#Police Story III
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Michelle Yeoh, Samuel L. Jackson and Jackie Chan at the US premier of Supercop aka Police Story III (1992)
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Jackie Chan
Michelle Yeoh
1992âs âPolice Story IIIâ
#supercop#police story#police story iii#jackie chan#michelle yeoh#1992#hong kong cinema#hong kong action#Cantonese#90s movies
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Jackie Chan never let his female leads do their own stunts - except for Michelle Yeoh.
Why? "She'd kick my ass".
Do not mess with ballet dancers!!
*She'd never even ridden a motorcycle before the stunt.
#BAMF#Michelle Yeoh#ballet#stunts#Police Story III#Youtube#motorcycle stunt#Hong Kong cinema#Yes that's the captain of the Enterprise in Star Trek Discovery#Do not mess with ballet dancers!#Yes that's the woman from âCrouching Tiger - Hidden Dragonâ#Jackie Chan
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âThey should ask James Bond.â
èŠćŻæ
äșïŒè¶
çŽèŠćŻ (Police Story III - Super Cop), 1992.
Dir. Stanley Long | Writ. Edward Tang, Ma Fibe & Yee Lee Wai | DOP Ardy Lam
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I could have chosen ANY (or almost any) books to do my paper on and I settled on Fear of Flying by Erica Jong and Herland by Charlotte Perkins Gilman.
Gilman is a much better short story writer. I did one of my other grad papers on her short stories.
I thought Jong was one of my favorite writers but after that I don't think so. Her poetry was much better than her novel but also I read her poetry when I was literally manic so I don't trust my old opinion of her. :/
#yes Gilman is the yellow wallpaper author and that is her magnum opus (and her other short stories) NOT Herland#this was just a bad choice all around#I wanted to read both those books pretty badly until I actually read them#so very bad paper topic choice but we roll any way#Jong's book just made me glad to be single because a lot of her male characters were repulsive!!! (barf)#also Isadora annoyed me- GET A GRIP GIRL#fear of flying#herland#I read both these books in December#I'm currently reading about Branwell Bronte (Anne Emily and Charlotte's unfortunate brother)#Daphne Du Maurier did a biography on him#I'm also reading Josephine Tey's Daughter of Time where a police investigator tries to solve the mystery of Richard III#both are wayyyy more interesting to me#I still like to read just not whatever they are trying to force on me at school. I'm over it!#so this is kind of a bookblr still (I'm planning to post book covers soon maybe for my monthly read or something?)#books#bookblr#mychatter
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Digital Noise Episode 236: John Story 3: Supercritic DIGITAL NOISE EPISODE 236: JOHN STORY 3: SUPERCRITIC Chris and John have a towering stack of home releases to review that range from all-time HK action classics, to the most surreal yakuza films ever made. From the latest but not greatest in a long-running boxing franchise, to aliens from another world fighting dinosaurs on Earth.⊠Read More »Digital Noise Episode 236: John Story 3: Supercritic read more on One of Us
#4k#65#Blu-Ray#Branded to Kill#Creed III#Criterion. 88 Films#Digital Noise#Fist of the Condor#Hand of Death#Home Releases#Kino Lorber#Max Fleischers Superman#movie review#Police Story III: Supercop#Shazam: Fury of the Gods#The Experts#The Longest Yard#Blu-ray#film#Home releases#Movie Review#podcast
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Yandere Batfamily x Neglected & "Immortal" Reader ă II
Part I Part III Part IV
Thank you so much for the love for the first one! đ There are so many ways I can imagine how this story can go and it's hard to pick one or try merging all the ideas. Nonetheless, I hope this meets your expectations!
CW: Stalking, Breaking and entering, Violence(Being stabbed, beating up a thief), Blood, (Menstion of past) Kidnapping
You had officially moved into your apartment in Bludhaven
Everything has moved so quickly and now you can finally relax
You gave up connecting with your family, got kidnapped, died, came back to life and moved out
It may be a bit much to pick the farthest college from the manor but youâre clearly unwanted there
Your family has neglected you and didn't do anything when you were kidnapped, so you have every right to be as far away from them as possible
It was honestly quite lucky that you were already accepted into a college in Bludhaven during your senior year. If you had applied after your kidnapping, the chances of you getting in would have been low.
But youâre here now and can finally feel happy. Well, if you don't count some of the nightmares you get from when you âdiedâ.
Sometimes you do wonder how you survived that gunshot. Were you not hit somewhere vital? But then, where was the hole?
A part of you was curious and wanted to replicate the injury but that would be painful. You surviving the gunshot also could have been a one-time thing
You never ended up going to the police or the hospital because what were they going to do? You donât have any proof that it even happened because your injury is gone, the blood left at the abandoned building is likely dried up and doesnât look fresh, and Bruce probably threw away the ransom letter.
The only proof you have that it even happened is your memories and you telling your friends. But the police or doctors would just look at you and say âYou look fine now, no need to look into the situation anymore.â
But enough about that though, youâve got a few more hours before it gets dark and you want to get to know about the area.
It is still the middle of summer so your college classes haven't started yet. You could have waited until class started to move but you wanted to be out before Alfred returned from his vacation.
Alfred was the closest thing to family in the manor. But he and Bruce have never felt like safe adults to share your problems with.
He should be back from his vacation now, has he found out about your kidnapping or did Bruce cover it up? He probably did to avoid getting news out. You should probably look into how you can change your surname.
Just as you finish your thoughts about the manor, you use your laptop to find interesting places in the area before heading out the door with directions in a notebook
Bruce and the rest of the family may know where you are currently, but bringing you back home was the hard part. Alfred had to convince Bruce that if he wanted you back, he shouldnât just barge in all of a sudden.
Youâve been hurt by the family's actions and won't return without a fight.
But even then, Bruce has to see you. The entire family needs to see you with their own eyes at least once.
With this in mind, the whole family decides to take a small road trip to Bludhaven. Theyâd find you and figure out the best way to approach you without scaring you off.
It was almost sundown when the family got to Bludhaven. They change into their vigilante gear so itâd be easier to hide in the shadows
Tim loads up the tracker on your phone and leads the way. It seems the tracker you have isn't the best because once the family gets close to your apartment, your phone just says your laptop is nearby instead of its exact location.
No problem though, Tim can easily hack into the computer system for the apartment and find which room is yours.
Once your room is found, the family takes a peek inside. Youâre nowhere to be found, which is a little worrying.
The locks on your windows are broken as the family opens them and sneaks inside. Your living room and kitchen are littered with boxes but thatâs it. They each take a look around to find you but come out empty-handed. If you were here, they may do exactly what Alfred discouraged and just take you home. However, because you arenât home, the only other place you could be is outside. Where itâs dark out and youâre alone.
Worried for your safety, the family immediately goes on another search for your
Because you could be anywhere, the family decides to split up to find you
You look around as you walk back to your apartment, a few small bags of food and snacks in your hands. Because itâs getting dark, you do begin to pick up the pace. Youâre so focused on not getting home that you donât notice when a person peeks over at you from a rooftop.
Youâre just about to pass a convenience store when someone runs out and knocks into you. The person curses as they quickly get up and reach for their bag of stolen goods. Filled with adrenaline, the thief takes out a knife and stabs you. They were aiming to kill you so there werenât any witnesses but ended up putting the knife in your shoulder. As the thief makes a run for it, a certain vigilante quickly blocks their path
Nightwing goes full force on the thief. How dare they hurt his baby bird. He refuses to make the same mistake of leaving you alone and hurt.
Your heart is racing as you attempt to pull the knife out of your shoulder. Your eyelids feel weak but you refuse to fall asleep. Unlike before, you arenât restrained and can still escape.
You pull the knife out and let it fall on the ground next to you. After a few breaths, you do your best to stand up. You take a small glance at Nightwing before quickly running back to your apartment.
Once inside, you almost collapse on the floor but try to get your first aid kit.
Your bandaging may not be that good but the best but itâs enough for you to feel comfortable sleeping for the night
Nightwing got a few swings in before he heard the sound of something falling onto the ground
He looks up to see that you've pulled the knife out of you and about to stand up
Before Nightwing could help you, his opponent throws a punch while he was distracted.
The vigilante shifts his attention to the thief when you suddenly make an escape. Night wing attempts to call out to you but it appears you didn't notice.
He sighs as he handcuffs the thief. This guy was such a hassle that Nightwing almost forgot why he was in such a hurry to wrap up the whole situation
The vigilante turns to where you were but only finds a bloodied knife and the bags you left behind. He carefully picks up the bags and knife while he considers where you have gone.
Spotting a trail of blood, Nightwing quickly follows it, contacting the rest of the family as well
The family gathers at the same spot near your apartment and finds you sleeping in your bed. Wanting to help you, Nightwing comes up with an idea
You lay on your bed, waiting for sleep to consume you when a knock comes from your door. You try to ignore it but the knocking continues. The only thing that gets you up is the realization that the knocking is too loud to be from your door. Opening your eyes, you realize that someone is at your window.
Getting up, you pick up your pepper spray as you slowly walk towards the window. You have your curtains closed so you try to peek past them to see who is there
Who you see is Nightwing and it gets you worried. Does he think you were involved with that other person? He must have seen that the thief stabbed you at least
Not wanting to make the vigilant wait, you open your window slightly. Only enough so you can hear what Nightwing has to say
Nightwing happily greets you and shows you the bag of items that you left behind when leaving the scene.
Surprised, you thank Nightwing and open the window. Making sure to not open the window more than necessary, just enough to collect the bags
Just as you reach for it, the vigilante points out your bandaged shoulder. He goes on to say the importance of properly handling injuries and offers to rebandage your arm.
It takes you a couple of moments before you agree to his help.
Like a big brother, he sits you down and redoes the bandages. Honestly, it makes you wish your actual big brothers would care for you in this way. Even though one of them is right in front of you
Once your shoulder has properly been bandaged, you thank Nightwing for his help. He offers to stay the night but you tell him that youâd be fine. Plus, doesnât he still have to take care of Bludhaven
You make sure to close and lock your window once Nightwing leaves before going back to bed. As sleep consumes you, your whole family watches from a distance. You didnât seem to recognize Dick as Nightwing so it may be possible to get you to trust them before taking you home
#yandere batfam#yandere batfamily#yandere batboys#yandere bruce wayne#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake#yandere damian wayne#platonic yandere#neglected reader#yandere dc
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How the Chantry (and Orlais) Turned Kirkwall into a Police State
One aspect of the Dragon Age series that Iâve always found odd is the way in which rather crucial political and historical context surrounding major conflicts the player must decide tends to be relegated to codices, outside materials (e.g., books), and optional dialogue with minor characters... meaning that many if not most players donât seem to end up actually seeing it. Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts (Dragon Age Inquisition) in particular has become somewhat notorious for what it left out, but itâs far from unusual.
With regard to Dragon Age II, thereâs a popular perception among fans that the troubles in Kirkwall can be attributed almost entirely to rogue behavior on the part of Knight-Commander Meredith and various evil blood mages. This is understandable given the overall narrative framing and Biowareâs aforementioned problem of making key context very easy to miss. But once we take a look at the full picture, it ought to be clear that the Chantry did not simply âfailâ in their responsibilities towards the mages or towards the citizens of Kirkwall more broadly â they actively created and maintained the very nightmare they later professed to be dismayed about.
Moreover, despite the running Mages vs. Templars theme, the mages were hardly the only one's who suffered under Meredith's rule. Indeed, Kirkwall endured a brutal 16-year-long dictatorship (9:21-9:37 Dragon) that came into being courtesy of the Chantry and the Orlesian empire and only fell due to the mage rebellion.
Here Iâll describe in detail (with sources and citations) the story of how the Chantry turned Kirkwall into a police state and one that ultimately descended into what the writers themselves termed "genocide."
The Templar Coup of 9:21 Dragon
Our story begins with the conflict between Viscount Perrin Threnhold of Kirkwall and Emperor Florian Valmont of Orlais.
With the beginning of the Dragon Age (the era), the Orlais had experienced a major loss of territory and influence. In 9:00-9:02 Dragon (the exact dates conflict), the Fereldan Rebellion led by Maric Theirin and Loghain Mac Tir overthrew Meghren, the last Orlesian King of Ferelden (personally appointed to the position by Emperor Florian himself), and reclaimed their countryâs independence after nearly a century of Orlesian occupation. These events are described in detail in The Stolen Throne. Emperor Florian, however, remained reluctant to recognize Fereldenâs sovereignty -- with peace between the two countries not being fully established until his death and the ascension of his niece Celene to the throne in 9:20 Dragon -- and may have been eager to reassert Orlesian influence in the region. Perrin Threnhold, meanwhile, ascended to the position of viscount of Kirkwall (also formerly occupied by Orlais) in 9:14 Dragon. At some point during this volatile period, Threnhold decided to raise money by charging what the Orlesians regarded as unreasonably high tolls for passage through the Waking Sea, which also controlled Orlaisâs sea access to Ferelden and its capitol, Denerim.
For reference, hereâs a map with my highlights:
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The Orlesian Chantry, founded by Kordillus Drakon I (the first emperor of Orlais), had from the beginning been dominated by Orlesian interests. According to World of Thedas vol. 1 (p. 56): âThe Orlesian capital, Val Royeaux, is home to the Chantryâs Grand Cathedral, the center of the Andrastian religionâs power. Over multiple Blights, the Orlesians have used the Chantry to expand their influence beyond the nationâs impressive borders, notably to the north into Tevinter territory and southeast through Ferelden.â The Chantry, not surprisingly, had backed the Orlesian invasion and occupation of Ferelden, most recently under Divine Beatrix III (probably) and Grand Cleric Bronach of Denerim. It should be noted that this is all part of a pattern of highly-aggressive and imperialistic behavior that has persisted for centuries from the early years up to (potentially) the events of Dragon Age Inquisition.
It also cannot be emphasized enough that the Templars are the Chantryâs army and were created by the Chantry in the first place. They do not simply hunt and guard mages; they fight the Chantryâs wars and carry out its policies. Quote: âthe Order of Templars was created as the martial arm of the Chantryâ (Codex: Templars). According to First Enchanter Halden of Starkhaven (8:80 Blessed), âWhile mages often resent the templars as symbols of the Chantry's control over magic, the people of Thedas see them as saviors and holy warriors, champions of all that is good, armed with piety enough to protect the world from the ravages of foul magic. In reality, the Chantry's militant arm looks first for skilled warriors with unshakable faith in the Maker, with a flawless moral center as a secondary concern. Templars must carry out their duty with an emotional distance, and the Order of Templars prefers soldiers with religious fervor and absolute loyalty over paragons of virtue who might question orders when it comes time to make difficult choices. It is this sense of ruthless piety that most frightens mages when they draw the templars' attention: When the templars are sent to eliminate a possible blood mage, there is no reasoning with them, and if the templars are prepared, the mage's magic is all but useless. Driven by their faith, the templars are one of the most feared and respected forces in Thedasâ (Codex: Templars). Likewise, a Chantry official confirms that the Templars are both âthe watchers of the mages and the martial arm of the Chantryâ (Codex: Seekers of Truth). In Dragon Age Origins, the (unwillingly) Templar-trained Alistair elaborates, âEssentially theyâre trained to fight. The Chantry would tell you that the templars exist simply to defend, but donât let them fool you. Theyâre an army... The Chantry keeps a close reign on its templars. We are given lyrium to help develop our magical talents, you see⊠which means we become addicted. And since the Chantry controls the lyrium trade with the dwarves⊠well, Iâm sure you can put two and two together... The Chantry usually doesnât let their templars get away, either.â
In response to Threnholdâs intolerable restrictions on the Orlesian navyâs movements in its traditional sphere of influence, Divine Beatrix III, an acknowledged âfriend of the emperorâ (and predecessor to Divine Justinia V of DAI), ordered the Kirkwall Templars under Knight-Commander Guylian to force open the Waking Sea. Viscount Threnhold retaliated for this obviously-illegal military interference by ordering the Templars expelled from Kirkwall and later executing the knight-commander. Then-Knight-Captain Meredith Stannard led the remaining Templars to storm the Keep and arrest Threnhold before appointing a weak viscount unwilling or unable to resist her control.
From Kirkwall: City of Chains by Brother Ferdinand Genitivi (Codex: History of Kirkwall: Chapter 4):
Taxes were crippling and Perrin Threnhold used the ancient chains extending from âthe Twinsâ standing at Kirkwall's harborâunused since the New Exalted Marchesâto block sea traffic and charge exorbitant fees from Orlesian ships. The Empire threatened invasion following the closure of the Waking Sea passage, and for the first time, the Chantry used the templars to pressure the viscount. Until that point, the templars had done nothing to counter the Threnholds even though, as the largest armed force in Kirkwall, they could have. Knight-Commander Guylian's only written comment was in a letter to Divine Beatrix III: âIt is not our place to interfere in political affairs. We are here to safeguard the city against magic, not against itself.â The divine, as a friend to the emperor, clearly had other ideas.
In response, Viscount Perrin hired a mercenary army, forcing a showdown with the templars. They stormed the Gallows and hung Knight-Commander Guylian, igniting a series of battles that ended with Perrin's arrest and the last of his family's rule. The templars were hailed as heroes, and even though they wished to remain out of Kirkwall's affairs, it was now forced upon them. Knight-Commander Meredith appointed Lord Marlowe Dumar as the new viscount in 9:21 Dragon and she has remained influential in the city's rule ever since.
Given that this was written by a Chantry scholar, the self-justificatory rhetoric surrounding the viscount and the Chantry-instigated coup ought not be surprising. It appears, however, that in Kirkwall itself popular perceptions of Viscount Perrin Threnhold are in fact fairly polarized.
Whereas Brother Genitivi calls Perrinâs father Chivalry Threnhold âa vicious thug who took power through a campaign of intimidationâ and Perrin Threnhold âeven worse,â an unnamed servant writing 7 years after the coup paints a rather different picture (Codex: Viscount Marlowe Dumar):
What happened to Viscount Perrin Threnhold was a travesty. I served in the Keep, and my blood boils when I hear people call him a tyrant. He was a good man who tried his best to free Kirkwall from the control of those who use power for their own purposes. It's always been that way here, hasn't it? Long ago it was the Imperium. Then it was the Qunari, then the Orlesians, now the templars... when have we ever ruled ourselves? He tried to kick those templar bastards out and give us real freedom, and what did it get him?
Whether Threnhold was an evil tyrant or a nationalist hero (or both or something else entirely) is beside the point, however. He was not overthrown for mistreating the citizens of Kirkwall; he was overthrown for opposing Orlais and the Templars (acting as an arm of Orlesian imperialism and in defiance of their official duties). Seneschal Bran, himself no fan of either Threnhold or the Templars (and the only character to ever discuss the coup out loud), points this out in an easy-to-miss optional conversation in Act 3.
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Hawke: What happens if they [the Templars] donât like the [nobilityâs] choice [of viscount]?
Seneschal Bran: Do you know how Viscount Dumarâs predecessor, Perrin Threnhold, left office? He was a tyrant, certainly, but his rule was not ended until he actively sought to expel the templars. âThe good of allâ is inexorably tied to what is good for the templars.
Itâs unclear whether Knight-Captain Meredith was acting on her own initiative in toppling Threnhold or whether she received prior encouragement from the Chantry, but either way, what is certain is that the Chantry moved quickly to legitimize her actions and bolster the new order. Moreover, the intent to seize power for the Chantry and its military forces rather than âliberateâ Kirkwall from the depredations of a tyrannical viscount can be seen in the way they illegally imposed their own viscount (one kept submissive through threats of violence) rather than allowing the people to choose or at the very least following accepted selection procedures (i.e., allowing the nobility to vote on the next viscount). Indeed, this refusal to let the nobility select the viscount as per tradition is the basis of Orsino's protest at the beginning of Act 3.
In any event, Grand Cleric Elthina, as the highest-ranking representative of the Chantry in Kirkwall (appointed to her position by Divine Beatrix III herself around 20 years before Act 1) and thus exercising authority over its Templars, presided over the show trial at the end of which Threnhold was imprisoned and later murdered in his cell. Then she rewarded Meredith with a promotion.
