#Oh! They could also be sexually assaulted as well.

[roadimusprime]

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.

[pathologicalreid]

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.”

[cutieln4]

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.

[sweetinsaniiity]

Sick, Little Games

► 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 - psycho!blackmailer!mingi x fem!reader!Y/N ◄ ► 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜/𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 - smut with plot, blackmail, gaslighting, Mingi is kind of a dom!, restraint (via rope), public sex (fingering), semi-exhibitionism, hair-pulling, reluctance, corruption kink, it becomes consensual, creampie, no protection (do NOT do this!), cum swapping/transferring, fluff, falling in love ◄ ► 𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 - MDNI, violence, mentions of rape, sexual assault ◄ ► 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 20K (I swear I tried to make this shorter) ◄ ► 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 - All you wanted was to go home and relax on a Friday night, so you take the subway. There, you encounter a man whose character prevents you from leaving. No seriously, he literally prevents you from leaving by tying a rope on your wrists while holding the other end with his big, strong hands. The rope isn't the only thing those hands will hold tonight. ◄

► 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 - Welp this one is a little darker, let me know if I missed a couple of tags. This is a work of fiction and is not meant to represent Ateez in real life. Join the taglist here. Title from All Time Low. BONUS CHAPTER IS UP! ◄

Home is all I ever wanted to be right now. The thought of my warm, cozy bed with me on it buried under my fluffy blanket is making me walk faster towards my destination - the subway.

I sighed in relief when I noticed there weren't many people, in fact there was literally no one at all except maybe the occasional passing of the cleaners and one man who was standing idly by the edge of the platform, I'm assuming he was also waiting for the next train.

I could feel his eyes staring me down even though I stood ten feet away from him. Maybe he was surprised to see somebody still waiting like him? Either way, when he didn't look away, I knew I had to make small talk to make things less awkward.

"It's finally the weekend now, huh?" I greeted him.

He was tall, maybe at six feet give or take, and he wore jeans partnered with a black blouse underneath a blacker cardigan that hung nicely against his toned frame. 

He tilted his head at me curiously and a slow smirk creeped up on his face. "Yes, it is. What's a lady like you doing out here so late at night?"

"Oh, I have a part time job at the restaurant a couple of blocks away from here, shift ended late," I replied cheerily.

He raised a brow up. "You look awfully young to be working."

"No, well, technically I'm still in university."

"Oh? Where?"

"Seoul University, I'm in my third year."

A slight smile tilted his thick lips upward. "Interesting. I graduated there three or four years ago. How are you liking it so far?"

I glanced at nowhere in particular to give it some thought. "I suppose it's okay," I shrugged, "I only have one year left anyway."

He bit his lips and nodded slowly. "Third year's usually the time when you get sick of what you're doing and you end up hating everything."

I giggled in amusement. "Well that's an interesting way to look at it, you've been in my shoes once so I understand."

He stares at me deeper, his smirk growing wider. "Too harsh?"

"No," I shook my head. "You were just telling the truth."

"I suppose I was," he chuckled. "What's your name?"

"Ah, I'm Y/N," I said without missing a beat. "You?"

He hesitated for a couple of seconds before he replied. "Call me Min for now."

I frowned. That was odd. Your name isn't usually something you think about because it's an automatic response.

"Pretty name for a pretty lady," he coolly puts his hands in his jean pockets.

I grinned at him. "Glad I have your approval, Min. Are you always like this to people you see on the subway?"

I saw a small shiver go through him before he pursed his lips. "Maybe," he shrugged. "You never know who crosses your path one day."

Something about his tone and the way he said it made it sound like he hit the jackpot, but I ignored it. Maybe it was just in my head, I mean, I am pretty tired today.

It got silent again after that. I was finally able to stare at him a little better. 

He was insanely handsome - hot, actually - he had short, dark hair that was equally messy and slicked back neatly, and it didn't help that he wore these black, thick, squared type glasses, and it made him look so charismatic.

I looked at him again when his deep voice startled me. "I don't mean to bother you, but do you have the time on you?"

A mild shiver passed through me, the good kind. His voice was deep. I cleared my throat. "Uh yeah, sure, give me a second..."

He hummed while I took a glance at my phone. I saw him eyeing the phone. "It's a quarter past 10."

He nodded in response, dragging a heavy sigh. "Getting impatient?" I asked in amusement. He scoffed softly.

"Patience is a virtue," I joked.

His sharp eyes pierce my doe-like ones, darkening significantly. "I am not known for my patience," he smirked.

I frowned at his bizarre choice of words, about to retort something profound back, but the distinct sounds of the oncoming train made me swallow my words.

"About damn time," I muttered.

"Patience is a virtue," he mocked.

He started walking towards me with slow, but long strides. He didn't break eye contact with me while doing so, and my heart started erratically breathing. The way he walked reminded me of a predator stalking its prey.

I brushed my own thoughts off, that was just absurd. I tried to calm myself by breathing in and out and by the time he reached where I was standing, the train was almost here anyway, so I just ignored him.

Suddenly, I felt him wrap his arm around my waist from behind me. I gasped loudly when his hand squeezed the fleshy part of my waist painfully.

"What the hell are you doing, Min?" I growled, turning my head around to scowl at him, but it was no use. Besides the fact that he was tall, his firm chest pushed out and prevented me from looking at him.

"Don't move," he whispered, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine, the bad kind.

He pulled me flush against him and now my back was completely touching his frontal body. It sent my body on overdrive and I thrashed this time to try to get free, but it was no use.

"I said," he put his other hand on my shoulder. "Don't move."

The train stopped, the door directly in front of us. I was petrified at this point. This man can do anything to me and none would be the wiser.

After what seemed like forever, the train finally departed and that's when I snapped out of whatever trance I was in. 

"Wait, don't go!" I wailed at the moving train, but it was no use. I despaired, that was the last ride until the next day.

I heard him chuckle from behind me, I felt his chest rumbling at the sound. It all happened so fast; one second he turned me around to face him and the next thing I knew he was tying a rope around my wrists as tightly as he could.

"Should've been louder, maybe someone could have heard you," he paused, looking down on me with his sharp eyes. "Then again, I would have just covered that pretty mouth anyway."

"Wait, please don't do this," I whimpered.

"Why not?" he asked, not stopping from tying a series of complicated knots on my wrists, each tug tighter than before it, but surprisingly, it didn't hurt.

"What do you mean why not?" I couldn't help but snap at him. "You're insane!"

He didn't respond, he unfurrowed his thick brows, once he was done with the last knot. He, then, wrapped the other end of the rope with his own hand.

His face didn't give away any sort of emotion as we stared at each other with what seemed like an eternity. I grew fearful of this man, there was no way I could fight him because he was much, much bigger than me even if I tried.

I tried to back away, but there was only so much I could do because the rope would stop me and tug me back.

"Don't come any closer," I raised my hands, or rather, my fists since my wrists were bound together.

He tilted his head inquisitively, still staring at me impassively. I panicked, tugging my hands as hard as I could and wiggling my wrists to try and loosen the thick rope, but all it did was give me rug burns. He sighed, tugging the rope once, making me pause at my ministrations.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked in a small voice.

Shrugging, he tugged on the rope again, this time a little forcefully, but not enough for me to get dragged to him. 

"No, wait, please," I pulled my hands harder, stronger, making his brows rise. "Please take it off, I-I'll give you money."

He smirked. "No."

"But--"

"No offense, angel, but I will probably make what you make in two weeks within a day."

"So you don't need me then," I laughed nervously. "Please, just take it off, I won't tell anybody."

Crossing his arms, he shook his head. "I'm not taking it off."

"Why?" I was scared, nervous, desperate at this point.

Min tugged the rope for real this time, I had no choice but to walk to him begrudgingly.

"Because I don't want to," he whispered. He was so close that I could smell the minty gum he was chewing on. "Come here."

He had the audacity to smile at me as he pulled me against his chest again, this time, facing him with my tied wrists between us. "Much better," he mumbled.

I narrowed my eyes on him. "Is this what you do in your spare time? Do you always have a rope on you?"

He raised a brow in amusement. "No. First time actually."

I tried to wiggle away from his vice grip. "Please don't hurt me."

"Never," he shook his head.

"So let me go," I pleaded.

I swallowed, my blood running cold against my veins. There was only one thing I could think of, then. His eyes roamed over my face, as if he knew what I was thinking.

"I'm not going to do whatever you're thinking," he sighed. "I'm not going to fuck you."

"Kind of hard not to assume you're not going to force yourself on me," I chuckled with no humour, cheeks blushing at his crudeness.

"Only if you want to," he grinned. He sighed when he saw no response on my end. "I will not hurt you so long as you don't fight me."

"Let me go then."

"No. I'm not going to repeat myself." It was a flat declaration and there was an underlying threat in his voice. 

"How long are you going to take me captive then?"

"Assuming that I'll even let you go in the first place," he shrugged.

I stared at him in horror. I felt his hand on my arm, the ghost of his touch tickling me, higher and higher up until it reached my hair. He stroked my hair  like a parent soothing their child. 

I gasped when he slightly tugged on it, I was expecting a sting on my scalp, but nothing. He went back to stroking my hair again, then tugging it ever so slightly. I made the mistake of sighing at his touch.

"You like that?" he murmured.

I didn't respond. I felt confused like I have never been before. Not to say that I'm happy that I was a prisoner in his arms, but my body began relaxing before I knew it.

He started tracing random patterns on my back, rendering me even more confused. Strands of my hair were also tucked behind my ear. "Pretty," he murmured again. "It would be a shame if I just..."

I groaned when he tugged my hair a little harder, enough for me to look up at him, but not enough for him to pull my hair out. "Ow!"

"Stop trying to untie them," he pointed at the wrists. "It's not going to work."

I gritted my teeth aggressively. Damn it, I thought, I thought he wouldn't notice me tinkering with the rope as he played with my hair and touched my back. 

My eyes widened when he slowly leaned forward, his face getting close to mine. I panicked, a short burst of adrenaline rushed through me as I pulled myself free from his grasp.

I swung my fists forward, a shocked look passed through Min's face, barely missing his face he quickly ducked down to avoid my hit. I squeaked when he grasped my wrists painfully and pushed me away rather roughly.

"Not bad," he laughed. "That would have been really bad if you actually hit me, yes?"

I ran off in a hurry, but quickly got stopped by the restriction the rope gave me. I hissed in pain, it had managed to dig into my skin a bit and leave red, angry welts on it.

Min frowned at me, his eyes softening as he stared at me trying to soothe the pain. He stood looking at me a few feet apart, his hand outstretched a bit towards my direction as if he wanted to beckon me over.

"You," I exhaled. "You stay where you're at, and stay away from me."

His lips twitched up in delight. "Or what?"

I blabbered like a fish, my mouth agape as my brain went into overdrive. What the hell is wrong with this man? I must've said that aloud, because the way he grinned at me with a look of amusement was making me nervous.

"I'm going to scream," I informed him.

He smiled. "Go ahead."

And so I did. I screamed, I yelled, I shouted, I screeched like a banshee like my life depended on it - well, technically, it does - and I did this for five minutes straight, but nothing. 

I wasn't soft at it either, I was yelling. Min was leaning on a nearby wall with his arms crossed, silently watching me and letting me do my thing.

I was extremely frustrated at this point. Now that I think about it, it's extremely abnormal to have absolutely nobody around, but then, I remembered that it was a Friday night and everybody was either already resting or getting drunk out of their minds. It didn't help that the subway was also underground.

"It's just you and me, doll face," he stated, biting his bottom lip and chewing on it a bit. "Save yourself the trouble."

"You can't possibly keep me here forever," I scoffed at him.

He nodded slowly in acknowledgement. "I don't see why that's a bad idea."

"If you think I'm not going to put up a fight with you, then you're sorely mistaken," I sarcastically remarked, pausing when I felt my wrists sting again.

"I'd like to see you try," he chuckled, the sound of his raspy voice echoing all over the station. It further solidified the emptiness of the place.

I thought about my next move carefully. He doesn't want money, and to be fair, I had nothing much to offer anyway. He's calm and collected, that means he knows exactly what he is doing. He has a rope, for God's sake, what else can possibly have?

"I'd really like to go home now, I'm exhausted and I have no time for your games, Min, seriously," I pleaded, hoping to try my luck on the poor damsel distress act.

"You don't really have to do anything," he shrugged. "I'm not going to make you do what you don't want to do."

I raise my brow at him with a sarcastic lift of my tied hands. He laughed a little. "That doesn't count," he laughed, his chest rising up and down.

I scoffed loudly. "What?" I barked. "Are you for real? How deranged are you? Why are you really doing this?"

He watched me intently, staring at me directly in the eye without blinking. His sharp eyes made me so uncomfortable, like he was undressing me from where I stood just by the motion of his eyes.

His lips lift into a smirk. "Because I can."

Steam started coming out of my ears. I don't care if he kills me or does whatever he wants, I was mad. "Really? Is your birthstone crystal meth?" I sassed, rolling my eyes at him to emphasize my point.

Min raises his brows so high his thick glasses couldn't cover them, then he looks down on the floor, but not before I saw the smallest smile on his face. It was probably the most genuine one I've seen tonight. He was trying not to laugh. 

"What a mouth you have, you sweet little thing," he chuckled. "How about you come closer to me right now?"

"But you said you're not going to make me do things I don't like," I frowned.

His sharp eyes narrowed, staring into my wary ones. "And I stand by that."

He pointed at my wrists with his index finger. I didn't realize he was wearing a lot of rings on his hands, but this one in particular had a nice black ring. "That looks like that hurts."

I stared down at my wrists. Indeed, they were close to being ugly and painful blisters because of how much friction I was causing them, friction I barely noticed because of the adrenaline rush and survival instinct to free myself of this damned thing.

"It does," I admitted. "Because you're letting me suffer by not letting me go."

He shook his head. "That's a strong word. I can make it better," he offered softly.

"How?"

A sly smirk makes its way on his plump lips. He pats the wall beside him, his stare not wavering a bit. "Come," he said softly.

I rolled my eyes so hard I was surprised they didn't get stuck behind my head. "Absolutely not," I snapped. "I'd rather let my wrists rot."

"You sure?"

He was waving a tube of a familiar generic ointment you'd see everywhere, the cocky twinkle in his eyes palpable. I gulped, the stinging sensation on my skin getting a bit more intense at the sight of what could be temporary relief on my end.

But alas, I chose to turn around and ignore him. I heard him sigh loudly from behind me and the distinctness of his cardigan rustling as he moved from his position.

"Seriously now," he began. When I still had my back turned on him and still completely ignoring him, he sneered. "Alright, whatever, I guess."

I peered over at him and saw him leaning back on the wall with his arms crossed again, staring me down. I hissed loudly when I accidentally angled my arm wrong, causing the rope to dig in a bit and rub against the sensitive parts of my skin.

"Fine," I scowled. I held my hand out in the air. "Toss it."

He laughed, his deep, hoarse voice booming towards me. If he wasn't such a jerk, I might have found that sexy. He grinned, taunting me by wiggling his fingers back and forth. 

"No, no, no, sweetie pie," he sneered. "You're going to come here and get it from me."

The colour from my face drained. I bit my lip apprehensively, and I didn't miss the dark and dismal look in his eyes. I don't want to go to him in case he does something shady, but is it better than being restrained?

I scowled at him. Unfortunately, nothing was better than this. My legs felt like lead, heavily treading towards him. He gave me an amused look because I had to crane my head upwards just so I could look at him.

I couldn't help the blush that reddened my ears. Darn this man, he was unfairly good looking. The way he looked at me made my insides flip upside down with anticipation and I did not like it one bit.

"Well?" I asked impatiently.

"Actually," he clicked his tongue. "I don't think so."

My brain had a major explosion. I widened my eyes at him. "That deal has already sailed," he smiled, patting my nose with his finger. "My God, you're cute," he commented when I grimaced at him.

"Please, they really hurt," I whined. I wasn't lying at this point, I had sensitive skin due to eczema and the littlest irritation can lead to the worst flare ups that usually last from a couple of weeks to a month depending on how bad they get.

He stared at me with a blank expression, though it is not to be mistaken with nonchalance, no. I can tell he was already calculating in his head on what he should do next.

He puts a finger on his chin, lightly stroking his thumb over it as his scorching gaze pierced through mine. I gulped when he suddenly brought his glasses lower on the bridge of his nose as his eyes peered from above the thick glasses.

His eyes were much sharper than I thought they were when the glasses weren't obstructing them. I had this urge to fold in on myself when he studied me deeper. I have never felt this exposed in my entire life before and I was fully clothed. Warmth spread on my entire lower groin.

"Hands up," he instructed, pushing his glasses back up. I was told and he held the knots that bound me. "I'm going to untie you so I can apply the ointment."

Before I could celebrate the tiny hope he had given me, he continued. "If you try to run away," he said softly, still looking at me. "I'm going to force you back. I don't want to hurt you."

I nodded. His fingertips trace my whole arm, smirking when he noticed the goosebumps he had caused, all the way down to my wrists. My breath hitched when he blew on my blistering skin to attempt to calm the redness down.

"I know it hurts," he whispered, his tone soothing my ears with tenderness. "Hold still, yeah? I promise I'll be gentle..."

He worked on the complicated knots he had made, tugging at them until they slowly loosened. He gently and carefully lifted the rope off and caressed the sensitive skin underneath, and just like that I was untied.

Then I made a run for it.

I ran as far as my legs could carry me, and before I knew it I had ran deeper into the isolated part of the station, but I didn't care as long as I could get away from that lunatic. I'll find somewhere temporary to hide and wait until he leaves so I can---

I screamed when I felt strong arms wrap around my waist, and before I knew it, I was lifted up and hoisted over Min's left shoulder, my bottom up in the air and my legs flailing around.

"Put me down!" I cried, hitting his back with my fists angrily. 

"Behave."

I shut my mouth at his clipped tone. I did, however, let out another scream in surprise when I felt his hand come down my behind harshly.

Spanking my ass was definitely the last thing I thought he'd do in this ridiculous situation. I was tempted to smack his butt back since it was literally in front me, but I decided against it.

"You're being an awfully naughty girl right now, don't you think?" I can practically hear the smirk on his voice as he walked a bit.

I was set down rather delicately, but I can't say the same when he pushed me against a nearby wall because it was rough. I whimpered when he grabbed my hands and put them up and also pressed them against the wall.

"What are you going to do to me?" I whispered.

He was so close to my face, so close that if he only leaned a bit our lips would touch. "What would you like me to do to you?" he asked, his voice huskier than normal.

"Let me go."

"Except that."

"I will report you to the authorities, someone has to find us eventually," I threatened, or at least that's how it sounded in my ear.

He tilted his head in amusement. "With what information?"

He was right. I only have a first name, but not a family name. He laughed, but his grin didn't quite reach his eyes. "You can tell them the name I gave you, if that is even my real name, then yes, by all means, sweetheart."

I mustered up the courage to speak. "So what is it, then?"

"Why do you wanna know? So you can scream it for me?"

I looked at him in disgust. "Seriously," I rolled my eyes.

He chuckled lightly. "Hands. And no running."

