him.
It should have been him.
-----
“After Genya died I —,” Sanemi hesitated. “I wasn’t a good person, Y/N. You didn’t need to see me like that.” He ran a hand down his face, his weariness a heavy shadow beneath his eyes. “I’m honestly surprised Kyo stuck through it as long as he did.”
“I fucked up, I know that.” He admitted, his eyes shining with his own unshed tears. “I was an asshole to you, and I could’ve done more,”
Sanemi’s voice dropped to a whisper. “But I needed you, too. And you vanished. You told me you loved me and then you vanished. And it was like losing another person I loved all over again, and I’d barely started mourning Genya.”
Y/N felt her stomach drop to the floor and her vision tunnel. The weight of Sanemi’s words slammed into her with cataclysmic force, and she shot out a steadying hand against the counter to keep her knees from buckling.
She remembered now, the point at which she’d fucked it all up; and he was right.
Y/N had felt abandoned by her friends, but she’d forgotten that it was she who distanced herself from Sanemi first; that she’d done so to protect her own stupid pride and heartache after his apparent rejection of her love. She’d evaded him first, because she’d assumed that was what he wanted, even though he’d tried texting her once. She’d neglected to consider that perhaps, his ignorance of her hadn’t anything to do with his anger that she’d dared to confess; that perhaps, his neglect of her had been part of a general disconnect from the world, in the wake of it taking yet another person he loved away.
At the time, Y/N hadn’t understood what it meant to grieve; hadn’t been able to comprehend the ways in which it could engulf someone like a wildfire before they could ever see the smoke.
He’s dealing with a lot right now, Kyojuro had told her, sternly. But perhaps Kyojuro’s admonition hadn’t been that at all; perhaps it had been a tired, desperate effort to remind her that Sanemi’s introversion from the world had nothing to do with her at all.
“I’m sorry,” Y/N gasped, her hands shaking. “I didn’t realize – I just knew I felt alone. All I wanted was you, Sanemi. I didn’t care how. I just wanted my friend.” This time, Y/N did not try and steady her voice as the tears welled up in her eyes. “I needed you — I needed my ‘Nemi. But you weren’t there – I-I didn’t think-,”
“I promise you, I wanted to make it right. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did at the train station,” Sanemi gave a great sniff, lifting his head to meet her eyes. “When I snapped out of it, I tried so hard to find you by then, it was too late; you were gone,” His tears fell fast and hot down his face. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N.”
“I failed you; I know that --,”
But the girl shook her head, collapsing back against the kitchen counter. “We failed each other.” She wiped her cheeks, her arms winding tight around her middle as she tried to hold herself together even though the weight of the words that followed threatened to tear her apart at the seam for good. “And I don’t know how to fix this – how to fix us.”
Sanemi leaned back against the table, opposite her. “Maybe we can’t…maybe we can never go back to the way things were.”
Even as he said it, Y/N’s heart seized. She knew he was right, but she wanted so very badly to believe he was wrong; wanted to believe there was still a them to salvage.
“That doesn’t change how I feel about us,” Sanemi continued. “And that doesn’t mean we can't try to make something new.”
His words, so brutally honest and yet hopeful, tugged at the bleeding, mangled pieces of her heart. For the first time since they’d reunited, Y/N felt as though she could finally see him – all of him – and he broke her heart, and not for the reasons she thought he had before. The remnants of her heart ached for him because he looked just as broken and lost as she was, and she realized that perhaps, they hadn’t meant to hurt one another. Perhaps, they’d both been merely victims of their own grief.
All Y/N knew was that she was tired, so very tired of running from him, especially when he’d always been inevitable. And she wanted, more than anything, to ease some of the burden that she’d failed to notice he’d been struggling to carry, too consumed by her own grief and pain and rage.
Sanemi’s stare was weary as she slid off the counter and approached him timidly, hesitating just once before winding her arms around his neck and kissing him, gently.
She kissed him because she did not know what else she could do at that moment. There were no words she could say, no promises she could offer him, other than this small act of physical comfort.
Sanemi kissed her back, soft, though the hand on her face felt more like an effort to restrain himself from going any further. Y/N’s suspicions were confirmed when he broke away from her lips, panting slightly, and moved when she tried to reconnect them.
He pressed his forehead against hers. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he murmured, apologetically. “We’re both all worked up.”
Y/N opened her eyes and peered up at him, nodding. He was right; of course, he was right, but his rejection stung anyways.
He must have sensed it, for he pressed his lips tightly against her forehead, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Let’s just take some time, okay?”
Her lips trembled with the effort to keep herself from crying once more, but she nodded, nonetheless. Briefly, Sanemi’s lips brushed her forehead once more, before he pulled away, and silently retreated to his bedroom, leaving Y/N in the dim light of the kitchen.
-----
The next day and a half passed without event, and Y/N was grateful for it. She’d managed to smile and laugh with Mitsuri and Kyojuro, and goofed around with Tengen’s beautiful girlfriends, but her heart remained heavy in her chest.
Though, it wasn’t an unwelcome weight, even if it made her uncomfortable at times. The fallout from hers and Sanemi’s talk two nights earlier had been both the final knife to her blackening heart and its bandage, and she’d been left to work through the complex tapestry of her feelings towards the man who’d held her heart before she’d even known she’d given it to him.
Such thoughts, however, had not quieted. It was just after midnight when Y/N gave up on trying to sleep. The house was too large and too quiet, and it made the thoughts in her head all the louder and sleep all the more evasive.
With a sigh, she kicked free of her blankets and rose, padding out of her temporary bedroom and into the dark, silent hall of the Uzui lake house. Trust that Tengen, of all people, would come from a family that not only had a summer house, but one large enough that each of her friends had been afforded their own private bedroom for their short weekend.
Clad in only a pair of black boy-shorts and a matching, cropped tank, Y/N clandestinely made her way down towards the large staircase which led to the first floor, but paused before beginning her descent, as she remembered that Sanemi’s room was on the first floor – just before the kitchen.
He’d wanted space, and she’d given it to him. Over the last two days, the pair hardly spoke to one another except for, when necessary, by virtue of the group’s activities under the sun. It hadn’t been out of any malice or anger, not like before. Rather, it seemed that their mutual avoidance of one another had been born out of a curious shyness that had bloomed between them, as both worked through the snarled tangles of their hearts.
If she went to the kitchen, as planned, there was a chance she’d wake him, and even if every fiber of her body missed him, the last thing she wanted was to be the cause of his loss of sleep – at least, more so than she’d apparently already had been.
On the other hand, she was thirsty, and there was a restlessness buzzing beneath her skin that would not quiet, that hadn’t quieted since she’d given up those treacherous lilac pills.
Y/N decided to take her chances, resolving not to turn on any of the stair lights or the light in the kitchen, instead navigating only by the dim light of her phone as she eased her way down the polished wood stairs. She held her breath as she slipped past the door that led to Sanemi’s room, as though the very sound would risk disturbing the handsome man slumbering within.
Once in the kitchen, Y/N blindly felt around for the cupboard containing sparkling glasses and managed to fill one with water without making a great deal of sound. Using the light of her phone screen, she managed to hop up onto the cool, marbled countertop and leaned back against the cabinets as she nursed her drink.
For the last two nights, sleep had evaded Y/N because of the way Sanemi’s words had played, over and over her head, a never-ending tape that showcased her own selfishness on a loop.
You aren’t the only one who has been grieving, he’d told her, brokenly.
He was right, and she was horrible.
For as long as she could remember, Y/N had always feared being selfish. She didn’t know where the deep-seated aversion to looking after he own self-interest had come from, but it was one that was so deeply ingrained within her that she’d long since stopped trying to overcome it. Instead, she’d found herself always trying to do the best for other people, desperately trying not to put herself over her loved ones, for fear they would leave her the instant she did.
When she’d found out her mother was going to die, she’d been left by the doctor to break the devastating news as her beloved mother lay in that hospital bed, fighting so hard to keep her oxygen levels up so that she could get out. Her mother had been asking Y/N to describe all of the autumnal decorations she’d seen go up in town, as though the prospect of seeing fake leaf garlands and pumpkins would be enough to make her lungs work properly once more.
For as long as she lived, she would never forget the broken disbelief in her mother’s eyes as Y/N had tearfully told her she would not live to see the end of the week.
“I thought I had more time,” her mother had wheezed, brokenly, clasping Y/N’s hand as tightly as she could with her dwindling strength.
She’d looked so scared, so lost, and what had Y/N done?
Y/N had cried; sobbed and had been utterly unable to stop. Her mother had needed comfort, and she hadn’t been able to toughen up and stop crying.
I’m sorry, Mama, she’d bawled, I can’t stop crying, I’m so sorry.
Her mother, with tears in her own eyes, had only shaken her head. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
As though it were her fault she was dying; as though Y/N didn’t know that if death were a matter of will, her mother would be here, on earth, with her still.
In her mother’s most desperate moment, Y/N had been utterly incapable of providing comfort, instead needing to be comforted, like the child she’d been. It was despicable; she was despicable.
To her horror, she’d been nothing but selfish. So, so very selfish, for being unable to check her emotions when it mattered most. And her mother had barely been conscious after that final conversation, which meant Y/N hadn’t been able to apologize for making her mother comfort her in her hour of greatest need. But Y/N had added that great regret to the list of things that would likely haunt her for the rest of her life, hopeful that maybe its presence on her list of regret would serve as a warning for her in the future.
