#i don't even know if you're supposed to take cold meds when you've got the rona but I did it

[thedovahqueen]

I ran out of tags again 😭 I feel like it would be more surprising if I HADN'T waffled

Phantasmagoria (Part II)

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 attacks • implied attempted sexual assault (not described, happens off-page • non-consensual photos being texted around (very briefly described, and then it’s just a mention of a bite mark) • violence between characters • brief description of Douma getting his face pounded in (deserved)

CW: 14k words. MDNI. explicit sexual content ahead (opens mid-fuck) • creampies • oral (f! and m!receiving) • rough oral • throat fucking • cum eating • ass-smacking • hate(?)fucking • toxic ass FWB • swearing • angst

I promise Part III will have angst BUT also lots of fluff/intimacy/care.

Without further ado!

Three weeks had passed since Sanemi first brought her home with him when Y/N realized she was utterly fucked.

Sure, at that moment, the platinum-haired man had her bent over his kitchen table, arms pinned behind her back as he pounded mercilessly into her, but she realized that she was also fucked because nothing had ever or would ever compare to the way Sanemi made her feel.

It had started only as an occurrence whenever they were out at night, with Y/N tugging Sanemi into Kizuki’s seedy bathroom to bounce against his lap. Sanemi had been forced to muffle his groans by sucking harshly on her breast as he fucked her against the bathroom wall, only for her to succinctly pull off him the moment he finished to return to her friends, Shinobu discretely handing her a napkin to wipe the remnants of his pleasure as it dripped down her thighs.

Then, she started letting him bring her back to his apartment from the various clubs and bars their groups visited. She grew content to let him lay her over the side of his bed to swirl that sinful tongue around her needy, demanding clit as his thick fingers steadily pumped in and out of her aching cunt while he fucked her mouth, his seed spilling down her throat with a force that threatened to obliterate any dwindling part of her that had not been utterly consumed by him.

But that still had not been enough for Y/N — or for Sanemi, apparently.

Because their late-night trysts had quickly evolved into near-daily rendezvouses, both stone-cold sober and texting each other in the middle of the day, in desperate need to feel the other’s body pressed flush against their own. And as wrong as it was, Y/N loved it; she craved it more than any pretty Wisteria pill or sticky fruity drink.

Because all it took was one taste for Y/N to end up right back in the scarred palm of Sanemi Shinazugawa’s hand, begging him to fuck her back to life.

And fuck her he did. The top of her sundress had been pulled down to her waist, and the wooden grain of his kitchen table bit into her bare breasts as Sanemi’s hips slapped roughly against her ass. Y/N was close to sobbing because god, it felt fucking good when he got rough with her like that, when he made her feel anything other than the crippling numbness that seemed to spread through her with each passing day.

He released her arms to lean forward and ghost his lips up her spine, all the way to the back of her neck, and Y/N came hard, just like she did every time they came together because Sanemi knew how to set every nerve in her body on fire with his addicting touch and addicting kiss.

One rough hand made its way under her jaw to twist her head back so he could claim her lips with his, coming as he did so, his groan of pleasure muffled by Y/N sliding her tongue into his mouth.

She hated how much she loved him.

—————————————————————————

They’d been sleeping together for nearly a month when Sanemi decided to test her patience.

“So, are we gonna talk about it?” Y/N cringed, because no, she most certainly did not want to talk about it; not then, not ever, and especially not with him.

“Why would we?” She responded flippantly, twirling the straw in the dregs of her drink. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Bullshit,” Sanemi snapped at her. “You’ve spent the last two years running away from us, and you think there’s nothing to talk about?”

Y/N met his stare hard, her own returning glare cold. “Running implies effort.”

“D’you really think I didn’t try to find you?” Sanemi grabbed her wrist, keeping her from getting up and leaving the bar. “But god forbid you be vulnerable, huh?”

————————————————————————-

“Oh, God forbid you be vulnerable, ‘Nemi,” Y/N gave him an exaggerated eye roll as she leaned her head against Kyojuro’s shoulder.

“You’re sayin’ you would let yourself get that…close with someone?” Sanemi argued, and with a sigh, Kyojuro paused the movie.

They weren’t supposed to be watching a movie with such steamy scenes, but Y/N’s mother had stepped out to cover a shift for a friend, and the trio of teenagers had been left without supervision.

Really, the movie hadn’t been that bad; but the film’s shining sex scene had been several minutes long, each of the teenagers shifting uncomfortably on the couch as the sound of moans filled the basement where they’d gathered to watch.

The scene had passed, but Y/N’s and Sanemi’s argument over a particular detail had not.

“If you’re already having sex, why does it matter what position it’s in?” Y/N half shrieked with laughter as both boys turned scarlet. “Isn’t intimacy the whole point?”

Sanemi turned his face away, embarrassed. “All I’m sayin’ is I don’t think I’d ever let a woman have that much power over me.” Sanemi was referring to the way the female character had climbed atop the love interest and began riding him, her head tipped back as loud, lascivious moans fell from her lips.

It was Kyo’s turn to laugh. “You’d have to get a woman in that position, to begin with, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi made a disgruntled sound. “Bro code says you’re supposed to be on my side, Rengoku,”

Beneath where her cheek lay, Kyojuro vibrated as he laughed heartily. “I’m not saying I’m not! Just that you’ve got a few steps to take before you have to worry about it.”

“Worry about being too vulnerable,” Y/N screwed her eyes up and stuck her tongue out on the last word as she teased him, settling back in against the couch as she grabbed the remote from Kyo’s hand and re-started the movie.

—————————————————————————

“You would know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Y/N said frostily, stomping away from the bar and from him.

She didn’t know why she tried to run away from him, not when it was so pointless. Because an hour later, Y/N found herself on the edge of Sanemi’s bed, as he hooked her legs over his muscled shoulders. Face buried deep in her cunt, he lifted her off the mattress, suspending her mid-air and upside down as he ravished her while she sobbed for him to do more, to give her more until she could not possibly take anything else from him.

Perhaps he was punishing her; maybe she deserved it. All Y/N knew, as Sanemi finally tore his mouth away from her weeping core and flipped her onto her knees before slamming her back on his steely length, was that if this was her punishment for loving Sanemi Shinazugawa, she would gladly take it.   

The last thing she thought, as Sanemi spilled into her for the second time that evening, thumb swirling her clit and his teeth buried in her neck, was that she was grateful to be on birth control.

—————————————————————————

“Do you like doing that?” Kyojuro’s voice was hesitant over the vibration of the music and laughter of drunken revelers gathered to let loose on the Kizuki dancefloor, and Y/N had to lean closer to hear him at all.

Y/N frowned slightly as she pushed her dissolving Wisteria to her cheek. “It’s just a recreational thing, while we’re out, y’know?”

She didn’t know why she was explaining herself to him, or why she felt like she had to, but Kyojuro had always been one of the few people who could pull the truth out of her with little effort, and in the back of her mind, she knew that made him dangerous. After all, he might get her to confess that she’d missed his smile or missed the blazing heat of Sanemi’s stare whenever she spoke.

Kyojuro reached out and brushed a lock of her hair that had fallen loose from one of her space buns behind her ear. “You were always so straight-edge. I guess I’m just surprised.”

Y/N wanted to smack his hand away but found herself leaning into the steadying warmth of his touch. “Things change, I suppose.”

Kyojuro winced, and his eyes filled with a sadness that was too out of place here in this den of debauchery. “Where did it all go wrong, Y/N? What happened?”

It all went wrong when Sanemi and Genya’s parents were killed in that car crash, making the boys wards of the state who were then bounced around from foster home to foster home. It all went wrong when Genya defended another boy in a fight that wasn’t his to begin with and ended up dead on a sidewalk. It all went wrong when Sanemi lashed out at her and condemned her with a few choice words that seemed grossly disproportionate to what she’d actually said. It all went wrong when Kyojuro decided that being there for Sanemi meant he had to abandon her, too, and then they’d both forgotten about her while she’d lost everything.

But Y/N couldn’t unload all of that right then. “Things change, Kyojuro.” She repeated, though her voice was slightly weaker than it had been, wobbling slightly in a way that Y/N knew meant she would cry if given long enough.

“But you’re our friend, Y/N-” Kyojuro pled, but it was the wrong thing to say, and he cringed as he watched her clam up almost instantly.

—————————————————————————

“She’s our friend!” Kyojuro said hotly, though, with his missing front tooth, it was hard to see him as anything but adorable, even as he glowered at the sneering girl, as he helped Y/N stand up from where she’d been knocked over.

“What a weirdo!” Ume, the small, white-haired girl who always looked like she smelled something unpleasant, reached to yank one of Y/N’s pigtails harshly, causing her to cry out in pain. “And you’re ugly, too!”

Y/N had only been trying to join in on Ume’s tea party that she held with the other girls in their class. But when she’d boldly tried to sit down amongst them, the cruel little girl had shoved her harshly out of the circle they’d formed on the blacktop,

Kyojuro smacked the beastly little girl’s hand away. “Hit her again, and I’ll make you sorry!” He threatened, and for once, the girl had the wits to look slightly intimidated at the blonde who towered over her.

“If you hit me, I’ll tell my brother on you!” The troll hissed, but it did little to cow Kyojuro, who shouldered past her as he steered the softly crying Y/N away from the horrid little group of girls.

“Y/N, are you okay?” The blonde asked worriedly after they were out of sight of Ume, turning her around to look her over.

“I-I just w-wanted to be t-their friend!” Y/N hiccupped, her tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “But they were s-so mean!”

Kyojuro pat her head, just like he did with his baby brother. “You don’t want to be their friend, Y/N,” he said kindly. “Not when they’re so mean. Stick with me and Sanemi! We’ll always look after you!”

Y/N wiped her eyes and tugged at her loose pigtail, all messed from Ume’s harsh grip. “Do you promise?”

Kyojuro smiled as brightly as the sun. “I promise! I will always be here to watch after you – whenever you need me! I’ll be there!”

—————————————————————————

Y/N patted the warm brawn of Kyojuro’s shoulder sympathetically. “I was, Kyo,” her use of his nickname somehow made him hurt more, his mouth wobbling somewhat as his eyes mirrored the resignation in hers. “But it’s just as I said,”

Y/N reached for Mitsuri’s discarded drink on the counter and tipped it back, draining the last dregs of alcohol. “Things change.”

—————————————————————————

Y/N was leaning against the counter of the bar, nursing her beer as she watched her pink friend giggle and murmur sweetly to the black-haired boy dancing with her, the latter’s hands hesitantly gripping her friend’s waist.

“You don’t approve?” A familiar voice rose over the pounding bass of the club music from her side. Y/N didn’t have to turn her head to know who’d sidled up next to her – she would know his blistering heat anywhere.

She tapped her fingers against the sweaty side of her glass. “I just don’t know why he won’t make a move,” Y/N said after a long moment, a frown pulling at the corners of her red-painted lips.

Sanemi followed her line of sight and his mouth pressed into a hard line. “Maybe he wants to, but he thinks it’ll just make things worse.” He said after a moment, voice quiet.

Y/N hummed in disagreement. “He’s making it worse by not doing anything at all – he’s made her think it’s her fault things aren’t working out between them.”

“He doesn’t mean to,” Sanemi offered. “He does care about her. More than she realizes.” He watched as Obanai delicately brushed a strand of Mitsuri’s pink hair from her eyes.

Y/N finally rolled her head to the side to look at him, and idly she wondered if her eyes looked as numb as she felt. “If he did, he wouldn’t keep hurting her; wouldn’t have hurt her to begin with.”

Sanemi stared back at her, and it made her heart squeeze to see the faintest trace of pain in his gaze, even in spite of his small smile. “’S not that simple, though.”

She looked away. “It could’ve been,” Y/N took a long sip of her drink, part of her hoping that he couldn’t catch the jaded edge that crept into her voice. “And now all they know how to do is use one another.”

Sanemi’s gaze upon her was uncomfortable, and not just because it felt like he was stripping down every carefully crafted wall she’d erected around herself during their estrangement. The genuine flash of hurt in his eyes made her feel slick, oily, and so very wrong.

The pair watched as the mismatched couple on the dancefloor swayed together, Obanai’s eyes wide the whole time, as though he could not believe he had the good fortune of holding the beautiful, colorful girl in his arms. Y/N tried to feel happy for her friend, but it was difficult, especially when he knew that the night would inevitably end with Mitsuri in tears, lamenting that her dark-haired lover had yet again insisted he was not good enough for her, and he would leave Y/N to pick up the pieces of her friend’s broken heart.

“They should let themselves try,” Sanemi murmured, bringing Y/N’s attention back to him.

In one smooth gulp, Y/N polished off the rest of her drink, the warm buzz of alcohol loosening her tongue. “Trying is for those who haven’t lost hope.” Y/N squared her shoulders and steeled herself to return to the dancefloor once more. “And Mitsuri is about to learn that lesson.”

Later, just as Y/N predicted, Obanai left but Mitsuri did not go with him. As she wrapped an arm around her crying best friend to steer her out of the club, Y/N looked back to Sanemi, still at the bar, and hoped he could see the I told you so in her eyes.

————————————————————————-

It was July, and Sanemi was getting on her last nerves.

“Y/N, you need to stop,” Sanemi’s voice was gruff as his hand closed over her wrist, restraining her from raising the little violet pill to her lips — her second of the night.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “I didn’t realize you were my father,” she tried to turn away from him, but he caught her shoulder, wrenching her back around and swatting at the hand clutching her key to euphoria.

“Cut the shit, Y/N.” He ignored the way she glared at him, as she watched her pill bounced to the floor and disappeared. “You’re destroying yourself; you know that?”

Y/N’s blood turned to ice in her veins. “It’s none of your business, Shinazugawa,” and he flinched at her use of his surname. “Why do you even care?”

Sanemi almost looked menacing as he stares at her under the flashing strobes of the Kizuki. “You’re my friend.”

————————————————————————-

“Because Sanemi,” Y/N sniffed, “You’re my friend.”

Though Sanemi’s bandages covered most of his face, he could just make out the teary sincerity in the young girl’s eyes as she squeezed his good hand where it lay against his hospital bed.