This time he actually applied the ointment for real on my hands. The way he spread the soothing balm all over the affected area made me sigh in relief, to which he smiled. If we weren't in the most unusually messed up situation right now, I might have swooned at how sweet he was being.

He was a wolf in sheep's clothing, however. The rope was back on my wrists, albeit looser this time.

"Are you going to tell me your real name?" I inquired as we both sat down on the filthy floor of the subway station, our backs leaning against the cool wall.

He met my eyes, the brown orbs analyzing me. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"You're insufferable."

"What are you willing to give me in return?"

I paused, genuinely thinking about it for a moment. I sighed in defeat when I couldn't think of literally anything. But his smirk told me otherwise.

"What are you doing?" I asked apprehensively at his onslaught.

My eyes widened when his fingers traced my cheeks, down to my jawline, and towards my lips. I was frozen on the spot. "You should moisturize your lips often, love," he whispered. 

He pulls on my bottom lip and gently sticks his fingertips in between my lips. "Open up for me."

I put my bound hands on top of his to attempt to push him away, but he was stronger. "Are you being serious right now?" I gaped at him.

"Tick tock, the deal won't be on the table for long," he shrugged.

I glared at him. "You'll give me what I want if I do it?"

His smirk widens. "Yes."

I sighed in defeat, opening up my mouth ever so slightly, but his long, thick fingers forced them to open wider anyway. Butterflies started to form in my stomach and I looked everywhere except him. God, this felt weirdly intimate for some reason.

"Suck."

"Now hold on just a minute," I backed away, effectively swatting his hand away in annoyance. "You did not just ask me to do what I thought you did."

"But I did," he replied cockily.

"I can't believe you!" I exclaimed, incredulous at the ridiculous request. 

I was so annoyed at this point and I wanted nothing but to bang my head against the concrete floor after I banged his.

"You know what to do if you want something out of me," he was tracing my lips again with his finger.

I heaved a long sigh, swallowing all the pride I had and grabbed his arm and with that, I put his index, middle, and ring finger in my mouth while I maintained eye contact with him.

He stared at me with hooded eyes, his gaze significantly darkening with every passing second. He let out a deep groan when I made slurping sounds as I lapped his fingers like it was the tastiest thing I have ever had. I swirled my tongue all over his fingers and even gave his palm a lick.

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down repeatedly, especially when I bit his fingers softly. I alternated between that, licking, and as well as sucking. I was definitely being filthy with it, and it was absolutely humiliating to do whatever this was.

His other hand pushes my head off gently and he withdraws his fingers from my mouth. He sighed sensually when my drool dripped down from his fingers to all over his hand. 

"Here," his voice was thick. I froze when he traced my lips again, but this time, he coated them with my own saliva. "Now they're not dry anymore," he smirked.

He didn't stop there. I stopped breathing when he put the very same fingers in his own mouth. He chuckled at my dumbfounded expression.

The desire that flashed through his eyes took me aback a little when I realized I was trying to discern his taste by smacking my mouth obnoxiously. I blushed, I wasn't doing it on purpose, he had this salty, sensual taste to him that took my breath away.

"So, uhm, what is it?" I questioned, not missing the tremor my voice now held.

"Oh. It's Song."

I waited a couple of seconds for him to continue, but when I realized that he wasn't going to, my patience thinned significantly. "That's it?" I hissed. "Song what?"

"That wasn't part of the deal, you have to be specific next time," he shrugged with his eyes closed, but I can see a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Ugh! Have you no shame?!"

He slowly opened his eyes, staring at me intently, then leaned a little closer to my face. "If I did," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave lower. "You wouldn't be here right now."

I instinctively leaned away from him. "At least you're aware ," I mumbled.

It must be closer to midnight now, I can feel it, we've been at this ridiculous game of cat and mouse for a while now. I sighed deeply while I pictured my cat, King, waiting for me home. It's a good thing I overfilled his water and snack bowl today, I just had a gut feeling. Unfortunately, I was correct.

"Penny for your thoughts, water lily?" he asked all of a sudden.

I scoffed, not even bothering to look at him. "None of your damn business," I spat.

"That's too bad," he chuckled. "I was hoping to barter an exchange with you again."

That made my ears perk up and my eyes twinkle, but I wasn't buying it. He's cunning, sly, and manipulative. There was no way in hell I was trusting anything he said at this point.

A certain slashing sound sliced through the air and in my peripheral vision, I saw Min holding something in his hand and twirling it around like it was a toy.

I whipped my head back towards him in curiosity and his smirk grew wider at the small gasp I let out.

"Change your mind yet?" he questioned with a beam.

There was a softness to his appearance in conjunction to his rugged features. Truth be told, he was probably the most attractive man I have ever seen in my life and I don't think I will ever find another one that will come close.

I scoffed. "Not only do you have a rope, but you also have a pocket knife on you like it's the most normal thing in the entire world." 

I groaned, swinging my head back and the back of it against the wall in frustration. "What the hell is happening to me lately," I cursed.

I felt something soft instead of the hard wall when I leaned back again.

"What can I say? Having both is part of my work," he muttered, his hand sandwiched between my head and the wall. "Stop before you hurt yourself."

"Work? Well, what are you? A mobster?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He blinked at me a couple of times before he burst out laughing. He was actually laughing, and my heart jumped at the pleasant sound. I stared at him as his body vibrated with mirth, his eyes formed into these tiny crescent as they disappeared from his mouth stretched out in a charming grin. Even his laugh was so damn attractive.

"Why?" he grinned, wiping an imaginary tear from underneath his glasses with the same hand that held hy head from the wall. "Do I look like one to you?"

"I don't know," I shrugged, frowning at him. "Are you?"

He surveyed me when he calmed down, gauging I was serious at knowing the answer to my question, but after a moment, he shook his head as he watched me carefully.

"No," he denied with a small smile.

Another laugh escaped him when he saw my irritated expression and amusement was all his eyes showed as he watched me try to cross my arms but failed since my hands were literally bound together and it was borderline impossible to even do anything remotely close.

"Uncomfortable?" he clicked his tongue.

I glared at him intensely. "What do you think?" I hissed, extremely annoyed at the fact that I can't even do anything. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

He nodded in acknowledgement. "I am," he replied, angering me. "Very much so, actually. But I'd enjoy it more if you'd just give in to me."

"Not a chance," I jeered with an aggravated sigh. "So if Min isn't your real name, what do I call you then?"

"Min's good for now," he shrugged, twirling the knife again expertly in his nimble hands. "And what a shame, I can be good for you, you know?"

I wanted nothing but to slap the smug look on his face to oblivion. "I think I can live without knowing what that's like," I snorted.

His brows knit together. "Suit yourself," he shrugged. "I guess we'll be here for a while."

When he saw me glaring daggers, no pun intended, at the small pocket knife he held in his hands, he twirled them faster, tempting me to just stand up and kick his balls as hard as humanly possible so I could get it.

But along that was the underlying fear that I truly didn't know what he truly wanted with me. That, alone, makes me even more terrified of being here.

I gulped apprehensively and his face switched to something else when he noticed. "You're not going to use that on me, are you?" I pointed at the blade.

He shook his head. "No. Not now, not ever. I told you, I'm not going to hurt you. I don't want to hurt you."

"Besides," he continued. "If you come to me by force, then I don't want it."

He smirked at me suggestively, to which I scoffed softly, but loud for him to hear. "I'm too good for you," I rolled my eyes at him.

Well. Not entirely. In any normal circumstances, someone like him wouldn't even be in the same room as me. I couldn't point my finger at it at first, but a man this self-assured and dauntless must be someone of higher authority and money, I was sure of it.

"That, you are, my peach," he agreed. Something surges in his eyes when he noticed the blush that covered my cheeks.

God, his eyes. There was a lifetime of struggle in there that has never been put into words. His face in general, he was out of my league.

He glances at my bound wrists and for a second, I thought he was going to set me loose. My eyes widened when he put the sheath back on the blade and set it aside, instead.

"What?" he taunted. "You don't want to cooperate."

I closed my eyes tightly and took a deep breath in defeat. "I'm at a total loss right now. You want me to exchange you something, correct?"

He nods enthusiastically. "But not the knife?" I quipped.

"I don't want to let you go yet," he shook his head.

"I am aware..."

A small smile forms on his face as his brows shoot up, waiting for me to continue. "But I have nothing more to offer you," I rambled. "I have nothing on me that will interest you."

"And that, my little dove," he hummed. "Is where you're wrong."

Hot, red anger coursed through my veins when he dug into the pockets of his black cardigan and took out my wallet.

"Where did you even get that?" I seethed.

He shrugged. "Take a wild guess."

I wanted to scream in disbelief. He must've gotten his hands on it when he carried me earlier. I had a terrible habit of putting my wallet in the back pocket of any pants I wore.

"Even if I let you go, how would you get home?" he said. "Taking the subway meant you lived a decent distance from here."

He was right. Walking was out of the question because if I did, I would walk three hours. The subway cut the journey into half an hour.

I stared at him, calculating how I would get my wallet out of his claws and taking him down at the same time.

"Don't even think about it," he laughed. "I'm much bigger than you, and you know it."

"What do you want, Min?" I sighed in desperation. "Tell me what is it that you want so you can let me go, what do you want from me?"

He tilted his head to meet my eyes, slowly jutting his arms out to reach towards me and touch my chin lightly. He titled my face gently in his direction, and I was able to meet his eye as well.

"I want you," he spoke softly. "You would think that tying you up would make that very obvious."

I couldn't look away from his burning gaze even if I tried; I could have held it forever. His eyes were dangerously penetrating, he looked pure male at this very moment.

"Tying me up is not the solution, though, you psycho," I frowned at him.

"Humour me this," he uttered, waving his hands in the air as he spoke. "It's almost midnight and when you get to the sub, there's a big, scary man waiting in there, wanting to say hi..."

He paused, waiting for me to internalize the imagery. When it dawned on me, I sighed. "See what I mean, babygirl?" he chuckled.

"Don't call me that," I snapped. "Also your logic is ass."

He smirked, ignoring my statement. "Call you what?"

My scowls deepened when his eyes slowly trailed down from my eyes to my chest. He laughed when I lifted my wrists to attempt to hide them, but there was no point. I growled for him to look away, but of course, he was who he was and he only stared at me, not saying anything back. 

His gaze wasn't uncomfortable, rather, there was a hint of wonder in them and it made my breathing constricted and shallow.

I know that look - it was scheming. The lasciviousness in which he stared at me was shamefully making my core ache, the patch of wetness staining my underwear was proof enough.

He sat straighter and his form, especially his upper torso, became bigger. He inched closer to me. "Kiss me," he whispered breathily.

There was a bomb that went off in my brain. I blinked owlishly at him. "Excuse me?"

He bit his lip to stop himself from smiling. "You heard me, Y/N. I want you to want me."

He licked his lips, his eyes clouding over when I shivered involuntarily when his deep, sultry voice said my name like he was praying for me to say yes.

His brows raise and his eyes widen a bit when I start to advance, leaning my face very slowly towards his face. His Adam's apple bobs up and down and his eyes flutter close as he held his breath.

Instead, I went to his ear as closely as possible and whispered, "Go kiss the wall instead, you sick fuck."

I didn't know what else to say, but more so, I didn't want him to see that he was getting to me little by little. He was manipulative, calculating, and conniving.

"God," he let out a groan that sounded like a tortured animal. He closed his eyes tightly as if in pain. "You're such a tease, little tart..."

He banged his head a couple of times on the same wall he stopped me from banging my head down. He rested his head on it for a while.

I couldn't help but stare at his face and how peaceful it looked when his face was relaxed. I couldn't believe this was the cocky and arrogant man that held me hostage.

He suddenly opened his eyes and they were darker than I previously saw, his smirk was dirtier too. "I'll give you your wallet back if you kiss me."

"Are you kidding me? Seriously?" I shrieked exasperatedly. "This is essentially blackmailing!"

"Call it whatever you want," he grinned. "But yes, I do agree."

"Now you're just doing this on purpose! You're going to get what you want anyway, why don't you just do it?"

He paused, his brow raised. "Okay," he shrugged.

Before I can process what was happening, Min lifted me from the ground and placed me on his lap, and now, I was straddling him. His heavy eyes were the last thing I saw before he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me towards his lips.

"Wait--"

I whined on his lips, trying my very best to push his hard chest with my fists, but all that did was instigate him to wrap his arms around me and pull me even closer.

Surprisingly, he wasn't rough with it, but he wasn't gentle either - just desperate. I felt his tongue lick my lips, pushing them apart. He moaned lowly when I wasn't giving in, and his moan got louder when I unconsciously scratched his chest at those unholy sounds.

"Baby, please let me in," he rasped, his lips giving mine little kitten pecks as he spoke through the kiss. "Here, take this."

He momentarily broke the kiss and put my wallet in my pockets for me. I was frozen, I could feel both of our heartbeats going very fast, and I gasped when his hand squeezed my hips firmly.

"I can't do this," I said breathlessly.

He hushed me, leaning in and kissing my jawline slowly. I tensed under his touch, and he stops to hold my face between his hands.

"Relax," his breath was shallow as he looked me in the eye. His intense eyes lingered on my nervous face. "I'll be gentle, okay? Just give in to me, kitten, please."

He was about to lean again, but his black glasses kept hindering the movement. He cursed under his breath as he tried to adjust it.

"Take it off for me," he demanded, his voice taut.

"How?" I gulped, my brain blank with all the overwhelming sensation he was giving me.

"Use your teeth."

Panic started to take over my body. I could feel it trying to push itself out of my stomach, my chest, my throat, my head. I wanted to throw up. I whimpered when his hand went up to my waist and pressed on it, a jolt of pleasure shot down to my clenching wetness.

I swallowed, leaning towards his face, tingles spreading through my scalp as his eyes never left me as I took the black frame in between my teeth and spit it out.

I gasped when I saw his eyes, not because of how heated and impassioned they were, but because of what they literally looked like - dark, seductive, desperate.

I felt my heart constricting tightly. He was painfully beautiful, and looked so dangerous.

"Come here," he growled, crashing his lips against mine once more.

I gasped in pain when he roughly tugged my hair back. I was so taken aback when he forcefully put his tongue in. I refused to let my tongue play with his, mewling and struggling from his hold.

"Oh," I moaned quietly when he bit my lower lip, suckling it gently with a force that knocked the air out of me.

"You're insane, doll, the woman you are," he voice was thick with lust. "You're turning me on even more."

"Stop!" I squealed in abrupt pleasure when his hips bucked up, his hardening erection suddenly pressing on my clothed mound.

An animalistic growl tore out from his chest when he dominantly grabbed my ass and started pushing me in and out, manually grinding me on his hardness fast and hard.

"Oh my fucking God," he grunted, burying his face on the crook of my neck as he pulled me harder. "Oh, God, oh, shit.."

I was moaning along with him, pathetically savouring the feel of my warm heat dry humping his bulging hardness. I was ashamed of myself, for imagining how big he was based on how he felt. 

The only thing to be heard in the empty subway station was our breaths, filthy kissing sounds, and the obscene moans from the both of us. Desire flowed through us, causing our bodies to melt against one another

He pulled away for a moment and I blushed at how red his face was and how bruised his lips already were. "I need to touch you," he croaked. "Can I touch you? I--"

"Hey, did you hear that?"

Cold reality washed over me as if a bucket of freezing ice was poured from my head in one go. I pushed him as hard as I could, as hard as my shame would take me, crawled out of his lap with disgust.

"Wait," he hissed, grabbing me by the arm as he stood up. I whimpered at his demeaning tone, but also how roughly he held my arm. 

"Silence," he growled at me. "There's people in here."

The look on his eyes as he stood up and looked around, surveying the area to find the source of the random voice we just heard from the distance was alarming, and they frightened me.

I was disconcerted, I just made out with this man, and how was now compared to what he looked like underneath me was a contrasting difference. His sharp eyes were terrifying, one look will have you submitting to his control.

I paled. I had almost forgotten was dangerous this man actually was - that I was his prey to consume, and he was determined to play with his food before he devoured it.

He pulled me in front of him, pushing me lightly as he guided me to walk until he reached a dark corner that would hide us from anyone. It's not the best hiding spot, but it was the fastest we could find.

But wait a minute, why were we hiding?

It was as if he knew what I was thinking and he covered my mouth with his hand before I could muster up a scream.

"Do not," he warned. "Nobody goes in this area unless they're looking for something," he paused, tensing up behind me. "Or someone."

My eyes widened when it clicked. He was right, this area was a well known spot for mob deals and other shady businesses. It was an unspoken secret that everyone knew, but chose not to comment on. An infamous eight-membered group ruled this area frequently, and while they never deemed terror, their name alone sparked chills on everyone.

Footsteps got closer and closer until there were two people who stood on the spot where me and Min were sitting down. I froze, they were mobsters - the black suits gave it away.

"I could have sworn I heard something in this area," a man with a shorter stature murmured, looking around in the darkness with a stony face.

"'Have' is the keyword," the other taller man with the most intimidating face mocked. "I'm going to kill him when I find him."

"Relax, Seonghwa. Don't get your panties in a twist."

The taller one, Seonghwa, glared hard at his companion. "And I'm going to kill you with him, Hongjoong, if you don't shut your face."

My captor scoffed lightly behind me, his breath fanning my ear. I elbowed him to shut up, and his jerk reaction was to tighten his hold on me. I wanted to scream, I didn't even notice his arms around me.

I felt him lift my hair up and move it to the side to expose my neck. I dug my nails on his arms at the pleasure he gave my sweet spots.

"You smell so good," he whispered sensually, sucking on my neck. I stifled a moan when he bit hard. "I want to hear you so bad," he groaned.

While the two mobsters bickered back and forth, there was me and Min hiding in a dark corner, hoping to not be seen, yet he's making it utterly difficult.

I staggered backwards, my mind swirling with nothing but bliss, my breaths shallow and heavy. His hands slowly trekked upwards..

"Wait no, please, we can't do this here," I pleaded, quickly stopping his hand from fondling my tits.

"We sure can," he pushed my hand away forcefully, but I used my other hand to scratch him. 

His body stiffened. "That wasn't very nice of you," he jeered. I gulped.

My paranoia triggered when his other hand wrapped around my throat, choking the words out of me. Whatever false sense of hope I had that he wouldn't hurt me when out the window.

"You've been testing me, little doll, and quite frankly?" He was indifferent, his voice not betraying his emotions. "I am getting sick and tired of it."

"Please," I whimpered when he squeezed the sides of my neck. "It doesn't feel good..."

He chuckled, something sinister lay brewing underneath. "But it does, don't lie to me."

I clawed his hand repeatedly, but he wasn't budging. "You said you wouldn't force me to do what I didn't want," I cried quietly.

"I know," he agreed. "But your eyes are telling me otherwise."

He pulled on the rope, forcing my wrists down permanently, as he went and did whatever his desires told him to do.

"Are you gonna be good if I let your neck go?" he asked in a deceptively soft voice. I nodded apprehensively. "That's a good girl."

He unbuttoned my blouse just enough for my bra to get exposed, and I had to suppress a moan when cold air hit my skin, but not for long as Min's hand hastily pushed my bra down to fully expose my average sized tits.