It hadn’t; because Y/N had fallen right back into the sticky trap of her own selfishness and had failed to account for all the ways in which Sanemi had been suffering, right alongside her.
Worse, she’d relished his suffering because she’d thought she’d been the cause of it, and it had felt so damn good to finally get him back for the two years of hell she’d endured, never realizing that he’d been burning, too.
They’d been victims of a shitty hand dealt to them both, but too young and too stupid to be able to see the world outside of their own heads. And now, she had no idea where things stood between them.
Deep in thought, Y/N did not sense the shift in the air that signaled another was stirring until the kitchen light flipped on, and Y/N’s head shot up to see the person she’d most wanted to both see and avoid.
Sanemi looked just as surprised to see her, perched on the kitchen counter. His hand still lingered on the light switch, and his eyes were wide. He seemed to realize he’d been staring, and he quickly looked down to his feet, the faintest trace of red crossing his cheeks.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Y/N huffed a watery chuckle, wiping quickly at the tears that clung to her cheeks. “Neither could I – just a little restless, I guess.”
There was so much she wanted to say, and yet, she couldn’t think of a single word to speak, as he continued to hover by the light switch, uncertainty turning his muscles rigid. An awkward silence ensued as Y/N gave a great sniff and tried, but failed, to fake an ‘everything is fine’ smile.
Not that she would’ve been able to fool him anyway, but still, she mused, it would’ve been nice to try.
“I’m sorry – I’ll go back to my room,” She put her water glass down by her side and braced her hands against the edge of the counter to hop down, but remembered that she was still only in her underwear. It was foolish, she knew, to feel suddenly self-conscious being so exposed in front of him, given that Sanemi had spent the entire summer exploring every nook and cranny of her body with his mouth and hands, but the emotions of the weekend still weighed heavily on her – made her feel vulnerable.
Especially under the microscope of his burning stare.
Sanemi didn’t respond, nor did he comment on her failure to move off the counter. Instead, he only continued to watch her as she wiped at her cheeks, that fathomless heat and longing and hurt in his stare.
“I’ve always hated seeing you cry,” he finally murmured, and Y/N was surprised to see that he had inched closer to where she sat, perched on the kitchen counter.
A door was opening, and Y/N found herself wondering if she should walk through it or remain here, where the line between them was tenuous, but a line nonetheless; safe, and capable of being enforced, if she needed to run.
Y/N recalled a conversation they’d had about Mitsuri and Obanai before the pair had begun dating – back when they, too, had been chained to their own doubts of the other’s sincerity.
They should let themselves try, he’d quietly insisted.
She’d rebuked his words, only to find herself eat crow later; Mitsuri and Obanai had let themselves try, and now they were together, mending and growing as one instead of as two.
Maybe they could try, too.
“But why?” Y/N pressed, because though she’d decided at that moment to walk through that door with no reservations, she still wanted to hear him say it; wanted an explanation, after all these months.
“You know why,” was his only reply, his voice growing hoarse as he drew up within an arm’s reach of her.
Y/N shook her head again, but Sanemi did not stop; his hands boxed her in on the counter, one thick forearm coming to brace on either side of the kitchen counter, thumbs just grazing her thighs.
“You know why,” he insisted.
Y/N finally lifted her eyes to his, the last wavering thread of her resolve dissolving as she beheld the timid, pleading sincerity in his stare.
She exhaled, softly, but she did not move away from him.
“Then show me.”
She’d never seen Sanemi look so shy as he lifted one hand to cup her delicately under the chin. As he leaned in close, Y/N felt a curious tingle in her stomach that only grew in its intensity as his lips – so warm and soft – brushed against hers.
It was butterflies, Y/N realized as her eyes closed, that she’d felt fluttering in her stomach as Sanemi kissed her, because it was everything their first kiss should have been. It was not rough and sticky from mixed drinks and being pressed against dirty club walls in the dark, like the act itself was a shameful secret driven only by lust.
It was gentle, and soft, like the first fall of snowflakes against her cheeks. It was warm like a summer breeze, gently messing the tendrils of her hair against her bare shoulders, as it caressed her skin and promised precious moments of levity and of peace.
Sanemi’s lips moved against hers, still so gentle, and Y/N felt not just the love she’d come to accept he held for her, but also his hope, as tentative and uncertain and yet as eager, as a newborn fawn taking its first shaking steps in the spring.
It was everything; he was everything.
Their kiss grew more heated as they both grew more desperate to consume one another, the desire to make up for all the time lost between them morphing into a base need, as though their minds knew they needed the other to help put themselves back together again; to make themselves whole.
Sanemi’s hands found the sliver of skin exposed between the top of her underwear and the bottom of her tank top, and Y/N moaned, her legs wrapping around his hips to lock her closer to him as she let Sanemi engulf her in his strong, sturdy arms.
He lifted her effortlessly from the counter, his lips never leaving hers, and he began to walk them toward his bedroom. As Y/N’s legs wrapped eagerly around his waist, and her fingers tightened their grip in his hair, she found herself grateful that his room was just around the corner.
His tongue danced slowly with hers as he nudged the door to his room open with his foot and blindly pushed it shut once they were safely inside.
Sanemi’s lips dropped to her neck as he carried her to his bed, laying her out beneath him as his hands skimmed under her tank top, rough fingertips gliding up the sides of her bare waist until his palms rested against her breasts, rolling the mounds between his hands until she was moaning into his mouth, her wetness gathering quickly in her underwear as Sanemi pressed his groin against hers and rolled.
He made quick work of discarding her sleeping top, his mouth closing around one of her nipples as he gave it a hard suck, his hand cupping the other to roll her stiffening nipple between his fingers with a surety that had her whining and tugging at his hair, begging him for more.
Y/N’s fingers clawed at his back, eager to tear his t-shirt from his back so that her hands could greedily roam the stony ridges of his back, his chest. Sanemi groaned as she raked her nails across his shoulders, and he nipped her breast in response for making his way down to where her underwear struggled to conceal her arousal from him.
His tongue grazed over the thin scrap of fabric that separated her bare cunt from his waiting mouth and he groaned, his fingers digging into the sides of her thighs. “I can taste you through your damn panties,” he growled, his eyes dark as they lifted up to her face, flushed bright pink as she watched him slowly drag his tongue up her clothed slit. “Are you that needy for me already, baby?”
Sanemi withdrew himself from between her legs, and Y/N thought she’d fall apart at the loss of his warmth above her. Any protestations she had bubbling in her throat, however, died, as Sanemi shoved his sweatpants down his legs, his thick length springing forth and bouncing against his navel.
No matter how many times she’d seen it, the sight of his cock, long and with considerable girth, with a pretty, mushroom-like tip that grew an angry red the longer he went without stimulation, never failed to make her mouth go dry.
“Let me take care of you, sweet girl,” he cooed, slowly kneeling before where she laid sprawled on his bed as his hands smoothed up her thighs to the bottom of her underwear. Gently, his fingers curled under the fabric and began to slide them down the length of her legs, until he’d pulled them away from her feet.
Before he returned to her, he balled the discarded cloth in his hand and brought it to his nose, eyes closing as he inhaled deeply the scent of her arousal, a soft growl reverberating from the back of his throat as he opened his eyes, amethyst irises full of heady want for her.
“Fuck, I’ve missed that,” he said quietly, his movements slow, teasing, as he knelt on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, as he settled between her thighs.
Y/N huffed a shaky laugh. “It’s been two weeks, you nymphomaniac,” though she nearly gulped at way his eyes darkened as he exhaled softly along her glistening, throbbing core.
Sanemi sat back from her, eyes roaming her bare body as he considered her words. “You’re right, it’s been two weeks,” he said evenly, as his hands slide under backside, lifting her up to work himself under her until she was perched on his abdomen, its rocky ridges brushing deliciously against her bare folds.
“W-what are you -!” Y/N’s question was cut off as Sanemi’s broad, warm hands gripped under her thighs and hauled her up his torso, bringing her to hover just above his face as he settled beneath her.
“It’s been too long,” Sanemi grunted, his voice like gravel with his desire. “I need this. I need you.”
His strength had always greatly outmatched her own, but Y/N did not try to struggle as he lowered her bare cunt onto his mouth, his hands braced on her hips as he pushed her full weight down onto his face, groaning loudly as her essence enveloped him.
Sanemi’s head had spent a great deal of time between her thighs since the start of the summer, and yet this was somehow far more intimate.
Intimate, because she was utterly helpless as he held her throbbing core flush against his face, his arms caged tightly around her thighs, prohibiting her from moving away even if she’d wanted to do so, as he devoured her.
From beneath her, Sanemi let out a deep groan as his tongue sank between her folds and began lapping at her. Sanemi’s expert tongue wove in and out of her folds, periodically grazing over her entrance with such teasing fervor that Y/N felt her lower abdominal muscles seize, and she could not stop her hips as she began to grind into his mouth, her head tossed back.
A sharp prick against her inner thigh had Y/N’s eyes flying open as she looked down, surprised to see Sanemi licking the inside of her thigh where he’d nipped her. Even in the dark, Y/N could see the moonlight reflecting off his lavender irises he held her gaze, the hands around her thighs tightening and Sanemi slid his hot, silken tongue into her opening.