At that moment, Sanemi had felt guilty for snapping at his long-time best friend. He’d known that she hadn’t meant any harm when she asked him if the multitude of lacerations that now covered the right side of his body were permanent. But Sanemi had woken up to the news that he and Genya were now all alone in the world, and he couldn’t help but feel sorry for himself; he couldn’t help his need to wallow in the sadness and misery that threatened to suffocate him.

And so, he’d lashed out.

“Tch, who’d wanna be friends with a scarred freak like me?” He snapped back, though the sourness in his gut intensified as the tears slipped faster down Y/N’s cheeks.

“I do,” she insisted. “We’ve been best friends since we were babies.” Amidst the sniffling desperation in her eyes, the first inklings of anger began to shine through. “You can’t just decide to quit being friends! That’s not fair!”

“I don’t care if you have scars!” Y/N’s voice grew more shrill over the slow, steady beeps of the various machines to which Sanemi found himself attached. “I’ve always thought you were…were… pretty!” She sputtered.

For once, Sanemi had been stumped into silence. The young boy found himself suddenly grateful that most of his face was indeed covered by several layers of thick medical gauze, given the way he felt his cheeks heat at Y/N’s furious declaration.

“And I will always want to be your friend!” Y/N finished dramatically, crossing her arms, and flinging herself back in the plastic chair she’d dragged over by his hospital bed.

“All right,” Sanemi murmured, grateful that he could blame the crack in his voice on his impending puberty. “All right. We’re friends.”

“Best friends,” Y/N corrected, though the sparkle had returned to her eyes.

—————————————————————————

Y/N laughed without humor. “You think, because we fuck when we’re high or drunk, that makes us friends?”

Y/N laughed again, and Sanemi’s grip around her wrist tightened. “As I recall, Shinazugawa, it was you who ended our friendship, well before we ever started—” Y/N grimaced. “Whatever this is that we’re doing.”

“We hook up when we’re under the influence. Nothing more.” She finished, coldly.

A flash of hurt flit across his features, almost obscured by the pulsing lights of the club. “I’ve been sober for the last month, Y/N.”

Sanemi’s answer landed harder than she’d anticipated, in no short part because she hadn’t noticed he’d stopped taking Shinobu’s Wisteria, much less stopped drinking while they were all out together. As he said it, however, Y/N recalled the way it had been more than a month since they’d last hooked up at night, with Sanemi responding to her texts only in the morning or early enough in the evening before she’d had the chance to fall under the Wisteria’s magic spell.

In the back of her mind, Y/N knew she should be concerned with the way the Wisteria was beginning to dull her perception and her memory, but she couldn’t find it within her to care at that moment. She only wanted to make the man before her hurt, hurt the way he’d made her hurt for all these months.

But she couldn’t. There were a million insults on her tongue, waiting to be used, and she knew that he could take whatever it was she threw at him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“The sentiment is the same, drunk or sober,” Y/N said, half-heartedly. “We’re not friends. We haven’t been for a long time.”

The pain in Sanemi’s eyes was overshadowed by his own anger, a sure match to her own. “No? So, I’m just a stranger to you, hm?” He took a step closer to her and reached out his hand, gliding it teasingly up her bare arm. “A stranger whom you call and text every day to come and fuck you the way you like it, huh?”

He pulled her close to him, and Y/N let him because he was right, damn him. She craved his touch, his body, more than any tiny purple pill or acidic drink she could spend her money on. She craved him just as surely as she craved air.

But she could not admit that to him, not then, not there. So, Y/N merely breathed, “Yes,” as Sanemi’s hand wrapped under her jaw, his other one tangling in her hair to pull her head back and meet his eyes directly.

Sanemi kissed her, softly, before pulling away to smile ruefully at her. “Then have your pills, Y/N. But you can’t have me, too.”

He released her, and Y/N stepped back, thankful for the dim lighting of the club that concealed her blush. “I don’t need you,” she whispered, though she knew it was a lie. From the look that Sanemi gave her in response, as he retreated towards the bar, she could see he knew it, too.

Y/N sought out Shinobu for another one of her magic pills, but even before she’d allowed it to dissolve on her tongue, Y/N knew something was off. No longer was her world a vibrant array of colors beckoning her to the kaleidoscopic paradise she’d come to love. Instead, the Wisteria crumbled bitterly in her mouth, and no amount of stinging alcohol could chase away its acerbic aftertaste.

She tried to lose herself on the dance floor as she so often did, but it only worsened the sludge that pulsed through her veins.

Beneath the throb of multicolored lights, Y/N felt as though she was suffocating.

Y/N pushed and elbowed her way dizzily through the crush of people on the dance floor, lungs constricting to the point of pain as she struggled to take a breath, her limbs trembling. Her eyes landed on a pair of lilac irises studying her from across the club, and distantly, Y/N noticed how he straightened, his focus lasering in on her as she stumbled towards him.

She couldn’t deny the irony that she was so used to fleeing from him into the sparkling, sweaty array of club-goers, only to find herself desperate to run to him, for safety and comfort, away from the revelers who were suddenly too loud and too close.

He met her halfway, having moved from his place against the bar counter after noticing her distress. With more relief than Y/N knew she should feel, she collapsed against him, grateful for the steely warmth of his arms as they closed protectively around her. In his embrace, she found that she didn’t even mind the way his lips pressed against her damp forehead as he asked whether she was okay.

She wasn’t, and that was his fault to begin with, but he was there, holding her as if she mattered, and Y/N let herself melt.

—————————————————————————

An hour later, she was back in Sanemi’s apartment, crouched over his toilet while the cold tile of his bathroom floor bit into her knees as she heaved up her guts. Sanemi was there, too, seated behind her on the ground while he held her hair in his gentle grip, his free hand rubbing soothing circles into her back.

Between the spasms in her stomach, Y/N wondered if he could see the black sludge of her love for him mixed in with the bile courtesy of Shinobu’s bad Wisteria pill.

————————————————————————-

The next morning, he was yelling at her.

Y/N was confused as to why, exactly, his voice was raised at her, given how gentle he’d been with her the night before; it wasn’t as if she’d been trying to do anything different when he awoke.

She’d just been gathering her things to leave, as she always did. She never stayed after they’d finished, and he knew that — so it wasn’t her fault that he’d woken up and caught her trying to sneak out of his apartment.

“This has gotten out of hand, Y/N. You’re out of control,” Sanemi was blocking his front door, his face hard. If Y/N hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought she saw a hint of concern intermingled with the anger that filled his eyes.

“You were lucky last night that you only had a bad trip — but what if it had been mixed with something? What if Kocho’d made a bad batch?”

Y/N’s head was pounding, and the aftereffects from her the previous night were still echoing through her, twisting her world into something dark.

Sanemi’s raised voice wasn’t helping; not in the slightest.

Y/N felt her hands drift to her head as she covered her ears, her breath quickening as her lungs squeezed and spasmed in her chest.

“Stop,” Y/N pled, but her voice was weak and distant, and utterly drowned out by him.

“You’re killing yourself, don’t you see that?” Sanemi continued hotly. “D’you know how gaunt you look? How frail? This shit is killing you, Y/N.”

“For someone who constantly needs to be in control, you’ve completely lost it.”

“Stop, please, stop,”

“What would your mother think?”

“Stop.” Y/N repeated, and she said it again and again until she was half-screaming it, sobbing as she fell back against the hallway wall of Sanemi’s apartment. Distantly, Y/N recognized she was having a panic attack, and she knew it wasn’t really his fault, but his words had stung nonetheless.

Warm, gentle hands closed around her wrists as Sanemi lowered her hands from her ears and pulled her against his chest.

“Breathe,” he said, hoarsely. “Breathe, Y/N.”

It was too difficult to get a breath down as she gasped against him, his chest bare under the shirt he’d thrown on and failed to button in his haste to stop her before she could run. Beneath the warm skin under her cheek, Sanemi’s heart beat strong and sturdy, a lullaby that soothed the roar in her ears.

“Breathe with me,” Sanemi coaxed, peeling back from her, his hands coming to rest on either side of her head as he pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. He inhaled, deep, for three counts before exhaling, and Y/N found herself falling into sync with him as her erratic heart slowed.

But as the jittery panic beneath her skin eased, a fire ignited in her blood, and suddenly, Y/N found herself boiling with anger.

“How dare you?” She shoved him away harshly, her eyes wild. “Who the fuck gave you the right to bring my mother into this? Don’t act like you suddenly give a shit about her memory.”

Sanemi stumbled back under her push, and he looked remorseful, more guilty than Y/N had ever known him to seem. “Y/N, I –“

“No, shut the fuck up,” She snapped. “I don’t believe you for a second, Sanemi. Not for one fucking second do I believe you care about me or about her at all.”

Y/N paced in front of Sanemi, still situated in front of the only entrance to and exit from his apartment. Fine, if he wanted to keep her in there with him, then he could deal with her rage.

“Not one fucking call,” Y/N began. “Not once did you or Kyojuro bother to check-in. ‘Hey, sorry we haven’t spoken in nine months, but we heard your mom got cancer, and she used to feed us when our parents wouldn’t, so we thought we’d check in and see how she was doing.’” She mimicked, cruelly. “Do you see how fucking simple that could have been?”

Sanemi only stared at her, his eyes an unfathomable mixture of sadness, remorse, and pain.

“But you didn’t,” Y/N said coldly. “You two fucked off and continued your merry little friendship together, so spare me the bullshit.”

“Y/N – Kyojuro cares. I care –“ Sanemi tried, but Y/N cut him off once more.

“Shut the fuck up!” She exploded, her hands flailing in front of her as she tried to push him away from her once more. “You don’t care, you never did! I’m just a warm body for you to fuck and that’s it.”

Y/N finally shoved past him, hand reaching for the door. “Don’t you dare pretend like I mean any more to you than that,” She spat.

She flung his door open, but Sanemi’s hand shot past her, slamming it shut once more. Y/N stood there, facing the door, chest heaving as she struggled to control her anger. “Let me go, Sanemi.” She said stiffly, refusing to turn around, to face him.

Sanemi’s hand found her shoulder and turned her around instead, and before she could blink, his mouth slammed down angrily over hers, his hands gripping her waist tight as his teeth nipped her bottom lip, demanding entry that Y/N couldn’t help but give him.

He was her weakness; always had been, always would be.

Sanemi pressed her against his doorway, a strangled groan tearing from his throat as Y/N palmed him through the sweatpants he’d haphazardly thrown on.

“Y/N,” he groaned as she increased the pressure of her hand slightly, her lips moving to his neck as she licked one of the small scars that lay near his jaw.

“I need you, Sanemi,” She murmured, and Sanemi’s eyes blew wide as he growled, arms locking around her middle as he heaved her up against his door.

Their lips met in a fiery exchange of tongue and teeth, biting, and sucking at the other possessively as they tore each other’s clothes from their body. Y/N ground down against Sanemi’s thick, bare length as it bounced against the underside of her thigh, the slick wet of her heat grazing him and causing him to moan in her ear.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Sanemi growled as he spun them away from the door, guiding them towards his kitchen as he laid her out over his counter, an arm only leaving its position at her waist to clear the assorted mail and spare keys he’d had organized there, letting it all fall to the linoleum floor.

Sanemi’s fingers worked their way between her legs as his lips wrapped around the peak of her breast and sucked, causing Y/N’s back to arch gracefully off the surface of his counter. His thumb stroked her aching bundle of nerves as his index finger swirled around her entrance, teasingly gathering her wetness around the calloused digit, before he sunk it into her, curling it so that he brushed against that sensitive spot on her front wall.

“Sanemi – ah,” she panted as he added yet another finger, her eyes nearly crossing at the sensation of his hand scissoring in and out of her, while his thumb continued to play with her clit. “I can’t wait – please,”

He hesitated for a moment, no doubt fighting every urge to sheathe himself within her heat in a single stroke, but he withdrew his fingers, nodding. With a surprising softness, Sanemi flipped Y/N over, pressing her down against the cool top of his kitchen counter, and used his knee to knock her thighs apart. One hand braced on her hip, the other gripped him at his base as he nudged her opening from behind, Y/N nearly drooled as she felt the hot, flared tip of his cock pressing flush against her entrance, and she rapaciously ground against him, eager to feel him inside of her.

Sanemi gradually eased himself into her wet, aching heat, no doubt taking his time because she’d demanded he take her before properly preparing her. Y/N whimpered at the stretch of her walls around him, as Sanemi groaned, loud and unrestrained, as he sank into her warmth, his chest heaving behind her.

One broad hand slid down the side of her leg, lifting it up to rest on the counter. With one long draw of his hips backwards, nearly withdrawing from her waiting cunt, Sanemi slammed back into her with a force that had her choking for her breath.

Sanemi began to fuck her, and she swore she saw the gates of Heaven.

With every sharp push and pull of his steely length, Y/N felt her eyes roll further back into her skull, as a stream of cries and whimpers poured from her mouth. She was helpless to do anything but push herself back against him as he pounded into her, slamming her back onto his cock over and over, as he moaned and cursed under his breath.  

“Fuck,” Sanemi panted in her ear. “Y/N – just stay. With me. Please.”

But Y/N did not answer him; could not, due to the incessant roll of his hips into hers, as Sanemi increased the force with which he thrust into her with every passing second, threatening to snatch every sane thought from her head.

Sanemi pushed her leg further up on his kitchen counter, a hand coming to rest against a cupboard to steady himself as he thrust deeper into her velvet heat.

His lips danced down the back of her neck, biting and sucking. The drive of his hips forced hers to bounce against the counter, the cheap plywood and plaster biting into her hipbones with every impassioned thrust of Sanemi’s cock as he withdrew from her glistening core, only to slam himself back into her.

“Ngh, Sanemi,” Y/N moaned, pushing herself back against him, needing him to go faster, harder, to make her forget all the ways he’d made her feel lonely and unwanted.

He bit down on her shoulder blade as his thrusts grew sloppy. “God, you feel so fuckin’ good for me, baby.”

Y/N was too enthralled by the hurried drag of Sanemi’s length in and out of her desperate cunt to care that he’d referred to her as “baby.” He could call her anything, anything at all, as long as he kept fucking her the way he was, against his kitchen counter.

Sanemi angled his hips and began hammering at the spot deep inside her that had her vision nearly whitening out.

“Fuck, S-Sanemi,” She whined. “I’m gonna cum—.” The ache in her belly flared the way it always did whenever Sanemi brought her close to her end.