According to the codex for Knight-Commander Meredith:
She is credited with removing the previous viscount, Perrin Threnhold, from his position after he attempted to have the templars expelled from the city in 9:21 Dragon. The acting knight-commander was arrested and executed, and Meredith led a group of templars into the heart of the Keep to capture Threnhold. He was tried and imprisoned three days later by Grand Cleric Elthina and died from poisoning two years later. Meredith was subsequently elevated to her current position.
While merely implied here, Elthina is explicitly confirmed to have given Meredith the position of knight-commander in the first place in World of Thedas vol. 2 (p. 193):
Following Threnholdâs arrest, Grand Cleric Elthina appointed Meredith as the new knight-commander. At Knight-Commander Meredithâs suggestion, a new viscount was chosen: a man named Marlowe Dumar.
Then in blatant violation of Kirkwallâs own laws and traditions -- again, dictating that the viscount be chosen by the nobility -- the Chantry had allowed newly-installed Knight-Commander Meredith to select the new viscount. If approached in the Templar-occupied Viscountâs Keep and spoken to in Act 3, Seneschal Bran will explain:
Bran: When a line is judged unfit, or ends, we appoint from Kirkwallâs elite. Or we would, if the situation was normal. But it is not.
Hawke: Who nominates a new viscount?
Bran: A consensus of the nobility. Normally. And a willing nominee.
It seems to be the general consensus that Marlowe Dumar was chosen specifically because he was weak and willing to play the role of Templar/Chantry puppet (a subheading in Dumarâs WoT v2 entry even explicitly calls him âThe Puppetâ). Meredith, after all, is not only responsible for his appointment but has been threatening him into compliance from the very beginning.
Again, Brother Genitivi writes quite bluntly:
Knight-Commander Meredith appointed Lord Marlowe Dumar as the new viscount in 9:21 Dragon and she has remained influential in the city's rule ever since.
And quoting once more from the unnamed servant:
Now the Chantry has chosen Lord Marlowe Dumar as his replacement. After weeks and weeks of arguing, after telling the nobility that they would be choosing their viscount, after everyone saying it was time to use a new titleâwhy not "king"? Why keep using the name imposed by the Orlesians? And after all that, the Chantry chose him. I suppose I can see whyâeveryone thinks he has the spine of a jellyfish, and it does seem that way.
Truly, he has the templars on one side, the nobility on the other, and everyone expects him to solve all their problemsâyet he has no power to actually accomplish it. He keeps the peace as best he can, and I think he does a good job even if no one else does.
Likewise, to quote from Marlowe Dumarâs entry in World of Thedas vol. 2 (p. 184-185):
The new knight-commander, Meredith, appointed Marlowe to the seat, much to his surprise. Just before he was crowned, he met in private with the knight-commander at the Gallows. Marlowe was escorted, surrounded by grim templars, to Meredithâs well-appointed office, and there, she explained her reasons for the choice. Kirkwall was filled with entitled degenerates... âWith my help, you will turn this city around,â she said. âWe will be allies.â Meredithâs message was clear: Remember who holds power in Kirkwall. Remember what happened to Threnhold when he overreached. To drive her point home, she presented Marlowe with a small carven ivory box at his coronation. The box contained the Threnhold signet ring, misshapen, and crusted with blood. On the inside of the lid were written the words âHis fate need not be yours.â Marlowe ruled Kirkwall without incident for almost a decade, in no small part thanks to Meredithâs backing. During his reign, the templars grew even more powerful, and the knight-commanderâs influence was evident in almost every one of Marloweâs decisions.
And from Meredithâs entry in WoT vol. 2 (p. 193):
Meredith presented Dumar with a carved ivory box at his crowning. All present witnessed the viscount going white as a sheet as he opened it... It is not known what the box contained, but the reaction from Dumar made its importance to him obvious. What is certain is that Dumar never openly or strongly defied the templars. Over the course of his reign, Meredithâs grip on Kirkwall grew ever tighter, and Dumarâs failure to act absolutely contributed to the events that led to the mage rebellion.
According to Lord Bellamy, âa longtime political ally of Dumarâsâ (p. 193):
âDumar had a good heart. A good heart and a weak will. On his own he might have made a good leader, given time. But he wasnât on his own. The knight-commander was always there, looking over his shoulder. She let him know she was watching, that he wore the crown at her sufferance. Meredith appointed him. This was a nobleman of only moderate wealth, with little influence. She knew she could control him and there was little he or anyone else could do about it.â
Ultimately, the coup not only secured Chantry control over Kirkwall but furthered their (and the Orlesian Empireâs) geopolitical interests in the Free Marches as a whole. After all, the âFree Marches is [sic] best known as the breadbasket of Thedas. Its farms along the banks of the great Minanter river are the source of much of the continentâs foodâ (World of Thedas vol. 1, p. 65), and as with many a real-world âbreadbasket,â its natural abundance and misfortune of lying between multiple empires had made it the target of one invasion and occupation after another. After the slave revolt of 25 Ancient toppled the Tevinter Imperiumâs hold over the region (see Codex: History of Kirkwall: Chapter 2), the city-state of Kirkwall fell to Qunari invasion in 7:56 Storm, then invasion and occupation by the Orlesian Empire in 7:60 Storm, and finally gained its independence about 45 years later in 8:05 Blessed (see Codex: History of Kirkwall: Chapter 3). Prior to the Chantry-instigated coup, Kirkwall had enjoyed independence under a locally-chosen viscount for around 115 years, with Viscount Perrin Threnhold himself ruling for 7 years.
Other city-states of the Free Marches have likewise fallen under the Chantryâs sphere of influence (if not outright control):
Starkhaven is ruled by the Vael family. According to the codex for The Vaels, âThey remain devout, dedicating at least one son or daughter per generation to become a cleric in the chantry.â The sole potential heir to the throne of Starkhaven is of course our DLC companion Sebastian Vael, âThe Exiled Prince.â To quote from his first codex: âSebastian Vael is the only surviving son of the ruling family of Starkhaven, which was murdered in a violent coup d'etat. Sebastian cannot forget the irony that he still lives only because his family was so ashamed of his drinking and womanizing that they committed him to the Kirkwall Chantry against his will⊠Since then, his belief in the Maker and His plan for Thedas have been unshakable. Embracing his new role, Sebastian took vows of poverty and chastity to become a sworn brother of the Chantry... until word of his family's deaths forced him to take up worldly concerns once again.â Elthina appears to have been playing mind games with Sebastian from the very beginning -- first she agrees to have him confined in her Chantry, then poses as a secret benefactor helping him escape from her clutches, with the revelation of her identity as said pretend benefactor leading him to embrace her authority and the life of a Chantry brother with genuine enthusiasm (see the Sebastian short story or his WoT v2 entry for details). After his familyâs murder, Elthina urges him to remain with her rather than reclaim the throne. Yet when he gives up on seeking the throne and actually does attempt to return to the Chantry during âa crisis of faith,â he is âturned away by Grand Cleric Elthina, who believed he had not yet committed fully to either courseâ (see Codex: Sebastian - The Last Three Years), leaving him confused and even more under her thrall than ever.
Ostwick is dominated by the devout, staunchly pro-Chantry Trevelyan family. According to the codex for Trevelyan, the Free Marcher: âIt is an old and distinguished family, in good standing among its peers, and with strong ties to the Chantry. Its youngest sons and daughtersâthose third- or fourth-born children with little chance of becoming heirsâoften join the Chantry to become templars or clerics.â
Tantervale is certainly... special. According to WoT vol. 1 (p. 71): âChantry rule is all but absolute in Tantervale, earning the city its dour reputation. The city guard is obsessed with enforcement. A street urchin would get a year in the dungeon for something that would get him a pat on the back in Orlaisâ (p. 71).
But let us return to Kirkwall, shall we?
"The Puppetâ: The Reign of Viscount Marlowe Dumar (9:21-9:34 Dragon)
Viscount Marlow Dumarâs status as an impotent tool of the Chantry and its Templars appears to be common knowledge in Kirkwall. Various characters, from city guards to lowlifes like Gamlen, casually refer to Meredith as if she is head of state and defer to her authority.
Immediately upon approaching the gates of the city in the first quest of the game, The Destruction of Lothering (Act 1), the following exchange occurs:
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Guardsman Wright: So Knight-Commander Meredith wants us to sort you all out. Most of you are getting right back on your ships, though.
Hawke: That's a templar title. Why would a city guardsman answer to the templars?
Wright: We don't answer to her... but she's the power in Kirkwall. Don't know what would happen if the viscount went against something she wanted... But he's sure never taken that chance.
Likewise, if asked about âthe word on the street,â Corff the bartender remarks as early as Act 1, âPeople say Meredith's the real power in Kirkwall, not the Viscount. Even Dumar answers to her.â
Ordinary citizens appear terrified of Meredith, and with good reason. During the quest Enemies Among Us (Act 1, set in 9:31 Dragon), we get the following exchange with the sister of a Templar recruit:
Macha: I pleaded with him not to join the Order, but he wouldn't listen. You hear dark rumors about the templars and Knight-Commander Meredith. And now my brother is gone.
Hawke: (âAre templars so bad here?â) In Lothering, some templars died protecting villagers. I never heard any dark rumors.
Macha: And those are the stories my Keran adored. But it is not like that here, serah. There is a growing darkness in the order. They prowl the streets in packs. Hunting. And now, they say their duties put them above us, that they have the right to... take people from their homes. It is frightening.
Hawke: (âTell me about Meredithâ) What do people say about Knight-Commander Meredith?
Macha: Oh, she has many admirers. They laud the service she does in keeping the mages in check. But others say she is terribly fierce and utterly without pity. That she sees demons everywhere. It is dangerous even to whisper such things. People harboring escaped mages just disappear. Templars interrogate and threaten passers-by. My friend has a cousin whoâs a mage, and she says he was made Tranquil against his will. You hear more with each passing day.
Of course, Knight-Commander Meredithâs reign over the Gallows was notoriously brutal long before she came into contact with Red Lyrium. Writing 3 years after the coup (but 7 years before Act 1), in 9:24 Dragon, Brother Genitivi remarks that "Kirkwall has been a tinderbox since becoming the center of templar power in eastern Thedas." As early as Act 1, mages in the Gallows can be heard crying out, âThis place is a prison,â and âKnight-Commander Meredith would kill us all if she could.â When asked if mages are imprisoned, the guardsman replies, âUsed to be, back in the Imperial days. They kept slaves here until the rebellion. Now the templars run it and use it to lock up their mages. Guess not much has changedâ (The Destruction of Lothering, Act 1). Karl Theklaâs final letter before being turned Tranquil (with such illegal uses of the Rite having been repeatedly reported to Meredith) âsaid the knight-commander was turning the Circle into a prison. Mages are locked in their cells, refused appearances at court, made Tranquil for the slightest crimesâ (Tranquility, Act 1). If Hawke questions the truth of these accusations, Anders responds, âAsk any mage in Kirkwall. Over a dozen were made Tranquil just this year. The more people you ask, the worse the rumors become.â (Elthina also appears to be aware at least to some extent of the subsequent ambush, in which a Tranquil Karl was used as bait to ensnare his former lover).
According to the short story Paper & Steel (focusing on Samson): âUnder Meredith, freedom was a cruel dream for Kirkwallâs Circle mages. They were often locked in their cells, watched night and day by templars who were told any step out of line was suspicious. All those young magelings, told that magic was a curse, that they were dangerous, and that they had to be shut indoors all their lives looking out through those windows. Some went mad. Others, mad or not, tried jumping.â And from First Enchanter Orsinoâs entry in World of Thedas, vol. 2 (p. 195): âEvery time a mage died by their own hand, Orsino would hear Maudâs final words to him: 'This is no life.â The templars didnât seem to care about the suicides. Most had the courtesy to say nothing at all, but some would snigger when they thought no one was listening. 'One less to worry about.â âThe only good mage is a dead mage.â Orsinoâs anger at the templars grew...â (Note that this began long before Orsino became first enchanter in 9:28, three years before the start of the game). It's also worth noting Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford quite explicitly attained his position as second-in-command of the Kirkwall Templars position because of his anti-mage extremism, later including violence against those perceived as mage sympathizers and their families.
To name more specific abuses, the Gallows features whipping posts (with dialogue confirming the reliance on whipping) and multiple other medieval torture devices, including a rack, a pillory, and iron maidens. We also see numerous references to casual beatings, sexual assaults, forced Tranquility and facial branding, long-term confinement in dark cells, and permanent family separation (e.g., Emile du Launcet). Escape attempts are typically punished with summary execution, according to multiple sources (e.g., Ser Thrask, Ser Karras, Grace). According to Ser Thrask, the most sympathetic Templar (besides Carver), kindness to mages would be a "badge of shame" among among his colleagues. For more, I recommend checking out the âDA2 mage rights reference postâ by @bubonickittenâ. Again, note that these are cruelties largely occurring prior to or during Act 1, long before Meredith started going insane due to Red Lyrium.
If Feynriel is forced into the Circle at the end of Wayward Son (Act 1), the ex-Templar Samson says, âI hear they got your boy Feynriel locked up in the Circle. Bad business, that. It ain't all templars that're bad. It's hard luck being born a robe, but most places, they make it work. That bitch Meredith runs the Order in this town like her private army. You don't toe the line, you end up on the next corner here in Darktown. I don't think you got to hate mages to love the Order. But Meredith don't agree.â Samson, it should be remembered, had been expelled from the Templar Order for passing love notes from the mage Maddox to his lover. For the crime of âcorrupting the moral integrity of a templar,â Meredith ordered Maddox turned Tranquil. According to Cullen in Before the Dawn (DAI), âKnight-Commander Meredith wielded the brand for far lesser offences, believe me."
Ordinary citizens appear to be well aware of at least some of Meredithâs reign of terror in the Gallows, given that various NPCs (including some who do not personally know any inmates) will refer to it. During Tranquility (Act 1), for example, a mob of Ferelden refugees threatens the party over fears that the latter intend to turn in âThe Healer of Darktownâ to the Templars. One exclaims, "We know what happens to mages in this town. And it ainât gonna happen to him." Moreover, the knowledge is sufficiently widespread as to have reached faraway countries. A note dated 9:35 (set between Acts 2-3) from a mage of the Hossberg Circle in the Anderfels expresses utter horror: âI have heard that in the Kirkwall Gallows, mages are locked in their cells with barely room to stretch, let alone exercise. I can promise you that any mage of the Anderfels would be stark raving mad after a week of such treatment... No wonder Kirkwall has such trouble with blood magesâ (WoT v2, p. 173).
And through all of this, Meredith has the support of the Chantry and more specifically Grand Cleric Elthina.
Not only did Elthina appoint Meredith to her position in the first place (WoT v2, p. 193), but if asked her opinion on Meredith in Act 1, Elthina snaps, âGossip is a sin, child. Knight-Commander Meredith has an admirable devotion to her duties. It is not my role to form opinions on her character.â An odd statement to make about a subordinate, since Meredith reports to her directly (as knight-commanders legally do to the nearest grand cleric). The codex for Knight-Commander Meredith confirms at as of the end of Act 2, âshe enjoys the grand cleric's full support and has free rein in Kirkwall as the commander of its most powerful military force.â According to Elthinaâs codex, many claim that Elthina âallows Knight-Commander Meredith more leeway with each passing year.â According to World of Thedas vol. 2, which tries to put a more positive spin on Elthinaâs role, her detractors âsay her stubborn refusal to exercise her Chantry-given authority allowed the conflict between the templars and mages to escalate, finally resulting in the disastrous mage rebellion of 9:37 Dragon... Since Elthina was loath to exploit her authority as grand cleric, she refused to order either the mages or templars to stand down when tensions flared. Many believe that she could have forced one side to retreat by showing her support for their position, but Elthina refused to take sidesâ (p. 196-197). This is at best an abdication of responsibility to dependents for someone intent on remaining in power.
Moreover, Elthinaâs dominance over Kirkwall appears to depend in large part on at least appearing to manage Meredith and her troops. According to her codex, âPeople frequently turn to her to mediate disputesâparticularly those involving the powerful Templar Order, over whom she holds authority as the Chantry's ranking representative.â So Meredith as military leader rules both the Circle and the city-state through fear and violence, while Elthina maintains her power by playing Good Cop to Meredith's Bad Cop. Both then maintain a pretense of legality and legitimacy by fronting Viscount Dumar as the public face of the regime.
And this dual-power system works quite well for them -- at least until Meredith starts losing her mind under the influence of the Red Lyrium idol.
[A link will later be provided for Part 2 on Escalation and Direct Rule. If I ever do get to it đđđ]
#dragon age 2#dragon age#dragon age lore#dragon age meta#da meta#chantry critical#anti chantry#anti orlais#templar critical#anti templar#da2#knight commander meredith#meredith stannard#kirkwall#kirkwall gallows#grand cleric elthina#elthina critical#Cullen critical#viscount marlowe dumar#orlais#free marches#orlais critical
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The Prophecy (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) Part III
pairing: lando norris x singer!reader (y/n)
summary: what happens after the break-up that noone saw coming? as Y/N L/N gears up to release her next album, each song reveals a little bit of the past, present and future of her relationship with Lando Norris. Inspired by a curated playlist built around "The Prophecy".
note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons.
genre: social media au, angst, exes to lovers, happy ending
part i part ii
â„*:.ïœĄ ïœĄ.:*ïŸâĄïœ„*:.ïœĄ ïœĄ.:*ïŸâ„
Halloween, 2026
1st week of November, 2026
[Transcript of Y/N on the Graham Norton Show]
âWow, Y/N L/N everybody, with âJadedâ from her new album âthe Prophecyâ thatâs out next week - thank you, that was amazing.â
âThanks so much, I was so nervous!â
âNervous?â A giggle ripples through the audience at Grahamâs incredulous expression. âDo you really still get nervous?â
âI do, yeah for special performances like this one, or Saturday Night Live in the States â itâs scary to sing on live TV!â
âNow, would you say thatâs the scariest thing youâve ever done?â Y/N doesnât answer, just looks on warily. âBecause itâs just been Halloween, and I heard that last yearâs was particularly scary for you.â
âYes, but only because I just wasnât made for Halloween â I hate scary stuff, but have a very insistent slasher loving friend,â Y/N confesses, then moans in embarrassment, hiding behind her hands. âI canât believe youâre bringing this up Graham, Iâm gonna be so uncool after this.â
âItâs okay,â Paul Mescal chimes in from further up the red sofa, âI canât watch horror or anything like that either.â
With a small, grateful smile, Y/N starts recounting a story. âRight?! But I have this friend who is obsessed, and sheâs wanted me to go to a haunted house with her for ages. I fumbled my excuse last year, then got dragged into it. It was awful. I went in holding Sabrinaâs hand, but then that traitor let go of me at the very first jumpscare, which was some type of room with this chainsaw guy and then a bunch of creepy people making creepy noises. I tried to grab her hand again and just made a run for it in a blind panic, only to realise halfway down the hall that the creepy noises arenât stopping and Iâm screaming and running even harder. Until thereâs a tug on my hand and I turn around, only to realise that Iâve been running through this maze with a death grip on this poor actorâs hand. And he just goes âif I show you the exit, will you take a selfie with me?â, and thatâs the one and only time Iâve ever made use of the celebrity card.â
Everyone laughs, which Graham seamlessly uses to pivot to the Red Chair stories. âLetâs see what other entertaining stories we have here today. Tell us, whatâs your name and where are you from?â
âHi, my nameâs Vivian and Iâm from Glastonbury.â
âOh, thatâs nice! The hallowed festival grounds â is your story related to that at all?â
âIt does, actually!â
Graham looks delighted by that, and claps his hands, âoh yes â I canât wait to hear this. Off you go Vivianâ
âSo I work as a police officer in Somerset, but I usually take time off for Glastonbury each year, whereas some of my colleagues work security for everyone attending. Y/N was actually performing that year, so I made sure to take time off to watch her set.â It makes Y/N smile, but when she leans in to get a closer look her eyes go wide all of a sudden.
