#Then I have the version where one socket is blacked out and one eye is lit. Though it doesn't flicker like the in game version but instead

[writingbynova]

The Party ★

★ & The After Party

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 ⊹ : pwp (porn with plot) - mdni - frat boys au - gojo & geto x nerd!fem!reader - party - bff drags u there - tiny mention of substances but no use - mean geto - protected sex - degrading - pet names - geto calls you: sugar/ doll & Gojo calls you: sweetie/ princess/ baby - rough sex - biting - overstimulation - threesome - slight choking/ breath play - hits of dacryphilia - missionary - Doggystyle - face fucking - praising - oral(m & f receiving) - mind breaking - dirty talk - fingering - getting caught (through the phone) - lmk if I missed any tags...

Word count : 3.6k

A/N : sorry js felt horny ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ (should have added toys but I'm sleepy) wrote this while listening the the party & the after party, shameless, often, I was never there, & coming down.

Majoring in Biology but never got fucked by two frat boys at a party ? Guess you didn't listen during the chapter of reproduction... Let's teach you some tricks shall we ?

"Going where? A party ??" you asked your eyes almost gouging out of their socket "Id love to but i don't think I can... And I wasn't invited. I have homework anyway it's better I stay and study"

You friend stands in front of your mirror, putting dresses up to her body to determine which one suites her best. They all do.

"Yeah whatever, good thing I wasn't asking you to come. I'm telling you. Get dressed, Yuji is picking us up in 30 mins. " She says leaving you alone in the room.

Frat boy's parties weren't really your thing. Although you couldn't judge because you had never been to a party, you always focussed on your studies. Hence why you didn't even know where you were heading to. Nonetheless you headed to the bathroom to shower and get ready.

"You done ?!" You heard your friend scream from another room, while you applied some mascara. "You better be when I get there !!"

You sighed. You really didn't feel extremely comfortable going. You didn't know anyone except your bestie who was basically your polar opposite. Outgoing, friends and... Well 'closer' with the popular boys. While you were the awkward nerd who didn't know anyone and never interacted with XY chromosomes possessors. Majoring in Biology.

Your friends barged into your room just as you expected and you stood anxiously before her.

"Where you going?" She asked judging you up and down. "Uh.. you said a party" you muttered, this situation really wasn't your daily life. "No, I mean where are you going dressed like a Spanish teacher, you look a damn mess girl." So that's the matter. "Oh...it's that bad ?" "That bad ? You look like you got dressed in the dark"

Pink skirt and a purple top make a cute combo tho ? Don't they? Okay, maybe not then.

"You were seriously about to walk out dressed like a 6 year old girl? And where's your makeup ?" Truthfully she was being dramatic. "I don't wear makeup and I've never seen a 6 year old dressed like this" you clapped back "Only means they dress better than you." Ouch. Touché " We've got about 10 minutes to salvage this before Yuji shows up, go get my makeup bag and the black leader dress on my bed. Quick." You nearly ran out the room. Visibly the night would be hard.

"Are you sure this is okay ? I think I look kind of weird and these lashes are sooo long I've never had them this long."

"You look like a piece a cheesecake. I'd take a bite out of that ass right this second if Yuji wasn't waiting for us" she laughs. You chuckle at her antics. As funny as she is you can't help but feel self conscious at the idea of walking out dressed like this. A black leader strapless dress, barely covering your ass. Black high heels in which you barely felt stable. A full face of makeup adorning your face you looked like a mini version of her. Hot as a motherfucker though.

"Let's head down girl?" She says, peaking through the door. Handing you a little YSL bag with a gold strap.

"Yes, be there in a second I just need to find my glasses..." You said, patting your desk in search of your square correction glasses. "Please tell me you're not planning on wearing those windshields..." She criticizes. "I need to wear them, I can barely see without them." "You're lying !! You haven't been wearing them since and you're fine let's go." She said grabbing your wrists and dragging you out. Fuck.

A pink haired boy gestures at you two before opening the car door for you two. 'Such a nice boy' you think. Thanking him and sitting next to your friend in the car. She makes small talk with him and you get to know he's one in a few classes of hers and friends with the party organizers.

"Gojo and Geto, hottest boys alive. The party is at Gojo's house he's some rich kid you must have seen him at least once." You look over at the picture. A tall boy with white hair and sky blue eyes leaning on a tall boy with black long hair and purple eyes. They're cute you can't lie. You have seen him around, he plays basketball and girls from what you heard. "They look nice" you only say. Because what else is there to be said. This is just two campus boys organizing a big party. Nothing special, you've never experienced one but now it doesn't seem like anything special

"I won't tell you what I think. Make up your own opinion were here" she says gesturing for you to open the door on your side. Suddenly it does seem like something special and the knot ties in your stomach, you start wobbling on your heels. Still your friends drags you to the door with a "you'll be okay" that does not reassure you in the slightest. A boy open the door. Pink hair. "I though Yuji wasn't coming in until later ?" You whisper in her ear "that's not Yuji it's Sukuna his twin." Yeah makes sense. He lets you both ente the house and you're hit with the smell of sex, probably some weed and sweat.

Your friend drags you over to her group of friend and they start chatting, before moving over to take shots. You on the other hand stay aside, props for not drinking but you do feel excluded. You need to isolate, Candy by Doja Cart banging within your head, it's too crowded. "Where's the bathroom" you scream over the music. Your friend points up the stairs. Without thinking you rush up the stairs, it's already better. The floor is already much more empty.  What wasn't smart was not asking which door was the bathroom door. They were all white. Which one was it ?

Anyway. You didn't really need to go to the bathroom you just needed some alone time. And which the popular music playing downstairs you were soon the only one left sitting on the hallway carpet in some corner. Clearing your calendar and doing some homework on your phone. You should have taken your earphones with you. "Need some help princess?" A voice asks. You lift your head to be met with the white haired boy leaning over you, his big eyes staring at yours. So that's why she said they were the hottest boys alive...

The black haired boy sighed "is she even sober ? How many times have we told these randoms to stay off the top floor" he hisses staring you down. "Oh I'm very sorry, I didn't know and I was looking for somewhere private..and I'm not drunk, I don't drink" you say almost muttering. This is not the best encounter you ever went through, it looked like the white haired boy was intrigued but the black haired boy very obviously didn't like you. "Coming to a frat party to stay alone and not drink. Do you even know us ?" The black haired boy asks. Shit. That's true what's their name again? "Uhhh" you point at the white haired boy" Joe—go ? Jogo? And Toge? No! uhhh Geto is it ?" They both stare at you blankly before bursting out in laughter "she called you Jogo, you'll never hear the end of it" Geto? Laughs, mocking the white haired boy who's face in now red.. "Sorry was that not it ? I apologize if I said something offensive " you retract "it's okay" he offers you a hand. "I'm Geto, you got that right, and he's Gojo, not Jogo" he chuckles looking over at his friend. You take his hand lifing yourself of the ground and stepping in a much clearer light.

"Damn, ya look good" Gojo says, starring you down. They probably couldn't see you properly because corned you were in. "You actually do" Geto adds smirking at you. "How About we show you around ?"

Well they're much more welcoming now.

You can feel your face burning. Like melting off. As you walk down the corridor. You're sandwiches between a total of six ab rows. Scarily hot. Gojo's hand holds your hip, while Geto's holding your hand. "So... What do u major in ?" He asks. You're hardly able to think, the tension is so obvious. "Uhh.. bio" you say as the white haired boy unlocking a door to a room? "What are we doing here ?" You ask starting to feel anxious. Two frat boys taking you in some room sounds weird. It was pretty though, a balcony from which you could see over a good part of the city, a huge bed with silk red sheets and a plain blanket, a nightstand, a desk. And some led lights shining a pretty pink.

"Who's room is this?" You ask. Looking around. "Mine, if you looking to chill you're free to come here" he says closing the door, locking it and standing behind you, his hand on your waist. Letting the white haired boy come into view. He holds your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. They probably could tell your heart was beating at a thousand mile per hour, you tried avoiding his gaze, though he was dangerously close to your face, to your lips to be precise. "You're so soft" he says "and you smell so nice" Geto adds, his face buried in to crook of your neck.

"A-ah thank you" you stutter. You can very distinctively feel Geto's cock pressing up against you dress, which is too short by the way, entirely too short. Gojo starts lining kisses on your jaw, until his face is met with yours again, his eyes focusing on your lips, he grazes his thumb upon them. "Can I ?" He says looking you in the eyes. He wants to kiss you ? This rich ass frat boy want to kiss you ? Fuck.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out, so you nod mindlessly. He leans in "just relax" his lips meet yours and the feeling in euphoric, he's crazy skilled, it feels like bliss pure bliss, you taste a minty hint on his lips before his tongue slides into your mouth. Chasing after yours "mmhf!" You whine feeling Geto behind you, trailing bite marks all over your neck. "What'd you say sugar ?" He says coily, watching you avoid the question. Thing is you don't stand a chance before them. When's the last time you've had sex ? A year and a half ? Maybe two? And now you two guys slowly hiking up you dress. "Listen here sugar. How about we make you feel realll nice? You seem so pent up..." He says against your skin. Kissing the spots he previously bit. "Ah uh I don't really kno-"you start saying, interrupted. "oh won't you look at that ? So horny she got her panties and my pants wet! We should take care of that" Gojo says shining a runway worthy smile. Shit. You knew you were kinda wet, who wouldn't be, squeezed in between these two boys, ready to ruin you while the biggest party on campus was going down a few feets below. Before you're able to speak Geto offers you a hand "Let's play sugar. You can only win here." The offer was tempting so tempting you took his hand, blushing at Gojo's cheers behind you.

"Talk to us. What do you want sugar ?" Purple eyes grazing upon your almost naked body. It didn't take Gojo much time to slide your dress off you, leaving you in your black laced matching underwear set. Good thing you were wearing that one. "Focus" he ordered. You were laying back on his chest, while he was playing with you bra's clasps. Focus. Focus? Right he asked a question. "I uh... I- don't know.." you muttered, eyes fixed on the white haired boy kissing your pussy through your panties. Having you throb like crazy..

"Mhm a virgin maybe?" He said, studying your look. "No! No.. I have had sex in the past I just.. you know..."

"No we dont. Use your words sugar. 'fore I take them away" he warns. "You're making her wet! Such a needy thing." Gojo adds, taking a break from teasing your pussy though your panties. "When's the last time you got ate?" He asks training his finger up and down your soaked undies. What? How was that relevant ? "I had lunch if that matters ?" It's the way his eyes go wide that makes you wonder what the fuck you just said. "You've never gotten ate before ?Oh I have to be your first" he said shifting behind you to get up. The white haired boy reluctantly move but before he whispered something to Geto that makes him lightly chuckle and say "okay okay"

His face stills between you thighs, you're mesmerizing by his beauty and assurance. The tensions is building up in your stomach "just trust me and relax". You simply nod, trying to put your focus away. Gojo's laying next to you. Kissing your chest, his hand wrapped around you, slowly u doing your bra. "Oh fuck..." He says, flinging the fabric at some end of the room before latching on your nipples. "Ah!" You yelp, feeling his hot tongue rolling over your bud. You close your eyes, too busy relishing in the feeling to bother realizing Geto's sliding off you panties and spreading you thighs far apart. You jolt and moan loudly when he licks a long strip from your pussy to your clit. "Ya like it uh ?" Gojo teases, finally letting your boob free, with a satisfying "pop!". You nod frantically, whatever he's doing he's great at it. So great you start lowly moaning for more. Trying to cover your pathetic whines with your hand "Go on tell him you feel good" Gojo says encouraging you to speak. Your eyes drift over to Geto, teasing your hole with his fingers and sucking your clit. "Ahh... I- I like it, it- ah! Feels nice..." You whine, felling your face heat up.

Geto's eyes stare into yours, and you can feel him smiling against you. "Good girl, see, wasn't so hard" Gojo says, making you return your attention to him. He lands a soft kiss against your lips, not letting you pull away. And you're moaning into the kiss, your chest hovering up and down the faint sound of 'Coming down' by the Weeknd playing downstairs, Geto's fingers stretching your walls open while he licks you down. The squelching sound and feeling sending butterflies to your lower belly. You eventually pull away from Gojo, out of breath. Your legs shuddering, your moans growing louder and louder. "Hmm! 'm cumming! Fuck fuck fuck fuck!" You mewl throwing you head back into the pillows. Your body jolting up at each additional suction he makes. He trails kisses up your body, upon your navel, between your breasts, up your neck before settling for your lips. You whine when he pulls away from your dripping cunt Making you crave attention. "What was that sugar ?" He asks caressing your heated cheek. "Felt nice...so nice...wan' more" you shamelessly admit, while still recovering from your high. "Say no more" Gojo says standing between your thighs in an instant.

Fuck it's big. Fucking huge, fully erect. Precum leaking from the tip, veins, lining its girth. "Satoru. Wrap it" Geto says. "Oh yeah" Your eye candy leave and starts searching through the bedside table, taking out a box of condoms. XXL. "Satoru?" You mutter. "Gojo's his last name. Satoru's what close friends and... Special people like you can call him" Geto answers. You nod thoughtfully "is Geto your last name too?" You wonder. "Yeah, but you're gonna have to earn calling me by my name sugar. Be patient you'll get there eventually" . Your cheeks heat at his words, you're being way to confortable for someone who's sprawled out on a bed she's never seen with two men she just met at a party. "Eyes up here sweetie, swallow it all" against your will your eyes drift from Geto's pretty eyes and land on Gojo's- no, Satoru's dick. Fuck are you really about to take all that. Your ex boyfriend was much smaller and frailer that this. "Don't worry darling you can take it" Geto whispers behind your ear, his voice sending butterflies to your stomach.

Satoru's cock nudges your hole, and he slowly pushed his tip in, stealing the words from your mouth, the more he pushed in the more you're feeling hot all over. "Fuck, love me some good tight pussy, you're perfect sweetie" he groans. "So fucking tight s' making me crazy" you whimper at his words, holding for dear life onto Geto's bulky arm. "Ah- are you in?" You babble, feeling your cunt throb around his girth. "Yeah...'bout halfway" he said gathering spit on his thumb and rubbing it messily over your clit. You moan loudly "Arh- shit! S-satoruu!"

His eyes ignore yours and perk up to his mate instead. It happens withing a fraction of a second: Satoru makes head movement. Tilting his head to the right. Geto pins your hands down and before you even have the right to wonder what exactly is happenings his lips crash against yours, his tongue poisoning your senses. *Thrust* your eyes open with, a thunder sensation runs up your spine before your stomach starts burning and you pussy raining. Your eyes roll back and fill with salty water, while you whine, whimper and mewl breathlessly into the kiss. Your pussy fluttering around his girthy cock.

Geto finally lets go of your lips, a string of saliva connecting both of you. Again you're mesmerized by his purple eyes. Until another thrust punches through you. Making your eyes close shut. You gather up strength to get on your elbow. "Satoru! Satoruuu" you whine and purr. "Feeeels too good, wanna cum 'gain" you pout feeling your brain disconnect. It's all you can think about right now. His thick cock stuffing you full, occupying you, fucking the breath in and out of you. "Anything for this thigh ass pussy don't mind be breaking you" he says. His hand grabs your hips but he doesn't thrust anymore, no. He drags your body over and over again on his cock, grunting over your high pitched moans. Fuck his dick was good. Good as fuck it got you screaming shamelessly. "Fuck i'd drown in this pussy anyway sweetie! Fucking tight!" He grunted switching to rutting his hips into onto your ass.

You couldn't be more grateful for the loud music playing downstairs, you had to thank Megan thee Stallion for covering the lewd pornographic sounds you both were making. Your pussy clammed him down, throbbing relentlessly around him. "Go on baby cum some more on my cock" he purred, watching your eyes flutter and chest hover up and down. His hips slam into yours exactly two more times to send you over the edge. Two thrust stretching your pussy to its maximum entent. Your voice rang against the room's walls " 'toru! 'toru! Cumming!" You cry, unfolding on him, a white sticky substance now covering the condom he wore. Inside and out, he grunts and moans over you "Mhm! fucking milking me out huh ?" He pulls out, letting the euphoric feeling wash over you.

You feel silly, so silly you want more, you miss his cock, you want more so much more. Your eyes wander off to Geto, who's eyes are fixated upon the lower part of your body. "How d'you feel doll?" He asks, his arms wrapping around your back to lift you up on your knees. Your teary eyes land back on his, how you missed them. His soft concerned look. "Arh- I wan' more" you're basically just giving out your ability to walk. That's probably not the best of ideas.

He chuckles lightly, " if that's what you wish...turn around sugar." Fuck it you can't get enough. You lay on the bed facing it's end, you can't know for sure but by the sound of it  he'd putting on a condom. In the meantime you gawk at the sight of Satoru pumping his ,now, hard again, cock right in front of your face, you're on the verge of reaching over, drooling and all when you feel Geto's pressing your back into the mattress, locking both your wrists with his one hand.

You whine at the loss of your eye candy. But soon totally forget about it, well maybe not totally but there's another dick on your mind in the moment. He slips in with less effort than Satoru had to use. Still his girth is spreading you apart. "Fuckkkk, so tight, just like that squeeze me good sugar" he grunts, fucking you into the mattress. You're blabbing and whimpering pathetically and he pull you up, with a hand on your lower back making you arch, thrusting into you like a maniac, making your ass bounce repeatedly, "Fuck, so fucking good sugar, 'm never letting you go. Stay like this." He orders through his ragged breathing. His hand slides up front and you know, his fingers attack your clit, you accidentally lean forward. Only slightly but it's enough to have his cock fucking you in all the right spots, "Ah! Geto! F-fuckkkkk s'deep soo— deep!" You coo and mewl, it's barely descriptible, like the tip of his cock was stuffed so deep in you, so fucking far you wondered if it was actually hitting your cervix. Where was all that biology knowledge? "Ah- fffuck I know, I know sugar" He's dragging his cock so far up your cunt, thrusting so hard it vibrated within your entire core.

Your eyes brim with tears. You're barely coherent in your thoughts and words. "Ahh! Geto! Geto! Geto— Mmph!!" You cry out, trying to get his attention. His cock thrusting deeper and deeper at a mind breaking pace. "S-satoruu! Tell him to be n-nice puh- please" you beg tugging on the boy's arm. "Calling out his name while I'm fucking you ? What a slut. Open your mouth." You might have been getting fucked stupid you knew not to ignore his orders. Your lips parted, offering the perfect opening for Satoru to thrust his aching cock into "Repeat after me slut, Su-gu-ru". Fuck you try, try to think and act. Act quick. Satoru's cock filling your mouth, deepthroating you, till you're gagging and choking. Suguru fucking your slick pussy like there's no tomorrow. "Shu guwu mhm!" You whine around Gojo cock, using your tongue to play around his shaft. Making him grunt your name. Youre slowly losing your mind.

A faint ringing sound in the background, not enough to get your attention but enough to attract theirs. You only realize when the white haired boy walk off in direction of the noise, leaving you mouth hanging empty. He returns and points a phone in your face and it takes a few seconds for you to collect your thoughts and read. Fuck, Fuck it's your friend but fuck it feels good

"mhm ? Pick it up" Suguru whines behind you. Roughly slamming his hip into you. "Huh nah! Fuck!" You're done for. The white haired boy display a mischievous smile before tapping the green pick up icon. "Girl ??! Where are you ??" You hear ringing through the phone. You stay quiet. As best as you can pleading Satoru with your eyes. 'Please hang up' you think but he only smiles and plants a kiss on your lips. "Hellooo ???" Your friend says. Suguru's hand wraps around your neck pulling you up close to him. "Speak" your eyes roll back. You're so fucking close. Shit. The boy in front of you kneels on the edge of the bed before his hand slide down between your legs starting to toy with your bud, circling and pressing his thumb over the bud. "Fucking speak" he orders. To think you had called them nice boys few hours ago. You wrap your arms over Satoru's shoulders for support when Suguru's hand leaves your neck to pinch your nipple. "

"Sugu! Sugu! Suguru! Ah! F-fuckkkkk Suguru you're the best! Y-yes the b-best" you cry out. Your orgasm winding you out. Fat tears sliding down your face. Huda beauty setting power and Charlotte tilbury meeting spray might be very good at keeping makeup intact, it was powerless face with this much face fucking, kissing and overall destroying.

Forgetting the jealous man in front of you watching you get fucked like he disappeared. Satoru grabs ahold of jaw. Using his finger to tap on your cheek. "The best huh ? Open that cock sleeve of a mouth for me, slut." Shit. "ahh I'll call you l-later 'm busy" you say as normally as you could. It's not like you just came on the phone. *Bip* He hangs up. And now it just the three of you again.

"Ahh!! I'm sowwy— Ngh!" You cry out. Another spank hitting your already sore ass. Suguru's spanking you like a mad man making you huff and hiccup relentlessly. You can't tell how you feel, the line between pain and pleasure being blurred. "How many times did we have to fucking tell you before you spoke ? Slut" Satoru gripping your hair to shove himself deeper down your throat. Fuck

It's Suguru first. His thrust turn erratic and he's groaning so much. "My pussy to fuck, Mine, 'gon f-fuck you today, tomorrow and every-fucking-day" he grunts, shoving himself  into you one more time, before his long strings of cum are stopped by his condom and he bottoms out. Still he's not done. While you're too focused on giving your best head in stock to Satoru he takes off his condom and throws it away. He lays between you legs, his arms wrapping around your thighs to make you sit on his face and again he's licking long strips of your cum, soiling his chin. Making you whine out of surprise around Satoru's dick, sending shivers down his spine and a cum load down your throat.

"F-fuck it sweetie, don't swallow yet, let me see all'at" you're mewling and brainlessly lagging in your actions, involuntarily riding Suguru's face your tongue lolling out, white sticky strings adorning your mouth. "So good!! Mhm ahhh!! " You moan. And *click!* A nice pic of the three of you having fun added to your photo gallery. You're to busy cumming hard on Suguru's tongue to care. You stretch your arm to Satoru, sticking your tongue out and it's barely a second before he's holding your chin "Swallow it." And like clockwork you do. And using that same clock your thighs shudder around Suguru's face, your toes are curling and you're making the lewdest face at Satoru, sending the blood straight to his dick. "My turn sweetie"

Visibly you were right when you said the night would be hard.

PREVIOUS POST ~~ NAVIGATION ~~ NEXT POST

[peachdues]

Phantasmagoria (Part III)

Tell Me to Stop (Sanemi’s Version)

Sanemi x F!Reader • Modern AU • NSFW

A/N: read the fucking warnings before you report.

Massive TW: grief • loss of a parent • canon character death • drug and alcohol abuse • panic • references to previous attempted S/A • violence between characters • more descriptions of Douma getting his ass kicked (still deserved) • situation requiring a hospital

CW: 25k words. MDNI. explicit sexual content ahead • multiple creampies • oral (f! and m!receiving) • face sitting • swearing • angst with a good ending • non-sexual intimacy

Oh boy. It’s done.

This one is super personal to me, so I really hope you guys enjoy. Thank you for showing this story your love, I adore you all.

Without further ado!

Sanemi’s Playlist

PART ONE • PART TWO

(Sanemi’s POV)

The Party on 52nd Street

Sanemi couldn’t bring himself to say that he regretted how he’d ended up in handcuffs. Sure, his knuckles were bruised to shit and covered in blood that was and was not his, but at least his face was still a hell of a lot prettier than the sniveling, cowardly asshole curled onto his side on the gravel outside his house.

Granted, the severe swelling of Douma’s face was because of Sanemi, but truthfully, he thought it was an improvement. By the time Sanemi had been yanked off of the barely conscious, campus-resident creep, those freakish, multi-colored eyes had been so blackened and swollen, it was a wonder that Douma had even been able to see the cops swarming his living room at all. 

Sanemi knew the only reason his ass wasn’t being thrown into the back of the police cruiser waiting out behind Douma’s hell den was because Tengen had been the one to escort him out. And, because the local police had been itching to bust Douma for his little drug operation for months, Douma had been hauled out as well, handcuffed for good measure (and for insult) by Tengen.

It also helped that Douma was a dumbass, who’d sent the incriminating photos of his assault on Y/N to the groupchat that included all three of Tengen’s partners. Once he was sure they were safely out of view of spectators and witnesses giving statements to the other responding officers inside, Tengen took care to slam the greasy asshole to the ground, getting a few good kicks in as Douma curled pathetically against the asphalt. 

“I will sue your ass,” Douma wheezed as he struggled to catch his breath. Through the purple black swells of his eye sockets, Sanemi could just make out the sliver of jewel-toned irises as they glared in his direction. “The whore fucking wanted it rough.”

Sanemi lunged for the cowering bastard where he lay, ready to stomp the fucker’s face in once and for all, but Tengen roughly threw him back against the side of his cruiser before he could.

“He’s trying to rile you up. Don’t fall for his shit,” Tengen’s magenta eyes were full of warning as he held Sanemi back. “He was stupid enough to send proof of the assault; ain’t no way in hell anyone buys that it was consensual.”

But Sanemi could only see red, the image of Y/N’s tear-streaked and terrified face burned permanently into his brain, worse than any scar that he bore on his skin.

“I don’t give a fuck, it’s working,” Sanemi snarled, struggling against Tengen’s iron-clad grip on him. “I want him fucking dead.”

“Y/N needs you not to be in prison. Don’t you two have something goin’ on?” Tengen shot back hotly. The young cop’s words stilled Sanemi’s struggle against the police cruiser, his fury deflating slightly.

As Kyojuro’s car had jumped the curb in front of the house, both boys agreed to split up once inside the house. Kyojuro was tasked with retrieving Y/N from wherever Akaza had hid her, because Sanemi had viciously vowed that he would be the one dealing with Douma.

And so, he had.

Party attendants had taken one look at Sanemi’s stony face as he’d made his way through the house to the main living room and parted, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire of the violence promised in his eyes.

He’d found Douma, standing back near the speakers that crackled with some out-of-date, heavy bass music, laughing like he hadn’t a care in the world. Those monstrous eyes had met Sanemi’s for only a split second, but the delighted malice they beheld was enough to make Sanemi want nothing more than to make the monster bleed.

Douma’s answering smile had been brief, unable to withstand the smash of his fist as the enraged Sanemi knocked him to the ground and lunged to pin him down.

Kyojuro’s car was long gone by the time Sanemi and Douma had been dragged out of that party house of horrors by Tengen in handcuffs, Sanemi smirking at the way Tengen kicked at the whimpering bastard’s feet every few steps. But that meant that Sanemi had no idea how Y/N was even doing – or whether she’d sustained more serious injuries than what Douma had shown off.

He didn’t want to think about what else might have happened in that room. If he did, Douma would surely not survive the impending ride to the police station.

Sanemi knew, however, that Tengen was right, however much it pissed him off. Y/N was the priority here, not him or his righteous, violent fury. He would restrain himself – for her. Nonetheless, Sanemi felt a rush of gratitude for the young cop, who, despite cautioning Sanemi away from ripping the cretin apart once and for all, spat directly on Douma’s bruised, bleeding face.

Half an hour later, and Sanemi was being escorted by his friend through the familiar sliding doors of the police station. It took only five minutes of him speaking with two other detectives before he was strolling leisurely back out of the station and into the small parking lot with Tengen, who offered to drive him back to his apartment.

All it had taken was for Sanemi to whip out his phone to show them the picture Douma had sent of Y/N around for them to agree that the benefit of letting Sanemi go outweighed the burden of booking him; besides, the baggies of Wisteria they’d found on the famous party-thrower meant they’d caught the larger fish anyways.