Y/N’s responding moan was loud, wanton, her head falling back as her hips ground down into his mouth as she began to ride his tongue. Below her, Sanemi groaned, his laps and sucks at her most sensitive area growing louder as he greedily slurped her juices.
Y/N began to feel that coil deep in her stomach grow tighter as her clit began to pulse and throb against Sanemi’s relentless tongue and lips. One hand slid under her to play with her entrance, his rough fingers circling her opening, sliding into her until his first knuckle before withdrawing, teasing her as her hips bucked wildly against his face, as she grew more desperate for him to fill her.
“Sanemi – p-please,” Y/N begged as his deft fingers avoided sinking into her spasming heat once more, a small scream of frustration tearing from her throat as he continued to tease her.
Though her white-haired lover was prone to continue teasing her, the grip around her thighs tightened as Sanemi pressed her harder against his face, his tongue thrusting in and out of her as his teeth grazed her aching bead over and over. Y/N’s cries grew louder, closer together, as the rough stubble of his jaw scraped against her sensitive flesh.
It was too much; with a sharp cry, Y/N’s thighs seized around Sanemi’s head as she felt a rush of her juices gush out of her, coating his face. The vibrations from Sanemi’s groans of satisfaction intensified the ripple of pleasure that rocked through her, and Y/N could not stop herself from grinding even harder against him in a desperate attempt to prolong her release.
Y/N fought to keep herself upright as she bucked against his face, but the sensation had become too much, and she found herself falling back against his legs. Sanemi didn’t seem to mind, his arms remaining tightly locked around her lower hips as he continued to rock his face against her core, her thighs shuddering around his head at the scrape of his stubbled jaw against her heated, sensitive flesh.
She turned her head and was surprised to see how close Sanemi’s cock was to her face, standing thick and tall as it bounced proudly against his abdomen with every flex of his stomach muscles and thighs as he continued to eat her out like she was his final meal.
Y/N’s lips went dry as her eyes took in the leaking, red tip of him, so demanding and eager, and yet he’d been utterly content to ignore his own need in favor of satisfying hers.
She struggled against his iron-like grip on her hips, trying desperately to turn so she could take him fully into her mouth, but he was too lost in her cunt to realize she wasn’t trying to get away; she wanted him, wanted to pleasure him as must as he insisted on pleasing her.
“Sanemi,” she whined, trying to turn once more, but his arms only tightened around her, a growl of warning reverberating from his chest.
Straining, Y/N leaned as close as she could to his aching cock and stuck her tongue out, just managing to graze the side of it before she had to pull away.
It was enough. At the first caress of her wet tongue against him, she felt Sanemi freeze beneath her, his tongue momentarily pausing mid-thrust into her core as he realized what she was trying to do.
“Fuck this,” he muttered, finally tearing himself away from her lovingly abused cunt and throwing her off him to the side, her breasts bouncing as she settled against the mattress. “I need you – now.”
Sanemi covered her body with his own, her legs falling to the side with practiced ease as she accommodated his hips. Despite his gruff words, Sanemi bent down to kiss her softly, his lips warm and gentle, as one hand rose to caress her cheek. Y/N locked her arms around his neck, happily sighing into his mouth as his tongue slid between her lips to stroke hers, each caress making the fire in her lower belly burn hotter and more urgent.
Sanemi shifted, keeping one hand on her face as the other moved to grip him at his base, aligning himself with her entrance. His eyes flitted back up to hers one more time, seeking her permission, and it made Y/N’s heart seize. Even after more than two months of sleeping with her, he still insisted on ensuring he had her approval.
Had she been able to form a coherent sentence, she would have begged him to take her, but she’d long since lost her ability to speak thanks to Sanemi’s skilled hands and mouth, and so, she only rolled her hips towards his impatiently, whimpering with her need.
Sanemi groaned in response and the hot, flared tip of his aching cock pushed into her. Ordinarily, Sanemi took his time working his way inside her, given his considerable size and girth; but, thanks to the way he’d insisted she ride his face, Y/N’s core had become impossibly slick that Sanemi sunk into her molten heat in a single, fluid motion, not stopping until his base was pressed flush against hers.
A hitched breath blew past Sanemi’s lips as he buried his face into the crook of his neck. He locked one arm around her upper back, the other encircling her thigh to hold her open for him as he began to rock into her, sloppily and hurried, as though he were getting lost in the feeling of her tight, soaking heat as she clenched around him.
“S-Sanemi!” Y/N gasped, her fingers burying themselves into the pale cornsilk of his hair as she tugged, eliciting a deep groan from the Adonis that ground into her from above with abandon.
Y/N’s hips moved of their own accord as she desperately sought to meet his frenzied thrusts, circling and pushing against him as Sanemi’s cock hit that spot within her that made her toes curl and her stomach dip. She was as wanton and desperate as he was, though the harder she moved against him, the more needy she became.
She needed him to be closer; so much closer.
“’Nemi,” she cried, begging him though she did not know what she begged for, as she moved her hands from his hair to rake her nails down his back, needing him to do something, anything to bring her closer -.
Sanemi locked a steely arm around her middle and in one fluid motion, flipped them, bringing Y/N atop him.
Both groaned in unison as the new position allowed Sanemi to reach even deeper within her, and Y/N felt nearly intoxicated by the sensation of being filled and stretched to her limit. Sanemi’s hands braced at her waist as he began to help her roll her hips against his, his head falling back as his eyes fell shut in bliss, a deep moan falling from his mouth.
Tears stung Y/N’s eyes as she ground against him because she understood what his actions meant even if he’d not uttered a word.
Sanemi Shinazugawa said he’d never let anyone ride him.
But he wanted to be hers.
So, with an unfamiliar yet welcome warmth spreading through her chest, Y/N began move, her hips softly rolling and grinding against his as she braced her hands against his rocky abdomen, fingers digging in slightly as she tilted her head back and moaned his name, loud and unrestrained.
“Nemi,” Y/N gasped, her hips rising and falling and grinding against him with a fervor beyond her control, as she could not get enough of how it felt to fuck herself on him. “Am I — ah — doing this right?”
A loud groan from deep in Sanemi’s chest was her only answer, as her lover lifted his head from where it’d been thrown back against his pillow as he basked in the feeling of Y/N’s silky cavern milking him for all he was worth.
“Baby, I don’t think you could do wrong if you tried,” he grunted, his voice trembling with his unbounded desire.
She was inclined to agree, because god, even after months of being fucked by him, none of those previous encounters could compare to the way he was making her feel right then, his warm, sturdy hands braced on her hips as he helped guide her up and down his hot, steely length, the room filling with the sound of their skin clapping as she bounced and ground against him.
Y/N’s hands found his at her waist and she pulled them away, in favor of tightly interlocking their fingers as she increased her pace, bringing herself up off his cock before dropping her hips back down again for a needy grind, her walls fluttering around him with each push and pull against him.
She fell forward slightly, pressing the back of his hands down into the mattress and holding them there, just over his head, their fingers tightly interlocked together. She shifted, so that she could brace a little of her weight into him, pressing them even harder into the soft bed as she increased her pace, rolling into him faster as she circled her hips around him.
With his hands pinned above his head, and his eyes squeezed tightly shut as a needy moan echoed from his throat, Y/N swore she’d never seen sight more beautiful than that of Sanemi completely at her mercy.
“I want to finish like this,” Sanemi’s voice had an uncharacteristic desperation in it that bordered on begging, he threw his head back harder against his pillow, the tendons in his neck tensing as he groaned unrestrainedly for her. “Please, Y/N –,”
She only ground down against him harder, his pleas choking off in his throat as his fingers dug harder into her hips. “Sh-i-it,” Sanemi groaned out, his hips thrusting wildly up into her, so lost in just how deep he could reach within her vice-like, silky heat.
Guided by pure instinct, Y/N released his hands and sat up, her own drifting behind her as she began to fondle his swollen, heavy balls while she continued the relentless pull and drop of her hips up and down his throbbing cock.
“Fuck!” Sanemi bucked harshly up into her, his head pressing harder against the pillow beneath him as the muscles in his neck strained, his eyes falling shut in his bliss. One of his hands found its way to her lower abdomen, pressing down slightly so she could feel him pressing against the front wall of her core, Y/N’s voice cracking as she moaned. His other hand lowered to where they were connected, and he began to swirl his thumb around her aching clit, his ministrations causing the walls of her cunt to pulse and constrict around him as her end neared.
Y/N’s thighs began to burn with exhaustion as she bounced up and down his cock, but she could not stop, not until she reached the dizzying height of her pleasure that was quickly coming on the harder she rode him.
Sanemi, however, appeared to sense her growing tiredness. “C’mere,” he said gruffly, one hand lifting to cup her face as the other shifted to press against the small of her back, guiding her to lay flush against him as he claimed her mouth with his own and began to thrust up into her, holding her securely against him.
Y/N groaned into his mouth, as their new position allowed Sanemi to hit a spot within that had her seeing stars as he kept her crushed against him, his tongue dancing languidly with hers. The hand on her lower back moved so that his arm could wrap around her waist and embrace her, as his other hand moved from her jaw to brush a lock of hair back that had fallen in front of her face.
“N-Nemi,” Y/N whimpered, her hips beyond her control as they dropped and rolled and ground against him, in desperate search of her release.