“Not yet,” Sanemi groaned, though he found it difficult to keep holding himself back. “Stay with me a little longer, sweetheart.” One hand left its bruising grip on her hip in favor of reaching around her to squeeze at her breasts, as he rolled one of her nipples between his expert fingers.

“I can’t,” Y/N cried, begging. “Sanemi, please, oh please-,”

Sanemi removed his arms from her and brought them to the front of her knees, straightening her legs so they stuck out behind her, one braced on either side of his hips as he increased his rhythm, the loud clap of Y/N’s skin against the counter as he pounded harder into her threatening to drown out her moans.

Once he was sure she would not lower her legs, Sanemi’s hand came down against her backside, smacking her as he bounced her against him.

Y/N cried out in pleasure, beseeching Sanemi to do it again, and he obliged, bringing his hand down against her other cheek as she sobbed. Sanemi hissed as he felt the eager walls of her cunt squeeze him to the point of pain, keeping his bruising length locked within her as he chased his release.

The slight sting of his hand against the sensitive skin of her ass was too much for her to bear; with a keening howl, Y/N shattered around him, Sanemi following suit as his cum shot into her with a force that made him see white, her name the only mantra on his lips.

She was still in the thick of her orgasm when Sanemi abruptly pulled out, his cum dripping from her spasming core and onto the floor beneath them. She didn’t have time to protest, however, as Sanemi dropped to his knees behind her, where she was still spread wide for him, and began to feast upon her, his teeth and lips wrapping around her clit and sucking so hard, she nearly levitated off the counter, her thighs clamping tight around his head.

Y/N could not find it within herself to feel sorry for his neighbors as she screamed his name, her throat burning with the effort as Sanemi hauled her back to her peak and sent her tumbling over it once more, this time stronger than she’d ever felt.

He did not stop; he continued to suck at her through the prolonged waves of her climax, his warm fingers coming to slide into her opening and massage his cum into her quivering walls, making her see stars as his fingertips brushed the spongy part of her innermost wall, her legs spasming around him.

A gush of fluid sprang forth from her, thoroughly coating Sanemi’s face and he groaned with satisfaction, pressing his mouth even harder against her, as though the mixture of his cum with hers was the most intoxicating elixir ever to pass his lips.

Y/N’s pleasure-delirious sobs were muffled against the counter as the aftershock of her successive orgasms wracked through her, her body quivering from the exertion. As the spasms in her cunt subsided, Sanemi finally stepped away, pressing featherlight kisses against her spine, so gentle in contrast with the delightfully brutal way he’d just reminded her that she’d never be able to run away from this – from him.

Sanemi rocked back on his heels, hands braced against the counter as he caught his breath. “Let me clean you up,” he said after a moment, his voice hoarse.

Y/N’s limbs had been reduced to liquid, so she did not complain as he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his bathroom.

He sat her gently on the edge of his tub and moved behind her to turn the water on, holding his fingers under the steady stream until it was hot – just the way he knew she liked it.

“I don’t want to take a fucking bath here,” Y/N snapped, turning to glare at him. “Just give me a towel and be done with it.”

Sanemi recoiled slightly, and it made her chest hurt. “Was – was that okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Only in every way a person could be hurt, but not through his actions in the kitchen. She wanted nothing more than to take his face in her hands and kiss him, to assure him that, at the very least, she’d loved every second of the way he’d spread her across his counter. But the love in Y/N’s heart had turned it into a black, decaying lump, and so, her response only matched her rotten core.

“It was fine – we’re not a fucking couple,” She snatched a washcloth from his hand and shoved it under the faucet, dampening it and then moving to wipe it between her legs. “So, stop trying to act like we are.”

Sanemi stood back, his arms folding across his chest and his expression unreadable. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled after a moment. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

It was the gentleness with which he spoke to her that enraged her even more, even though she knew she was being irrational. “It’s whatever,” she muttered, folding the used washcloth back up and laying it neatly over the edge of the bathtub. “I’ve gotta go.”

Sanemi nodded and left the bathroom, still naked himself, and returned with her discarded clothes and underwear. Once he’d passed them to her, he retreated back to his room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Y/N tried to ignore the guilt in her stomach when he did not emerge to say goodbye, as she opened his front door and disappeared into the mid-day sun.

—————————————————————————

All of her friends were traitors.

Not one of them was in the mood to venture out with her, not even Mitsuri, who was newly in a relationship with Obanai, the moody, awkward boy having finally plucked up the courage to confess his feelings for the bubbly pinkette.

Thus, Mitsuri no longer needed Wisteria or sticky drinks to feel high; she had love.

Y/N was happy for her – really; but she wasn’t happy to lose her reliable going-out friend.

So Y/N was on her own at the Kizuki lounge, though she didn’t really mind all that much. She’d become such a regular in that dark den of iniquity that a few other lost souls recognized her as their own and were only happy to dance with her. Unfortunately, however, Shinobu was nowhere in sight, and thus, Y/N was left utterly without the comforting lull of her friend’s Wisteria.  

As Y/N pounded back another round of shots, wincing at the burn of the green apple liquor which slid down her throat, a sultry voice spoke.

“Well, it’s rare to see such a beautiful thing like you alone in a place like this,” Y/N turned and saw a familiar yet unnerving pair of eyes – the same she’d seen a few weeks earlier at the club, the first night she’d danced with Sanemi – blinking at her.

He was familiar – she’d seen him around on campus and knew him to be relatively involved with student life. Y/N scoured her brain, trying to place a name on the white-haired man smiling at her like she was something to be devoured.  

“Douma, right?” Y/N recalled, and the man nodded, his smile widening revealing a set of too-sharp canines.

“I’m flattered you know my name,” his voice was almost flirty, if not for the sickeningly sweet edge in it that set the hair on her arms standing. “Though, I only know you as Shinobu’s friend,” he pouted.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You know Shinobu?”

The man with the jewel-colored eyes nodded, smiling dreamily. “Shinobu and I are old friends – business partners, even. And me and her sister go way back.” Douma reached out and toyed with a loose strand of Y/N’s hair, and she fought the urge to shudder. “Tell me your name, gorgeous? I’ve seen you around, though Shinobu always barks before I ever have the chance to talk to you.”

Y/N laughed, softly. “Shinobu’s bark is always worse than her bite, I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Douma leaned in close, and his cologne was strong and sensual in a way that made Y/N’s head feel fogged. “And what about your bite? Surely, someone who hangs around with Shinobu is bound to pack a bit of a punch.”

He knew how to flatter, she’d give him that. “I’m afraid I’m all bark, Douma.” And, because she felt lonely, and because she felt a little desperate, she added, “Though I might be inclined to bite if given the right incentive.”

Douma tipped his head back and laughed, deeply, and it made Y/N’s heart flutter. “You are something, aren’t you, Y/N? I can’t believe your friends would let you wander out by yourself.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, and helped herself to the smiling man’s drink, his grin only widening as she polished off its contents. “I need no babysitter, unfortunately for them.”

“No you do not,” Douma purred. “Well, since you’re a free agent tonight, how about you come by my place? My roommate and I are throwing a huge party – I’d bet nearly half the campus is there already.”

Y/N didn’t doubt it; Douma’s parties were something of a campus legend.

“And, I believe I have something that might make it worth your while,” Douma smirked, pulling a small plastic baggie from his pocket. Within it, sat three of those coveted lilac pills, and Y/N’s mouth watered.

“I think that’s exactly the kind of incentive a girl looks for,” Y/N teased, standing with Douma to leave the Kizuki, the latter’s hand coming to rest on the small of her back. Y/N and Douma chatted animatedly as he led her to his car, and Y/N could almost ignore the unease tugging incessantly in her stomach.

She shook off the feeling. After all, if she squinted hard enough, Douma could almost pass as Sanemi.

—————————————————————————

Kyojuro answered his phone with a noncommittal grunt.

“Akaza?” He said, surprise coloring his features. Sanemi perked up at the name of the boy from their hometown but was filled with unease at the way Kyojuro’s face darkened.

“We’re on our way.” Kyojuro clicked his phone off and met Sanemi’s questioning look.

“You know that party on 52nd? We need to go — now.” Kyojuro was already rising, his wallet and keys in hand.

Sanemi didn’t question his best friend, but his phone dinged in time with Kyojuro’s, and both paled at the text image they’d received from an unknown number, sent to each person in their friend group.

It was an image of Y/N, though only half her face was visible — but it was clear she was crying and she looked fucking terrified. Mascara streaked down her cheeks as she held her arms up protectively in front of her. But those too-thin arms could not obscure the blooded, crescent-shaped bite mark just above her breast.

Shinobuuuu your friend is lovely! The message below the image read.

A second, follow-up message dinged. Next time, fucking pay me, hm?

Kyojuro looked back in horror at his best friend but broke into a cold sweat as he beheld the murderous rage that caused his friend to tremble.

“Let’s go.” It was all the white-haired man said as the pair slammed Kyojuro’s apartment door behind them and head for his car.

—————————————————————————

“There you go, Y/N – you should be safe here until we can get you out, yeah?” The pink-haired man opened a door to a hidden closet behind the stairwell in his private room, one he knew with certainty that Douma knew nothing about. “I called you a ride already.”

Y/N sniffled, wiping at her cheeks as she brushed by the man to sit on a trunk sitting in the closet. “Thank you, Hakuji. I owe you one.”

Akaza smiled and shook his head. He’d always liked Y/N – she was always kind to him growing up, and she was one of the few people to call him by his actual name, rather than that abhorrent nickname that he couldn’t seem to shake.

“Nah, I can’t stand that fucker,” Akaza grimaced, checking behind him to ensure no one had snuck in and found them hiding. “Douma always takes things too far. I try to help when I can, but I don’t have eyes everywhere.” He frowned as he considered her. “I’m just glad I saw him bring you in.”

Y/N didn’t say anything, instead only nodding. Akaza sighed. “I’d better get back to the party. Douma’ll go snooping if he can’t find me and I really don’t want to risk him finding you again.” He began to push the door shut. “This locks from the inside. Don’t open it for anyone else – I’ll come get you when your ride is here.”

Y/N nodded. “Thanks again, Hakuji. Say hi to Koyuki for me the next time you see her.”

Akaza smiled warmly and closed the closet door, sealing Y/N safely within.

————————————————————————-

For Y/N, sitting alone in that cramped, dark closet, it felt like hours had passed since Hakuji had locked her away, out of sight from Douma’s unnerving eyes. Y/N was getting antsy, until the sound of gasps and screams from below set her stomach twisting with panic. She began to hyperventilate when she heard footsteps – two pairs, one heavier than the other – rapidly approaching the closet door as the knob began to twist.

Tears were leaking down her face, hot and fast, as a knock sounded against the door.

“Y/N!” Someone hissed. “It’s me – open the door.” It was not Akaza on the other side, but a much warmer, much more familiar voice that had her nearly sobbing with relief.

With a shaking hand, Y/N flipped the lock and the door swung open, revealing the most comforting presence she’d ever known.

Kyojuro stared at her, a mess on the floor of Hakuji’s closet, his expression unreadable. Leaning towards her, he closed a warm hand gently around her wrist and hauled her to her feet, his eyes running over her as those scanning for injury. His nostrils flared at the small dab of blood that had dried on her shirt, concealing the bruising bite mark below.

Kyojuro’s burning grip remained on her as he led her out of Hakuji’s room – the pink-haired man nodding reassuringly at her as she passed him by. Kyojuro halted at the top of the small staircase to the main floor, an eerie silence interrupted only by an occasional gasp below.

He turned back to Y/N, his face stony. “Don’t look,” he warned. “Keep your eyes forward until we get out of here, no matter what.”

A lump formed in Y/N’s throat as the pair descended the stairs, slowly. They almost made it to the front door, where Y/N could see Kyojuro’s car pulled half-onto the lawn outside, still running, when a strange wet thump snapped Y/N’s attention to the adjacent room where party attendees had been dancing only moments before.

Y/N froze as she took in the crowd, gathered, and parted around two men, hunched on the floor, as they all looked on in stunned horror.

It was Sanemi, with Douma pinned beneath his knees, as he mercilessly pounded his fist into her would-be assailant’s face.

Douma was covered in scarlet, and the swollen features of his face were nearly unrecognizable as Sanemi slammed his knuckles into him, over and over. Douma only wheezed out a laugh, apparently egging Sanemi on.

Y/N parted her mouth in horror, ready to call out for Sanemi to stop, but Kyojuro tugged her sharply through the front door and away from the grisly scene.

“Don’t,” he said, softly. “Let him get it out.”

Kyojuro hauled her to his car, pausing only to open his passenger door before gently pushing her to sit down in the worn seat. Y/N didn’t challenge him as he reached over her and buckled her seatbelt, noting the fire raging in his eyes.

Her friend rejoined her on the driver’s side and pulled roughly out of the yard of Douma’s party house, speeding off down the street. Y/N opened her mouth to speak – to say anything, when Kyojuro held up his hand as his other pulled his phone free from his pocket. He read something on the screen, before clicking it off, returning his eyes to the road.

“It’s Tengen – cops have been called.” He explained, his voice low and face hard.

Y/N swallowed thickly. “Sanemi’s going to get arrested.”

Kyojuro snorted. “If Tengen shows up first, Sanemi will be fine. The cops have been looking to bust Douma for months.” Kyojuro slowed at a stoplight and cut his eyes over to where Y/N sat, curled on his seat, looking so small and so vulnerable.

“Y/N,” his voice possessed a gentleness she didn’t deserve, and it only made her mash her lips together in an effort to keep the tears in her eyes. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

She flinched, folding her arms tight across her chest, the spot where Douma bit her aching. Slowly, the memory of a phone camera flashing in her face, mere seconds before Hakuji had exploded into the room, cursing up a storm at Douma as he’d covered her with a blanket, blitzed out of her mind.

“The photos,” she whispered, hands covering her mouth in horror. “Oh, god –,”

Kyojuro’s hands tightened on his steering wheel, his knuckles white. “Y/N,” his voice cracked, just like her heart. “If you’d rather me call one of the girls, I will --,”

Y/N shook her head, urgently. “No, no, Kyo, he didn’t – he only bit me.”