If it weren’t for the looming threat that Douma had perhaps inflicted far more harm upon Y/N, Sanemi almost would have felt good striding out of the busy police station, but the fact that she might be with Kyojuro at a hospital somewhere, in need of treatment, sat in his gut like an icy stone, tempered only by the murderous rage he still felt.

In his stewing, Sanemi almost didn’t realize that Tengen was speaking to him.

“Look, I’m not sayin’ I don’t get your reasoning. I do,” Tengen said lowly, pausing near his cruiser to face Sanemi, though his eyes scanned the parking lot to ensure unwanted ears weren’t listening in. “Frankly, if I didn’t have my job to worry about, I woulda let you keep going. He deserved it.”

“But I don’t wanna see you falling back into old habits.” The young cop sighed, clapping Sanemi on the back. “You’ve been doing so well.”

Sanemi grimaced. “I’m not,” he bit out darkly. “This wasn’t about me. It was about her.”

Tengen eyed him incredulously but sighed. “It’d do you good to remember that. You can’t work things out with her if I’m haulin’ your ass to prison.”

Sanemi didn’t have the heart to tell him he’d long since fucked up any chances of working things out with Y/N.

----------

“This is the third time you’ve been brought in this month,” the young cop chastised him, crossing an ankle over his knee as he folded his massive arms across his broad chest. “And we’re only two weeks into December.”

Sanemi grimaced as he shifted in the dingy metal seat, his wrists going numb behind his back as the metal of the handcuffs around his wrists dug into his skin. He scrunched his nose, trying to stifle the drop of blood sliding down from his nostril before it could reach his mouth, though without much success.

He was growing more agitated as he waited on his best friend to come collect him – yet again, from the Ubayashiki police station, but Kyojuro had yet to show.

“Listen – Shinazugawa, is it?” The cop had a peculiar shade of silver hair, and a cursory glance-over by Sanemi revealed that he had an apparent penchant for fuschia eyeliner, an almost perfect match to the hue of the discerning eyes which watched him. “You’re a student at Ubaya-U, right?”

Sanemi only nodded, ducking his head down to avoid holding the officer’s gaze for too long, lest he see how dead the nineteen-year-old truly felt.

“My name’s Uzui – Tengen Uzui -- I graudated last year,” the man called Uzui said, somewhat proudly. “So I know you’re a smart kid, but you can’t keep getting hauled in like this. You’ve got too much goin’ for ya.”

Sanemi finally made a sound. “I got nothin’ going for me,” he scoffed, finally lifting his eyes to meet Uzui’s stern face. “Spare me the ‘you’re better than this,’ crap.”

Uzui only rolled his eyes. “Look, kid, whatever happened to you before you got here, you’ve gotta deal with it – but not like this.” Sanemi opened his mouth to snap back, but the young cop paid him no mind, only continuing his lecture. “I’m not gonna ask, because frankly, I don’t care that much. But I know a good kid when I see one, and I don’t think you want to live this way.”

Uzui sighed. “Surely you’ve got someone in your life you wanna do right by? A parent, or a girl, maybe?”

Sanemi’s already sour mood dampened even further. He was about to bite out that no, he had no one, when Kyojuro finally pushed through the doors of the police station, amber eyes scanning the intake area until they narrowed in on him.

And he looked tired. So goddamn tired, that for once, Sanemi felt something other than the numbness he’d felt slowly swallowing him whole over the last three months.

He felt guilty; he’d forgotten, that while he may not have cared about his own stupid actions affected himself, he did care about how they impacted his best friend. Sanemi’s only friend, really, though that was entirely his own fault.

But Sanemi’s guilt could not stop him from checking back out as Kyojuro walked over and spoke in a hushed voice with Uzui, both tossing concerning glances his direction every few minutes. Before he knew it, Uzui was standing and unlocking the handcuffs from around Sanemi’s wrists, the latter’s shoulders relaxing as his arms were released from behind his back.

“I’m letting you off with a warning, but with a condition” Uzui said simply, tossing the handcuffs back onto his desk. The young cop produced a small, white card from his pocket and pressed it into Sanemi’s hand. “I want you checking in with me every couple of weeks. We can do it here, or wherever you want – but it ain’t optional.” Uzui smiled wryly at the baffled look on Sanemi’s face. “Think of it as an unofficial probation. Until you settle down a bit.”

Uzui parted with a shake of Kyojuro’s hand and a wink at Sanemi before sauntering off down one of the adjacent hallways abutting the intake area, leaving the two boys behind.

Sanemi shoved his sore hands into his pockets, barely noticing the stinging in his bleeding knuckles as they chafed against the fabric of his pants.

“I can’t keep doing this for you, Sanemi,” Kyojuro’s voice said quietly from beside him, and Sanemi’s head snapped over to his friend. “You’re destroying yourself. I can’t just sit by and watch it.”

Deep down, Sanemi knew his friend was right, and he was a little afraid that he risked losing the fiery blonde for good, just as he apparently had lost his other best friend, though, it wasn’t like she’d been around after…after he died.

But if Sanemi lost Kyojuro for good, he’d truly have no one left, and so, he fingered the card that Uzui had given him as it sat in his pocket, and resolved he would try; if not for himself, then for the last person on earth who still gave a shit about him.

-----

 Later, the nineteen-year-old managed to stumble his way back to his dorm and he collapsed in his bed, not bothering to nurse his bleeding nose or even change out of his dirty, rumpled clothes. His knuckles stung and his body ached from the scuffle, but he found that he much preferred the throb of the bruises blooming across his body to the deep numbness he felt in his heart.

As he began to slip into a dreamless slumber, a pair of pretty eyes and a sparkling smile that had once filled him with so much warmth flashed through Sanemi’s mind. If he concentrated hard enough, he thought he could just recall the sound of her laugh, though it had been months since he’d last heard it.

He frowned as he tossed and turned in his bed, desperate to throw out thoughts of her, because she tended to disrupt his sleep and to make him feel even lower than he already knew himself to be.

And he didn’t want to think about what Y/N would say if she could see him now.

Though, Sanemi supposed, that would assume she would give enough of a shit about him to have an opinion on him at all.

He winced at the thought, so callous and bitter. He didn’t truly mean to be so cruel to her, even in his thoughts; he knew she didn’t deserve it. Sanemi knew it was his fault things had gotten as bad as they were between them – knew it was because of his piss-poor reaction to her admittedly badly-timed love confession that had driven her away.

After Genya’s death, Sanemi hadn’t much of a heart left that he could claim, but he’d known that whatever of it remained surely belonged to her, just as he always had. So, he’d tried to reach out after his brother’s funeral, during one of those rare moments of clarity when he wasn’t just existing on autopilot, detached from the world around him, but she’d never responded.

Her silence had been slowly needling him to death by a thousand sharp pricks to what remained of his pitiful heart, threatening to whittle it away entirely.

Sanemi imagined himself a pendulum that couldn’t decide whether he was angrier at himself or at her; forever swinging between his shame for lashing out the way he had at the train station and anger with Y/N for thinking his reaction had anything to do with her at all.

He’d never imagined himself worthy of Y/N – his best friend, so beautiful and intelligent and kind-hearted, even though he’d been so stupidly in love with her since they were small children. He’d always been too rough, too scarred, too…much. But he’d hoped, no matter how foolishly so, that perhaps one day, he’d work himself up to being worthy of her, be the reason she smiled and laughed and loved.

But, as Sanemi felt his stomach squeeze uncomfortably at the memory of her tear-streaked face, staring at the platform before the train he’d boarded, he was reminded that one couldn’t be worthy of the person they loved if they insisted on shattering their heart like a piece of glass.

-----

In the absence of semi-regular beatdowns, Sanemi had found other ways of distracting himself from the gnawing pit of despair and loneliness that was swallowing him whole, day by day. At the start of the spring semester, he’d finally hooked up with a girl in his mathematics seminar, and then began sleeping with another a month later. For months, he’d alternated between the two, thankful that neither of them had been interested in pursuing what he could not give them. And he’d enjoyed himself, because yeah, sex felt fucking good, but at the end of each affair, he hadn’t been able to shake the way his stomach clenched with the deep-seated disgust and oily squeeze of guilt.

Guilt, because he’d felt like he’d betrayed her, which was ridiculous considering she wasn’t his even if he’d always been hers; even if he knew, deep in his soul, that he always would be.

-----

A few nights later, he was out grabbing dinner on campus with Mitsuri and Obanai, the two lovebirds happily holding hands the entire evening, when they passed Shinobu crossing the green, ignoring her roommate’s kind greeting.

Though, Sanemi reasoned, she’d likely been trying to avoid having to make eye contact with them, so as to conceal her new black eye. While Sanemi would never raise a hand to a woman himself, that hadn’t stopped him from feeling a small bit of satisfaction at the memory of Makio stalking right up to the petite pharmacology student and nailing her square in the face.

In retrospect, Sanemi didn’t know if it was fair to blame Shinobu for Douma’s actions, but it was clear Makio did. Given the general iciness of the group toward the young woman who’d garnered a reputation for dealing Wisteria around campus, it seemed as though the others did, too.

He’d decided to withhold his feelings towards Y/N’s roommate until she, herself, indicated how she wanted to approach their friendship. It was her call to make, given that she was the one who’d been the target of Douma’s retribution.

Not that Sanemi would know of Y/N’s thoughts on the matter anytime soon; they hadn’t spoken since that morning in his kitchen, and she’d not returned any of his texts or calls in the days since the incident at the party. He knew she likely needed her space, so after the third straight day of no response, he resolved to give it to her.

It was hard to accept her radio silence, because it sent him right back to that feeling he’d had last year when he’d been urgently trying to find her after he’d learned her mother had died, and he feared she would disappear yet again. However, the group was set to go to Tengen’s family’s lake house that weekend for one last summer hoorah before classes began once more, and Kyojuro had already confirmed that Y/N was planning on going.

All of them were, except for Shinobu and Giyuu, according to Mitsuri that night as they ate too-greasy food at their campus grill. The pinkette sheepishly admitted she’d spoken with her roommate the night prior, and both agreed it was probably for the best that she stay behind, especially since Y/N was going. The pair of friends, though they lived together, hadn’t spoken since the Douma incident, either. Giyuu wouldn’t have gone without Shinobu anyways, but he was already out of town visiting his sister and her new husband.

So, Sanemi was left to anxiously anticipate the upcoming weekend. The thought of being at the Uzui lake house with Y/N filled him with both longing and dread, especially because he simply did not know the extent of the harm she’d suffered at the hands of Douma.

He’d known that she and Kyo had talked and worked things out – but Sanemi knew his friend wouldn’t divulge details without her permission, so Sanemi hadn’t tried to ask, wanting to respect both of his best friends’ boundaries.

The not knowing, however, was slowly eating him alive; he’d wanted to kill Douma that night, and truthfully, he thought he still might, if the opportunity presented itself.

Not that he was one to claim moral superiority over the bastard; not when he’d spent the better part of the last two years as one of the direct causes of Y/N’s emotional pain.

-----

“It’s Mrs. Y/L/N – she … she died. Last week. The funeral was yesterday.”

-----

Kyojuro’s words split Sanemi’s heart clean in half. There had only been one other time in Sanemi’s life when he’d felt the earth beneath his feet split open and swallow him whole, and that had been when his foster mother called him to tell him his little brother was lying in a morgue with a bullet hole in his chest.

But Sanemi found himself free-falling back into the earth’s molten center, and he couldn’t help but think he deserved to burn away inside its fire, because he’d failed yet again to be there for someone he loved.

Tears burned in his eyes as memories of Y/N’s mother flashed vividly through his mind, a slideshow of kindness and love that he’d been so grateful to receive from the young mother in the wake of his parents’ deaths.

For the first few weeks following the Shinazugawa boys’ discharge from the hospital, Mrs. Y/L/N had been a stand-in mother to them both, and they’d clung to her like dew on grass, craving her motherly comfort and assurance in the wake of the violent collision which had killed most of their family.

She’d been the one to apply ointment on his and Genya’s scars every night, her hands so warm and gentle to make up for the light sting of the medicated salve as she dabbed it delicately against their skin. She’d been the one to make their bag lunches for school, always making sure to pack extra for his younger brother, who never seemed to be full no matter how much he ate.

And now, she was gone. And he hadn’t even known she was ill.

That night, Sanemi sat on the floor of his shower and cried.

He cried, because his still-mending heart had been re-broken with the news of the death of the closest thing he’d had to a second mother.

He cried, because he’d failed to be there for someone he loved yet again, and Y/N had shouldered the death of her mother and the burden of planning a funeral without her two childhood best friends to lean on, and that wasn’t fair.

But even through his tears, Sanemi felt his resolve harden. He’d failed to be there for his brother when he needed him most; he’d failed to be a decent friend to Kyojuro, in the months following the younger boy’s death as he reeled from the pain of the loss. But he would not fail again; he swore he would find her and be there for her going forward. He would track her down, and he knew she might curse at and rebel against any offer of help, but he wouldn’t balk; he’d do anything, be anything for her, if it meant ensuring she wouldn’t fall into the infinite void of despair and grief that he had.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d prove himself worthy of being her friend once more.

-----

The Uzui family’s summer house was a sprawling manor that abutted a pristine, turquoise lagoon of a private lake, complete with a secluded beach area and a large section quartered off for bonfires, should the group of college-aged guests decide they were sober enough to light it.

The house itself was three levels, with a basement and a half-loft. The considerable size of the estate meant, plus the fact that several of them would be sharing rooms with their partners – Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma all sharing one with Tengen, and Obanai and Mitsuri sharing another – meant that Kyojuro, Sanemi, and Y/N each got their own private guest room.

Sanemi had no interest in being anywhere near the room with Tengen and his three, equally loud partners once they all retired for bed later that evening, and so, he’d claimed the room on the first floor, located just down the hall from the grand kitchen, decked out in new, state-of-the-art stainless-steel appliances and marbled countertops. Kyojuro and Y/N had both taken separate rooms on the second floor, apparently sure they wouldn’t be bothered by the sounds that were sure to emanate from their host’s room until the wee hours of the morning.

They’d arrived only an hour earlier, barely setting down their bags before everyone began to change into their swimsuits to head for the sun-warmed water before nightfall, the girls eager to work on their tans. Now, as Sanemi strolled alongside the sandy shore of the lake, only Y/N remained on land, lounging out on one of the luxurious beach chairs the Uzuis had installed in a finished seating area about fifty feet from where he stood, gazing out at the group’s newest couple as they splashed in the water.

A pang of jealousy reverberated through his chest as Sanemi watched Y/N’s pink best friend giggle in the arms of her new boyfriend as he swung her around in the shallow of the lake.

Ever since Obanai had finally confessed his feelings – and his fears – to Mitsuri, the two of them had been joined at the hip, the dark-haired boy's eyes perpetually clouded in bliss every time the vibrant girl fluttered her eyelashes at him or pressed against him to whisper softly in his ear before kissing his cheek.

-----

“If you can’t be honest with her, you’re going to lose her,” Sanemi said quietly as the two men stood at the bar, both nursing sodas as they watched the objects of their heart’s desire dance wildly and carefree on the Kizuki dance floor.

Obanai looked over at him, his eyes full of the kind of pain that he’d come to know far too well over the last few years. “Maybe it’s for the best,” he said quietly. “I’m not good enough for her – I don’t want to hurt her.”

Sanemi felt like he was talking to a mirror. “You’re already hurting her,” he took a sip of his ginger ale, though he hardly tasted it. “Cause you’re breaking her heart by staying away.”

The tortured boy’s misery was palpable as he looked back to where Mitsuri danced, lively and carefree.

“You’ll regret it as long as you live if you don’t tell her now.” In his mind, he saw only Y/N’s face as she transformed from the smiling girl of his memory to the cold, numb woman of his present. “Trust me.”

-----

He was happy for them, truly; but he couldn’t deny feeling a little jealous of the couple. After all, they both got to be with the person they loved.

Sanemi knew he had no one to blame but himself, but still; he wished he hadn’t fucked it all up with Y/N.

When Sanemi discovered the speckle of blood on his sheets the morning after he’d first brought Y/N home, he’d barely made it to his bathroom before throwing up.

It was too grotesque – the thought that the Wisteria had made him lose control so badly that he’d made Y/N bleed was too much for him to bear.

But the reality had been far worse than a simple case of lost control under the influence of an experimental drug and alcohol.

Far, far worse.

-----

(Three weeks earlier)

“Oh please, we all fuck each other here,” Mitsuri laughed, and Sanemi rolled his eyes.

The pretty, bubbly girl was unshaken by Sanemi’s terse rejection of her offer to join her and Obanai in the back of Tengen’s Volkswagen van for a “good time.” Though, whether her unflappability was from the drink she nursed in her hand or from an unshakeable confidence, developed over a lifetime of being beautiful and adored, he couldn’t say.

“Well, actually,” the pinkette chewed on her lip for a moment, in thought. “I guess that’s not totally true. Y/N didn’t sleep with anyone until you, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi’s hand, which had been reaching for his plastic cup full of water, froze mid-air.

“What.” His voice was hard, monotone.

The pink-haired girl was oblivious as she laughed. “Yeah, that’s why Makio called you ‘The Cherry Popper,’ that one night - since, y’know, you were Y/N’s first.”

Sanemi felt his vision tunnel, his heartbeat loud in his ears as it thudded uncomfortably against his chest. Something pressed against his lungs, making it difficult for him to breathe as the weight of Mitsuri’s confession settled over him.

All this time, he thought he’d simply been too rough with Y/N, under the influence of that cursed Wisteria.

But this was worse.

He’d assumed Y/N had already lost her virginity when they slept together. She’d had no hesitance in stripping him of his clothes, had begged him to go hard, and fast.

But now, as Sanemi’s breath came rough, he’d wondered if he’d misinterpreted her screams of pleasure — had they been cries of discomfort?’

Or her nails digging into his back — he’d assumed they were to spur him on, to beg him to go faster, but what if she’d been clawing at him to slow down? To stop?

If he’d known, he’d never would’ve done it — not like that, not when he was so blitzed out of his mind that he couldn’t make sure she received the kindness and gentleness she deserved.

It should’ve been special; she should have known how special she was to him. Instead, he’d fucked her no differently than any other hookup he’d had.

Was he no better than his father?

He’d been so elated that she’d responded to his kiss with enthusiasm, that admittedly, he’d lost his ability to reason. He’d pined for her for so long — years really — that the moment her lips had met his, all rational thought had flown from his head. And his heart had nearly stopped in his chest when she insisted that they keep going, when she’d laid back against his sheets and told him she needed him.

He’d hoped she would’ve felt some of the happiness he had, when she awoke the following morning; he’d hoped that he’d be able to make her breakfast, and then the two of them could talk and he could apologize for every stupid thing he’d done over the last two years. Maybe she would’ve forgiven him. But he’d gone and fucked that all up.

Because when he awoke, all that was left of her was her blood on his sheets.

-----

(Y/N’s POV)

Y/N watched her friends sprint into the shallow of the turquoise lake with a small bit of envy. She wanted, so very badly, to join them, but she’d miscalculated the coverage that her swimsuit afforded her, and to her horror, she’d realized that the mark Douma’d left on her would be on full display the moment she removed the oversized button-down she’d used as a cover-up.

“Y/N! C’mon!” Mitsuri entreated her as her head popped back up from under the surface of the water, her hair tinged a dark pink from the water.

Absentmindedly, her hand raised to the spot where Douma had soiled her and rubbed, the slight pain from her stimulation of the still-healing wound forcing her to remain in the present instead of back in that blasted, dark bedroom.

“I think I’ll work on my tan for now!” Y/N called back, plastering a wide, fake smile on her face to assuage any worry. Not that she needed to, because before Mitsuri could question her further, Obanai snuck up from beneath her and raised her out of the water on his shoulders, the pinkette laugh-screaming as she flailed about to keep herself upright.

A crunch of gravel next to her caused her to tense, because she knew that all of her other friends were accounted for, splashing about in the serene crystal of the lake.

All of them, except for him.

Sanemi said nothing to her as he drew up next to her, though he maintained a respectful distance. He too, watched their friends laugh and play in the water for a moment, his hands shoved in the pockets of his red swim trunks.

Y/N tried to be sneaky as she allowed her eyes to roam the sculpted plains of his exposed torso, marveling at the muscle that seemed to be carved from stone. Since the summer, he’d gained a bit of a tan, his skin now a lustrous nutty gold, that, against the white blonde of his hair, created an attractive contrast that made her mouth water.

God, he was beautiful; it pissed her off.

The tension between them was electric, as neither wanted to be the first to break the silence growing ever louder between them.

“No one will stare, y’know,” Sanemi caved first, though he did not tear his eyes away from where they were fixed resolutely on the horizon beyond the lake. “They all want you to feel comfortable, so they won’t look.”

Y/N was about to snippily ask him why he was butting in on her business, even though her irritation was because he’d read her mood so easily – too damn easily, for that matter. She tilted her head up, readying her venom, but before she could bite, the words died on her tongue.

Sanemi’s tan hadn’t been able to obscure the scars of varying lengths and thickness which crossed his chest, forearms, and half of his face; if anything, his sun-kissed skin only made the silvery, jagged slashes stand out.

As she’d looked up at her former friend, she was reminded that he knew exactly how she felt at that moment – had felt that insecurity, every day, since they were eleven and a drunk driver had slammed into his parent’s station wagon, killing everyone but him and Genya.

I don’t care if you have scars! She’d told him, once. I’ve always thought you were…were..pretty!

She winced at the memory, but painful and intrusive though it was, she still couldn’t find it within her to throw his attempt at reassurance back in his face. Y/N’s heart might have been a lowly, misshapen, shriveled lump, but she still had one.

And besides, she wouldn’t lie to herself; his words had soothed some of her anxieties, damn him.

“Thanks,” she said softly, and she gave him a small, tentative half-smile. She hated the look of hope that flickered to life in his eyes at the sight.

She hated the guilt that sunk into her gut even more.

-----

It was late and she was restless.

Most of the house had already retired for the night; Tengen had disappeared with his three girls, and Obanai and Mitsuri had snuck away back to her guest room, giggling softly, as the pair had been unable to keep their wandering, eager hands to themselves.

Y/N stayed up a little longer with Kyojuro, laughing and talking about everything and nothing as Sanemi lingered awkwardly by the shore of the sprawling lake that sat before the Uzui family’s handsome summer home. By the time Kyojuro had yawned, the moon hung high in the sky, and even the chirping night cicadas had long fallen silent.

She’d hoped that returning to her own guest room – located on second floor of the Uzui home – would trick her brain into thinking she too, was tired; but hours later, she’d realized, grimly, that she’d not be enjoying such luck.

And so, she’d found herself braced over the pristine kitchen sink in the Uzuis’ kitchen, unable to shake the incessant nag of sleeplessness that prickled under her skin.She’d thought herself alone, until a noise over by the entryway caught her attention, her eyes flashing over to see who’d joined her in her restlessness.

Y/N’s stomach roiled at the sight of Sanemi standing there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, as though he too, would rather be anywhere but there at that moment.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Y/N shook her head, busying herself with dumping out her water glass and rinsing it out. “Neither could I, I guess.” An awkward pause ensued, only disrupted by the squeak of the faucet as Y/N wrenched it off to towel off her drinking glass.

“I tried calling you – last week,” Sanemi said carefully, leaning against the door jam, his arms folding loosely across his chest. “But I never got an answer.”

Y/N chewed on her lip, wincing slightly. She didn't want to admit that she hadn’t really returned anyone’s calls, but that was because she’d spent the majority of the week hunched over her toilet, alternating between dripping with sweat and half-freezing to death as she weathered through the brutal withdrawal from Wisteria.

She wasn’t ashamed per se – but admitting she’d gone through withdrawal meant admitting that she’d become reliant enough on it to have a physical reaction to cutting herself off from it, and that meant admitting she was weak.

“I was…dealing with a lot,” she decided after a moment. She realized that she was oddly grateful that Douma’s assault on her had been the catalyst for her stopping her Wisteria misuse, given that it gave her away around talking about the pitiful way she’d spent the last seven days.

Besides, it wasn’t like it was a lie; between puking her guts out, she’d spent a lot of time replaying the events that had led her to Douma’s bedroom, terrified and crying.

“A-and are you – you okay?” He stuttered, fidgeting with the drawstring of his sleep pants, twisting it nervously around his finger.

Y/N exhaled but gave him a half-smile that was almost genuine. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Sanemi continued to shift nervously in the door, as though he wanted to ask her something else, but was warring with whether he should.

Ultimately, he decided to risk it. “Did he -“ Sanemi’s eyes screwed shut, and when he opened them again, he was fixed on a point over her shoulder, as though the question on his tongue was too much for him to risk meeting her eyes.

“Did he… hurt you,” Sanemi hesitated, his voice quieting to a whisper so soft, Y/N had to strain to hear it. “In a way I can’t see?”

Y/N’s eyes widened, her gaze softening as the weight of his question settled. “No, Sanemi, he didn’t. I promise.”

Her hand jumped absentmindedly to the faded mark where Douma had bit her and rubbed. “He wanted to, that much was clear, but Hakuji…Hakuji came just in time.”

Sanemi’s shoulders curled inward as he relaxed, and to Y/N’s heartache, she saw him nearly shaking under the weight of his unshed tears. “I’m sorry — I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

Y/N’s eyes hardened, and she let out a sardonic laugh. “That’s what you’re sorry for?”

She shook her head. “Why in the world would you have expected to have been there, Sanemi? You weren’t there any other time I needed you.”

“That’s not-“

“Too bad that’s the only thing you’re apologizing for,” Y/N sighed. “If only you would be sorry for the pain you’ve caused me, not for someone else hurting me.”

Sanemi’s gaze was hard, if not a little weary as he considered her words. “Okay Y/N, you’re right. It’s past time for us to do this,” he walked to the door that led out to the patio area, a little away from the house. He looked back to her, and in response to the eyebrow she had raised in question, he exhaled. “We’ve gotta have it out.”

Y/N did not move from her spot, standing with her back to the stovetop burners, merely crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him, her hip jutting out. “I’m not going anywhere. If you want to do this, we can do it right here.”

“Fine,” Sanemi bit, voice stony as he folded his arms across his chest, matching her stance. “Then go ahead.”

Y/N merely raised an eyebrow at him, keeping her mouth clamped tightly shut. She refused to let him order her around, to let him goad her into being vulnerable after two years of nothing from him.

Sanemi watched her expectantly for a moment before sighing. “I guess I’ll start,” and he rubbed at his tired eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me it was your first time? That night?”

To Y/N’s shock, Sanemi looked genuinely upset, and she despised the way it made her ache. For all her attempts to keep him forever at arm’s length despite her need for him, the first sign of his pain was enough to make her want to fall to her knees.

But she kept her face neutral, disinterested. “Why does it matter?”

“Because I-,” Sanemi hesitated, his fingers curling against his palms, hands forming fists. “You should’ve told me.”

This conversation was nearly impossible to have sober, and for a brief moment, Y/N craved the sweet oblivion of flashing neon lights and pounding music and purple pills.

“It was none of your business,” Y/N decided, fingers toying with the ends of her hair as she avoided his gaze. “It was my decision.”

Sanemi opened his mouth as though to argue with her, but she cut him off. “God, this is so like you, isn’t it?”

Her fists clenched, and the anger she’d so carefully kept tucked away inside her began to bubble over. “Is it some weird male possessive thing? You fucked me, so now you think you have some kind of claim to me?”

“I care about you, you idiot, and I thought I’d hurt you,” Sanemi replied hotly. “If I’d’ve known, I wouldn’t have done it at all.”

“It’s not about you caring for me,” Y/N snapped. “Admit it — you feel entitled to me.” You’ve always felt entitled to my affections, ever since we were kids.”