Graham looks over at Y/N questioningly, but motions for Vivian to continue â his hand resting on the lever.
âI remember showing up to work afterwards, only to find out that my colleagues had been the ones to escort Y/N to and from the festival grounds. I was really bummed about it, jealous they got to meet her. But then earlier this year, around September or so I was on patrol in the area â it was a fairly quiet day on country roads. Until we get closer to this small borough, and thereâs someone quite clearly about to drive through a roundabout counterclockwise.â
Y/N sinks into the sofa, trying to disappear. âWe signal for the driver to pull over, and when I go up to their vehicle to write them a ticket, I got my moment after all - it turned out to be Y/N.â
âIn my defense â I hadnât driven in the UK for three years, Iâm sorry! I paid the ticket!â Y/N says weakly.
The audience laughs, and Y/N cheeks go red from humiliation, but Vivian is quick to corroborate. âShe did, and even signed my phone for me.â
âAlright Vivian, thatâs a good story, you can walk, go on then. Reminder everyone tonight in London â be safe on the roads, Y/N is out there!â
2d week of November, 2026
2d week of November - release weekend, 2026
[Daily Mail excerpt] Lando No-Comment-rris refuses to answer questions about ex-girlfriend Y/N L/N as he parties it up in London
As the Formula One driver for McLaren turns yet another year older, the question if he's also gotten any wiser. Norris was photographed entering exclusive club Annabel's, before later making his way to a private afterparty with close friend Martin Garrix.
The driver has been having an eventful F1 season, with a very tight race for the championship that's seemingly going to get decided in the final race, as Norris battles it out to defend his current #1 ranking. The athlete has clearly reaped the benefits of his new and improved lifestyle, which seems to include a strict exercise and mealplanning regimen and very little distractions. However, Norris clearly made an exception for his birthday, as onlookers said he was "taking shots" and "enjoying himself" in the VIP section. Pictured below is Norris, together with friends Martin Garrix and fellow driver Max Verstappen.
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Perhaps the night was much needed, as Norris has had to endure a very private break-up becoming very public after the release of Y/N L/N's latest album on his actual birthday. In fact, in a rare twist of fate, both the F1 driver and his ex were spotted in the UK capital over the weekend to mark the occasion. While Norris enjoyed Mayfair, L/N was spotted elsewhere in the city as she performed an acoustic set of "The Prophecy".
The two previously resided in Monaco, but since their break-up have not been seen much in public. Norris is believed to have moved his main residence back to the UK, while L/N is rumoured to have returned to her original residence as well.
Up until now, Norris and L/N have remained tightlipped about their relationship and ensuing breakup. When asked about his feelings on the album's release date, Norris refused to comment. Similarly, he did not want to answer questions as to whether the two had been in touch. In a recent interview on the popular podcast Call Her Daddy, L/N did seem to imply there were no hard feelings between the two. The two do still share mutual friends, as is evident by Martin Garrix congratulating Y/N L/N on her new album in his IG stories earlier this weekend.
We have reached out to their reps for comment.
3d week of November, 2026
â„*:.ïœĄ ïœĄ.:*ïŸâĄïœ„*:.ïœĄ ïœĄ.:*ïŸâ„
part IV can be read here
â„ likes, comments, reblogs are always very much appreciated â„
taglist (open) : @charlesgirl16
#f1 x reader#lando norris smau#lando norris x reader#f1 smau#smau fic#lando norris fic#lando noris imagine#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x you#lando norris x yn#the prophecy smau
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i was reading about police interrogation tactics and on the topic of confessions the book discussed several studies about false memory i haven't looked into yet, but in one they apparently managed to implant artificial memories in 70% of test subjects with relative ease. the subjects weren't lying (the experiment was set up so that they'd have to expect to be immediately caught), they became incapable of not lying. by slipping the persuasive presentation of a false memory into a reminiscence about real memories across 3 interrogation days the subject's brain eventually connected all stories and made them indistinguishable for most participants. they appeared to believe the introduced memory as much as their real ones.
the brain's separation of plausible imagination from genuine memory is much much weaker than often believed, even if the imagination is introduced from outside. it's constantly observed that people unknowingly, involuntarily fill in the gaps of true memories with imaginary information because our brain uses any source available to present full pictures if we want to remember something. similarly to the experiment above they managed to implant memories of fake events at a real disneyland visit, even including a meeting with charles III, in a bunch of nz schoolkids. and these were voluntary, friendly interactions disguised as simple studies about childhood experiences. imagine the effect when the pressure and hostility of police custody is added. if they get the necessary free reign they could make you confess to the jfk shooting if you were born in '62 and attending the event in a stroller
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Phantasmagoria (Part III)
Tell Me to Stop (Sanemiâs Version)
Sanemi x F!Reader âą Modern AU âą NSFW
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A/N: read the fucking warnings before you report.
Massive TW: grief âą loss of a parent âą canon character death âą drug and alcohol abuse âą panic âą references to previous attempted S/A âą violence between characters âą more descriptions of Douma getting his ass kicked (still deserved) âą situation requiring a hospital
CW: 25k words. MDNI. explicit sexual content ahead âą multiple creampies âą oral (f! and m!receiving) âą face sitting âą swearing âą angst with a good ending âą non-sexual intimacy
Oh boy. Itâs 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!
Sanemiâs Playlist
PART ONE âą PART TWO
(Sanemiâs POV)
The Party on 52nd Street
Sanemi couldnât bring himself to say that he regretted how heâd 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 Doumaâs 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 wasnât being thrown into the back of the police cruiser waiting out behind Doumaâs 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, whoâd sent the incriminating photos of his assault on Y/N to the groupchat that included all three of Tengenâs 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.
âI will sue your ass,â 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. âThe whore fucking wanted it rough.â
Sanemi lunged for the cowering bastard where he lay, ready to stomp the fuckerâs face in once and for all, but Tengen roughly threw him back against the side of his cruiser before he could.
âHeâs trying to rile you up. Donât fall for his shit,â Tengenâs magenta eyes were full of warning as he held Sanemi back. âHe was stupid enough to send proof of the assault; ainât no way in hell anyone buys that it was consensual.â
But Sanemi could only see red, the image of Y/Nâs tear-streaked and terrified face burned permanently into his brain, worse than any scar that he bore on his skin.
âI donât give a fuck, itâs working,â Sanemi snarled, struggling against Tengenâs iron-clad grip on him. âI want him fucking dead.â
âY/N needs you not to be in prison. Donât you two have something goinâ on?â Tengen shot back hotly. The young copâs words stilled Sanemiâs struggle against the police cruiser, his fury deflating slightly.
As Kyojuroâs 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 Sanemiâs stony face as heâd 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.
Heâd found Douma, standing back near the speakers that crackled with some out-of-date, heavy bass music, laughing like he hadnât a care in the world. Those monstrous eyes had met Sanemiâs 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.
Doumaâs 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.
Kyojuroâs 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 bastardâs feet every few steps. But that meant that Sanemi had no idea how Y/N was even doing â or whether sheâd sustained more serious injuries than what Douma had shown off.
He didnât 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 â 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 Doumaâs 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 theyâd found on the famous party-thrower meant theyâd caught the larger fish anyways.
If it werenât 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 didnât realize that Tengen was speaking to him.
âLook, Iâm not sayinâ I donât get your reasoning. I do,â Tengen said lowly, pausing near his cruiser to face Sanemi, though his eyes scanned the parking lot to ensure unwanted ears werenât listening in. âFrankly, if I didnât have my job to worry about, I woulda let you keep going. He deserved it.â
âBut I donât wanna see you falling back into old habits.â The young cop sighed, clapping Sanemi on the back. âYouâve been doing so well.â
Sanemi grimaced. âIâm not,â he bit out darkly. âThis wasnât about me. It was about her.â
Tengen eyed him incredulously but sighed. âItâd do you good to remember that. You canât work things out with her if Iâm haulinâ your ass to prison.â
Sanemi didnât have the heart to tell him heâd long since fucked up any chances of working things out with Y/N.
----------
âThis is the third time youâve been brought in this month,â the young cop chastised him, crossing an ankle over his knee as he folded his massive arms across his broad chest. âAnd weâre only two weeks into December.â
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 â yet again, from the Ubayashiki police station, but Kyojuro had yet to show.
âListen â Shinazugawa, is it?â 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. âYouâre a student at Ubaya-U, right?â
Sanemi only nodded, ducking his head down to avoid holding the officerâs gaze for too long, lest he see how dead the nineteen-year-old truly felt.
âMy nameâs Uzui â Tengen Uzui -- I graudated last year,â the man called Uzui said, somewhat proudly. âSo I know youâre a smart kid, but you canât keep getting hauled in like this. Youâve got too much goinâ for ya.â
Sanemi finally made a sound. âI got nothinâ going for me,â he scoffed, finally lifting his eyes to meet Uzuiâs stern face. âSpare me the âyouâre better than this,â crap.â
Uzui only rolled his eyes. âLook, kid, whatever happened to you before you got here, youâve gotta deal with it â but not like this.â Sanemi opened his mouth to snap back, but the young cop paid him no mind, only continuing his lecture. âIâm not gonna ask, because frankly, I donât care that much. But I know a good kid when I see one, and I donât think you want to live this way.â
Uzui sighed. âSurely youâve got someone in your life you wanna do right by? A parent, or a girl, maybe?â
Sanemiâs 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 heâd felt slowly swallowing him whole over the last three months.
He felt guilty; heâd 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. Sanemiâs only friend, really, though that was entirely his own fault.
But Sanemiâs 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 Sanemiâs wrists, the latterâs shoulders relaxing as his arms were released from behind his back.
âIâm letting you off with a warning, but with a conditionâ 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 Sanemiâs hand. âI want you checking in with me every couple of weeks. We can do it here, or wherever you want â but it ainât optional.â Uzui smiled wryly at the baffled look on Sanemiâs face. âThink of it as an unofficial probation. Until you settle down a bit.â
Uzui parted with a shake of Kyojuroâs 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.
âI canât keep doing this for you, Sanemi,â Kyojuroâs voice said quietly from beside him, and Sanemiâs head snapped over to his friend. âYouâre destroying yourself. I canât just sit by and watch it.â
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 wasnât like sheâd been around afterâŠafter he died.
But if Sanemi lost Kyojuro for good, heâd 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 Sanemiâs mind. If he concentrated hard enough, he thought he could just recall the sound of her laugh, though it had been months since heâd 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 didnât 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 didnât truly mean to be so cruel to her, even in his thoughts; he knew she didnât deserve it. Sanemi knew it was his fault things had gotten as bad as they were between them â knew it was because of his piss-poor reaction to her admittedly badly-timed love confession that had driven her away.
After Genyaâs death, Sanemi hadnât much of a heart left that he could claim, but heâd known that whatever of it remained surely belonged to her, just as he always had. So, heâd tried to reach out after his brotherâs funeral, during one of those rare moments of clarity when he wasnât just existing on autopilot, detached from the world around him, but sheâd 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 couldnât 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.
Heâd never imagined himself worthy of Y/N â his best friend, so beautiful and intelligent and kind-hearted, even though heâd been so stupidly in love with her since they were small children. Heâd always been too rough, too scarred, tooâŠmuch. But heâd hoped, no matter how foolishly so, that perhaps one day, heâd 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 heâd boarded, he was reminded that one couldnât 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, heâd finally hooked up with a girl in his mathematics seminar, and then began sleeping with another a month later. For months, heâd alternated between the two, thankful that neither of them had been interested in pursuing what he could not give them. And heâd enjoyed himself, because yeah, sex felt fucking good, but at the end of each affair, he hadnât been able to shake the way his stomach clenched with the deep-seated disgust and oily squeeze of guilt.
Guilt, because heâd felt like heâd betrayed her, which was ridiculous considering she wasnât his even if heâd 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 roommateâs kind greeting.
Though, Sanemi reasoned, sheâd 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 hadnât 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 didnât know if it was fair to blame Shinobu for Doumaâs actions, but it was clear Makio did. Given the general iciness of the group toward the young woman whoâd garnered a reputation for dealing Wisteria around campus, it seemed as though the others did, too.
Heâd decided to withhold his feelings towards Y/Nâs roommate until she, herself, indicated how she wanted to approach their friendship. It was her call to make, given that she was the one whoâd been the target of Doumaâs retribution.
Not that Sanemi would know of Y/Nâs thoughts on the matter anytime soon; they hadnât spoken since that morning in his kitchen, and sheâd 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 heâd had last year when heâd been urgently trying to find her after heâd learned her mother had died, and he feared she would disappear yet again. However, the group was set to go to Tengenâs familyâs 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 sheâd 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, hadnât spoken since the Douma incident, either. Giyuu wouldnât 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 sheâd suffered at the hands of Douma.
Heâd known that she and Kyo had talked and worked things out â but Sanemi knew his friend wouldnât divulge details without her permission, so Sanemi hadnât tried to ask, wanting to respect both of his best friendsâ boundaries.
The not knowing, however, was slowly eating him alive; heâd 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 heâd spent the better part of the last two years as one of the direct causes of Y/Nâs emotional pain.
-----
âItâs Mrs. Y/L/N â she ⊠she died. Last week. The funeral was yesterday.â
-----
Kyojuroâs words split Sanemiâs heart clean in half. There had only been one other time in Sanemiâs life when heâd 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 earthâs molten center, and he couldnât help but think he deserved to burn away inside its fire, because heâd failed yet again to be there for someone he loved.
Tears burned in his eyes as memories of Y/Nâs mother flashed vividly through his mind, a slideshow of kindness and love that heâd been so grateful to receive from the young mother in the wake of his parentsâ deaths.
For the first few weeks following the Shinazugawa boysâ discharge from the hospital, Mrs. Y/L/N had been a stand-in mother to them both, and theyâd 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.
Sheâd been the one to apply ointment on his and Genyaâs 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. Sheâd 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 hadnât 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 heâd had to a second mother.
He cried, because heâd 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 wasnât fair.
But even through his tears, Sanemi felt his resolve harden. Heâd failed to be there for his brother when he needed him most; heâd failed to be a decent friend to Kyojuro, in the months following the younger boyâs 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 wouldnât balk; heâd do anything, be anything for her, if it meant ensuring she wouldnât fall into the infinite void of despair and grief that he had.
And maybe, just maybe, heâd prove himself worthy of being her friend once more.
-----
The Uzui familyâs 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 â Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma all sharing one with Tengen, and Obanai and Mitsuri sharing another â 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, heâd 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 wouldnât be bothered by the sounds that were sure to emanate from their hostâs room until the wee hours of the morning.
Theyâd 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 groupâs newest couple as they splashed in the water.
A pang of jealousy reverberated through his chest as Sanemi watched Y/Nâs 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 â and his fears â 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.
-----
âIf you canât be honest with her, youâre going to lose her,â Sanemi said quietly as the two men stood at the bar, both nursing sodas as they watched the objects of their heartâs desire dance wildly and carefree on the Kizuki dance floor.
Obanai looked over at him, his eyes full of the kind of pain that heâd come to know far too well over the last few years. âMaybe itâs for the best,â he said quietly. âIâm not good enough for her â I donât want to hurt her.â
Sanemi felt like he was talking to a mirror. âYouâre already hurting her,â he took a sip of his ginger ale, though he hardly tasted it. âCause youâre breaking her heart by staying away.â
The tortured boyâs misery was palpable as he looked back to where Mitsuri danced, lively and carefree.
âYouâll regret it as long as you live if you donât tell her now.â In his mind, he saw only Y/Nâs face as she transformed from the smiling girl of his memory to the cold, numb woman of his present. âTrust me.â
-----
He was happy for them, truly; but he couldnât 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 hadnât fucked it all up with Y/N.
When Sanemi discovered the speckle of blood on his sheets the morning after heâd first brought Y/N home, heâd barely made it to his bathroom before throwing up.
It was too grotesque â the thought that the Wisteria had made him lose control so badly that heâd 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)
âOh please, we all fuck each other here,â Mitsuri laughed, and Sanemi rolled his eyes.
The pretty, bubbly girl was unshaken by Sanemiâs terse rejection of her offer to join her and Obanai in the back of Tengenâs Volkswagen van for a âgood time.â 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 couldnât say.
âWell, actually,â the pinkette chewed on her lip for a moment, in thought. âI guess thatâs not totally true. Y/N didnât sleep with anyone until you, Shinazugawa.â
Sanemiâs hand, which had been reaching for his plastic cup full of water, froze mid-air.
âWhat.â His voice was hard, monotone.
The pink-haired girl was oblivious as she laughed. âYeah, thatâs why Makio called you âThe Cherry Popper,â that one night - since, yâknow, you were Y/Nâs first.â
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 Mitsuriâs confession settled over him.
All this time, he thought heâd simply been too rough with Y/N, under the influence of that cursed Wisteria.
But this was worse.
Heâd assumed Y/N had already lost her virginity when they slept together. Sheâd had no hesitance in stripping him of his clothes, had begged him to go hard, and fast.
But now, as Sanemiâs breath came rough, heâd wondered if heâd misinterpreted her screams of pleasure â had they been cries of discomfort?â
Or her nails digging into his back â heâd assumed they were to spur him on, to beg him to go faster, but what if sheâd been clawing at him to slow down? To stop?
If heâd known, heâd never wouldâve done it â not like that, not when he was so blitzed out of his mind that he couldnât make sure she received the kindness and gentleness she deserved.
It shouldâve been special; she should have known how special she was to him. Instead, heâd fucked her no differently than any other hookup heâd had.
Was he no better than his father?
Heâd been so elated that sheâd responded to his kiss with enthusiasm, that admittedly, heâd lost his ability to reason. Heâd pined for her for so long â years really â 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 sheâd laid back against his sheets and told him she needed him.
Heâd hoped she wouldâve felt some of the happiness he had, when she awoke the following morning; heâd hoped that heâd be able to make her breakfast, and then the two of them could talk and he could apologize for every stupid thing heâd done over the last two years. Maybe she wouldâve forgiven him. But heâd gone and fucked that all up.
Because when he awoke, all that was left of her was her blood on his sheets.
-----
(Y/Nâs 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 sheâd miscalculated the coverage that her swimsuit afforded her, and to her horror, sheâd realized that the mark Doumaâd left on her would be on full display the moment she removed the oversized button-down sheâd used as a cover-up.
âY/N! Câmon!â 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.
âI think Iâll work on my tan for now!â 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, heâd 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.
âNo one will stare, yâknow,â Sanemi caved first, though he did not tear his eyes away from where they were fixed resolutely on the horizon beyond the lake. âThey all want you to feel comfortable, so they wonât look.â
Y/N was about to snippily ask him why he was butting in on her business, even though her irritation was because heâd read her mood so easily â 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.
Sanemiâs tan hadnât 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 sheâd looked up at her former friend, she was reminded that he knew exactly how she felt at that moment â had felt that insecurity, every day, since they were eleven and a drunk driver had slammed into his parentâs station wagon, killing everyone but him and Genya.
I donât care if you have scars! Sheâd told him, once. Iâve always thought you wereâŠwere..pretty!
She winced at the memory, but painful and intrusive though it was, she still couldnât find it within her to throw his attempt at reassurance back in his face. Y/Nâs heart might have been a lowly, misshapen, shriveled lump, but she still had one.
And besides, she wouldnât lie to herself; his words had soothed some of her anxieties, damn him.
âThanks,â 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 familyâs 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.
Sheâd hoped that returning to her own guest room â located on second floor of the Uzui home â would trick her brain into thinking she too, was tired; but hours later, sheâd realized, grimly, that sheâd not be enjoying such luck.
And so, sheâd found herself braced over the pristine kitchen sink in the Uzuisâ kitchen, unable to shake the incessant nag of sleeplessness that prickled under her skin.Sheâd thought herself alone, until a noise over by the entryway caught her attention, her eyes flashing over to see whoâd joined her in her restlessness.