Kyojuro’s grip on the steering wheel relaxed, though only marginally so. “Only bit you,” he repeated, shaking his head in disgust, that cold rage still pulling at his face, contorting the face she loved into something brutal, violent, and unforgiving.

He looked back at her as she trembled in his passenger seat. “What do you need, Y/N?”

Y/N fought to keep her voice steady. “Can – can you just drive, Kyo? Please?”

He nodded, and the two drove in silence for an hour, her friend randomly getting off and on the interstate as the sights of the city passed them aimlessly by.

Kyojuro abruptly pulled his car over to the side of the road, coming to a stop and slamming it into park, before turning to look at her.

“Y/N,” the sound of his voice was so strangled, so pained, that Y/N couldn’t stop the tears from falling down her face, and into her lap. “What the fuck?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N sobbed quietly into her hands. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, Kyo.” Her vision was completely obscured by the saltwater that would not stop, her breath becoming panicked.

“I don’t even remember fucking it all up. All I know is I was so fucking angry with you two, and now -,” Y/N cut herself off with a hiccup.

“It’s all so fucked,” her breath was choppy as her tears increased, her hands rising to clutch at her chest. “You – you and Sanemi --,”

Kyojuro got out of his car and walked around to her side, opening the door to tug her out of the passenger seat and into his arms, crushing her against his chest.

“Y-you left me,” Y/N sobbed into the thin fabric of his tee shirt. “I needed my friend, and you left me,”

“I know,” Kyojuro’s tears dampened her hair. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“H-how could you do that, to your best friend?” She cried, clutching his shirt in her hands until her knuckles turned white. “You were my brother, Kyojuro.”

“You promised things would be okay, and then they weren’t. And you didn’t even try.” Y/N pushed away from him then, anger burning through the tears in her eyes. “Friends don’t do that; family doesn’t do that.”

Kyojuro looked as broken as she felt. “I broke every promise I made to you, I know,” he said hoarsely. “I swore I wouldn’t let you get too far away --,”

Y/N exploded.

“Get too far away?” She swore at him, hands angrily wiping the salt from her cheeks. “You abandoned me, you left me hung out to dry!”

Y/N’s hands balled to fists at her side, as she shook. “Sanemi at least arguably had an excuse. You had none. Nothing about what I did — what I said — meant I deserved that,” her eyes, angry and broken, met his own teary gaze once more. “I didn’t deserve that.”

“Y/N,” Kyojuro started, but the furious girl cut him off.

“Shut up, Kyojuro,” she snapped, and for once, the flame-haired man looked lost for words. “Do you have any idea what it was like? To watch you and him carry on as though nothing happened – as though I didn’t fucking exist?”

“And when my mom got sick? She used to feed you and your brother, you – you – selfish asshole,” Y/N was nearly hyperventilating in her ire, as twenty-two months of heartache, pain, and rage boiled out of her all at once. “And you couldn’t even check in?”

“I tried,” Kyojuro cut her off, somewhat forcefully, at her last accusation. “I tried to check in, Y/N. During the summer – I saw the ambulance leaving your house, but I couldn’t leave Senjuro by himself.”

“I came by the first thing the next morning, but no one answered. You --,” Kyojuro hesitated. “You must’ve still been at the hospital. I should’ve checked.”

Y/N laughed without humor. “Visiting doesn’t matter. You had a phone. You know how to use it, and you couldn’t send a fucking text.”

The blonde exhaled, and the tiredness on his face softened some part inside of her, made her want to hug him because deep down, she hated that Kyojuro could ever look so worn down.

“Nothing I say is going to make up for it. I know that.” He whispered. “If I could turn back time, I would, Y/N. Please believe me when I say I would.”

Kyojuro dragged a tired hand down his face, smearing the tears across his cheeks as he did so, and he looked toward his old friend, brokenly. “But I’m here now,” He said, pleadingly. “I’m sorry if that’s still not enough; I understand if it isn’t. But please, let me be here for you, now. Even if that means you hate me.”

Y/N did not expect to break so suddenly, but the sight of Kyojuro openly weeping before her, combined with the bruising sincerity of his words, whittled away all of the hardness she’d built up and struck her right in her heart.

“Oh Kyo,” Y/N shuddered a sob, her shoulders shaking under the weight of her tears as Kyojuro stepped forward once more and enveloped her in his arms. “I could never hate you,”

For the first time in nearly two years, Y/N returned Kyojuro’s hug with the same ferocity she once had, and part of her hoped, oh so timidly, that the force with which he embraced her would slowly work to put her back together again – to make her whole.

The two almost siblings melted into one another, each one muttering a litany of I’m sorrys, and I love you‘s. For a long while, the pair stood there, on the side of the road, swaddled in the other’s embrace as they sobbed together, for both the children they once were, and the adults the world had forced them to become.

Eventually, the pair found themselves back in Kyojuro’s car, still driving with no real destination in mind; only this time, the two blasted music from their high school days and loudly sang off-key together, laughing carefree as their broken hearts mended, song by song. They drove until Y/N yawned, and Kyojuro sternly, but teasingly, noted it was well past her bedtime.

“You scare the shit out of him, you know,” Kyojuro said after a long while, eyes still fixed resolutely on the road leading to Y/N’s apartment.

Y/N, who’d been watching the blur of stars in the night sky as they sped down the highway, rolled her head toward him to look at him, her face skeptical. “Sanemi? Sanemi Shinazugawa, scared of me?” She scoffed, turning her attention back to the night sky as it whizzed past her window.

Kyojuro reached for her hand, and Y/N could have cried at how warm and comforting it felt. “He thinks he’s lost you for good. He does regret how things went down, you know; he did from the get-go.”

“I think he’s afraid he’s going to wake up one day and find you’ll just be gone entirely. Completely unreachable.”

Y/N stretched her fingers to play with the series of necklaces Kyojuro had dangling from his rearview mirror, admiring the way they twinkled under the passing streetlights. “He would have to care to be afraid, Kyo, and you and I both know that he doesn’t care about me.” She chewed on her lip. “Not in that way.”

Kyojuro finally pulled to a stop in front of her apartment. He took his time putting his car in park and shutting it off, before turning back to her, his face solemn. “If you can’t see how crazy he is about you, then I don’t know what else I can say.”

The fire in his stare was scorching, and Y/N fidgeted under the intensity of both his gaze and his words. “He barely knows me, Kyo. He doesn’t know what he wants.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Kyojuro said, though not too harshly. “You might want to believe you’re a different person now, but you’re still you. I promise you, you’re still the Y/N we both know – and love.”

Y/N’s tear fell down her cheeks anew, as she’d not realized how badly she needed to hear that she was still herself – that she wasn’t just a shell of the person she once was, never fully present and never fully worth giving a damn about.

“I think you want to believe he doesn’t care because it makes it easier on you to pretend like you’re just using him.” Kyojuro’s words cut through her like a knife.

Y/N winced and opened her mouth to respond, but Kyojuro raised a hand, silencing her.

“I’m not saying you mean to,” Kyojuro’s words stung, but they were earnest. “And I don’t necessarily think you are – but I think you’re running from him, because you are frightened.”

“What would you have me do, Kyo?” Y/N asked, slightly exasperated as her head thudded back against the worn fabric of his car seat.

“Are you still in love with him?” Kyojuro asked, and it took great effort for Y/N not to roll her eyes at him. “Then you must let him in, Y/N. He wants your love – very much so – of that, I’m certain.”

“He has always wanted my love,” Y/N snorted. “He’s like a jealous, possessive dragon that way. The problem is with him returning it.”

Kyojuro sighed, before getting out of his car and rounding to her side, opening her door for her. “As I said before,” he reached a warm hand to muss her hair as she stood, stretching her stiff limbs from the hours they’d spent driving around the city. “If you can’t see how crazy Sanemi is about you, then I can’t help you.”

Kyojuro’s lips pressed against her forehead, warm and steady, and it felt like home. “Give him a chance, Y/N. Let him into your heart, and he will gladly give you his.”

—————————————————————————

After ensuring Y/N was safely inside her apartment, Kyojuro continued to drive for another hour.

The emotions of the night weighed too heavily on his shoulders, and Kyojuro knew going back to his apartment would end in nothing but him tossing for hours in bed, replaying the last conversation with Y/N in his head, over and over.

—————————————————————————

 One year earlier

“Where’s your date, Shinazugawa?” Kyojuro chuckled, reaching for a beer. He was disheartened to see that only one was left, Sanemi having finished at least three since arriving at his place.

“Called off,” Sanemi said thickly, his words slightly garbled as he tried to fake his own sobriety – the surest sign he was already drunk off his ass.

Kyojuro clapped his shoulder sympathetically. “You or her?”

Sanemi took another swig of his drink. “Me.” He looked up at his best friend and Kyojuro was shocked to see how forlorn and sad the hothead looked. “None of ‘em are her.”

It was rare that Sanemi brought her up, especially in the wake of everything that had happened after Genya’s death. But Kyojuro hadn’t been foolish enough to think that a substantial part of the chip on Sanemi’s shoulder hadn’t stemmed from his complicated feelings about her – Y/N.

Their best friend, at least, once upon a time.

Though as Kyojuro supposed, it wasn’t as if Sanemi’s feelings about their friend were really all that complicated. He’d known the abrasive loudmouth had longed for the trio’s only girl since any of them had understood what it meant to long for someone.

Kyojuro had seen his friend’s feelings on display countless times since they were teenagers. He saw it in the way Sanemi’s eyes softened every time she smiled at him, or the way Sanemi seemed to always lean into her touch whenever she brushed something from his hair.

Then, there had been that time after Y/N had her braces put in – they’d been around thirteen or so – and she’d refused to smile with her teeth, until Sanemi had snapped at her and said she’d looked constipated.

Y/N’s eyes had filled with tears, and her cheeks had burned with her embarrassment until he’d squatted down in front of her.

“Why’d’ya wanna hide your smile anyways – it’s too pretty.” He’d said, very matter-of-factly, leaning in close to her face as he always did when he teased her. “C’mon, show me! I wanna see your smile!”

Shyly, Y/N had smiled at him, braces and all, and Sanemi had grinned back, nodding in satisfaction. “See? What’d I tell ya? Pretty as a picture.”

Then, there had been their senior prom, when Sanemi had gotten wind of another boy’s plan to ask her to be his date. Though the big dance had still more than six months away, Sanemi had stormed into the cafeteria, plopped down from her as she ate with the Koyuki girl, and demanded she attend with him.

When the night of their prom arrived, Kyojuro thought Sanemi was going to pass out the moment he saw Y/N descend the stars at her mother’s house, dressed in that floor-length emerald dress. Throughout the whole night, Sanemi had treated their best friend as though she were made of glass, his hands for once hesitant and uncertain as he’d found her waist during a slow dance. Kyojuro had truly thought his friends would finally, finally kiss and admit their poorly concealed feelings for one another. But Sanemi had returned Y/N to her mother, the latter only parting with a soft kiss against the flustered boy’s cheek before disappearing inside.

How could they have known that night, just how far they’d all fall? How could they know how Genya’s death would shatter more than his brother, but indelibly fracture their life-long bond and transform them into total strangers?

————————————————————————

 Ten months earlier

Kyojuro didn’t mind working for the enrollment center at Ubaya-U.

Sure, the work was a little tedious, if not monotonous, especially at the start of a new semester, but at least that meant his shift passed him by quickly.

That particular day, Kyojuro had been tasked with finalizing the class registers for his year – the juniors – as the add/drop period had finally passed, and thus, schedules were to be finalized for the semester.

He’d spent hours tabbing through page after page of student schedules, entering data and clicking the small arrow at the bottom of his screen to move onto the next student ID number, over and over, until the figures on his computer blurred together. But Kyojuro had finally entered the schedule for the last student, and he was eager to hit “ENTER,” and get the fuck home.

His back aching and wrist cramping, Kyojuro hit the command key that promised release.

ERROR. The screen read. ONE OR MORE ENTRIES MISSING.

“Fuck,” Kyojuro muttered, and he hit the “ENTER” key once more, in hopes that the system had merely hiccupped after having been in use for so long.

The same ERROR message flashed across his screen once more.

Kyojuro exhaled, pinching his nose as his eyes screwed shut in frustration, the beginnings of a headache creeping in around his temples. Shoving himself away from his desk, Kyojuro stood and stalked over to his supervisor, who was just as numbly tabbing through a spreadsheet.

“Murata,” Kyojuro said, trying to keep his growing anger in check. It was a Friday night and he just wanted to go home and do stupid college things, dammit.

The tired shift supervisor grunted in answer, turning in his swivel seat towards the fuming college junior.

“I entered all of the student schedules, but the system is flagging some sort of error.” Kyojuro produced a printed-out spreadsheet of every student ID number and handed it to his manager, who took note of the neat, precise little checkmarks next to every line that signaled Kyojuro had finalized the correlating schedule. “Can you take a look?”

“Sure thing,” even though Kyojuro often thought Murata was, at times, a little inept at his own job, he couldn’t deny the college senior was helpful. Murata pulled up the school’s informatics system and entered his log-in, clicking through various prompts until his screen resembled Kyo’s.

Murata tried to submit the same data that Kyojuro had tried, and the same error message dinged on his screen.

“Huh, that’s odd,” the manager said, unhelpfully. “Let me see if I can use my admin key and find out if there’s anyone you missed.”

Kyojuro resisted the urge to point at his spreadsheet once more; Kyojuro, simply put, never missed an entry when it came to plugging in numbers and codes for work. The same could not be said for Murata.

“Ah, there it is,” to Kyojuro’s surprise, a student profile popped up on Murata’s screen in red, though his supervisor’s head blocked the name. “Number ending in 0851. Let me just –” Murata clicked around the screen and quickly tabbed in a couple of course codes, and hit enter, but the screen erred once more.

“What the – ohhh, I know this number,” Murata said, sitting back in his seat. “Yeah. Okay. You need my code to bypass this one. She got special permission from the university to not finalize her schedule until next week.”

Kyojuro sighed. At least the error hadn’t been on his end.

“Got a pen? You’ll need her name to enter it once the screen prompts you. In the explanation box, just type “special permission/family emergency.”

Kyojuro shook his head. “I’ll remember it. What’s the name?”