Her leg began to bounce with her irritation. “You’d get huffy if I showed the slightest bit of affection to any other boy — don’t try to deny it. You’d cross your arms and get all broody and it fooled no one.”

Y/N laughed, though it was without humor. “You’re a possessive, jealous asshole, who keeps me around because I stoke your ego. You can’t tell me you never thought, not even once, that I had feelings for you.” Y/N’s eyes burned with angry tears.

“Of course I thought it,” Sanemi shot back. “You think I was that fucking blind?” He cracked his knuckles, an anxious tic he’d had since they were small. “You think I didn’t see the way you looked at me, like I was your goddamn favorite person? How could I ignore that?”

Sanemi shook his head. “Did you ever stop to think, for one moment, that maybe I didn’t say shit because I knew — have always known — that I’m not fuckin’ good enough for you? You’ve always been the smartest out of the three of us, Y/N — but did that thought ever cross that pretty head of yours?”

“That’s such a bullshit fucking reason,” Y/N said, exasperated. “Spare me the ‘I’m not good enough for you’ crap, Sanemi. This isn’t a fucking novel,” Y/N ground her toe into the expensive, stone tile of the Uzui’s kitchen floor in frustration. “Because for all your talk, nothing changes the very simple fact that you cut me off like it was fucking nothing. Like I was nothing.”

Sanemi’s jaw went slack as he gaped at her. “Is that how you remember it?”

-----

“Though, I guess it would’ve been hard to know it was you, anyways.”

-----

(Nine Months Earlier)

As he lazily strolled to his next class, Sanemi’s eyes casually roamed amongst the faces of fellow students as they brushed by him, heading in the opposite direction, when something caught his attention. Or rather, someone.

That someone was a wisp of a person, hunched over and curled into themselves like a wounded animal. From the cursory glance he gave them, Sanemi could see that the student was one, a girl, around his age, and two, looked as though she was about to blow away in the brisk, November wind.

He almost passed her without another thought, when her eyes lifted briefly and collided with his, and Sanemi felt his stomach drop, though he couldn’t explain why. Perhaps the flip in his gut had to do with the deep-set shadows beneath the girl’s glassy eyes, or the heavy hollow of her cheeks, as if she’d not known rest or a decent meal for months.

As quickly as her eyes met his, they lowered again, and the girl brushed past him. Sanemi kept walking for a few steps, content to let all memory of the girl fall into the recesses of his mind.

But her eyes. Something about her eyes made his mind snag, pulled at something in his chest that urged him to stop, turn around, and go back to her.

He stopped; he stopped, in the middle of the crosswalk, though the light was quickly ticking down the seconds he had to finish crossing the busy intersection, because he knew those eyes, even if, to his horror, he hadn’t recognized the face, so worn and thin under the crushing weight of her grief.

He knew those eyes, because he’d spent his entire life loving them.

Sanemi whipped around, eyes frantically scanning the dissipating crowd of students in search of her once more. Though his next class was in the opposite direction, he sprinted back across the street to where she’d been walking, calling her name as he darted in and around scowling students, annoyed at the panic-stricken man calling a name that wasn’t theirs.

He felt the burn of his frustrated and desperate tears begin to sting his eyes as he realized, to his torment, that Y/N had evaded him once more, vanishing like smoke in the wind.

Sanemi felt the familiar howl of crippling, raging despair gathering like a violent sea wave in the midst of a storm within him rearing its ugly head to smash him to bits against the rocky shore of his anguish at the realization that Y/N hadn’t just lost her mother.

She’d been suffering. For months.

And he hadn’t known; hadn’t been there for her to lean on, to make sure that she wasn’t bearing the entirety of the weight of a sick parent by herself, only a nineteen-year-old girl. So stuck in his own grief over Genya he’d been that he hadn’t known the depths of Y/N’s endless distress.

He’d abandoned her, and now, the woman he loved was a shell of her former self; a living ghost, forever out of his reach despite always haunting the corners of his shredded heart.

Any thought of his upcoming class faded from his mind as he began to stumble towards Kyojuro’s apartment, desperate to share the news with someone, anyone, who would understand the depth of his despair, and Sanemi broke down into tears.

-----

“And where have you been hidin’ all this time?”

“I’ve been right here.”

“Nah, you haven’t.”

-----

(Six Months Earlier)

“It’s been months, Sanemi, and we haven’t caught so much as a whisper of her,” Kyojuro’s voice was heavy with resignation as the blonde looked pleadingly at his best friend.

The muscles in Sanemi’s forearms flexed as his grip on his phone tightened while he fiddled with it. “We haven’t looked everywhere – have we tried the Pillars?” Sanemi began searching the address for the nearby apartment complex where over two-thirds of the Ubaya-U upperclassmen student body resided.

Kyojuro shook his head. “The Pillars house over two thousand units – we can’t just start going door to door. We’d look insane.”

But the silver-haired man didn’t reply as his eyes narrowed at his screen. “I’ll bet most of the students are in the same building – most residents don’t wanna put up with a bunch of noisy, drunk college kids.”

Kyojuro only looked at his friend in pity. “Maybe she doesn’t want to be found, Sanemi. Not by us, at least.”

Sanemi finally looked up from his screen and cringed at the docility in his friend’s eyes. “What do you suggest we do, Kyo?” He tossed his phone on his kitchen table in annoyance. “Just give up? D’you really think it’s best to just leave her by herself?”

“You don’t know for certain whether she is alone, though,” Kyojuro countered. “She might’ve found her own group here. Maybe she already has support. Maybe she doesn’t need us anymore.”

Kyojuro’s words hit something soft within him that he hadn’t realized had been left unguarded. For deep down, one of Sanemi’s many fears had always been that Y/N would one day outgrow him, though he’d always maintained that he wouldn’t hold her back should the day come.

But that wasn’t what happened; Sanemi had checked out after Genya’s death, and had only snapped back into reality a few weeks before the news of Mrs. Y/L/N’s passing had reached his ears, threatening to send him back to that dark, lonely island amidst the never-ending sea of his grief.

All he wanted was to make sure Y/N hadn’t been marooned on her own isle. As long as she had someone, then Sanemi could accept that he’d fucked over any chance he’d had of remaining in her life, in any capacity.

But until then…

“We don’t know for sure,” Sanemi said hoarsely, leaning back in his kitchen chair, the worn wood creaking slightly under his weight. “And until we do, I ain’t risking her being left alone to deal with this.”

Kyojuro looked at him with such pity and sorrow that it made him want to squirm. Refusing to meet his friend’s fiery, discerning gaze, Sanemi reached to pluck his phone from the table once more, scrolling through his phone contacts list, scanning the names.

“D’you think she might still be in contact with her old roommate?” He asked though it was more of a rhetorical question, given that he’d already begun drafting a message. “I’ve gotta catch my train here in an hour – but we could always try texting her.”

-----

“D’you really think I didn’t try to find you?”

-----

(Three Months Earlier)

“Three – you’re dating three women?” Sanemi asked, equal parts stunned and impressed.

The suave, silver-haired man nodded, a dreamy grin spreading wide across his handsome face. “Sure am,” Tengen produced a sleek black phone from the pocket of his joggers, and opened his social media profile to search a username. “Suma, Makio, and Hinatsuru. They’re all seniors at Ubaya-U, and roommates.” Tengen wiggled his eyebrows. “Which makes life very convenient for me,”

Sanemi met Kyojuro’s ochre stare as Tengen scrolled, as though waiting for his friend to call bullshit on the young detective’s brag, but the blonde only nodded.

“Hold on, they all went out with a few friends the other night, and I think Suma uploaded a pic with all of ‘em,” Tengen’s eyes narrowed in on what Sanemi assumed was the girl’s profile, scanning. “Aha! Here,” he held his phone out for the two boys to inspect, a proud, smug smile etched into his handsome face.

The photo was of five girls, three of whom Tengen identified as “his girls.” One of the remaining smiles was that which belonged to a girl with curious pink and green hair, wearing what could only be described as rave attire, given that most of her considerable body was exposed, even under the dim light of the club. As for the remaining girl --.

Sanemi’s stomach dropped as he looked closer at the image on Tengen’s phone. For there, sandwiched between the pink girl and one of Tengen’s partners, was the girl who’d held Sanemi’s heart since the day they’d met in preschool.

Y/N.

Only, she didn’t look like herself, not really. The sultry smile she gave the camera didn’t quite reach her eyes, which held that hollow, deadened look of someone who’d long since lost their will to live; who’d long since stopped caring they had.

Sanemi was only able to tear his eyes away from the image of Y/N’s frozen not-smile when Kyojuro pressed his elbow into his gut. He looked back to Tengen, who watched him with an odd expression, and sheepishly, Sanemi realized he’d snatched the phone right from the young detective’s hand.

“Sorry,” he muttered, handing Tengen back his cell. “I’m just surprised. It’s been a minute since we last saw her.”

“Who?” Tengen frowned, looking back at the photo, before recognition lit his eyes. “Oh! You mean Y/L/N? You two know her?”

Sanemi found it difficult to speak, so Kyojuro answered for him. “We grew up together back home. We haven’t really seen or heard from her in a while,”

Tengen hummed disinterestedly, apparently aloof to the way Kyo’s voice had cracked. “I’ve met her a few times – Suma dotes on her.” He smiled as he clicked off his phone, leaning back in the booth. “She’s been over to the girls’ place a few times before, and she seems pretty cool; kind of a party girl, though.”

Sanemi gaped at him, finally finding his voice. “She’s a what?”

Tengen shrugged. “Yeah, one time I met up with their friend group at one of the clubs downtown – the Kizuki Lounge, I think? – anyways, she and Makio decided to have a drink-off, and it ended with my ass having to carry them both out to the car and drive ‘em home.” He chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. “They argued the whole drive back about who won.”

Both Kyojuro and Sanemi sat in dumb silence as the silver-haired man leaned in, his voice lower than it had been. “One of their friends – she wasn’t in that picture just now – but apparently she’s some sort of chemistry whiz. Made a new drug that’s like ecstasy, but lasts longer and has an easier come down.” A conspiratorial smile spread across his face, a devious light in his eyes as he whispered, “The girls swear it helped give them the most intense orgasms of their life. I kinda wanna try it out for myself.”

Tengen leaned back and winked. “Are either of you interested? Even if you don’t want it, you should try hitting up the Kizuki every now and again. Most of Ubaya-U’s student body goes to party there during the summer, and they tend to offer decent deals on drinks.”

Sanemi had frequented bars, but never clubs, and Kyojuro rarely found himself in either. However, if Tengen’s comments about Y/N were to be believed, it was more than likely she was a regular patron of the local joint. She’d managed to evade every other attempt to get in touch with her, but perhaps meeting her on her turf would give him the opening he’d been desperately holding out for.

And Sanemi wasn’t about to waste the opportunity to find out.

He took a swig of his coffee before setting it down, meeting Tengen’s stare evenly, though he fought to conceal the way his hands trembled. “What are you doing this Friday?”

-----

“I looked for you – everywhere, I looked for you.” Sanemi promised, his voice trembling as he pled with her. “Y/N, I knew what you were going through – I know what it’s like --,” his eyes begged her to just listen, but she couldn’t, not when she’d spent so long staying so silent.

“You have no idea!” Y/N burst, and for the first time in two years, she spoke of the night her world had ended, even though for everyone else, it kept spinning.

“I was alone when she died! It was just me in that hospital room,” Her tears flowed in a steady stream down her face, though her voice remained steady and sharp. “I was moving her hand over my hair because I knew I would never again get to feel her stroke my head whenever I was sad or stressed. It was so fucking late, and I was so tired, but I felt something shift, and I looked at her and watched her take her last fucking breath, Sanemi!”

Y/N ‘s hands wrung in her grief. “I had to call the nursing attendant and tell them – even though I could barely speak, I had to tell them my Mama stopped breathing.”  As she spoke, she saw only the image of her mother in that damn bed, still and pale, and her mother but no longer.

“And do you know what happened next? They told me I needed to leave and sign fucking paperwork,” She laughed, derisively, though she only cried harder. “I had to sign fucking release forms and then they just – told me goodnight. I walked to my car. Alone. I drove home. Alone. Without her.”

“I was with you when you found out about Genya – we made sure you weren’t alone! But me? Who was there for me?” Y/N was sobbing into her hands, her shoulders shaking with the weight of all the bitter loneliness she’d been forced to endure over the last two years. “Where were you?”

“Y/N, I get it, I do –,” Sanemi began but Y/N shook her head.

“No, Sanemi, you don’t understand!” Her voice was no longer angry, but pleading, begging him – anyone – to understand just how much she’d been struggling and for how long. “Every night when I close my eyes, I see her, lying there. I hear the beep of her oxygen monitor going haywire because she wasn’t breathing, and I see her take her final breath. Every night, over and over, and I just want it to stop.”

Y/N slumped back against the kitchen counter, exhausted and defeated. “You asked me where I’ve been the last two years, and you were right – I haven’t been here; because I’m still there –in that hospital room. I never left.”

Her sobs finally quieted beneath the press of her hand to her mouth as she tried to stifle the hysterical way her breath struggled to catch. “And I don’t think I will ever leave. It’s been two years, Sanemi, and I’m still sitting there, right where I lost everything.”

“So yeah, I was desperate for an escape. Because, that next day, I woke up, and for some reason, morning, still came, even though my Mom would never again see another sunrise, and even though my world had been obliterated,” Y/N’s voice quieted to a near whisper, her voice hoarse from her tears. “And everybody else just moved on. I wanted to pretend that I had, too, even if only for a little while.”

“I was alone,” Y/N cried softly into her hands. “I’m still alone.”

When Sanemi spoke, his voice was rough and cracked. “I know I left you alone then,” but for some reason, his validation didn’t soothe her the way it had with Kyojuro. “But you’re not alone now – I tried, so hard, Y/N, to find you and make sure you were okay, and I failed,” His eyes shone with his own unshed tears. “I refuse to leave you alone, now. I know that probably pisses you off, but I can’t – I can’t leave you, not when I know --,”

“It’s too late,” Y/N interjected, lifting her head up to meet his eyes. “You can’t just waltz back into my life and decide you care now, not after all this time.”

“It was never about me not caring,” Sanemi sat down in the seat opposite from her, his head braced between his hands as his fingers tugged at his hair in frustration. “I don’t get why you can’t understand that.”

She gaped at him. “You stopped talking to me because I said I was in love with you – I fully understand that it was piss-poor fucking timing on my part, but you tossed me aside like garbage.”

Sanemi’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “You think that’s why I stopped talking to you?” And suddenly, devastation pulled at his face as his shoulders sagged. “Y/N – that was never the reason --,”

“What other reason was there, Sanemi?” Her tears had dried, but the gnawing ache in her chest only deepened at the look of his despair, because, angry as she was with him, she would never wish him to be in as much pain as he appeared to be in right then. “Even if you weren’t really that angry, it doesn’t change the fact that you stopped speaking to me because of it,”

“Y/N – that’s not –,” Sanemi began, but Y/N wanted no part of it, and she could tell they were only gearing up for another fight. She opened her mouth, ready to unleash all of her acidic, biting remarks about how comfortable Sanemi had been to use her, knowing that she was probably still in love with him, when he spoke once more.

“You aren’t the only one who has been grieving.” Sanemi’s words hit her with a force that knocked the breath from her lungs, and the fight from her blood.

“I lost the last person I could call ‘family,’ too, Y/N.” Sanemi spoke with a brokenness that she knew only she recognized as grief – boundless and all-consuming. “I failed as your friend, that’s true,” Sanemi’s voice quieted to a whisper. “But I failed as a brother, first.”

-----

(November, 2 months after Genya’s death)

Sanemi laughed as the enraged bar patron’s fist slammed into his nose. The blow wasn’t hard enough to break the bone, given his intoxication, but it was enough for Sanemi to taste the blood as it dripped into his mouth.

“You’re fucking crazy,” the man spat, stumbling slightly.

Sanemi’s grin only widened. “I bet your wife would like some crazy in her life. You look as dull as a sack of shi-,” his taunt was cut off as the man landed another sharp to his gut, the breath wheezing out of him as Sanemi felt something inside him crack.

Probably another rib, he groused, gritting his teeth slightly. Just down the darkened alley, Sanemi could see people slowing down, watching as the balding drunkard threw lazy and disjointed punches at the bloodied, laughing man, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the cops were called. And Sanemi, to his annoyance, had promised Kyojuro he would try to stop needing the blonde to bail his ass out of jail every other week. He hadn’t known why he’d made such an inane promise to his best friend in the first place; it wasn’t as if he mattered.

Because the days following Genya’s death had blurred into weeks, which bled into months. For Sanemi, life became marked by the amount of time that had passed since he’d become the only Shinazugawa left on earth.

Since he’d last been someone’s brother.

Two days. Twenty-three. A month. Four months. Nine. A year.

Life post-Genya was a series of blurs; droplets of water on a page that smeared ink into something vaguely recognizable, but ultimately rendered useless.

Just like him.

For so long, his identity had revolved around being Genya’s big brother — his Aniki, as the boy had affectionately called him.

Could one still be an older sibling when they had no sibling left?

Genya had been Sanemi’s pride and joy. He’d been eager to get settled into college, to get his own place so Genya wouldn’t have to share a bunk bed with other kids the state had squeezed into their foster home. He’d lined up jobs to ensure he could buy Genya whatever food he wanted, whenever he wanted it, because Genya was always hungry, and their foster parents had never seemed to have enough to go around.

But then, Genya had wound up dead, and Sanemi hadn’t even been there to protect him. What kind of big brother was he, if he couldn’t even be counted on to be there when his little brother needed him the most?

He didn’t even get to say goodbye. He’d left his brother only a couple of weeks prior, with a promise to come and visit him as soon as he could. Genya had tried his hardest to stifle his tears, but despite his brother’s somewhat hardened appearance, thanks to the scar that cut across his face, Sanemi knew Genya was a sensitive boy, prone to wearing his heart on his sleeve. So the elder Shinazugawa had pulled his brother in tight, ruffled his hair, and told him he’d see him soon.

It had been a lie; the next time Sanemi saw Genya, the fourteen-year-old was a body on a metal table, awaiting Sanemi’s approval to be sent to a funeral home for burial preparations.

And so, the days passed in one, monotonous, never-ending cycle. Wake up; stare at the ceiling; force himself to eat, shower, and go to class. Then, Sanemi would grab his fake ID, head to a bar, take a few shots of some burning, acidic liquid, and then identify the meanest, biggest thug in the joint and pick a fight. He’d let himself get beaten to a bloody pulp and then he’d limp his way home, barely making it to his bed before passing out in the sweet stupefaction of oblivion.

Occasionally, he’d wonder why on earth he was the one who was left alive; why fate had demanded Genya’s life and not his, because Genya had so much more to offer the world than he did.

After all, Genya hadn’t even picked the fight between the two boys from their old foster home, and he’d still ended up dead.

The time never seemed to stop even though his little brother’s heart had; and with each passing day, Sanemi felt himself growing number and number. As the pulsing ache between Sanemi’s ribs dulled, he mused that, with every moment that passed, he was growing closer to becoming just like the little brother who now slept six feet under the frozen ground of the cemetery plot that also now housed their parents and other siblings.

Nothing more than a corpse.

If only it had been him.

It should have been him.

-----

“After Genya died I —,” Sanemi hesitated. “I wasn’t a good person, Y/N. You didn’t need to see me like that.” He ran a hand down his face, his weariness a heavy shadow beneath his eyes. “I’m honestly surprised Kyo stuck through it as long as he did.”

“I fucked up, I know that.” He admitted, his eyes shining with his own unshed tears. “I was an asshole to you, and I could’ve done more,”

Sanemi’s voice dropped to a whisper. “But I needed you, too. And you vanished. You told me you loved me and then you vanished. And it was like losing another person I loved all over again, and I’d barely started mourning Genya.”

Y/N felt her stomach drop to the floor and her vision tunnel. The weight of Sanemi’s words slammed into her with cataclysmic force, and she shot out a steadying hand against the counter to keep her knees from buckling.

She remembered now, the point at which she’d fucked it all up; and he was right.

Y/N had felt abandoned by her friends, but she’d forgotten that it was she who distanced herself from Sanemi first; that she’d done so to protect her own stupid pride and heartache after his apparent rejection of her love. She’d evaded him first, because she’d assumed that was what he wanted, even though he’d tried texting her once. She’d neglected to consider that perhaps, his ignorance of her hadn’t anything to do with his anger that she’d dared to confess; that perhaps, his neglect of her had been part of a general disconnect from the world, in the wake of it taking yet another person he loved away.

At the time, Y/N hadn’t understood what it meant to grieve; hadn’t been able to comprehend the ways in which it could engulf someone like a wildfire before they could ever see the smoke.  

He’s dealing with a lot right now, Kyojuro had told her, sternly. But perhaps Kyojuro’s admonition hadn’t been that at all; perhaps it had been a tired, desperate effort to remind her that Sanemi’s introversion from the world had nothing to do with her at all.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N gasped, her hands shaking. “I didn’t realize – I just knew I felt alone. All I wanted was you, Sanemi. I didn’t care how. I just wanted my friend.” This time, Y/N did not try and steady her voice as the tears welled up in her eyes. “I needed you — I needed my ‘Nemi. But you weren’t there – I-I didn’t think-,”

“I promise you, I wanted to make it right. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did at the train station,” Sanemi gave a great sniff, lifting his head to meet her eyes. “When I snapped out of it, I tried so hard to find you by then, it was too late; you were gone,” His tears fell fast and hot down his face. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N.”

“I failed you; I know that --,”

But the girl shook her head, collapsing back against the kitchen counter. “We failed each other.” She wiped her cheeks, her arms winding tight around her middle as she tried to hold herself together even though the weight of the words that followed threatened to tear her apart at the seam for good. “And I don’t know how to fix this – how to fix us.”

Sanemi leaned back against the table, opposite her. “Maybe we can’t…maybe we can never go back to the way things were.”

Even as he said it, Y/N’s heart seized. She knew he was right, but she wanted so very badly to believe he was wrong; wanted to believe there was still a them to salvage.

“That doesn’t change how I feel about us,” Sanemi continued. “And that doesn’t mean we can't try to make something new.”

His words, so brutally honest and yet hopeful, tugged at the bleeding, mangled pieces of her heart. For the first time since they’d reunited, Y/N felt as though she could finally see him – all of him – and he broke her heart, and not for the reasons she thought he had before. The remnants of her heart ached for him because he looked just as broken and lost as she was, and she realized that perhaps, they hadn’t meant to hurt one another. Perhaps, they’d both been merely victims of their own grief.

All Y/N knew was that she was tired, so very tired of running from him, especially when he’d always been inevitable. And she wanted, more than anything, to ease some of the burden that she’d failed to notice he’d been struggling to carry, too consumed by her own grief and pain and rage.

Sanemi’s stare was weary as she slid off the counter and approached him timidly, hesitating just once before winding her arms around his neck and kissing him, gently.

She kissed him because she did not know what else she could do at that moment. There were no words she could say, no promises she could offer him, other than this small act of physical comfort.

Sanemi kissed her back, soft, though the hand on her face felt more like an effort to restrain himself from going any further. Y/N’s suspicions were confirmed when he broke away from her lips, panting slightly, and moved when she tried to reconnect them.

He pressed his forehead against hers. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he murmured, apologetically. “We’re both all worked up.”

Y/N opened her eyes and peered up at him, nodding. He was right; of course, he was right, but his rejection stung anyways.

He must have sensed it, for he pressed his lips tightly against her forehead, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Let’s just take some time, okay?”

Her lips trembled with the effort to keep herself from crying once more, but she nodded, nonetheless. Briefly, Sanemi’s lips brushed her forehead once more, before he pulled away, and silently retreated to his bedroom, leaving Y/N in the dim light of the kitchen.

-----

The next day and a half passed without event, and Y/N was grateful for it. She’d managed to smile and laugh with Mitsuri and Kyojuro, and goofed around with Tengen’s beautiful girlfriends, but her heart remained heavy in her chest.

Though, it wasn’t an unwelcome weight, even if it made her uncomfortable at times. The fallout from hers and Sanemi’s talk two nights earlier had been both the final knife to her blackening heart and its bandage, and she’d been left to work through the complex tapestry of her feelings towards the man who’d held her heart before she’d even known she’d given it to him.

Such thoughts, however, had not quieted. It was just after midnight when Y/N gave up on trying to sleep. The house was too large and too quiet, and it made the thoughts in her head all the louder and sleep all the more evasive.

With a sigh, she kicked free of her blankets and rose, padding out of her temporary bedroom and into the dark, silent hall of the Uzui lake house. Trust that Tengen, of all people, would come from a family that not only had a summer house, but one large enough that each of her friends had been afforded their own private bedroom for their short weekend.

Clad in only a pair of black boy-shorts and a matching, cropped tank, Y/N clandestinely made her way down towards the large staircase which led to the first floor, but paused before beginning her descent, as she remembered that Sanemi’s room was on the first floor – just before the kitchen.

He’d wanted space, and she’d given it to him. Over the last two days, the pair hardly spoke to one another except for, when necessary, by virtue of the group’s activities under the sun. It hadn’t been out of any malice or anger, not like before. Rather, it seemed that their mutual avoidance of one another had been born out of a curious shyness that had bloomed between them, as both worked through the snarled tangles of their hearts.

If she went to the kitchen, as planned, there was a chance she’d wake him, and even if every fiber of her body missed him, the last thing she wanted was to be the cause of his loss of sleep – at least, more so than she’d apparently already had been.

On the other hand, she was thirsty, and there was a restlessness buzzing beneath her skin that would not quiet, that hadn’t quieted since she’d given up those treacherous lilac pills.

Y/N decided to take her chances, resolving not to turn on any of the stair lights or the light in the kitchen, instead navigating only by the dim light of her phone as she eased her way down the polished wood stairs. She held her breath as she slipped past the door that led to Sanemi’s room, as though the very sound would risk disturbing the handsome man slumbering within.

Once in the kitchen, Y/N blindly felt around for the cupboard containing sparkling glasses and managed to fill one with water without making a great deal of sound. Using the light of her phone screen, she managed to hop up onto the cool, marbled countertop and leaned back against the cabinets as she nursed her drink.

For the last two nights, sleep had evaded Y/N because of the way Sanemi’s words had played, over and over her head, a never-ending tape that showcased her own selfishness on a loop.

You aren’t the only one who has been grieving, he’d told her, brokenly.

He was right, and she was horrible.

For as long as she could remember, Y/N had always feared being selfish. She didn’t know where the deep-seated aversion to looking after he own self-interest had come from, but it was one that was so deeply ingrained within her that she’d long since stopped trying to overcome it. Instead, she’d found herself always trying to do the best for other people, desperately trying not to put herself over her loved ones, for fear they would leave her the instant she did.

When she’d found out her mother was going to die, she’d been left by the doctor to break the devastating news as her beloved mother lay in that hospital bed, fighting so hard to keep her oxygen levels up so that she could get out. Her mother had been asking Y/N to describe all of the autumnal decorations she’d seen go up in town, as though the prospect of seeing fake leaf garlands and pumpkins would be enough to make her lungs work properly once more.

For as long as she lived, she would never forget the broken disbelief in her mother’s eyes as Y/N had tearfully told her she would not live to see the end of the week.

“I thought I had more time,” her mother had wheezed, brokenly, clasping Y/N’s hand as tightly as she could with her dwindling strength.

She’d looked so scared, so lost, and what had Y/N done?

Y/N had cried; sobbed and had been utterly unable to stop. Her mother had needed comfort, and she hadn’t been able to toughen up and stop crying.

I’m sorry, Mama, she’d bawled, I can’t stop crying, I’m so sorry.