Y/Nâs 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.
âSorry,â he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. âI couldnât sleep.â
Y/N shook her head, busying herself with dumping out her water glass and rinsing it out. âNeither could I, I guess.â An awkward pause ensued, only disrupted by the squeak of the faucet as Y/N wrenched it off to towel off her drinking glass.
âI tried calling you â last week,â Sanemi said carefully, leaning against the door jam, his arms folding loosely across his chest. âBut I never got an answer.â
Y/N chewed on her lip, wincing slightly. She didn't want to admit that she hadnât really returned anyoneâs calls, but that was because sheâd 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 wasnât ashamed per se â but admitting sheâd gone through withdrawal meant admitting that sheâd become reliant enough on it to have a physical reaction to cutting herself off from it, and that meant admitting she was weak.
âI wasâŠdealing with a lot,â she decided after a moment. She realized that she was oddly grateful that Doumaâs 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 sheâd spent the last seven days.
Besides, it wasnât like it was a lie; between puking her guts out, sheâd spent a lot of time replaying the events that had led her to Doumaâs bedroom, terrified and crying.
âA-and are you â you okay?â 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. âYeah, Iâm okay.â
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. âDid he -â Sanemiâs 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.
âDid he⊠hurt you,â Sanemi hesitated, his voice quieting to a whisper so soft, Y/N had to strain to hear it. âIn a way I canât see?â
Y/Nâs eyes widened, her gaze softening as the weight of his question settled. âNo, Sanemi, he didnât. I promise.â
Her hand jumped absentmindedly to the faded mark where Douma had bit her and rubbed. âHe wanted to, that much was clear, but HakujiâŠHakuji came just in time.â
Sanemiâs shoulders curled inward as he relaxed, and to Y/Nâs heartache, she saw him nearly shaking under the weight of his unshed tears. âIâm sorry â Iâm so sorry I wasnât there.â
Y/Nâs eyes hardened, and she let out a sardonic laugh. âThatâs what youâre sorry for?â
She shook her head. âWhy in the world would you have expected to have been there, Sanemi? You werenât there any other time I needed you.â
âThatâs not-â
âToo bad thatâs the only thing youâre apologizing for,â Y/N sighed. âIf only you would be sorry for the pain youâve caused me, not for someone else hurting me.â
Sanemiâs gaze was hard, if not a little weary as he considered her words. âOkay Y/N, youâre right. Itâs past time for us to do this,â 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. âWeâve gotta have it out.â
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. âIâm not going anywhere. If you want to do this, we can do it right here.â
âFine,â Sanemi bit, voice stony as he folded his arms across his chest, matching her stance. âThen go ahead.â
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. âI guess Iâll start,â and he rubbed at his tired eyes. âWhy didnât you tell me it was your first time? That night?â
To Y/Nâs shock, Sanemi looked genuinely upset, and she despised the way it made her ache. For all her attempts to keep him forever at armâs 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. âWhy does it matter?â
âBecause I-,â Sanemi hesitated, his fingers curling against his palms, hands forming fists. âYou shouldâve told me.â
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.
âIt was none of your business,â Y/N decided, fingers toying with the ends of her hair as she avoided his gaze. âIt was my decision.â
Sanemi opened his mouth as though to argue with her, but she cut him off. âGod, this is so like you, isnât it?â
Her fists clenched, and the anger sheâd so carefully kept tucked away inside her began to bubble over. âIs it some weird male possessive thing? You fucked me, so now you think you have some kind of claim to me?â
âI care about you, you idiot, and I thought Iâd hurt you,â Sanemi replied hotly. âIf Iâdâve known, I wouldnât have done it at all.â
âItâs not about you caring for me,â Y/N snapped. âAdmit it â you feel entitled to me.â Youâve always felt entitled to my affections, ever since we were kids.â
Her leg began to bounce with her irritation. âYouâd get huffy if I showed the slightest bit of affection to any other boy â donât try to deny it. Youâd cross your arms and get all broody and it fooled no one.â
Y/N laughed, though it was without humor. âYouâre a possessive, jealous asshole, who keeps me around because I stoke your ego. You canât tell me you never thought, not even once, that I had feelings for you.â Y/Nâs eyes burned with angry tears.
âOf course I thought it,â Sanemi shot back. âYou think I was that fucking blind?â He cracked his knuckles, an anxious tic heâd had since they were small. âYou think I didnât see the way you looked at me, like I was your goddamn favorite person? How could I ignore that?â
Sanemi shook his head. âDid you ever stop to think, for one moment, that maybe I didnât say shit because I knew â have always known â that Iâm not fuckinâ good enough for you? Youâve always been the smartest out of the three of us, Y/N â but did that thought ever cross that pretty head of yours?â
âThatâs such a bullshit fucking reason,â Y/N said, exasperated. âSpare me the âIâm not good enough for youâ crap, Sanemi. This isnât a fucking novel,â Y/N ground her toe into the expensive, stone tile of the Uzuiâs kitchen floor in frustration. âBecause for all your talk, nothing changes the very simple fact that you cut me off like it was fucking nothing. Like I was nothing.â
Sanemiâs jaw went slack as he gaped at her. âIs that how you remember it?â
-----
âThough, I guess it wouldâve been hard to know it was you, anyways.â
-----
(Nine Months Earlier)
As he lazily strolled to his next class, Sanemiâs 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 couldnât explain why. Perhaps the flip in his gut had to do with the deep-set shadows beneath the girlâs glassy eyes, or the heavy hollow of her cheeks, as if sheâd 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 hadnât recognized the face, so worn and thin under the crushing weight of her grief.
He knew those eyes, because heâd 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 sheâd been walking, calling her name as he darted in and around scowling students, annoyed at the panic-stricken man calling a name that wasnât 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 hadnât just lost her mother.
Sheâd been suffering. For months.
And he hadnât known; hadnât been there for her to lean on, to make sure that she wasnât 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 heâd been that he hadnât known the depths of Y/Nâs endless distress.
Heâd 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 Kyojuroâs apartment, desperate to share the news with someone, anyone, who would understand the depth of his despair, and Sanemi broke down into tears.
-----
âAnd where have you been hidinâ all this time?â
âIâve been right here.â
âNah, you havenât.â
-----
(Six Months Earlier)
âItâs been months, Sanemi, and we havenât caught so much as a whisper of her,â Kyojuroâs voice was heavy with resignation as the blonde looked pleadingly at his best friend.
The muscles in Sanemiâs forearms flexed as his grip on his phone tightened while he fiddled with it. âWe havenât looked everywhere â have we tried the Pillars?â 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. âThe Pillars house over two thousand units â we canât just start going door to door. Weâd look insane.â
But the silver-haired man didnât reply as his eyes narrowed at his screen. âIâll bet most of the students are in the same building â most residents donât wanna put up with a bunch of noisy, drunk college kids.â
Kyojuro only looked at his friend in pity. âMaybe she doesnât want to be found, Sanemi. Not by us, at least.â
Sanemi finally looked up from his screen and cringed at the docility in his friendâs eyes. âWhat do you suggest we do, Kyo?â He tossed his phone on his kitchen table in annoyance. âJust give up? Dâyou really think itâs best to just leave her by herself?â
âYou donât know for certain whether she is alone, though,â Kyojuro countered. âShe mightâve found her own group here. Maybe she already has support. Maybe she doesnât need us anymore.â
Kyojuroâs words hit something soft within him that he hadnât realized had been left unguarded. For deep down, one of Sanemiâs many fears had always been that Y/N would one day outgrow him, though heâd always maintained that he wouldnât hold her back should the day come.
But that wasnât what happened; Sanemi had checked out after Genyaâs death, and had only snapped back into reality a few weeks before the news of Mrs. Y/L/Nâs 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 hadnât been marooned on her own isle. As long as she had someone, then Sanemi could accept that heâd fucked over any chance heâd had of remaining in her life, in any capacity.
But until thenâŠ
âWe donât know for sure,â Sanemi said hoarsely, leaning back in his kitchen chair, the worn wood creaking slightly under his weight. âAnd until we do, I ainât risking her being left alone to deal with this.â
Kyojuro looked at him with such pity and sorrow that it made him want to squirm. Refusing to meet his friendâs fiery, discerning gaze, Sanemi reached to pluck his phone from the table once more, scrolling through his phone contacts list, scanning the names.
âDâyou think she might still be in contact with her old roommate?â He asked though it was more of a rhetorical question, given that heâd already begun drafting a message. âIâve gotta catch my train here in an hour â but we could always try texting her.â
-----
âDâyou really think I didnât try to find you?â
-----
(Three Months Earlier)
âThree â youâre dating three women?â Sanemi asked, equal parts stunned and impressed.
The suave, silver-haired man nodded, a dreamy grin spreading wide across his handsome face. âSure am,â Tengen produced a sleek black phone from the pocket of his joggers, and opened his social media profile to search a username. âSuma, Makio, and Hinatsuru. Theyâre all seniors at Ubaya-U, and roommates.â Tengen wiggled his eyebrows. âWhich makes life very convenient for me,â
Sanemi met Kyojuroâs ochre stare as Tengen scrolled, as though waiting for his friend to call bullshit on the young detectiveâs brag, but the blonde only nodded.
âHold on, they all went out with a few friends the other night, and I think Suma uploaded a pic with all of âem,â Tengenâs eyes narrowed in on what Sanemi assumed was the girlâs profile, scanning. âAha! Here,â 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 âhis girls.â 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 --.
Sanemiâs stomach dropped as he looked closer at the image on Tengenâs phone. For there, sandwiched between the pink girl and one of Tengenâs partners, was the girl whoâd held Sanemiâs heart since the day theyâd met in preschool.
Y/N.
Only, she didnât look like herself, not really. The sultry smile she gave the camera didnât quite reach her eyes, which held that hollow, deadened look of someone whoâd long since lost their will to live; whoâd long since stopped caring they had.
Sanemi was only able to tear his eyes away from the image of Y/Nâs 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 heâd snatched the phone right from the young detectiveâs hand.
âSorry,â he muttered, handing Tengen back his cell. âIâm just surprised. Itâs been a minute since we last saw her.â
âWho?â Tengen frowned, looking back at the photo, before recognition lit his eyes. âOh! You mean Y/L/N? You two know her?â
Sanemi found it difficult to speak, so Kyojuro answered for him. âWe grew up together back home. We havenât really seen or heard from her in a while,â
Tengen hummed disinterestedly, apparently aloof to the way Kyoâs voice had cracked. âIâve met her a few times â Suma dotes on her.â He smiled as he clicked off his phone, leaning back in the booth. âSheâs been over to the girlsâ place a few times before, and she seems pretty cool; kind of a party girl, though.â
Sanemi gaped at him, finally finding his voice. âSheâs a what?â
Tengen shrugged. âYeah, one time I met up with their friend group at one of the clubs downtown â the Kizuki Lounge, I think? â 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 âem home.â He chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. âThey argued the whole drive back about who won.â
Both Kyojuro and Sanemi sat in dumb silence as the silver-haired man leaned in, his voice lower than it had been. âOne of their friends â she wasnât in that picture just now â but apparently sheâs some sort of chemistry whiz. Made a new drug thatâs like ecstasy, but lasts longer and has an easier come down.â A conspiratorial smile spread across his face, a devious light in his eyes as he whispered, âThe girls swear it helped give them the most intense orgasms of their life. I kinda wanna try it out for myself.â
Tengen leaned back and winked. âAre either of you interested? Even if you donât want it, you should try hitting up the Kizuki every now and again. Most of Ubaya-Uâs student body goes to party there during the summer, and they tend to offer decent deals on drinks.â
Sanemi had frequented bars, but never clubs, and Kyojuro rarely found himself in either. However, if Tengenâs comments about Y/N were to be believed, it was more than likely she was a regular patron of the local joint. Sheâd managed to evade every other attempt to get in touch with her, but perhaps meeting her on her turf would give him the opening heâd been desperately holding out for.
And Sanemi wasnât about to waste the opportunity to find out.
He took a swig of his coffee before setting it down, meeting Tengenâs stare evenly, though he fought to conceal the way his hands trembled. âWhat are you doing this Friday?â
-----
âI looked for you â everywhere, I looked for you.â Sanemi promised, his voice trembling as he pled with her. âY/N, I knew what you were going through â I know what itâs like --,â his eyes begged her to just listen, but she couldnât, not when sheâd spent so long staying so silent.
âYou have no idea!â 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.
âI was alone when she died! It was just me in that hospital room,â Her tears flowed in a steady stream down her face, though her voice remained steady and sharp. âI 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!â
Y/N âs hands wrung in her grief. âI had to call the nursing attendant and tell them â even though I could barely speak, I had to tell them my Mama stopped breathing.â As she spoke, she saw only the image of her mother in that damn bed, still and pale, and her mother but no longer.
âAnd do you know what happened next? They told me I needed to leave and sign fucking paperwork,â She laughed, derisively, though she only cried harder. âI had to sign fucking release forms and then they just â told me goodnight. I walked to my car. Alone. I drove home. Alone. Without her.â
âI was with you when you found out about Genya â we made sure you werenât alone! But me? Who was there for me?â Y/N was sobbing into her hands, her shoulders shaking with the weight of all the bitter loneliness sheâd been forced to endure over the last two years. âWhere were you?â
âY/N, I get it, I do â,â Sanemi began but Y/N shook her head.
âNo, Sanemi, you donât understand!â Her voice was no longer angry, but pleading, begging him â anyone â to understand just how much sheâd been struggling and for how long. âEvery night when I close my eyes, I see her, lying there. I hear the beep of her oxygen monitor going haywire because she wasnât breathing, and I see her take her final breath. Every night, over and over, and I just want it to stop.â
Y/N slumped back against the kitchen counter, exhausted and defeated. âYou asked me where Iâve been the last two years, and you were right â I havenât been here; because Iâm still there âin that hospital room. I never left.â
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. âAnd I donât think I will ever leave. Itâs been two years, Sanemi, and Iâm still sitting there, right where I lost everything.â
âSo 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,â Y/Nâs voice quieted to a near whisper, her voice hoarse from her tears. âAnd everybody else just moved on. I wanted to pretend that I had, too, even if only for a little while.â
âI was alone,â Y/N cried softly into her hands. âIâm still alone.â
When Sanemi spoke, his voice was rough and cracked. âI know I left you alone then,â but for some reason, his validation didnât soothe her the way it had with Kyojuro. âBut youâre not alone now â I tried, so hard, Y/N, to find you and make sure you were okay, and I failed,â His eyes shone with his own unshed tears. âI refuse to leave you alone, now. I know that probably pisses you off, but I canât â I canât leave you, not when I know --,â
âItâs too late,â Y/N interjected, lifting her head up to meet his eyes. âYou canât just waltz back into my life and decide you care now, not after all this time.â
âIt was never about me not caring,â Sanemi sat down in the seat opposite from her, his head braced between his hands as his fingers tugged at his hair in frustration. âI donât get why you canât understand that.â
She gaped at him. âYou stopped talking to me because I said I was in love with you â I fully understand that it was piss-poor fucking timing on my part, but you tossed me aside like garbage.â
Sanemiâs head snapped up, his eyes wide. âYou think thatâs why I stopped talking to you?â And suddenly, devastation pulled at his face as his shoulders sagged. âY/N â that was never the reason --,â
âWhat other reason was there, Sanemi?â 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. âEven if you werenât really that angry, it doesnât change the fact that you stopped speaking to me because of it,â
âY/N â thatâs not â,â 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.
âYou arenât the only one who has been grieving.â Sanemiâs words hit her with a force that knocked the breath from her lungs, and the fight from her blood.
âI lost the last person I could call âfamily,â too, Y/N.â Sanemi spoke with a brokenness that she knew only she recognized as grief â boundless and all-consuming. âI failed as your friend, thatâs true,â Sanemiâs voice quieted to a whisper. âBut I failed as a brother, first.â
-----
(November, 2 months after Genyaâs death)
Sanemi laughed as the enraged bar patronâs fist slammed into his nose. The blow wasnât 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.
âYouâre fucking crazy,â the man spat, stumbling slightly.
Sanemiâs grin only widened. âI bet your wife would like some crazy in her life. You look as dull as a sack of shi-,â 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 hadnât known why heâd made such an inane promise to his best friend in the first place; it wasnât as if he mattered.
Because the days following Genyaâs death had blurred into weeks, which bled into months. For Sanemi, life became marked by the amount of time that had passed since heâd become the only Shinazugawa left on earth.
Since heâd last been someoneâs 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 Genyaâs big brother â 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 Sanemiâs pride and joy. Heâd been eager to get settled into college, to get his own place so Genya wouldnât have to share a bunk bed with other kids the state had squeezed into their foster home. Heâd 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 hadnât even been there to protect him. What kind of big brother was he, if he couldnât even be counted on to be there when his little brother needed him the most?
He didnât even get to say goodbye. Heâd 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 brotherâs 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 heâd 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 Sanemiâs 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. Heâd let himself get beaten to a bloody pulp and then heâd limp his way home, barely making it to his bed before passing out in the sweet stupefaction of oblivion.
Occasionally, heâd wonder why on earth he was the one who was left alive; why fate had demanded Genyaâs life and not his, because Genya had so much more to offer the world than he did.
After all, Genya hadnât even picked the fight between the two boys from their old foster home, and heâd still ended up dead.
The time never seemed to stop even though his little brotherâs heart had; and with each passing day, Sanemi felt himself growing number and number. As the pulsing ache between Sanemiâs 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.
-----
âAfter Genya died I â,â Sanemi hesitated. âI wasnât a good person, Y/N. You didnât need to see me like that.â He ran a hand down his face, his weariness a heavy shadow beneath his eyes. âIâm honestly surprised Kyo stuck through it as long as he did.â
âI fucked up, I know that.â He admitted, his eyes shining with his own unshed tears. âI was an asshole to you, and I couldâve done more,â
Sanemiâs voice dropped to a whisper. âBut 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 Iâd barely started mourning Genya.â
Y/N felt her stomach drop to the floor and her vision tunnel. The weight of Sanemiâs 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 sheâd fucked it all up; and he was right.
Y/N had felt abandoned by her friends, but sheâd forgotten that it was she who distanced herself from Sanemi first; that sheâd done so to protect her own stupid pride and heartache after his apparent rejection of her love. Sheâd evaded him first, because sheâd assumed that was what he wanted, even though heâd tried texting her once. Sheâd neglected to consider that perhaps, his ignorance of her hadnât anything to do with his anger that sheâd 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 hadnât understood what it meant to grieve; hadnât been able to comprehend the ways in which it could engulf someone like a wildfire before they could ever see the smoke.
Heâs dealing with a lot right now, Kyojuro had told her, sternly. But perhaps Kyojuroâs admonition hadnât been that at all; perhaps it had been a tired, desperate effort to remind her that Sanemiâs introversion from the world had nothing to do with her at all.
âIâm sorry,â Y/N gasped, her hands shaking. âI didnât realize â I just knew I felt alone. All I wanted was you, Sanemi. I didnât care how. I just wanted my friend.â This time, Y/N did not try and steady her voice as the tears welled up in her eyes. âI needed you â I needed my âNemi. But you werenât there â I-I didnât think-,â
âI promise you, I wanted to make it right. I shouldnât have reacted the way I did at the train station,â Sanemi gave a great sniff, lifting his head to meet her eyes. âWhen I snapped out of it, I tried so hard to find you by then, it was too late; you were gone,â His tears fell fast and hot down his face. âIâm sorry. Iâm so fucking sorry, Y/N.â
âI failed you; I know that --,â
But the girl shook her head, collapsing back against the kitchen counter. âWe failed each other.â 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. âAnd I donât know how to fix this â how to fix us.â
Sanemi leaned back against the table, opposite her. âMaybe we canâtâŠmaybe we can never go back to the way things were.â
Even as he said it, Y/Nâs 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.