“Y/L/N. Y/N.” Murata answered flippantly, though Kyojuro’s stomach lurched. “Yeah, I got an email about her a few weeks ago because she hadn’t returned to campus. The Dean said her mom was in the hospital, and she was the sole caretaker, so her professors all agreed to let her attend online until things mellowed out.”

“Never seen that happen before, she must be one helluva student,” Murata commented as he turned back to Kyojuro. “Hey, in the entry box, put her date of return – I think I remember the email saying it was sometime next month, but let me check.” The supervisor turned back to his screen, blissfully unaware of Kyojuro’s wide eyes or his pounding heart.

“There it is – hm, there’s an update,” Murata remarked, though more to himself than to the pale Junior standing behind him. “Oh my, that’s a shame. Looks like her mom passed away last week, so she’s returning after the funeral, which was --,” Murata squinted. “Yesterday.”

“Yup, seems like she’s due back next week instead. Just put down Monday’s date.” Murata turned back to Kyojuro with a kind smile, but it quickly slipped when he saw the sweat that had broken out across the burly blonde’s forehead and noted the way he shook.

“Rengoku, you good, man?” Murata asked worriedly, though Kyojuro barely heard him over the roaring in his head and the sound of his heart-shattering.

“Y-yeah,” Kyojuro’s voice cracked. “Murata, would you mind entering that information for me? I feel like I’m going to be sick.” Kyojuro did not wait for his supervisor’s answer as he grabbed his backpack and stumbled out of the Student Affairs office, as he fought to keep down the bile that rose in his throat.

Kyojuro did not remember the walk back to his apartment; he remembered only the rush of grief, and crushing sadness, as he recalled the kind woman who’d shown him such love and affection after his own mother died, that he’d thought of her as a second mother.

He thought of Y/N – oh god, Y/N, who now lived in a world in which she had no family left. No home to go back to.

Alone.

He hadn’t known; Sanemi hadn’t known.

Kyojuro stumbled through the front door of his apartment, vaguely noting that Sanemi had already let himself in, and helped himself to whatever was in Kyojuro’s well-stocked refrigerator.

“Man, I’ve had a fuckin day,” Sanemi’s gravelly voice rang over the muted sounds of his television as he chowed down on a helping of sweet potatoes Kyojuro had meal prepped a few days earlier.

“Sanemi,” Kyojuro tried weakly, though Sanemi seemed not to hear him over his own, loud complaining.

“-and four papers, and we’re barely a month into school. I can’t wait to fuckin’ graduate and get the hell out of this place --,”

“Sanemi,” Kyojuro said again, more forcefully that time, cutting his friend’s impassioned rambling off. At the serious, monotonous tone in his best friend’s voice, Sanemi fell silent. “It’s Y/N, she – h-her…”

Kyojuro’s voice wobbled. Sanemi dropped his fork into the plastic container that contained Kyojuro’s food and stared at him, eyes wide, as he sucked his breath through his teeth. Whatever news his friend had to deliver, it would not be good.

“Is – is Y/N okay?” Sanemi asked tentatively, his voice shaking slightly. He felt the color drain from his cheeks as Kyojuro slowly shook his head. As childish as it seemed, Kyojuro wanted to run, because if he did not speak those awful words, then perhaps they would not be real.

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

————————————————————————-

Nine months earlier

Sanemi barged into his apartment without knocking, nearly toppling over the coatrack Kyojuro kept in the entryway.

“Shinazugawa,” he’d started to chastise, but fell silent at the look on his best friend’s face, a strange mixture of nausea and despair etched into his features.

“I saw her, Kyo,” Sanemi croaked, pale and shaking as he ripped open Kyojuro’s fridge and grabbed a beer, not bothering to ask as he wrenched the bottle cap off and took a healthy swig.

“Y/N?” Kyojuro’s eyebrows furrowed, as he followed his friend into his sparsely decorated living room, Sanemi shakily sitting on the small sofa, head braced between his hands.

“Did you talk to her? How was she?” Kyojuro pressed, but Sanemi refused to lift his head to meet his eyes.

“I saw her,” Sanemi repeated, his voice trembling almost as badly as his hands. “And I didn’t know it was her.”

Kyojuro shook his head in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean -,”

“I didn’t recognize her, Kyojuro. Not at first,” Sanemi finally looked up and Kyojuro’s stomach twisted at the tears pooling in his friend’s eyes. “How could I not recognize our best friend?”

Kyojuro threw an arm around Sanemi’s shoulders. “It’s been a while,” he said, gruffly, “It’s just been a while since we saw her –.”

“You don’t get it,” Sanemi said, wide-eyed and haunted. “Y/N looks different – she’s so fucking thin, Kyojuro, that I couldn’t recognize her.”

————————————————————————

One month earlier

“So you – you and Y/N,” Kyojuro began, and Sanemi nodded, dragging a hand over his face.

“I am never touching that Wisteria shit again,” the lavender-eyed man vowed, darkly. “I fucking lost control.”

Kyojuro frowned, his stomach shifting uncomfortably. “What do you mean?”

Sanemi flung himself back against the cushion of his sofa, arm draped over his eyes in an attempt to stifle the tears that gathered there. “I fuckin’ hurt her, man.”

The blonde sighed, settling back against the sofa with his friend, thumbs twiddling with a loose string on his shirt. “You didn’t mean to, you know. Sometimes that just – it just happens.”

Trust Sanemi to be this dramatic being Y/N’s first – the man had practically screamed into the phone at him when he’d discovered the small speckle of blood on his sheets and realized that Y/N was nowhere to be found.

Though, Kyojuro never imagined Sanemi would be this frantic about the ordeal.  

Sanemi lowered his arm to stare at his best friend, bewildered. “It doesn’t fucking matter,” he ran an anxious hand through his hair. “I can’t fucking trust myself on that shit, and I’ll be damned if I hurt her again.”

“I’m done with it all, Kyojuro,” Sanemi swore once more. “For her, I’m fuckin’ done with it.”

————————————————————————-

Two weeks earlier

Kyojuro jogged to where his friend stood, smoking a cigarette as his eyes scanned over the various food trucks that had gathered on the street near his apartment, considering the wide variety of choices.

“You’re the only person I know who could make that look somewhat appealing,” Kyojuro grumbled as Sanemi took another drag, grinning. Sanemi had quit both alcohol and Wisteria cold turkey but had become such an irritable bitch as he went through withdrawal that Kyojuro had practically begged him to find something to help him take the edge off.

So, Sanemi had traded one vice for another and had taken to smoking, though he could tell his friend hated it. Sanemi hoped that his shakes would soon subside, and he could kick the nasty habit before it became another problem for him to deal with.

“What are you in the mood for?” Sanemi asked as the pair began to leisurely stroll around the crowded plaza. “And don’t say sweet potatoes – we’ve been eating healthy all goddamn week; I need something greasy.”

Kyojuro chuckled. “I’m quite in the mood for a burger if you’re up for it.” He offered and Sanemi nodded in agreement. The pair joined the relatively lengthy queue outside a food truck grill, the scent of charcoal and meat promising to feed their empty bellies.

The pair made small talk as they waited, Sanemi nearly finishing his cigarette in the time it took them to reach the front of the line. Just before they were set to order, Sanemi’s phone dinged in his pocket, and the white-haired man pulled it free, puffing on the last of his cigarette as he did so.

“Ah, shit,” Sanemi sighed, though he did not look particularly crestfallen as he glanced back to his friend. “Sorry, man – duty calls.”

Kyojuro scoffed at his choice of words. “Duty,” he shook his head. “You mean Y/N?”

“You’d feel that way too if you slept around –”

“Yeah, but it’s not just ‘sleeping around’ to you, is it?” Kyojuro asked pointedly, and Sanemi fell silent. “You don’t sleep with anyone else. Does she?”

His friend shook his head. “Nah, we made an agreement – we’re – well, we don’t use condoms,” at the horrified look on Kyojuro’s face, Sanemi blushed. “She’s on birth control! ‘Sides,” Sanemi swallowed, awkwardly. “With all the weight she’s lost, and all the shit she’s been taking, I don’t think it’s likely she could – well, get pregnant.”

Kyojuro pinched his brow between his fingers. “Pregnancy isn’t the only reason to use condoms, you dolt,”

Sanemi harrumphed at him. “Look, I used protection with the other two girls, and I got tested not long after,” Sanemi quickly drew his cigarette back to his mouth, a sure sign of his growing discomfort with the conversation. “And, as Mitsuri so tactfully pointed out, I was her first, so I know she’s clean.”

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Sanemi snapped at the reproachful look in his friend’s owlish gaze. “It feels better, y’know.”

Kyojuro only shook his head. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Sanemi?”

Sanemi looked away from him, shifting awkwardly back and forth on his feet. “You know why, man,” he said quietly, and Kyojuro’s heart clenched.

“Look, I love and worry after Y/N too, but she’s using you --,”

“So what if she is?” Sanemi croaked, taking a harsh drag of his cigarette. “She can use me as much as she wants. I don’t mind.”

Kyojuro’s eyes softened. “Sanemi –”

“At least it means I can keep an eye on her.” Sanemi flicked the dying butt to the ground, crushing it beneath the toe of his boot as he sauntered away, holding his hand up over his shoulder in farewell as he set off back across the lively street.

—————————————————————————

(Y/N’s POV)

Y/N dragged herself up the stairs of the apartment she shared with Mitsuri and Shinobu, a tiredness she’d not felt in a long while settling into her weary bones. Her head ached from the strain of the evening, and she knew her eyes were likely red and puffy from the hours of her crying.

Shakily, she slid her key through the lock and opened her front door, quietly relieved at the darkened silence of her apartment, which meant both of her roommates were out.

Closing the door behind her, Y/N slid to the floor in the entryway, and did not move; for a long while, she stared blankly at the dark kitchen before her, her mind replaying her conversation with Kyojuro on a loop, though the mark on her breast, with its pulsing ache, demanded her attention.

With a sigh, Y/N heaved herself up off the kitchen floor and shuffled her way to her room, silently thanking her luck that she’d managed to pull the bedroom with the in-suite bathroom, which meant she could curl up on the floor of her shower for as long as she wanted, without the fear of either of her friends needing the toilet.

Once she’d stripped herself of the evening’s outfit, Y/N inspected the wound on her chest.

It felt worse than it looked. There was a small bit of dried blood around where Douma’s teeth had broken her skin, and the mouth-shaped mark was angry, red, and already a little purple, but from her cursory examination of it, it seemed like the wound was likely to only bruise, and not scar.

It was the unseen wound that concerned her more; the scar that was assuredly left on her heart.

She’d fucked up – badly.

Granted, she knew it wasn’t her fault that Douma had decided to try and do whatever it was he wanted to do with her – she wasn’t going to blame herself for that.

What was her fault was how badly she’d let things spiral out of control; how badly her use of the Wisteria had become. She wasn’t a medical student by any means, but she knew the tell-tale signs of an abuse problem. Y/N would not venture to say she was addicted, but she feared she was well on her way to that path – unless she did something about it right then.

She braced her hands against the cool porcelain of her sink and looked at her reflection, jolting slightly at the face that stared back at her.

She still looked like herself, granted, but there was an unfamiliar hollowness in her cheeks, a vacancy in her slightly over-large eyes that made her uncomfortable. She stretched and winced at the ease with which she could just make out the number of ribs laying beneath her skin.  

Sanemi had been right – she’d let things go too far.

As she yanked on the shower nozzle to summon the water to chase away Douma’s sickening touch from her skin, Y/N resolved, right there, that she was done with Wisteria. She thought she should be done with alcohol as well, but she feared the symptoms of withdrawal – especially with how great her dependency on the two substances had grown over the last few months.

So, Y/N decided that she would never again allow those toxic little purple pills pass her lips, and slowly – but surely – wean herself off alcohol. She would not go back to the Kizuki, would not let herself give in to the temptations which flashed underneath the colorful strobe lights of the dance floor.

Her life, it appeared, depended upon it.

[shelby-love]

HANK VOIGHT

A Dark Day

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warning(s): none

Author's note: This is set during S02EP20 of Chicago Fire (A Dark Day), when Med is blown up. Hope you enjoy and happy reading!

~

"Ma'am I need you to stay where you are! Help is on the way."

When you scheduled your appointment at Med, you weren't expecting to schedule it on the day the hospital was blown up.

Sitting in the waiting room one moment, and then being crushed by the impact of a bomb was not, by any means, on your to-do list that day.

But it happened and there was nothing you could do about it, meaning you had to ignore the pain in your knee in order to push through and help the wounded.

Fresh new cuts and bruises decorated your body, elevating the pain level in your body as you moved around the debris that came crashing down on you from the blow.

"Dammit." You muttered, turning around to face a boy. He was filthy and hurt, with clothes torn to reveal scratches and blood. He took a hard blow, but his overall condition suggested that he will be alright.

You smiled when you crouched down next to him, "This country never ceases to amaze me."

"Yeah," He grunted. "I don't know how they thought blowing up the ER was a good idea."

"Tell me about it."

***

Outside, amidst the chaos, the Intelligence unit descended their cars along with their Sergeant behind them. Their boots clicked against the pavement as they seized the building.

The surrounding area was bustling with people even though it was blown apart not too long ago.

"I'll take triage," Voight said before any of them could muster a word.

There was a reason Hank wanted to tend to the wounded. Your appointment wasn’t supposed to take too long but with that knee pain of yours, Hank could bet you didn't even get off the perimeter in time. Your dramatically slow pace used to be the highlight of his day.

Not currently, no.

He was terrified.

"Excuse me," Hank neared a petite woman. She turned around and surprised him with the trauma in her eyes. Even though the nurse was now safe outside, her fingers still shook against the notepad she held close to her chest. "Do you mind telling me if there's anyone by the name of Y/N Y/LN here?"

She nodded, turning a few pages in order to get to your last name. After a moment of tense silence, the woman pulled away and looked at him apologetically. "If your wife isn't here then she's probably still inside. There are a lot of patients and personnel that are still trapped on the higher floors."

Hank didn't even bother to correct her. Instead, he thanked her and turned around keeping his cool intact for 10 seconds.

He brushed past Erin without a glance and left her wondering what's up with him.

"I bet he has someone special inside," Antonio took note and Erin, no matter how much she thought that was bizarre, couldn't argue with what he said.

"You know what? I think you're right."