Soft groans escaped him as he roughly fondled them in his hands and I couldn't help my own groans. "Hush," he kissed my neck. "You don't want them to hear you."

He put his fingers at my open mouth and I used them to plug the sounds of pleasure threatening to spill out of me. God, his rough hands felt too good against my skin.

His mouth was on mine again as he held my stiff nipples with his nimble fingers. It sent jolts of desire all over my body.

"Do you feel good?" he murmured in between the kisses. When I ignored him, he bit my lower lip. "Answer me, love."

"Mhhm," I hummed, and he seemed to let that go for now.

I gasped when he squeezed them hard, the overstimulation of him alternating between rough and tender almost made me want to come undone. All I could do was mewl as he toyed with my body.

"I'll go to the other corner, Joong. Keep looking there," I heard Seonghwa mutter before his footsteps receded. I almost forgot they were still here.

"Doesn't the thrill feel good?" Min smirked, attacking my neck again and leaving pretty bruises on them.

"For you," I sighed. "You're the only one enjoying it. Seriously, how can you do this? How can you take advantage of me while we're supposed to be hiding from the mafia?"

"Ever so sarcastic, my pretty princess," he snorted.

While one hand massaged my tits, the other went south - going lower, lower, and lower until I felt him stop at the hem of my pants. My heart rate picked up.

"You're going to enjoy it too," he said softly. "I'm going to touch you, okay? I want to feel you, I need it so bad..."

The desperation in his voice caught me off guard, it shamefully made my pussy clench onto nothing as wetness covered it entirely.

"A-And if I say no?" I stuttered.

"I will push you out and give you to those two turds out there."

My blood ran cold. "You wouldn't," I gasped. He wouldn't let two mobsters who can kill me take me, right?

"My queen," he whispered, possessively pulling me closer in the tight space we were hiding in. "Remember this, I have never, and never will, given you opportunities where there was no way out of them."

I gulped. He was right, and I hated him for it, but that's what made him manipulative - he would give me these options that he carefully crafted and no matter what I chose, it will always end up with him getting what he wanted one way or another.

These options weren't for me to feel safe; he was merely giving me a chance to do things the easy way or the hard way, but either way, they were still his way.

"You were doomed the moment I laid my eyes on you," he stated darkly. "Oh, my sweet little peach..."

I closed my eyes tightly as he worked his way inside my pants, cupping the throbbing heat of my core. He nudged my legs apart with his foot, but I wasn't giving up.

"I'm not going to hurt you, okay?" he exhaled a sharp breath. "Relax, love, I'm going to make you feel good, I promise."

"I'm scared," I whimpered with raw honesty. Danger was still looming around us with Hongjoong and Seonghwa lingering around the area.

He didn't reply, instead he brushed his plump lips all over my neck and my now exposed shoulders. I couldn't help the tiny moans coming out of me as he worshiped my body gently. I suppose it worked, it calmed me down.

I heard his sharp intake of breath followed by a throaty moan when I leaned my head back against his shoulder so he could have access to my neck. "Stay like this," he groaned.

"Please," I choked when his fingers pushed my underwear apart and gently rubbed my slit up and down.

He grunted deeply, hungrily. "This is for me, yes?"

I whined at the absence of his touch when he pulled his fingers out and quickly reddened at the sight of his fingers coated with my juices within seconds of touching me.

It was obscene and it shouldn't have been so arousing, the wet sounds coming from my pussy when he parted my lips with his fingers again, but this time, he went straight into my clit, rubbing delicious circles on it.

My moans were borderline pornographic when he finally inserted a finger inside me and stars blinded my vision for a bit when he pinched my nipple at the same time. He slid his fingers in and out with a fastening pace, the wet sounds of it echoing all over the corner we were in.

"Shit, baby, your cunt feels so good, oh God," his deep moans kept hitting my ear and he smirked when I became impossibly wetter. "Say you want more, Y/N."

I whimpered in protest when his fingers stopped all of a sudden. "Fucking say it, then. Say you want more," he demanded with a furious growl.

"I want more!" I cried, tears falling from my eyes. "Please, Min, just please, I-I want more---ah!"

He roughly drove two fingers back in me and I could have exploded when he licked my tears. His long fingers were deep inside me, curling them as he searched for that particular spot. I bit his arm to avoid being too loud when he found it.

This angle had my swollen clit directly on his thumb and he applied pressure just enough until I started tightening on his fingers.

"We're leaving, there's nothing in here."

I'm not sure if that was Hongjoong or Seonghwa at this point, but I didn't care to know, I didn't realize how weird it was that they were announcing it at this time, not when Min had finally let loose when he practically dragged me out of our hiding spot.

He hastily took his cardigan off, set it down on the floor, and pushed me down on it so I could lay down on the floor. I yelped when he roughly shoved my pants down, leaving me completely exposed to him as he loomed on top of me.

And just like that, his fingers were back inside me again, sliding them in and out of me. The way his face looked in this light, I will never forget it. He looked more fucked out than me and he was the one getting me off.

"I-I think I'm, uhm," I moaned when his fingers down there got rougher, faster, harder and he just stared at me with lust-filled eyes as he finger fucked me.

"Tell me what you want, Y/N," he groaned. 

I feel my orgasm approaching me fast and hard like an oncoming train. He finger fucks me even faster than before as he took in my pleasure filled face.

"I'm so c-close," I moaned loudly. "M-Min, oh shit, Min---"

"Mingi," he grunted, his eyes never leaving mine. "My name is Mingi."

He leans over to kiss me quickly before leaning up again. "I want my name on your lips when you come, okay?"

"Mingi!"

With that, I let go. Wave after wave of pleasure plummet my body and I scream his name, his real name. He was moaning with me and I saw him resisting to close his eyes so he can watch me come until I was exhausted and shaking, until he couldn't. 

"Say my name," he growled, leaning down and burying his head on my neck as he slowed his fingers down. "Say my fucking name."

My throat was hoarse by the time I was done wailing his name. I was out of it for a while, Min - Mingi - kept giving me tiny little kisses here and there wherever his lips touched. He shushed me as he let go for a while, pulling out and sucking the fingers he used to make me come.

I watched him put my underwear and pants back on as if he didn't just give me the most mind blowing orgasm. When the ecstasy subsided and died down, I wept. 

"You're okay," he would keep assuring, lifting me from the ground and embracing me in his hard chest. "Shh, don't cry. You did so well for me..."

He buried my face on his shoulders as he embraced me, patting my back soothingly as I let my tears fall from the overwhelming feeling my body felt.

I am so ashamed of myself. This was wrong. I wasn't supposed to want my captor, the one who kept blackmailing me. I felt immense guilt and distraught. The pleasure I felt was so good, but it made me feel so dirty.

"I am no different than a harlot," I sniffled against his skin.

He sighed deeply. "You're not."

We stayed like that for a while - me just letting my feelings pass and him patiently waiting for me to finish. He would whisper comforting words as he gave me pecks here and there, wiping my tears away. It felt so wrong.

"So," I cleared my throat, pulling away from him and sitting beside him instead. "Song Mingi, huh?"

He nodded. "How do I know you're not lying?" I questioned, the doubt clear on my face.

Mingi looked a little offended. "My queen," he spoke. "I may have tweaked our deals a little bit, but I never lied to you once."

I hate how right he was. "Stop calling me that," I murmured. "It feels a little intimate. Why do you keep calling me that?"

Mingi smirked at me, taking my wrists in his hand and working on the knots. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

My eyes widened. "No," I rejected. "No more deals, please."

He laughed that deep and attractive laugh of his, concentrating on untying the rope, tugging on it repeatedly, until it became loose, and he guided my hands until I was completely free. I breathe a sigh of relief, pulling my hands to myself and stretching them over and over to make them mobile again.

"What's the catch?" I frowned. He wouldn't just do this for free.

"God, I love how perceptive you are," Mingi remarked flirtatiously. "But no, nothing. I just want to get you cleaned up."

He juts his finger in a random direction. "I have my car outside, we can clean you up there. I have water too. Then you can go."

I was at a loss for words. "Really?"

"Really," Mingi confirmed.

When I gave him the 'go' signal, Mingi proceeded to carry me in his arms, swooping me in one go, and he carried me like a blushing bride. I wasn't a bride, but I was blushing. I knew he was strong, but this was crazy strong. I wasn't the lightest person out there.

I didn't even protest when he started walking out of there, I was too tired to argue, and I saw his eyes twinkle when I leaned my head on his chest as he walked.

"You were never going to ride the train in the first place, weren't you?" I whispered all of a sudden. He had a car outside of a subway station.

Mingi raised a brow as he looked down on me. "No."

"And those two mobsters, the mafia, they were looking for you."

He was smirking this time. "Yes."

"You were going to escape from them, weren't you?"

"Sure."

"What do you owe them?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer that, my queen."

"Please?"

Mingi pauses, staring at me. Then he sighs and relents. "Money."

"Is that what was in your backpack?"

"Do you actually want to get fucked? You're still very sentient, babydoll. Maybe my dick will shut you up---"

"You forgot your glasses inside!" I blurted out, my voice raising by one pitch in embarrassment. I felt my face heating up with his straightforwardness.

Mingi gives me a confused, incredulous look before he opens the door to his car and sets me down comfortably on the plush seats. "I never needed them," he cryptically said.

"Nice ride," I murmured, taking in the luxurious interior and the modern technology attached to it.

He hummed in response, handing me a bottle of water to which I drank greedily. It could have been poisoned, but at the moment, it was the least of my concerns. He lowered the windows so I could also use the water to rinse my face and hands.

"What now?" I questioned.

Mingi gave me a small smile. "You can do whatever you want, go home if you will."

"You sure?" I blurted out before realizing how stupid that was.

He laughed, realizing it as well. "I'm sure, Y/N."

It felt surreal at the moment. It was as if what happened between us was just a figment of my imagination, and it made me even more anxious. It was a little too easy.

"How am I gonna get home at this time," I sighed to myself rather than question it. It was well after midnight and the buses were all gone at this point and I didn't have enough money to get a cab. 

"You know how to drive?" he lazily asked, looking at the distance out into the empty city.

"Yeah, I do," I replied, not sure where he was going with this.

Mingi nodded, tossing me the keys, and I caught it in surprise. "She's all yours," he said.

My eyes widened. "W-What?"

"The car, Y/N, it's yours now," he chuckled. "Drive home, and take care of her for me, yes? She was my favourite."

"Hold the hell on, Mingi," I blabbered. "Are you high right now? You can't just say things like that!"

"Think of it as a gift," he shrugged. 

I stared at him in confusion when he got out and walked around the car, knocking on the passenger window where I was. I quickly crawled to the driver's seat and pressed the window open.

"H-How about you? How will you go home?" I stammered, genuinely concerned. "I'm just borrowing your car, right?"

He smirked, shaking his head. "No. Don't worry, I have more where that came from."

"You used the money you stole from the mafia?"

His eyes widened a bit before he burst out laughing. "More or less," he snorted. "But seriously, do you not like it?"

I scoffed. "Of course I do, this is a Bugatti, for fuck's sake!" 

"Ah," he dismissed. "It's a Centodieci, it's not that much." 

Damn right, I thought. I suppose I deserve this after all the crap and assault he subjected me to, but still, it felt wrong.

When he saw me biting my lip, hesitating, Mingi chuckled, and he was about to answer, but headlights suddenly blinded both of us. "Well," he spoke, tapping the car twice. "My ride's here."

My heart lurched out of my chest. The way Mingi was looking at me, I can't stand it. He was looking at me like I was the brightest star in the universe and the best thing he could do was stare at it because he couldn't reach it. Mngi began walking away, straight to the other car, but I stopped him.

"Mingi, hold on," I called out. He paused from his steps, looking back at me expectantly. My words got stuck in my throat, and the only thing I could say was, "I'll see you around."

He chuckled, low and sinister, and I was thrown into a whiplash. "You don't want that, doll, trust me," he shook his head. "Don't tempt me right now."

"W-Why?"

He opened the door of the other car, leaning on it as he stared at me with a dark look in his eyes. "I'm giving you a chance to run," he professed.

Right. I forgot how manipulative he was. "So run, Y/N, run far, far away," he continued, a daunting smirk on his face, "Because you're mine if we meet again."

And with that, he got in the car and it drove away, leaving me to stare at it as it disappeared from my view.

What did that even mean?

I drove away, apprehensively I might add, to get home. It was a breeze, I hate that I am now very in love with it. I got extremely dizzy when I realized it was voice powered too. Out of curiosity, I asked how much this car cost.

Bugatti Centodieci, top of the line, costs $8.8 million dollars as of 2024...

I almost swerved off the lane when I heard it. Was Mingi crazy? I scoffed, laughing maniacally. 

Who was he? This can't be right. My insides quivered, no way it was this easy, surely there was a catch in between? He was cunning, what if him giving me the car was a part of his stupid games? I wouldn't put it past him.

And so, I drove home with an underlying guilt and heartbreak.

Mingi filled my thoughts all day and all night for the past month.

He was like a barnacle that didn't want to unstick from me and truth be told, it was getting extremely tiring. No matter what I did, I always saw him. I haven't been on any subway or train stations at all.

The worst part was that I didn't exactly know what this feeling was. At first, I thought it was fear - I was scared that he would come knocking on my door one day and claim me against my will, but no, nothing had happened.

I had so many questions left unanswered, questions that were giving me nothing but grievances, and in hindsight, a part of me wanted to see him again.

"Are you going to go have drinks with everyone tonight, Y/N?"

I paused from walking to turn around and found my co-worker, Wooyoung, at the restaurant where we both worked.

"I'm not too sure, Woo, I'm not really feeling well as of lately," I told him truthfully. This is Mingi's fault.

Wooyoung gives me a worried glance. "Everything okay, Y/N? Are you feeling sick?" he asked with a frown. 

I gave him a halfhearted grin. He was always very sweet and I loved that about him. "Don't worry Woo, I'm just going to go home and rest," I twirled my car keys between my fingers and Wooyoung eyes it.

His eyes comically widen. "Wow, Y/N, you drive a car like that?" he says excitedly. "You always rode the bus though..."

I raised a brow. Has he always been this observant? Before I can question it, he snaps his fingers happily. "Can I see it? My brothers don't want me to drive," he pouted.

"Sure," I laughed and I guided him in the parking lot. "I overheard you talking to the others and mentioning that you had seven brothers?"

Wooyoung laughed. "Ah, that. We're not blood related, but we've been together all our lives. Blood isn't always thicker than water..."

We continued talking until I pointed the car to him. I started to go towards it, but I halted when I heard Wooyoung's sharp intake of breath. His eyes were wide as he stared at the black Bugatti, and I was amused.

"Where did you get this?" he inquired, his tone firm, his eyes piercing.

I was taken aback with Wooyoung's shift of attitude. He walked confidently towards the car, lightly trailing his fingers on the hood. Long gone was the cheery boy I knew him for. 

"It's you," I heard him whisper.

My heart palpitated faster and faster when he walked towards me. "Stay here," was all he said when he walked away and called somebody.

I was so damn confused, what the hell was going on? Did Wooyoung know me outside of work? Oh God, I hope he didn't think I stole the car! I mean I get it, I earn shit in the restaurant as a server so I'd understand why he would think that.

Against my better judgment, I ran away from the parking lot into nowhere in particular. There was something dark looming over him in that odd conversation and I didn't want to be part of whatever that was.

As I was running hastily, I dropped the car keys. Cursing under my breath, I went back and tried to find where it dropped. I frowned when I realized where I was - in an isolated dark alley.

"Aha!" I exclaimed when I saw the keys and bent down to pick it up, but a foot stepped on it before I did.

I looked up to see three hooligans - tattoos, dank breath, yellowed eyes, you name it - grinning maliciously at me. I paled and it rendered me paralyzed.

"Well boys, looks like we got a jackpot right over here," the biggest man with the ugliest looking face grinned disgustingly. "You're the owner of that black baby in that parking lot!"

They all laughed rambunctiously to themselves. I was frightened, but I wanted to kick myself. Of course, the expensive car would've caught someone's eye sooner or later, but I didn't think it would be like this.

"P-Please," I whimpered, tears springing up my eyes. "I-I'll give it to you, you can have it, just don't hurt me..."

I gasped sharply when a skinny looking man grabbed me by my face and ogled. "You're hot," he leered. I almost threw up but I held it in. "Wanna play with us, doll? We'll give you a good time!

Tears started falling from my eyes. Mingi called me his doll, and it sounded heavenly from his lips. When they said it, I felt extremely insulted and violated.

"No, no, please!" I screamed when one of them held my arms and restrained me. "Stop!"

"Hold still!"

"No!" I bellowed. "I didn't get to where I am just to be manhandled by fuc---"

I choked, a stinging sensation on my right crippling me, the backhanded slap on my face was stronger than I thought and I hit the pavement below me. Was this the end? I groaned painfully when I felt myself being dragged on the ground. 

My tears were free falling as I felt hands grope me in places I didn't want them to, but I couldn't do anything, black spots danced on my vision, but I still yelled, hoping someone would hear me. 

"Stop it, please, take the car!" I shrieked, thrashing around, but that earned me another slap on the face.

"Damn, bitch, don't you ever shut up?" They laughed disgustingly. I cried out when I felt hands trying to lift my shirt up. "We're going to have so much fun---"

"What's going on here?"

The three hobos paused from their tracks, and froze when they saw the owner of the voice. I was in a haze, I probably had a concussion at this point. I could only hope that the new voice was here to help me...

I lay helplessly on the dirty ground and even though that felt terrible, at least I didn't feel their hands on me anymore, but I could still hear their conversation very well.

"B-Boss, greetings to you and your brothers," I heard them say as they bowed 90 degrees from where they stood.

In the distance, I saw three men standing straight, arms crossed in their chests except the one at the very front. I shrinked onto myself. They were the mafia.

They were Ateez, the 'A' symbol they wear on their suits was a dead giveaway. I panicked when I put two and two together. Were they going to hurt me too?

"Why are you imbeciles disturbing the peace?" a built man with the fiercest eyes I have ever seen sighed. He had this interesting reddish, pinkish hair.

"Wait," the other man with the deeper voice said. This one was handsome, his greenish, blackish hair suited him well. "You fuckers can't get it up so you terrorize a woman?"

"B-But, we know her," the three hoodlums lied. "We swear!"

A sudden panic attack tightens my chest and my breathing turns shallow. I'm so scared, and I am in pain right now. I groaned  and everybody turned to look at me, but my haze couldn't make out faces clearly, especially their expressions.

Green haired man smirked. "Yeah?" he pointed at me. "Doesn't seem like it."

"I should kill you sons of bitches here," the pink haired one snarled, grabbing the gun he had and pointing it straight.

"Please, brother, spare us!" they shouted over and over again. I panicked, whimpering my ears to soothe the oncoming migraine I felt. I panicked even more when I realized I had blood, probably from my fall.

"Shut the fuck up---"

"San."

My eyes fluttered open as the world around slowly started to fade. That voice...

"Put the gun down," the third and last person spoke - the presumed boss. His voice was deep, calming, yet it induced fear in me.