“I know, sweetheart. I know,” Sanemi’s voice was raspy, his arm tightening on her waist in a poor effort at restraint. “I feel it, too.”
Sanemi began thrusting up into her spasming cunt, a renewed string of curses falling from his mouth as the messy sound of Y/N’s honeyed core filled the room. Y/N felt herself begin to tighten around him, the thighs trembling against either side of his waist as she slammed herself back onto him, her cries growing louder as Sanemi brought her closer to her peak. His hips began to lose rhythm as he wildly jutted into her. Y/N’s eyes were squeezed shut as she began to babble, alternating between cries of his name and nearly incoherent pleas for more.
Sanemi’s hand found hers and brought it up against his chest, holding it tightly as his other arm cinched around her waist. “Let go for me, baby,” his voice was hoarse as he leaned up slightly to brush a kiss against her lips.
One, strong grind of her hips later, Y/N shattered around him, her inner walls seizing him like a vice as she tipped her head back and wailed for him, so pretty and so completely undone by him that she did not think she could ever be put back together and be wholly her own, without his touch forever imprinted on her skin, or upon her heart.
She knew, at that moment, as Sanemi’s grunts turned into loud, unrestrained moans as he bucked wildly into her, that running from him had always been futile, because she’d only ever been running in circles, only to find herself as she was then, right back on her knees before him, utterly his.
The difference was, she realized as he gave one last mighty push of his hips up into her still-spasming core, his seed shooting into her with blinding force, as a strangled shout-cry tore from his throat and his fingers seized around hers against his chest, that he’d been running in the same circle, too, just in the opposite direction. But now they’d run out of track to tread, and he’d smacked right into her, knocking both of them off their axes, stumbling and spinning together until they’d finally hit the ground, with only each other to face and nowhere else to run; and she was tired of running, anyways.
Because she knew, as Sanemi’s hips finally stilled against hers and she collapsed against his chest and he on the bed, leaking cock still nestled between her legs, that she loved him.
She loved him.
She loved him.
-----
Neither of them spoke for a long while, both panting hard as they caught their breaths.
“You said you think I’m possessive — maybe I am,” Sanemi said after a long moment, as the two came down from their mutual highs. “But it’s because I want to be yours. I’ve always been yours.”
He paused before continuing, his arms around her tightening. But when he spoke again, his voice was perceptibly softer, more timid, as though afraid of her rejection. “And I want you to be mine, too.”
Let him into your heart, and he will gladly give you his.
Y/N’s hand found his at her waist, and gently, she removed it. As she brushed her lips over the calloused pads, always so soft whenever they touched her, she lifted her gaze to his.
“You are mine,” she repeated softly, before moving his hand to press against the valley between her breasts, where her heart beat strong against her sternum. “And this has always belonged to you.”
Sanemi’s cheeks burned red as he bent to graze her lips with his, his hand still pressed against her chest. So innocent and chaste was the kiss that it was easy to forget that his cock remained buried within her, his seed still gathering on the sheets beneath them as it trickled from her.
Sanemi’s thumb stroked the skin of her sternum absentmindedly. “What comes next, Y/N?” He murmured, his eyes tracing over the features of her face as she rested her cheek against his bicep. “What do you want this to be – what would make you happiest?”
Y/N thought for a moment and weighed all of the emotions that had sat heavily in her chest for the past two days – the past two years – untangling each knot and snarl that had formed to obstruct the heart of her true desire.
When she spoke, her voice was as soft as a feather.
“I want to be with you. I’ve only ever wanted to be with you. That hasn’t changed.”
Sanemi’s eyes widened with a hope she knew he’d not dare let himself feel ever since their fateful reunion at the Kizuki. “So you’ll stay? With me?”
Y/N’s answering smile was wide as she leaned up to brush a gentle kiss against his lips. “Yes, ‘Nemi. I will stay.”
And for the first time in two years, Y/N felt just as hopeful as him.
“Can I kiss you again?” Sanemi breathed, staring down at her in awe, as though he could not believe that she was real, despite having just had her in the most real way he could have.
Y/N didn’t answer, instead raising her lips to his, as she threaded her fingers through his hair to hold him close to her. Sanemi responded with a soft groan and pressed himself into her. His cock began to twitch to life within her once more as her tongue slid into his eager mouth, gliding alongside his own.
She moaned into his mouth as he began to roll into her, her legs falling to the side to accommodate his body as he settled himself between her thighs. But Sanemi’s warm, rough hands slid underneath her backside and shifted her to lay on her side next to him, her chest pressed flush against his as he began to rock gently into her.
Y/N lifted her leg so that it wrapped around his hips, and Sanemi groaned, one of his steel-like arms wrapping under her upper thigh to hold it in place. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his lips trailing along the underside of her jaw and down her throat. “Just focus on me, baby.”
The hand of the arm gripping her thigh moved to splay across her backside, pushing her against him as he rolled into her. A cracked moan broke from her throat as Sanemi began to massage her cheek in time with the slow, languid pump of his cock into her, the walls of her cunt tightening around him.
They continued to rock into one another like that, softly groaning and gasping every time Sanemi’s hips stuttered against hers, or every time Y/N’s nails sunk harder into the muscular slope of his back, so lost in the feel of the other’s body that Y/N was sure she did not know where she ended, and he began.
“Sanemi,” she cried, because the feeling of him this close, of him being this gentle, was so overwhelming to her because it was more than just fucking. This was them, raw, and unguarded, moving imperfectly against one another and letting their bodies speak in the words their mouths had not.
“It’s okay, baby, I’m here. I’m right here,” he promised, his lips brushing against hers once, twice. His arm tightened around where it gripped her upper thigh, hand splayed across her backside, as he rocked harder into her, both of their ends rapidly approaching. “I’ve got you.”
Y/N pressed her lips desperately against his, needing him to soothe the ache that grew in her core as she drew near the summit of her pleasure. She hitched her leg higher up on his hip to allow him to push deeper into her, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she felt Sanemi’s balls begin to tap against the curve of her backside as he picked up his speed.
“Come with me,” Sanemi grit out, his brow pinched as he stifled another groan. Y/N chased a bead of sweat as it rolled down his neck, mewling in agreement as she tugged him closer, pressing her chest flush against his.
“I’m close – fuck, I’m close,” Sanemi gasped, his lips crashing down against hers, his teeth tugging at her lip before he pulled away. “Are you?”
Y/N nodded desperately, as a long, high-pitched whine tore from her throat. “I wanna cum – ah – Sanemi, please, I want to cum.”
Sanemi’s hurried thrusts up into her melted into rutting, as his thick length hardly slid out of her sopping and spent heat. “Eyes on me, baby,” he managed, his fingers digging into the plush of her ass as he began to twitch inside her – a sure sign he was mere seconds from his peak.
With great effort, Y/N opened her eyes and met those violet eyes that she loved so dearly, and Y/N’s climax slammed into her with a force that had her crying out. She was the rough, coarse wave that crashed and broke around the steady rock that was Sanemi.
His free hand fumbled for hers, bringing it close against his chest, fingers tightly locked together. Her eyes still locked with his, Sanemi’s soft grunts turned to loud, wanton moans, his thrusts sloppy and jerky, as he came in time with Y/N, filling her with his hot, thick seed until it spilled over where they were connected, staining the sheets beneath them.
Sanemi did not stop pumping into her, could not, as he continued to unload within her, the hand on her ass locking her against him as his hips finally stilled against her with a final, strained cry of her name.
He collapsed against her, his full weight bearing down on her as they struggled to catch their breath. After a few moments, Sanemi shifted like he was going to pull out of her and away, but Y/N whined in protest.
“’Nemi,” Y/N panted, her arms locking around his back and holding him to her as she circled her hips against his, Sanemi hissing as she began to overstimulate him. “Please, can we stay like this for just a little longer?”
She hardly recognized the breathy, needy tone with which she spoke. For so long, she’d denied herself of any intimacy with him that extended beyond allowing him to cum in her, always pulling away and fumbling for her clothes the second his climax ended. But now, Y/N could not bear the thought of tearing herself away from him, because she belonged to him, and he finally belonged to her.
Sanemi’s hands dug into her waist as his head dropped into the crook of her shoulder to bury his face into her skin. She felt him inhale deeply, as though she was the air he needed to breath, and he nodded, apparently unable to form any words as he came down from his high.
After a few, quiet moments, the air around them only occasionally disturbed by the sound of their breathing, Sanemi answered her. “I will always want you to stay.”
-----
Y/N did not remember the last time she’d slept more peacefully than she did that night wrapped in Sanemi’s arms.
When the bright light of the sun finally broke through the gossamer-like curtains hung on the guest room window, Y/N sleepily blinked herself awake, turning to bury her face into the mattress to hide away from the bright, unrelenting light of morning. But what lay beneath her cheek was not the feather-plush soft of the luxurious mattresses the Uzuis had in every room of their summer home; it was rocky, hard muscle covered by warm, scar-speckled skin that made up the man she loved with every fiber of her being.
Sanemi groaned as he felt her face press against his upper abdomen, his hand raising to caress up her spine as he drew his other arm over his eyes to block out the sun. “’S too early,” he protested, drawing a light chuckle from Y/N.