***

"Took you long enough!"

Kelly's face lit up at your words, "We knew you could handle yourself, so why hurry."

The squad lieutenant had his arms wide to welcome the woman you've been treating and get her down. "They go first."

Nodding, the rest of the team 51 helped the civilians under your orders.

After what you thought to be hours, Kelly took his time strapping you to him with the ropes. "I bet you secretly wanted this to happen."

"If I wanted to work, I'd just push my boyfriend down the stairs," You responded smartly, but covertly knowing full well that surprise jumping Hank Voight wasn't going to work whatsoever. "Also, do not joke about this!"

It looked like the only thing that got to Kelly's ears was your usage of my boyfriend. "You have a boyfriend? Since when?" He asked excitedly.

"You're impossible," You sighed. "Unstrap me. Now."

He did. Eventually.

With a limping knee, you made your way to your very own chief. There was no doubt in your mind that Hank was somewhere here too, probably have already gone berserk.

Your chief didn't clear you off to work, because even after what you pulled upstairs with the civilians still, unfortunately didn't win over the fact that you were injured. Your knee was the reason as to why you weren't cleared for work in the first place, so you weren't really surprised that you weren't cleared for work here, of all places. You were merely just sad.

Sadness turned into relief when you heard Hank barking orders at his team.

They all looked puzzled at his even harsher tone than usual, and you couldn't help but smile.

You knew exactly why.

***

"Don't ever scare me like that again."

The burning gaze he sent your way had you frozen in your tracks; the severity of your situation hitting you in the gut. You were caught in an explosion.

You could have died.

All color drained in your face at that thought.

Hank seemed to have had the same thought invade his mind as he took a few long strides toward you, winding his arms around you and pulling you into him.

You found solace in his arms and fell quiet after a while. Both of you were breathing heavily, still quite grasping the reality in which Hank almost lost you.

"Y/N you're alright," He murmured against your hair and brushed his hand against your back. The kisses he pressed to your head were consolatory in ways words weren't. "You're alright."

"You need to find him Hank," You pulled away and grasped his jacket's collar. "Whoever did this has to pay."

"I will. I promise Y/N," He said, taking your cold hands into his warm ones.

"Good." You whispered that word a few more times, quietly reassuring yourself what he will do right by his promise because the promise wasn't to you only, it was also a promise to everyone who were hurt by the bomb. "I love you Hank."

"I love you." Was his only reply.

All words died down when you kissed. The warmth of his lips filled your body through and through.

You felt like you could do anything.

"Take my car and go home," He told you once you pulled away. "I talked to your chief, and he told me you weren't cleared to work. There's nothing you can do here."

Nodding, you agreed. "It's out of my hands now."

"But not out of mine," Hank said. "We'll get him."

"I know you will Hank. I believe you."

You left the comfort of the lone hospital room with Hank's car key in your hand. The part of the hospital you were in looked normal, save for the bustling personnel that ran around the hall in an odd way. The usual strictness of a hospital, where people were calm and collected seemed like a far thought as you looked around and saw nothing but trauma.

The hope lied with the Intelligence Unit.

The same unit that was now waiting by the door for the Sergeant you just spent 15 minutes with.

They all had the same knowing glittering sparkle in their eyes as they watched you make your way to the door. Hank had no noticeable keychains on his car keys, but you still felt like you had to hide it from their curious eyes. They were quite obvious, you noted.

"That’s her 100%" Erin whispered to Jay.

"Don't be so obvious." Jay rolled his eyes at her lack of expertise.

"I'm not!"

"You kinda are," Adam joined the two, cringing at Erin. "Just… You know…"

"Know what?"

"Don't look at her like you want to poke out her eyeballs." Adam told her, shaking his head at her.

You even dared yourself to smile at the younger group, catching them off guard with their hearts stuck in their throats.

Announcement day was closer than Hank and you thought it was.

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MASTERLIST

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

content warning for a suicide attempt, i'd like some advice on how to deal with things

i tried to kill myself (and it didn't work because i miscalculated the amount of medicine i had to take, so i'm fine and with no access to any more pills to attempt again - please do not worry about that, i'm dealing with it.) my parents knew i overdosed, but not that it was a suicide attempt, because i played dumb and pretended i just accidentally took that much of my prescription meds. they didn't take me to the hospital even after i started showing symptoms. they just treated me like i got a cold or something. i've told them before about my troubles with suicidal thoughts, and instead i was mocked and belittled for "not having enough faith in god", so this was supposed to be a cry for help, and yet. i feel like a fucking failure. nothing i do will ever get through to my parents. i don't know how i'm going to survive the three years it'll take for me to turn 18 so i can cut them off. my grades are suffering, and they're calling me lazy and my teachers are threatening to kick me out of school. i asked for help so many times and never got anything close to it. am i just a faker and everyone else around me can see it? how am i going to reach the age of majority?

Hey there anon,

It can be really hard to reach out for help, especially when it doesn't work out. The adults in your life have not helped you in the ways you need help. I'm so sorry you're going through this. It sounds really difficult. Please know that you deserve care, help, and attention. How you're being treated is not okay.

It sounds like you've been struggling for a while and that you really need help. I'm sorry your parents did not help you and did not recognize that you very much need help for what you're going through. I suggest continuing to try and reach out. I know how much it hurts when you don't get the help you need after reaching out, but please don't give up. I think it's best to be clear and blunt. Tell a trusted adult that you are experiencing suicidal thoughts and that you feel you aren't going to make it to adulthood. Tell them that you have tried reaching out to your parents, but it has not gone well. Tell them explicitly that you need help. Try contacting youth centers, mental health initiatives in your city, or other mental health resources in your area.

You are absolutely not lazy. You are not a faker. Sometimes people do not want to acknowledge a problem because then they don't have to do anything about it. That doesn't mean you don't deserve help.

I know it feels like you can't do it, like you truly won't make it to adulthood. Please know that things will not always be this way. Remember how strong you are, how worthy you are, and how you deserve a happy, healthy life. I know you will get there one day.

Here is a link to a chat-based suicide hotline. If you ever feel that you want to commit suicide again, please reach out.

Followers' input is welcome, as this has been in our inbox a while.

- Mod Misa

[euphoriyoongi]

Clouds of the Night (I want you) j.h.s

❊ Summary:

You've been in a long term relationship with Namjoon, who you met back in your last year of high school. With him as a Surgical intern and you as a ballet dancer/florist, your life seems pretty established. Except the fact that you're in love with someone else.

❊ Warnings: language

❊ Word count: 1.4k

m.list

prev. // next.

*****************************************

The day you met Namjoon was the day you believed in love.

He was a new student that was assigned to be your lab partner in chemistry class, during your second year of High School. It was fitting of course, since you both had lots of chemistry.

Now looking back at it, it seemed pretty cheesy with how your relationship progressed but at that time, he was the definition of perfect.

He would always sit next to you quietly, not speaking a word. You were decently outgoing then, and you would try your best to get him to open up. But when you accidentally spilled some solution you were making all over your hand, he rushed to the rescue and helped you feel better. He ran you over to the sink and ran your hands under water and took you to the nurses office, where they didn't do anything for you anyway.

That was the moment you realized you liked him. His eyes were frantic with worry, and his cheeks were flush with a blush. You didn't know it yet, but you could've sworn he looked like he liked you too.

Flash forward a few weeks both of you grew closer, now doing almost everything together. He'd walk you home to make sure you got there alright, and when he noticed that you lived alone he didn't question it. He sat next to you in class and on busses, and took care of you when you were sick.

You had no idea of your feelings at this time. Namjoon was so ready to ask you out as soon as he met you, but his shy demeanor seemed to be put a hold on that.

The next year was your last year as a high school student. The first day Namjoon wasn't there.

You looked all around for him and he didn't text you to tell you he wasn't going to be in today. You were worried.

He came in the next day looking perfectly fine and you didn't think much into it.

You then got your first boyfriend. You had no idea how this was going to end and it definitely didn't last long, but Joon was very against him. You fought with him and it ended with you storming off back to your empty house without him walking you home for the first time.

The next morning at school he sat down a strawberry milk onto your seat with a slight smile. You couldn't be mad at him no matter what. He apologized for yelling at you and told you it was just his way of looking out for you.

You stayed with that awful boyfriend for about six months until you found out he was cheating on you. You ran outside at midnight and rushed to namjoon's mansion of a house where you couldn't get in because of the gate.

Until Namjoon came rushing out to hold you while you cried.

That night is what changed it all. He looked so beautiful in the moonlight. With his worried eyes and his solemn expression, you reached up to kiss him.

It could've been because of the break up. Or, it could've easily been that you were in love with him this whole time. When you kissed him he kissed back just as softly, his hands holding onto your cheeks as your lips studied each other.

After that night you two started to date. Namjoon thought it was just a rebound for you, but couldn't help  wanting the idea of dating you. So since that cold spring might, you've been dating.

Now it's the autumn of twenty-twenty-one, you both have established jobs now after college. Namjoon is now a surgical intern at a prestigious hospital, and you fulfilled your childhood dreams to become a professional ballerina dancer. Your life seems perfect, well set up, and it almost seemed like he was going to pop the question.

But something was wrong.

You weren't in love anymore. And you had a hard time believing that he was still in love, too.

What was the reason? Well, it could possibly be someone you met in your advanced ballet class back in college.

His name was Jung Hoseok.

The first day you ever laid eyes on him was the day you knew you were in deep. He walked into the dance studio and sat down near the front to stretch. You were stretching out like your usual ballerina stuff in the corner of the room on the bars when you watched him.

He had silky brown hair and wore very bright vibrant clothing as if he wanted to stand out. You knew he couldn't of been a ballet dancer with the way he dressed to come to class, but you minded your business and continued to stare at him.

There was plenty of guys in here. Each of them looking at you. But you couldn't help but ignore all of them and just pay attention to the goof who wore street clothes to a ballet class.

When he took of his sweatshirt nothing was under it, leaving his toned abs out in the open for you to look at. In your head you'd tell yourself that you had a boyfriend and you should be attracted to anyone else but...

But when a man looks like this, how were you supposed to ignore it?

Turns out he was dressed for it underneath, he must've just came from another class.

You watched him dance and sway and jump. He was amazingly talented. You wondered how in the world was someone so good? You were always the best dancer, but now you have competition.

When he finished his piece, the instructor introduced him as Jung Hoseok. He was a dance major who was already a professional dancer.

The instructor told the class that he was going to be taking this class, and you didn't listen to a word.

His eyes met yours as you should've been for using on the teacher, and he looked you up and down, staring heavily at your body. He winked at you seductively and you had the sudden urge to jump his bones. Right then and there.

The moment passed like a fleeting shadow and it began again when the instructor asked for you and Hoseok to be partners for the next assignment.

It was a couples dance, and you had to show the power of love and loss through dance. You both would have to come up with something so amazing to get a good grade.

You were to preform this at a recital then with all the other dancers. You were afraid to tell Namjoon about this one, but he's been so worried about Med School he hasn't payed you a single drop of attention in months. It didn't justify your pull to Hoseok, though. But Namjoon hasn't even said I love you in ages.

Hoseok glanced at you and then tried to hide his smile. His gorgeous brown hair was pushed back with some sort of headband and his face was covered in sweat. He walked up to you and said something you weren't expecting at all.

He smirked, standing close to you. "Want to go out with me or?" He laughed, but he was completely serious. "Or do you wanna fuck?"

You were caught off-guard. You so desperately just wanted to say yes and have him choose which one to do, but you had a boyfriend. You shook your head after looking like you were going to say yes. "I have a boyfriend."

He nodded. "Ah. I respect that." Contradictory to his words he stepped even closer, looking down to you as his breaths hit your face. "If that's the case, then we'll just research emotion for our assignment?" He said, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You gave in to that. Nodding, you shrugged. "I don't see why we couldn't do that? It's for our grade..."

On that day, you were done for. You wanted him so bad you had to take a step back for yourself and think about what's going on.

And to figure out why it was so hard to be in love with Namjoon.

Was it because you were afraid of leaving a multiple year-long relationship? Was it because you knew him for so long?

Did you really love each other or are you in love with your pasts?

You were about to figure it all out.

[littlemsstark3000]

Whatever It Takes

Avengers: Endgame - IronWidow fix

Something happened.

Tony knew it. He figured it out through the empty space beside him, the discarded pillows, his bare body under the sheets, and her scent mixed with the vodka which they shared.

Natasha was there. And she was gone before he woke up.

He shut his eyes again. Scenes from the previous night started replaying in his mind. They had more than enough liquor but they were not drunk, he was sure of that. He was aware of what was happening from the time he leaned dangerously closer towards her and planted a chaste kiss on the corner of her lips. If she tried to stop him, he would have backed off. She did not.

He groaned, mind blurred of what to do next.

Was he supposed to call or message her? Check where she was? Ask why she just left? Say he was sorry?

But he wasn't a bit sorry for what happened. He wanted it... since when, only heaven knew. The question was if she wanted it the same way, or she has regretted it the moment she woke up and realized what they have done.

Eight months ago, they lost to Thanos. He snapped and gone was 50% of the living, including the closest people to him and to her. Peter was dusted in his arms in Titan. Clint lost his whole family, which eventually led to Natasha losing her bestfriend in him also.

When Tony was rescued in space by Nebula and Captain Marvel, he returned to a very quiet compound. Natasha, Steve, Bruce and Thor were the only ones left there. Rhodey and Pepper came the soonest they got the word about his return. They arrived as he lay in the med bay with the only female Avenger left watching over him.

The reunion was a lull before the storm that was his confrontation with Steve. The pain, the betrayal, the anger he harbored in his chest for their Cap since Siberia made him snap, too. What remained of his belief that they could avenge for the earth when they could not protect it - dusted. That night, Natasha went to his room and apologized for the hurt that she also caused him. He has long forgiven and understood her, and he let her stay until he slept.

The next day, he learned that the team has traced Thanos and attacked him to retrieve the infinity stones, in high hopes that they could still revert what happened. They did not get them... not even one.

Days later, Tony got well and chose to move on, opting to live alone this time in a lakehouse far from the city. He worked for Stark Industries, his own company still managed by Pepper, remotely. He enjoyed a more private life.