Her mother, with tears in her own eyes, had only shaken her head. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

As though it were her fault she was dying; as though Y/N didn’t know that if death were a matter of will, her mother would be here, on earth, with her still.  

In her mother’s most desperate moment, Y/N had been utterly incapable of providing comfort, instead needing to be comforted, like the child she’d been. It was despicable; she was despicable.

To her horror, she’d been nothing but selfish. So, so very selfish, for being unable to check her emotions when it mattered most. And her mother had barely been conscious after that final conversation, which meant Y/N hadn’t been able to apologize for making her mother comfort her in her hour of greatest need. But Y/N had added that great regret to the list of things that would likely haunt her for the rest of her life, hopeful that maybe its presence on her list of regret would serve as a warning for her in the future.

It hadn’t; because Y/N had fallen right back into the sticky trap of her own selfishness and had failed to account for all the ways in which Sanemi had been suffering, right alongside her.

Worse, she’d relished his suffering because she’d thought she’d been the cause of it, and it had felt so damn good to finally get him back for the two years of hell she’d endured, never realizing that he’d been burning, too.

They’d been victims of a shitty hand dealt to them both, but too young and too stupid to be able to see the world outside of their own heads. And now, she had no idea where things stood between them.

Deep in thought, Y/N did not sense the shift in the air that signaled another was stirring until the kitchen light flipped on, and Y/N’s head shot up to see the person she’d most wanted to both see and avoid.

Sanemi looked just as surprised to see her, perched on the kitchen counter. His hand still lingered on the light switch, and his eyes were wide. He seemed to realize he’d been staring, and he quickly looked down to his feet, the faintest trace of red crossing his cheeks.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Y/N huffed a watery chuckle, wiping quickly at the tears that clung to her cheeks. “Neither could I – just a little restless, I guess.”

There was so much she wanted to say, and yet, she couldn’t think of a single word to speak, as he continued to hover by the light switch, uncertainty turning his muscles rigid. An awkward silence ensued as Y/N gave a great sniff and tried, but failed, to fake an ‘everything is fine’ smile.

Not that she would’ve been able to fool him anyway, but still, she mused, it would’ve been nice to try.

“I’m sorry – I’ll go back to my room,” She put her water glass down by her side and braced her hands against the edge of the counter to hop down, but remembered that she was still only in her underwear. It was foolish, she knew, to feel suddenly self-conscious being so exposed in front of him, given that Sanemi had spent the entire summer exploring every nook and cranny of her body with his mouth and hands, but the emotions of the weekend still weighed heavily on her – made her feel vulnerable.

Especially under the microscope of his burning stare.

Sanemi didn’t respond, nor did he comment on her failure to move off the counter. Instead, he only continued to watch her as she wiped at her cheeks, that fathomless heat and longing and hurt in his stare.

“I’ve always hated seeing you cry,” he finally murmured, and Y/N was surprised to see that he had inched closer to where she sat, perched on the kitchen counter.

A door was opening, and Y/N found herself wondering if she should walk through it or remain here, where the line between them was tenuous, but a line nonetheless; safe, and capable of being enforced, if she needed to run.

Y/N recalled a conversation they’d had about Mitsuri and Obanai before the pair had begun dating – back when they, too, had been chained to their own doubts of the other’s sincerity.

They should let themselves try, he’d quietly insisted.

She’d rebuked his words, only to find herself eat crow later; Mitsuri and Obanai had let themselves try, and now they were together, mending and growing as one instead of as two.

Maybe they could try, too.

“But why?” Y/N pressed, because though she’d decided at that moment to walk through that door with no reservations, she still wanted to hear him say it; wanted an explanation, after all these months.

“You know why,” was his only reply, his voice growing hoarse as he drew up within an arm’s reach of her.

Y/N shook her head again, but Sanemi did not stop; his hands boxed her in on the counter, one thick forearm coming to brace on either side of the kitchen counter, thumbs just grazing her thighs.

“You know why,” he insisted.

Y/N finally lifted her eyes to his, the last wavering thread of her resolve dissolving as she beheld the timid, pleading sincerity in his stare.

She exhaled, softly, but she did not move away from him.

“Then show me.”

She’d never seen Sanemi look so shy as he lifted one hand to cup her delicately under the chin. As he leaned in close, Y/N felt a curious tingle in her stomach that only grew in its intensity as his lips – so warm and soft – brushed against hers.

It was butterflies, Y/N realized as her eyes closed, that she’d felt fluttering in her stomach as Sanemi kissed her, because it was everything their first kiss should have been. It was not rough and sticky from mixed drinks and being pressed against dirty club walls in the dark, like the act itself was a shameful secret driven only by lust.

It was gentle, and soft, like the first fall of snowflakes against her cheeks. It was warm like a summer breeze, gently messing the tendrils of her hair against her bare shoulders, as it caressed her skin and promised precious moments of levity and of peace.

Sanemi’s lips moved against hers, still so gentle, and Y/N felt not just the love she’d come to accept he held for her, but also his hope, as tentative and uncertain and yet as eager, as a newborn fawn taking its first shaking steps in the spring.

It was everything; he was everything.

Their kiss grew more heated as they both grew more desperate to consume one another, the desire to make up for all the time lost between them morphing into a base need, as though their minds knew they needed the other to help put themselves back together again; to make themselves whole.

Sanemi’s hands found the sliver of skin exposed between the top of her underwear and the bottom of her tank top, and Y/N moaned, her legs wrapping around his hips to lock her closer to him as she let Sanemi engulf her in his strong, sturdy arms.

He lifted her effortlessly from the counter, his lips never leaving hers, and he began to walk them toward his bedroom. As Y/N’s legs wrapped eagerly around his waist, and her fingers tightened their grip in his hair, she found herself grateful that his room was just around the corner.

His tongue danced slowly with hers as he nudged the door to his room open with his foot and blindly pushed it shut once they were safely inside.

Sanemi’s lips dropped to her neck as he carried her to his bed, laying her out beneath him as his hands skimmed under her tank top, rough fingertips gliding up the sides of her bare waist until his palms rested against her breasts, rolling the mounds between his hands until she was moaning into his mouth, her wetness gathering quickly in her underwear as Sanemi pressed his groin against hers and rolled.

He made quick work of discarding her sleeping top, his mouth closing around one of her nipples as he gave it a hard suck, his hand cupping the other to roll her stiffening nipple between his fingers with a surety that had her whining and tugging at his hair, begging him for more.

Y/N’s fingers clawed at his back, eager to tear his t-shirt from his back so that her hands could greedily roam the stony ridges of his back, his chest. Sanemi groaned as she raked her nails across his shoulders, and he nipped her breast in response for making his way down to where her underwear struggled to conceal her arousal from him.

His tongue grazed over the thin scrap of fabric that separated her bare cunt from his waiting mouth and he groaned, his fingers digging into the sides of her thighs. “I can taste you through your damn panties,” he growled, his eyes dark as they lifted up to her face, flushed bright pink as she watched him slowly drag his tongue up her clothed slit. “Are you that needy for me already, baby?”

Sanemi withdrew himself from between her legs, and Y/N thought she’d fall apart at the loss of his warmth above her. Any protestations she had bubbling in her throat, however, died, as Sanemi shoved his sweatpants down his legs, his thick length springing forth and bouncing against his navel.

No matter how many times she’d seen it, the sight of his cock, long and with considerable girth, with a pretty, mushroom-like tip that grew an angry red the longer he went without stimulation, never failed to make her mouth go dry.

“Let me take care of you, sweet girl,” he cooed, slowly kneeling before where she laid sprawled on his bed as his hands smoothed up her thighs to the bottom of her underwear. Gently, his fingers curled under the fabric and began to slide them down the length of her legs, until he’d pulled them away from her feet.

Before he returned to her, he balled the discarded cloth in his hand and brought it to his nose, eyes closing as he inhaled deeply the scent of her arousal, a soft growl reverberating from the back of his throat as he opened his eyes, amethyst irises full of heady want for her.

“Fuck, I’ve missed that,” he said quietly, his movements slow, teasing, as he knelt on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, as he settled between her thighs.

Y/N huffed a shaky laugh. “It’s been two weeks, you nymphomaniac,” though she nearly gulped at way his eyes darkened as he exhaled softly along her glistening, throbbing core.  

Sanemi sat back from her, eyes roaming her bare body as he considered her words. “You’re right, it’s been two weeks,” he said evenly, as his hands slide under backside, lifting her up to work himself under her until she was perched on his abdomen, its rocky ridges brushing deliciously against her bare folds.

“W-what are you -!” Y/N’s question was cut off as Sanemi’s broad, warm hands gripped under her thighs and hauled her up his torso, bringing her to hover just above his face as he settled beneath her.

“It’s been too long,” Sanemi grunted, his voice like gravel with his desire. “I need this. I need you.”

His strength had always greatly outmatched her own, but Y/N did not try to struggle as he lowered her bare cunt onto his mouth, his hands braced on her hips as he pushed her full weight down onto his face, groaning loudly as her essence enveloped him.

Sanemi’s head had spent a great deal of time between her thighs since the start of the summer, and yet this was somehow far more intimate.

Intimate, because she was utterly helpless as he held her throbbing core flush against his face, his arms caged tightly around her thighs, prohibiting her from moving away even if she’d wanted to do so, as he devoured her.

From beneath her, Sanemi let out a deep groan as his tongue sank between her folds and began lapping at her. Sanemi’s expert tongue wove in and out of her folds, periodically grazing over her entrance with such teasing fervor that Y/N felt her lower abdominal muscles seize, and she could not stop her hips as she began to grind into his mouth, her head tossed back.

A sharp prick against her inner thigh had Y/N’s eyes flying open as she looked down, surprised to see Sanemi licking the inside of her thigh where he’d nipped her. Even in the dark, Y/N could see the moonlight reflecting off his lavender irises he held her gaze, the hands around her thighs tightening and Sanemi slid his hot, silken tongue into her opening.

Y/N’s responding moan was loud, wanton, her head falling back as her hips ground down into his mouth as she began to ride his tongue. Below her, Sanemi groaned, his laps and sucks at her most sensitive area growing louder as he greedily slurped her juices.

Y/N began to feel that coil deep in her stomach grow tighter as her clit began to pulse and throb against Sanemi’s relentless tongue and lips. One hand slid under her to play with her entrance, his rough fingers circling her opening, sliding into her until his first knuckle before withdrawing, teasing her as her hips bucked wildly against his face, as she grew more desperate for him to fill her.

“Sanemi – p-please,” Y/N begged as his deft fingers avoided sinking into her spasming heat once more, a small scream of frustration tearing from her throat as he continued to tease her.

Though her white-haired lover was prone to continue teasing her, the grip around her thighs tightened as Sanemi pressed her harder against his face, his tongue thrusting in and out of her as his teeth grazed her aching bead over and over. Y/N’s cries grew louder, closer together, as the rough stubble of his jaw scraped against her sensitive flesh.

It was too much; with a sharp cry, Y/N’s thighs seized around Sanemi’s head as she felt a rush of her juices gush out of her, coating his face. The vibrations from Sanemi’s groans of satisfaction intensified the ripple of pleasure that rocked through her, and Y/N could not stop herself from grinding even harder against him in a desperate attempt to prolong her release.

Y/N fought to keep herself upright as she bucked against his face, but the sensation had become too much, and she found herself falling back against his legs. Sanemi didn’t seem to mind, his arms remaining tightly locked around her lower hips as he continued to rock his face against her core, her thighs shuddering around his head at the scrape of his stubbled jaw against her heated, sensitive flesh.

She turned her head and was surprised to see how close Sanemi’s cock was to her face, standing thick and tall as it bounced proudly against his abdomen with every flex of his stomach muscles and thighs as he continued to eat her out like she was his final meal.

Y/N’s lips went dry as her eyes took in the leaking, red tip of him, so demanding and eager, and yet he’d been utterly content to ignore his own need in favor of satisfying hers.

She struggled against his iron-like grip on her hips, trying desperately to turn so she could take him fully into her mouth, but he was too lost in her cunt to realize she wasn’t trying to get away; she wanted him, wanted to pleasure him as must as he insisted on pleasing her.

“Sanemi,” she whined, trying to turn once more, but his arms only tightened around her, a growl of warning reverberating from his chest.

Straining, Y/N leaned as close as she could to his aching cock and stuck her tongue out, just managing to graze the side of it before she had to pull away.

It was enough. At the first caress of her wet tongue against him, she felt Sanemi freeze beneath her, his tongue momentarily pausing mid-thrust into her core as he realized what she was trying to do.

“Fuck this,” he muttered, finally tearing himself away from her lovingly abused cunt and throwing her off him to the side, her breasts bouncing as she settled against the mattress. “I need you – now.”  

Sanemi covered her body with his own, her legs falling to the side with practiced ease as she accommodated his hips. Despite his gruff words, Sanemi bent down to kiss her softly, his lips warm and gentle, as one hand rose to caress her cheek. Y/N locked her arms around his neck, happily sighing into his mouth as his tongue slid between her lips to stroke hers, each caress making the fire in her lower belly burn hotter and more urgent.

Sanemi shifted, keeping one hand on her face as the other moved to grip him at his base, aligning himself with her entrance. His eyes flitted back up to hers one more time, seeking her permission, and it made Y/N’s heart seize. Even after more than two months of sleeping with her, he still insisted on ensuring he had her approval.

Had she been able to form a coherent sentence, she would have begged him to take her, but she’d long since lost her ability to speak thanks to Sanemi’s skilled hands and mouth, and so, she only rolled her hips towards his impatiently, whimpering with her need.

Sanemi groaned in response and the hot, flared tip of his aching cock pushed into her. Ordinarily, Sanemi took his time working his way inside her, given his considerable size and girth; but, thanks to the way he’d insisted she ride his face, Y/N’s core had become impossibly slick that Sanemi sunk into her molten heat in a single, fluid motion, not stopping until his base was pressed flush against hers.

A hitched breath blew past Sanemi’s lips as he buried his face into the crook of his neck. He locked one arm around her upper back, the other encircling her thigh to hold her open for him as he began to rock into her, sloppily and hurried, as though he were getting lost in the feeling of her tight, soaking heat as she clenched around him.

“S-Sanemi!” Y/N gasped, her fingers burying themselves into the pale cornsilk of his hair as she tugged, eliciting a deep groan from the Adonis that ground into her from above with abandon.

Y/N’s hips moved of their own accord as she desperately sought to meet his frenzied thrusts, circling and pushing against him as Sanemi’s cock hit that spot within her that made her toes curl and her stomach dip. She was as wanton and desperate as he was, though the harder she moved against him, the more needy she became.

She needed him to be closer; so much closer.

“’Nemi,” she cried, begging him though she did not know what she begged for, as she moved her hands from his hair to rake her nails down his back, needing him to do something, anything to bring her closer -.

Sanemi locked a steely arm around her middle and in one fluid motion, flipped them, bringing Y/N atop him.

Both groaned in unison as the new position allowed Sanemi to reach even deeper within her, and Y/N felt nearly intoxicated by the sensation of being filled and stretched to her limit. Sanemi’s hands braced at her waist as he began to help her roll her hips against his, his head falling back as his eyes fell shut in bliss, a deep moan falling from his mouth.

Tears stung Y/N’s eyes as she ground against him because she understood what his actions meant even if he’d not uttered a word.

Sanemi Shinazugawa said he’d never let anyone ride him.

But he wanted to be hers.

So, with an unfamiliar yet welcome warmth spreading through her chest, Y/N began move, her hips softly rolling and grinding against his as she braced her hands against his rocky abdomen, fingers digging in slightly as she tilted her head back and moaned his name, loud and unrestrained.

“Nemi,” Y/N gasped, her hips rising and falling and grinding against him with a fervor beyond her control, as she could not get enough of how it felt to fuck herself on him. “Am I — ah — doing this right?”

A loud groan from deep in Sanemi’s chest was her only answer, as her lover lifted his head from where it’d been thrown back against his pillow as he basked in the feeling of Y/N’s silky cavern milking him for all he was worth.

 “Baby, I don’t think you could do wrong if you tried,” he grunted, his voice trembling with his unbounded desire.

She was inclined to agree, because god, even after months of being fucked by him, none of those previous encounters could compare to the way he was making her feel right then, his warm, sturdy hands braced on her hips as he helped guide her up and down his hot, steely length, the room filling with the sound of their skin clapping as she bounced and ground against him.

Y/N’s hands found his at her waist and she pulled them away, in favor of tightly interlocking their fingers as she increased her pace, bringing herself up off his cock before dropping her hips back down again for a needy grind, her walls fluttering around him with each push and pull against him.

She fell forward slightly, pressing the back of his hands down into the mattress and holding them there, just over his head, their fingers tightly interlocked together. She shifted, so that she could brace a little of her weight into him, pressing them even harder into the soft bed as she increased her pace, rolling into him faster as she circled her hips around him.

With his hands pinned above his head, and his eyes squeezed tightly shut as a needy moan echoed from his throat, Y/N swore she’d never seen sight more beautiful than that of Sanemi completely at her mercy.

“I want to finish like this,” Sanemi’s voice had an uncharacteristic desperation in it that bordered on begging, he threw his head back harder against his pillow, the tendons in his neck tensing as he groaned unrestrainedly for her. “Please, Y/N –,”

She only ground down against him harder, his pleas choking off in his throat as his fingers dug harder into her hips. “Sh-i-it,” Sanemi groaned out, his hips thrusting wildly up into her, so lost in just how deep he could reach within her vice-like, silky heat.

Guided by pure instinct, Y/N released his hands and sat up, her own drifting behind her as she began to fondle his swollen, heavy balls while she continued the relentless pull and drop of her hips up and down his throbbing cock.

“Fuck!” Sanemi bucked harshly up into her, his head pressing harder against the pillow beneath him as the muscles in his neck strained, his eyes falling shut in his bliss. One of his hands found its way to her lower abdomen, pressing down slightly so she could feel him pressing against the front wall of her core, Y/N’s voice cracking as she moaned. His other hand lowered to where they were connected, and he began to swirl his thumb around her aching clit, his ministrations causing the walls of her cunt to pulse and constrict around him as her end neared.

Y/N’s thighs began to burn with exhaustion as she bounced up and down his cock, but she could not stop, not until she reached the dizzying height of her pleasure that was quickly coming on the harder she rode him.

Sanemi, however, appeared to sense her growing tiredness. “C’mere,” he said gruffly, one hand lifting to cup her face as the other shifted to press against the small of her back, guiding her to lay flush against him as he claimed her mouth with his own and began to thrust up into her, holding her securely against him.

Y/N groaned into his mouth, as their new position allowed Sanemi to hit a spot within that had her seeing stars as he kept her crushed against him, his tongue dancing languidly with hers. The hand on her lower back moved so that his arm could wrap around her waist and embrace her, as his other hand moved from her jaw to brush a lock of hair back that had fallen in front of her face.

“N-Nemi,” Y/N whimpered, her hips beyond her control as they dropped and rolled and ground against him, in desperate search of her release.

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” Sanemi’s voice was raspy, his arm tightening on her waist in a poor effort at restraint. “I feel it, too.”

Sanemi began thrusting up into her spasming cunt, a renewed string of curses falling from his mouth as the messy sound of Y/N’s honeyed core filled the room. Y/N felt herself begin to tighten around him, the thighs trembling against either side of his waist as she slammed herself back onto him, her cries growing louder as Sanemi brought her closer to her peak. His hips began to lose rhythm as he wildly jutted into her. Y/N’s eyes were squeezed shut as she began to babble, alternating between cries of his name and nearly incoherent pleas for more.

Sanemi’s hand found hers and brought it up against his chest, holding it tightly as his other arm cinched around her waist. “Let go for me, baby,” his voice was hoarse as he leaned up slightly to brush a kiss against her lips.

One, strong grind of her hips later, Y/N shattered around him, her inner walls seizing him like a vice as she tipped her head back and wailed for him, so pretty and so completely undone by him that she did not think she could ever be put back together and be wholly her own, without his touch forever imprinted on her skin, or upon her heart.

She knew, at that moment, as Sanemi’s grunts turned into loud, unrestrained moans as he bucked wildly into her, that running from him had always been futile, because she’d only ever been running in circles, only to find herself as she was then, right back on her knees before him, utterly his.

The difference was, she realized as he gave one last mighty push of his hips up into her still-spasming core, his seed shooting into her with blinding force, as a strangled shout-cry tore from his throat and his fingers seized around hers against his chest, that he’d been running in the same circle, too, just in the opposite direction. But now they’d run out of track to tread, and he’d smacked right into her, knocking both of them off their axes, stumbling and spinning together until they’d finally hit the ground, with only each other to face and nowhere else to run; and she was tired of running, anyways.

Because she knew, as Sanemi’s hips finally stilled against hers and she collapsed against his chest and he on the bed, leaking cock still nestled between her legs, that she loved him.

She loved him.

She loved him.

-----

Neither of them spoke for a long while, both panting hard as they caught their breaths.

“You said you think I’m possessive — maybe I am,” Sanemi said after a long moment, as the two came down from their mutual highs. “But it’s because I want to be yours. I’ve always been yours.”

He paused before continuing, his arms around her tightening. But when he spoke again, his voice was perceptibly softer, more timid, as though afraid of her rejection. “And I want you to be mine, too.” 

Let him into your heart, and he will gladly give you his.

Y/N’s hand found his at her waist, and gently, she removed it. As she brushed her lips over the calloused pads, always so soft whenever they touched her, she lifted her gaze to his.

“You are mine,” she repeated softly, before moving his hand to press against the valley between her breasts, where her heart beat strong against her sternum. “And this has always belonged to you.”

Sanemi’s cheeks burned red as he bent to graze her lips with his, his hand still pressed against her chest. So innocent and chaste was the kiss that it was easy to forget that his cock remained buried within her, his seed still gathering on the sheets beneath them as it trickled from her.

Sanemi’s thumb stroked the skin of her sternum absentmindedly. “What comes next, Y/N?” He murmured, his eyes tracing over the features of her face as she rested her cheek against his bicep. “What do you want this to be – what would make you happiest?”

Y/N thought for a moment and weighed all of the emotions that had sat heavily in her chest for the past two days – the past two years – untangling each knot and snarl that had formed to obstruct the heart of her true desire.

When she spoke, her voice was as soft as a feather.

“I want to be with you. I’ve only ever wanted to be with you. That hasn’t changed.”

Sanemi’s eyes widened with a hope she knew he’d not dare let himself feel ever since their fateful reunion at the Kizuki. “So you’ll stay? With me?”

Y/N’s answering smile was wide as she leaned up to brush a gentle kiss against his lips. “Yes, ‘Nemi. I will stay.”

And for the first time in two years, Y/N felt just as hopeful as him.

“Can I kiss you again?” Sanemi breathed, staring down at her in awe, as though he could not believe that she was real, despite having just had her in the most real way he could have.

Y/N didn’t answer, instead raising her lips to his, as she threaded her fingers through his hair to hold him close to her. Sanemi responded with a soft groan and pressed himself into her. His cock began to twitch to life within her once more as her tongue slid into his eager mouth, gliding alongside his own.

She moaned into his mouth as he began to roll into her, her legs falling to the side to accommodate his body as he settled himself between her thighs. But Sanemi’s warm, rough hands slid underneath her backside and shifted her to lay on her side next to him, her chest pressed flush against his as he began to rock gently into her.

Y/N lifted her leg so that it wrapped around his hips, and Sanemi groaned, one of his steel-like arms wrapping under her upper thigh to hold it in place. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his lips trailing along the underside of her jaw and down her throat. “Just focus on me, baby.”

The hand of the arm gripping her thigh moved to splay across her backside, pushing her against him as he rolled into her. A cracked moan broke from her throat as Sanemi began to massage her cheek in time with the slow, languid pump of his cock into her, the walls of her cunt tightening around him.

They continued to rock into one another like that, softly groaning and gasping every time Sanemi’s hips stuttered against hers, or every time Y/N’s nails sunk harder into the muscular slope of his back, so lost in the feel of the other’s body that Y/N was sure she did not know where she ended, and he began.

“Sanemi,” she cried, because the feeling of him this close, of him being this gentle, was so overwhelming to her because it was more than just fucking. This was them, raw, and unguarded, moving imperfectly against one another and letting their bodies speak in the words their mouths had not.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m here. I’m right here,” he promised, his lips brushing against hers once, twice. His arm tightened around where it gripped her upper thigh, hand splayed across her backside, as he rocked harder into her, both of their ends rapidly approaching. “I’ve got you.”

Y/N pressed her lips desperately against his, needing him to soothe the ache that grew in her core as she drew near the summit of her pleasure. She hitched her leg higher up on his hip to allow him to push deeper into her, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she felt Sanemi’s balls begin to tap against the curve of her backside as he picked up his speed.

“Come with me,” Sanemi grit out, his brow pinched as he stifled another groan. Y/N chased a bead of sweat as it rolled down his neck, mewling in agreement as she tugged him closer, pressing her chest flush against his.

“I’m close – fuck, I’m close,” Sanemi gasped, his lips crashing down against hers, his teeth tugging at her lip before he pulled away. “Are you?”

Y/N nodded desperately, as a long, high-pitched whine tore from her throat. “I wanna cum – ah – Sanemi, please, I want to cum.”

Sanemi’s hurried thrusts up into her melted into rutting, as his thick length hardly slid out of her sopping and spent heat. “Eyes on me, baby,” he managed, his fingers digging into the plush of her ass as he began to twitch inside her – a sure sign he was mere seconds from his peak.

With great effort, Y/N opened her eyes and met those violet eyes that she loved so dearly, and Y/N’s climax slammed into her with a force that had her crying out. She was the rough, coarse wave that crashed and broke around the steady rock that was Sanemi.

His free hand fumbled for hers, bringing it close against his chest, fingers tightly locked together. Her eyes still locked with his, Sanemi’s soft grunts turned to loud, wanton moans, his thrusts sloppy and jerky, as he came in time with Y/N, filling her with his hot, thick seed until it spilled over where they were connected, staining the sheets beneath them.

Sanemi did not stop pumping into her, could not, as he continued to unload within her, the hand on her ass locking her against him as his hips finally stilled against her with a final, strained cry of her name.

He collapsed against her, his full weight bearing down on her as they struggled to catch their breath. After a few moments, Sanemi shifted like he was going to pull out of her and away, but Y/N whined in protest.

“’Nemi,” Y/N panted, her arms locking around his back and holding him to her as she circled her hips against his, Sanemi hissing as she began to overstimulate him. “Please, can we stay like this for just a little longer?”

She hardly recognized the breathy, needy tone with which she spoke. For so long, she’d denied herself of any intimacy with him that extended beyond allowing him to cum in her, always pulling away and fumbling for her clothes the second his climax ended. But now, Y/N could not bear the thought of tearing herself away from him, because she belonged to him, and he finally belonged to her.

Sanemi’s hands dug into her waist as his head dropped into the crook of her shoulder to bury his face into her skin. She felt him inhale deeply, as though she was the air he needed to breath, and he nodded, apparently unable to form any words as he came down from his high.

After a few, quiet moments, the air around them only occasionally disturbed by the sound of their breathing, Sanemi answered her. “I will always want you to stay.”

-----

Y/N did not remember the last time she’d slept more peacefully than she did that night wrapped in Sanemi’s arms.

When the bright light of the sun finally broke through the gossamer-like curtains hung on the guest room window, Y/N sleepily blinked herself awake, turning to bury her face into the mattress to hide away from the bright, unrelenting light of morning. But what lay beneath her cheek was not the feather-plush soft of the luxurious mattresses the Uzuis had in every room of their summer home; it was rocky, hard muscle covered by warm, scar-speckled skin that made up the man she loved with every fiber of her being.