“We have to leave soon,” she whispered, pressing a kiss against the rigid plane of his abdomen before trailing her lips down to where his cock was already beginning to stir. “Let’s at least enjoy the morning.”
Sanemi did not protest as she ducked beneath the covers to take him into her mouth, sighing happily as his hands softly stroked her hair while she bobbed up and down his length. Sanemi, however, was too impatient to feel Y/N’s walls around him once more, and lasted only a minute before he tugged her up his torso and sank her down onto him, his face buried into her neck as his teeth bit into the sensitive skin of her throat.
Y/N spent the remainder of their morning fucking herself once more on Sanemi’s stiff length, relishing the way his broad hands slid under her thighs as she rode him to lift them up so he could watch himself thrust up into her, admiring the way his cock glistened with the pleasure he helped to give her.
A couple of hours later, the group of friends loaded up their respective cars, Tengen and Obanai grumbling under the bright light of day as both fought of their mutual hangovers from the previous night’s inhibitions.
Though Y/N was set to ride with Mitsuri and Sanemi with the boys, neither of them could conceal the small, contented smiles they bore as they loaded their bags into the trunks of their cars, the pair occasionally sneaking a furtive glance at the other, smiles only broadening as their eyes met.
Just before Y/N opened the passenger door of Mitsuri’s vintage Volkswagen, she felt a pair of fingers, rough yet warm and familiar, brush shyly against her own.
“Text me when you guys get back, okay?” Sanemi murmured. On the other side of the car, Mitsuri’s jaw fell open, and her jade eyes gleamed with poorly-concealed excitement.
Y/N closed her hand around his and jerked him down, muffling his grunt of surprise as her lips met his. “I will.” She said as she released him, Sanemi’s cheeks turning pink as he grinned back at her. His hand closed around hers where it rested on the door handle of Mitsuri’s car, and pulled it open, holding it for her as she turned and lowered herself into the passenger seat.
Mitsuri practically tripped over herself as she scrambled into the driver’s seat, though she restrained herself from squealing until the door was shut safely behind her. Keys turning in the ignition, the pink-haired girl turned to her best friend, nearly vibrating with excitement.
“Tell me everything. Now.”
Y/N laughed as the pinkette pulled out of the manicured driveway of the Uzuis’ lake house, and she began to fill her friend in on everything that had changed between her and her childhood best friend.
-----
The lightness that Y/N felt leaving the lake house lasted the entire drive back home with Mitsuri in the latter’s car, her chest feeling full and warm as the two scream-sang along to every song on Mitsuri’s playlist.
The sun was nearly setting by the time the pinkette parked her car in front of their apartment building, the pair having stopped to grab sushi for dinner for themselves. As the two exited Mitsuri’s car, Y/N noted Shinobu’s small, purple sports car parked at the far end of the lot and smiled to herself, knowing her friend was home, where they could talk. As they’d picked up their to-go order from the sushi restaurant down the street, Y/N had made the last-minute decision to grab one of Shinobu’s favorite rolls, having resolved to talk to her other roommate and work things out between them.
Not that there was truly anything for them to work out – Y/N had concluded she didn’t blame her friend for what had happened; Y/N had made her own choices, as had Douma.
The pair of best friends giggled as they walked up the steps to their apartment, takeout bags in hand, ready for a night of relaxing on the couch with sushi, some facemasks, and trashy reality television. Y/N’s key unlocked the front door, which swung open to a darkened apartment. Her fingers flipped the kitchen light on and the sushi bag in her hands dropped to the floor.
For there, sprawled on the linoleum by the kitchen counter in a puddle of her own vomit and blood, was Shinobu.
She wasn’t moving; it was hard to tell if she was breathing.
Everything seemed to slow down and speed up all at once. One moment, the two young women were laughing and talking as they returned from a life-changing weekend at the lake, and the next, Mitsuri was screaming while Y/N heard nothing but the strong roar of panic echoing in her ears.
“Call an ambulance!” Y/N managed to bite out at her hyperventilating friend as she dropped to her knees beside her unconscious roommate, her hands shaking as she tried to feel for a pulse. “Mitsuri!”
As the pinkette scrambled for her phone, Y/N took note of the odd violet hue of Shinobu’s vomit and the sickly-sweet scent of flowers and synthetic fruit.
With trembling hands, Y/N brushed back a strand of her friend’s inky-violet hair that had fallen in front of her face. There, mixed within the dried blood beneath Shinobu’s nostrils, was the faintest trace of lilac.
Wisteria.
Over the roaring in her ears, Y/N vaguely heard Mitsuri crying into the phone with the emergency dispatch operator.
“She’s twenty,” Mitsuri sobbed. “We don’t know what happened, but it might’ve been an overdose. But there’s blood, too.”
Her pink-haired friend was right; there was an alarming amount of blood, dark and sticky, that had pooled beneath Shinobu’s head. Y/N suspected she’d hit her head on the edge of the counter, either because she’d tripped or because she’d passed out and hadn’t been able to catch herself, but Y/N couldn’t tell where the wound was, and she was too afraid to risk moving her friend’s head and worsening her injuries.
“Is she breathing?” It took a moment for Y/N to register that Mitsuri’s question was directed at her. “Y/N is she breathing?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, “I don’t know, Mitsuri.” And, because she was panicked and scared, and utterly useless, Y/N began to cry. “I can’t tell; my hands won’t stop shaking.”
“I can’t tell.”
-----
Half an hour later, Y/N stood against the wall of the small waiting area in the emergency room, leg bouncing in agitation and anxiety. Beside her, Mitsuri sat with her head in her hands as the two waited for any news as to their friend’s condition.
The outer doors to the emergency room slid open and the girls were joined by Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma, the latter of whom was crying softly to herself. A few moments later, Obanai arrived, face severe, aiming straight for the pinkette as he crouched before her, covering the hands she had buried in her hair with his own and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.
The waiting room had become too crowded for Y/N’s frazzled nerves to handle. She tore herself from the wall against which she had been fixed, opting instead to pace the hallway between the waiting area and the main hospital. Makio may have called her name, but the roaring in Y/N’s head had become too loud, the jitter under her skin too incessant, for her to remain still in the waiting room a second longer.
Y/N finally exhausted herself enough to slump back against the wall, the passing sounds and beeps of the hospital only faint echoes in her ears. But then there were thunderous footsteps walking quickly toward her, and Y/N’s eyes lifted just in time to see Sanemi’s stormy face as he reached for her.
He crushed her against him, one hand buried in her hair as his other arm wrapped around her waist, holding her to him as though he needed to assure himself that she was real and there, and not the one getting her stomach pumped on the other side of the sealed emergency room doors.
His lips pressed hard against the top of her head, Sanemi inhaling deeply before pulling back from her, his hand rising to cup beneath Y/N’s jaw so he could tilt her face up toward him, those lilac eyes scanning her frantically for any sign of external injury.
“I didn’t know,” he said hoarsely against the crown of her head as he pulled her back against him. “Tengen called -- only said an ambulance was being sent to your apartment – that a twenty-year-old woman had overdosed.”
Y/N shook her head against his chest, breathing in his comforting scent and allowing it to still the jitters crawling beneath her skin. “I haven’t used in a week, Sanemi.”
Her – boyfriend? paramour? exhaled shakily, his arms tightening around her. “I was scared. After last night, I-” Sanemi swallowed thickly. “I was worried you regretted it.”
Y/N closed her eyes as she let herself melt against his stabilizing warmth. “Not you,” she murmured, “Never you.”
-----
An hour later, Y/N stood in her kitchen, chest heaving as she looked at the wreckage of Shinobu’s bender scattered around her.
There was an empty bottle of peach vodka lying on its side on the floor. Lilac residue was smeared on the kitchen counter, likely the result of Shinobu having snorted it the night before. A puddle of her vomit, streaked with purple, still lingered where the petite woman had lost consciousness.
Sanemi came around the kitchen counter, his hand resting at the small of Y/N’s back as he guided her away from the cabinet below. He bent to pull out a bottle of bleach and a roll of paper towels, as well as a pair of cleaning gloves that he pulled over his scarred, callused hands, and he set to work scrubbing at the floor.
Y/N watched him for a long moment before she moved to begin rounding up all of the bottles of liquor and wine that had been stashed in their apartment. One by one, she dumped their contents into the sink and chucked the empty containers into the garbage.
Next, Y/N gathered up all traces of Shinobu’s Wisteria from their various stash spots around the apartment. It had taken her a while to hunt through pharmacology student’s room, given that the young woman had become rather adept at squirreling away those poisonous little pills. Over the course of an hour, Y/N had managed to locate every little baggie and loose pill shoved under her friend’s mattress, tucked into her sock drawer, and slotted between pages of textbooks she’d never opened.
She’d stood over the toilet where she’d flushed them for a long while after the last of those lilac devils had swirled down the drain. It was not until a pair of warm, comforting arms encircled her from behind that Y/N was aware of the tears slipping hot and fast down her cheeks.
Sanemi pressed a soft kiss into the back of her neck as she cried, allowing her to press her face into his muscled forearm until her sobs had quieted, before he turned her around. He’d kept one hand on her shoulder as he leaned to tug her shower curtain open and turn the water on, before returning to her. Slowly, and with more gentleness than Y/N thought she deserved, Sanemi began to undress her, chucking her vomit and sweat-stained clothes into her laundry bin before helping her into the shower.