Among the then-Avengers, it was only with Natasha that he communicated. Bruce and Thor disappeared to somewhere he did not mind knowing about. They needed to rest, too. Steve stayed behind but opted to lie-low from being a supersoldier. While she, keeping herself together, continued to do work and organized a new team which could look after what was left of the world. With much respect for her choice, he made it clear that even if they were already far from being teammates, he was just a stone throw away especially for her, always.

And it was because of that mutual understanding that Natasha knocked on his door last night and broke down after a few glasses. Both of them were still grieving for their losses, no matter how hard they hid it. Both of them were still looking for answers even if it looked like they have moved on. Both of them, at the back of their minds, were still hoping that they could bring everyone else back.

Vulnerable, they succumbed to the temporary aid which they could get from each other on his bed. It wasn't hurried, but every touch, every move, every moan was desperate to satisfy their need for comfort. Once was not enough. They gave in again. And again...

Tony cleared his head with a cold shower then decided to go to her at the compound. He did not know what to say; he just had to see her first.

Natasha sat on her work desk, going through whatever she was doing on her laptop, when he entered her office.

"Tash," he stood before her table.

"What's up, Stark?" She did not even look up to him.

It felt like a kick on his gut. "So we're back to surnames only. That's cool," he replied with pure sarcasm.

"If you're here to talk about what happened, you shouldn't have bothered."

"Why not?"

She chuckled. "We're two consenting adults. It's done and over."

He followed her with confused stare and rising irritation as she walked to the side table and made a sandwich.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Natasha raised her eyebrows to him. "Why? Oh don't act too modest on me. That's the least I will expect, especially from you."

His fists balled inside his pockets, he filled his lungs with much-needed air. "I'm not here to say I am sorry for what happened because really, I am not."

"Then? Don't tell me you worry about me getting..." She paused but he got it. "You know that's impossible."

"Natasha -"

"I'm not gonna run after you because of what happened, Stark. It was just good sex."

His face heated up and his teeth clenched so tight that it already hurt - whichever hurt more, his jaw or his heart, he didn't care. Before he could do something he would regret more, he turned to leave immediately, shutting the door loudly behind him... missing to catch Natasha's rattled expression, trembling lips and teary eyes.

That was the last time they saw each other.

*****

Four years later, Natasha appeared at his doorstep again - this time, with Steve and Scott Lang, presenting a possible way to get back what they lost to Thanos.

Quantum realm. Time heist.

"The stones are in the past. We can go back. We can get them," Steve said.

"We can snap our own fingers. We can bring everybody back," she added.

"Or screw it up worse than he already has, right?" he quickly countered, eyes bore into green ones.

His two other guests tried to justify some more, but each argument, he had an answer to.

Finally, Natasha spoke again. "Tony, we have to take a stand."

Great, she just called him by his first name again, reminding him of the good relationship they shattered with one steamy night followed by a more heated encounter.

"We did stand. And yet, here we are," he couldn't help being straightforward.

She turned her head, looking away.

He sighed. "I wish you'd come here to ask me something else. Anything else."

Natasha never looked at him again until the three of them left. His chest tightened even if it was him who declined their proposal. He knew he hurt her by crushing her hope. But he was actually scared to try again and fail. There was a bit of probability that they might do it right but he could not risk, could he? It would be too painful, if they would be lucky to even live after, that is.

When he lied down that night, in the same room where they spent that one night together, Tony still could not rest his case. He remembered Peter. He remembered Clint's lovely family. He thought about Natasha... and how she would have looked happier if he said yes to their idea that afternoon.

Those thoughts and the tiny bit of probability pulled him up from his bed to his little workshop.

*****

He made it work and they did it. They, the Avengers, won this time around.

After they collected the infinity stones from the past, with Clint's inevitable sacrifice in Vormir, and despite the accident that brought Thanos and his troop to the present, they managed to pull through in the battle. Bruce as the Hulk snapped with the gauntlet that Tony made and the bad guys turned to dust.

They lost two heroes in one day... but the ones who have returned, together with the four Avengers left, swore to their gravestone that the earth, with their loved ones in it, would be protected again at all cost.

Steve went back to the past to return the stones in their respective places. But he did not come back. They should have figured it out when he said goodbye to Bucky and left his shield to Sam before he stepped into the time heist.

Thor, sober and with renewed determination after he has spoken with Almother, led the New Asgard with Valkyrie.

Tony and Natasha promised to keep the rest of their team together whatever it takes. But it had to start by fixing what was between the two of them...

Like the night of Tony's return from space five years ago, she went up to him. He was awakened by movement on the bed in his room in the compound. The next thing he realized, the redhead was snuggled up on him, her arms around his neck, hands clasped on his nape.

"Tash..." He called her name softly and kissed her hair.

"Thank you, Tony."

Natasha looked up to him, and as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he caught her eyes shiny with tears.

"I don't and won't ever take full credit of our win, if that's what you are thankful for," he smiled as he wiped her eyes with his thumb.

She shook her head. "I thank you for trying one more time. It wasn't a simple decision, I know. You've left this life behind for a more peaceful one and moved on," she caressed his cheek. "Now you're back here with us."

Tony shifted their positions so he was half hovering comfortably over her.

"When I was trying to figure out how we could pull off that quote-unquote time heist, you know what was on my mind?"

"What?"

"Oh, it wasn't a what but a who," he tapped his point finger on the tip of her nose. "You."

"Tony..."

"I haven't said it yet but I really like it better when you call me by my first name."

She sighed. "I'm serious."

"Same here. So serious about you that I risked screwing up reality."

She fell silent as she just stared into his eyes.

"Guess that's another way of saying I love you, Natasha. I've always cared so much about you... Damn it, I can't even stay mad at you for 24 hours straight."

"I'm not good with words, Tony."

"Not a problem."

His hand trailed from her side to her hips to the small of her back and pulled her closer to him, the same time that Natasha lifted her face to meet his lips that instantly opened up to hers.

That one night long time ago was never enough. They gave in again. And again. And again.

[jay-and-dean]

Je ne te mérite pas (I don’t deserve you) Chapter 1.

DeanxReader

Future warnings : Smut, Fluff, Angst, Violence.

Words : 2348

Summary : Dean and her can’t be together.If you ask Dean, he would list so many reasons : Her age, first. Not like she was a kid anymore, but he remerbers picking her from highschool not so long ago. Then Jody, damn, the girl is like a daughter to her, what kind of friend would he be ? He’d talk about her boyfriend and how he’s the opposite of himself. Of course he would expose how poisonous he is, how dangerous it is to be around him. He’d say he want to keep her away from nightmares… And he would conclude with certainly that she just won’t ever love him, why would she ?If you ask her, she just might whisper with a heartbreack in her voice : “I don’t deserve Dean Winchester”.What if they where wrong ?

Note : I’m french, and it is my first time writting in english, so, forgive the mistakes.

YourPov

 Oh shit. He’s here. You take a step back from the window, and your hand comes to your heart, like you still could protect it. Fuck fuckfuck… shit. You weren’t ready to see him, Jody didn’t tell you Sam and him were stopping by. You take a deep breath as you hear the doorbell ring. Nobody’s home but you, come on, you have to go open that damn door.

Even if you know his face by heart, it always strikes you how impressive he is, beautiful, sure, but it’s that charisma that always makes you shake, this depth in his eyes. 

“Hi Dean”

He smile and say something about “grown up” and “sweetheart”. And of course he is taking you in his arms, he always does. You try to hide your insane heartbeats by putting a hand between his chest and yours, and you take a deep inhale of his sent.

 Dean ‘sPov

 What happened?  She was a kid, I’m sure she was. Now look at her… It’s not like I hadn’t seen her in a long time, we had dinner with Jody, Alex and her two months ago.

She makes that face again, like she’s trying to hide something from us. Every time that look pass on her face, I have a flash of her eyes, the first time I saw them.

I can remember that cold look on her face when we found her, covered in scars, chained in the basement like a dog. She was 14 but it was impossible to guess her age, she could have been 10, she could have been 30. She’d been here for a while, all dirty and scrawny, almost wild… almost dead. That son of a bitch kept her for years, and, not like the others, she survived. Father Joey was his name; I can still see the face he made when I cut is throat.

This fanatic’s plan was too kidnap kids with abilities around the world, according to him : demonic, and to “rehabilitate” them, as he said he “raised them like is own children”… fucking psycho : each kid were tortured and psychologically abused, all of them died of starvation, infection, suicide or blood loss. Except her, tough girl.

My little friend only survived by suffocating her psychic powers(seemingly for good) to make him think there was hope in her salvation. He had taken her from France, when she was 9, killed her mother, treat her like a freak and carved religious symbols on her body for 5 years.

No wonder why she was so harsh and stern when she was a teen. When Jody took her, she had a really hard time with Y/n, not that she was insolent or ungrateful, she was just a loner, extremely independent, silent and she took no orders.I remember how uselessJody was feeling. She was always handling herself, coping, helping… but she was out when she wanted, back when she had decided. When she was 16 she started paying some of Jody’s bills, buying food and clothes, replacing broken things on the house, that’s when Jody found out she had taken a job in a coffee shop. When she was 18 she graduated with good grades and went to medical school. And there she is, my shy, strong and admirable little Y/n…

Well, not so little, she wears her 20 years like a crown. There is something in her eyes, like she has the ability to heal you, like she’s going to save your soul. I’m fond of this kid, and Jody is so proud of her.

 YourPov

 You’re making coffee and listening to the news Sam gives you, he standing beside you, tall and handsome as always. When did he get that presence ? It is like is he blossoming, he makes you think of a king. Maturity suits him.

“Are you not in school ?” Dean asks, making you slightly jump.

“It’s Sunday, I was studying… Traumatology.” You answer with a light smile you can’t hide. Damn, Dean must think I smile a lot… But it’s just the effect he has on you.

“Wow, sorry for you” he says taking a sip of coffee.

“Don’t be, that’s why I choose medical school…”

Sam sits and raise his eyebrows, “ you want to work in the E.R. ?” he asks.

You laugh faintly and sit in front of Sam, avoiding Dean’s eyes.

“No, Sam, that’s not why I went to med school you know… I just, I want to save as many people as I can… on hunts.”

Dean choke on his coffee and you stand up immediately.

“You okay Dean ?” you ask with concern.

He raises a hand and clear his throat, so you sit and smile at him, again…

“What do you mean, on hunt ?” he asks, his voice still hoarse.

You play with you mug, you knew Sam and Dean wouldn’t be thrilled about you hunting, Jody neither, that’s why you never told anyone you were already, for a long time. Sam looks at you, he knows, Sam always knows. Since you had that talk one night long ago, when he told you his story, the fear he always had to be a monster, and when you talked to him, for the first time of your life, about what Father Joey did to you and why.

“You thought I was going to be a doctor? Guys…” you says in a whisper.

“Yeah well, you have to !” Dean says with a disappointed tone that breaks your heart a bit more.

“No, I don’t have to do anything.”

 Dean’s Pov

 Here it comes, that coldness in her voice : “I don’t have to do anything”, she takes no orders, I know, she made that clear long ago, but… Come on, not her. She withdrew into herself again. Sam is the first to speak:

“Kid, what Dean means is you get to have a normal life.”

She closes her eyes like she was exasperated for a second and takes a deep breath. It hurts when she does that, because it reminds me how inaccessible she is, how secret and distant, how strong and determined, and how neither of us can truly reach her.

“Because you want a normal life doesn’t mean everybody wants it.” She explains calmly. “Ordinary is boring, I don’t fit in normal. Since I was born, I knew something was “not normal” with me. I was passionate with ghost, vampire and witch stories long before Father Joey found me. I was the strange kid, and I could walk through people’s dreams, I understood symbols and had dreams that sounded like prophesies…”

Wow, I was so wrong, that forced breath, it was her trying to open up to us, and she is. She never relate all of this to us, and I’m pretty sure she never told Jody either. I’m excited to know more of her, even if what she says is painful to hear. She continues :

“When he found me…” She inhales like her lungs were sore and it breaks my heart. “He showed me how dark the world could be, made me understand how it works and that I was supposed to be a part of it. My powers died…” Her voice shakes a little so she takes a sip of her coffee; neither Sam nor I dare to interrupt her. “But that doesn’t mean I’m useless. You know guys… I love tarot, and I’m pretty good at it, I know how to use arcana, runes… I’ve read every witchcraft books I found, theology, history of magic, of pagan myths and rituals… I even stole John’s journal for a week when I was a teen without you noticing it, and I memorized it entirely… I mean, I hunt, I have for a long time.” My mouth open but nothing comes out. “I love it. Everything that is not related with supernatural activities bore me to death...”

“Even Sasha?” Fuck! I said it out loud and she looks hurt.

Sasha is Y/n’s boyfriend. She never talk about him, Jody discovered herself, not like Y/n hid it, otherwise nobody would have found out, she just never mentioned him, like it was really no big deal. Jody thinks she loves Sasha a lot, because she heard her say in her dream once, that she was in love. He seems to be a good guy, I don’t know why I said it so aggressively…

Great Dean, you made her silent again. She smiles at me with that kind yet hurt smile of hers and get up to wash her hands, for no reasons.

 YourPov

 You have to turn your back on him to hide the brightness in your eyes. Dean can make you smile every two second, he can also make you break into tears with a word. And you sometimes hate him for that.

Sasha… What do they know about him ? Everybody thinks it’s a big deal to have him in your life. It’s really not, it’s an arrangement, nothing more. Sasha is in love with you since high school, who knows why… But you don’t love him, you never will, he knows that. You two are not a couple, you even have sex with other dudes, and that he knows also. He was your friend and when he declared his love, you told him that it was impossible. Then things got complicated… He was your only friend, you knew you should stay away from him, but then he told you he’d take what you'll let him. So you gave him what doesn’t really matters to you : your body, some of your diners, your movie nights… And made it really clear that he can’t have your heart and that your future is far away.

He’s the only one to know, the only one you’ve told about your love for Dean. He doesn’t know him, never will, but he knows.

_______

 You look at Sasha and put your hand on his sweaty torso, making him smile. Your heart beats so fast, but not because of him, as usual. You've never hid the truth to him, not even about the supernatural. And yet, here you are, lying to him ostensibly. "This guys you're gonna live with... the... the guy you love so much, he's not one of them, right ?". And you said no.