"Why?" pink hair, San, growled.

"I won't tell you twice."

I tried, I really did, my best to glance at the tall man with the most lulling voice, at least to my ears. He was familiar, I just know that he was, it was breaking my heart trying to remember somebody who I couldn't at the moment. 

I knew one thing - he was painfully beautiful, and the way he looked at me, it was like I was the brightest star in the universe, only this time, he can reach me and not just stare at me from afar.

He stepped forward, his strides powerful and domineering, and his eyes never leaving mine. There was something about him that felt different; he was dominant, compelling, and more dangerous than the other two.

"Step aside, maggots," he stated calmly, but so commanding.

"Boss, n-no offense," one brute interrupted, the one that slapped me to the pavement. "W-We really like t-this one, if you may--"

"Move."

"B-But---"

I saw the head mobster glance to his right. "Yeosang." 

Green hair, Yeosang, nodded once and proceeded to roughly shove the thugs, apparently also mafia henchmen, to the side, giving them little punches and kicks here and there. 

My head lolls and the muscles on my neck barely keep up with me. I can feel myself slowly slipping away. A shadow covers my view. He was so intimidating. He reaches his hand out, and I cower in response.

"No," I groggily shoved the head mafia's hand away from me. "Don't hurt me..."

He sighed, crouching down and sitting me down despite my protests. "Little dove, you know I would never," he whispered.

My heart started beating out of control as I stared at him closer. He was wearing this bluish suit along with a white dress shirt. Through my blurry vision, I can tell that he was the most attractive man I have ever seen in my life. I don't think anyone would come close...

I frowned. That train of thought. This wasn't the first time...

"Boss, my liege," I heard the ruffians speak. "Why are you forsaking us, your brothers, for some whore?"

I whimpered when I saw him take his sunglasses of, his eyes twitching, a glare of emotional coldness and complete disregard of anyone. It was terrifying.

"You dare call your queen a whore?"

That voice, that deep timbre, it brought a sense of relief to me. "Mingi?" I inhaled, shaking when it hit me.

His facade drops a bit, his eyes shining in relief, before it turns stone hard again. 

The world seemed to stop for a moment, and the world never stopped for somebody like me. I was too far gone to acknowledge the sharp gasps.

I felt myself being carried and I automatically leaned into his hard chest. I was supposed to be terrified, frightened, but I was not. Everything seemed right at the moment and even if my head didn't know, my heart did.

I've felt this way before. I've been carried like this before. I've been in his safe embrace, wrapped in his heady scent.

I felt him plant a small kiss on my forehead as he carried me out of the alleyway. "You're safe now," Mingi whispered. "Let's go home, okay?" 

I resisted, not wanting to go out just yet, but the tiredness and dizziness was catching up to me. As Mingi was about to completely walk out and go inside a car when we were stopped.

"Min, what do you want to do with them?" San asked. He then turned to me and bowed a bit. "Greetings, our queen."

I frowned, but that quickly turned into aghast when I watched Mingi hand Yeosang a handgun. "Beat the fuck out of them, Sannie, yeah?" he smirked sadistically.

He turned to Yeosang next with a smirk. "Then use that," he beamed darkly. "And use it well. Do not let me down, Yeo."

San and Yeosang look at each other, their eyes glazed with ruthless vigor. "With pleasure," Yeosang smirked. 

I kept going in and out of consciousness every twenty minutes or so. I was in the backseat of a car. 

And Mingi wasn't helping either. When I would try to shrug him off to just lay on my side to relax, he would possessively grab onto my waist and pull me to him.

"Stop it," I whined. "Thank you for saving me, but that doesn't give you the pass to touch me."

He hummed, not even bothering to respond. I wasn't in the mood for his bullshit today, so I shrug him off harder.

"Enough," he warned, a slight edge to his voice. "A month ago, you couldn't do it even if you tried." I hissed when he grasped my waist tighter. "It's like you never learned your lesson."

I blushed at the memory despite the haze. "Where are you taking me?" I cleared my throat pathetically. "My apartment is close to here."

Mingi stared at me before chuckling slowly. "Oh, you sweet, summer child..."

I shivered both in anticipation and fright. I can't be sarcastic with him like I did the last time I was with him. Song Mingi wasn't a regular person, I know that now. I have a sneaking suspicion who he was exactly, but the matter at hand wasn't that.

"Mingi, please, not now," I pleaded when he leaned towards me, stopping only a few inches from mine.

"You have forgotten what I told you before we parted ways," he murmured with a small smirk on his lips. "Surely, you didn't forget me that quick?"

"How could I forget you?" I glared. "You are the most insufferable person I have ever met." 

He smirked. "How could you forget?" I held my breath when he whispered softly. "When your cunt took my fingers so well?"

I inhaled a sharp breath when he gave my lips a small peck. "You're mine now," he whispered. "Don't you ever forget that."

I was about to retort something stupid, but I couldn't when I groaned in pain, clutching my head when a sudden headache stopped me.

"You're bleeding, my sweet pea," Mingi frowned, his fingers lightly touching the dried, caked blood on my forehead. He tutted. "That fuckface. Come here."

My cheeks reddened when Mingi lifted me and placed me on his lap. I instinctively wrapped my arms around him for support. "Jongho," he called, his deep, commanding voice booming all over the car with authority.

"Here," I heard a voice towards the front. I groaned when we hit a road bump.

"Careful, Jjong. Easy on the road," I heard Mingi sigh while he was rubbing my back in a slow manner. It was honestly soothing.

"Sorry," the driver, at least I assume him to be, apologized. "I've been driving for a while now, where to?"

There was a slight pause. "Doll?" Mingi whispered directly in my ear. "You're going to have to stay awake for us, okay?"

I buried my head on the crook of his neck, breathing in his comforting scent. "My head hurts," I whimpered. "They hurt me really bad..."

"Shh, I know, I know. Can you sleep?" he tenderly asked, his arms wrapping around me tighter. I nodded in response.

"That's a good girl," he said. "Yunho's, then. Think you can reach there in thirty, Jjong?"

"Of course," Jongho snorted. "But only if I get to stay and not clean up after Yeo and Sannie. They're brutes."

"Look at you telling me what to do," Mingi raised a brow when Jongho gave him a sheepish smile. "Fine. Wooyoung will do it."

""But I'm worried about her," Jongho glanced at me through the rear mirror. "She might get nauseous."

"I'm fine," I snapped, burying my head deeper into Mingi's neck. "Just fucking drive before my head splits in two. I'll apologize to you later."

I felt bad for cursing at him, given that this was the first time I've ever seen him. My first impression was the least of my concerns.

Both of them laughed for a couple of seconds. "I see you picked the right one," I heard Jongho chuckling at Mingi, his eyes glinting in amusement, but there was that same darkness that he held. "Hang tight, our queen."

Everything was such a blur afterwards, all I knew was that I wanted to rest and forget about everything. The moment my head hit the pillow, it was game over.

When I woke up, I found myself with the most agonizing headache. I clutched onto my head, it certainly felt like my skull was trying to get out of my head.

It took me a while to realize that I wasn't in my own room, rather, I was in the most luxurious room with the plushest king-sized bed, wrapped in the most velvety blanket and surrounded by the softest pillows.

Everything hit me at once - my overnight shift, almost being forced against my will, to being in Mingi's car. I was mad at myself for being so damn weak that I can't even fight back when the need arose. If Mingi and his group didn't come in time, I just know I'd be dead by now.

Or worse, sold off. That was absolutely worse than being dead.

"You're awake."

I looked around to find the source of the voice and there he was. At the foot of the bed, a tall man stood. He was taller than Mingi, and Mingi was damn tall, himself.

"Who are you?" I asked with a frown.

"The owner of this house," he beamed. "My name is Yunho, our queen. Jeong Yunho."

He rolled a cart with antiseptics and more medical stuff out to the side. "You're a doctor," I declared, touching my forehead to find it all cleaned and healed up.

He nodded. "Luckily you didn't need any stitches, just a couple of bandages. Mingi can help you replace them later."

My heart skipped a beat at the name. "Speaking of," I cleared my throat. "Where is he?"

He smiled widely at me. He seemed nice, definitely reminding me of a puppy. "Doing some...stuff."

"I know what he does," I said. "Of what you guys do, more or less."

"I'm sure you do," he chuckled. "Mingi is not a subtle person."

He crossed his arms as he walked closer to my side of the bed. "You're very interesting," he remarked with a smile. "I can see why he's drawn to you."

"What do you mean, Yunho?"

"Well, for one, you didn't freak out when you saw me. The usual response to a random stranger in your bedroom is not nonchalance."

I squinted my eyes at him. I shouldn't conclude my thoughts about these people from looks alone; no one is who they seem to be here.

"You're observant," I commented.

"Yes. He can observe his way out of this room, as well."

Yunho laughed and I scoffed loudly when we both turned around and saw Mingi leaning on the door with his arms crossed.

"No thank you, Mangi?" Yunho approached Mingi with his arms wide open.

"Get out," Mingi ordered.

"Oh, come on now, I just wanted to check up on our queen," Yunho teased.

"Get out," Mingi repeated, raising his voice a little.

"But I want to know how you guys met--"

"Get," Mngi gritted his teeth. "Out."

"Okay, okay, goddamn," Yunho raised his hands out in response and beelined the hell out of the room, but not before waving at me jokingly and laughing on the way out.

The atmosphere was so awkward, it filled the massive room with uncertainty. I couldn't even look Mingi in the eye, for fear of him doing something to me. I was at the mercy of his presence, and in his property. He can do whatever he wants and none would be the wiser.

"I must say, Y/N," he began to speak, making me jump a bit in surprise.  "Had I known that the next time I'd you see was being cornered by dead motherfuckers, I would have never let you go that night."

"Dead?" I squeaked.

Mingi smirked, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. "They will be soon."

He was at the very end of the room, but he was so unnerving. But by God, Mingi was the devil wrapped in an angel's grace. I didn't even recognize him at first.

He was wearing this tight, long-sleeved muscle fit shirt that emphasized just how bigger Mingi actually was. He had no glasses on, allowing me to see through his sharp and calculating eyes, and his dark hair was completely down, his bangs covered his entire forehead. 

It was such a contrast to the very first time I saw him, and to be completely honest, I wasn't sure which one was worse - him wearing a casual outfit with the same dangerous, murderous aura was deceiving.

"You," I gulped. "You are the devil."

He titled his head in a menacing angle. "How so?"

"You know exactly what I mean, you took me here without even asking for my consent, Mingi!"

He stayed silent, staring at me with the same indifference he always had. It irritated me, more so now I knew who he really was.

"You lead the mob, you own the people," I whispered, hugging a pillow for comfort. "God, it all makes sense. The conniving, manipulative, boorish attitude, the fear you instill on everyone who knew you, and how you found me point blank."

"I didn't," Mingi denied. "Wooyoung found you. He called me. He is a brother of mine."

"You lied to me," I growled. "You lied about everything, you bastard-- don't come any closer."

Mingi began walking towards me, but paused in the middle of the room when I told him to stop. "I asked if you were in the mob," I continued. "You said no. But not only that, hid the fact that you had power. All you ever did was lie."

Mingi narrowed his eyes on me, rage slowly building into them, then it was gone. His self-control had always been worth of applause. "I never lied to you," he said in annoyance. "Everything I told you has been the damn truth from the start, Y/N."

"I own the gang, Y/N. I am the mafia, so no, I am not the mob," Mingi hissed. "I gave you every opportunity to wiggle your way out, I never gave you opportunities--"

"Opportunities that you tailored to suit whatever you wanted?!" I interjected, my voice raising significantly. "As if I had any choice? You assaulted me, Mingi, you took advantage of any weakness I had and exploited it for your gain!"

He smirked, his true colours overtaking the gentleness he put on. "But I do, I do care for you," he remarked. "Your perceptiveness kills me, though. It's not my fault we crossed paths again."

"You were going to give me to the enemy when we were hiding at the station," I accused harshly. "Crossing paths wasn't the issue, you had no problem selling me out!"

"I wasn't going to," Mingi shook his head.

"You wanted to touch me, you were going to push me off to them--"

"Hongjoong and Seonghwa, you mean?" 

Mingi sighed, rubbing his temples with both of his hands. "Okay, fine, I might have lied to you with that one," he shrugged. "Joong is my best hunter, and Hwa is my right hand man."

Dread filled my body. Every opportunity that he gave me, even if he had pushed me to Hongjoong and Seonghwa, I would have never been in trouble. I would have ended up with Mingi, regardless.

"You snake," I seethed. "You manipulated me!"

"Remember," Mingi grinned sadistically. "I gave you the option to get away. Hongjoong would have let you go, he's always been soft, you see," he scoffed. "You chose to stay with me."

With that, tears fell from my eyes. Mingi's eyes softened at the sobs that wracked my body. He never lied, everything matched up, but his manipulations knew no bounds. Had I not been blinded by the temporary lust that made my body shake, I would have read between the lines.

"Seonghwa said he was going to kill you, how could I have known?" I hiccuped in between the sobs and tears.

I saw him reach out his hand to me, wanting to touch me, but hesitated when he saw how pitiful I looked. "Please don't cry, little dove," he whispered. "Will you calm down if I explain everything from the start?"

I looked up at him with my tear-stained eyes, nodding apprehensively. "Listen to me, my Y/N," he began. "I never lied to you, and I'm not lying when I say it hurts me to see you cry.

He walked towards the end of the bed and sat on it, far from me. "I was there for a deal with another mob, they screwed me over, so I stole their cash," he explained like it was no big deal. "The rope and the knife was theirs. It was for me."

I winced, the memory of Mingi tying me up making me cringe. "I'll spare you the details. I had to secure the place, why do you think the whole station was empty?"

I stared at him, and he stared back. That look again, I can't stand it. He was looking at me like I was the brightest star in the universe, but this time, I was slipping further and further away from him.

"I am a very thorough person, my pretty girl," he smiled at my blush.  "I could have sworn I blocked off every single entrance in there. So tell me, how the hell did you get in?"

My blush deepens, and I lower my head in embarrassment. "I-I saw there was a barricade," I stammered. "I, uhm, jumped over it. I was too tired to go the long way."

Mingi laughed, his deep voice reaching me in places I didn't know existed. "I see," he smirked.

How could I be so stupid? The deserted area should have been a massive sign that something was very wrong.

"The train that came after a little," he continued. "That was my getaway ride. Those two were probably pissed when I wasn't on it, especially Seonghwa."

I was mortified all of a sudden. I groaned and Mingi turned to look at me in amusement. Hongjoong and Seonghwa probably heard us going at it and doing vulgar things in a place where we weren't supposed  to be doing it.

"I didn't lie when I said I owed them money," he said, his tone soft and gentle. It was like we were in that train station all over again. It was moments like these when my heart would question itself and its validity.

"Yeah, you just conveniently forgot to mention that it was technically your money too," I mumbled in resentment.

"I got a little carried away with you and forgot to give it to them," he shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know how, you drive me crazy."

"That doesn't give you the excuse to shackle me with you and manipulate me to do your bidding," I glared fiercely at him, my voice breaking with every emotion I had.

"I know, my love, I know," he sighed deeply, shifting uncomfortably on the bed and turning his whole body to face me. 

I wasn't going to tell him that I never stopped thinking about him even after he left, and I wasn't going to tell him that he had won - even if I didn't want to, I felt something for him. But I was mad, and he doesn't deserve me.

There wasn't a day where I never blamed myself for feeling the way I did. I really was no different than a whore.

"I didn't think I'd see you again after that night," he admitted.

I was puzzled and confused. "What do you mean?" I frowned. "I was in fear of you, Mingi. Everyday I was paranoid that you changed your mind and would come knocking at my door to take me."

He chuckled lightly. "No, dollface. I didn't even know where you lived."

I stared at him apprehensively. "There was no tracking in the car?" The doubt was clear on my face. "Don't you mafia people do that? GPs everything that moved?"

"You would be correct, but no," he shook his head. "Not that one. That was my personal car. Not the mob boss' car, just regular Song Mingi. It's not connected to the business."

"You're lying," I objected, my chest tightening with how my heart beated.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Mingi sighed. "Call me whatever you want, a bastard, a son of a bitch, the devil incarnate. I may con my way and twist the truth, but Y/N, you should know by now that I am not a liar."

I swallowed the lump that blocked my throat from breathing in and out. "Not to you," Mingi confessed. "I care very deeply about you."

I couldn't help the shock that resonated onto my face and expression. "You really intended to give me that car?" I croaked. 

He nodded without hesitation. "Yes, love. Yes, I did."

Something in my chest exploded, all the emotions and how I felt threatening to bubble up within me. "I hate you," I whispered.

Mingi heard it though. "What?" he frowned.

I was very angry at this point. "Is this part of your games again, Song Mingi?" I spat, tossing the blankets away from my body.

"My love, please calm down," he pleaded.

"No!" I screeched, standing up and inching away from him and the bed. "I don't need your stupid car after you took advantage of me, you slimy little snake."

I began pulling my hair out in frustration. "You could have let me go," I cried out. "But instead, you didn't and you toyed with me and my body!"

"Y/N, stop it," he warned, standing up, himself, and trying to reach for me, but all it did was make me back away more.

"You think the car would absolve everything?" I seethed, making my way to the door, intending to leave. "You could have approached me like a normal person, I might have given you a chance to woo me--" 

I grabbed my arms and spun me around swiftly. "Mingi, let go--"

"You don't understand," Mingi hissed, his eyes had the mafia leader's anger in them, scaring me a little. "You don't get it all, Y/N."

"Mingi, please--"

"I had  every intention of letting you go that night," he snarled. "When I said I never thought I'd see you again, I meant it. I was really letting you go." 

"You asshole, I hate you!" I screamed in defiance.

Mingi scoffed. "Really?" he squinted his eyes at me and pulled me into him, embracing me. It effectively halted me, I wasn't expecting it.

"That car was yours," he whispered. "If you really detested me, you could have sold it and gotten rid of every trace of me."

"And have you kill me for doing so? I think not."

"I wouldn't have known. If it had GPS, I would have tracked it somewhere else."

I cursed under my breath. There was no fooling him. "I wish you sold it," he said. "You could have lived comfortably and I would have rested easy knowing you had enough money so you wouldn't work at night anymore."

I shivered when he tucked my hair behind my ears. "What if someone else got you first? What if they had worse intentions?"

"I want you," he continued when I didn't reply. "I wanted you for myself, to take you and do whatever I damn well pleased."

He tilted my chin gently, forcing me to look him in the eyes. "I wanted to fuck you that night. Hard. Fast. Rough."

That caught me off guard. My face heated up in response.

"But I couldn't," he sighed before I could fully internalize what he said. "I didn't want this life for you. There was too much danger around me..."

He touched my forehead before leaning in and giving the bandaged wound a peck. "I should have come sooner before they did this to you."

I realized that passion was often mistaken for aggression. Mingi had too much of both. "You didn't send Wooyoung to spy on me?" I asked.

Mingi shook his head. "Wooyoung working with you was a sheer coincidence."

"It's not too late, you can still let me go," I tried to convince him. "You can let me go, once and for all."