âThat doesnât change how I feel about us,â Sanemi continued. âAnd that doesnât mean we can't try to make something new.â
His words, so brutally honest and yet hopeful, tugged at the bleeding, mangled pieces of her heart. For the first time since theyâd reunited, Y/N felt as though she could finally see him â all of him â 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 hadnât meant to hurt one another. Perhaps, theyâd 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 heâd always been inevitable. And she wanted, more than anything, to ease some of the burden that sheâd failed to notice heâd been struggling to carry, too consumed by her own grief and pain and rage.
Sanemiâs 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/Nâs 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. âI donât think itâs a good idea,â he murmured, apologetically. âWeâre both all worked up.â
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. âLetâs just take some time, okay?â
Her lips trembled with the effort to keep herself from crying once more, but she nodded, nonetheless. Briefly, Sanemiâs 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. Sheâd managed to smile and laugh with Mitsuri and Kyojuro, and goofed around with Tengenâs beautiful girlfriends, but her heart remained heavy in her chest.
Though, it wasnât an unwelcome weight, even if it made her uncomfortable at times. The fallout from hers and Sanemiâs talk two nights earlier had been both the final knife to her blackening heart and its bandage, and sheâd been left to work through the complex tapestry of her feelings towards the man whoâd held her heart before sheâd even known sheâd 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 Sanemiâs room was on the first floor â just before the kitchen.
Heâd wanted space, and sheâd given it to him. Over the last two days, the pair hardly spoke to one another except for, when necessary, by virtue of the groupâs activities under the sun. It hadnât 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 sheâd 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 â at least, more so than sheâd 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 hadnât quieted since sheâd 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 Sanemiâs 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 Sanemiâs words had played, over and over her head, a never-ending tape that showcased her own selfishness on a loop.
You arenât the only one who has been grieving, heâd 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 didnât 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 sheâd long since stopped trying to overcome it. Instead, sheâd 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 sheâd found out her mother was going to die, sheâd 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 sheâd 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 motherâs eyes as Y/N had tearfully told her she would not live to see the end of the week.
âI thought I had more time,â her mother had wheezed, brokenly, clasping Y/Nâs hand as tightly as she could with her dwindling strength.
Sheâd 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 hadnât been able to toughen up and stop crying.
Iâm sorry, Mama, sheâd bawled, I canât stop crying, Iâm so sorry.
Her mother, with tears in her own eyes, had only shaken her head. Iâm sorry. Iâm so sorry.
As though it were her fault she was dying; as though Y/N didnât know that if death were a matter of will, her mother would be here, on earth, with her still.
In her motherâs most desperate moment, Y/N had been utterly incapable of providing comfort, instead needing to be comforted, like the child sheâd been. It was despicable; she was despicable.
To her horror, sheâd 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 hadnât 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 hadnât; 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, sheâd relished his suffering because sheâd thought sheâd been the cause of it, and it had felt so damn good to finally get him back for the two years of hell sheâd endured, never realizing that heâd been burning, too.
Theyâd 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/Nâs head shot up to see the person sheâd 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 heâd been staring, and he quickly looked down to his feet, the faintest trace of red crossing his cheeks.
âSorry,â he mumbled. âCouldnât sleep.â
Y/N huffed a watery chuckle, wiping quickly at the tears that clung to her cheeks. âNeither could I â just a little restless, I guess.â
There was so much she wanted to say, and yet, she couldnât 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 âeverything is fineâ smile.
Not that she wouldâve been able to fool him anyway, but still, she mused, it wouldâve been nice to try.
âIâm sorry â Iâll go back to my room,â 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 â made her feel vulnerable.
Especially under the microscope of his burning stare.
Sanemi didnât 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.
âIâve always hated seeing you cry,â 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 theyâd had about Mitsuri and Obanai before the pair had begun dating â back when they, too, had been chained to their own doubts of the otherâs sincerity.
They should let themselves try, heâd quietly insisted.
Sheâd 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.
âBut why?â Y/N pressed, because though sheâd 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.
âYou know why,â was his only reply, his voice growing hoarse as he drew up within an armâs 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.
âYou know why,â 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.
âThen show me.â
Sheâd 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 â so warm and soft â brushed against hers.
It was butterflies, Y/N realized as her eyes closed, that sheâd 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.
Sanemiâs lips moved against hers, still so gentle, and Y/N felt not just the love sheâd 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.
Sanemiâs 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/Nâs 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.
Sanemiâs 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/Nâs 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. âI can taste you through your damn panties,â 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. âAre you that needy for me already, baby?â
Sanemi withdrew himself from between her legs, and Y/N thought sheâd 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 sheâd 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.
âLet me take care of you, sweet girl,â 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 heâd 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.
âFuck, Iâve missed that,â 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. âItâs been two weeks, you nymphomaniac,â 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. âYouâre right, itâs been two weeks,â 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.
âW-what are you -!â Y/Nâs question was cut off as Sanemiâs 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.
âItâs been too long,â Sanemi grunted, his voice like gravel with his desire. âI need this. I need you.â
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.
Sanemiâs 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 sheâd 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. Sanemiâs 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/Nâs eyes flying open as she looked down, surprised to see Sanemi licking the inside of her thigh where heâd 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/Nâs 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 Sanemiâs 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.
âSanemi â p-please,â 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/Nâs 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/Nâs thighs seized around Sanemiâs head as she felt a rush of her juices gush out of her, coating his face. The vibrations from Sanemiâs 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 didnât 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 Sanemiâs 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/Nâs lips went dry as her eyes took in the leaking, red tip of him, so demanding and eager, and yet heâd 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 wasnât trying to get away; she wanted him, wanted to pleasure him as must as he insisted on pleasing her.
âSanemi,â 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.
âFuck this,â 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. âI need you â now.â
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/Nâs 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 sheâd long since lost her ability to speak thanks to Sanemiâs 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 heâd insisted she ride his face, Y/Nâs 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 Sanemiâs 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.
âS-Sanemi!â 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/Nâs hips moved of their own accord as she desperately sought to meet his frenzied thrusts, circling and pushing against him as Sanemiâs 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.
ââNemi,â 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. Sanemiâs 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/Nâs eyes as she ground against him because she understood what his actions meant even if heâd not uttered a word.
Sanemi Shinazugawa said heâd 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.
âNemi,â 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. âAm I â ah â doing this right?â
A loud groan from deep in Sanemiâs chest was her only answer, as her lover lifted his head from where itâd been thrown back against his pillow as he basked in the feeling of Y/Nâs silky cavern milking him for all he was worth.
âBaby, I donât think you could do wrong if you tried,â 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/Nâs 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 sheâd never seen sight more beautiful than that of Sanemi completely at her mercy.
âI want to finish like this,â Sanemiâs 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. âPlease, Y/N â,â
She only ground down against him harder, his pleas choking off in his throat as his fingers dug harder into her hips. âSh-i-it,â 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.
âFuck!â 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/Nâs 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/Nâs 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. âCâmere,â 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.
âN-Nemi,â Y/N whimpered, her hips beyond her control as they dropped and rolled and ground against him, in desperate search of her release.
âI know, sweetheart. I know,â Sanemiâs voice was raspy, his arm tightening on her waist in a poor effort at restraint. âI feel it, too.â
Sanemi began thrusting up into her spasming cunt, a renewed string of curses falling from his mouth as the messy sound of Y/Nâs 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/Nâs eyes were squeezed shut as she began to babble, alternating between cries of his name and nearly incoherent pleas for more.
Sanemiâs hand found hers and brought it up against his chest, holding it tightly as his other arm cinched around her waist. âLet go for me, baby,â 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 Sanemiâs grunts turned into loud, unrestrained moans as he bucked wildly into her, that running from him had always been futile, because sheâd 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 heâd been running in the same circle, too, just in the opposite direction. But now theyâd run out of track to tread, and heâd smacked right into her, knocking both of them off their axes, stumbling and spinning together until theyâd 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 Sanemiâs 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.
âYou said you think Iâm possessive â maybe I am,â Sanemi said after a long moment, as the two came down from their mutual highs. âBut itâs because I want to be yours. Iâve always been yours.â
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. âAnd I want you to be mine, too.â
Let him into your heart, and he will gladly give you his.
Y/Nâs 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.
âYou are mine,â she repeated softly, before moving his hand to press against the valley between her breasts, where her heart beat strong against her sternum. âAnd this has always belonged to you.â
Sanemiâs 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.
Sanemiâs thumb stroked the skin of her sternum absentmindedly. âWhat comes next, Y/N?â He murmured, his eyes tracing over the features of her face as she rested her cheek against his bicep. âWhat do you want this to be â what would make you happiest?â
Y/N thought for a moment and weighed all of the emotions that had sat heavily in her chest for the past two days â the past two years â 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.
âI want to be with you. Iâve only ever wanted to be with you. That hasnât changed.â
Sanemiâs eyes widened with a hope she knew heâd not dare let himself feel ever since their fateful reunion at the Kizuki. âSo youâll stay? With me?â
Y/Nâs answering smile was wide as she leaned up to brush a gentle kiss against his lips. âYes, âNemi. I will stay.â
And for the first time in two years, Y/N felt just as hopeful as him.
âCan I kiss you again?â 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 didnât 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 Sanemiâs 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. âThatâs my girl,â he murmured, his lips trailing along the underside of her jaw and down her throat. âJust focus on me, baby.â
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 Sanemiâs hips stuttered against hers, or every time Y/Nâs nails sunk harder into the muscular slope of his back, so lost in the feel of the otherâs body that Y/N was sure she did not know where she ended, and he began.
âSanemi,â 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.
âItâs okay, baby, Iâm here. Iâm right here,â 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. âIâve got you.â
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 Sanemiâs balls begin to tap against the curve of her backside as he picked up his speed.
âCome with me,â 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.
âIâm close â fuck, Iâm close,â Sanemi gasped, his lips crashing down against hers, his teeth tugging at her lip before he pulled away. âAre you?â
Y/N nodded desperately, as a long, high-pitched whine tore from her throat. âI wanna cum â ah â Sanemi, please, I want to cum.â
Sanemiâs hurried thrusts up into her melted into rutting, as his thick length hardly slid out of her sopping and spent heat. âEyes on me, baby,â he managed, his fingers digging into the plush of her ass as he began to twitch inside her â 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/Nâs 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, Sanemiâs 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.
ââNemi,â 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. âPlease, can we stay like this for just a little longer?â
She hardly recognized the breathy, needy tone with which she spoke. For so long, sheâd 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.
Sanemiâs 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. âI will always want you to stay.â
-----
Y/N did not remember the last time sheâd slept more peacefully than she did that night wrapped in Sanemiâs 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. ââS too early,â he protested, drawing a light chuckle from Y/N.
âWe have to leave soon,â 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. âLetâs at least enjoy the morning.â
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/Nâs 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 Sanemiâs 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 nightâs 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 Mitsuriâs vintage Volkswagen, she felt a pair of fingers, rough yet warm and familiar, brush shyly against her own.
âText me when you guys get back, okay?â Sanemi murmured. On the other side of the car, Mitsuriâs 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. âI will.â She said as she released him, Sanemiâs cheeks turning pink as he grinned back at her. His hand closed around hers where it rested on the door handle of Mitsuriâs 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 driverâs 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.
âTell me everything. Now.â
Y/N laughed as the pinkette pulled out of the manicured driveway of the Uzuisâ 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 latterâs car, her chest feeling full and warm as the two scream-sang along to every song on Mitsuriâs 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 Mitsuriâs car, Y/N noted Shinobuâs 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 theyâd 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 Shinobuâs 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 â Y/N had concluded she didnât 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/Nâs 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 wasnât 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.
âCall an ambulance!â 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. âMitsuri!â
As the pinkette scrambled for her phone, Y/N took note of the odd violet hue of Shinobuâs vomit and the sickly-sweet scent of flowers and synthetic fruit.
With trembling hands, Y/N brushed back a strand of her friendâs inky-violet hair that had fallen in front of her face. There, mixed within the dried blood beneath Shinobuâs 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.
âSheâs twenty,â Mitsuri sobbed. âWe donât know what happened, but it mightâve been an overdose. But thereâs blood, too.â
Her pink-haired friend was right; there was an alarming amount of blood, dark and sticky, that had pooled beneath Shinobuâs head. Y/N suspected sheâd hit her head on the edge of the counter, either because sheâd tripped or because sheâd passed out and hadnât been able to catch herself, but Y/N couldnât tell where the wound was, and she was too afraid to risk moving her friendâs head and worsening her injuries.
âIs she breathing?â It took a moment for Y/N to register that Mitsuriâs question was directed at her. âY/N is she breathing?â
âI donât know,â she whispered, âI donât know, Mitsuri.â And, because she was panicked and scared, and utterly useless, Y/N began to cry. âI canât tell; my hands wonât stop shaking.â
âI canât tell.â
-----
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 friendâs 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/Nâs 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/Nâs 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/Nâs eyes lifted just in time to see Sanemiâs 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/Nâs jaw so he could tilt her face up toward him, those lilac eyes scanning her frantically for any sign of external injury.
âI didnât know,â he said hoarsely against the crown of her head as he pulled her back against him. âTengen called -- only said an ambulance was being sent to your apartment â that a twenty-year-old woman had overdosed.â
Y/N shook her head against his chest, breathing in his comforting scent and allowing it to still the jitters crawling beneath her skin. âI havenât used in a week, Sanemi.â
Her â boyfriend? paramour? exhaled shakily, his arms tightening around her. âI was scared. After last night, I-â Sanemi swallowed thickly. âI was worried you regretted it.â
Y/N closed her eyes as she let herself melt against his stabilizing warmth. âNot you,â she murmured, âNever you.â
-----
An hour later, Y/N stood in her kitchen, chest heaving as she looked at the wreckage of Shinobuâs 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/Nâs 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 Shinobuâs Wisteria from their various stash spots around the apartment. It had taken her a while to hunt through pharmacology studentâs 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 friendâs mattress, tucked into her sock drawer, and slotted between pages of textbooks sheâd never opened.
Sheâd stood over the toilet where sheâd 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. Heâd 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 Sanemiâs belt and pants hitting the cold tile of the floor before he parted the curtain and stepped into the bathtub with her.
The moment heâd re-oriented the shower curtain to close them in, Y/N melted against him. Sanemiâs 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/Nâs bathroom closet â her two fluffiest â 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 sheâd 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/Nâs 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 Sanemiâs 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 heâd 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.
âHave you eaten today?â Sanemiâs voice broke the comfortable silence that had settled over them.
Y/N shook her head. âBut Iâm not hungry â really,â She urged as Sanemi opened his mouth in protest. âCan we just â just lay here?â 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 heâd 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.
Sanemiâs 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 sleepâs embrace, she spoke.
âI meant what I said earlier â I havenât used Wisteria in over a week. I stopped drinking. Iâm done, Sanemi. I swear it.â
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. âI know. Kyo mentioned on the way back that youâd been dealing with withdrawal for the last week. That it was why you werenât answering your phone.â
Sanemiâs arms tightened around her as she began to drift off. âIâm proud of you, Y/N.â And then, he added in a voice so quiet that she almost didnât hear it before sleepâs sweet lull pulled her under. âThank you for choosing to stay.â
-----
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/Nâs 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 â 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 couldnât 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, âthanks, man,â and clicked the phone off, tossing it back onto her covers.
âThat was Iguro. Shinobu is awake, and theyâre allowing visitors.â His eyes were full of a quiet concern as he regarded her gently. âAre you okay to go right now?â
Y/N was already making her way out of bed, nodding. Of course she was okay to go â 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.
âIâll stop at my place on the way back,â he added, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. âIf you want me to stay again tonight, that is,â
Y/N turned away so he wouldnât see the small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she quieted a laugh, so as not to make him feel embarrassed. âI want you to stay.â
Sanemi drove them, though he kept his hand firmly locked around hers the entire ride. Ever since theyâd began their physical relationship back at the start of the summer, sheâd been adamant that she wouldnât allow herself to accept any affection from him if he didnât 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 sheâd been the one to hold the stick marking the ground.
Now, in hindsight, she couldnât believe sheâd denied herself of his intimacy for so long â 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 sheâd never blamed the pixie-like girl for what Douma had chosen to do just a few weeks earlier.
Shinobu had confessed she hadnât been trying to harm herself â not really, anyways. Rather, sheâd been so overcome by her guilt and self-loathing that sheâd stopped keeping track of just how much alcohol sheâd been drinking or how much of her accursed Wisteria sheâd been ingesting. The cut on the side of her forehead truly hadnât been that deep, but it had been the result of a fall she couldnât 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 Shinobuâs 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 Giyuuâs 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 theyâd walked back to his car, Sanemi told her that Giyuu had driven straight through the night from his sisterâs the moment heâd received word of Shinobuâs 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 Obanaiâs, 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/Nâs 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 Sanemiâs arms as she listened to his heartbeat lull her to sleep.
Sheâd stripped herself of her clothes, leaving herself in only her thong, as she pressed herself against Sanemiâs 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.
âThank you for being here for me â yesterday and today,â Y/N murmured quietly, her lips grazing his collarbone.
Sanemiâs fingers brushed under her chin as he tilted her face up to meet her eyes. âI told you already, Iâm all in. Whatever it is you want from me, Iâll be it.â
Y/N smiled wryly at him as her eyes roamed his face in consideration. âSo, does that mean weâre official? Are we boyfriend-girlfriend?â
His responding smirk made her thighs squeeze together as he leaned in close to her face. âYou can call me whatever you want, baby,â he kissed her nose before lowering his lips to hers, though he held back, teasingly. âAnd for however long as you want.â
She giggled as he kissed her and it felt like coming home, and Y/N couldnât remember the last time she felt like sheâd 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.
âI love you, Y/N. With all my heart.â
Y/N thought her heart would fly out of her chest as Sanemi repeated the words sheâd 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 sheâd spent the last half of her university experience trying desperately to claw out of, but they did not.
Instead, Sanemiâs words â her words â mended something within her that sheâd 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.
âI never stopped loving you,â Y/Nâs voice grew thick with the tears that filled her eyes. âPlease know that. No matter how mad I was, no matter how low I felt, I always knew I loved you â and I still do.â
Sanemiâs answering grin was so beautiful, so bright, that she wondered why sheâd 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, sheâd 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 sheâd 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 sheâd 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 â 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 sheâd worn â stolen from Sanemiâs dresser one day several weeks earlier when sheâd 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 sheâd been slammed with. Initially, Sanemi had protested with a grumbled âfuck off,â as sheâd tried to lay claim to his favorite sweater.
Heâd change his tune rather quickly, however, when his girlfriend then donned the garment whilst giving him what he later called âthe best head of his life.â And so, the worn, dark gray sweater had remained safely in Y/Nâs care.
As the train doors slid shut behind them, Y/N took a deep, steadying breath, mentally preparing herself for the reason theyâd risen early that Saturday morning to return to their sleepy hometown.
The gentle squeeze of Sanemiâs 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.
âYou ready?â 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. âIâm ready.â
The advantage of living in a small town â no more than a village, really â 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 townâs small train station, towards the grocer to pick up flowers â 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.
âGenyaâs with the rest of my family,â Sanemi said quietly as they passed the iron-gated entrance that gave way to the sprawl of headstones that lined the grassy hilltop. âTheyâre just over here.â
Y/N nodded, squeezing Sanemiâs 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. Sheâd held him tightly, offering a litany of apologies for not being there for him more, for the fact heâd been doing it alone.
He wouldnât hear of it, insisting that she hadnât 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/Nâs 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 Genyaâs grave, Sanemi straightened, gripping Y/Nâs hand tightly in his own as his other lifted to wipe at his eyes.