Maybe it was the negative form of his sentence, maybe it was the sadness and fear in his eyes, you were a coward and said no.

Then you took your clothes of. Like you do when you don't want to talk to him too much, like when he wants to know more about your childhood, more about the supernatural, when he tells you sweet love words, or when he asks about Dean. You take your clothes of and take his hands, you make him forget his questions to keep the answer for you. It isn't always enough, especially when it comes to Dean... But you have not much to say about him paradoxally, and you already used every words you could. You just love him so much it hurts, so much you know it will be forever.

That fucking lie is a bad one. Because it is the kind of lie you have to repeat all the time, the kind that multiply exponentially. You are going to live in the Winchesters bunker with them for weeks, see Dean on his territory, smell him everywhere, immerse yourself in his universe ; and it terrifies you. You can't even talk to your only friend.

You got up and put some music : Chopin's Spring Waltz.

"What is it Baby ?" Sasha asks.

"Don't call me that."

"You only listen this kind of music when you're sad." He says getting up, his perfect darkly tanned body on full display, his curly black hair falling on his model face.

"I'm just..."

You stop so he comes behind you and take you by the waist, kissing your shoulder.

"Are you thinking of him ?" He asks naturally, like he does sometimes during sex, making you think of Dean automatically. You've told him many times though : you never think about him during sex, or if you do, it means you're far away in your head. You just don't think of his hands being Sasha's, because it's not the right smell, the right eyes, the right voice... because nothing compares to Dean, you guess.

"Yes, I'm sorry." One lie is enough.

"Don't be..." he whispers dolefully, and he kisses you neck. "I'm gonna miss you so much. I can't wait for you to visit between hunts. Just be safe okay ?"

"I'm going to miss you to" This is the truth. "Being safe is why I'm going there. They are the two best hunters of the world, if I'm going to be one, Jody wants me to learn from the bests."

"I love you" he says.

"I know, stop saying it, it's awkward..." you break from his embrace, get dressed, and take your motorcycle helmet and gloves. He's still naked and watches you in awe.

"Text me Sash' !" You say closing the door.

 Dean's Pov

 She take her helmet of and her hair falls on her back like in the movies. She smiles at me like she always does and Sam takes her in his arms, but she looks at me with what seems to be apprehension.

Last night I dreamt of her, she was telling me how happy she was to live in the bunker for a while, she was all approachable and cheerful, her face readable, her arms open, a wide smile on her face, and it was so comforting...

She crosses her arms and make that shy, held in, smile disappear.

"Hi Dean, thank you for receiving me." She says without enthusiasm and my heart sinks a bit.

Why ? Why is her attitude toward me so important ? Why is it so essential that she smiles ? Her time here is going to be perturbing, I can guess that...  

[910roses]

Reunion (13xOC)

**Please let me know what you think**

Note: I've only ever written stuff for Doctor Who on fanfiction net but it's never been one-shots and I've only done like a tiny chapter for 13. So, hopefully this comes out okay and whoever reads this likes it. I completely adore 13 and would follow her in a heartbeat.

Summary: Set after right "Ghost Monument", having already mourned the possibility of losing her wife (y/n), 13 is immensely relieved to find y/n safe in the Tardis.

Includes fluff because I love me some fluffy stories. Also, Y/S means "your sexuality". The reader for me is written as pan, but you don't have to read it that way.

Everything was extremely cold. Your face, your limbs, your clothes, absolutely everything was beyond freezing. That's why the feeling of two warm hands on both sides of your face had you jolting awake.

Your mind woke up faster than your eyes. Sluggish thoughts plagued you as you couldn't even remember falling asleep, where you were, or why you were so damn cold. Sluggish actions followed suit with you cracking your eyes open to be face to face with one of the loveliest ladies you'd ever seen.

Concern and relief was apparent in her expression and you wondered what happened to you that warranted that look, but then you looked into her eyes. Her eyes were a gorgeous hazel that you liked instantly, but oh her eyes! So old and endless- timeless, and then you knew.

"Doctor?" You managed to cough out. Your throat felt completely dry and scratchy after a possible long time of no use. She gave small smile and nodded and in an instant you felt overwhelmed by the Doctor in a way you hadn't felt since your wedding. You managed to give her a small smile back after coughing once more. "What the heck happened love?"

A tenseness that was in the Doctor's shoulds left and she grinned. "Well, it appear the Tardis had in a sort of frozen stasis. Y/N, you must be absolutely freezing!" She said, rubbing her thumbs against your cheeks before standing up to go grab you some water. She knelt back in front of you as sat up a bit to drink the water. You smiled at her after finishing the water, taking in her enthusiastic energy and a newfound affection that differed slightly from her previous regeneration with ease.

A teasing frown graced your face as you took in her words. "The Tardis froze me basically, without asking me?"

"She wanted to keep you safe as I, er, regenerated," her smile turned sheepish and she glanced down at herself.

You grabbed one of her hands and held it, a warmth flooding your stomach and veins- only a reaction the Doctor was able to give you. "I'm only teasing. I don't mind it. Well, I'd like a bit of warning next time," you said, looking pointedly at the ceiling knowing the Tardis could hear you. The Doctor squeezed your hand and you looked back to her and smiled. "Are you okay though? I was there the last few regenerations and I know it's not an easy process."

She started nodding enthusiastically. "Oh yeah I'm great! My friends helped take care of me- there here by the way! On board," she paused and gestured toward the door of the room you were in and that's when it hit you.

"You knew you were going to regenerate right then! I mean we both knew it was coming, but I was going to make you tea! I can't believe the Tarid froze me in the kitchen!" You ranted a little, finally sitting up all the way on the tile floor, groaning as your body complained at the movement.

The Doctor gently helped you sit up, wearing a worried expression. "Are you okay? You're not in pain are you? Maybe we should take a trip to the med bay. I don't even know how long you've been frozen-"

"-Doc-"

"And then I completely missed the location of where the Tardis was. Okay, so I didn't really miss it. You were both just misplaced and I had to go find you. And then I didn't know if you even survived th crash!-"

"Doctor!" You exclaimed, grabbing her face and planting a soft kiss to her forehead. She stopped her worried rambling and relaxed even further as she sat next to you. "I'm okay, just sore and all my joints are stiff."

"So, you're okay?" She asked and before you could say yes, she added "with me?"

Your brow furrowed in confusion before you understood. "Doctor, of course I am."

She bumped shoulders with you and you knew she was happy, but still concerned. "So, you're a," you glanced at her, hesitating, and she stared right back, slight worry in her beautiful eyes and you smirked. "Blonde, again. I saw a picture of when you were blonde before and I must say, it's quite nice. Oh, and you're completely gorgeous again, if you were wondering."

She gave you a look. "Y/N, I'm serious."

"So am I. If you're really concerned, don't be. I've told you before that I'm (y/s). You should remember my first girlfriend, the one I had before we started dating. Unless, ya know, you're just that old," you teased and she scrunched up her nose while rolling her eyes.

"Of course I remember!" She said, but paused as a crease appeared between her brows. "What was her name again?"

"Beats me, that was a long time ago and I've ever really only been in love with one person. This is just another chapter in our lives. I absolutely adore you and you being a woman now isn't going to change that." You told her, meaning every word. You knew you loved her before, when she was a man, and you know with one hundred percent certainty that you love her now.

Her grin slowly came back and she clapped her hands before springing up. She helped you stand and you laughed at her energetic movements. While standing you got to take a better look at your wife. She was shorter, closer to your height now and her blonde hair framed her face. She was beautiful and cute and you knew in your core you were going to adore every piece of her, every single part of her and you looked forward to it.

The Doctor looped her arm through yours and was about to lead you out of the kitchen when three people walked hesitantly inside. You figured these were the friends who helped your wife and you smiled in greeting.

"Ryan! Yaz! Graham! I found my wife!" The doctor explained while gesturing to you excitedly in an almost boisterous manner. The young man, Ryan, looked between the two of us nodding. "We're not interrupting, are we? Yaz mentioned that you'd been gone awhile and we just thought it'd be cool to explore a bit to find you."

"Actually," the Doctor started and you interrupted, giving her a look.

"She had been telling me that she had some friends that were on board! It's so nice to meet you! I'm Y/N," you started and released the Doctor's arm to go hug them individually. The Doctor took your hand when you were done and grinned at them. "Thank you for taking care of my wife. It's always a relief when she has friends as she can tend to be quite reckless."

Yaz laughed and Graham agreed. You looked closer at them and noticed how worn out they looked and thought of how they must be hungry crossed your mind, making you realize you were hungry as well.

"Well! You three must be famished. Or tired! Or both!"

Yaz nodded, Ryan said he was "proper hungry," and Graham agreed. "Okay, well since I am hungry as well, how about I make something? I'm thinking muffins and tea. How's that sound?"

"You don't have to," Yaz started and you smiled.

"Nonsense! I love baking and well, sometimes we forget to properly feed our friends on adventures," you looked at the Doctor who gave her friends a sheepish grin. They all smiled at settled at the table, Yaz offering to help you bake while Ryan and Graham offered to start the tea and set the table.

The Doctor followed you while you went to get ingredients. "Could we make blueberry? With chocolate chips? And possibly bananas?" She whisper asked by your shoulder and you hummed in response.

"Do you want all those inside the muffins? Do you want some as toppings? Do you want the bananas in the batter, like mashed in? Will your friends like the combo?"

She pursed her lips while grabbing the blueberries out of the fridge. "Maybe just blueberries and chocolate chips inside." She said and you nodded, asking Yaz to grab the dry ingredients along with the chocolate chips while you grabbed the mixing bowl and muffin tins. You glanced at the Doctor who had grabbed the blueberries, the milk, eggs, and she also took out strawberries and whipped cream and you smirked at her. "Feeling peckish?"

She grinned right back with her arms full before setting all of it on the counter. "Strawberries sounded good and I know you like them with whipped cream. She took out, dabbed it in the whipped cream and fed it to you while you started measuring and stirring the muffin mix. You grinned in thanks and kissed her on the cheek. She settled next you, eating strawberries and watching you.

"It's been a while since we've had an almost family-like atmosphere," you started, sending at glance at the trio of friends who now sat at the table talking and laughing over tea, Yaz having joined them after telling her you could handle the rest. The Doctor hummed and popped another strawberry in her mouth. "You should invite them to stay, if you haven't already."

She swallowed and looked down. "I don't know. It's dangerous and they're good people. Graham already lost his wife, who was Ryan's Nan."

A sadness gripped your heart as you felt for Ryan and Graham. You paused, thinking of how to phrase your next words right. "Even more reason I suppose, to ask them I mean. It could give them more space and time to heal. Just explain what comes with traveling with us- give them option."

The Doctor nodded, popping in another strawberry and hugging you from behind. "I will, just not right now. We all need time."

You grinned, loving the embrace as you finished up mixing the muffin batter which was now filled with blueberries and chocolate chips. "Speaking of needing time, we're going to have to get used to this."

You felt the Doctor stiffen a little while she hugged you. "What do you mean?"

Turning to face her a little more, both of your noses almost touched. "Well, you're so much closer to my height now, I won't have to pull you down to my level anymore," you whispered. You could feel her grip tighten around you and you turned to face her even more, loving the reaction you were getting.

Looking at her outfit, you tugged a bit at one of her suspenders. "Hmm, suspenders again?" You asked before looking into her eyes. Her cheeks was slightly red, but she was smiling with her mouth and eyes.

"Yeah, what do you think?" She asked and you grinned even wider, tugging a bit again at the one strap you were holding.

"I like it," you said and before either of you got any ideas in the presence of the Doctor's friends, you kissed her softly and turned back toward the muffins.

You pulled out of her embrace to put the muffins in the oven. Once they were in and a timer was set, you turned back to a very red Doctor and grabbed her hand. "Come on, I'm sure your friends made a lovely pot of tea and I want to get to know them more."

So, the both of you joined Ryan, Yaz, and Graham at the table and started sharing stories and drinking tea while you waited for the muffins. The atmosphere was light and happy and you knew that you and the Doctor were going to enjoy every second with your wife and her friends.

[princessnijireiki]

here's how chronic pain is a motherfucker:

every day last week I been waking up with my back muscles pulled, and they stayed like that all day. been cussing at the dogs & snapping at everybody, because hunger and fatigue don't usually mess up my mood, but pain makes me angry & makes me mean for no reason.

day before yesterday my leg muscles seized up like they haven't since I was a little girl with growing pains— and I remember crying back then bc I felt like I couldn't move my legs at all, like there were bubbles behind my joints locking them so I couldn't bend or unbend them, the ligaments felt so tight. I couldn't get to sleep for hours a few nights ago because the muscles behind my ears that go into my neck were spasming.

my biceps & shoulders & forearms & wrists & hands & toes have all been burning.

this morning I slept in until 7am, walked the dog, ate breakfast, took my meds, and got half-dressed— but even though my stimulant kicked in at the same time as my fibro pill (which is the specific reason why I take them together in the morning, that I "wake up" instead of getting drowsy!), I still could feel myself falling asleep as the edge came off my pain. because you're never actually fully resting when you're in pain.

when pain's not that bad— and my threshold is pretty high, so, say, a migraine 7-8x out of 10— painkiller lets you go, "excellent, we are back to full functionality, boss," and you keep it moving. unless I've just had surgery or I'm fighting an acute viral fever, narcotics get me hyper, because the painlessness gives me more energy than I know what to do with.

but that daily hurt, the day-in day-out grind hurt— those other 2-3/10 migraines, and acute injuries that narcotics actually get prescribed for— sometimes you take it away & all you can do is sleep, whether or not you've taken your daily amphetamines (!), because your body is just so tired from fighting all the time.

luckily this cold storm front I've been having a flare under broke today, and we aren't supposed to get another cold snap for a week, so I feel like sleeping beauty or the princess & the pea right now, even just rolling with my normal baseline aches & pains & ailments; but it's hard getting knocked on your ass by your own body like that, and even then, since it's a fully invisible disability, it's easy to doubt myself on the good days that the bad days actually happen, or are that bad. especially because I've had worse, and doubted myself then, too.

but they're bad & they're real, and it sucks, but you keep on trucking best as you can anyway, 'cause it's the hand you've been dealt. the pain's a motherfucker but I just gotta be a meaner one.