Sanemi groaned as he felt her face press against his upper abdomen, his hand raising to caress up her spine as he drew his other arm over his eyes to block out the sun. “’S too early,” he protested, drawing a light chuckle from Y/N.

“We have to leave soon,” she whispered, pressing a kiss against the rigid plane of his abdomen before trailing her lips down to where his cock was already beginning to stir. “Let’s at least enjoy the morning.”

Sanemi did not protest as she ducked beneath the covers to take him into her mouth, sighing happily as his hands softly stroked her hair while she bobbed up and down his length. Sanemi, however, was too impatient to feel Y/N’s walls around him once more, and lasted only a minute before he tugged her up his torso and sank her down onto him, his face buried into her neck as his teeth bit into the sensitive skin of her throat.

Y/N spent the remainder of their morning fucking herself once more on Sanemi’s stiff length, relishing the way his broad hands slid under her thighs as she rode him to lift them up so he could watch himself thrust up into her, admiring the way his cock glistened with the pleasure he helped to give her.

A couple of hours later, the group of friends loaded up their respective cars, Tengen and Obanai grumbling under the bright light of day as both fought of their mutual hangovers from the previous night’s inhibitions.

Though Y/N was set to ride with Mitsuri and Sanemi with the boys, neither of them could conceal the small, contented smiles they bore as they loaded their bags into the trunks of their cars, the pair occasionally sneaking a furtive glance at the other, smiles only broadening as their eyes met.

Just before Y/N opened the passenger door of Mitsuri’s vintage Volkswagen, she felt a pair of fingers, rough yet warm and familiar, brush shyly against her own.

“Text me when you guys get back, okay?” Sanemi murmured. On the other side of the car, Mitsuri’s jaw fell open, and her jade eyes gleamed with poorly-concealed excitement.

Y/N closed her hand around his and jerked him down, muffling his grunt of surprise as her lips met his. “I will.” She said as she released him, Sanemi’s cheeks turning pink as he grinned back at her. His hand closed around hers where it rested on the door handle of Mitsuri’s car, and pulled it open, holding it for her as she turned and lowered herself into the passenger seat.

Mitsuri practically tripped over herself as she scrambled into the driver’s seat, though she restrained herself from squealing until the door was shut safely behind her. Keys turning in the ignition, the pink-haired girl turned to her best friend, nearly vibrating with excitement.

“Tell me everything. Now.”

Y/N laughed as the pinkette pulled out of the manicured driveway of the Uzuis’ lake house, and she began to fill her friend in on everything that had changed between her and her childhood best friend.

-----

The lightness that Y/N felt leaving the lake house lasted the entire drive back home with Mitsuri in the latter’s car, her chest feeling full and warm as the two scream-sang along to every song on Mitsuri’s playlist.

The sun was nearly setting by the time the pinkette parked her car in front of their apartment building, the pair having stopped to grab sushi for dinner for themselves. As the two exited Mitsuri’s car, Y/N noted Shinobu’s small, purple sports car parked at the far end of the lot and smiled to herself, knowing her friend was home, where they could talk. As they’d picked up their to-go order from the sushi restaurant down the street, Y/N had made the last-minute decision to grab one of Shinobu’s favorite rolls, having resolved to talk to her other roommate and work things out between them.

Not that there was truly anything for them to work out – Y/N had concluded she didn’t blame her friend for what had happened; Y/N had made her own choices, as had Douma.

The pair of best friends giggled as they walked up the steps to their apartment, takeout bags in hand, ready for a night of relaxing on the couch with sushi, some facemasks, and trashy reality television. Y/N’s key unlocked the front door, which swung open to a darkened apartment. Her fingers flipped the kitchen light on and the sushi bag in her hands dropped to the floor.

For there, sprawled on the linoleum by the kitchen counter in a puddle of her own vomit and blood, was Shinobu.

She wasn’t moving; it was hard to tell if she was breathing.

Everything seemed to slow down and speed up all at once. One moment, the two young women were laughing and talking as they returned from a life-changing weekend at the lake, and the next, Mitsuri was screaming while Y/N heard nothing but the strong roar of panic echoing in her ears. 

“Call an ambulance!” Y/N managed to bite out at her hyperventilating friend as she dropped to her knees beside her unconscious roommate, her hands shaking as she tried to feel for a pulse. “Mitsuri!”

As the pinkette scrambled for her phone, Y/N took note of the odd violet hue of Shinobu’s vomit and the sickly-sweet scent of flowers and synthetic fruit.

With trembling hands, Y/N brushed back a strand of her friend’s inky-violet hair that had fallen in front of her face. There, mixed within the dried blood beneath Shinobu’s nostrils, was the faintest trace of lilac.

Wisteria.

Over the roaring in her ears, Y/N vaguely heard Mitsuri crying into the phone with the emergency dispatch operator.

“She’s twenty,” Mitsuri sobbed. “We don’t know what happened, but it might’ve been an overdose. But there’s blood, too.”

Her pink-haired friend was right; there was an alarming amount of blood, dark and sticky, that had pooled beneath Shinobu’s head. Y/N suspected she’d hit her head on the edge of the counter, either because she’d tripped or because she’d passed out and hadn’t been able to catch herself, but Y/N couldn’t tell where the wound was, and she was too afraid to risk moving her friend’s head and worsening her injuries.

“Is she breathing?” It took a moment for Y/N to register that Mitsuri’s question was directed at her. “Y/N is she breathing?” 

“I don’t know,” she whispered, “I don’t know, Mitsuri.” And, because she was panicked and scared, and utterly useless, Y/N began to cry. “I can’t tell; my hands won’t stop shaking.”

“I can’t tell.”

-----

Half an hour later, Y/N stood against the wall of the small waiting area in the emergency room, leg bouncing in agitation and anxiety. Beside her, Mitsuri sat with her head in her hands as the two waited for any news as to their friend’s condition.

The outer doors to the emergency room slid open and the girls were joined by Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma, the latter of whom was crying softly to herself. A few moments later, Obanai arrived, face severe, aiming straight for the pinkette as he crouched before her, covering the hands she had buried in her hair with his own and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. 

The waiting room had become too crowded for Y/N’s frazzled nerves to handle. She tore herself from the wall against which she had been fixed, opting instead to pace the hallway between the waiting area and the main hospital. Makio may have called her name, but the roaring in Y/N’s head had become too loud, the jitter under her skin too incessant, for her to remain still in the waiting room a second longer. 

Y/N finally exhausted herself enough to slump back against the wall, the passing sounds and beeps of the hospital only faint echoes in her ears. But then there were thunderous footsteps walking quickly toward her, and Y/N’s eyes lifted just in time to see Sanemi’s stormy face as he reached for her. 

He crushed her against him, one hand buried in her hair as his other arm wrapped around her waist, holding her to him as though he needed to assure himself that she was real and there, and not the one getting her stomach pumped on the other side of the sealed emergency room doors. 

His lips pressed hard against the top of her head, Sanemi inhaling deeply before pulling back from her, his hand rising to cup beneath Y/N’s jaw so he could tilt her face up toward him, those lilac eyes scanning her frantically for any sign of external injury.

“I didn’t know,” he said hoarsely against the crown of her head as he pulled her back against him. “Tengen called -- only said an ambulance was being sent to your apartment – that a twenty-year-old woman had overdosed.” 

Y/N shook her head against his chest, breathing in his comforting scent and allowing it to still the jitters crawling beneath her skin. “I haven’t used in a week, Sanemi.” 

Her – boyfriend? paramour? exhaled shakily, his arms tightening around her. “I was scared. After last night, I-” Sanemi swallowed thickly. “I was worried you regretted it.” 

Y/N closed her eyes as she let herself melt against his stabilizing warmth. “Not you,” she murmured, “Never you.”

-----

An hour later, Y/N stood in her kitchen, chest heaving as she looked at the wreckage of Shinobu’s bender scattered around her.

There was an empty bottle of peach vodka lying on its side on the floor. Lilac residue was smeared on the kitchen counter, likely the result of Shinobu having snorted it the night before. A puddle of her vomit, streaked with purple, still lingered where the petite woman had lost consciousness. 

Sanemi came around the kitchen counter, his hand resting at the small of Y/N’s back as he guided her away from the cabinet below. He bent to pull out a bottle of bleach and a roll of paper towels, as well as a pair of cleaning gloves that he pulled over his scarred, callused hands, and he set to work scrubbing at the floor. 

Y/N watched him for a long moment before she moved to begin rounding up all of the bottles of liquor and wine that had been stashed in their apartment. One by one, she dumped their contents into the sink and chucked the empty containers into the garbage.

Next, Y/N gathered up all traces of Shinobu’s Wisteria from their various stash spots around the apartment. It had taken her a while to hunt through pharmacology student’s room, given that the young woman had become rather adept at squirreling away those poisonous little pills. Over the course of an hour, Y/N had managed to locate every little baggie and loose pill shoved under her friend’s mattress, tucked into her sock drawer, and slotted between pages of textbooks she’d never opened. 

She’d stood over the toilet where she’d flushed them for a long while after the last of those lilac devils had swirled down the drain. It was not until a pair of warm, comforting arms encircled her from behind that Y/N was aware of the tears slipping hot and fast down her cheeks. 

Sanemi pressed a soft kiss into the back of her neck as she cried, allowing her to press her face into his muscled forearm until her sobs had quieted, before he turned her around. He’d kept one hand on her shoulder as he leaned to tug her shower curtain open and turn the water on, before returning to her. Slowly, and with more gentleness than Y/N thought she deserved, Sanemi began to undress her, chucking her vomit and sweat-stained clothes into her laundry bin before helping her into the shower.

Y/N stood numbly under the hot spray of the water as she waited, the sounds of Sanemi’s belt and pants hitting the cold tile of the floor before he parted the curtain and stepped into the bathtub with her. 

The moment he’d re-oriented the shower curtain to close them in, Y/N melted against him. Sanemi’s hands came to her waist, gently turning her so that her back was to him, as though he knew she was losing the battle against the weariness that had seeped into her bones. His arms locked tightly around her, he guided them to sit on the floor of the bathtub. He situated Y/N between his legs, her back resting against his chest. One arm was wrapped around her upper shoulders, holding her to him, as the other wound around her waist from behind, gripping her hand in his. His lips found the juncture between her shoulder and neck, brushing softly against her wet skin once before he buried his face there and held her, as the hot water beat down upon them. 

They stayed like that until Y/N could no longer tell whether the water on her face was from her tears or the spray of the shower nozzle above. 

Only after the water had begun to cool and their fingers had turned wrinkled did Sanemi help her stand, reaching behind her to shut the shower off. 

Sanemi stepped out first, grabbing a towel from where it hung on the back of her bathroom door, to secure around his waist. He then produced two more from Y/N’s bathroom closet – her two fluffiest – and held them under his arm as he used his free hand to help Y/N out of her shower to stand on her bathmat.

Had she’d any tears left, Y/N was certain they would have been shed as Sanemi gently toweled her hair and body try before he scooped her up and carried her to her bedroom.

Sanemi set her carefully on the edge of her bed before leaving to return to her bathroom once more. Y/N’s eyes were fixed blankly on the carpeted floor of her room, her mind blank and that howling numbness that had become her constant companion over the last two months threatening to swallow her whole once more. She barely registered Sanemi’s return to her room until he, in all of his shower-dampened glory, knelt at her feet, with a bottle of her favorite lotion in hand.

Wordlessly, Sanemi pumped some of the lotion into his hand and began to gently massage it into her skin, starting at her feet and working his way up her legs. Once he’d reached the tops of her thighs, he repeated the action once more, carefully taking the time to ensure that he worked the lotion on every part of her body. With every stroke of his hand against her skin, Sanemi chased away that encroaching numbness, replacing it with the warmth of his adoration and love for her.

“Have you eaten today?” Sanemi’s voice broke the comfortable silence that had settled over them.

Y/N shook her head. “But I’m not hungry – really,” She urged as Sanemi opened his mouth in protest. “Can we just – just lay here?” She patted the soft down of her bed, motioning for him to join her.

Sanemi nodded, rising to turn towards her dresser to pull out a pair of underwear for her and digging out a pair of briefs of his that he’d let her borrow as pair of shorts after one of their earlier trysts.

Once both had pulled their respective pairs of underwear on, Sanemi squeezed himself into the small crevice between her twin bed and her bedroom wall and held out his arm in an invitation that Y/N did not hesitate to accept.

She curled against his bare chest, warm against her own naked skin, and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as she sighed deeply, inhaling his scent and allowing it to wash over her, and still her mind.

Sanemi’s hands absentmindedly stroked her hair, his lips periodically pressing against her hairline as she began to doze in his arms. Just before the exhaustion commanded her to fall into sleep’s embrace, she spoke.

“I meant what I said earlier – I haven’t used Wisteria in over a week. I stopped drinking. I’m done, Sanemi. I swear it.”

Her face was pressed against his pectoral, so she did not see the tears of quiet, exhausted relief that filled his eyes as he pressed his lips against her forehead once more. “I know. Kyo mentioned on the way back that you’d been dealing with withdrawal for the last week. That it was why you weren’t answering your phone.”

Sanemi’s arms tightened around her as she began to drift off. “I’m proud of you, Y/N.” And then, he added in a voice so quiet that she almost didn’t hear it before sleep’s sweet lull pulled her under. “Thank you for choosing to stay.”

-----

She slept soundly through the night once more, until Sanemi awoke her in the early hours of the morning with his head between her legs, Y/N gaining consciousness just in time to come on his tongue. In the throes of her climax, Sanemi replaced its position at her entrance with his fingers as he dragged it up her messy folds so he could suckle at her clit.

Sleepily, Y/N clawed at his back, an impatient demand for more falling in the form of a whine from her lips, and Sanemi complied. He turned her onto her stomach and his cock found its way between her thighs as he began to fuck her from behind, his hips setting a leisurely pace as they slapped against her ass, Y/N’s soft moans only growing in their vibrato as he brought her to orgasm yet again, his warmth flooding her shortly after as he sighed her name.

They remained in bed for another few hours, talking and holding one another, trading lazy kisses and gentle caresses because they could not get enough of touching each other like they were right then – soft and meaningful, because Y/N and Sanemi were now a them, rather than two people who alternated running from the other.

Sanemi, it seemed, especially couldn’t keep his hands off her, which she found amusing, given that as children, Y/N was always the one who initiated any kind of affection with him, though she suspected that his begrudging acceptance of it had really been a front to conceal his true feelings.

His hand was smoothing up and down her bare thigh as she stroked his hair, his eyelids fluttering shut against her touch, when his phone rang from its place on her nightstand.  Groaning, Sanemi blindly felt for the buzzing device, answering it only with a grunt as he kept his eyes locked on her, his hand still gliding up and down her shin.

His brow furrowed in seriousness, and he nodded, as though whomever was on the other end could actually see him, before he muttered a soft, “thanks, man,” and clicked the phone off, tossing it back onto her covers.

“That was Iguro. Shinobu is awake, and they’re allowing visitors.” His eyes were full of a quiet concern as he regarded her gently. “Are you okay to go right now?”

Y/N was already making her way out of bed, nodding. Of course she was okay to go – she needed to go, needed to assure for herself that her friend was awake and knew she was supported.

She dressed quickly, donning only a matching black workout set and sneakers before pulling a jacket over her bare shoulders. Sanemi merely tugged on the clothes he'd worn the day before.

“I’ll stop at my place on the way back,” he added, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “If you want me to stay again tonight, that is,”

Y/N turned away so he wouldn’t see the small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she quieted a laugh, so as not to make him feel embarrassed. “I want you to stay.”

Sanemi drove them, though he kept his hand firmly locked around hers the entire ride. Ever since they’d began their physical relationship back at the start of the summer, she’d been adamant that she wouldn’t allow herself to accept any affection from him if he didn’t have his cock buried inside of her while he gave it. It seemed too risky at the time, as though allowing him to care for her would blur some line she insisted had already been drawn, even though she’d been the one to hold the stick marking the ground.

Now, in hindsight, she couldn’t believe she’d denied herself of his intimacy for so long – not when it felt this good to have his steadying, grounding warmth wrapped firmly around her hand, his thumb running over her knuckles as he smoothly worked the steering wheel with his free hand.

This -- whatever this was. It was good.

-----

By the time Sanemi drove them back to her apartment, the evening sky was beginning to shift from a pale blue to a creamy orange, the sun beginning its descent towards sleep for the night.

Y/N, herself, felt an exhaustion so heavy, she wondered whether it had infiltrated the marrow of her bones. Her head ached slightly after a solid hour of crying with Shinobu, the latter offering apology after apology as Y/N held her trembling form close, shushing her with assurances that she’d never blamed the pixie-like girl for what Douma had chosen to do just a few weeks earlier.

Shinobu had confessed she hadn’t been trying to harm herself – not really, anyways. Rather, she’d been so overcome by her guilt and self-loathing that she’d stopped keeping track of just how much alcohol she’d been drinking or how much of her accursed Wisteria she’d been ingesting. The cut on the side of her forehead truly hadn’t been that deep, but it had been the result of a fall she couldn’t break, just as Y/N expected.

Y/N had sat, curled beside her roommate and dear friend, for another couple of hours, until Giyuu materialized in the doorway, deep-set shadows under his eyes and breathing hard, as he took in Shinobu’s vulnerable form, hooked up to various hospital machines, with a thick bandage wrapped around her head.

Y/N had quietly untangled herself from her friend and quietly exited the room, patting Giyuu’s shoulder as she passed him, though the ravenette did not acknowledge her, far too focused on his crying girlfriend as he wrapped her in his arms and held her tightly against his chest.

As they’d walked back to his car, Sanemi told her that Giyuu had driven straight through the night from his sister’s the moment he’d received word of Shinobu’s condition, too frantic to be by her side to even stop for food or rest.

Sanemi swung by his apartment, as he promised, and emerged a few minutes later with a bag full of his clothes and toiletries before he drove the rest of the short drive back to her shared apartment with Mitsuri and Shinobu. Her best friend, however, had decided to stay over at Obanai’s, and given that her other roommate was unlikely to be discharged before the following day, Y/N and Sanemi had her apartment to themselves once again.

After a dinner of vegetable omlettes, prepared by Sanemi, the pair fell back into Y/N’s tiny twin bed, both exhausted from the excitement and stress of the previous four days. Y/N, in particular, had felt more emotionally zapped than she had in a long while, having spent the majority of the holiday weekend crying for one reason or another, and wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her evening wrapped securely in Sanemi’s arms as she listened to his heartbeat lull her to sleep.

She’d stripped herself of her clothes, leaving herself in only her thong, as she pressed herself against Sanemi’s bare chest. Sanemi, however, could sense her weariness, and so they did no more than kiss every now and then, both merely content to simply hold the other and bask in their shared warmth.

“Thank you for being here for me – yesterday and today,” Y/N murmured quietly, her lips grazing his collarbone.

Sanemi’s fingers brushed under her chin as he tilted her face up to meet her eyes. “I told you already, I’m all in. Whatever it is you want from me, I’ll be it.”

Y/N smiled wryly at him as her eyes roamed his face in consideration. “So, does that mean we’re official? Are we boyfriend-girlfriend?”

His responding smirk made her thighs squeeze together as he leaned in close to her face. “You can call me whatever you want, baby,” he kissed her nose before lowering his lips to hers, though he held back, teasingly. “And for however long as you want.”

She giggled as he kissed her and it felt like coming home, and Y/N couldn’t remember the last time she felt like she’d had one of those.

He broke away from her after a moment, hand coming to a rest against the side of her head while his thumb stroked her cheek, a profundity creeping into his eyes.

“I love you, Y/N. With all my heart.”

Y/N thought her heart would fly out of her chest as Sanemi repeated the words she’d uttered to him nearly two years prior. She thought hearing them would cause her to clam up, that they would send her careening back to the dark, lonely hole she’d spent the last half of her university experience trying desperately to claw out of, but they did not.

Instead, Sanemi’s words – her words – mended something within her that she’d long thought to have been irreparably broken. There was no emptiness left in her, no gnawing wound; it had been healed by him and his earnestness, and she only felt her love for him. Love that made her feel pretty, soft, and new, mending her broken heart with its golden light.

“I never stopped loving you,” Y/N’s voice grew thick with the tears that filled her eyes. “Please know that. No matter how mad I was, no matter how low I felt, I always knew I loved you – and I still do.”

Sanemi’s answering grin was so beautiful, so bright, that she wondered why she’d waited so long after making up to say it. His smile made her feel as though she could soar through the sky, breathless and wild and free.

Once upon a time, she’d believed love was pretty; she imagined it would be soft, pink, and shiny and make her feel warm and pretty in return.

Then, as an adult, she realized that love was pretty, but not in the way she’d imagined it would be when she listened to stories of princesses and their knights as a little girl. Love was a blur of many hues, some soft and bright, but some dark and harsh too, melding together to create a kaleidoscope of light and shadows. And it was because of this phantasmagoria of joy and pain and laughter and sadness that love was so beautiful, and so worth fighting for, because in the end, finding herself in the arms of the only person she’d ever loved outweighed any of the heartache which preceded it, and it would be worth whatever heartache was sure to come.

Because loving Sanemi Shinazugawa was worth it all.

EPILOGUE – 2 months later

The sun was golden and bright and the air as crisp as an apple as the couple de-boarded their train at the small station in their hometown, hands clasped tightly together. The blazing heat of summer had quickly given way to October, and the autumn harvest brought with it a new tiding of ruby and ochre yellow leaves.

Y/N was grateful for the loose sweater she’d worn — stolen from Sanemi’s dresser one day several weeks earlier when she’d insisted she needed his scent to take back to her apartment with her, to help her get through the first wave of reading and papers she’d been slammed with. Initially, Sanemi had protested with a grumbled “fuck off,” as she’d tried to lay claim to his favorite sweater.

He’d change his tune rather quickly, however, when his girlfriend then donned the garment whilst giving him what he later called “the best head of his life.” And so, the worn, dark gray sweater had remained safely in Y/N’s care.

As the train doors slid shut behind them, Y/N took a deep, steadying breath, mentally preparing herself for the reason they’d risen early that Saturday morning to return to their sleepy hometown.

The gentle squeeze of Sanemi’s hand around hers as he brought their interlocked fingers to his mouth for a sweet kiss, helped abate some of her nerves and grounded her.

“You ready?” He murmured, his eyes warm and so full of love and concern for the woman beside him that Y/N felt her heart lurch.

She smiled at him, softly, and rose on her toes to press a chaste kiss against his lips. “I’m ready.”

The advantage of living in a small town — no more than a village, really — was that nearly everything was within walking distance, as long as one did not mind a few steep hills here and there. And so, the couple set off from their town’s small train station, towards the grocer to pick up flowers — two bouquets, one for each grave that marked the final resting spot for their loved ones.

Autumnal arrangements in hand, the pair walked in a comfortable silence up the hill leading to the cemetery.

“Genya’s with the rest of my family,” Sanemi said quietly as they passed the iron-gated entrance that gave way to the sprawl of headstones that lined the grassy hilltop. “They’re just over here.”

Y/N nodded, squeezing Sanemi’s hand in assurance as her boyfriend led her up a small trail to a row of graves gathered beneath an old willow tree.

When Sanemi had shared with her that he made this bi-weekly sojourn to visit and lay flowers on the graves of his family, Y/N had cried. She’d held him tightly, offering a litany of apologies for not being there for him more, for the fact he’d been doing it alone.

He wouldn’t hear of it, insisting that she hadn’t anything to apologize for, which only made her cry harder.

A hush fell over the pair as they drew up upon the Shinazugawa family graves, Y/N’s heart breaking a little more as her eyes scanned each name, the life spans etched into the stones far too short.

Wordlessly, Sanemi plucked a flower from the bouquet he carried and laid one at the base of each gravestone, repeating the process until no more flowers remained. Once the last flower was placed, just over Genya’s grave, Sanemi straightened, gripping Y/N’s hand tightly in his own as his other lifted to wipe at his eyes.

“He’d be over the moon, ya know, that we’re finally together,” Sanemi murmured, his voice hoarse with his grief, nodding at the last stone bearing the name of his beloved brother. “He used to give me all kinds of shit for not making a move sooner.”

“He always was wise beyond his years,” Y/N sniffed quietly, her own tears slipping freely down her cheeks. “He used to pester me about it, too – would always ask if I was single, and if I said ‘yes,’ he’d mention that you were also single.” She huffed a watery laugh as the image of the boy’s smiling face flashed through her memory. “Though, I think he did it more so to tease me, because I’d always turn as red as a tomato whenever he’d mention it.”

Sanemi smiled softly as he squeezed her hand. “It’s a family trait, I s’ppose.”

The couple remained at the site of Sanemi’s family’s graves for a little while longer, the last living Shinazugawa tucking his girlfriend tightly into his side as he held her close, her warmth helping to keep him anchored here, to life, rather than wishing he slumbered beneath the hardening ground with his family.

Eventually, they agreed to make their way toward the other grave that had drawn them there, Y/N taking a deep, steadying breath as she prepared herself to visit her mother’s final resting place for the first time since her death.

“I think the map said she’s over this way,” Y/N nodded at a small, winding path that led down a gentle hill to the south of the Shinazugawa plot. “I remember I wanted her over there by the walnut tree – she loved them in the autumn.”

Sanemi nodded and let her lead the way, her fingers clutching tightly around the bouquet in her hands as she drew nearer to the tree which marked her mother’s plot, her stomach twisting with anticipation.

Because she knew, the moment her eyes settled on the stone with her mother’s name and dates of birth and death, that reality would hit her all over again; but she persisted, for the sake of her mother, who’d loved her more than anything.

“Mr. Shinazugawa!” A voice called, and both looked over to see the old cemetery caretaker waving in greeting as the pair made their way towards the section where Y/N’s mother rest.

“Good morning, Mr. Urokodaki,” Sanemi answered, nodding respectfully in greeting. “I can’t believe they have you working on the weekends.”

The grandfatherly caretaker chuckled. “Only the departed sleep; I do not.” He shifted the rake he was holding from one hand to another as he wiped his brow.  “It’s been a few weeks since I last saw you!”

“School has kept me busy, sir.” Sanemi’s hand around hers squeezed and Y/N smiled softly.

“Well, I had a feeling I’d be seeing you soon, so I went ahead and cleared any leaves off Mrs. Y/L/N’s grave for you – and I took the liberty of clearing out the flowers you brought last time.”

Y/N’s breath died in her throat as she looked between the old man and her boyfriend, her eyes wide.

Mr. Urokodaki appeared to mistake her shock for confusion. “He’s such a kind lad, your friend!” The old man smiled warmly at Sanemi, before continuing his explanation to her. “He brings flowers not just for his family, but for a woman he knew growing up – like clockwork, every two weeks, for the last year. That’s why I was worried when he didn’t show up last week!”

Sanemi chuckled softly. “I’m back to the regular schedule now, sir!” And he bid the old caretaker farewell. He turned back to his girlfriend, but froze at the expression on her face, mouth slightly open and eyes as round as saucers.

“Y-you, you’ve b-been,” she stuttered, her eyes welling with tears as she began to shake.

Sanemi hesitantly reached for her, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “I’m sorry. I know I should’ve asked, first, but we weren’t talking yet, and I wanted to make sure --,” Sanemi’s explanation was cut off with a small mmph! as Y/N grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and hauled his mouth down to hers.

After a long moment, she broke away. “T-this whole time, ‘Nemi — you —,” Y/N could hardly speak through her tears. Sanemi’s arms wound tightly around her waist, locking her to him as she buried her face into his neck.

Her boyfriend’s lips found her side of her head and he smiled softly into her hair. “Tch, idiot,” he said, affectionately. “I told you already — there hasn’t been a single moment that’s gone by that I haven’t loved you.”