Y/N stood numbly under the hot spray of the water as she waited, the sounds of Sanemi’s belt and pants hitting the cold tile of the floor before he parted the curtain and stepped into the bathtub with her.
The moment he’d re-oriented the shower curtain to close them in, Y/N melted against him. Sanemi’s hands came to her waist, gently turning her so that her back was to him, as though he knew she was losing the battle against the weariness that had seeped into her bones. His arms locked tightly around her, he guided them to sit on the floor of the bathtub. He situated Y/N between his legs, her back resting against his chest. One arm was wrapped around her upper shoulders, holding her to him, as the other wound around her waist from behind, gripping her hand in his. His lips found the juncture between her shoulder and neck, brushing softly against her wet skin once before he buried his face there and held her, as the hot water beat down upon them.
They stayed like that until Y/N could no longer tell whether the water on her face was from her tears or the spray of the shower nozzle above.
Only after the water had begun to cool and their fingers had turned wrinkled did Sanemi help her stand, reaching behind her to shut the shower off.
Sanemi stepped out first, grabbing a towel from where it hung on the back of her bathroom door, to secure around his waist. He then produced two more from Y/N’s bathroom closet – her two fluffiest – and held them under his arm as he used his free hand to help Y/N out of her shower to stand on her bathmat.
Had she’d any tears left, Y/N was certain they would have been shed as Sanemi gently toweled her hair and body try before he scooped her up and carried her to her bedroom.
Sanemi set her carefully on the edge of her bed before leaving to return to her bathroom once more. Y/N’s eyes were fixed blankly on the carpeted floor of her room, her mind blank and that howling numbness that had become her constant companion over the last two months threatening to swallow her whole once more. She barely registered Sanemi’s return to her room until he, in all of his shower-dampened glory, knelt at her feet, with a bottle of her favorite lotion in hand.
Wordlessly, Sanemi pumped some of the lotion into his hand and began to gently massage it into her skin, starting at her feet and working his way up her legs. Once he’d reached the tops of her thighs, he repeated the action once more, carefully taking the time to ensure that he worked the lotion on every part of her body. With every stroke of his hand against her skin, Sanemi chased away that encroaching numbness, replacing it with the warmth of his adoration and love for her.
“Have you eaten today?” Sanemi’s voice broke the comfortable silence that had settled over them.
Y/N shook her head. “But I’m not hungry – really,” She urged as Sanemi opened his mouth in protest. “Can we just – just lay here?” She patted the soft down of her bed, motioning for him to join her.
Sanemi nodded, rising to turn towards her dresser to pull out a pair of underwear for her and digging out a pair of briefs of his that he’d let her borrow as pair of shorts after one of their earlier trysts.
Once both had pulled their respective pairs of underwear on, Sanemi squeezed himself into the small crevice between her twin bed and her bedroom wall and held out his arm in an invitation that Y/N did not hesitate to accept.
She curled against his bare chest, warm against her own naked skin, and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as she sighed deeply, inhaling his scent and allowing it to wash over her, and still her mind.
Sanemi’s hands absentmindedly stroked her hair, his lips periodically pressing against her hairline as she began to doze in his arms. Just before the exhaustion commanded her to fall into sleep’s embrace, she spoke.
“I meant what I said earlier – I haven’t used Wisteria in over a week. I stopped drinking. I’m done, Sanemi. I swear it.”
Her face was pressed against his pectoral, so she did not see the tears of quiet, exhausted relief that filled his eyes as he pressed his lips against her forehead once more. “I know. Kyo mentioned on the way back that you’d been dealing with withdrawal for the last week. That it was why you weren’t answering your phone.”
Sanemi’s arms tightened around her as she began to drift off. “I’m proud of you, Y/N.” And then, he added in a voice so quiet that she almost didn’t hear it before sleep’s sweet lull pulled her under. “Thank you for choosing to stay.”
-----
She slept soundly through the night once more, until Sanemi awoke her in the early hours of the morning with his head between her legs, Y/N gaining consciousness just in time to come on his tongue. In the throes of her climax, Sanemi replaced its position at her entrance with his fingers as he dragged it up her messy folds so he could suckle at her clit.
Sleepily, Y/N clawed at his back, an impatient demand for more falling in the form of a whine from her lips, and Sanemi complied. He turned her onto her stomach and his cock found its way between her thighs as he began to fuck her from behind, his hips setting a leisurely pace as they slapped against her ass, Y/N’s soft moans only growing in their vibrato as he brought her to orgasm yet again, his warmth flooding her shortly after as he sighed her name.
They remained in bed for another few hours, talking and holding one another, trading lazy kisses and gentle caresses because they could not get enough of touching each other like they were right then – soft and meaningful, because Y/N and Sanemi were now a them, rather than two people who alternated running from the other.
Sanemi, it seemed, especially couldn’t keep his hands off her, which she found amusing, given that as children, Y/N was always the one who initiated any kind of affection with him, though she suspected that his begrudging acceptance of it had really been a front to conceal his true feelings.
His hand was smoothing up and down her bare thigh as she stroked his hair, his eyelids fluttering shut against her touch, when his phone rang from its place on her nightstand. Groaning, Sanemi blindly felt for the buzzing device, answering it only with a grunt as he kept his eyes locked on her, his hand still gliding up and down her shin.
His brow furrowed in seriousness, and he nodded, as though whomever was on the other end could actually see him, before he muttered a soft, “thanks, man,” and clicked the phone off, tossing it back onto her covers.
“That was Iguro. Shinobu is awake, and they’re allowing visitors.” His eyes were full of a quiet concern as he regarded her gently. “Are you okay to go right now?”
Y/N was already making her way out of bed, nodding. Of course she was okay to go – she needed to go, needed to assure for herself that her friend was awake and knew she was supported.
She dressed quickly, donning only a matching black workout set and sneakers before pulling a jacket over her bare shoulders. Sanemi merely tugged on the clothes he'd worn the day before.
“I’ll stop at my place on the way back,” he added, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “If you want me to stay again tonight, that is,”
Y/N turned away so he wouldn’t see the small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she quieted a laugh, so as not to make him feel embarrassed. “I want you to stay.”
Sanemi drove them, though he kept his hand firmly locked around hers the entire ride. Ever since they’d began their physical relationship back at the start of the summer, she’d been adamant that she wouldn’t allow herself to accept any affection from him if he didn’t have his cock buried inside of her while he gave it. It seemed too risky at the time, as though allowing him to care for her would blur some line she insisted had already been drawn, even though she’d been the one to hold the stick marking the ground.
Now, in hindsight, she couldn’t believe she’d denied herself of his intimacy for so long – not when it felt this good to have his steadying, grounding warmth wrapped firmly around her hand, his thumb running over her knuckles as he smoothly worked the steering wheel with his free hand.
This -- whatever this was. It was good.
-----
By the time Sanemi drove them back to her apartment, the evening sky was beginning to shift from a pale blue to a creamy orange, the sun beginning its descent towards sleep for the night.
Y/N, herself, felt an exhaustion so heavy, she wondered whether it had infiltrated the marrow of her bones. Her head ached slightly after a solid hour of crying with Shinobu, the latter offering apology after apology as Y/N held her trembling form close, shushing her with assurances that she’d never blamed the pixie-like girl for what Douma had chosen to do just a few weeks earlier.
Shinobu had confessed she hadn’t been trying to harm herself – not really, anyways. Rather, she’d been so overcome by her guilt and self-loathing that she’d stopped keeping track of just how much alcohol she’d been drinking or how much of her accursed Wisteria she’d been ingesting. The cut on the side of her forehead truly hadn’t been that deep, but it had been the result of a fall she couldn’t break, just as Y/N expected.
Y/N had sat, curled beside her roommate and dear friend, for another couple of hours, until Giyuu materialized in the doorway, deep-set shadows under his eyes and breathing hard, as he took in Shinobu’s vulnerable form, hooked up to various hospital machines, with a thick bandage wrapped around her head.
Y/N had quietly untangled herself from her friend and quietly exited the room, patting Giyuu’s shoulder as she passed him, though the ravenette did not acknowledge her, far too focused on his crying girlfriend as he wrapped her in his arms and held her tightly against his chest.
As they’d walked back to his car, Sanemi told her that Giyuu had driven straight through the night from his sister’s the moment he’d received word of Shinobu’s condition, too frantic to be by her side to even stop for food or rest.
Sanemi swung by his apartment, as he promised, and emerged a few minutes later with a bag full of his clothes and toiletries before he drove the rest of the short drive back to her shared apartment with Mitsuri and Shinobu. Her best friend, however, had decided to stay over at Obanai’s, and given that her other roommate was unlikely to be discharged before the following day, Y/N and Sanemi had her apartment to themselves once again.
After a dinner of vegetable omlettes, prepared by Sanemi, the pair fell back into Y/N’s tiny twin bed, both exhausted from the excitement and stress of the previous four days. Y/N, in particular, had felt more emotionally zapped than she had in a long while, having spent the majority of the holiday weekend crying for one reason or another, and wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her evening wrapped securely in Sanemi’s arms as she listened to his heartbeat lull her to sleep.
She’d stripped herself of her clothes, leaving herself in only her thong, as she pressed herself against Sanemi’s bare chest. Sanemi, however, could sense her weariness, and so they did no more than kiss every now and then, both merely content to simply hold the other and bask in their shared warmth.