He shook his head, his hold on me tightening. "No," he flatly said. Desperation swam in his eyes. "I let you go once, and that month was my worst. You're mine now, you hear me?"

The way he looked at me, I was the brightest star in his universe, and he finally had caught up to me. Then Mingi let me go, his eyes darkening into something foreboding; something more sinister.

"Strip."

It took a moment for me to understand what he said, and when I did, my eyes widened. "W-What?"

His eyes never left mine. "You heard me," he said. "Take your clothes off."

I took a step back from him and Mingi's jaw hardened when he saw me. "What are you doing?" he clenched his teeth, his voice taut.

"Mingi, please," I pleaded.

"Please what?" he growled. "Take your fucking clothes off, Y/N. I'm going to fuck you."

My chest fell up and down with how rough my breathing became. Mingi's scowl deepened when he saw me not moving an inch. He proceeded to take his shirt off and throw it randomly somewhere.

I gulped, taking in his physique. I knew he was toned, but seeing him up close made my brain go haywire with want. My brows shot up as I stared at the tattoo I didn't know he had on his left chest. It was an 'A' in a circle - an anarchy symbol, or rather, the Ateez emblem.

"Are you going to hurt me?" I whimpered.

His eyes narrowed in irritation. "No. Come here," he ordered. He had a demanding presence. The suffocating domination he had on me was daunting, but I wasn't going to give in to him.

I stood frozen in my spot for a few more seconds before I backed up again. Mingi slowly crept up to me, he looked like a predator more than ever.  I backed up even faster until my back hit the wall. Panic surged through me when Mingi reached me.

He put his arms on either side of the wall, trapping me in. "Where are you going to go?" he sneered.

Before I could respond, Mingi ripped my nightgown off swiftly in the middle and lifted me easily in his arms, tossing me effortlessly on the bed. I screamed for dear life as he hovered over me.

"Song Mingi! What the fuck are you doing to her?!” I heard someone scream from outside the room.

"Fuck off!" Mingi roared angrily.

I trembled beneath him. He looked so much bigger than me when he was on top of me like this. I covered my bare breasts with my arms, but Mingi wasn't having it.

His eyes roamed hungrily over me. "No, babydoll," he smirked, grabbing my hands roughly and pinning them down on the bed. "You do not cover your tits around me, got it?"

I nodded as he devoured me with his eyes. I gasped when he leaned down and began sucking them. The stimulation was overwhelming - he would alternate between sucking and nipping my nipples gently.

"Mingi, please wait," I whimpered pathetically when he let go of one of my hands to fondle my tits.

I shook my head frantically and a choked cry was torn from my when  his other hand wrapped around my neck. He lifted his head up to glare at me.

"Stay still," he barked.

I felt his tongue lick my lips, trying to push them apart. I whined in reluctance, trying to turn my head away, but Mingi quickly let my neck go to the back of my head and tugged my hair roughly on his hands. I cried out and struggled when he bit my bottom lip.

I inhaled a deep breath sharply when he pulled away to stare at me as I shuddered. I tensed when he started leaning down again slowly. He let go of my hair to press a thumb on my jaw, smirking darkly as he forced my mouth open.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured. "Naked, shaking like a leaf, and all mine."

He ravaged my mouth once more, tugging on my hair a little bit. When I refused to cooperate, he murmured another warning against my mouth, this time with more threat. His tongue played with mine, and he groaned against me, and plunged his tongue deeper.

I felt my body trembling more, the wetness down there was becoming impossible to ignore at his touch, and I was aching for relief at this point.

Tears fell from my eyes at the roughness and tenderness he was making me feel, and I felt nothing but confusion. He wiped my tears away with his fingers.

"Don't cry," he whispered.

"C-Can we do this next time?" I begged.

His penetrating glare left me fumbling for words, and yet submissive to his touch, unsure if I should hate him for doing this, or liking it because it was him. 

I knew one thing, I felt undeniably safe with him.

"Darling, please, I'm not going to hurt you," Mingi pleaded when I began thrashing around, trying to get away from his criminal hold, by pushing his body towards me. "You want this just much as I do--"

"Fuck you," I spat on his face. Shock filled his face as he wiped the spit absentmindedly.

His eyes widened before mania and fury fueled his features. "Don't worry, I plan to."

I was expecting something rough and unrestrained, but no, Mingi kissed me softly, lovingly, and I couldn't help but kiss him back with equal emotions. His hands went everywhere - my hair, neck, stomach - until it reached its goal down there.

Panic surged through me and I tried to struggle, but he held my legs down with his and trapped me with his chest.

"Mingi," I wailed.

"Shut up," he hissed, ignoring my pleas.

Something about the way he said it made me extremely wet. It was such a dark arousal, too. Mingi groaned loudly, his fingers felt my damp pussy, rubbing and pressing on it. I bit my lips to stop the moans that were wanting to spill out of me.

"Baby," Mingi rumbled, pulling my bottom lip out of my mouth. "Do not, and I mean, do not hold back on me, yeah? I want to hear your pretty sounds..."

It's not like he gave me a choice, I let out a breathy moan when he slipped a finger in, pushing in deeper until he was knuckles deep. I unconsciously squeezed around his finger and that made him even crazier.

"Oh sweetheart," he choked out. "You are incredibly tight, my angel."

He started stroking in and out, sliding with ease and finger fucked me faster and rougher than he did when he were at the train station.  I moaned when he curled his fingers up and started rubbing that sweet spot.

"M-Mingi," I moaned erotically. "P-Please, slow down for m-me."

He kissed my neck, his lips nipping at the soft flesh there. "How?" he groaned against my skin. "Do you not hear that?"

The loud, squelching sound from my wet pussy as he drilled his finger relentlessly in me was driving me crazy. I gasped when his pace got faster, his palms were hitting my clit aggressively and I felt my orgasm slowly approaching me.

"No," Mingi growled. I whined in protest when he pulled out. He grabbed my jaws roughly. "You won't come, not until I say so," he snarled.

He stood and quickly got rid of his pants, his hands shaking with anticipation as removed the last piece of clothing he had - his boxers.

I stopped and watched him stroking his already hard cock, and he looked directly at me, his eyes hazed with lust and madness, his strokes going slower when I swallowed. He wasn't the biggest I've been with, but he was the thickest. 

The length of it was veiny, the head of it red with the need to be inside me. I gulped when I realized that he was going to be inside me.

"Look how hard you make me, precious," his eyes were lethal and ferocious. "I'm sorry, but I can't take it anymore."

Before I could say anything, a startled cry left my lips when he mounted me, roughly pushing my thighs apart to let himself in for the invasion he was going to do.

"Mingi--oh!" I whined when he shoved his fingers back in my pussy and stroked in and out like the madman he was. I struggled repeatedly, thrashing my legs and kicking him as hard as I possibly could.

"Resistance is useless, stop it!" Mingi shouted, making me stop in my acts and stare at him dumbfounded.

He tiredly buried his head on the crook of my neck. "I will give you anything and everything you want and more," he whispered in distress and desperation. "Just please give in to me, baby, please ."

The way he was begging broke something in me. "It doesn't work like that," I sighed.

"Then don't hate me," was all he said before he pushed into me in one thrust of his hips, almost tearing me into two.

I choked out a loud moan as my nails dug into his back. "M-Mingi," I gasped in broken moans.

He stayed still inside me for what seemed like a lifetime, shushing me and whispering the gentlest of words into my ears as he gave me little kisses here and there.

I knew he was corrupting me, but the feel of him inside me sent stars in my vision. It was the corruption, the alternation, between him being rough and then into being the most affectionate man.

Mingi withdrew all of a sudden, then thrust deeply, both of us letting out pleasure filled moans that echoed all over the room.

"I'm going to have you now, okay?" he said.

Without waiting for my reply, he thrust into me hard, over and over and over again. I felt my body being filled delightfully, the sensation of Mingi's cock seemingly swallowing all the words I intended to hurl at him.

His thrusts quickened, each thrust making me cry out loud and moaning louder and louder, not caring if anybody heard me from outside.

"Oh, fuck, my love," Mingi groaned, looking me directly in the eyes as he hovered over me. "You feel so fucking good."

He leaned down to kiss me roughly. "You're all mine, okay? You're fucking mine."

It was the moment when I knew that I couldn't hold back anymore. No matter how hard I tried to deny it, maybe I was his, after all. It was fucked up, but goddamn it, I wanted him.

"I'm all yours," I cried out. "Please, please fuck me--ngh!" 

He groaned at my sudden surrender to him, reaching down with one hand to rub my clit as he fast as he was fucking into me. He locked his lips into mine in a demanding kiss.

"Your pussy feels so fucking good," his deep voice bought out a different type of pleasure in me. "Wrap your legs around me, my love."

I obeyed him without questions, moaning his name out loud when he reached even deeper than before. He buried his face in my neck as he fucked faster, harder, and deeper.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck..."

"You want me to go harder, baby?"

"Yes! "Well, you better start begging."

“Please, Mingi, please…”

His cock filled my pussy harder until I felt the tip touch the end of my walls. In a moment of complete bliss, I grabbed his face and locked eyes with him. The surprise in his eyes made him buck his hips roughly. "Is my angel a slut, after all?" he smirked.

My body shuddered against him, and I felt a pleasure that intensified with the degrading name - slut.

"I love you," he whispered abruptly. 

The sincerity in his eyes made my chest tighten and explode. "Since when?" I croaked out.

"I don't know," he smiled through the pleasure he felt. "I just do."

It was a feeling I knew all too well, as I felt the same.

A surge of bravery passed through me, maybe it was all from the payback and I want to get even. "Prove it," I smirked.

"Oh, you're going to be the death of me," he growled.

I screamed his name over and over again as he fucked his desires into me, until a strangled groan from him made his thrusts more desperate and sloppier. 

His moans were getting higher and higher in pitch until he was nothing more than a whining, moaning mess. It turned me on to the highest degree.

"Come with me, love, please," he begged. "I need it..."

It was all I needed to hear, and there was no turning back. He broke an orgasm out of me, stripping me of any plans to defy him ever again.

His groans of pleasure matched his slowing thrusts and with a final plunge forward, hot cum filled began filling me. The little kisses he planted all over my face while whispering the dirtiest things with the most affectionate tone gave me the shivers.

He laid on top of me tiredly, and I was expecting him to stay like that because we were both tired and spent, but no. "Mingi?" I asked in confusion. 

I was confused, I whined when he pulled out, going down on me to stare at my swollen pussy. It was so embarrassing, him being so close and personal down there.

"W-What are you doing?" I moaned again when I felt his fingers push back his cum back inside me.

"Can't let all of this go to waste, yes?" he smirked before diving in.

I almost had another orgasm at the sight. I felt Mingi eat me out hurriedly, holding my legs so I don't shut them close. The slurping sounds were so obscene.

Suddenly, he stopped and got back on top of me with the cockiest smirk on his face. He leaned down, forcefully opened my mouth, then opened his.

"Mmph!" I groaned lewdly, wide-eyed, but suddenly wet all over again.

I felt something wet, sticky, go in my mouth when Mingi kissed me - cum. He had just sucked his own cum from my pussy, and spit it out in my mouth.

"That's a good girl," he smirked, wiping his mouth with his hands. "Take it all in for me..."

He leans back at me again and I expectedly open my mouth for him again.  His cum dribbled slowly from his mouth to mine and we both groaned at the erotic sight. "Swallow," he said.

I savoured his taste and swallowed, just like he wanted to. He bit his lips at my lewdness. "You did not just do that," I was bewildered.

"And what if I did?" Mingi smirked.

We lay next to each other, not saying a word, and just taking in what transpired between the two of us. I lay on Mingi's chest, tracing the tattoo on his chest.

"What's it for?" I asked absentmindedly.

"That, my love, is a brand that we wear to prove our loyalty," he replied patiently, rubbing my arms up and down. "Hongjoong drew it, himself."

"Does everyone have them?"

"Yes," he hummed. "Yunho has his on his chest too, Wooyoung and San both have theirs on their thighs. Hongjoong on his right wrist, Seonghwa on the left, Jongho on his arm, Yeosang on his back."

"I see," I replied lazily, laying back on his chest and just staying there. It wasn't awkward at all, I just felt relaxed with Mingi like this.

"You didn't reply to me earlier," Mingi's deep voice accused.

"With what?" I frowned, not even bothering to open my eyes.

"I told you I love you, I meant what I said," he sighed. "It wasn't a spur of the moment thing."

"But Mingi, this is only the second time we've seen each other, how can you love me?" I whispered, my tongue burning because I knew I was bullshitting myself with that.

"Don't be a hypocrite, precious," he chuckled. I huffed and he laughed. "You forget I'm the Don, I can see right through you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I rolled my eyes playfully, turning away from him.

He grabbed me gently and gave me a quick kiss. I blushed when he kissed my nose. "Admit it," he pressed.

"Admit what?"

"That you're slowly falling in love with me," he grinned. "Just like I am with you, my queen."

I cursed under my breath. "Why do you keep calling me that?" I frowned, trying to divert the topic.

"I'll take that as a yes," he laughed. "You mean 'my queen'? So you get used to it since I want you by my side when I rule."

"Bold of you to assume I'll agree," I murmured.

"I mean, we already fucked each other's brains out, I'm just saying--"

"Mingi!"

We laughed out loud, and we laughed even harder when all we heard from outside the door were: 

'Ha! Woo, you fucking owe me $50, I told you they'll make up!'

'Yeah, but the bet was if they make up before fucking, San!'

'I don't give a fuck. Hwa, you owe me too!'

'Me?! That was Yeosang!'

"Boss!"

I was startled when Mingi suddenly covered my whole naked body with the blanket protectively. Somebody just came through the door without knocking.

"Choi Jongho," Mingi seethed, shaking in anger. "It better be good or I swear I will shoot you on the spot."

"Ah," I heard our lovely driver fumble by the door. "Well, Hongjoong saw somebody steal the car in the garage."

Mingi sighed loudly. "Which one?"

"The white one."

"Well, did they break your legs first?"

"What?"

"I said," Mingi inhaled sharply. "Did they break your legs first?"

I stroked Mingi's thighs to calm him down. Though it turned me on to see him mad - sue me, he was hot - I liked Jongho and I don't want to see him dead yet.

"No," Jongho replied.

"So go and fucking chase it down, then!" Mingi howled. "Did you really have to go to me for that? Get the hell out of my room, out!"

"Hey, this is my house!" I heard Yunho shout from a distance.

"That I gave you!" Mingi screamed back.

I couldn't stop the laughter that erupted from my throat. I suppose it wouldn't be too bad trying to get along with everyone and see where this journey takes us. When Jongho shut the door, I peeked out from the blanket to find Mingi already staring at me.

"So," Mingi cleared his throat. "What now?"

I attempted to stifle a grin, but I failed. "Luckily for you, I like having power as well."

"Good," he beamed. I was in awe, where was the rugged and brusque man I met on the train station?

He bought out documents from the bedside table and began writing on it. "I just have to write your name in the official document so the enemy does not touch you," he explained when he saw me look at him curiously.

"They're eventually going to find out about you," he continued. "You have an English name, love?"

"Why?" I asked.

"For overseas," he shrugged. "Our operations extend out there, believe it or not."

I looked at him apprehensively. When Mingi saw me hesitate, he spoke up. "We'll take it one step at a time, okay?" he tenderly said. "I know this is a lot of change, but I promise you, nobody will hurt you. Hurting you will equate to hurting me as well. Any family I should know of?"

My heart swelled incredibly so. I was scared, terrified even, but I had a good feeling about him and everything that will come next.

"No," I smiled sadly. "I'm an orphan. And it's Rinoa."

He stopped in his tracks and looked up to meet my eyes. "You're very strong," he said with a small smile. "You have me and the boys now, no more worrying alone, okay? Put down your college information too, I'll pay for it from now on."

My eyes widened. "You don't have to," I whispered. "I've been managing on my own for years now."

"I know, love, but part of being mine is letting me take care of you. Let me take this burden off of your shoulders, okay?"

I wanted to tear up. I was confused, but felt very happy. "I hope you don't let me down," I whispered. " Or I'm going to beat you up," I grinned afterwards.

Mingi grinned back, kissing my hands tenderly. "I promise I'll give you everything and make you happy, and I'm sorry for all the stuff I put you through."

"No more lies?" I pointed out.

Mingi shook his head. "No more lies."

"So what's your English name too?"

Mingi chuckled. "I won't lie," he smirked. "But I never said I won't ask for some sort of payment."

I rolled my eyes and kissed him on the cheeks. His eyes widened in response. "That was fast," he laughed. "Look at you already wanting to know things about myself."

"Glad to know you're still the cocky man I met," I laughed. "Would've been weird if you just suddenly changed."

I looked at him expectantly with a cheeky smile. He laughed out loud before responding. "It's Stellan.”

"It suits you," I commented. 

We stared at each other, just taking in the other person. Little by little, we'll get to each other, and it starts right here, and right now. "Come here," he began

He lifted me up to put me on his lap so I could straddle him and pulled me towards him until our lips danced in a game of truce.

I fell into his rhythm naturally as his arms wrapped around me and held me lovingly. I had found my lover with Mingi, and I had fallen in love with him.

[zirconika]

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.

i'm still building my blog. so for now, just send me an ask to be added to my general taglist :)

TAGLIST: @vaniniweenie @avabh12 @stinkygirl009 @whatchareadingnow @remuslittlesister @romanoffmaximoff0096 @daryldixmedown @sysqzs

[cosmosis]

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.

[madridfangirl]

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.

[cherry-pop-elf]

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.

@meheheasasa @letmebedelutional @trashcansally @balanahala562

Prev 2 Next

[animeyanderelover]

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.

[finelinevogue]

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."

[cutieeva]

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

[peachdues]

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!

[musickgeek]

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."

[mint-yooxgi]

Promises - Yandere!Kraken!Felix

Yandere AU & Kraken AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Felix X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,958

Warnings: Implied violence and shipwreck, kidnapping, Felix is a type of Sea God in this, mentions of past sexual relations. Tentacles. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Did I base the start of this drabble on the ending scene in Dead Man's Chest? Perhaps. Is this a bit tamer than the others. Maybe. Either way, I still hope you like it! I've been slowly easing myself back into writing, so I'm happy with what I've been able to do. Plus, I just fucking love the banner I made for this hehehe... Anyways, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Thirteenth of The Feral Drabbles

They thought they could keep you away from me.

They really thought they could keep you away from me.

It’s laughable. I thought it was a known rule for sailors not to anger the sea, but alas. Here we are.

The frantic screams and shouts don’t deter me for one second. I know what I came here for, and I’m not leaving without you. You’re mine. I warned them what the consequences would be, yet still they refused to give you to me. Even after we promised ourselves to each other! Can you believe that?

Oh, that sounds so harsh. It’s not like you didn’t also choose me. It’s these… these… things keeping us apart. They don’t understand our love. Think I’m corrupting you, or something.

Such bullshit. The only thing I’m corrupting is their ability to live.

They hid you on the third level, thinking you’d be safe within the deepest confines of the ship. Little do they know it’s the worst place you could be. It’s like they want you to get hurt, like they want me to kill you. Such things I would never do. 