âHeâd be over the moon, ya know, that weâre finally together,â Sanemi murmured, his voice hoarse with his grief, nodding at the last stone bearing the name of his beloved brother. âHe used to give me all kinds of shit for not making a move sooner.â
âHe always was wise beyond his years,â Y/N sniffed quietly, her own tears slipping freely down her cheeks. âHe used to pester me about it, too â would always ask if I was single, and if I said âyes,â heâd mention that you were also single.â She huffed a watery laugh as the image of the boyâs smiling face flashed through her memory. âThough, I think he did it more so to tease me, because Iâd always turn as red as a tomato whenever heâd mention it.â
Sanemi smiled softly as he squeezed her hand. âItâs a family trait, I sâppose.â
The couple remained at the site of Sanemiâs familyâs 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 motherâs final resting place for the first time since her death.
âI think the map said sheâs over this way,â Y/N nodded at a small, winding path that led down a gentle hill to the south of the Shinazugawa plot. âI remember I wanted her over there by the walnut tree â she loved them in the autumn.â
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 motherâs plot, her stomach twisting with anticipation.
Because she knew, the moment her eyes settled on the stone with her motherâs name and dates of birth and death, that reality would hit her all over again; but she persisted, for the sake of her mother, whoâd loved her more than anything.
âMr. Shinazugawa!â 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/Nâs mother rest.
âGood morning, Mr. Urokodaki,â Sanemi answered, nodding respectfully in greeting. âI canât believe they have you working on the weekends.â
The grandfatherly caretaker chuckled. âOnly the departed sleep; I do not.â He shifted the rake he was holding from one hand to another as he wiped his brow. âItâs been a few weeks since I last saw you!â
âSchool has kept me busy, sir.â Sanemiâs hand around hers squeezed and Y/N smiled softly.
âWell, I had a feeling Iâd be seeing you soon, so I went ahead and cleared any leaves off Mrs. Y/L/Nâs grave for you â and I took the liberty of clearing out the flowers you brought last time.â
Y/Nâs 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. âHeâs such a kind lad, your friend!â The old man smiled warmly at Sanemi, before continuing his explanation to her. âHe brings flowers not just for his family, but for a woman he knew growing up â like clockwork, every two weeks, for the last year. Thatâs why I was worried when he didnât show up last week!â
Sanemi chuckled softly. âIâm back to the regular schedule now, sir!â 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.
âY-you, youâve b-been,â she stuttered, her eyes welling with tears as she began to shake.
Sanemi hesitantly reached for her, brushing her hair back behind her ear. âIâm sorry. I know I shouldâve asked, first, but we werenât talking yet, and I wanted to make sure --,â Sanemiâs 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. âT-this whole time, âNemi â you â,â Y/N could hardly speak through her tears. Sanemiâs arms wound tightly around her waist, locking her to him as she buried her face into his neck.
Her boyfriendâs lips found her side of her head and he smiled softly into her hair. âTch, idiot,â he said, affectionately. âI told you already â there hasnât been a single moment thatâs gone by that I havenât loved you.â
âAnd I loved her, too.â He added quietly after a moment.
Sanemiâs 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 couldnât stop herself from peppering his face with kisses, as Sanemiâs 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 â 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. âI love you,â she whispered. The tears still shone in her eyes, but beneath them lay a fierce sincerity. âI love you. I love you. I love you.â
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.
âCâmon,â he said thickly after a moment, âDonât wanna keep your Ma waiting.â
Cries. Thanks for reading!
#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#sanemi shinazugawa#demon slayer smut#kny smut#sanemi x reader#sanemi x y/n#shinazugawa sanemi#kny sanemi#kny sanemi smut#kny#kny x reader#kny fanfic#hashira#hashira smut#sanemi smut#sanemi x you
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Humans are weird: Never War with Humans
( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps) Extract from âFall of the Bezenite Empire, By Zimpara Tulâ
âThe collapse of the Bezenite Empire was a great source of confusion for the wider galaxy. Even more so when it was orchestrated by the Terran Alliance which had so recently sued for peace with them after a nearly three decades long war.
Ironically the downfall of the Bezeniteâs was brought about by mere skirmishes between theirs and humanities respective settlers. They had each settled upon the world of Kimpara III but on opposite sides of the world. The terrain and weather patterns of the planet made extensive scouting impossible so for nearly four decades the two species went on developing their respective societies until by chance they ran into each other.
The meeting was far from cordial.
Both species claim that it was the other who initiated the war, either by a misunderstanding or openly hostile action. The resulting devastation to the planet ensured that the truth would remain forever shrouded in mystery as both sides brought increasing military might to the field.
Holding dominion of five star systems and three client races, the Bezeniteâs were hardly a super power but in their small corner of the universe they had established themselves as the regional power. Humans on the other hand barely established themselves within their own system and had settlers in a nearby system establishing new colonies. It was expected that the Bezeniteâs would use their superior technology to steam roll the humans and claim yet another client race. What had not been accounted for was the size of the human military industrial complex and the amount of war material they could produce.
Opening engagements saw Bezenite ships easily win against human ships even when facing 3:1 odds, but the humans were able to have the ships lost replaced by fresh ones within a matter of months. In terms of ground forces the Bezenites were vastly outnumbered by the humans who held a standing army of nearly 50 million compared to the roughly 8 million Bezenite forces. They had never needed a large army to police their territory so when the full force of the human war machine was brought against them they quickly found the entire length of their shared border under constant attack.
Worldâs that had never seen the scars of war were attacked overnight as human transports snuck through Bezenite patrols and deposited large invasion forces before retreating. This would have been a horrendous waste of manpower were it for the fact the Bezenite navy would not bombard a planet under their domain. This allowed the humanâs a sudo-shield which protected them from orbital strikes and allowed them to conduct extensive ground wars.
As the war ground on Bezenite leadership became infuriated when the primitive humans occupied several border worlds and establishing forward operating bases. The empireâs military, likewise far technologically superior to humans, was not large enough to stabilize the entire front and increasing gaps began to open.
To remedy this situation the Bezeniteâs began an increasingly total war footing for the first time in their peopleâs existence. Numerous recruitment offices were opened throughout the empire, even on client species worlds, to increase the total ground forces. Naval shipyards were constructed or expanded in the core regions drawing in hundreds if not thousands of new laborers to create even large fleets of ships. Even desolate moons were converted into self-contained factories as large scale industrialization projects were carried out on their surfaces to establish new manufacturing hubs.
By the thirty year mark of the war the Bezeniteâs military now stood at nearly half of what the humans had at the beginning of the war and showed no signs of slowing down when the humans suddenly initiated peace talks.
The act alone blindsided the Bezeniteâs leadership who had been planning out a protracted campaign for another five years to annex the human homeworld. This was derailed by the humanâs sudden openness to discuss peace which was well received by the Bezenite civilian population who had grown tired of the more than quarter century of fighting. It was this desire to end the conflict that forced the Bezenite leadership to discuss terms of peace and eventually end the war; and in so doing hand the destruction of their empire.
While the industrial boon for war material had brought great wealth to the empire, it now faced a financial crisis as the war came to a sudden and abrupt end.
Millions of soldiers were now being decommissioned and sent back to civilian life to look for new jobs, which were scarce as the numerous military factories began closing down due to a lack of requested material. Orbital shipyards attempted to convert themselves into civilian manufacturers to stay open, but the demand for civilian crafts was not nearly enough to keep the majority of them open resulting in further layoffs.
Whatâs more, the Bezenite client races who had served alongside their overlords had been given a taste of the wider galaxy and now returned to their people. They spoke of the wonders from across a dozen worlds and of the ferocity of the humans who had checked the Bezeniteâs advances. The once invulnerable image of the Bezenite Empire was shattered and now with returning soldiers with advanced combat experience many client races began revolting.
The Bezeniteâs had never faced such a drastic shift in their economy before. Hundreds of thousands of their citizens were now out of work and protesting in the streets and with the sudden revolts of their client races the empireâs domain was further fractured. They attempted to rouse their military once more to quell the uprisings, but with the dishonorable manner in which many of their comrades had been dismissed after serving the empire so loyally the military was sluggish to react and the uprisings amongst the client races soon turned into open war.
Within the next five years the Bezenite Empire was a shadow of its former glory as civil war ran rampant. The client races had driven many of their former overlords from their territory and, having seen how well humans could oppose their former masters, reached out to the humans for alliances and defense pacts. The Terran government was all too happy to send aide and launched several new military missions into former Bezenite space; both to ensure the independence of their new allies, and to carve up their former enemies territories for themselves.
Unlike the Bezeniteâs, the majority of the Terran military industrial complex was automated so the ending of the war did not have as severe an impact. When it came to the standing military forces only a fraction were let go due to old age or injuries sustained in the fighting. They had always kept their military at a high number so their budgets calculated the funds needed to sustain such a force at all times, meaning there was no mass dismissal of forces to flood the job market.
When the war had begun the humans knew that in a straight up fight they could not win against the Bezeniteâs. Their technological superiority would ensure that the humans always took far more casualties. So a new plan was devised which would force the Bezeniteâs to ramp up military spending, then at the peak of the war open peace negotiations and end the war entirely dealing a body blow the Bezenite economy could not recover from so abruptly. The following chaos caused by the economic collapse would leave them vulnerable and disillusioned with the empire as a whole presenting the humans with the perfect opportunity to resume the war.
At the end of the conflict the Bezeniteâs had been driven back to their original home system while the Terranâs claimed much of their former territory, even going so far as to award some planets to the former client states which were now seen as galactic partners with the humans; sealing the foundation of a future Terran Empire."
#humans are insane#humans are weird#humans are space oddities#humans are space orcs#scifi#story#writing#original writing#niqhtlord01
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Abraxas; Masterlist
Pairing: mafia boss!Min Yoongi x police office!reader
Genre: humour, angst, investigation themes, dark themes, enemies to lovers, slowburn, eventual smut, some fluff
Summary: My downfall ended up being a story in three acts. The introduction, the seduction, the damnation.
Or; Young and fresh out of police academy, I set out to take down one of the biggest gangs in Seoul. I didn't expect the whirlwind my life would become after meeting the one and only Min Yoongi. Caught between two worlds, it was hard to say whether I was pulled down or returned where I always belonged.
Current word count: cca 100k
Warnings: dark themes, talks of illegal activities, murder, sexism in the workplace, brief reader x OC, eventual smut, innacurate description of police work, some slight stalking (reader tailing Yoongi), each individual chapter will have its own warnings
A/N: welcome to my new and very first series! I will attempt to update this every month, so it's done quicker. Hope you enjoy your reading, don't be shy and feel free to interact!
Taglist is open! Let me know if you wanna be added ^^
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playlist / songs that fit the vibe : daylight by david kuschner, love again by dua lipa, let the world burn by chris grey, nothing matters by the last dinner party, killshot (slowed + reverb) by magdalena bay, a little death by the neighbourhood, adore adore by yoav, little girl gone by chinchilla, play with fire by sam tinnesz, the night by choi baek ho, astonist's lullaby by hozier, take me to church by hozier, smoke sprite by so!yoon!, all the good girls go to hell by billie eilish, my strange addiction by billie eilish, nobody's soldier by hozier, wet nightmare by bibi
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Act 1;
Ch. 1 | Interlude I. | Ch. 2.1 | Ch. 2.2 | Ch. 3.1 | Ch. 3.2 | Ch. 3.3 | Interlude II. | Ch. 4.1 | Ch. 4.2 | Ch. 4.3 |Interlude III.
"That which is spoken by God-the-Sun is life; that which is spoken by the Devil is death; Abraxas speaketh that hallowed and accursed word, which is life and death at the same time. Abraxas begetteth truth and lying, good and evil, light and darkness in the same word and in the same act. Wherefore is Abraxas terrible."
- 3rd sermon, Seven Sermons to the Dead, Carl Jung
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The First Companion | An Old Friend | Boy Warrior |
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Act 2;
TBA
"The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born must first destroy a world. The bird flies to God. That God's name is Abraxas."
- Demian: The Story of Emil Sinclair's Youth, Hermann Hesse
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The Prodigal Son | Enemy of an Enemy is a Friend | The Golden Maknae |
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Act 3;
TBA
"It is splendid as the lion in the instant he striketh down his victim. It is beautiful as a day of spring. It is the great Pan himself and also the small one. It is Priapos.
It is the monster of the under-world, a thousand-armed polyp, coiled knot of winged serpents, frenzy.
It is abundance that seeketh union with emptiness. It is holy begetting. It is love and loveâs murder. It is the saint and his betrayer. It is the brightest light of day and the darkest night of madness.
To look upon it, is blindness. To know it, is sickness. To worship it, is death. To fear it, is wisdom. To resist it not, is redemption.
It is the delight of the earth and the cruelty of the heavens. Before it there is no question and no reply.
That is the terrible Abraxas."
- 3rd sermon, Seven Sermons to the Dead, Carl Jung
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Epilogue
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Taglist (open):
@wobblewobble822 @viankiss @jjkwifestyle @mortal-body-timelesssoul @fullmetalavatar54
@ot72025 @jalexad @eleni-cherie @m00njinnie @mysteriousgeminizone
@faesageworld
#bts fic#bts x reader#bts fluff#bts angst#bts smut#yoongi fic#yoongi x reader#yoongi smut#yoongi angst#yoongi fluff#min yoongi fic#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi smut#min yoongi fluff#min yoongi angst#bts mafia au#yoongi mafia au#abraxas series
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Come down to the Black Sea VII
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Merry Honda-Days and Toyotathon everyone, here's the latest chapter of that story that everyone has forgotten existed lmao
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Mentions of violence, blood, attempted assault, slight sexual content, one very pissy, overgrown fish and bad writing. It's getting worse folks, much much worse. Soon there will be plenty of uh debauchery for all. I swear.
Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI
Who is the first to burn?
What an absolute hell-day.
The cafĂ© had been swarming with customers to the point of overflow, and you'd barely gotten a chance to rest your throbbing, aching feetâ or even take a damned breath without someone practically breathing down your neck for you.
With the entire island abuzz with the news of the gruesome beachside slayings, anyone with free time and not much else to do had congregated in social forums and restaurants to speak in hushed tones and exchange gossip.
Small communities don't have much going on in the way of excitement, so they swarm like bees to honey to any sort of scandal, and it seems that a potential murderer walking among the population is the best form of news to get people in all up in a bluster. Sure, the police had said it was likely an animal attack in their press conference, but people love to talk, and it turns out that a murder is much more titillating than a displaced predator.
Oh yes, the tips had been great, but you could barely feel your legs, and exhaustion was rapidly taking hold. Youâd had another date scheduled for tonight, but in the wake of things, you weren't sure if you could even keep your eyes open long enough to cancel it. A quick apologetic text and a promise to make up for it later is the best you can muster before the dreaded drive home.
Thoughts of crawling into bed and sleeping through the next afternoon occupy your head, mind on autopilot as you navigate your way back to your apartment. The winding road takes you by the shore, and you can't help but stare longingly for a brief moment before the light turns green. Twilight turns the sky a velvet purple, ocean lapping gently against the sands, and once more, your thoughts turn towards the sea. On nights like this, youâd used to visit the beach, basking in the silence and peace of nature. Truth be told, you miss it terribly; it feels as if a piece of yourself is missing as you deny yourself the opportunity to visit your once special place.
The vicious sea creature lurking beneath the waves has robbed you of that.
Vindictive, but more so, utterly drop-dead exhausted, you take the turn the opposite way towards your homeâ and duvet cover tantalizingly waiting on your bedâ instead.
Itâs a rink-dink pop-up apartment that costs more to live in than it likely cost to build the entire thing. Itâs not much, but itâs home, and itâs yoursâ and right now, thereâs nothing in the world you want more than to be inside, curled up under the covers layered on your cheap, shitty mattress.
Youâre almost home-free, pulling into your designated parking spot when you spot her : A sun-tanned, leather-skinned older woman that you'd rarely seen without a bent cigarette between her bony fingers is smoking just outside the stairwell.
Lisa. The resident nosy neighbor. Clearly, news about the beach had reached her as well, as sheâs perched in the stairwell like a vulture waiting to pounce on the rest of the unsuspecting tenants and entrap them into a lengthy conversation about her thoughts on it.
Eyes almost rolling out of your head, you canât help the audible sigh. You don't have the energy to converse with her, but you steel yourself, knowing it's entirely unavoidable. She's clearly hooking for conversation, several butts lying scattered around her ancient brown sandals. The best you can do is try to cut it shortâ as short as you can with a woman like Lisa.
You almost feel bad, being so catty and dismissive of her. She's a very nice lady; she's just exceptionally chattyâ and nearly deaf to social cuesâ and you aren't feeling up to it right now. The only thing you give a good goddamn about is the sink of a pillow.
âHey Lisa,â You stifle the sigh that threatens to escape, pulling your bag from the passenger seat and slamming the car door shut with a tired swing of your hip.
âHowdy kiddo!â She smiles at you, light from the setting sun spotting through the patterned holes in her wide brim straw hat as she nods at you in acknowledgement, clearly gearing up for the whole conversation with barely contained eagerness. âYou hear the news?â
âYep,â You fumble through your bag for your keys, trying to give a clear hint that you aren't in the mood for a chat today, even knowing it's pointless. âBeen at work all day. Hard not to. You know how people here talk.â
âWell, I'm glad they let you outta there before it got too dark. It's not safe out there anymore. Not like it was when I was young. You know, used to be you could sleep on the beach and not worry about a thing.â
That was never the case. Lisa sees things through nostalgia glasses, as is evidenced by her attire, which might have been considered hip at one point before you were even born.
âYeah, it's a real shame.â
âItâs a shame alright,â She inhales another drag from her cigarette, ashing onto the concrete beneath her as she shakes her head. âThey were probably good kids. Hurts my heart to see folks so young gone before their time.â âWho?â
âThe kids that were killedâ Well, kids to me ,â She purses her wrinkled lips. âAbout your age, if I had to wager. Nothinâ but youngins. They were having some kind of party on the beach when the tragedy occurred. Such a pity their life was cut short like that, especially in that way. What a travesty.â âYeah, itâs awful,â You yawn, half intentionally, half unable to help it. âIâve been warning the city council for years that theyâre infringing on mother nature, and sheâs going to bite back one day. Looks like she has now. She can be brutal, when she wants to be. You know, I told them about that new harbor. You seen that thing? Like we donât have enough around here. Pokes right at the boundary line.â You nod, not really sure what else to say. Itâs clear she wants to spark a discussion, but your head is a mass of fog and exhaustion, and youâre drawing a blank. Thankfully, she seems to get the hint, frowning slightly as she moves to let you pass up onto the stairwell.
âRight, well, you must be tiredâ you take care now, girlie. Donât be staying out too late. Something is stirring on this island. Been here long enough to know something ainât right.â
âI wonât, Lisa. Iâm going straight up to bed. Iâm wasted.â
âGood,â She flicks the butt onto the floor, stamping it beneath her shoes before reaching into a half-empty pack for another, apparently still set on fishing for conversation from another unaware person just trying to get home for the day. âHeart canât take losing anyone else. Old lady can only take so much heartbreak.â
You offer her a sincere smile before continuing on your way. Sheâs a genuinely sweet womanâ lonely, if you had to guess. She doesnât seem to have any children or family of her own, thinking of herself as some kind of den-mother to the apartment instead. Normally, youâd be more sympathetic to her, but right now, all you can think about is crawling into bed and curling into a ball.
âTake it easy, Lis. Donât stay out too late either.â
You drag yourself up the metal stairs, footsteps heavy and echoing off the metal steps and against the concrete walls. With one last look at the sunset, you flip through your keyring, more than ready to fall into the sheets. You insert the key andâ
The door handle turns without you needing it.
Thatâs odd. Youâre damned sure you locked the door today. Pretty sure, anyways. Itâs possible you didnât. You were a bit preoccupied, after all. It mightâve been one of those little mental slipups. Either way, youâre too tired to worry about it. With a shrug, you kick open the door with a nudge of your boot, hurtling your body through the archway like a stone.
Your apartment is dark, and left with a pounding headache from overwork and undernutrition, you donât even bother with the lights. Instead, you fling your bag onto the sofa, where you resolve to deal with it tomorrow. Right now, you want something to calm your churning stomach. Lunch breaks are a fantasy when things get so busy, and youâd only been able to shovel a few bites into your mouth between rushes.