“Thank you for being here for me – yesterday and today,” Y/N murmured quietly, her lips grazing his collarbone.
Sanemi’s fingers brushed under her chin as he tilted her face up to meet her eyes. “I told you already, I’m all in. Whatever it is you want from me, I’ll be it.”
Y/N smiled wryly at him as her eyes roamed his face in consideration. “So, does that mean we’re official? Are we boyfriend-girlfriend?”
His responding smirk made her thighs squeeze together as he leaned in close to her face. “You can call me whatever you want, baby,” he kissed her nose before lowering his lips to hers, though he held back, teasingly. “And for however long as you want.”
She giggled as he kissed her and it felt like coming home, and Y/N couldn’t remember the last time she felt like she’d had one of those.
He broke away from her after a moment, hand coming to a rest against the side of her head while his thumb stroked her cheek, a profundity creeping into his eyes.
“I love you, Y/N. With all my heart.”
Y/N thought her heart would fly out of her chest as Sanemi repeated the words she’d uttered to him nearly two years prior. She thought hearing them would cause her to clam up, that they would send her careening back to the dark, lonely hole she’d spent the last half of her university experience trying desperately to claw out of, but they did not.
Instead, Sanemi’s words – her words – mended something within her that she’d long thought to have been irreparably broken. There was no emptiness left in her, no gnawing wound; it had been healed by him and his earnestness, and she only felt her love for him. Love that made her feel pretty, soft, and new, mending her broken heart with its golden light.
“I never stopped loving you,” Y/N’s voice grew thick with the tears that filled her eyes. “Please know that. No matter how mad I was, no matter how low I felt, I always knew I loved you – and I still do.”
Sanemi’s answering grin was so beautiful, so bright, that she wondered why she’d waited so long after making up to say it. His smile made her feel as though she could soar through the sky, breathless and wild and free.
Once upon a time, she’d believed love was pretty; she imagined it would be soft, pink, and shiny and make her feel warm and pretty in return.
Then, as an adult, she realized that love was pretty, but not in the way she’d imagined it would be when she listened to stories of princesses and their knights as a little girl. Love was a blur of many hues, some soft and bright, but some dark and harsh too, melding together to create a kaleidoscope of light and shadows. And it was because of this phantasmagoria of joy and pain and laughter and sadness that love was so beautiful, and so worth fighting for, because in the end, finding herself in the arms of the only person she’d ever loved outweighed any of the heartache which preceded it, and it would be worth whatever heartache was sure to come.
Because loving Sanemi Shinazugawa was worth it all.
EPILOGUE – 2 months later
The sun was golden and bright and the air as crisp as an apple as the couple de-boarded their train at the small station in their hometown, hands clasped tightly together. The blazing heat of summer had quickly given way to October, and the autumn harvest brought with it a new tiding of ruby and ochre yellow leaves.
Y/N was grateful for the loose sweater she’d worn — stolen from Sanemi’s dresser one day several weeks earlier when she’d insisted she needed his scent to take back to her apartment with her, to help her get through the first wave of reading and papers she’d been slammed with. Initially, Sanemi had protested with a grumbled “fuck off,” as she’d tried to lay claim to his favorite sweater.
He’d change his tune rather quickly, however, when his girlfriend then donned the garment whilst giving him what he later called “the best head of his life.” And so, the worn, dark gray sweater had remained safely in Y/N’s care.
As the train doors slid shut behind them, Y/N took a deep, steadying breath, mentally preparing herself for the reason they’d risen early that Saturday morning to return to their sleepy hometown.
The gentle squeeze of Sanemi’s hand around hers as he brought their interlocked fingers to his mouth for a sweet kiss, helped abate some of her nerves and grounded her.
“You ready?” He murmured, his eyes warm and so full of love and concern for the woman beside him that Y/N felt her heart lurch.
She smiled at him, softly, and rose on her toes to press a chaste kiss against his lips. “I’m ready.”
The advantage of living in a small town — no more than a village, really — was that nearly everything was within walking distance, as long as one did not mind a few steep hills here and there. And so, the couple set off from their town’s small train station, towards the grocer to pick up flowers — two bouquets, one for each grave that marked the final resting spot for their loved ones.
Autumnal arrangements in hand, the pair walked in a comfortable silence up the hill leading to the cemetery.
“Genya’s with the rest of my family,” Sanemi said quietly as they passed the iron-gated entrance that gave way to the sprawl of headstones that lined the grassy hilltop. “They’re just over here.”
Y/N nodded, squeezing Sanemi’s hand in assurance as her boyfriend led her up a small trail to a row of graves gathered beneath an old willow tree.
When Sanemi had shared with her that he made this bi-weekly sojourn to visit and lay flowers on the graves of his family, Y/N had cried. She’d held him tightly, offering a litany of apologies for not being there for him more, for the fact he’d been doing it alone.
He wouldn’t hear of it, insisting that she hadn’t anything to apologize for, which only made her cry harder.
A hush fell over the pair as they drew up upon the Shinazugawa family graves, Y/N’s heart breaking a little more as her eyes scanned each name, the life spans etched into the stones far too short.
Wordlessly, Sanemi plucked a flower from the bouquet he carried and laid one at the base of each gravestone, repeating the process until no more flowers remained. Once the last flower was placed, just over Genya’s grave, Sanemi straightened, gripping Y/N’s hand tightly in his own as his other lifted to wipe at his eyes.
“He’d be over the moon, ya know, that we’re finally together,” Sanemi murmured, his voice hoarse with his grief, nodding at the last stone bearing the name of his beloved brother. “He used to give me all kinds of shit for not making a move sooner.”
“He always was wise beyond his years,” Y/N sniffed quietly, her own tears slipping freely down her cheeks. “He used to pester me about it, too – would always ask if I was single, and if I said ‘yes,’ he’d mention that you were also single.” She huffed a watery laugh as the image of the boy’s smiling face flashed through her memory. “Though, I think he did it more so to tease me, because I’d always turn as red as a tomato whenever he’d mention it.”
Sanemi smiled softly as he squeezed her hand. “It’s a family trait, I s’ppose.”
The couple remained at the site of Sanemi’s family’s graves for a little while longer, the last living Shinazugawa tucking his girlfriend tightly into his side as he held her close, her warmth helping to keep him anchored here, to life, rather than wishing he slumbered beneath the hardening ground with his family.
Eventually, they agreed to make their way toward the other grave that had drawn them there, Y/N taking a deep, steadying breath as she prepared herself to visit her mother’s final resting place for the first time since her death.
“I think the map said she’s over this way,” Y/N nodded at a small, winding path that led down a gentle hill to the south of the Shinazugawa plot. “I remember I wanted her over there by the walnut tree – she loved them in the autumn.”
Sanemi nodded and let her lead the way, her fingers clutching tightly around the bouquet in her hands as she drew nearer to the tree which marked her mother’s plot, her stomach twisting with anticipation.
Because she knew, the moment her eyes settled on the stone with her mother’s name and dates of birth and death, that reality would hit her all over again; but she persisted, for the sake of her mother, who’d loved her more than anything.
“Mr. Shinazugawa!” A voice called, and both looked over to see the old cemetery caretaker waving in greeting as the pair made their way towards the section where Y/N’s mother rest.
“Good morning, Mr. Urokodaki,” Sanemi answered, nodding respectfully in greeting. “I can’t believe they have you working on the weekends.”
The grandfatherly caretaker chuckled. “Only the departed sleep; I do not.” He shifted the rake he was holding from one hand to another as he wiped his brow. “It’s been a few weeks since I last saw you!”
“School has kept me busy, sir.” Sanemi’s hand around hers squeezed and Y/N smiled softly.
“Well, I had a feeling I’d be seeing you soon, so I went ahead and cleared any leaves off Mrs. Y/L/N’s grave for you – and I took the liberty of clearing out the flowers you brought last time.”
Y/N’s breath died in her throat as she looked between the old man and her boyfriend, her eyes wide.
Mr. Urokodaki appeared to mistake her shock for confusion. “He’s such a kind lad, your friend!” The old man smiled warmly at Sanemi, before continuing his explanation to her. “He brings flowers not just for his family, but for a woman he knew growing up – like clockwork, every two weeks, for the last year. That’s why I was worried when he didn’t show up last week!”
Sanemi chuckled softly. “I’m back to the regular schedule now, sir!” And he bid the old caretaker farewell. He turned back to his girlfriend, but froze at the expression on her face, mouth slightly open and eyes as round as saucers.
“Y-you, you’ve b-been,” she stuttered, her eyes welling with tears as she began to shake.
Sanemi hesitantly reached for her, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “I’m sorry. I know I should’ve asked, first, but we weren’t talking yet, and I wanted to make sure --,” Sanemi’s explanation was cut off with a small mmph! as Y/N grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and hauled his mouth down to hers.
After a long moment, she broke away. “T-this whole time, ‘Nemi — you —,” Y/N could hardly speak through her tears. Sanemi’s arms wound tightly around her waist, locking her to him as she buried her face into his neck.
Her boyfriend’s lips found her side of her head and he smiled softly into her hair. “Tch, idiot,” he said, affectionately. “I told you already — there hasn’t been a single moment that’s gone by that I haven’t loved you.”