“And I loved her, too.” He added quietly after a moment.

Sanemi’s words only served to make her cry harder, her arms tightening around his neck as she poured every ounce of her love and gratitude into the force with which she hugged him tightly against her.

Y/N couldn’t stop herself from peppering his face with kisses, as Sanemi’s smile stretched wide across his face. The brilliance of his happiness was nearly blinding, but Y/N knew she would never desire to look away from it – from him.

Y/N pulled back to study his face, her hand coming to rest against the side that bore his scars, her thumb gently stroking the one that crossed his nose. “I love you,” she whispered. The tears still shone in her eyes, but beneath them lay a fierce sincerity. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

His lilac irises glimmered with his own emotion at her words, and his hand reached to intertwine with hers once more, the other lifting to brush the last, errant tear that escaped down her cheek.

“C’mon,” he said thickly after a moment, “Don’t wanna keep your Ma waiting.”

Cries. Thanks for reading!

[unfinishedslurs]

bodyswap (steddie)

So, they beat Vecna. Nancy shoots him full of lead, El tears him apart from the inside, and Steve and Robin burn this version of the Creel House down with him in it. It’s over. It’s finally, finally over.

Steve ignores the reopened wounds in his side, racing to get back to Dustin and Eddie before the gates close forever. The ground rumbles again and all three of them stumble, Robin taking his hand and yanking him along when he falters. 

“You can pass out when we get topside!” She screams at him, and he tries to give her a thumbs up before he wraps that hand around his bleeding torso.

They get to the trailer park, but Dustin and Eddie aren’t where they’re supposed to be. Steve almost rips Robin’s arm out of her socket when he turns around and runs. 

“Dustin,” he bellows. There are dead demobats everywhere, and the mass of them on the ground thickens in a particular direction. He heads that way with a sinking feeling in his gut. “Dustin! We need to fucking move!”

“Steve!” He hears Dustin wail, and all self preservation leaves him as he bolts, landing heavily on his knees at Dustin’s side and immediately checking him over for injuries.

“Are you okay?” He gasps, holding his tearstained face in his hands. “Where are you hurt? Show me.”

Dustin shakes his head, crying harder, and that’s when Steve notices the limp body right in front of him. 

Eddie coughs up blood. “Wow, Harrington,” he grins, “nice to see that you care.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” It’s bad. Steve goes into preservation mode, stripping off his jacket and shirt and using them to press down on the many, many bites littering Eddie’s body. He senses Robin and Nancy catch up behind him, and hears Nancy gasp.

“What do you need?” She asks, dropping down on Eddie’s other side.

“Robin and Dustin need to find a new way to get through the portal,” he says, looking over at them. “I can’t carry him and use the rope.”

“Rope’s gone, anyway,” Dustin mutters. “He cut it.”

“You cut the rope?”

Eddie shrugs as much as he can. “Seemed..” he coughs again, red and wet, “…like a good idea…at the time.”

“Stupid,” Dustin corrects angrily. “It was really fucking stupid.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Nancy says frantically. Robin nods, and takes Dustin away swiftly. Steve files Dustin’s limp in the back of his mind for later. “What do I need to do?”

“Help me keep him from bleeding out,” Steve says as he gathers Eddie into his arms. Eddie turns and nuzzles his face into Steve’s chest. It’s weird, but at least he’s alive to do it. “I might need help walking, too.”

“Right.” She examines him worriedly. “On three?”

He heaves Eddie up on the count of three, and Eddie whines, long and pained. “Sorry,” Steve gasps, the wounds on his side tearing. “Sorry.”

“S’kay,” Eddie mumbles, closing his eyes. He doesn’t open them again, and Steve jostles him.

“Hey, no passing out on me, got it? Keep those eyes open for me.”

The last thing he can remember is feeling Eddie’s blood mixing into his, their open wounds pressed together. Then he blacks out.

He wakes up in a hospital bed.

Dustin is beaming at him, teary and happy like Steve’s never seen him before. Not even when he agreed to play one campaign with the scoops troop, and admitted at the end that Dungeons and Dragons wasn’t that bad. Too much math and writing and thinking for him, it made his head hurt, but not, like, awful. 

Steve thinks he’d wake up in a million hospital beds if it meant Dustin always smiled like this. 

“—Robin’s with Steve, we’ve been taking shifts. Well, the rest of us have. She hasn’t actually left his side. He’s woken up a couple of times, like you, but you both fall right back asleep after,” Dustin’s saying, and Steve blinks, foggy. 

“…Steve?”

“Yeah, he collapsed after he carried you out. Went septic, because he didn’t take care of himself again like an idiot and his bites got infected.”

“Wait,” Steve says. “Is there another Steve? Were you hiding another Steve behind my back? Where’s Eddie?”

Dustin stares at him. “You are Eddie.”

“S’not funny, Henderson. I just woke up from a fuckin’ coma, I don’t need this shit right now.”

“Did the bats eat your brains?” He demands. “Shit, do you have brain damage? What’s wrong with you?”

Steve pouts. “That’s not funny, you know I do.” Dustin’s seen him through his fair share of migraines, knows more about what to do and what exactly causes them than Steve, probably. The perks of getting your ass kicked in front of the smartest eighth graders on the planet.

“They gotcha on the good stuff, huh kid?” A man says from the other side of his bed. Steve whips around, only just realizing that this guy is also holding his hand. There’s multiple hand-holdings going on here, which he knows is normal for hospitals but doesn’t know why this random stranger is doing it. Does he know Dustin? Is this the other Steve?

“Who’re you?”

He looks hurt by this, which makes Steve feel like a monster. But his brain won’t work, he’s definitely high on some kind of painkillers, Dustin is being confusing, and he’s tired. 

“That’s your Uncle Wayne,” Dustin reminds him. 

“I don’t have an uncle,” Steve replies, frowning. His parents are both only children, as far as he’s aware, and they don’t have any friends that would call themselves his uncle. Still, the name sounds familiar. “Doesn’t Eddie have an Uncle Wayne?”

“What the hell are you going on about?” Uncle Wayne asks. 

“You’re Eddie,” Dustin insists, confused and somewhat panicked. Now he knows how Steve feels. 

“No I’m not.” Steve scowls, sick of whatever game he’s playing to fuck with Steve’s head. “I’m Steve.”

Dustin’s eyes widen, and Steve gets the sinking feeling that something is very, very wrong. 

The door slams open.

“Dustin!” Robin hollers, eyes wild. “Something is wrong with Dingus! That’s not my dingus!”

“Robbie!” He says excitedly, and tries to sit up. Which goes poorly for him. Ow. 

She looks at him, and a diamonds worth of emotions crosses her face at once. “…Steve?”

“Yes,” he cheers. At least someone knows who he is. 

“How did you know?” Dustin demands. 

“I’d know that drugged up puppy-dog look anywhere,” Robin replies, eyes still on Steve. “Plus, there’s a guy in Steve’s body trying to tell Nancy what kind of campaign he could make out of this.”

“My body?” Steve asks, horrified, just as that Wayne guy says, “Now hol’ up just one second—“

Robin pulls a compact mirror out of her pocket and approaches the bed with caution. 

Wayne is ushered out, still loudly demanding answers for what the hell is going on with his nephew. Steve wishes he had them. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Robin says with a grin. “This is great.”

“Literally how,” Steve deadpans. 

“Well maybe not great for you, but I’m about to have the time of my life. Eddie, quick, say something nerdy.”

“What,” Eddie says flatly. It’s weird to see his expressions on Steve’s face. His face shouldn’t look like that, shouldn’t move like that. 

“C’mon,” she urges, “I wanna hear Steve’s voice talk about dnd, or your shitty music, or the moral majority.”

“Hey!” Steve objects. “We do talk about the moral majority.”

“Yeah, but we’re always serious about it. I wanna hear Munson give one of his tabletop speeches.”

Eddie looks baffled, which looks so different from the face Steve makes when he’s confused. It’s got the bare bones of it, but the finer details are off, trying to use a face that isn’t his. It’s creepy. Robin must agree, because she shudders a little. 

“You, Steve Harrington, talk about the moral majority?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended, at the same time Robin says, “Oh, you should hear him. It’s incredible.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Eddie answers, and Steve huffs, throwing his hands up as much as he can when he’s stuck in a hospital bed. Which means he basically just makes a little gesture and hopes it gets the message across. 

“I don’t see what’s so shocking about it! A bunch of assholes declared that my kids were in a cult. They were going to hunt you down. Why would I be on their side?”

“I dunno, Stevie,” Eddie says, eyes glinting. “I guess it’s just a shock to me that the straight, rich-boy jock would have something to say about it. What’re they teaching you in those churches?”

He can’t quite stop the grimace that flashes across his face, meeting Robin’s eyes almost on instinct. Eddie’s eyebrows jut up. 

“What’d I say?”

“I haven’t been to church in two years, man,” Steve admits, avoiding the other glaring assumption. “Once you have to save the lives of kids from monsters that shouldn’t exist, God doesn’t really seem that great.”

It was for the better, really, that Steve had given up. No amount of praying or bargaining made him forget how Jonathan Byers’s hand felt in his as they ran for their lives. It didn’t stop the monsters from coming back either. 

Still, he hadn’t really stopped believing until Robin came out to him. He looked at her, this scared, brave girl who spit in the face of their torturers, the girl who Steve was pretty sure was his best friend, and quietly came to terms with the fact that if she was going to hell, there was never a god to begin with. 

Robin had cried when he told her that. 

Eddie is staring at him, eyes wide and searching. It keeps tripping him up, how different his own face is when someone else is wearing it. 

“You’d think seeing hell would make anyone a believer,” he says, voice wry. “You keep surprising me.”

Steve fidgets, staring down at his legs. “It was just…it was always a lose-lose situation, you know? Either I stop going to church and go to hell, or I do what they want and end up there anyway. I can’t be what they want me to be, so why even try? There’s no point.”

When he looks up again, he meets Robin’s eyes first. She looks achingly fond, smiling at him as she gives his hand a squeeze. He gives a small smile back, and looks at Eddie. 

He’s wide-eyed, surprise coloring every inch of his face. Or, well, Steve’s face. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, that’s— that's exactly it.”

“Dude, does Jonathan scare you?”

“What?”

“Your body, like, goes haywire around him. He checked my—your—the injuries I’m currently sporting and I thought I was gonna die.”

Steve’s face heats up. “I’m not scared of Jonathan.”

“It’s ok, Steve, you can tell me the truth,” Eddie says, only a little bit of mockery in his tone. “I’ll protect you from Big Bad Byers.”

He closes his eyes in mortification. “I’m not scared,” he stresses, “of Jonathan Byers.”

“Really? Because I wasn’t joking about thinking I was dying. Your heart goes crazy around…him…” Eddie trails off, eyes widening as he clocks the blush spreading down Steve’s neck. 

Fuck Eddie’s pale skin, seriously. Steve’s tan enough that people barely notice, but Eddie seems like he spends a sunny day sitting in his room working on song lyrics or campaign notes. He wants his fucking body back. 

Shit, he’s in Eddie’s body, and Eddie just found out he’s queer. He’s a queer man in Eddie’s body. He’s going to think Steve’s some kind of perv, or using his dick, or…or…

“Byers?” Eddie finally says. “Of all the men in the world, Byers is the one you pick?”

Steve’s eyes pop open from where he’d squeezed them shut. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

[dayfalwastaken]

Notable Slenderman designs from over the years

Something Awful: As the users of the original Create Paranormal Images thread took to calling him, "Poo Poo", the first Slendy on this list is sort of a composite variant of his first depictions. After Victor Surge had made "the Slender Man" people started creating their own photos and a couple even drew him. Designs varied, but many featured arms that turned into tentacles or tree branches, and blank faces with either few or very pronounced facial features. These first drawings gave me the impression that Slendy was a creature that attempted to blend in and look human, but if examined its nonhuman aspects would become apparent almost immediately, empty face notwithstanding. As such, while his suit gives the impression of a well-dressed man, if one looks at it from a small distance they'll note the lack of buttons, pockets and other such accessories, so in a way the suit is like a second skin as opposed to actual clothes. Merely a disguise.

Marble Hornets: The Operator! Version that got many people into the Slenderman mythos, the Marble Hornets rendition streamlined the many variations of the Something Awful forum into a simple yet iconic design. This guy is very tall, and makes it clear that he's the furthest thing from human. Proportion-wise, his torso is not even half of his total height, while his arms almost reach the ground. Weirdly enough, his hands don't seem to have fingers? And look to be morphed into the suit, though they could be wearing fingerless gloves. He has a straight upper body and shoulders, and in most entries has barely if any shadows on his face to enunciate human features. As in, most of the time his face is completely blank, although there are entries where you can spot the outlines of a nose, mouth and eye sockets.

TribeTwelve: To me, the Administrator is a more grounded (heh) Slenderman. If you ignore the times he's shown to tower over humans, this guy, while tall, isn't abnormally long. He even has human-looking skin and visible eye sockets! With regular proportions for a Slenderman depiction, he's pretty tame in appearance when he doesn't have his tentacles or spider legs out. So really, he's just a regular man in black with no face, which makes him a bit more believable but still creepy as all hell.

DarkHarvest00: Gorr'rylaehotep! This dude's like a streamlined version of the Marble Hornets Operator, which was himself a streamlined Slendy. He's like an expected evolution of a live action Slenderman, where his body isn't elongated so much as it's scaled up for him to appear larger. That said, he's in no way thick, being quite thin for a big guy in a business suit. Luckily, that doesn't take away from his scare factor, as he's remains an imposing figure throughout the series... In the shots where he doesn't move too much, that is… Having fewer overall appearances in DarkHarvest00, he's also the most consistent Slendy on this list to keep a totally blank face with no features. Neato!

Slender: the Arrival: This guy isn't slender. Like, at all. He's well-built for a Slenderman and, dare I say, kind of muscular-looking. If you shorten his arms, he's just a big human, but I think that strengthens the unease you have when you see him. The others, aside from the TribeTwelve design, don't really hide their uncannyness. Once you’ve spotted them, you know there's something wrong when you look at them. The Arrival Slenderman takes it a step further. He gets all up in your face, not even stalking you all that much. He almost refuses to blend into the background, opting to terrorize you up close. He doesn't obscure the fact that he's an otherworldy entity that shouldn't exist, and I think that's great. His ragged skin and ears melted into his skull offer him an incredibly distinct look, and given how well the game uses him, he's super scary to play against. He's also among the first Slendermen to feature a red tie, which will go on to be a very popular design choice when depicting this character.

The ways people chose to draw/show/model Slendy have always intrigued me, so I made this lil thing to show off the differences in a few designs over the past decade! I hope you've enjoyed reading through this, and I'll see you next time when I'll draw and analyse five more. Have a good day!

[freezingmcxn]

i wanna draw ur version of jack sooo bad! can you explain what he looks like in A LOT of detail? like skin color hair color hair style scars and whatever? pretty please with a cherry on top!!

WHAT EYELESS JACK LOOKS LIKE IN MY AU

WAVES FRANTICALLY OH MY GODDJFJEHDBEBABA I will totally totally tell you… sorry this is so late I had stuff going on.

Jack is a black man, he has a few lighter patches scattered across his face, neck, and hands, signifying vitiligo. These patches are subtle, blending slightly into his natural skin tone but are noticeable if you’re close enough.

He has long, dark brown locs, they’re often tied up in a loose bun with whatever he can find—be it a piece of string, a rubber band, or a makeshift hair tie.

The locs are thick but have some frizz, he tries to keep up with them but it’s hard when you have nothing but gas station bathroom mirrors and an old pink comb.

His left eye socket is empty but covered partially by a drooping eyelid, a result of Bell’s palsy. The skin around it is slightly taut, and the sparse brow on that side sits lower.

His right eye is cloudy and bloodshot, the iris barely visible through a whitish haze. It still functions partially, but the cloudiness gives it a “haunted” look in my opinion. The white part of his eye has a dull, reddish hue.

His smile is pretty uneven, with the right side curving upward while the left remains slack, a result of his facial paralysis. His lips are normally chapped and slightly parted, revealing crooked, uneven teeth.

Jack’s nose is visibly crooked, with a slight bend to the left. From the side, a noticeable bump sticks out where the bone has healed awkwardly after being broken.

The right side of his face is covered with burn scars, the skin appearing slightly puckered and uneven as if “melted”. These scars start at his cheekbone and trickle down in a drip like pattern toward his jawline. Similar burn scars cover his right hand and forearm, with the skin appearing uneven and rough.

A prominent scar runs horizontally across his neck, slightly jagged and redder than the surrounding skin.

His arms, specifically his forearms and hands, bear numerous bite marks—small, circular scars, these are signs of self inflicted pain and struggle with hunger.

Random scars dot his body, varying in size and shape, but I’ll leave them up to you!

I don’t know if you wanted to know what he wears.. but, I’ll add it any way since I’ve never spoke about how he looks:

He is usually wearing one of two hoodies: one dark navy, almost black, faded from wear, and the other pure black, frayed at the cuffs and hem.

Both hoodies are oversized, often hiding his frame and giving him a slightly hunched appearance (it’s mainly because of his AWFUL posture, bros like a shrimp).

His black jeans are worn thin, with the knees almost threadbare, and his blue denim trousers are stained and patched in places.

Jack wears a pair of black, steel-toe Timberlands, they’re scuffed and dirty, the leather is cracked from constant wear. They are sturdy and practical though! He loves them dearly.

He has a long navy raincoat, worn mostly when the weather turns bad. The coat is old, with a few tears and missing buttons.

On particularly cold days or when he has to conceal his identity for some not so legal acts, he wears his dark blue mask that he made himself.

WOO OKAY THATS JACK! I cant wait to see any drawings of him, thank you for your ask :)))

[dahliarose2]

May you add me to your general taglist, I love your fics!! also, can you do number 8 for the daryl dixon x reader story prompts, I absolutely love the one bed trope 😭

SOMEDAY

summary: after a run-in with a horde of walkers, you and daryl are forced to take shelter in an abandoned cabin. only problem is; there's only one bed

A/N: ah thank you so much for your kind words lovey! <3 hope i did your request justice. i was going to do an angsty version of the one bed trope but i have a few angsty requests coming up, so i kept this one fluffy!! hope you enjoy <3 please request scenarios from my scenario list and let me know if you want to be added to my general taglist

You and Daryl panted as you ran through the forest, weaving in and out of the trees, dodging branches and tree roots that jutted out of the ground. You heard the faint sound of walkers growling as you sprinted. Your hand held onto the dagger fiercely as you attempted to watch where you were going while simultaneously looking out for oncoming walkers. You both had been separated from the group in the middle of a run when an unexpected horde of walkers forced you all to scatter in different directions,. You hoped the others were okay and managed to get away unscathed. Your worries were halted as the face of a walker obscured your vision and your thoughts as you froze, bringing your hand up to its shoulder in a flurry to push it away from you. You stumbled as you brought your sharp blade up from your side to dart it towards the eye socket of the walker. Before the point of your knife hit the skin, your eyes widened as an arrow lodged it’s way through its skull. You turned to look at Daryl as he lowered his crossbow. “I had it,” you muttered, slightly annoyed at the fact that he didn’t let you handle it yourself,

“Yeah, well now I had it,” he retorted plainly through his laboured pants from the running. You rolled your eyes i’m disbelief as he walked towards you, hand ghosting your side now as he looked around madly, before speaking. “Up there,” he blurted out hurriedly, upon the sound of the rumbling of the walkers becoming increasingly louder as the seconds passed. “There’s a cabin up there. Let’s go,” he said softly, motioning his head towards the hut that you could now see a few dozen paces away sitting perched upon top of the small, sloping hill. You whipped your head around, seeing no walkers close behind you as you let out a sigh of relief, before following Daryl who walked close to you, aiming his crossbow at the wooden house that seemed sturdy. Daryl kept shifting his gaze between the cabin and turning to spare you a glance every few moments to ensure you were safe. Once you reached the front door, Daryl gave you a knowing look, communicating just with his eyes that he would go in first to make sure it was safe,

You nodded at him as you shifted your knife into a firmer grip and an attacking stance. He stuck his three fingers up, signalling a ‘1,2,3’ motion. Once his final finger went down, Daryl kicked the front door in with his dark, black boot as dust floated around the room from the force. You stepped behind him as he scoped the room, moving swiftly on his feet as you watched. Once Daryl had established that there were no immediate threats, he moved to shut the door behind both of you and locking it swiftly. For extra protection from the horde of walkers nearby that could happen upon their safe haven for the night, Daryl grunted as he pushed a large chest of drawers to barricade the door. You eyed the surprisingly intact, dark furniture that accumulated plenty of dust in its time as Daryl checked the small kitchenette and the bedroom for people, or walkers. As Daryl scoured the place, you strolled towards the worn couch, extending your hand to trace a finger delicately over the fabric. Strangely, much of the previous owner's belongings and furnishings still lay upon the mantelpiece and the small, wooden coffee table in the middle of the quaint living room that consisted of a couch and an armchair, the room adorned with miscellaneous ornaments,

You smiled as you gazed upon the room, taking in the lobsided painting that was hung on the wall. Suddenly, Daryl emerged from the room, his crossbow lowered at his side now as you looked towards him now. "'S all clear," he muttered as you smiled at him gratefully. Whether you liked it or not, Daryl would always take on the leader and protector role when things would go wrong, especially when you were present, which you hadn't really noticed or cared to mind why. "I'm starving. I wonder if they've got anything in there," you beamed as you made your way to the kitchen. You were halted in your steps by the sound of walkers growling coming closer to the cabin. Your heart beat a little faster as you eyed the walkers stumbling towards the house, though there were only a few. "Guess we're holing up in here for the night," Daryl reasoned as you turned to look at him, both of you exchanging a slight smile, not minding much about the predicament. You only hoped the rest of the group had managed to find their own refuge for the night. Seeing as some of them had followed you and Daryl to the cabin, you figured that it had taken the attention off of your friends,

You breathed a loud sigh from all the running as you took off your jacket, throwing it lazily on the couch as you strolled to the kitchen in search of something to eat. Daryl watched you as he placed his crossbow on the ground to rest against the wall. You wasted no time, as you kneeled down, flinging things to the side as you waded through the few packets and jars. You grimaced at the fact that most of the products were gone off and rotten by now. Daryl watched you curiously as you rummaged and ransacked the cupboards as though you were a raccoon. He leaned his burly arms against the doorframe as he heard you squeal. "Finally," you yelled, with a smile, as you held up a can of soup triumphantly, the only thing that wasn't completely mouldy. Daryl rolled his eyes playfully at your easily excitable nature. “This’ll do,” you asserted as you searched the cabinet for a pot of some sorts, finding one with a broken handle but would do the job. You made your way into the living room to the fireplace as Daryl followed behind you, admiring your focus on the task,

You got to work heating the soup while Daryl readied the bedroom and ensured all the rooms in the cabin were closed off and that there were no gaps or holes in which a walker could possibly slip through. “Food’s ready,” you called out to Daryl as he heard you, coming into the living room to pull his vest off and throwing it upon the armchair. “You’d think a cabin with a pot would have a bowl. But nope,” you complained, pulling the put off the open flame to set it down on the coffee table as. Daryl flopped down on the couch, pulling is shoes off as he listened to you ramble, watching you strut into the kitchen, continuing your rant about the lack of crockery in the abandoned hut. “So I guess we’re going Lady and the Tramp on this one,” you smiled as you emerged with 2 spoons, as you flopped down next to him. “The hell is that?” Daryl grumbled at your lost reference. You scoffed in disbelief as you watched his clueless face contort in confusion,

“You never watched Lady and the Tramp? It was a movie about two dogs and there’s this one scene where they share a plate of spaghetti,” you explained as you leaned forward reaching in to the pot with your spoon and taking a spoonful into your mouth, trying to ignore the slightly bad taste it left in your mouth. “But we ain’t eatin’ spaghetti?” he grumbled, still unsure how applicable the reference was. You shook your head slightly with a laugh. “Well maybe it wasn’t the best reference,” you giggled as he let a small smile grace his usually stoic features as you both tucked in, both of you looking quite the sight sharing a pot of soup. You both guzzled the meal, the grumbling, ravenous feeling in your stomachs disappearing. Once you both finished, you fell back against the sofa in unison; full. You craned your neck to look out the window observing the darkness that had befallen. As if on cue, you let out a strained yawn. "We should probably get some rest. We can look for the others tomorrow," Daryl grumbled, noticing your tired state. You turned back around to look at him with a small, tired smile as you gave him a weak nod,

Daryl stood up from the couch, reaching out a hand to you which you took as he gently pulled you up from where you sat. "You know I really did have it back there. With the walker," you assured tiredly, as another yawn escaped you. "Yeah I know," Daryl said, slightly playful and slightly sincere, as he reached out a hand to ruffle your hair lightly as you shook your head away from his hand with a laugh. What he said was true, he knew you could handle yourself, he just didn't want you to feel like you always had to. He wanted you to know he was able to protect you, that you weren't always fending for yourself all the time. You extended your arms above your head as you stretched your body in exhaustion. "You can take the bed, I'll sleep out here on the couch. I got it ready for you earlier when I was lookin' round," Daryl murmured softly as he began to sweep the dust off the couch. You looked at him confusedly as you walked into the bedroom adjacent to the living room, observing the single bed in the corner of the room,

"Oh uh okay. Thanks," you mumbled appreciatively, watching as he flopped down on the couch, looking rather uncomfortable but it didn't seem to bother him as he placed an arm under his head in an attempt to alleviate the feeling of sleeping on the flat couch, with the lack of pillows. You stared at him for a moment, before he looked up at you from his lying position. "You good?" he asked quietly, noticing that you were still standing there surprisingly, after how exhausted you were. You shook your head, shaking yourself out of your daze. "Yeah I'm fine," you rambled hurriedly, as you turned on your heel to walk into the bedroom, pulling off your shoes quickly. You looked at the bed, your heart warming at the sight of the duvet cover flat and tucked in and the pillow freshly fluffed up; Daryl's doing. You didn't want him to sleep out on the couch, knowing he'd most certainly have a strain in his back in the morning, having realized the broken springs and worn in seats of the couch when you had sat down on it to eat earlier,

You carefully pulled back the duvet cover, before climbing in, settling into the mattress as you closed your eyes, trying to force yourself asleep. You tossed around to the other side, bed creaking as you did, struggling to find a comfortable position to sleep in. You sighed loudly, trying to fall asleep desperately but to no avail. After ten minutes of trying to sleep and deliberating furiously, you stood from the bed, walking slowly to the doorframe, looking at Daryl's form in the same position as you had left him in, though there was hardly much room on the cramped couch to move much. You twiddled your fingers nervously, not wanting to wake him, but you knew you were never going to fall asleep otherwise. Even in the prison, you and Daryl had shared a cell, him on the bottom bunk and you on the top, and it comforted you endlessly. You bit your lip anxiously, as you contemplated what to do. Eventually, you took a deep breath,

"Daryl?" you whispered expectantly, waiting for a response, but he didn't hear you. With soft, quiet steps, you walked closer to the couch to stand next to him now. "Daryl," you said softly, a little louder than your previous call. Daryl's eyes opened slowly, but shot open when he saw you standing above him, tensing before seeing the familiar face. "Jesus girl. Y' scared me," he mumbled tiredly, and your heart sunk at the thought of waking him from a deep slumber, having presumed he had only just fallen asleep given the fact that it had only been ten minutes. At the sight of your nervous state, he sat up on the couch. "What's wrong?" he asked gently, as you fiddled with the sleeve of your flannel. "I uh I was wondering if you could stay in the room with me? I can't sleep," you asked defeatedly, a touch of pleading in your voice. Daryl didn't hesitate for a moment, nodding in understanding as he stood from the couch, following you into the bedroom as you walked behind him slightly embarrassed,