Poking your head in the fridge, you note over the half-eaten leftovers strewn about the shelves, something foul-smelling clearly hiding amongst them. Whatever it is, itâs permeating what little good food you do have, pulling out a few things of tupperwear only to throw them back in disgust, shaking your hand off as if it could wave away the stench.
No dinner tonight, it seems. Even if the lack of food wasnât enough to turn you off, the smell certainly is, and waiting for takeout sounds like the worst idea youâve ever had. Tea for dinner it is.
The stove hums to life, the burner transforming into a bright, scalding red as you fish the teapot from one of your cabinets. Itâll take a few moments for the water to reach boiling point, and it should be just long enough for you to slip out of your day clothes and into something far more comfortable. Nothing in your life has ever sounded better than getting out of these pants and into something light and airy and comfortable.
The hallway is dark, and you nearly trip over a pair of shoes you mustâve left there earlier. The last few days have left you scatterbrained and in disarray, and clearly youâd been letting yourself lose sight of your mental faculties. Forgetting to lock the door, kicking off shoes in the hallway, and who knows what else youâd been neglecting. Tomorrow will have to be an organizational dayâ but youâll deal with that tomorrow when you have the ability to process it.
Fumbling through the dark, you manage to find the closet, shucking off your shirt and kicking your pants off your legs as you reach for a clean tank top and a pair of sleep shorts on the shelf. You hear your phone vibrate in the pocket of your work pants, but you canât be assed with it right now. You donât even bother fishing it out as you kick your pants to the side. There is no one in the world you feel like talking to right now. Not even your scorned date who is probably bummed you decided to cancel. You are too, to be fair, but you wager you wouldnât be much fun right now.
As you unclasp your bra and slide the straps off your shoulders, you could swear you hear some kind of thump behind you. Creaky, miserable old apartment has you scoffing under your breath. Probably the damned AC unit thunking out again. Yet another chore to add to the list of shit to do tomorrowâ not that the superintendent will do anything. As far as he is concerned, you pay to sleep here, and thatâs that.
The teakettle starts to whistle from the other room, and you shuffle your dirty clothes to the side, shutting the door to the closet and stepping back into your bedroom. Your eyes havenât quite adjusted to the darkness, but you swear you see movement .
Itâs far too dark to truly observe anything in the shadows, but it leaves you with the lingering feeling that something is wrong . Something that sends your hackles raising and a shiver down your spine. Nothing seems out of place, but something feels off .
You try to shake it clean, ignoring the strange bristling that has the small hairs on the back of your neck rising, opting for the kitchen instead. Everything that has happened lately must have your brain fried and your nerves on end. Or you might just be exhausted.
Yeah, that seems right.
The kettle steams and pops as you pull it from the burner, filling an old mug with the water and stirring in a teabag. It smells adequate, and you're halfway through inhaling when you swear again that something moves out of the corner of your eye. You havenât slept properly in days, and the dull light of the setting sun must be playing tricks. Shadows dancing on the walls. The awful news playing on the edge of your mind, making you paranoid. Whatever it is, it can wait.
It's nap time, and not even the God of the sea himself could stop you from it. Nor can that edging fear that grips at the fringes of your mind and wonât relinquish its grip.
From the hallway, you can see the finishing line. The pale outline of your bed in the darkness, soft and waiting, inviting and utterly perfect. You don't bother flicking on the lights to settle in first. It's so close now, you can practically feel the pillow. The tea goes onto the nightstand, and you're not sure that you'll be awake by the time it's cool enough to drink. You fall into the feathery mattress, so ready for sleep that you swear you're already practically half way there. Your eyes close, not even bothering to worm under the covers.
Finally .
Your body sinks into the feather bed, limbs falling limp and relieved exhale inevitable. Itâs unbelievably comfortable in a way you could swear it never has been before, and it feels like youâre wallowing in a cloud. Itâs so close now, the sweet, lovely embrace of restâ
But that strange, terrible feeling stays sharp on your mind, ever insistent and refusing to quiet despite your whinging mental protests.
Something has you on edge. Some subtle thing that doesn't feel quite right. Something uncanny and off that has you shifting restlessly. Your body is so exhausted that you can barely think straight, but something raw and primal and cold has lodged itself in your gut, refusing to let go.
You try to ignore it. Try to shrug it off as typical weird day strangeness. You flip onto your back, trying desperately to will yourself into the sleep you'd been so desperate for. Your stomach churns, anxiety and adrenaline racing through your veins for no real discernible reason, and even as you grasp for rest, it slips through your fingers.
The short hairs of your body stand on end, that dreadful feeling of being observed without your knowledge edging into your mind. What was once a persistent tired warps into a cold dread, your heart pounding, something urging you to runâ
Your eyes open of their own volition, scanning around for something . Something abnormal, something wrong. You're greeted by nothing but blackness, but you swear, you could swear â
âYou humans are so dull. No wonder youâre all half dead already.â
You did not imagine that. Your eyes dart in the direction of the noise, blood like ice and hands beginning to shake. Body paralyzed in fear, refusing to move. That voice, it sounds likeâ
âIt's aâ how you sayâ modern fucking marvel you haven't been killed off already.â
Sparking to life like an old motor, your body shoots up off the mattress, heart thrumming in your ears and legs quaking but ready to bolt. Your feet hit the cheap carpet, knees bent and poised to flee. How is it possible, how is it possible?
A heinous cackle resounds through the room, echoing off the thin walls of your apartment. That hideous laugh that haunted your dreams the first time you'd heard it.
âT-Tomura?â
This has to be a nightmare. It has to.
A frantic look around greets you with two horrible red eyes in the shadows, glowing faintly in the dark. Somewhere in the dim light, you can make out the shine of ivory teeth, beset by twin sets of fangs, bared in a snarl. Your hand slaps the nightstand, determined to prove to yourself you must be losing it. A flick of the light on your table only proves true your worst fear.
Heâs here.
Like a horrid shadow, a monster clad in black, a figure stands in the corner of your room bearing down on you. Tall and imposing, menacing as he glares you down with horrible red eyes.Whatever reason heâs here, it cannot be good. Your mind swims through memories of your last encounter: The ferocity, the viciousness, the vindictive and sincere way heâd lunged at you. Heâd wanted you deadâ and now heâs here to finish the job.
A desperate rabbit cornered by a fox and left with no other options and, frankly, nothing to say to him, you bolt .
Like a newborn fawn on stilted legs, you tear towards the door of your bedroom, almost tripping over a pair of wayward pants. You barely manage to catch yourself on the wall, scrambling to right your balance. There's heavy football behind you like the beat of a drum, approaching inhumanly fast. You claw at the door frame, desperate for the extra momentum. Another cruel laugh, this time immediately behind you.
He's on you before you can even manage a scream, large hand encircling your neck, sharp nails dimpling painfully into the soft skin. Squealing and dizzy, he rips you to your feet with a fluid and disconcerting ease, tossing you back on the mattress with a shove of his arm.
You try to scramble backwards on the bed, efforts squandered as his frigid, clawed fingers wrap themselves around your ankle, yanking you forward once more. Fear and horror mix a caustic cocktail in your gut, kicking fruitlessly at your assailant. His soft chuckle is almost somehow more dastardly than his shrill bark of laughter, sending a riptide of terror through you as he approaches, your leg held in his unrelenting iron grip.
âHow is this possible?â The words force themselves from your throat, your hands clutching the sheets as if they could protect you somehow. âYou can'tâ it's not possible!â
âYou arrogant little idiot,â he spits, a guttural growl overtaking the ends of his sentence. âYou don't know what I'm capable of. But you'll find out.â
âBut you'reâ your tail andâ But ââ
His other hand curls into the neckline of your tank top, the fabric audibly stretching between his fingers. â Disgusting , isn't it?â
He pushes forward, your head pulling instinctively backward as he leans closer. An overly large hoodie envelops his upper body, with an ill-fitting pair of black jeans riding low on his hips. The hood is pulled over his head, pasting a smattering of frazzled silver hair to his forehead and over his face, leaving only his chapped, snarling mouth visible to you.
â How ?â
Another derisive laugh, mouth curling into a twisted grin. âI'm capable of all sorts of things you can't even fathom.â
The metallic, acrid scent of copper becomes palpable and assails your nostrils as he leers over you, and even in your terror, you begin to notice suspicious, dark stains spattered over the fabric of his ill-fitting clothing. Sand stubbornly layers in the creases, rubbed obstinately to the cheap cotton, and you notice strange rips and tears far too clean to be organic and âhipâ all over his attire.
Still, itâs not until you see the barely visible logo for a local college, bloody and half-torn from where it had been ironed on, that it hits you.
The clothes aren't his. They canât be.
He took them. From his victims.
âJesusâ it was you !â
âYou'll need to be more specific,â he grins.
âThe beach! Those college kidsâ the massacreâ you killed them!â
He rolls his slitted eyes, an obstinate sense of pride still shining through his dismissive expression. âDon't act surprised . You thought someone else had finally had enough of your kind to do something about it? Don't be stupid.â
âGodâ how could you? They were innocentââ
Snorting air through his nostrils, he scoffs. âInnocent? There's no such thing for one of you ,â He pushes your back further onto the mattress, torso leaning down and head pushing closer until he's so near that you can feel his breath puff on your collar bones as he scents you. âBesides, it's your fault.â
âI didn't kill them!â
âBut you made me do it. Didn't you?â
âWhat are you talking about?â You try to shove at him, feeling his chest against yours. The burn in the back of your thigh from how heâs stretching your leg wails and whines, but itâs a dull roar compared to the cacophony of fear that blares in your brain like a siren as you hear him snap his teeth.
âI couldn't even eat them all. I wasn't even hungry ,â he giggles maliciously, driving the point of cruelty home. âThey died because of you, you know. Because you had to be a stubborn little brat.â
âYou're a fucking monster,â you hiss, anger starting to bleed through the fear. âDon't you dare blame me.â
âIf you'd have let me do what I wanted, they'd still be alive,â Softly, he huffs onto your neck, raspy voice laced with faux-sympathy. His hand releases your newly-maimed shirt to trace his thumb over the hollow of your throat, fingers eventually settling to rest on the precipice between your shoulder and neck. You can feel the tip of his claw prick at your skin, threatening to sink deeper. âSo it's your own fault.â
â Fuck you!â
âOffer still stands,â He mockingly grins, tongue lashing out against your pulse point as you recoil. âI'm sure I could figure it out in your clunky human form. The outcome will be the same either way. I wasn't hungry then, but I am now. Starved , even.â
His fangs graze your flesh, finally removing his hand from your ankle only to anchor you down by the hip instead. His grip is steel, claws sharp as razors resting threateningly against your skin. You whimper as he chuckles, tongue lapping more insistently this time.
âWhere's all that fight now? All that brattiness you had? Not so brave now that I can touch you, are we?â His fingers tighten on the rounds of your hip, nails divoting just enough to punish and leave you twitching. âIt doesn't matter now.â
Hate sparks your survival instincts, your arm slowly moving to the side and praying the movement doesnât catch his attention, your hand desperately searching for somethingâ anythingâ you can use against him. It reaches the cool wood of the nightstand, fingers fumbling about for a grip on something weighty.
âIt doesn't have to hurt,â He pants, fingers beginning to wander beneath the hem of your shirt. âI can be mercifulâ if you beg me.â
âLike hell ,â you spit, longing to tear those terrible eyes from his head as they scan over you.
âThere's a girl,â He exhales in a ragged way that leaves your gut shooting through the floor, hand slinking to squeeze at the rounds of your waist. His tongue slips through his teeth one last time, lapping at the tender spot on the crook of your neck until youâre certain itâs gone raw. âI'll almost miss you when you're gone.â
Faster than you can register, his lips latch, fangs driving into your yielding throat without pity or remorse. Your mouth opens in a wordless cry, scream caught like a flightless bird in your chest. He wiggles above you, worming his way further onto you and clutching for leverage as he gnashes. His teeth are like knives, your blood warm and feeling horrifically uncanny as he tears into you almost teasingly with every whimper and whine, clearly testing the limits of his restraint. You can practically feel his every synapse longing to rip into you, quaking with ravenous need. A true predator, held back only by the leash of his own urges.
It will only satiate him for long. He's supping on your fearâ your terrorâ reveling in his own victory.
You won't let him have it.
It's now or never.
Your voice strains with pain and adrenaline, your shaking fingers curling around the handle of the mug of tea, still almost warm against your flesh.
âThe feeling isn't mutual!â
Driven by pure survival, itâs over in a flash. With as much momentum as you can muster, you bring the ceramic down on the top of his head. There's an audible thunk hidden somewhere underneath his animalistic howl, and your body slams into overdrive, kicking him off of you with every ounce of hidden strength you have as his fangs release their hold. Faster than you knew yourself capable of, you're off the bed, hand still cradling the sodden mug, body hunched in a defensive position, unsure of whether to fight or fly.
He turns to face you, mouth still wet with your blood and eyes ablaze with fury. His hands brandish those dastardly claws, so eager to tear you apart. Abject terror nearly nails you to the spot, a deer in wretched, red headlights, but some hidden strength drives you to throw the heavy mug square at his head and make a break for it. He narrowly dodges it with inhuman reflex, lip curling into a vicious snarl as it smashes against the wall instead, shattering into fractured pieces that scatter across the floor of your bedroom.
You don't stick around to hear what he says next. Feet pounding the carpet, you take off down the hallway, desperate to reach the front door. So close, if you can just get outside, you can call for help. You can almost feel the air from outside, hand reaching forward towards the handleâ
â Get back here! â
Fingers snag in your hair, nails grazing your scalp and ripping you backwards, a high-pitched cry erupting from you as agony sears through your spine. Your back hits the wall of the hallway hard enough to bruise, a cold hand curling around your neck once again and squeezing hard enough that it leaves you gasping.
âYou little bitch .â
The back of his hand meets your cheek with uncanny strength, and now it's your turn to taste bloodâ your own â as one of your teeth juts into the tender, soft flesh of your inner lip. You see double for a moment before your eyes manage to focus in on his face. His expression is twisted into one of hateful rage, teeth bared and dyed a watery crimson. Another yank forward only to slam you against the wooden wall once more, your head making a hideous crack as it makes contact. Pain explodes through your skull, tears forming on your eyes against your own will.
âYou could have made this easy,â He tightens his grip on your throat until you struggle for breath, hiccuping air pathetically where you can. âBut now? I'm going to take my time with you. I'm going to make it hurt .â
âGo to hellâ you overgrown clownfishââ
âTalk tough while you can,â Five sharp pains where his fingers dig into your skin. âSoon you won't even be able to beg me to stop.â
You slam your bare foot into his bony shins, trying to kick him off. You swear you hear him chortle, tongue flicking out over his lips. A stray picture frame clatters to the ground at your struggling, glass shattering as it makes contact with the floor.
âYou humans are so weak. It's pathetic. â he loosens his grip only a modicum, just enough to watch you flounder in his grasp. You grab at his wrist, raking your nails across his pale skin, tearing at his sleeve and leaving red welts in your wake. If he even notices your weak attempt to pry him off, he shows no indication.
âLet me go!â
âI don't think so, you sniveling little brat. I gave you a chance, and you spit it back in my face.â
âWhat are you even talking about! You're the one who threw a fit and attacked me again out of nowhere! I didn't even do anything to you!â
âYou're just like the rest of your kind,â he growls, spitting the final word like an insult. âYou understand nothing .â
âYou don't even try to explain! You justâ you just get all pissed off and start throwing tantrums!â
His face contorts, and then evens out. âDo you really think mocking me is the wisest idea?â
âWhat does it matter? You're going to kill me either way!â
âTrue,â he shrugs, lips curling upwards into a sinister smile. âYou might as well just let it happen. Let this all be over.â
You wince as he leans in again, legs kicking wildly, ankles pounding the wall of the hallway.
âYes, soon, it'll all be over, and things can go back to the way they should be. You'll be gone , and I can forget all about this and you ââ
Something pings in your brain. As you scratch and claw at his skin, something nags at you. Something heâs said. It doesnât add up. Even your fear-shackled brain recognizes that something is off . He can hate you, sure, but all of this? Forgoing the sea, dragging himself through a city he loathes filled with people he wants dead? Risking life and limb and his prized freedom simply to teach you a lesson? He could have waited and watched, but he didnât . He was willing to bet it all to see the light leave your eyes and suffocate the lingering flames of your influence on him. Behind the terror of the situation, the logic cracks apart and begins to break.
Through some effort, you manage to drag your gaze away from his hate-filled one, eyes flickering to the pale of his bony wrist, your fingertips brushing against a bit of fabric tied around it.
Clothing. Your clothing. The scrap heâd ripped from you in his last monstrous fit of rage.
Something clicks.
âS-sounds like youâre the one with the problemââ You try to force a snigger, laughing in the face of death. âYou think killing me will make it all go away, huh?â
âYou donât know what youâre talking about,â He sneers.
âDonât I?â You heave air into your lungs where you can beneath his steely fingertips, body panicking at the looming suffocation.
âNo, you donât!â
âItâs almost romantic. You made yourself human just to get little old meâ â
âShut up .â
âN-nah,â You offer him a cruel smile, equal parts spite and amusement. âGot you really twisted up, doesnât it? Never been told no?â âYouâll be quiet if you know whatâs good for youââ
âDonât thinkâ Donât think I will. And I donât t-think thatâs what you want either, if you think about it.â âYou will ,â He tightens his grip.
âDid it make you that j- jealous ?â
Another slam before you can even finish the word. Your head is spinning, pain splitting your skull in two. Your head lulls, eyelids fluttering.
âY-you canât take itâ being toldâ n-no,â Your head swivels loosely. âAnd thatâs why youâre here. I mean, thatââ You inhale raggedly, regaining your strength to glare up at him with unrelenting accusation. ââOr youâre that lonely .â
âYou have an awfully big mouth for an idiot about to die!â âAdmit it,â You swallow, cringing at the taste of pennies in your throat and tinging the taste buds on your tongue. Itâs thick and sickening, but you power through. âYou were bored . Iâm the closest thing to entertainment youâve had. The closest thing to a friend. You missed meââ
âYouâre a pathetic human whore . I came here to end you like you deserve .â âDid you?â You grin up at him, your own teeth slick with blood. âHowâd you find me, Tomura? â
He says nothing, but his lips twitch ever so slightly. Thereâs that murderous glint to his eyes, a fire feeding into an inferno, but you canât help pushing. It feels like heâs accidentally revealed some sacred part of himself against his will. Some baleful, forsaken, deep place he keeps hidden even from himself.
âAnd now youâre in my apartment, t-trying to kill me. Or is it your own misery you want to snuff out? You think if you kill me, itâll all go awayââ
âIâd kill you and every other filthy human if I could,â He says, eyes flashing and voice full of conviction.
âBut you canât ,â You cough, still trying to breathe through his steely grip. âSo now youâre here.â
âNot yet. But I can sure as hell kill you .â
Itâs a gamble. A huge one. But the way you see it, the bad end will come either way.
âAnd let me guess, you think if you kill me, everything will go back to the way it used to be? That the crippling loneliness will subside, and you can go back to sustaining on pure fucking hatred alone? âKill your friends and you can miss themâ type of deal? That you can pretend that you never cared at all? Fool even yourself?â
Looking back at your âfriendshipâ with him, it seems more antagonistic than anything, but for him, thatâs probably the only contact heâs had in ages. There may be others of his kind, but you have an inkling that they are either gone, or he hasnât seen themâ or isnât welcome among them. Despite his best efforts to appear otherwise, he has the quiet desperation of a man who hasnât been heard and allowed his sadness to fester and harden into molten rage, oozing and destructive and directionless.
âWe are not friends !â
âFine line between care and hatred. You just seem like you canât tell the difference anymore. Youâre here trying to murder me and that doesnât happen when youâre as apathetic as you claim to be.â
âYouâre a fool.â âAnd youâre lying to yourself! You think killing me will make it go away? You think that ache will stop? Stop and think for a fucking minute, Tomura! You have no plan, no prospects, and the entire island on high alert. You risked your life to be here and do this. You think thatâs normal?â
âItâs your fault!â He hisses, spitting words between his teeth. âI hate you!â âWell at least you can admit you feel something! â
He growls, a low rumble in his chest, but again, he says nothing.