“And I loved her, too.” He added quietly after a moment.
Sanemi’s words only served to make her cry harder, her arms tightening around his neck as she poured every ounce of her love and gratitude into the force with which she hugged him tightly against her.
Y/N couldn’t stop herself from peppering his face with kisses, as Sanemi’s smile stretched wide across his face. The brilliance of his happiness was nearly blinding, but Y/N knew she would never desire to look away from it – from him.
Y/N pulled back to study his face, her hand coming to rest against the side that bore his scars, her thumb gently stroking the one that crossed his nose. “I love you,” she whispered. The tears still shone in her eyes, but beneath them lay a fierce sincerity. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
His lilac irises glimmered with his own emotion at her words, and his hand reached to intertwine with hers once more, the other lifting to brush the last, errant tear that escaped down her cheek.
“C’mon,” he said thickly after a moment, “Don’t wanna keep your Ma waiting.”
Cries. Thanks for reading!
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Trust [Angel Dust x Reader]
Warning: This chapter is a bit heavy. Implications of sex/sexual assault. If Ep4 is rough for you, this chapter would be too. About 2k words
Everyone in Hell knows who Angel Dust is. Famous porn star, stripper, partier. An overlord's pet. Many thought his life to be exciting, or maybe fun. I thought it was sad. I know that life doesn't exude happiness. So when I saw him in the street, I couldn't help but approach. He quickly eyes me up in down, taking in my somewhat timid stance. He smiles, and immediately goes in for the kill.
"Hey gorgeous, can I help you?" He gets close, sliding one of his hands up my arm, one playing with my hair. "Oh...no thank you..." I lift his hand by his finger and give it back to him. "Oh come on, baby cakes, no need to be shy." He insists. "I'm not interested in that, I just wanted to ask...are you okay? Do you need...a hug?" My voice becomes less sure by the second. He immediately scrunches up his face. "What? What kind of weird kink is that?" I can't help but laugh. "Why are you kink shaming? Down here? No, that's not my kink." He crosses his arms. "Then what? You think I need your pity?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"I think you need a little care is all." He just stares at me like I grew three more heads. "You don't have to say anything, I just thought I'd ask, see if you just wanted to talk to someone." I tell him. He looks over me again, much more skeptically this time. "Not to be as forward as you, but what did you do to end up down here? You seem a little too, uhh...soft...to be hanging around here." I smile sadly. "Up there, I was exactly what you are down here." He frowns at the weight in my words. "I hope you have a good day, Angel." I say meaningfully, walking away before he can respond.
~~~~~
The next time I run into Angel is a complete accident. I'm not paying attention to what's in front of me, and I barrel into someone. "Ah shit, what's your prob- oh... it's you." He recognizes. "Yeah, sorry. I was lost in thought. But how are you? How's it going?" I ask politely. He scoffs. "Small talk don't pay the bills." He mutters to himself. "It could."
"I-What? Gonna pay me to talk you? How sad are you?" He deflects, obviously flustered that I'd heard him. "I'd pay if it meant you were safe for a little while." I elaborate. He looks like he's going to make a snarky remark, but stops himself. He sighs, and sits on the curb. I take the place next to him. "How much would you have given to get that offer?" He asks. "Everything." I admit. "I'm sure you can handle yourself, you have to to survive this life, but doesn't mean a break can't help." He shrugs. "You talk like you stopped doing all this."
"... No, I didn't. It's just not so...aggressive? I just don't know anything different. I think I've been getting better. I don't seek it out anymore. I just...don't turn it down. Well except alcohol, but everyone's gotta have a vice right?" He smiles, understanding in his eyes. "You're not like most people are you, sweet cheeks?" He asks. "No. But neither are you. I mean we're pretty similar aren't we? I also would have thought I was a freak." He frowns. "At least your didn't sell your soul for this shit."
"Not down here, no. But I still sold my life away." I shake my head. "You're a good guy, Angel. I hope you find the way out. I'm certain there is one." I get up to go, but he grabs my wrist. We both look at his hand like we're surprised it's there. He blushes a little before letting go. "Sorry, I just-uh, I'd like to see you more."
"I'm good company, huh?" He rolls his eyes, but smiles. He hands me his phone, and I put my contact in. He stands, and wraps four long arms around me. "You were right. I did need a hug." I hug him back, needing it as much as him.
~~~~~
We were fast friends, and didn't wait long to admit we wanted more. On the first date, Angel wanted to come home with me. I told him I was tired. On the second date, I was too busy. Months went by without any action. I didn't want him to think that's all I wanted from him. I wanted him, and myself, to build a relationship built on comfort, trust, and innocence. Not to mention how nervous I am to be that close someone. I could tell he was getting frustrated, and not just sexually. He was a lot more willing to share intimate information then I was. He told me about Valentino, about his time alive, and readily shared his problems. I always answered his questions as vaguely as possible. I'm not used to someone wanting to know, nor am I used to sharing in general. I've always lived with my cards close to my chest. While he had friends that helped break those walls down a bit, I did not.
One night I was waiting at the bar of the hotel for Angel to get home. Valentino had him late. That moth fucker makes me so mad, I could kill him. He'd deserve it for everything he's done. I'm broken out of my murder plans by Husk's voice. "So you and Angel haven't exactly 'consummated the marriage' huh?" I nearly choke on my drink. "Huh? That's random. What-what gives you that idea?" My voice gets all squeaky, my face feels hot. "I'm the bar tender, when people get drunk, they give their problems to me. And right now, his biggest problem is you. He thinks you aren't attracted to him, or he's doing something wrong. Says you don't trust him."
"I didn't mean for him to feel bad, I just wanted him to know I care about him beyond sex! We've both lived lives where that was all there was. And I'm just so scared. I don't want to mess it up, and I want us to be in a place of complete comfort with each other. Obviously I'm attracted to him, have you seen him? There's not exactly a guidebook for all this. I just don't know how to trust, I guess. But that's not his fault." Husk smirks, looking behind me. I turn and find my lover. He's looking at me, mouth agape, through his bedazzled sunglasses. "I...think we need to talk." He says seriously. I simply nod, embarrassed. He takes my hand gently and leads me to his room, away from prying ears.
"Why didn't you just talk to me, (Y/n)? If you just weren't ready, I would obviously understand. Did you seriously think I of all people wouldn't understand?" He throws the glasses on the vanity, and paces anxiously. Okay, he's mad. "Angel, it's not like that."
"Then explain it to me! You don't want to trust me?"
"I do!" He comes over and grabs my hands, he looks at me with the most sincerity I've ever seen. "Then do it. Please." I'm overcome with emotion. "Angel?" He cups my face. "Yes?" I smash my lips to his. It's intense, passionate, incredible. This isn't our first kiss, but it's the first with so much heat. I slide my hands down to the hem of his shirt. He breaks away. "Are you sure?" I nod wordlessly. "Is that okay?" I ask. "Absolutely." He kisses me again and again and again, every action eager. We move to the bed, separating as little as possible
~~~~~
"Fuck, Angel, that was..."
"Mind blowingly amazing?" He says excitedly, almost giggling. I laugh, winded. "Oh yeah. It's been so long since I was really into it, you know?" He pulls me into his arms contently. "Yeah, I get ya, toots."
"(Y/n), can I ask you something personal? I mean, I feel like I share a lot with you, but you're so closed off." He's not wrong, but I don't admit it aloud. "Go ahead." Maybe it's the endorphins, but after all this, I know I can trust him. "How did you die?" I can't help but laugh. "You don't hold back, do you?" I can feel the tears burning in the back of my eyes, and the panic rising within me. I haven't spoken about it since I died, and I never thought I would. Angel senses my oncoming attack, and holds me tighter. "I'm sorry, you don't have to-"
"I was on my own leash. Told me who to sleep with, told me how, controlled what I got out of it. He used me, I was at his beck and call. And one night, I... I couldn't take it anymore. I stood up to him, and he got so mad. He-He started to hit me, throw me around. I was already so weak and sore from the days work, I couldn't fight back." I'm crying, my grip tightening on Angel. "He said I needed to learn my place, said he'd fuck me into place if he had to. He trapped me between himself and the floor, and kept beating me. I was helpless, I was caged. He took his pants off, and it went dark-" I can't take it anymore. I yell out angrily and rip myself out of Angels grasp.
"Don't touch me!" Gasping and breathing erratically, I sit on the edge of the bed clawing at my chest and throat. I refuse to look at Angel, but I can feel his shocked gaze. "Shit! He probably fucked my corpse and threw me in a gutter! He's probably walking around here somewhere." I feel like air is being squeezed out of my chest rather then going in. Am I going to puke? That's be embarrassing. Angel's voice sounds far away until I hear my name.
"(Y/n), stop! I'm here, he's not. You're safe. Listen to me." He doesn't touch me, but slides off the bed to rest in his knees in front of me. He looks so beautiful and innocent. "Breathe for me, darlin. Follow me, okay?" I copy his deep breaths and slow exhales, struggling at first, but eventually I stop shaking. Even more exhausted now, I slump over, and he grabs me. He moves us back to a more comfortable position in the bed, and I nuzzle into him like a lifeline. "I'm so sorry." He whispers. I don't know if he means for asking or for what happened, but I don't ask. He kisses the top of my head, and whispers sweet nothings. "I trust you, Angel."
"I trust you, too."
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