Daryl began to look in the wardrobe and you watched him, perplexed. "What are you looking for?" you asked softly as he turned at the sound of your voice, before turning back to search. "Lookin' for something I can put on the floor," he replied quietly as he rummaged. At the realization at what he was doing, all of your nerves subsided. "Daryl, you are not sleeping on the floor," you stated seriously as he shrugged his shoulders. "I don' mind," he stated coolly, as his back remained facing you. "Well I mind," you refuted clearly, refusing to let him sleep on the floor. When he didn't halt his search, you spoke louder. "Daryl Dixon. If you sleep on the floor, I will slip out and leave this cabin by myself in the middle of the night without telling you," you argued seriously as he turned slowly to look at you with a raised eyebrow, not believing you for a second, knowing you'd never be able to leave him alone with the way your conscience worked. He smirked amusedly, as he didn't fight back, only looking at the small single bed, wondering how you were both going to fit in,

"Fine," he whispered as he climbed into the bed, lying flat on his back as you stood in slight disbelief at his lack of bickering back, before climbing in next to him, tensing your body so that you wouldn't fall off the side of the bed. You both lay there silently, not daring to even breathe too loud. After a few moments of silence and uncomfortable positions for the both of you, you spoke finally. "Do you wanna-" "Yeah," he blurted out, both of you knowing you couldn't sleep like this for fear either of you would tumble to the floor in the night. You both began to move around, both lying on your sides now. "Is it okay if i uh," Daryl murmured, slightly timid, as he ghosted his arm over you. "Yeah sure," you answered quickly, as he heard your confirmation, wrapping his arm around your waist softly, both of you facing the same way now, in a much more safe position. You felt the tenseness of his arm against your hip, and rested your arm atop his, using your fingers to rub circles on his hand, as you felt no recoil from him, knowing he was comfortable with you doing it,

You leaned your back against his chest slightly, enjoying the warmth that emanated from him, and the faint rumbling of his breath vibrating against your back. Daryl lay still for a moment, before deciding to reciprocate your movement, leaning down to rest his chin on the top of your head softly, and pulling you closer to him by his grip on your waist which made you blush ever so slightly. Your breathing had both calmed down as you both closed your eyes. "Thank you Daryl," you whispered gratefully, as he let out a small scoff. "You don' ever gotta thank me. Not for anythin'," he replied tenderly, meaning every word as you smiled, though he couldn't see it. "Whoever lived here must've enjoyed their space. Living alone in a cabin in the middle of the woods," you said nonchalantly, "sounds like something you'd like." You smiled when you said it, knowing how much Daryl enjoyed his solitude. "Not anymore," he murmured into the silence, the sound of crickets outside and faint howling of wind bringing you comfort. "Not since.. nevermind," Daryl trailed off, so quiet, you mightn't have heard it; but you did,

Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned in his arms to lay on your side, facing him now, watching as his eyes attempted to avert your gaze, making you slightly nervous and what the matter was. "Not since what?" you questioned delicately, gazing at him curiously. Daryl didn't say anything for a moment, before meeting your gaze, sighing slightly, knowing you were never going to let up by the eager glint in your orbs staring up at him. "Not since I met you," he answered honestly, avoiding your eyes once again as your eyes widened slightly at the confession, before you smiled widely, your heart warming. "Really?" you asked, giving him time to retract his statement if he needed to; but he didn't. His nerves were eased at the sound of joy in your tone of voice, calming Daryl, unsure of how you were going t take his admission. "Yeah really," he said gruffly with a small smile, as you both looked into one another's eyes now, communicating all you needed to know in that one glance. Daryl mulled over his thought for a moment, before finally acting on them,

Daryl leaned down to brush his lips against yours softly as your heart beat faster at the gesture, being stunned momentarily, before reciprocating the kiss, placing your hand on his cheek tenderly, deepening the kiss as his arm around your waist pulled you closer, his hand traveling up the small of your back, once again drawing you impossibly nearer to his frame. After a few moments, you both pulled away slowly, as you let out a small laugh at what had just happened. "I wish we could just stay here," Daryl mumbled, as you leaned your forehead against his, hugging him. "Someday we'll live in our little cabin in the woods just like this," you beamed as you hummed in approval. "With a bigger bed," he mumbled tiredly, through closed eyes as you closed yours too, laughing lightly. "Someday," you whispered as you both fell asleep comfortably in one another's embrace

SORRY FOR MY INACTIVITY LATELY!!! HOPE THIS MAKES UP FOR IT <3 ILL BE WRITING MORE OVER THE NEXT WHILE AND GETTING THROUGH MY REQUESTS SO SIT TIGHT

TAGLIST: @carlgrimeskisser @fallinqshade

[enavstars]

More Cyberpunk au details + details of the RGB desings + earlier concept drawing

(Before that please let me know if you want more info on the au because I have a couple drawings planned but with school and stuff I can't draw much and Idk if I can stay motivated that long. So my next posts could be mostly au lore with maybe some sketches, tell me if you'd like that)

In general terms, to give the Cyberpunk aesthetic to all of their designs I try to avoid symmetry by adding belts or patterns to break it. And for the colors, I focused on darker hues and neon tones. This way, the designs have a “punk”/dystopian-ish vibe while representing the high-tech elements of their society (which is like Cyberpunk in a nutshell).

As for the young versions of RGB, each one has their own color palette: Kai's is Red and orange with shades of black; Nya's is Blue, pinkish red and light shades of gray; and Lloyd's is light Green and also dark blueish green. Kai and Nya get a few details (shoes, arm or jacket) of each other’s main color as a wink ;).

Kai's outfit is meant for moving around comfortably both in the city and outside, Nya's is like a mechanic uniform for tinkering, and Lloyd's is for running as fast as possible; he also has a puffy sleeve similar to Kai's (le wink again). All three of them have a letter of RGB in some part of their outfit and share a tech pattern, each positioned differently (Kai in his inside shirt, Lloyd in his sweatshirt and Nya in her leggins)

As for Kai's eye:

One day, when they were exploring around the danger zone of the outskirts of the city, Kai accidentally activated a trap set by one of the last survivors of the Outside that unexpectedly still lived there (a paranoid rancid sociopath). The violent trap had become infested with Red plants with time and made Kai get in contact with it too: it instantly dug its roots deep within his right eye socket and Kai was unable to pull it off. Since it was such a sensitive spot where the plant was sucking all the nutrients out of him, he was so weak that Nya had to slowly and painstakingly carry him back through the ruined suburbs to get help inside the city walls. After getting around the border control with the plant still stuck to Kai’s eye, all thanks to Echo’s help (who also carried the kid the rest of the way), they got to the doctor’s. Luckily, he was able to cure Kai, but he was forced to remove the affected area, which were his eye and part of the skin of his face; however, if he had waited any longer the plant's roots would have reached his brain and killed him.

Nya then started looking for a biomechanic while Kai rested with little Lloyd, who’d followed his sister all throughout the loaded trip back but could do nothing but keep her company due to his size. However, when the girl finally found one who agreed to make the prosthetic eye for them, a fellow demon named Ronin, he set them the condition to seek out a strange artifact for him as payment, giving them a total of eight years to find it. With no money and no choice, they were forced to accept, but Nya managed to get a picture of the prosthetic’s plans; this ensured that she’d be able to fix it and not depend on the guy too much, but four years later they were found out and their deadline was cut down to only another year.

In the end, Ronin will be Ronin, and the mysterious artifact was in fact a collectionist piece of

Garbage.

Apart from that incident though, as kids they don’t really spend that much time in the city, and they generally only come there to visit their friends/acquaintances and sell stuff Nya finds. For example, they do both of those things in Ed and Edna’s junkyard, where Nya trades her scraps for their more useful scraps while visiting their friend Jay. She and her siblings (who always need to stick together inside the city walls just in case) like telling stories about their adventures in the Outside to the oblivious inhabitants, so obviously Jay is no exception. The girl is very energetic and much more of a little unhinged rascal in this au, so her stories are usually really exciting and filled with funny acting for the little boy. Additionally, as they are both mechanics in the making, whenever the siblings come around his parent’s workshop, Nya and him show each other their latest creations and sometimes they even discuss how they could improve on their work.

But the one who most often talks to people, especially strangers, is Kai. Because even though they are feared as demons, the boy is much more chill and charismatic than his siblings, and is usually in charge of being the friendlier face (although he does like staring at the people who get scared of his dragon ears a little too hard hehe). In fact, they use that awkward fear to their own advantage: due to Lloyd’s much more obvious demon features (his ears are even pointier than the other two’s and his eyes are straight up red), he is often the distraction whenever they need to steal food, either in times of need or if they just wanna cause trouble. People just cannot stop staring nervously at the little boy, who is great at drawing the wrong kind of attention, and when the act is up, he’s so fast following his siblings that no one can ever catch him.

Overall, they don’t really give a single damn about society and think too many of them are just as parasitic as the plants in the Outside, so they don’t often bother as kids to get into the city. That, paired with the fact that they are just three tiny outcasts who somehow miraculously keep coming back from the “deadly” Outside, means that people in the city just tolerate and more or less respect them (out of being kinda spooked by them), so they tend to get away with their shenanigans without much repercussion.

But in the future, they do change their habits a little bit.

When it comes to their designs, they do keep the same purpose but with variations in their shapes. Kai still uses casual comfortable wear but his color palette changes a bit, with a more pinkish Red with blue highlights instead of orange, but he does keep the shades of black. His outfit now consists of a thin bodysuit cut at the chest and hips to make sort of a hexagonal fishnet pattern, trousers and boots, along with a ton of new accessories (more slutty in general).

Nya keeps the mechanic vibe but with more of the gray and blue colors and barely any red. She has huge trousers with bigger pockets and her tools attached under her belt, a sports bra (for the ladies ;)) and mech gloves. She keeps her goggles, which are a different color now.

Lloyd has a sports outfit similar to the previous one in the shorts and leggings. He keeps the puffy sleeve on his left arm, although it is now a standalone piece, and has bigger trainers. His color palette is black and white with neon/bright greens. He lost his arm in an accident with plants too: the affected area was on his upper arm so they had to remove the entire thing, and Jay made his prosthesis.

They all have more small details of their other siblings’ colors (for example Lloyd has the pins on his casual vest); also, and instead of having their respective RGB letters on a random part of their outfits they are now matching at the back of the three jackets. Some other details on them are the fire symbol in blue on Kai's bomber jacket and on Nya's military jacket, the label on the chest that reads "samurai", complete with its X on the arm sleeve.

Their more mature personalities make them live around more in the city, although practically nobody knows their true names still, while also not leaving behind the Outside or Echo (in fact, their expeditions tend to be longer now that they have more experience and overall strength and abilities).

Nya (still just known as “Blue”) actually works in her own workshop now, selling her works on her own. However, her stubborn, energetic and blunt personality has now matured into pure badass and she’s constantly looking for a fight, but nobody can touch her or at least seriously hurt her because she’s insanely strong.

Also, even if they do manage to actually harm her she has her brother Kai (“Red”) looking out for her, who can basically destroy anyone’s private life if they mess with any of their siblings through blackmail :). In fact, he’s usually seen hanging around in the Red district (they even mistake him for a prostitute sometimes lmao), which is where most of the juicy information is flung around, so he has no trouble getting sensitive information about anyone and anything in the city. In addition, he’s developed a calm and charismatic personality that lures people into their manipulative tactics to take advantage of virtually anyone he wants, but his temper can be frail sometimes, especially when his siblings are hurt in any way. But, when it comes to them, even though he is more protective of them as the older brother and can explode if they are treated badly, he still fully trusts them and their abilities and they all rely on and fiercely fight for each other like a team whenever necessary.

In contrast to his siblings, though, Lloyd tends to avoid conflict as much as he can: despite looking like a human neon sign with his jacket on, he always manages to scurry out of sight whenever he’s in trouble as the speedy, witty little monke he is. And the reason he gets caught up in so much drama is because he is extremely curious and, as they aren’t kids anymore, people now care about the demon trio’s meddling in their business quite a bit more.

In conclusion, as they grow, Kai, Nya and Lloyd become more intelligent and fleshed out in their own ways, and even though they still have no respect for society as a whole, they do keep some friends close to them. They love each other and Echo as the unique family they are, and always make sure they have each other’s backs no matter the situation.

Here is Kai's early design + scar (TW: gore)

[cheemscakecat]

AI Art mistakes Episode 1: Gravity Falls as an 80s mystery movie.

Like usual, AI struggles to replicate text. There are a number of reasons why an AI generated background image is a bad idea under most circumstances, especially as a final draft.

Here is an actual picture of the Mystery Shack from the show. This design was based off of research done by the team working on the show. They travelled to actual tourist traps in order to find objects to draw as background details, like the signs and decor around the shack.

The AI version doesn’t scream tourist trap house, it screams random gas station [which is what I assume the rectangles in the far bottom right are supposed to represent]. The scale of the signage on the real design gives us insight into Stan Pines, the owner of the business, and what we can expect to find on a tour. The moss, missing S laying on the roof, and big board underneath all tell us something important: This is an old building, and the owner is cheap.

The scale of the full shack is much larger than the little AI version, so much that the Gift shop area feels around the same size as the whole thing. The AI version isn’t believable as a house/shop combo because of how small it is, and the broken window!

There’s a room big enough for two children to have separate beds and a large room with a window nook in the attic area of the mystery shack. We don’t know where this bathroom is on the ground floor, but given the fact that there’s an outhouse, we can assume this is meant for the family living at the Shack, not tourists.

The detail of the non-suspicious triangular windows is lost in the AI image, and since none of the posters even spell words, there’s no good details gained from including them.

This support on the porch roof doesn’t connect back to the building, it connects to this tree trunk. And the supposed gas pumps don’t make sense either because there’s usually only one or two, and they’d all be the same height.

AI Dipper Pines just looks like that one kid from Stranger things.

Another issue with AI art is that the texture on “Dipper’s” hair is super soft and fluffy like a cat’s fur. You can see this actor’s curly hair leaves actual gaps and is more wiry and shiny… because it’s human hair. Also, the image from the show has this grainy texture on the skin and cloth, because the show is set in the 80s and cameras weren’t high definition. AI art looks too smooth and buttery because it doesn’t have the human understanding of aesthetics and texture.

He also looks like Frodo, but I don’t know why the AI would pull from a non-80s themed film.

That ain’t Journal 3, thats Diary 9!

The AI didn’t even make it red! Made it massive and square, but the rest wasn’t allowed.

“Dipper” isn’t looking at anything because an AI drew this and had no plan for what he’s supposed to be staring at. Also, one of his nostrils is smaller and his right eyebrow is trying to escape AI purgatory.

Don’t let ro-bro cook, AI “Mabel” looks like Minecraft Brett Cooper.

Naw, because why is AI Mabel’s jawline stronger than her Twin Brother’s?!

That is NOT Mabel bro, that is a thirty year old married woman on Pinterest!

With a sock puppet for a thumb.

They made Stan into a fusion of Walta White and Stan Lee, which makes sense. But his empty black eye socket and deep wrinkles give me a fight or flight response.

This is what real eyes and wrinkles look like. Once again the text on Stan’s jacket makes no sense [and being AI has no design thought put into it], and the hair looks like cat fur. Walta’s beard is a good example of what “Stan’s” mustache should look like texture wise.

This isn’t Soos, this is Deter Diffin!

Literally what is the same? Got bro out here looking like a slapstick mobster with 3 offended brain cells.

Look, I know Mabel saved that 8 legged cow, but even she’s wise enough to get stranger danger vibes from bro. AI waddles looks like one of those cursed 3-D Peppa Pig animations from the depths of YouTube.

So this next one, I didn’t even know who it was supposed to be, but the video had timestamps in the description…

…..

…..

….

So Ford… isn’t a ginger, first of all. Second of all, he’s literally wearing a baseball cap with a beanie over it. Because that would do anything for you.

Doesn’t look like AI Stan. Doesn’t even look like his painted self, much less the actual Ford. The AI latched onto the author thing and made him do a book signing or something. I promise you, if Ford got the chance to do a book signing he would not look this depressed. Maybe he can feel the disappointment through the screen, IDK.

AI Bill Cipher. Apparently. Bro looks like a Demonic Discord Mod who found out his Lemon Demon concert ticket is counterfeit the night of the event. I’m not even going to waste time explaining this one.

So yeah, that was episode one of critiquing/roasting AI art.

[direwombat]

wip whoops its friday

tagged by the beloveds @g0dspeeed, and @adelaidedrubman (tysm~ <3)

still hating everything i write, but the "daddy la roux lives and is in the fc5 timeline" au has seized my brain and i have been piecing together an abridged version of katc for this au featuring syb's shitty dad <3 so here he is. being a little less shitty. and helping boomer dig her up from the grave faith put her in during her Bad Day™

In the confines of the coffin, Sybille had managed to stay calm. To slow her breathing, conserve her oxygen and focus on the sole task of breaking free. Humming that song had helped -- had given her the adrenaline she needed, and the soft, phantom voice of Jacob Seed murmuring words of encouragement every time she struck the lid. 

Good. 

Again. 

Almost there.

It isn’t until the wood buckles and dirt begins pouring in that she begins to panic. The soft, crumbly topsoil falls onto her face and into her mouth, like thousands of tiny spiders crawling over her skin. 

Her initial scream was more instinctive than anything else. 

Each subsequent one is more akin to the yowling of a feral animal throwing itself against its cage. 

Her bloody knuckles sting as dirt cakes onto them, but despite its looseness, the soil is heavy. Each time she pushes it away, more takes its place. She can barely breathe. It’s only when she takes a strained breath for air that she hears the sound of a dog barking. It’s faint, muffled by God only knows how much dirt, but she’d know that sound anywhere. 

Boomer. 

It’s enough to keep her going. 

She calls his name, and with a renewed sense of vigor and desperation, she continues to claw her way to the surface. The dirt begins to move around her, and between Boomer’s barking, she thinks she hears the sound of another person’s voice. It’s low and likewise muffled, but it sounds like a man. 

Someone is here. 

Someone is here to save her. 

Most likely Earl, if she had to wager a guess. Boomer must have run for help after she passed out from the Bliss. She’s just lucky they found her in time. The prison wasn’t close to where she last remembers being. Maybe it’s Sharky. Hell, it might even be Xander. 

She thrusts her arm up into the dirt as far as she can push it, and there’s a sudden release of pressure as her hand breaches the surface. “HELP!” she cries out, and this time, she’s close enough to hear Boomer yipping and barking in response. 

And then the warmth of another person’s hand grasps hers. It’s rough and calloused, and there’s a not insignificant part of her that bizarrely hopes that it’s Jacob’s. It squeezes her own, almost reassuringly, and while she still can’t tell who the voice belongs to, she can make out their words. “I gotcha, I gotcha, I’m’a getcha outta there!” 

The pull nearly wrenches her arm out of its socket. It’s like being dragged through molasses. But her arm is free.

Then her head, and she’s blinking away the bits of dirt falling into her eyes, her vision adjusting from the pitch black of the underground to the bright sunlight glaring overhead.

Then her torso is pulled from the ground, and she’s falling into wiry, but strong arms. She trembles against her savior, clawing at his shirt and hiding her face in shame as tears blur her vision and streak down her cheeks. But when she inhales and the stench of stale tobacco and the sharp bite of menthol fills her nose, a broken sob rips free of her chest. 

“It’s okay, Billie,” Daddy shushes and he holds her tighter. “I’ve gotcha. You’re safe now, okay? Daddy’s here. Daddy’s gotcha.” 

She ought to push him away. She should want to claw his eyes out. But for the first time since she was a baby, Daddy’s here. Her knees come to curl up to her chest, making herself as small as possible, and suddenly she’s four years old again. 

She’s four years old and Daddy’s home, and he doesn’t stink of alcohol.

She’s four years old and nothing Bad has happened yet. 

She’s four years old and Daddy’s here to chase the nightmares and monsters away.

She’s thirty-five years old, screaming in grief and agony and all the other emotions she bottled up inside are suddenly bursting free until all she can do is shiver and shake while he holds her. His touch is startlingly gentle. Long, nimble fingers -- pickpocket’s fingers; cheating gambler’s fingers; liar’s fingers -- stroke her hair and rub small circles over her back, trying to help soothe the pain away. 

She’s thirty five years old, and for the first time in as long as she can remember, she feels safe in Daddy’s arms.

taggin' @fourlittleseedlings, @wrathfulrook, @harmonyowl, @ivymarquis, @carlosoliveiraa, @cassietrn, @poetikat, @confidentandgood, @strafethesesinners, @trench-rot, @miyabilicious, @simplegenius042, @inafieldofdaisies, @josephslittledeputy, @aceghosts, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @voidika, @strangefable, and anyone else wanting to share a wip! (taglist opt in/out)

[ninathekllrr]

pretend i dont know anything about mitch (because i actually dont and was too scared to ask in dms) and please share everything you have about that man ?!

Ohmahat gawd I’m gonna OOGLE u

Okayokayokayokayokagokag.

Starting off canonically (typing this after hand — there was barely any canon it was just us yapping)

Mitch doesn’t have much lore to him in all honesty

Just the dude that got terrorized by eyeless Jack (nawt Jack Nyras whatever the fuck La mishi mishi named their twink ass version of EJ)

But like. . . Maybe it’s just me being an EJ irl or just how much Mitchell fascinates me for no reason at all, hands down one of my favorite “background” CRP characters to a popular/mainstream one.

To sum up the eyeless Jack story told in Mitch’s point of view

—> (quote)

"I was staring face to face with a creature with a black hoodie and a dark blue mask with no nose or mouth staring down at me. The thing that scared me the most was that it had no eyes. Just empty, black sockets. The creature also had some black substance dripping from its sockets."

Actual thing —>

In the original story, a man named Mitch moves in with his brother Edwin after his house is foreclosed. A week later, Mitch wakes up with a large gash on his cheek. After going to the hospital, the doctor reveals that Mitch's left kidney had been surgically removed overnight. Around midnight that night, Mitch wakes to see Eyeless Jack over his bed, wearing a blue mask with black liquid dripping from empty eye sockets behind the mask.

Mitch manages to grab his camera and take a picture before Jack attacks, clawing at his chest. Mitch escapes and flees into the woods, where he trips and is knocked unconscious. When Mitch awakens in the hospital, it is revealed to him that Edwin had been killed the previous night. His parents drive him to the house to collect his belongings. When he enters, Mitch sees Edwin's corpse and a small object lying next to it. He observes it find that it is his kidney with a bite taken out of it, covered in a black substance.

(Copy and pasted for accuracy)

——————

There is very little media of Mitch becuz the OG (the rake-like eyeless Jack / aka the “OG”) isn’t as popular as all the remakes (the most popular being the cult-sacrificed — Slavic son of Chernobog: and WW2 eyeless Jack)

But the ones that do (or even just barely hint at his existence) I EAT THE EFF UP

(Links) —>

(This one is so silly cuz the art tbh)

(The little dude doll is supposedly Mitch. . . Also I heavily think this has Hannibal references ?!!??!!??? Maybe I’m a little too autistic)

This I ESPECIALLY love omfg

And there are probably more out there but these r just some examples

—————

I guess I really like the fact that unlike other victims of different EJ stories (or just any slasher / CRP story) Mitch isn’t a complete dumbass and he fights and flights against EJ. Whether EJ psychologically tortured Mitch (as some alternate versions go) or not idrc I still find him so silly. . . AND HE DOESNT DIE ?? WOO HOO YOU GO BITCH QUEEN !!!!!

The media of Mitch that is out there indicates the man has either blonde or black hair , blue eyes , and pale skin.

My guy is most definitely in his 20’s (assuming he is mid - late 20’s) and while not having a canonical full name (that I know of) I’ve seen multiple sources saying it’s Mitch(ell) Harlan’s / start w a H?? Idk. EJ’s story is left to be a mysterious one that is easily bended to fit anybody’s creative imaginary. That goes the same way for Mitch as well.

I ALSO SEE ALOT OF PEOPLE SAY THAT MITCH IS EYELESS JACK WHICH I FIND VERY VERY COOL

if EJ doesn’t kill its victims, or they manage to escape, they fall under a certain illness that basically mutilates their appearances. ( not canon at all plz I just wanted to mention this )

(And yes I will be using it/its for ej cuz not only do I use it/its but EJ is canonically referred to as a masculine thing, “it” and creature 😒)

There is this sooper dooped cool artist on toyhouse, and while their eyeless Jack isn’t the victim (aka Mitch) and just happened 2 have the same night I still I love their interpretation of EJ.

Uhhh that’s basically it for “canon” wise and additional information. Dudes basically as much as a mystery as eyeless Jack itself andddd yeah I still love him and I think we can do just as much to his character just liek what was done w EJ

(I probably sound insane to anything reading this:) what is bro yapping about? Mitch was just a victim—— SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH let me live in my own littol world of mitches 😞

(Also had 2 hold back on yapping about my memories w Mitch bc I’d actually drive the tumbers on here insane)

K

Kay

Kaayzie

Im done

Errr

:33

[marvol0]

OUTSIDER (7) || Rabastan Lestrange WTM

Series Synopsis: When the truth comes out about the future inside the walls of Hogwarts, on the first night back in 1977, what will happen for those involved with the chaos that ensued?

Secrets outed, Lies revealed and true intentions determined.

Pairing: Rabastan Lestrange x Fem!Regulus Black

Notes: Short chapter :)

Everybody had once again settled down in their seats, Regulus was back between her boyfriend and son, her best friends sat at her feet. Some people had brought snacks and drinks back to where they were sitting to enjoy while watching the movies.

The screen once again filled the hall with light.

6th January 1980.

A group of three men were shown, black eyebags beneath their eye sockets. The men were older versions of Rabastan, Evan and Barty, they were stood, heads bowed slightly, at the back of a group of people.

The same people from when Regulus was given her mission.

Regulus burrowed into her boyfriends side, hands carding through the hair of the two boys sat at her feet.

"We have been betrayed by one closest to us." The voice of the Dark Lord Voldemort started, he somehow looked even less human than one week before. The skin on his face hugged his cheek bones, lips now flushed with a periwinkle tone, eyes a grotesque red colour that reflected the blood he had spilled.

"Regulus Black not only failed her mission to assassinate the Potter and Longbottom families, no, she also informed them of said mission and as result the two blood traitorous families have gone into hiding." He informed the group, earning some silent sounds of outrage in response.

The three men looked down, the people around them thinking it was an act of shame for their association with the youngest Black, only Rab, Evan and Barty would know it was a show of pain, after three days of their beloved friend and partner in crime had been missing they knew she would not be returning.

The, hardly-human, male continued. "I have seen to her punishment myself, as of the thirty-first of December Regulus Black is dead." He said maliciously.

"Lier!"

"No you didn't!"

Were some of the reactions from the halls mass, the followers of said Dark Lord were in outrage that the man they followed, looked up to even, had blatantly lied to their faces.

The scene changed once again.

A beautiful manor was shown, white brick walls graying with age had vines of ivy covering them, pointy turrets made up of black slates sat proudly upon the mansion looking out on the surrounding gardens, which housed a dozen regal, roaming, platinum peacocks. The breathtaking house had fences of bushes, shaped to perfection, lining the wide walkway which led to a tall, polished gate.

Those from the Malloy family sat up straighter than before, proud of all the awed faces of those around them.

"You really do have a wonderful home Abraxas" Commented Delilah Selwyn to her old classmate.

"Thank you Delilah but I must give the praise to my wife, Lysistrata is the one who takes the most care of the grounds." Lord Malfoy replied, Lys smiling before pecking her husband on the cheek.