Still, despite my anger as I tear this floating piece of wood apart, I’m careful. Your safety is my top priority, and I’ve already ensured that. Right now, you rest, cocooned inside a few of my tentacles. Magic surrounds you, ensuring none of their attacks have any effect on me or you. Like hell I’ll allow them to disturb you now. Besides, you passed out shortly after my assault started on the ship, but you don’t have to worry. I’ve got you.

I can still remember when we first met, how you told me you didn’t fare well with sea travel. Yet another offence they’ve made against you. I’ll never forgive them for their transgressions. Sinners need to pay, and I am here to pass my divine judgement on those that would call themselves ‘heroes’.

Do not fear, My Beloved. Once I finish smashing apart this pathetic excuse of driftwood, I’ll take you home. 

Where you’ve always belonged. 

With me.

These planks are so brittle, it’s almost laughable. Your captor’s pathetic attempts to defend themselves are cute, in a way. If not for the fact that every time I start to pull you out of the wreckage, more of them show up to try and hinder me. I don’t know why they’re so obsessed with protecting you now when they’ve never done so before.

I’m the one who always saves you. I’m the one who ensures you no harm. Not them.

No matter. They haven’t seen everything that I can do. My capabilities far surpass what their puny, closed off minds can comprehend. I’ve got magic beyond the darkest depths of the ocean, strength greater than the harshest of tides. There is no being, save myself, that could keep me away from you.

I don’t even know why they try.

Finally, I’m able to pull you out of that godforsaken wreckage and unleash my full wrath upon these wretches. The boat snaps like a twig as I pull the debris and all remaining survivors below the surface. 

None will survive. They don’t get to. I won’t let them.

Honestly, it’s kind of fun tearing stuff apart. I’ve always enjoyed making a mess of things. I only wish you could be awake to see just how strong your lover can be. After all, I’m doing this for you. I warned them about what would happen should they lay their filthy, traitorous hands all over you. I’m simply staying true to my word!

You know firsthand that I’m a very truthful guy. I would never lie to you, My Pearl. I would rather be slow roasted over an open fire than even think to deceive you.

Aren’t I so loyal?

Oh. Right. You aren’t awake to hear my teasing. Teasing which you seem quite fond of whenever I’m with you.

I think you just like hearing my voice…

That’s okay, Beloved. I will speak for as long as you desire me to. Besides, the feeling is quite mutual.

Gods- I can’t wait to see your face when you wake up in our home, and I get to tell you everything that I’ve done for you. Finally, we can be together, free of oppressive opinions and suppressive stares. Where I’m taking you, we can be ourselves, and the magic of my ocean will keep you safe. Eventually, when you’re ready, you’ll even become like me, too. 

Won’t that be incredible? Just thinking about it makes my whole body tingle.

Or maybe that’s just the change in depth.

I promise my home isn’t too much further out, and it’s in a safe area. You’ll be able to live here with me free of any restraints. I’ll be your comfort. I’ll be your guide. I will provide for you everything you will ever need. 

There is nothing stopping our love now.

I’ll even make sure that no sliver of the wreckage I just caused gets to you. The currents listen to me. They’re my friends, and soon they will be yours, too.

Either way, I’m glad that’s over, because now I can focus on you! I know that you’d be celebrating with me if you were awake, but for now, I’ll simply revel in this sweet victory alone. Having you safe in my arms is enough reward, and when you wake, the true celebration will begin.

Hmm, I wonder what we should do first? Should I take you to the reefs so you can see all of the colourful coral that I’ve grown just for you? Should I present you to the schools of fish that always seek refuge around my house? Get them to revel in your beauty? Or maybe I’ll worship you in the den of our own personal sanctuary, where nothing - no one - will be able to interrupt.

My Beauty.

My Beautiful, Beloved Pearl.

I’ll admit, there’s a certain ring to those names that I enjoy. It calls to me like the cavernous songs of the sirens. An enchantment I can never seem to escape: you.

Not that I want to. 

No. Never. Not since the very first time I laid eyes on you.

You’re addictive, you know that? One glance caught my attention. One melodic note of a spoken word, and I was hooked. Your eyes are deeper than the darkest sea, and I could swim in them forever. You hold me, transfixed, with your gaze whenever you look at me, and I never want it to stop.

Honestly, I can never grow tired of you looking at me. I want you to look at me, and only me. I want to be the first thing you see in the morning when you blink those glorious eyes open, and the last thing you see when you go to sleep at night. I want to wrap you in my arms and hold you close, whispering the sweetest words of all the worlds in your ears, and hear you do the same for me in return.

There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Beloved, and I will never hesitate to prove that to you. With me, you will never have to settle for less than what you deserve, for I will always give you every single thing your heart could ever desire.

Fuck- I can still remember the way your body trembled from the very first touch. The more I trailed my arms over your body, letting the tips of my tendrils caress your skin, the more your whole being warmed. You fit so perfectly in my hold, that I long to always touch you - to always be near you, and obey your every whim.

I am but your loyal servant, sent to worship the very depths of your soul. Your entire being calls to me, and I could bathe in your warmth for all eternity. Right now, it’s that warmth that I crave more than anything. That glorious nectar that seeps from between your legs beckons to me. One taste isn’t enough. I need to feel you flooding my every sense once more.

Sweet.

Addictive.

I could spend ages defining it, but nothing could ever truly put into words just how ethereal you are to me.

People always thought my existence was mere myth itself. Rumours and legends only meant to scare those away from pursuing adventure on the high seas. Nothing more than a fable to tell their children at night to ensure they don’t go off swimming in the bay alone.

They have always been, and will always be, wrong.

I’m as real at the tide, as sure as the sand that resides against the ocean floor. There is nothing in these waters as deadly as I am, and all those that oppose us will face my wrath.

Well, where we’re going, we won’t have to worry about being disturbed at all. Plenty of room for the both of us. Plenty of privacy. No one dares disturb that which should be left undisturbed. At least, those smart enough to.

That is, of course, unless I use my magic to let those sirens get a taste of their own medicine. Water echoes even the smallest of sounds, and yours should be heard for miles around. I can still hear your glorious voice calling out my name as you bathed me in your own sacred waters, and I want all to know that you are mine, and I am yours. For all eternity. 

I’ll admit… I’m addicted to you, and I can never get enough. Though, from the way I remember your hands clinging to me that night only days ago, I don’t think you can get enough, either.

Good thing we have forever to spend fully satisfying each other!

Ah… looks like we’re finally getting close to home. I can see the familiar drop off up ahead. Don’t worry, Beloved, there’ll be plenty of air for you to breathe inside. I won’t always have to keep you covered in a veil of magic. Though, I would always like to have an arm around you. Feeling your skin pressed against my own is a sensation unlike any other, and I long to never let you go.

Perhaps I should tidy up a little more before you wake. I always have way too much energy after destroying a ship. Something about adrenaline and all that.

Perhaps when you wake up you could even help me with it… You might be a bit tired and disoriented when you wake, but my magic can help with your exhaustion. You seemed to like that that last time I used it on you.

How else could we have gone as many rounds as we did?

Oh, you flatter me by pulling yourself in closer to me subconsciously when I shift into such a basic form. It easier to move around like a human within my home when it’s drained like this, and besides, I haven’t exactly shown you my entire true form yet. The last thing I want to do is scare you as soon as you wake up. You’ve already suffered the trauma of being stolen away from me today. I don’t want to make things worse.

There. All you need to do is rest now. 

In my arms? Well, who am I to pull away from My Pearl when you’re clinging onto me so tightly in your sleep? 

I truly can never say no to you…

Just rest, Beloved. This creature shall keep you safe, tucked away deeply in his heart for all eternity. Once you open those glorious eyes of yours, our own adventure will start.

Just you and me, forever. 

I promise.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Red Sky At Morning | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Discussions of healing from a sexual assault (proceed with caution if this is triggering for you!!! I love you!! Take care of yourself!!!), canon violence, canon gore, spitting insults back and forth with Bela, discussions of dead family members

Word Count: 7523

A/N: I snuck a New Girl reference in here… see if you can catch it ;) Also… there is heavy homoerotic subtext between Bela and (Y/N). Giving my loyal subjects what they deserve lmfao

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

Your mind refused to let you rest after seeing Sam leaving in the middle of the night. Despite your exhaustion, you stayed near the window until you saw the car return to its original parking spot around three in the morning. And sure enough, Sam walked out of it, looking severely pissed off. 

‘I’m guessing he didn’t just have a bad hookup,’ you mentally remarked. You stewed for a few more minutes on what he could’ve possibly gone to do before sleep finally came to claim you. You settled into bed next to Dean with a yawn, and his lips twitched upwards in his sleep when you wound your arms around him. 

***

The next morning around seven, you woke up to see Dean shuffling around and packing. 

“Look at you, early bird,” you said dryly, stretching. 

He turned slightly over his shoulder and smiled at you. “We gotta talk about Sam.”

You sat up, immediately alert. “Yeah, I know. I saw him leave last night.”

“And now, one of the bullets is missing from the Colt,” Dean huffed. “Dammit, Sam.”

“Let me take the lead on this one, okay?” you urged Dean, moving to the bathroom to brush your teeth and messy hair. “Promise I’ll let you get your two cents in, but I wanna see if he’ll fess up to it first.”

Dean seemed hesitant, but you saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror nod anyway. He approached you and gave you a kiss on the side of the head; you assumed in assurance that he would do what you said. 

***

Night fell, and none of you had said a word to each other. You sat in the back seat, of course, and Sam was in the passenger’s. You leaned back on the cool leather with crossed arms, waiting for someone to break. 

Finally, you’d had enough. “Got somethin’ you wanna tell us, Sam?”

He turned to you, and it was evident he was playing dumb. “It’s not your birthday, is it?”

You quirked a brow, unamused. “No.”

“...Happy Purim?” he laughed. “Dude, I don't know. I have no idea what you're talking about—”

Dean cut him off, seeming not to be able to help himself. “There's a bullet missing from the Colt. You want to tell me how that happened? I know it wasn't me. I know it wasn’t her. So unless you were shooting at some incredibly evil cans—”

“Dean…” Sam sighed. 

“You went after the crossroads demon, huh?” you said as more of a statement than a question. 

“After I told you not to,” Dean added harshly.

“Yeah, well…”

“You could have gotten yourself killed!” Dean roared.

“I didn’t,” Sam argued.

“And you shot her.”

“She was a smartass!”

Dean waited a moment, trying to gain his composure. “So, what? Does that— Does that mean I'm out of my deal?”

“Don't you think I might have mentioned that little fact, Dean?” Sam scoffed. “No. Someone else holds the contract.”

“I do believe I already told you that,” you reminded the boys. “And no one will fucking say who.”

“Of course, our best lead would be the crossroads demon. Oh, wait a minute…” Dean snarked. 

“That's not funny,” Sam said dryly. 

“No, it's not!” Dean yelled. “It was a stupid fuckin’ risk, and you shouldn't have done it.”

“I shouldn't have done it?” Sam challenged. “You're my brother, Dean. And no matter what you do, I'm gonna try and save you. And I'm sure as hell not gonna apologize for it, alright?”

The rest of the drive to the next case you’d stumbled upon was completely silent. 

***

You and the Winchesters posed as detectives once more to interview the great-aunt of the woman who’d drowned in the shower. The witness seemed particularly interested in Sam, which you were struggling to hold back a smile over. 

“But I don't understand,” the elegant, elderly woman said. “I already went over all this with the other detectives.”

“Right, yes,” Dean replied. “But, see, we're with the sheriff's department, not the police department – different departments.”

“So, Mrs. Case—”

“Please.” The woman’s voice had suddenly dropped an octave, likely attempting to seem sultry. “Ms. Case.”

Sam looked intensely uncomfortable. “Okay. Um, Ms. Case, um, you were the one who found your niece, correct?”

She nodded. “I came home; she was in the shower.”

“Drowned?” Sam asked.

“So the coroner says. Now, you tell me, how can someone drown in the shower?” Ms. Case’s eyes refused to leave Sam. 

“How would you describe Sheila's behavior in the days before her death? I mean, did she seem frightened? Maybe she said something out of the ordinary, or—”

Ms. Case suddenly cut Sam off. “Wait a minute. You're working with Alex, aren't you?”

Before you could voice your confusion, Dean started talking. “Yep. Absolutely. That's—” he laughed, “Alex and us, we're like this.”

“Why didn't you say so?” Ms. Case grinned. “Alex has been such a comfort. But I’m sorry, I thought the case was solved.”

You shook your head. “No, not yet.” “I see.” The woman seemed a bit dazed.

Sam cleared his throat. “So, anyways, we were talking about your niece.”

“Well, yes. Sheila mentioned something quite strange before she died. She said she saw a boat,” the woman explained. 

“A boat?” you questioned.

“Yes. One minute it was there, then it was gone. It just disappeared right before her eyes. You think it could be a…” the woman trailed off, seeming to search for the word, “—ghost ship? Alex thinks it could be a ghost ship.” You noticed that the elderly woman’s eyes still had not left Sam. 

The younger Winchester seemed thrown off by her intensity, and he coughed awkwardly. “Well, um, could be.”

“Well. You let me know if there's anything else I can do for you—” she traced her hand down Sam’s slowly, and you and Dean had to bite back smiles— “Anything at all.”

***

Your laughter burst out as soon as you got down the street and far enough away from the house that the old woman couldn’t see you. 

“What a crazy old broad,” Dean chuckled.

“Why? Because she believes in ghosts?” Sam scoffed.

You and his brother laughed louder. “Look at you, sticking up for your girlfriend. You cougar hound.”

“Bite me,” Sam grumbled. 

“No thanks,” you smirked, “bet she will, though.”

“So, who's this Alex? We got another player in town?” Dean questioned.

The brunet shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Doesn't change our job.”

“And what looked like a ghost ship, right?” 

“Yeah. It's not the first one sighted around here, either.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Really?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Every thirty-seven years, like clockwork, reports of a vanishing three-mast clipper ship out in the bay. And every thirty-seven years, a rash of weirdo, dry-land drownings.”

“So, whatever's happening is just getting started,” Dean sighed. “What's the lore?”

“Well, there are apparitions of old wrecks sighted all over the world. The S.S. Violet, the Griffin, the Flying Dutchman; almost all of them are death omens.”

“So, what happens? You see the ship and then a few hours later, you pucker up and kiss your ass goodbye?” the older brother snarked. 

“Basically,” shrugged Sam. 

“Next step?” you asked him. 

“I gotta I.D. the boat.”

“That shouldn't be too hard. I mean, how many three-mast clipper ships have wrecked off the coast?” you replied.

“I checked that, too, actually. Over one-hundred and fifty.”

“Oh, great!” you sarcastically noted. 

You and the Winchesters approached an empty parking spot, and you got increasingly confused as you did.

“This is where we parked the car, right?” Dean asked. 

“For sure,” you nodded. 

“Where's my car?” Dean growled. 

“Did you feed the meter?” Sam questioned. 

Dean’s voice began to rise in a panic. “Yes, I fed the meter. Guys, where's my car? Somebody stole my car!”

“Whoa, Dean!” you said, grabbing his arm and trying to keep him from pacing. 

“Somebody stole my ca—” Dean bent over to clutch his knees to calm down. 

“The '67 Impala? Was that yours?” A familiar voice slyly asked. 

“Oh, you bitch,” you grumbled, looking up to see Bela Talbot.

“I'm sorry. I had that car towed,” she said. 

Dean shot up. “You what?!” 

“Well, it was in a tow-away zone,” Bela replied simply. 

“No, it wasn’t!” Dean argued. 

“It was when I finished with it,” she smirked.

“What the hell are you even doing here?” the older brother questioned pointedly.

“A little yachting,” she responded flippantly. 

You clicked your tongue, realizing something. “You’re Alex. Workin’ with that old lady.”

“Gert's a dear old friend,” Bela nodded.

“Yeah, right. What's your angle?” Dean cut his eyes at her.

“There's no angle. There's a lot of lovely old women like Gert up and down the eastern seaboard. I sell them charms, perform séances so they can commune with their dead cats,” Bela grinned.

“And let me guess, it's all a con, none of it's real.”

“The comfort I provide them is very real.”

Sam jumped in finally. “How do you sleep at night?” 

“On silk sheets, rolling naked in money,” she scoffed. “Really, Sam. I'd expect the attitude from him, but you?”

“You shot me!”

“I barely grazed you.”

“She is right,” you murmured.

Bela turned to you. “Cute. But a bit of a drama queen, yeah?” 

“You do know what's going on around here. This ghost-ship thing, it is real,” Dean pressed.

“I'm aware. Thanks for telling Gert the case wasn't solved, by the way,” she said.

Dean looked at her like she was stupid. “It isn't.”

“She didn't know that. Now the old bag's stopped payment, and she's demanding some real answers. Look, just stay out of my way before you cause any more trouble. I'd get to that car if I were you. Before they find the arsenal in the trunk.” Bela turned around and smiled over her shoulder. “Ciao.”

You and the Winchesters watched her go. 

“Can I shoot her?” Dean growled. 

“Not in public,” you and Sam replied. 

***

You encountered Bela once more the next day when another man had been killed. She was posing as a reporter, but you and the brothers managed to shoo her away from the victim’s brother. Unfortunately for him, he’d seen the ship as well. 

Thankfully, you’d gotten the car back, and you headed over to it after questioning the man. It was parked a distance off from the buzzing crime scene, enabling Dean to begin loading shotguns in the back of his car. 

“I see you got your car back,” Bela’s frustratingly beautiful voice cooed. 

“You really want to come near me when I got a loaded gun in my hands?” Dean growled. 

“Now, now. Mind your blood pressure,” she quipped. “Why are you even still here? You have enough to I.D. the boat.”

“That guy back there saw the ship,” you explained. 

“Yeah? And?” 

You blinked at her, slightly stunned by her coldness. “And he’s going to die. We have to help him.”

“How sweet,” she mockingly pouted. 

“What is wrong with you, man?” you asked her. 

She ignored you. “He's cannon fodder. He can't be saved in time, and you know it.”

“But why not at least try?” you argued. 

“Yeah, well, I'm actually going to find the ship and put an end to this. But you have fun,” she grinned tightly. 

Sam and Dean moved to either side of the car, but you weren’t done with her yet. 

Dean seemed to know what you were up to as he watched you intently, saying,

“(Y/N)—” but it was too late. 

“Look, I don’t know what happened to you to make you such a heartless bitch, but I really and truly hope you heal from it soon. ‘Cause you’re a completely miserable person to be around,” you called after her. 

She turned around to you sharply with her arms crossed. “Don't you dare look down your nose at me. You're not better than I am.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think I am. In fact, I know I’m not. But at least I own it and try to be better.”

“Come on,” Bela scoffed. “You do this out of vengeance and obsession. You're all a stone's throw from being serial killers. Whereas I, on the other hand, I get paid to do a job, and I do it. So, you tell me, which is healthier?”