âLook, if I disappear, people will come looking. I have a job, family , people that will know something is wrong. Theyâll find you here, and youâll be carted off to be a glorified science experiment for the remainder of your life. Youâll never see the ocean again. Is that what you want? Is this really worth it?â
Silence. The wheels in his head are turning, and while he will never admit it, thereâs the tiniest flicker of dubious doubt there. âYour only hope of ever making it home again is to let me liveâ unless youâre willing to die for me. For this . I could take you back, and we can justâ just forget about this. But thatâs your only chance. If you kill me, itâs game over. For both of us.â
A stand-off between the both of you. His white-hot stare, eyes like malignant rubies boring into yours, steeling himself against your invasive words. There is no part of him ready to admit anything close to what you've accused, but the pressure on your body doesn't increase. Frozen, a violent moment in time suspended for what feels like eternity in amber.
You're certain he could have waited like that for an age. A never ending nightmare he's more than happy to keep you held hostage in.
At least, he would have.
Something catches your attention. A noise that isnât your wild thrashing or his whispered threats. A thumping noise, a bit too rhythmic and controlled to be from your struggle.
Just down the hall, someone is knocking on the front door.
It only takes him a moment to realize as well. He looks at you, and you look at him, both of you in a stasis. His hand on your neck, your nails dragging against his wrist. An endless moment with the both of you frozen in a tableau of violence.
âDarlinâ, you in there?â
Lisa . Itâs Lisa. Oh, you could kiss her.
He shoots you an accusing glare, as if you had planned this from the start. A large hand slaps over your mouth, fingers still flexing on the rounds of your throat. His body bullies you further into the wall to stay your struggling, doing everything in his power to keep you quiet.
âNot a single word,â He hisses. âIf you even try to scream, Iâll break your neck.â
Itâs difficult to breathe through his large hand cupped on the latter half of your face, leave alone through the pressure on your windpipe, but you obey, nodding to his command. If nothing else, it might buy you a bit of time to think.
âI heard some commotion from downstairs, so I thought Iâd come check on you. Are you in there?â
Neither of you move a muscle, entirely frozen in place. Moments pass, but you know Lisa. Sheâs persistent. She wonât be leaving.
âSweetheart?â she's pounding on the door insistently. âYouâre worrying me. I know youâre in there. Is everything okay?â
âDon't fucking move,â He reminds you. âI'll kill you both .â
Lisa, nosy as she is, is a good woman. You don't want her hurt. You keep your mouth shut, even as you could scream. She keeps knocking, even as you pray for her to leave. Think, think, thinkâ
Tomuraâs entire body is tensed and coiled like a cobra, each muscle pulled taut and poised to strike. He seems caught between fight and flight; his instincts screaming that he turn tail, but his hatred demanding he stay. More humans is the last thing he wants, but he refuses to allow this to have been for nothing. He wonât get the chance again.
âWell, that does it. I'm calling the cops!â She croaks from outside the door, panic rising in her throaty voice.
His eyes widen the tiniest bit, and for the first time, you see it. Fear. He can't take on an entire department. Guns drawn and ready and eager to brutalize. At best, it cuts his plans short and kills him. At worst? They take him alive.
That. You can work with that.
His smothering grip on your face muffles what you try to say. His eyes flick to you, and against his better judgement, he eases it the tiniest amount. Just enough that you manage to squeak out a sentence, but ready to clamp down again if youâre foolish enough to try to yell.
âShe's not going to leave, and she will call.â
âThen perhaps she needs to die ââ âPeople will notice her missing. Two missing people in the same apartment? Thereâs no way in hell youâll make it back to the ocean. You wonât make it anywhere! Theyâll cordon off this entire block. Weâll be dead, but so will you. Or worse .â
He seems to panic for a moment, eyes flitting about, and gripping tightly. He clearly didnât plan for nosy neighborsâ if he planned at all. âAnd how do I know you won't run anyway? You humans are stupid like thatââ
âI don't want you to hurt anyone else! If I run, you'll just kill us both, like you said! Iâm not in any grand hurry to die!â
He seems to deliberate for a moment, fingers flexing and eyes narrowed as he realizes his time to decide is running short. Even as he tries to hide it, thereâs the tiniest hint of panic hidden behind the wrath of his expression.
âLook, the longer you wait, the more likely it is sheâs calling the police. Then weâll both have a lot of explaining to do that I know you arenât keen on. I can make her go away, but you need to trust me.â
He flinches at the word trust , mouth pulling into a snarl.
âYou donât have a choice!â You remind him sharply. âGo ahead and answer the door yourself if you want, but her seeing a strange man in my apartment isnât going to ease her suspicion!â
He huffs, hand pulling from your mouth to ball at his side. The other still tenses threateningly on your neck, even as he realizes heâs been bested by unforeseen circumstance.
â Fine ,â He releases you slowly, questioning his decision even as he does it. âBut I'm listening. And if you so much as hintâ â
âI won't!â You rub at your sore throat, voice croaking. â Now give me that robe! Inside the bathroom door.â
He seems perplexed, but does so, throwing it carelessly over and watching intently as you pull it over your shoulders and cover your freshly bruising neck and bubbling bloodwork smeared over your chest.
âJustâ Just stay here! Donât move! And donât let her see you!â
You unlock the padlock to the door, just noticing the damage now from where Tomura must have forced his way in earlier. Great. No way in hell youâre getting your security deposit back now. A flustered Lisa stands outside the doorway, cellphone in hand, smelling of stale and acrid cigarette smoke.
âHey! Heyâ sorry,â You offer her your best â I swear nothing is wrongâ smile. âI was a bit tied up.â
âIâ Jesus, girl. Are you okay? There's been one hell of a ruckus coming from up here. You're bleedingââ Her eyes settle on your temple where youâre certain a dribble of blood is matting in your hair.
âCâ Closet shelf fell on me when I was changing out of my work clothes,â you smile, wiping your hair out of your face. âI knew I shouldn't have put it up myself. Came crashing right down on me. Broke all my stuff right on my head.â
âMy God, thatâs horrible! I knew I should have told the superintendent to do his damn job and come up and help. Do you need an ambulance? Here, I'll callââ
âNo!â You almost snatch at her phone, panic rising as you can practically hear Tomura gearing up. âNo! Really, I'm okay. Just a bit of ice and a few bandages and I'll be fine. It looks worse than it is.â
She gives you a skeptical look, trying to peek into your apartment in a less-than-inconspicuous manner.
âHonest. I'm fine! Just a bit of a shock, is all. Scared the hell out of me, but I'm fine. Iâll fix it later. Iâm just exhausted, is all. I want a nice bath and some sleep.â
âIââ
âIf it's bad, I'll get it looked at,â You insist, unsure if youâre more desperate for her to stay or to leave. With the threat of the malevolent creature perched in your hallway, ready to pounce at a momentâs notice, you decide itâs the latter.
âI don't have insurance, Lis. The cafĂ© canât afford it. You know I can't go to a hospital. It'll put me in the poor house. I can barely afford anything as it is, leave alone medical bills.â
It's a dirty card to play, but it's honest, and more importantly, it works. She pauses, shoulders falling in defeat after a moment as shakes her head, slipping her phone back into her pocket. âDamn shame, the state of things. Ridiculous.â
âYeah,â you force a rough laugh, trying to appear calm and composed even through your rabbiting heart. âI'll take it easy. I'm going to lie down. Itâs not that bad. It just looks that way.â
âAlright, honey. You know to call if you need anything, right?â
âI do. Thank you, Lisa. Really.â
You mean it sincerely. Her interference probably saved your life⊠for now.
âDo you want me to stop by tomorrow? Help you clean up?â
âIâll let you know. Iâll give you a call either way and let you know everything is alright.â
âYou better,â She pokes at your chest with an orange acrylic. âDonât go scarinâ me like that.â
âSorry again. Iâll talk to you tomorrow.â
Reluctantly, she turns, offering you one last look. This wonât be the last you hear of this, but youâll have to deal with that later. You have a bigger issue to deal with now.
But you think you have just the idea how to.
#Come down to the Black Sea#Part VII#Tomura Shigaraki x Reader#Tomura Shigaraki x you#Siren!Tomura#Yeeeeeah sorry it's been uhh years lmao#Idk why I posted this on a bloody holiday when no one is going to see it lmao
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EYES DONâT LIE â iii. a worthy competitor.
synopsis. you've always resented jeong yunho, and you were positive that the end of high school would've marked the end of your rivalry and hatred. yet now you find yourself in the same crappy hotel as him. assigned to be right next to each other much like the good old times.
pairing. jeong yunho x fem! reader. genre. mini-series, fluff, slice of life, mature, academic rivals to lovers, non-idol au. chapter warnings. swearing.
word count. 2.1k. rating. pg-13
chapter ii. chapter iii. chapter iv.
yunhoâs life post high school was blissful, to say the least.
he went to his dream university and just like you graduated as the top student of that year. not long after that he landed a job at a relatively large tech company and after promotion upon promotion, he became the multi-billion-won companyâs CTO. He lived lavishly; a shining example of what he was able to achieve thanks to his determination and unwavering passion.
at least until all of that came crashing down.
because the CEO just had to get involved in activities that became the downfall of the company. unbeknownst to him, the CEO had been part of an underground piracy organisation and sold the private information of millions of users to malicious parties. when the news got to the police, well⊠it was chaos. law enforcement swarmed the headquarters to detain the CEO as well as anyone that was identified on the list of people involved. a mess that he had no part of.
in hindsight, yunho should be carrying more than the company card and a suitcase when traveling for business trips, during which all this news got out. but how was he supposed to know heâd go from a highly respected worker to jobless in a matter of 24 hours?
and so he found himself in a shitty hotel, paying with the few bills he could find after rummaging around in his bag. the company card declined when he tried booking a different hotelâthe fancy one the company had paid for forced him to leave after they found out he was affiliated with that company. for obvious reasons, he had been confused until he checked his phone for the first time that day and found hundreds of notifications flooding the lock screen that depicted picture of him and his best friend.
speaking of his best friend.
as soon as got into his his temporary bedroomâaka the hotel room that smelled so odd he opened the window as wide as he could and stuck his head out to avoid the stenchâhe called the man heâs known since they were toddlers, ranting about the situation. unsurprisingly, he found the situation immensely funny.
âso youâre poor now?â
âno, mingi, i just donât have my personal card. iâll go withdraw money tomorrow morning.â yunho propped his camera up on the small desk opposite the bed, leaning back in the creaking wooden chair as he rubbed at his temples, dreading the oncoming headache he was starting to feel. âbut iâm jobless, for now.â
mingi pursed his lips, nose scrunching as he looked at his phone screen, watching how distressed yunho looked. âhow can i help you, then?â
a shrug was the first response he got. âjust-â the rotating chair squeaked as yunho leaned a bit further to stare up at the ceiling for a moment before reverting his gaze back to his phone. âjust talk to me about something else, distract me for now.â
âokay then,â the fake blondâs face brightened and a wide grin spread across his face as he sat up and leaned closer. âso, you know my boss hongjoong, right?â
and so the next ten minutes were filled with him gossiping about how his boss seemed to have the hots for a cute reporter. yunho listened, grateful to get his mind off his current predicament, but barely registered any words being said. he occasionally replied with agreeing hums or other reactions suitable for the context, but he couldnât help but feel the tell tale signs of his body wanting to rest. mingi seemed to catch on as he paused his story and squinted at his phone screen, catching the way his best friendâs eyes drooped with fatigue.
âhello? earth to yunho?â
he stirred awake, snorting in a breath before yawning. he checked the time on his very expensive watch briefly before his eyes flickered back up to mingi.
âyou look tired, man,â worry was written all over his face, sure he could already see dark circles forming under yunhoâs eyes. âget some rest.â
âyeah⊠yeah, thatâs a good idea.â yunho spoke through his yawn, hand covering his open mouth.
they said their goodbyes and ended the call. yunho sat in silence for a moment. he turned the chair, inspecting the bed. it was sad, small and pretty empty. wishing he was back home on his soft king sized bed, he poked the mattress, frowning at the firmness before pulling back and looking at the pillows. well, pillow. singular. while the mattress felt to stiff, the pillow the opposite. he got up to check the little closet for another pillow that he could stack on top to add some firmness, but to no avail.
after a moment of hesitation, he decided to ask the guy at the lobby if he could possibly have an extra pillow. before head for the door, he stopped in the bathroom, checking his teeth and brushing his hand through his dark hair, a little overgrown and resembling a mullet. he fixed the tie of his suit that he had yet to take off and left the bathroom, his hand wrapping around the door handle of the room and pulling it open.
as he stepped out, his temporary neighbour seemed to have just arrived. turning to greet the stranger, he stopped in his tracks just as she had.
what a perfect end to his day. the cherry on top, really.
truthfully, he hadnât given you much thought after your high school graduation. (he actually did. a friend of his went to the same university as you and heâd occasionally ask him if he knew how you were doing). but seeing you now, he realised you hadnât changed much. of course, you seemed to have a grown a tiny bit and you looked more mature, but those eyesâthose soft eyes, so pretty, red and puffy through your tearsâwere undeniably yours. he recognised you before he recognised the state you were in, a sobbing mess. in all the years he had known you, he doesnât recall ever seeing you cry. seeing you like this, with flushed and tear stained cheeks, made his head spin for a moment.
before he could open his mouth to say anything, you were gone. he watched the door of your room fall shut, followed by a thud from inside the room. what it may have beenâa kick to the wall, a punch, an item thrown across the roomâhe wouldnât have been able to tell as he stared at the door dumbly. he wasnât sure how long he stood there, but what else was he supposed to do when he ran into you of all people in this obscure hotel and somehow ended up next to each other?
watching you disappear through that door reminded him too much of the last time he saw you.
though it had been a warm summer, it rained on the last day of school. having checked the weather, he brought an umbrella with him. but as he watched you stand front of the entrance of the school, alone and looking out into the rain without a jacket, let alone an umbrella, with a conflicted frown and nothing to protect you from the rain but the roof, he found himself caring about you. before he realised it, he stood in front of you, holding out his black umbrella and consequently getting a little wet.
you couldnât help but stare at him, your gaze switching between his unusually sincere face and hand extending the red handle of the umbrella. you shook your head, insisting that you wonât take it, but he cut you off.
âcome on, itâs just an umbrella, i have no problem walking home in the rain.â
âno, please, yunho, itâs your umbrella, iâll figure something out. youâll get sick.â
after some more back and forth, he offered a compromise. you could walk home together.
and thatâs exactly what the two of you did. you walked side by side, squeezed together under the umbrella, droplets of rain occasionally hitting your right shoulder or his left shoulder. despite the weather, it was oddly peaceful. a steady conversation flowed between the two of you, free of any teasing or insults. you werenât quite sure why he was being so nice, but you supposed it was the last youâd see each other before heading separate ways.
unfortunately, the two of you thought at the time, you lived in the same apartment building. while you lived on the third floor, he was up on the fifth. he decided it only made sense to walk you to your place first. unlike your walk outside, the short journey from the elevator to your front door was dead silent. even when you got to the front door, neither of you spoke for a moment until he cleared his throat, his voice almost⊠emotional?
âi guess this is it, huh?â
âyeah⊠i guess⊠have fun finding a better, funnier, smarter rival in college.â
ânah, i donât think iâll even bother.â
âhm? really? i thought youâre all about that competition.â
âyeah, but youâre the only person worth competing with.â
heâd never forget the way your eyes widened comically as you looked at him after that, a blush so faint it was easy to miss in this horrible lighting. maybe all the people saying youâd make a good couple were on to something. still, he knew youâd never see each other again, there was no point in trying anything. his cell phone rang, interrupting the tense silence. it was his mother, telling him to hurry and get home.
âi⊠uh, i have to go⊠but iâll see you around, someday?â
you smiled, a smile so genuine his stomach did a cartwheel.
âiâll see you around, someday.â
you stared at each other for a moment, stood across from each other in the hallway. he wasnât sure what to do. should he hug you? should he just turn and leave? you seemed just as conflicted. after a long minute, you both extended your hands for a handshake at the same time. a small laugh was shared as your hands intertwined in a slow handshake, holding onto each other a few moments too long. his thumb rubbed over the back of your hand gently. he gave it a small squeeze before letting go and bowing his head, winking playfully.
âgood luck out there, y/n.â
âlikewise, yunho.â
and with the you disappeared through the front door, much like you had moments ago. though at that time you didnât look so heartbroken. eventually he got himself to put one foot in front of the other and head to the lobby for his original mission.
he thanked the lobby man quietly as he was handed two more pillows, his mind still occupied with you. youâd think that whatever he felt for you on that last day wouldâve dissipated by now, but that was quite the opposite. despite it having been so many years, seeing you again felt like a punch to his throat.
on his way back to his room, he thought about knocking on your door for a split second. in the end, he concluded you probably wouldnât want to talk to him. he wasnât sure what he wouldâve said anyway. hey, itâs really nice seeing you again, by the way did i mention that iâve realised i had a massive crush on you that time we said goodbye and those feelings havenât gone away?
no, absolutely fucking not.
he nearly slapped himself at the hypothetical monologue, dragging himself to his hotel room. a soft thump resounded as he tossed the pillows on his bed before undressing and getting under the thin covers. the time it took for him to fall asleep was unclear as he stared up at the ceiling. whoever rented the room above him seemed to want to make a joke in the ground, thundering stomps making the ceiling and his open window shake.
had he not stepped out at that time to get pillow and bumped into you, he wouldâve probably been cursing and swearing to himself to get out of this place first thing in the morning. but, considering who his current neighbour was, he couldnât help but thinkâŠ
would one or two more days really be so bad?
[ lilo's notes . . . ] hii sorry it took so long to update this, i hope this makes up for it đđ we finally get a little gimped into yunhoâs feelings!! yippee!! iâm sorry he comes off as a little stuck up near the beginning, but please understand he went from a luxurious suite to a hotel on the brink of falling apart; i think most people would be a little disappointed đđ heâs not a bad guy i promise
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I love the way you drew little Sabo. So cute. Precious little gremlin child.
But I must ask a bit of angst question.
How did Croc react to Sabo explaining what his bio parents were like? I can see both Croc and Dragon reacting badly to how Sabo was treated in the past.
:D â„
Sabo would stick to the story that he gave Ace - that he's an orphan who was living alone in the Grey Terminal. Since they're both still young kids Ace instantly buys that story.
Dragon on the other hand has questions. He knows Goa well enough to be able to tell that his clothes and his way of speaking hint towards a noble upbringing. And even if he is orphaned, he wouldn't have been cast out into the Grey Terminal.
And Outlook III and Didit certainly went to the police when their kid went missing. It's likely that he gets his hands on the police report or at least a note in the newspaper. But he might not approach Sabo about it and wait for Crocodile to come home to talk about it.
Because taking in a missing noble child has the potential to be dangerous for them, they don't need police to come sniffing around Windmill Village.
But when Sabo actually tells them why he ran away and why he can't go back, they probably decide it's worth the risk. (Especially Dragon. He's going to be furious at this child being caged like that by this rotten system. Crocodile probably has to grab his hair to stop him from setting a fire in the upper class district or something other impulsive and unwise of the sort *lol* )
It's a bit tricky. Also because how I'm wrangling the timeline, Sabo is quite a bit too young to really be able to verbalize the emotional neglect and the isolation and how much his parents consider him a tool to be wielded for their ambitions of social advancement. But I think Dragon would understand it for what it is.
It would be easier if neither Crocodile nor Dragon bothered to do any research on the kid but I don't want to make them careless for convenience's sake X3
And we can still pack more angst into it when the burning of the Grey Terminal and he visit of the Celestial Dragon happens 5 years later.
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