The scene followed a beautiful owl to one of the many black framed windows, it perched on the window ledge before tapping its beak lightly on the glass. A house elf unlocked it before taking the mail from the owls clawed foot, feeding it an owl treat.

"Pip is thanking you, Axl." Pip, the elf, said before the bird shook its feathers and took off once more, Pippa left with a pop landing in the sitting room in front of a three month pregnant Narcissa Malfoy.

Squeeling, Clarity Selwyn (soon to be Greengrass) turned to her best friend, squeezing her tightly, gushing over how beautiful she looked and how she 'must be the godmother of your son!'

Narcissa nodded hugging her back, happy to see her best friend so exited for her.

"Mistress Narcissa, Pip has the Daily Prophet  for you as well as some letters." The young elf handed them to the woman who was sat on one of the green leather couches, cup and saucer placed on the wooden end table.

"Thank you, Pip." She replied, the elf leaving the room with a quiet pop, the woman looked down at the days headline, brows furrowing and alarm swirling in her grey eyes.

The scene moved to show the newspaper.

[skelebagels]

“Sometimes he doesn’t remember.”

A little fic inspired by @cranberrytea451 ‘s concept for a Scar comic. I may come back to this at some point but I like it well enough now to share :)

Note: if repetition bothers u this fic is not for u

Warnings: body horror - memory lapses - self harm (graphic) - depictions of mental distress - loss of time, somewhat graphic gore

edit: accidentally swapped his eyes in the fic if u read an alt version somewhere. He is blind in his right eye.

Sometimes…he doesn’t remember.

He doesn’t remember why it’s so cold. Why he’s so hungry. He doesn’t remember how he came to be here or where that even is.

And he.

Doesn’t remember…

It’s dark in twilit glow and so cold. Yet for some reason it’s darker to his right.

He lifts his hand and follows it. He shuts his left eye and only meets darkness.

Why can’t he see? Why can’t he see out of his eye?! Why can’t he open it? Why does it hurt when he tries?!

His fingers tremble as they reach up and find the stitches and his stomach churns while his mind aches.

Holy shit someone sewed his eye sh-

Where is he?

Why can’t he see?

Theres stitches by his fingers.

He digs in while his working pupil trembles in its socket. No. No he can’t. He can’t see.

Why is it empty?!

The lid that he pries into is hollow and sunken with no orb below for his fingers to touch.

He lost his eye. It’s gone it’s gone. Gone gone empty and it hurts.

His right ear twitches as his stitches pop.

What’s going on?! He can’t!

He can’t remember…

His face hurts and there’s a warm liquid leaking down his cheeks. From his eye. Is he crying?

No that’s not it but it is. The liquid that oozes down his right cheek is thicker than the freezing flow of his left.

His right pointer and middle fingers are warm and wet.

Where…

There’s a slick sound as he pulls them from his oozing socket and his sunken lid sticks to his bloody digits. It makes his aching empty soul roll.

What the fuck happened to his eye?!

What happened to him?!

He reaches up to hold his head only to find more confusion there. There’s stitches on his scalp, there’s stitches on his scalp and he doesn’t have his eye, he doesn’t have his ear, what happened what happened what

Where the fuck even is he?

He can’t fucking remem-

His face hurts. There’s cool liquid draining from his right eye that stings and aches and makes him want to cry and scream. Yet he has no energy and his anxiety spikes at the thought of causing so much noise.

His left cheek is cold with a frozen trail. He stands in a twilit forest of aspen and snow, the sky an ominous black.

There’s stitches by his left hand.

What… why are there stitches? His left hand is on his scalp and there’s stitches. Why. Why are they there. Why are they there.

It aches when his irritation and confusion leads to his fingers digging into the wound. Why was he wounded?

Why are there stitches?

Why couldn’t he see out of his right eye?!

He couldn’t…

He’s kneeling in a snowy twilit aspen forest with the sky an ominous black that drips flakes of snow like water from stalactites…

Why is he thinking of stalactites?

His head hurts and his hand is warm and wet. There’s…a wound on his head. Yet he feels numb. He knows it’s there and that it hurts but. He just.

It just…is.

When he reaches up he blinks owlishly at the pink stained snow before him. His…

There’s a flap of skin peeling off his scalp. It pulls at the stitches at his forehead and brow, and one’s behind his ear. It hurts.

Why can’t he see from his right eye?

His head aches and it’s wet and tacky when he reaches up to hold it.

There’s flesh peeling from his scalp…

Flesh… He’s so hungry.

He can’t remember.

It’s so cold… and he twitches at every sound. Out of the trees. It’s not safe here. Why why. Why does he know that why is he so confused why can’t he fucking remember!

His head burns as he grabs at it and silently screams into the painfully cold snow next to him. He doesn’t understand what’s happening! Where is he? Why?!

Why does it hurt so much?!

He’s crying…

He…doesn’t know why.

There’s…there’s not time for that.

His working eye finds a spool of thread and needle in the snow next to him. His face hurts… his head hurts.

He’s so hungry.

He only moves when the numbness settles completely. When the world feels like little more than a fuzzy dream…nightmare.

The sheet of ice in front of him answers his questions. He doesn’t…feel anything. He thinks he should but there’s no time for that. No energy.

His face is wet with his own blood,both from his torn lid of his empty socket and the gore of his scalp.

He thinks it should hurt when he sees his reflection, that it does, but he’s too cold, too hungry, too exhausted to feel it. He both recognizes himself and doesn’t.

He doesn’t understand.

But he can’t stay here.

His cold hand trembles in exhaustion when he takes up the needle and spool of thread for makeshift stitches. The reflective ice makes a decent enough mirror while he sews himself back together.

His hands pause at his eye, the fresh thread already pulling at his skin, too thin to not cut into it.

Why…

Where is his eye?

[gio-scrabbles]

“I don’t think he’s after the emerald, I think he’s after you!”

I’m taking a small break from writing the comic, but here’s an art piece with the debute of a new character from the same story! The bio of the new character as well as a one-shot featuring Sonic and Shadow are below. I hope you all enjoy this!!!

Before Sonic was about to hand the emerald over to Shadow, a portal opened out of thin air. Several black, winged creatures fly out and begin to attack throughout Westopolis.

As both hedgehogs stop the havoc with the one emerald in hand, another portal suddenly opened by them. A horned creature, larger than the rest, ran out as it was being attacked by a horde of the winged creatures. As soon as it got it’s bearings straight within the new area, the horned creature slams its claws down and annihilated all of them within a second. Sonic and Shadow stand side by side in disbelief as all the bodies of the unconscious creatures are thrown across the streets. “How in the world did a big guy like that defeat all those little guys so fast?” asked Sonic in a puzzled manner.

“I’m not sure, but I have a feeling that his speed is not natural,” Shadow replied as he stared at the emerald Sonic was holding. He then notices the horned creature stared at their direction while doing a stance, as if he were to lunge towards them. His left eye, or rather the empty socket where the left eye should have been, began to glow red. “I also have a feeling that he might want to take that speed up a notch,” Shadow looks at Sonic, “Have a plan to outrun him? Wouldn’t want him to catch up to you or the emerald.” he stated with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“Don’t worry! That monster may be fast, but I’m faster! I can beat him one on one in a race! You can join if you like, but that would require you to have the emerald at hand instead.” Sonic replied with a wink while holding the shining emerald up high. Shadow rolled his eyes at him, but he couldn’t help but be at least a little impress by his subtle comeback. He could say something back, but time is of the essence.

Sonic and Shadow ran the opposite direction from each other. Before they could get their heels off the ground, the horned creature began to run towards them and catch up instantly. Sonic looked behind to see how far ahead he was, but noticed that the creature wasn’t anywhere near him. He wasn’t running toward him. He was running toward Shadow.

Skating his way to the whereabouts of the other creatures, a slight twinge on the forehead distracts Shadow from looking at the path ahead of him. He began to feel a pulse where the pain was at and stopped at his tracks in order to gain his composure. In the brief moment where he glanced towards his back, he saw the horned creature silently yet suddenly charge towards him. He quickly jumped out of the way as the creature’s claws lunged at where he stood, slamming the concrete ground instead. That was close! Shadow thought to himself while midair. As the result of the attempted attack, the creature’s giant claws were trapped under the rubble. He struggled to set himself free, but it only got him trapped more. The horned creature lets out an ear-grating roar.

“Shadow! Are you alright!” Sonic zoomed toward Shadow with a concerned look in his eyes and the emerald STILL on his hands.

“Yes, but I could of sworn he was going to chase you!”

“I thought so too, but I don’t think he’s after the emerald, I think he’s after you!”

“Well, whatever that monster’s intentions are, it’s going to take a lot more than that to get me.”

Biography

Project Terra: A lab-created hybrid between an armadillo, badger, and the Black Arms, resulting with a behemoth who is able to dig even through the toughest of rocks and protect itself when formed into a ball. Due to exposer with artificial chaos energy, he is also able to use the ability of chaos control, albeit a weaker version of that power, to move through land at unimaginable speeds.

Initially created by the government and rejected due to unlisted complications, Dr. Kreo successfully finished the procedure and took him under their arms. As the first rejected creation under Kreo’s care, Terra formed an unyielding loyalty to them. However, he would go so far as to perform dangerous missions to please Kreo without their knowledge, such as the attempt to acquire the Master Emerald. Resulting in permanent damage to his jaw after an unfaithful encounter with an echidna.

[here-have-some-stories]

Silent Laughter: Chap 3

The next morning and the dream was still fresh in my memory. I tried to forget about it but to no avail. I hoped it would just forget itself. The first thing I saw made my heart skip a beat and my body freeze in terror. My curtains were ripped to pieces, like a knife had sliced through them, just like what had happened in my nightmare. I didn’t think it was a dream anymore. 

I peered closer at the window and noticed a small crack in it, in a way that looked like something had been drilling into it lightly. Or something sharp had been tapping on it repeatedly. The sounds of taps on the window from the night before filled my mind and I once again felt sick to my stomach. 

I left my room and saw the note from the door was gone now. Making my way up to my parents room, I saw that my mother was no longer hanging there. But there was plenty of evidence to suggest that she had been. The rope was still hanging there, looking like it had been ripped apart, but my mum’s body was gone. I looked down and saw my vomit from before was still there, and had stained into the floor. That was something to deal with later. My parents' bed was neatly made, not just my dad’s side, but my mum’s side too.

Then it hit me like a truck that I still didn't know where my dad actually was. He seemed to have just disappeared. I sunk down onto my parents bed, thinking about what  I could and should do about everything that was happening. Thoughts were whirling through my head. What was happening? How was this possible? Where did Dad go? Have I gone crazy? Am I actually dead and gone to Hell, and now this is my punishment? 

Eventually I came to a decision to investigate the windows. I saw the creature from the night before through my parents window, and the tapping on mine, so maybe they had something to do with what was happening. It didn’t make much sense, but it was the best lead that I had.

I looked at my window first, feeling the crack, thinking about how whatever had been tapping must have been pretty strong or sharp, or both, to get through the double paned glass. I looked at the grass beneath me to see if there were any signs of footsteps. Looking extremely closely, I noticed there were very slight dents in the grass, looking like a stub. It reminded me of how I always thought a pirate with a peg leg footprint would look. It didn’t tell me much though, so I moved onto my parents window.

Nothing could be found there, except for the same footprints, which were useless. I turned around and for the second time that day, froze in terror. My house's fence had always been one made of iron, spoked like a type of fence you would find around a graveyard. I had once seen a movie, where at the end of it a person got stabbed up through the chin by a tiny church spire that was in a miniature version of a village. The scene before me reminded me of that.

My dad was on top of the fence, skewered to it by the spokes protruding through his body. One through his chest, the other right through his skull, coming out through his eye. His blood splattered on the fence gave it a sort of rusty looking colour. 

Hesitantly, I walked closer to the body, and saw, sure enough, his other eye was missing, blood and the same black goopy stuff weeping from the socket. 

I noticed that there were people walking past, seeming to be coming one at a time down the street, but they didn’t do anything. For some reason, that scared me more than anything. I ran inside, terrified, confused and panicked, making it the second time that I abandoned a corpse.

At the time it escaped my mind that the people walking one at a time down the street were all the same person.

I ran into my room, faster than I had ever run before, and slammed the door behind me. I looked panicked around my room, trying to find something to help. My eye caught contact with my calendar. I picked up a pen and put an X through the dates for that day and the one before. I wanted to keep track of how long this stuff would be happening. I wanted to keep track of how long it had been since the tragedy of my parents death.

Next Chapter ->

Please give feedback or suggestions if you have any :)

[arthrobug]

Yo yo yo! I'm exhausted and it's 1:30 AM

Vote for an idea of mine, my broken kneecaps and back are on the line homies, please reblog and vote

I kinda suck at deciding for meself, since I like all of them (of course some are favourites I'll get to dat later), so I need some help if y'all don't mind! If you want to, you can simply comment which idea is your favourite! It would be GREATLY appreciated!

First up, is a story I made almost two years ago now (April 3rd-5th 2021), The Living Void!

The Living Void follows 24 skeleton children who seemed to appear out of the blue! They all have different goals they're pursuing, but a question that's on all their minds in one way or another is: 'Why are we here?' or 'How are we here?', or something else to that effect! Muscadine is the appointed leader of them, and he is the one most motivated to answer this question, due to the fact he seems to be 'strangest' one. Fighting through their multiverse, Muscadine and the other Living Void kiddos will have to encounter various enemies, such as a group dedicated to eradicating kids like them, a fellow group like them, of course a Destroyer of Universes, and various others!

The Living Void is one of the top three stories! This is because I love my kids and honestly I love the intractability of it.

(By the way this description is so much shorter than the others because it's an interactive story, and details are asked by other people, so if you wanna know Muscadine's backstory, than ask for it if this story is chosen!)

Secondly, is Killer and a Baby, my oldest story yet! I made it in September of 2020, which is two years ago, and since I go by years and not months cuz' my brain's a bit lazy, almost three years ago. (Feels longer being honest lmao)

Killer and a Baby follows Sans in a post-apocalyptic world, driven mad by the death of dozens of monsters close to him, and watching hundreds, maybe even over a thousand other monsters be slaughtered by discriminating humans. Sans slowly takes the name 'Killer', and due to his new 'lifestyle', determination now drips from his eye sockets, and his soul can now be seen out of his body at all times. One day, while scouting out an abandoned city, he hears human soldiers acting up nearby and hides until they can no longer be heard. Killer leaves his hiding spot only to pass by a dumpster with a small skeleton baby inside. It starts to cry black tears like his when he plans to just leave it there, and he panics and grabs it. Later on, Killer shockingly discovers the baby's soul is also permanently out of it's body as well, but in a shape of a bright star instead of a red target. What an oddly similar child.

KaaB is a tie between bottom three and top three for me, since it's my oldest and I REALLY wanna finally flesh it out, and while I like making backgrounds, backgrounds are still super tedious for me and I also suck at drawing them sooooooooooooo,,,, oh and just as mentioned there's mass genocide so violence/heavy themes warning

It'd be tubular if y'all voted for it, but just know this one will take quite a while because of the details it'll def have.

Third is Glitch Dad, a more recent story I've never even posted about ANYWHERE yet! Due to that, I don't really know exactly when I made it, I just know I made it sometime this year, maybe mid 2022, whoopsy.

Glitch Dad follows Erratum, a sort of 'reincarnation' of another Multiverse's version of Error. That Error somehow fell into the void, and was scattered across time and space until two great deities decided to give him another chance at life, and placed him in a far of multiverse where he could finally be free of his forced destruction. Error awoke as Erratum, and decided to try to find other monsters (preferably skeletons) like him, his fellows. Instead, the first one he finds is a skeleton toddler, named Ragnarok. Throughout the years, Erratum does find fellows, but in skeleton children that were either abandoned, orphaned, or mistreated in some other way. Because of his slight resemblance to the Error of that multiverse, this giant version of him being still standoffish but quite kind was causing quite the ruckus in the multiverse.

There is seven fanchildren in this that I will include, such as Ragnarok (Hatemare), Meteo (OuterKiller), Somber (Crossmare), Kenza (DustLust), Starcross (Cream), Belladona (DustLust), and Mute (AfterDeath). If I am not allowed to use these characters, PLEASE someone inform me of this.

Glitch Dad is the story tied with KaaB for top three and bottom three, because there will of course be a story in all six of these, but Glitch Dad will be comprised of mostly memes and softness/fluff (AKA an absolutely ginormous traumatized guy being a nice/good dad to equally traumatized kids), so this one is tied because I think it'll be fun to make awsedtryftygouh

Number four is Bloody Buttercups, the second oldest story! This started because I like the trope of someone hurt caring for another hurt person or something similar to that lmao.

Bloody Buttercups takes place in SaveFell, an AU that exists for (currently) unknown purposes, all that's freely known is that the Sans somehow is in possession of a Determination Star/Save Point, and there is no Player in the files or anywhere. Sans is commonly bullied for being known as the 'soft' monster of the Underground (SaveFell isn't entirely based around strength/LV, it's based around personality and what you do. Strength is still important though-), and one day after leaving his post because he couldn't handle seeing humans from the surface enslaving skeleton monsters due to their heightened magic/strength capabilities, he goes to the Ruins, and sees the usually clean river streaked with fresh blood. Sans follows it until he finds the source, an odd skeleton monster with small destroyed wings. He seemed to have maybe fallen from the surface, somehow, but he had no chains whatsoever. Only odd clothing, ripped up wings, and the large skull of a bird placed upon his own skull. Sans decides that for once, he's going to act like the 'softie' he is, and with some struggle, brings the skeleton to his home to care for in secret.

Bloody Buttercups is one of the top three! This is because it's one of the older ones, has not too many characters, I REALLY like the trope/main character interactions included, AND, this story, when finished, could connect to two other stories that are included! I'm not telling which ones though hehehe

Number five, UNDERRINK! Probably the newest story I can't remember lol

UNDERRINK follows Frisk, a nonbinary child who is a selective mute, and resides in a rural orphanage. There is some good snowfall one day, and one of the other kids invites Frisk to ice-skate. Frisk doesn't know how, so they reject the kind offer. However, he does take the skates that are given to him. They wander into the forest nearby, but they suddenly feel the ground dropping. Suddenly Frisk falls under the ground, and she lands on a large pile of snow. Soon, she wakes up, to be met with a yellow flower, wearing a yellow scarf, calling themselves 'Flowey the Flower'.

UNDERINK is simply UNDERTALE but played with battle/competitive ice-skating in mind! Everyone simply has a skill and clothes change, nothing magic related! Oddly enough though, 'Sans' looks very different. He has a scar under his left eye, has snowflake shaped eyelights, and even though the story is a basic change, 'Sans', who prefers to be called Frost instead, uses Ice magic?

Oh well, you'll only know the story and why Sans is unique if this is voted for! (And, if this is voted for, and the story finishes, it won't exactly end yet :].)

I'm going to be honest though, UNDERRINK is in the bottom three, specifically the VERY bottom,,,, Mainly because I have no clue how ice-skating works GNEKGHWNAS so if there's someone who knows a lot about ice-skating and is willing to teach it easily to me that would be  a w e s o m e , also I have to draw the entire/main points of the UNDERTALE game so this could either be the longest or shortest one lmao

OH! And, one of the characters (bet you can guess who lmao-) could (keyword, could) be included in one or more of the other stories, hehehehehehehe

LASTLY! Tunnels, my autistic arse's favourite! (but on the bottom three and I'll explain why in a moment-)

Also pretty new, but older than the last one!

Tunnels is a multi-perspective story following humanoid Arthropods, except Crustaceans, f*ck Crustaceans, no one cares about them right now. This is basically the 'bugification' of the UTMV characters lmao

Some of the main characters include Paint, the dragonfly version of Ink, Sun, the wasp version of Dream, Passion, the moth version of Lust, Slayer, the centipede version of Killer, Grimm, the true bug version of Reaper, a couple of humans too, such as Alphys, and even more!

Since there's so many, I couldn't possibly provide a story example of each one lmao so y'all are just getting this:

Each one has some sort of trauma, minor or major, and they're all dealing with this one detail- Humans have discovered their existence and that might cause a bit of problems, especially violent ones.

By the way, 'Oh wowie bug story!' Gets slapped in the face with some REALLY MESSED UP SHIZ. I think this is the darkest one other than KaaB, which is mass genocide and regular gore (but mass genocide is in UNDERTALE so um). So that's your warning if you're still interested-

The EXTREMELY dark themes warning is because when I was just awfully explaining the backstory of one of the characters to my mother, she had to stop me because she was getting uber uncomfortable with how gory it was, from me just  t a l k i n g  about it,,,, So  U H , major warning! I didn't even really realize how dark this one is until I started explaining some of the story awesrdtfyijnmokl-

Anyways, this one is on the bottom three even though it's a favourite of mine is because: The story and world is absolutely MASSIVE. The large amount of characters require an amount of meticulous detail, and as mentioned previously, Tunnels is one of the darkest ones out of the six. It'll be fun for me that's for sure, but I haven't even fleshed out a solid storyline yet, it's just in bits and pieces for each character.

If you guys want this before all the others though, same as the others as well, totes rad I need a singular thing to focus on lol

ALRIGHTY THEN!

That's the six I'm willing to work on, this took about maybe two hours to write out holy he c K my back and neck hurts

PLEASE CHOOSE ONE! If you can't decide or if you want to list out your favourites to least favourites, PLEASE DO SO! Literally any sort of decision other than just going, "this sucks" is awesome ersdtyfiohjk

Have a nice day/night lads! PLEASE VOTE/TELL ME WHAT YOUR FAVOURITE IS!

[velvetwarfare]

SHARP CLAWS SLAMMED INTO THE BASEMENT WALL BEHIND THE SMALL IMP, HER HEAD JUST CENTIMETERS AWAY FROM HIS FACE. BLACK DROOL OOZED THROUGH THE GAPS OF JAGGED TEETH COUPLED WITH AN UNBLINKING STARE, SUNKEN EYES NARROWED INTO SLITS SO THIN THAT IT GAVE OFF THE IMPRESSION SHE BORE NOTHING BUT EYELESS SOCKETS.

“ Why can you not be FUCKING STRONG ENOUGH? “

PTSD began to rear its UGLY head. She too felt POWERLESS AS A HUMAN ONCE, pondering why she wasn’t STRONG ENOUGH TO SAVE HER KOMPANYA FROM IMMINENT DEATH. In a manner, she saw HERSELF in Moxxie — at least, THE FIRST VERSION OF HERSELF THAT DIED. IT INFURIATED HER.

“ YOUR JOB WAS TO PROTECT YOUR FAMILY. YOUNGEST OR NOT, YOU WERE MEANT TO SUCEED. TO BECOME A SUCCESSOR. YOU WERE MEANT TO BE MORE THAN THIS. “

A loud EXHALE from her nostrils — AN ANGERED BLACK BULL. That was what she was called back in the HUMAN era — THE EXECUTIONER. THE TORTURER. THE INTERROGATOR. THE FEARLESS BLACK BULL WITH AN AXE NEARLY TALLER THAN HERSELF.

THE YOUNGEST AND THE PROTECTOR OF HER KOMPANYA.

“ — WEAK. SPINELESS, COWARDLY, PATHETIC. TOO SCARED TO SHOOT A FUCKING TOY GUN WHEN IT MATTERS MOST. YOU WERE MEANT TO PROTECT! TO FUCKING SUCCEED THE THRONE! YOU WOULD LET YOUR BLOOD FAMILY DIE BECAUSE OF YOUR SOFT HEART.

KINDNESS DOES NOT GET YOU ANYWHERE IN HELL, YOU FUCKING PREDATEL’ ! PREDATEL’! WHAT IF THEY NEEDED YOU? YOU WERE TOO SCARED TO KILL! IT IS FUCKING KILL OR BE KILLED IN HELL, PREDATEL’ !

Do you know where HESITATION AND PACIFICATION GETS YOU? “

Eyes squeeze shut as the DREADED MEMORIES POUR IN. It’s been CENTURIES — but despite not being able to clearly remember her family’s faces and voices anymore, SHE COULD REMEMBER THEIR DEATHS CLEAR AS DAY.

“ MURDERED. YOUR KOMPANYA GETS MURDERED. PICKED OFF ONE BY ONE BY FUCKING ONE FOR HESITATING. FOR EXTENDING HEARTS TO THE WRONG PEOPLE. FOR BEING WELCOMING IN A WORLD FULL OF DEVILS.

CHARRED TO ASH IN FRONT OF YOU AS YOU WERE SILENCED, UNABLE TO SCREAM. MURDERED ON THE ROAD BY THOSE THEY TRUSTED. MURDERED BECAUSE THEY FUCKING TRUSTED SOMEONE WHO WAS OUT FOR US, FOR MY KOMPANYA — WATCHING MY BROTHER GET TORN APART, SCREAMING UNTIL MY LUNGS NEARLY SHREDDED APART, BEGGING AND SCREAMING AND CURSING THE GODS FOR TAKING AWAY MY KOMPANYA.

WHAT IF THEY NEEDED YOU, PREDATEL’ ? WOULD YOU BE OKAY LIVING WITH THE GUILT OF YOUR OWN BABA’S BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS BECAUSE YOU COULD NOT HANDLE THE LIFE YOU WERE GIVEN IN A WORLD THAT REQUIRED THAT HOSTILITY? “

She then pulls back her fist — AND SLAMS IT FULL FORCE INTO THE WALL JUST A HAIR AWAY FROM HIS HEAD. THE FORCE CAUSES IT TO SHATTER INTO CEMENT AND DUST. Within the dust cloud however, he could make out her expression — ANGER. DESPONDENCE. REGRET.

“ …You are WEAK. You would have never survived if it were not for IMP.

I grew up just like you — but I stayed. I stayed until the BITTER END JUST TO SEE ALL OF MY KOMPANYA — MY FAMILY — DIE BRUTALLY. AND THEN I DIED — EXECUTED. BEHEADED FOR VAMPIRISM. I WAS EXECUTED PRIVATELY BY THE BARON. NO FAREWELLS. NO WITNESSES. NOBODY KNEW I WAS MURDERED TOO. MY BROTHER WAS MURDERED, AND THEN SO WAS I — BECAUSE WE TRUSTED AND LOVED TOO MUCH JUST AS YOU DO NOW. I FAILED MY KOMPANYA. I FAILED MYSELF. THE DAY HE DIED, I DIED WITH HIM — AND I WAS NEVER THE SAME AGAIN.

YOUR FAMILY SHOULD MEAN EVERYTHING TO YOU IN THIS LINE OF BUSINESS. FREEDOM AND FAMILY. AT THE END OF THE DAY, THAT IS ALL YOU HAVE LEFT. YOUR FAMILY IS RIGHT TO BE SO BRUTAL IN A WORLD THAT WOULD DEVOUR YOU WHOLE FOR BEING TOO SOFT. “

A quiet pause.

“ …You and your posse know me as Betty. The Overlord of War, whatever.

I am a SHAVALI. Kompanya means FAMILY. We did EVERYTHING WE COULD TO SURVIVE IN A WORLD THAT REJECTED US — SO WE PUSHED BACK EVEN HARDER AND PUNISHED THOSE WHO DEFIED OUR RIGHT TO EXIST.

WE WERE THE FUCKING MEDIEVAL RUSSIAN MAFIA AND I WAS THE NEXT SHAVALI IN LINE TO BECOME HEAD BOSS — UNTIL I WAS MURDERED WITH MY BROTHER.

AND YOU WERE TOO. FUCKING. COWARDLY. TO STAY WITH YOUR OWN FAMILY — YOU ABANDONED YOUR OWN FAMILY, PREDATEL’ .

TRAITOR. ���

@unholi