“Oh, god, if I didn’t hate you so much, we’d be such good friends,” you said, a lilt of sincerity in your voice. “But I gotta tell you, man, I’m really not concerned with which is healthier. I’m not even concerned with which is more “morally ethical.” What just… puzzles me about you is how you think that nasty attitude shields you.

"These two might not be able to see it,” you continued, nodding at Sam and Dean, “but I do. You are quite genuinely disappointed in yourself. I get it. The economy sucks, the bees are dying, and movies are all pretty much sequels now. Gotta put food on the table some kind of way. But why do it your way when you can’t even stand to look at yourself in the mirror? Pride. Because without your money and your attitude, you know you’re not half the woman you claim to be.”

“You talk too much,” Bela spat, clearly affected by your words. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

“All the time,” you smirked. “See ya around, Alex.”

***

Later that night, you and the Winchesters decided to stake out the home of Peter Warren, the man you’d spoken to earlier. He was next on the chopping block, and you desperately hoped you’d be able to stop the ghost in time. 

You knew that whatever Sam and Dean were talking about, they would catch you up later. And so, you decided to let your thoughts drag you into your own mind. 

You were aware of how harsh you’d been on Bela. The truth be told, you didn’t hate her at all. In fact, you admired her ambition. However, everything you’d told her had all been your real perception of her. You knew that everything about her was a facade. And for some reason, she really got under your skin. 

You supposed it was because you saw yourself in her. Maybe, if things had been different for you, you would have ended up just like her. Maybe you didn’t like seeing your reflection in her. 

“Hey, you!” someone called from outside the Impala. 

“I think we've been made,” Dean said to you and Sam. 

You followed him across the road to where Peter stood, yelling.

“What are you guys doing?! You watching me?”

“Sir, calm down. Please,” Sam coaxed, but to no avail. 

“You guys aren't cops!” he continued. “Not dressed like that. Not— Not in that crappy car.”

“Whoa, hey. No need to get nasty.” Dean cut his eyes at Peter.

“We are cops, okay? We're undercover,” Sam bluffed easily. “We're here because we think you're in danger.”

“From who?!”

“If you just settle down, we'll talk about it.” Sam led you and his brother into the gate, backing Peter closer to his car.

“Look, you guys just stay away from me!” Peter exclaimed, getting into the vehicle to drive it toward the gate.

“Wait!” you called.

“Hey, you moron! We're trying to help you!”

“Not helping, Dean!”

As the car approached the gate, it shuddered, coughed weakly, and died. 

“That can't be good,” Dean noted. 

“Not at all,” you replied. “Get the salt gun.” Next, you ran to the car to help Peter. In the seat behind him, a man with sunken eyes and dripping wet, long, black hair dressed in old sailor’s clothes appeared. Then, it was next to Peter in the passenger’s seat. You tugged on the handle with all your might, but it wouldn’t budge. Horrified, you watched as Peter slumped to the steering wheel with water pouring from his lips. 

“(Y/N)!” Dean called from behind you. 

You ducked just in time for Dean to fire at the ghost from the passenger’s side door. 

Reaching through the broken glass, you hurriedly unlocked the door. You immediately dragged Peter out onto the concrete and put your head to his chest, listening for a pulse. He had none, but you tried CPR anyway. Of course, it was no use. Defeated, you looked up at Dean with sad eyes. 

“Dammit!” he growled, kicking the car in frustration. 

***

You hadn’t spoken much after leaving Peter behind. It felt awful to leave him on the ground, but there wasn’t much you could do with his body if you wanted to evade suspicion. 

Luckily, Dean had found a house to squat in a few days earlier, and that was where you were readying for bed. 

The house had clearly not been lived in for some time, and you were thankful you made the brothers start keeping air mattresses on them for instances like these. 

You and Dean took the upstairs bedroom, and Sam slept in the one downstairs. The house was still furnished, but dust covered every surface. You decided to leave the cleaning for tomorrow and opted for a “ho bath” as your mother used to call them since you refused to step foot in the unclean shower. 

Cross-legged on the air mattress, the hair you were in the midst of combing through waved gently in the wind coming through the open window. 

“You wanna say it, or should I?” Dean raised an eyebrow at you as he entered the room after his shower. 

You tilted your head at him, confused. 

“You can’t save everybody, sweetheart,” he reminded you. 

“Dean—” You rolled your eyes. 

“What? Don’t gimme that. I know you were thinkin’ it,” Dean said, getting down onto the mattress next to you. He lounged back on the crook of his arm behind his head, leaning against the wall. 

You couldn’t meet his eyes and kept your body facing the open window on the adjacent wall. “I just… It feels like I can’t save anybody lately.”

Dean stared at you intently; you could feel his gaze burning a hole in the side of your head. 

You returned to brushing your hair, and he sat up to sweep it all over your shoulder opposite him. Dean kissed your newly-exposed neck gently, as if he was savoring the way you felt against his lips. Your brushing slowed, and you tilted your neck further to give him more access. 

He kissed up to your mouth; his kiss gentle there, too. When he broke away from you, Dean leaned his forehead against yours. 

“What are you doing to me, sweetheart?” His voice rumbled lowly in his chest, almost as if you weren’t supposed to hear him say that.

You responded by nudging his nose with yours and then pecking his lips. 

Something in the way the two of you kissed felt somber. Granted, almost every day recently seemed to have a somber element. Every day meant one step closer to Dean’s time being up. It was the elephant in the room that was only acknowledged for fleeting moments. And when one did acknowledge it, the other would beg for it to be over. While both of you knew talking about the situation was necessary, neither of you could bear it for longer than a few minutes every once in a while. 

You brought this up to Sam the next morning, who sat with you on the couch as the sun rose while Dean continued to sleep. 

“I think he just wants to be with you,” Sam said. “I mean, with Jess… when I was dreaming about her dying, all I wanted to do was be with her. To… reassure me that wasn’t real. Or, wasn’t real yet, I guess.”

You nodded. “And I don’t necessarily want to talk about it for extended periods of time. Talking about it makes me feel more in control, I think. I just don’t like feeling fucking helpless.”

“Trust me, I don’t either. And Dean definitely doesn’t. I tend to micromanage more than he does, but…” he shrugged, trailing off. 

“I have something else to tell you,” you began, wondering if you should even continue. 

“Go ‘head.”

“Back at that… prison. The guard I beat up? He, um, he raped me.”

“Oh, my god,” Sam breathed out. “God, (Y/N/N), I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine. That’s not the point.” You scrubbed your hands down your thighs anxiously. “I’m telling you because I don’t wanna talk to Dean about it. I mean, with the deal and everything else going on… I almost don’t wanna burden him with it? I mean, he knows, obviously, but… I don’t know, I just feel like I have no right to be struggling compared to him.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Sam scolded gently. “(Y/N), neither of us could ever imagine what that’s like. And if my idiot brother is making you feel that way—”

“No, no, he’s not—”

“—Good! ‘Cause I’d kill ‘im if he was,” Sam finished. It was honestly the most riled up you’d seen him in a while. 

“Thanks, Sammy,” you smiled weakly. “It’s just… it’s all so much right now. I wanna enjoy every second of my time with Dean. But between the deal and hunts and… that and everything else on the goddamn planet consuming me every second of the fucking day, it’s really hard to.”

Sam eyed you sympathetically.

Before he could respond, you took in a shaky breath, steadying yourself. “Anyway, what’s up with Peter and his brother? I know you researched ‘em yesterday while I was zoned out in the back of the car.”

Sam still seemed like he was wrapped up in your earlier conversation, but he knew better than to force you to keep talking about. “Oh, yeah, uh… they came into, like, a hundred and twelve million after their dad passed. That was really the only thing interesting. Everything else about ‘em was clean,” he informed you. 

“Huh,” you considered. “Any connection between the vics?”

Sam pursed his lips. “Far as I can tell, no.”

“Awesome,” you dryly stated. 

You then heard a groan come from upstairs as someone began to descend the staircase. 

“Morning, Dee,” you called up. 

All you got was a grunt in response. 

***

You sat with your knees pulled to your chest, wrapped by Dean’s arms as he held you to his side. The two of you were just sitting with each other and thinking; a pastime that you were becoming quite fond of.

Dean’s lazy circles he was tracing on your outer leg stopped at a knock on the door. 

You shot Dean a look and stood, grabbing your gun off the worn coffee table. You pressed it to the back of the door and peered through the peephole to unfortunately see Bela. At this revelation, you made a face at Sam and opened the door. 

She strolled right in. “Dear... god. Are you actually squatting? Charming.” Her self-satisfied smirk never left her face. “So, how'd things go last night with Peter?”

You refused to dignify her with a response as did Sam and Dean. 

“That well, huh?” she taunted. “If you say 'I told you so,’ I swear to god; I'll start swinging,” Dean growled. 

“Look, I think the four of us should have a heart-to-heart,” she sighed. 

“Oh, sure. We can sing kumbaya while we’re at it,” you quipped. “Cut to the chase, Bela.”

“Temper, temper,” she tsked. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Such as?” Sam questioned.

“I've ID'd the ship.” She unwrapped a leather case containing a quite elaborate file. She spread the papers within it across the table. “It's the Espírito Santo: a merchant sailing vessel; quite a colorful history. In 1859 a sailor was accused of treason. He was tried aboard ship in a kangaroo court and hanged. He was thirty-seven.”

“Which would explain the thirty-seven year cycle,” Sam noted.

“Aren’t you a sharp tack?”

You snapped, “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

She ignored your comment. “There's a photo of him somewhere…” she flipped through the file and finally settled on a picture of a much drier version of the man you’d seen last night.

Dean looked to Sam. “Isn't that the customer we saw last night?” 

“You saw him?” For once, Bela seemed surprised. 

“Yeah, that's him, except he was missing a hand,” the older brother nodded. 

“His right hand?” Bela questioned.

“How'd you know?” you returned. 

“The sailor's body was cremated, but not before they cut off his hand to make a hand of glory,” she explained. 

Dean childishly laughed. “A hand of glory? I think I got one of those at the end of my Thai massage last week.”

“Dean, the right hand of a hanged man is a serious occult object. It's very powerful,” Sam lightly chastised. 

Bela rolled her eyes. “So they say.”

“And officially counts as remains,” Dean considered. 

Sam’s eyebrows pinched together. “But still, none of this explains why the ghost is choosing these victims.”

“I'll tell you why. Who cares?” Bela said curtly. “Find the hand, burn it, and stop the bloody thing.”

“I don't get it. Why are you telling us all of this?” you asked.

“Because I know exactly where the hand is,” she nodded. 

“Where?”

“At the Sea Pines Museum. It's a macabre bit of maritime history. But I need help,” she said, closing up the file.

Sam crossed his arms. “What kind of help?”

The woman smiled. You hated how charming her smile was. You wanted to hate her so badly, but she was growing on you.

‘Definitely like a wart. Maybe a fungal infection,’ you thought.

***

“I hate this plan,” you said. 

“I don’t think you realize how often you say that,” Dean returned. 

You glared up at him while you helped adjust his tie. He looked completely beautiful, and you wanted nothing more than to keep him here with you and ravish his body. 

Bela’s brilliant plan was bringing Dean as her date and forcing Sam to go with Ms. Case to a charity event. However, given Bela and Ms. Case could only take one guest each, you were forced to sit this one out. Or, at least, that was what Bela thought; you knew she could’ve gotten you in if she really wanted to. You knew she was attempting to humiliate you or put you in your place after what you said to her. However, if there was one thing you knew, it was how to crash a party.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” Dean asked you. 

“You,” you smiled lopsidedly up at him. 

He smirked down at you and kissed you. He held you by your waist as close to him as he could get you, and you returned the gesture by gripping his lapels. 

“What is taking so long?” Bela called up the stairs, forcing you and Dean apart. “Sam's already halfway there... with his date.”

“So not okay with this!” Dean yelled back, and you giggled, resting your forehead on his chest.

“What are you, a woman? Come down already.”

Dean looked at you— for approval? For reassurance?— and headed down the stairs. He adjusted his cufflinks with you trailing just behind him in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Bela looked beautiful in her evening gown and glittering jewels, of course, and you hated her all the more for it. 

“Alright, get it out,” Dean encouraged you and Bela. “I look ridiculous.”

“Not exactly the word I'd use,” Bela sighed. 

Dean’s nose crinkled in disgust. “What?”

“Y’know, when this is over, we should really have angry sex,” Bela stated plainly.

“Don’t objectify him!” you cut her off; perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. 

Both Dean and Bela stared at you in questioning. 

“Let’s go,” Dean told Bela. “See ya, sweetheart,” he called back to you as he followed Bela out the door. He tossed one more longing look at you over his shoulder before closing the door behind him. 

You immediately sprinted back up the stairs and took out the evening gown you’d been hiding in your duffel bag. 

***

After having snuck into the party through a window on the back of the museum that security had neglected to cover a door anywhere near, you casually slipped down the hall into the ballroom. 

You could see Dean, Bela, and Sam bickering near the entrance to the grand ballroom, and you smiled lopsidedly at the sight. Sam then caught sight of you moving through the crowds of people toward them thanks to his superhuman height, as did Bela and then, Dean. Bela crossed her arms angrily, but you were focused on Dean and trying to fight a smile off your face. 

Dean seemed to be breathless. “Damn, (Y/N).” 

“Damn, yourself.” You turned to Bela. “Great party,” you commented, taking a glass of champagne off a passing tray. 

“Thought you were supposed to be waiting back at the house,” Bela replied. 

“And miss all the fun? No thanks,” you smirked, taking a sip and staining the glass with red lipstick. 

Ms. Case then came up behind Sam holding two glasses of champagne. Before he knew it, he was being whisked away by his date. You giggled at the sight, and Bela rolled her eyes. “C’mon,” she told Dean. 

You were delighted, actually. For once, you got to enjoy a fancy party without having to partake in the hunt or any sort of planning the heist. All you had to do was make sure no one got arrested. 

You hung back on a far wall, sipping your beverage and watching a disgruntled Sam dance with a very handsy Ms. Case. 

‘Dean would be pissing himself,’ you thought, giggling at the sight. 

The next thing you knew, the old woman was whispering in Sam’s ear. You had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep the laugh from bursting out. 

And then, your joy was smothered. 

“Hi, gorgeous,” a man said, having come up next to you. 

“Go away, please,” you snapped, beginning to feel tension grip your throat. You weren’t sure what it was about him, but he was reminding you of what happened to you at the prison. Perhaps it was the way he approached you?

“Okay, then, Jesus,” he muttered and was gone soon after. 

Your breathing began to slow, but your discomfort continued. Your heart rate remained elevated, and your mind felt in a fog. You returned your focus to Sam and Ms. Case once more trying to keep your mind grounded in the present. 

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your elbow. You whipped around and threw a punch, catching the attention of several people around you.

“Whoa!” Dean said, catching your wrist and dodging your fist. 

Gaze landing on those beautiful green eyes and freckles that you had come to love so much, your breathing finally slowed. You began regaining awareness of the world around you and tried not to shrink under the stares of the wealthy around you.

“Way to not draw attention there, (Y/N),” Bela commented. 

Eyes like daggers, your head snapped toward her. “Watch your fucking mouth,” you hissed.

She seemed to realize she’d crossed a boundary, and she backed off. “I’m gonna go get Gert a cold shower,” she quipped, her pride refusing to admit she knew she was wrong. 

You stared after Bela mindlessly, and Dean put his first and middle finger under your chin to turn your face back to him. Your eyelashes flickered, and he searched your face for clues as to what triggered you. 

Sam came up beside you and Dean. “Guys? Uh, hate to interrupt, but… let’s get outta here.” 

You and Dean followed his gaze to one of the women you’d seen whispering and pointing at you after you threw a punch at Dean talking to a security guard and pointing at your trio. Dean instantly grabbed your hand and began leading you out of the museum. 

When you arrived at the car, Sam turned to you. “You okay? Saw you try to deck Dean back there.”

“Yeah, uh… this guy just—” you ran a hand through your hair and sighed— “Nevermind. Let’s see the hand.”

Both boys dropped it, although you knew Sam would probe you further later. 

“Yeah, tell me I didn't get groped all night by Mrs. Havisham for nothing,” the younger brother commented. 

“I got it... Mrs. Who?” Dean wondered. 

You giggled. “Great Expectations?” you prompted.

Dean just stared at you blankly. 

“Charles Dickens?”

He blinked. 

“Dude, did you pay any attention in high school English?” Sam scoffed.

“Sure I did!” the older brother defended. “Caroline Stone sat in front of me; she was my tutor. Fucked her in the janitor’s closet and everything—”

“Oh, yeah, you were definitely paying attention to something,” you deadpanned, lightly flicking him on the shoulder. 

He rustled around in his suit jacket, rolling his eyes, and took out something wrapped in a handkerchief. Dean’s amused expression soon melted into aggravation as he did so.

“What?” you and Sam asked worriedly. 

The older Winchester held up a glass bottle with a miniature ship rocking around in it. “I'm gonna kill her.”

Behind Dean, you saw something on the horizon line. The museum was expectedly located near the water given its emphasis on seafaring history, and your heart dropped when you realized what was happening. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered under your breath. “Dean— Dean, I see it.”

“See what?” he asked, following your gaze. 

“The fucking ship, Dean. It’s the fucking ship,” you breathed out.

“(Y/N), that’s it,” Sam realized.

“What’s it?” you questioned frantically, eyes still on the water.

“Ms. Case said the Warrens? The brothers? It was rumored they killed their father for his money. And Sheila? She got in a car accident. Her cousin Brian was with her, and he died. That’s the pattern.”

You nodded slowly. “Killing family members. Awesome.” You shook your head, turning to the expensive car next to you. “Fuck!” you yelled, punching the door of the car. 

***

You paced around the room, Sam trying his best to keep you and Dean calm while he researched. 

“Y’know what, you’re right. I'm not gonna kill her. I think slow torture's the way to go,” Dean growled. “I’ll fuckin’ string her up, I swear to—”

“Dean, look, you gotta relax,” Sam sighed, although he seemed stressed as well. 

“Relax!” Dean laughed coldly. “Oh yeah, yeah, I'll relax. My fuckin’ girl’s just on Davy Jones’s hit list, and I can’t do anything to stop him because I lost the only fuckin’ thing we could use to save her. Fuck!” There was suddenly a frantic knocking on the door. Disgust burning in your eyes when you looked through the peephole, you opened the door for Bela. 

“Just let me explain,” she said. “I sold it. I had a buyer lined up as soon as I knew it existed.” 

Dean was completely furious, and he stalked around her. He made a shooting motion with his fingers which would’ve pulled a smile for you had it not been for your situation. 

“So you needed a cover for the charity ball,” you spat. “And we were convenient.”

She nodded reluctantly.

“Look, you sold it to a buyer. Just go buy it back,” Sam implored. 

Bela shook her head woefully. “It's halfway across the ocean. I can't get it back in time.”

“In time for what?” Dean questioned. 

Realization struck you, and you began laughing coldly. “Oh, okay. You saw it, too.”

She looked up at you, and for the first time since you’d met her, Bela looked terrified.

Dean whistled lowly. “Wow, you know, I- I knew you were an immoral, thieving, con-artist bitch, but just when I thought my opinion of you couldn't get any lower—”

“What are you talking about?” she cut him off. 

“We figured out the spirit’s motive,” Sam began, putting a photograph in front of Bela. “This is the captain of our ship. The one who hung our ghost boy.”

“So?” she prompted. 

“So they were brothers. Very Cain and Abel. So now our spirit, he's going after a very specific kind of target – people who've spilled their own family’s blood. See, first, there was Sheila who killed her cousin in the car accident, and the Warren brothers, who murdered their father for the inheritance. Then, (Y/N). And now you.”

“Oh, my god,” Bela breathed out, seeming to breeze right by the fact that you’d seen the ship, too. 

“So who was it, Bela? Hmm?” Dean taunted. “Who'd you kill? Was it Daddy? Your little sis, maybe?”

“It’s none of your business,” she defended weakly. 

“It is our fuckin’ business,” Dean snapped, suddenly leaning on the arms of her chair. “(Y/N) saw it, too. And I don’t give a damn about you. But (Y/N)... is…” he trailed off, shaking his head and hanging it low, seemingly overcome with emotion. “And you just sold the one thing that could possibly save her life.”

“Well,” Sam said, “maybe not the only thing.”

All three of you turned to face Sam questioningly. 

***

Kneeling on the soft grass beside the grave of the captain, you helped the boys set up a ritual circle under the light of the full moon. 

“Do you really think this is going to work?” Bela asked worriedly, standing to the side. She pulled her jacket around her shoulders tightly.

“Almost definitely not,” Dean grumbled, looking over at you. 

You smiled weakly at him trying to reassure him that you would be okay.

Thunder clapped unexpectedly, and the wind whistled around you. Rain began to pour, soaking you to the bone in an instant.

“Sammy! You better start reading!” Dean ordered, pulling you up from the ground and shielding you with his body.

The younger brother obeyed, and then, Bela shouted, “Behind you!”

Dean was immediately flung through the air away from you, and you wheeled around to see the ghost you’d seen at the Warren’s house. Before you could raise your gun to shoot him, he put his hands on either side of your head. Immediately, you began coughing up water. It felt like your throat was closing as the air slowly left your panicking body. 

Dean staggered over to you and tried to support you through your heaving, shuddering breaths. “Sammy, read faster!”

Black spots began to form in your vision, and you were sure it was the end. Then, the rain died down. The wind billowed gently, and the spirit’s head turned slowly toward a creaking sound.

“You... hanged me!” the spirit cried at his brother. 

“I’m sorry,” the captain responded pitifully. 

“Your own brother.”

“I’m so sorry!”

The spirit charged his brother, leaving you a sputtering mess on the floor. You heard the two men scream, and then, they both went quiet. 

***

After parting ways with Bela for the evening, you returned to the house for a few hours of sleep. However, laying next to Dean— the moon illuminating his freckled skin and occasionally-fluttering eyelashes, breaths deep enough to move his chiseled shoulders along with his chest— you couldn’t sleep. Since he’d drifted off about an hour ago, you’d been lazily stroking his hair; the two of you facing each other. 

Then, Dean took in a deep breath, stretching out on his back. It became clear to you that he’d woken up, though his eyes remained closed, when he kissed the inside of your wrist. Soon enough, his breathing became steady once more. He kept you snuggled tightly into his right side; legs intertwined and breathing beginning to mirror each other’s. 

And then, it hit you: you’d felt oddly at peace, as much as you’d tried to deny it, when the ghost put his hands on the sides of your head. Even when you were in excruciating pain— lungs burning and eyes watering— you were almost relieved. Because if you’d died tonight, that meant you wouldn’t have to live without Dean. 

***

Given your realization the previous evening, you wandered around in a daze all morning. You had never enjoyed depending on others. Needing help was so pathetic in your mind, and you refused to ask for it. Despite the way you encouraged Dean to open up and accept help, you couldn’t take your own advice. After your mother’s devotion to your father led her to standing by idly while her two children were beaten black and blue, you swore that you would never let a man rule your life in any sense of the word. And now, Dean was consuming you. 

However, this devotion didn’t feel hopeless. It didn’t feel messy. You didn’t feel your essence deteriorating while he hacked away, carving space and indelibly marking your soul. This devotion was welcomed. Allowed. Encouraged. You were willingly handing your beating heart to him, and you knew you could take it back at any time.

Before Dean, you never trusted anyone. You would never have allowed someone to walk beside you through Hell before you met him. Try as others might have, Dean was the only person to mesh harmoniously with your body, mind, and soul. 

When Bela came to say her goodbyes, though, you forced yourself out of your thoughts. After she’d thoroughly amused Dean with the ten thousand dollars she gave the three of you to repay her debt, she swaggered out of the door. You surprised even yourself when you followed her out. 

“Bela!” you called.

She turned back to you. “Sorry, darling, all out of goodies for the day—”

“I don’t want your money,” you cut her off. “I wanted you to know that… whatever you did, I understand. The boys may never, but I saw the ship, too. Whether we like it or not, we’re pretty similar; you and me.”

She seemed stunned by your admission. 

“Take my number,” you told her, pressing a piece of paper into her hand. “If ever you feel like slummin’ it for a crappy beer in a dive bar. Or if you run into any more ghost ships.”

That stunned Bela even more as you turned on your heel and headed back inside. 

*** “Seriously? Atlantic City?” Sam scoffed. 

Dean had you speeding toward a casino with the money Bela gave you as night fell that evening. “Hell yeah! Play some roulette. Always bet on black.” He paused for a minute, allowing the air to shift in the car. “Hey listen, I've been doing some thinking. Um... I want you to know I understand why you did it. I understand why you went after the crossroads demon.”

Sam sighed, much to your surprise. You figured he’d be thankful to hear Dean’s admission. 

“Y’know, situation was reversed,” Dean continued, “I guess I'd 've done the same thing. I mean, I'm not blind, I see what you're going through with this whole deal; me going away and all that. But you're gonna be okay.”

Sam looked upset at that. “You think so.”

“Yeah, you'll keep hunting, y'know, you live your life. You’re stronger than me.” At Sam’s scoff, Dean exclaimed, “You are! You are. You'll get over it. But I want you to know I'm sorry, I’m sorry for... putting you through all this, I am.”

“Y’know what, Dean? Go fuck yourself,” Sam spat. 

“What?” Dean questioned. You were stunned as well.

“I don't want an apology from you! And by the way, I'm a big boy now, I can take care of myself,” Sam continued his tirade.

“Oh, well, excuse me,” Dean grumbled. 

“So would you please quit worrying about me?” Sam shouted over his brother. “I mean, that's the whole problem in the first place. I don't want you to worry about me, Dean, I want you to worry about you! I want you to give a crap that you’re dying!”

“He does, Sam, knock it off!” you jumped in for the first time. After all, it was you that had planted the seed to Dean that he should have apologized to Sam.

Dean said nothing, and you could tell by the smirk on his face that he wouldn’t be displaying vulnerability with Sam again for quite some time. 

“So, that's it? Nothing else to say for you?” Sam pushed. 

“I think maybe I'll play craps,” Dean stated.

Outraged, Sam just stared at him in complete disbelief. He turned to the window, and you continued to watch Dean. His smile faded to a steely, difficult-to-read expression.

Sighing, you settled stretched out across the seat and crossed your arms over your chest. Dean’s eyes met yours briefly in the rearview mirror, and you saw a flicker of his real feelings— hurt, betrayal, fear— cross his face before his expression returned to unreadable. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[cherry-pop-elf]

Break Him Back

Anya x Reader

SUM: YOU were who Anya confided in…

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Rape, Rape After math, unwanted pregnancy, Jimmy, violence, written by someone who’s a victim of sexual assault

“Anya? What’s the matter? It’s the middle of the night. I think…It’s in the middle of sleeping hours.” You tried to joke lightly, in the hopes to calm whatever nerves she had, but it seemed to not get a laugh out of her. Not this time.

“I….Can….Do you….I need to tell you something. I need to tell someone, but I don’t know who. I think you. You will believe me and understand. Right?”

This was making you confused. What’s she going on about? Did she have a nightmare? You sure knew a thing or two about those. Nightmares can feel so real sometimes. Probably just shaken up from it.

“Come on in my room. Come on Doc.” You would user her in, and she was quick to follow. Quick to just sit on your bed. Sit and pretty much curl up on herself. As if she had the world’s worst stomach ache. You figured it’s the nerves from the nightmare.

You would sit down next to her, as she just stared into no real direction. It was towards the floor but her eyes just didn’t really seem to look there. Was like her soul was somewhere else while her body remained. Like she was looking from above, like some third person view.

She just wasn’t really there.

“Anya? What’s up? Nightmare?” You asked, as you would rub her back. The way she flinched away from your touch seemed to be what made her finally have the ability to see through her eyes again. See, and have tears trickle down.

“I wish it was.” She whispered to you, as she squeezed at her stomach more. Was like she was trying to crush her own organs. Was making you more scared. The hell has her so damn rattled? She’s a Nurse. Isn’t it hard to rattle people like that?

“I’m…..I….Oh what do I even say?” She just couldn’t raise her voice. Was like she was terrified of someone overhearing them. That someone would hurt her.

“Hey hey. Deep breathes. I’m right here. You can tell me anything. We’ve been friends for ages. Whatever happened I’m here to listen.” You would do your best to comfort. You didn’t want to attempt to touch her again so you were trying your best to use words.

Was a long silence now. You didn’t rush her. She needed to get a chance to collect herself. Figure out how to speak whatever is needed. You were willing to wait forever for her. You loved her after all.

“I….Would this count as cheating?”

You blinked at that. Made your heart drop to.

Was she saying she cheated on you?

No no. That’s not your Anya. You weren’t going to jump the gun. Something clearly has her shaken. Maybe she was just struggling with words. You were going to let her speak before doing anything rash.

“I…..I’m pregnant.”

The bombshell made you feel dizzy. What does she mean she was pregnant? That was impossible. There was no way. At least not between you to at least. That was what you knew for as a fact. No way.

That meant it was someone else.

Daisuke? No way. Definitely not him. He’s genuinely a wonderful kid. He was so kind and sweet, and had so many other things to think about. Not to mention he was a shitty liar. If he and Anya had something going on there was zero chance no one wouldn’t know. Especially Swansea. They spent to much time together.

Speaking of him you tried to think about Big Swan next.

That was also impossible. Why? Well he got a vasectomy. Was even in his medical reports. Sure they weren’t 100% but like 99.99% is still impossibly small. Not to mention you lowkey doubt he could get it up anymore anyway. But you were keeping that to yourself. He may be sober but you recall that he and his wife struggled to have kids for a while.

Could it be the Captain? Captain Curly? He and her were close, but you also just couldn’t imagine it. Why? Well his ass was gay. Unless Anya suddenly had a transition you weren’t aware of you were certain he wouldn’t be remotely attracted to her.

Last was….

Jimmy.

Jimmy had been a massive creep to Anya the moment the ship took off. Always finding excuses to be alone with her, making unwarranted comments about her body, touching her at any chance he could, and just over all being a major creep. Had gotten to the point where Curly out right ordered him to knock it off. You even overheard him telling Swansea to keep an eye on Jimmy. To find his own reason to be in the room if he isolated himself with her.

That’s when your soul left your body.

Would this count as cheating?

Oh god.

Oh god.

Oh god no.

“When did this happen?” You weren’t sure how your voice came out. You were holding back anger. Not to Anya. No. Never. She did nothing wrong. It was Jimmy and Jimmy alone.

“About a month ago. At first I thought it was a rather real nightmare. That I was just dreaming. That what happened was just me being afraid of him. During it I had blacked out and I just assumed that meant I fell back asleep with in the dream. Then I started having symptoms. Symptoms that were too coincidental to be ignored. I took a test and…..Here I am.”

She sniffled, and that was the only thing to make your rage subside. For now anyway. You had to be there for her right now. She needed you. You would control your emotions for her. She needed someone. She needed you.

“Whatever happens next happens next. Alright? You want to get rid of it we will find a way. If you wanna keep it we will find a way to take care of them until we can get back home. Alright? This doesn’t make me love you any less. This doesn’t make me see you as broken or damaged goods. You aren’t any less my girlfriend as the day I asked you to be mine. We will get through this.”

She would keep sniffling into your shoulder, as you laid down with her. Holding her as tightly as you could, while your eyes remained glued to your door. Just as much expecting Jimmy to break in as she did.

“Does he know?”

She nodded.

“He said it was my problem, not his.” She hiccuped, as she just squeezed you tighter. The only thing to calm her down was you. You were who she trusted. You were who she loved. You were what kept her going.

You didn’t get any sleep that night, and you didn’t care.

You didn’t care.

You were too busy thinking over what to do next.

As the hours went on you tried to think.

The ship wasn’t exactly built to house prisoners. There was still a year left to the journey. Murder couldn’t just be the answer. Well you were certainly planning murder but you were doubtful Curly was gonna allow murder on his ship. Justified or not.

The hell were you going to do?

Teach him a lesson that’s what.

Beat him until he was unable to ever lay hands on anyone again.

With that made up you would suddenly hear your alarm go off. Anya would rub at her eyes, as you realized you really didn’t get sleep at all. Just kept her close and safe. Least you knew no one was touching her.

You two would get dressed for the day, since you two were a couple there was a spare jumpsuit for her in your closet of course, and make the journey to the kitchen. Determination was on your face, as Anya just meekly held your arm for support.

There the rest of the crew was. There like nothing had happened at all. Curly was working on making coffee for everyone, Swansea was fighting to wake up, Daisuke was sitting on the counter with his feet swinging, and there was Jimmy. There ever at Curly’s side. Like some tumor.

“Morning guys!” Daisuke would wave happily, as Anya gave a meek one in return. Swansea would give a ‘huh wha-?’ Like the dad he was, while Curly turned and flashed his brilliant smile. Jimmy? Didn’t even acknowledge you two.

Oh that made you burn with anger.

Wasn’t even so much as a thought about her.

She was nothing.

“Curly, I’ll handle coffee for us. You go and sit down. Rest. I know you’ve been working to hard.” You tried to keep calm, and plastered a fake smile.

“Oh aren’t you kind. Thank you.” He would step away from where he had been, and soon joined Swansea at the table. The voice to keep him awake as Daisuke joined with Anya. Everyone away, while Jimmy remained in the kitchen nook. Curious as to why you had offered.

You would keep your fists clenched at your side, as you now stood next to him. Eyes glued to the coffee maker in-front of you both. A painful silence was shared between you both. Was like the voices at the table didn’t even exist. Was just the two of you.

He would side eye you, and you side eyed him back.

For a brief moment, you swore he knew that you knew. That you knew what he did.

But as quickly as he showed it, that vanished from his eyes.

As if it was nothing more than just accidentally bumping into her in the hallway.

That’s when you snapped.

“I hope this hurts-“

You grabbed the handle of the coffee pot and SMASHED it against his face. Boiling hot coffee splashed everywhere. Including on yourself. You could hardly notice, as you were pinning him to the ground.

“THE HELL YOU DOING?!”

Not often Curly swore, as if Hell even was one but if anything that showed how hard it was to get him rilled up. Guess seeing your best friends face be full of glass, skin suffering second to third degree burns, and screaming bloody murder is gonna set everyone on edge.

You didn’t really care. All you saw was red. Pretty sure you didn’t even blink. You just were wailing on him. Adrenalin was pumping through your veins. Made any pain you felt not compute. You just needed to beat Jimmy into a pulp.

“KID GET OFF OF HIM-!” Swansea would pull you off him, while Curly pulled Jimmy away from you. Meanwhile Daisuke was standing infront of Anya. Willing to use himself as a shield to protect her before himself. Even so young he knew where he stood.

“THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” The two men shouted, while Jimmy was sobbing into Curly. Using him as some kind of shield. Like he would be saved by his Captain.

“What’s wrong with me?! WHATS WRONG WITH HIM?!” You snapped back, as you tried to pull away from Swansea. To try and keep beating him over and over. Curse him for having that mechanic strength.

“All he was doing was standing there and doing nothing!” Curly would shout at you, as he tried to look over the wounds. To see what he could do.

“Anya please hurry over here-!”

But she refused.

She refused.

“Anya?! Anya come over here! Please! Don’t make me order you!” He shouted, but she just stepped further away.

Curly was so confused.

That’s when you fixed that.

“That man you are holding there RAPED ANYA! Not only that, he got her PREGNANT! AND HE TOLD HER IT WAS HER PROBLEM NOT HIS.”

That’s when everyone went silent. All except Jimmy and Daisuke.

Jimmy kept hissing and crying in pain, while Daisuke was throwing up. Poor kid. So much was running through everyone’s head now. That they had been talking to, being friends with, living with a monster.

That’s when Swansea let you go.

Did he do it because he was in shock? Maybe his way of saying to keep beating Jimmy? You didn’t know. You just knew Curly looked more sick than even Anya.

“There….There has to be a misunderstanding….”

You wanted to smack Curly for saying that, but at the same time you couldn’t help but sympathize.

Would you believe someone if they told you your best friend raped someone?

Would you not beg to hear the full story? To get the full picture?

Wouldn’t you want to fight for their innocents?

Wouldn’t you have a moment of denial?

Wouldn’t you?

“It’s true…I have the test results to prove it. Prove he….Prove he did what he did.” Anya would do her best to speak for herself. It was so hard, but she knew she had to. She had to so that maybe others could be saved.

Saved from him.

“I…Maybe the test came back wrong. Did you take a second test?” The more Curly talked the more you wanted to beat him next. Luckily Swansea grabbed you again. How he grabbed you wasn’t to keep you from beating people. Just held you close. Like a father to a daughter who came home crying.

“Yes. I wanted to be sure of course. Of course. Even a third time. It was positive. He hurt me.” Anya would nod, as Curly looked down to Jimmy. To see him looking so pathetic in his arms. Face scorched, bleeding, full of tears, and looking like shit.

The captain would look to everyone. Scanned each face carefully. How Swansea was looking down at Jimmy with disgust, the way Daisuke was unable to even look towards the kitchen but still fought his stomach to hold Anya in a comforting hug. When his eyes landed on hers. To see them so glassy…He just knew.

“What have you done, Jimmy?”

If it was hypothetical or not, you’ll never know.

You just knew that right now you were sitting in the co-pilot seat. Helping monitor the asteroid belt the Tulpar was traveling through.

Anya was busy with patching up Swansea after he got a nasty cut on his arm from working in a vent.

Daisuke himself was currently bringing a tray to what was once Anya’s room. With the help of the skills of a mechanic, and the curious mind of someone who has played quite the handful of secret passage way games, they were able to turn a once bedroom into a makeshift prison cell.

A place to insert food, a gap to look inside, all the works. Thank goodness each bedroom had its own bathroom.

“Here’s lunch…” Daisuke would push the tray in, and didn’t even stay a second longer.

Even he couldn’t give him a passing smile.

He would just return back to the med-bay. A smile for Anya plastered on him, as that made her beam in return.

A smile she deserved.

A smile that Jimmy will only see again when he’s in handcuffs, and behind real bars.

A smile that said…

Rot. In. Hell.