superbtiti

[superbtiti]

Part 2!!

Word count: 2.3k

Izuku midoriya, Shoto Todoroki, Katsuki Bakugo

A/n: this took longer than expected sorry y'all 😔 I am not really satisfied with the beginning but I hope you'll still enjoy🫶🏾

(Btw I know it says black reader but anyone can read)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as I entered my room, I fell face first onto my bed, the soft cushions bracing my fall.

A worn-out sigh slipped from my lips, the softness and warmth of the bed providing me with a sense of solace. Yet it didn't stop the quiet storm brewing inside of me.

I'm—

Today was just shit. From me not getting enough sleep, to my awful performance in training, the boys not knowing how to work as a damn team, and Endeavor's constant nagging.

But still, that didn’t give me the right to lash out on them like I did. I’ve been so unpleasant, so rude to the others, letting my pent-up frustration out on them...

I buried my face deep into my cushions in an attempt to ease the guilt. Everything is slowly chipping away at me.

For how long do I have to endure this?

I could feel my chest tightening, my eyes stinging.

—Just so tired.

A sigh escaped my lips.

"Are you okay?"

I snapped out of my thoughts, startled by the sudden voice.

Huh?

Oh... I forgot Izuku was still here. I thought he had already left. Tilting my head to the side, our gazes met, his emerald eyes filled with worry. He was standing in front of my desk, a few steps away from me. His eyes bored into mine, leaving me feeling vulnerable, like prey caught in a predator's gaze.

"I'm fine," I mumbled into the cushions. My words couldn’t even convince me.

His position remained steady, his stance firm but gentle. He leaned against my desk, hands behind him to support his balance, his eyebrows knitted together.

The silence dragged on, my gaze fell low, unable to bear the weight of his stare. Yet I could still feel his eyes on me.

"Before... you were about to cry, weren’t you?"

I hate it.

How easy it is for him to see through me no matter how hard I try to hide. How his gaze pierces through every wall I try to put up. I feel so vulnerable with him, it’s unsettling sometimes.

"You were just imagining things."

He didn’t falter; he only showed me more patience, waiting for the truth to reveal.

I tried to dismiss it. "I’m serious, it’s nothing-"

"It’s not nothing."

He interrupted, catching me off guard. As he moved from the desk, each step he took closer sent my heart racing. My eyes followed him, trying to anticipate his next move, until we were at eye level. He knelt in front of me, one knee on the ground, gently placed his hands on mine.

His voice came out in a whisper.

"It’s okay."

And with that, all my efforts went out the window. The lump in my throat became impossible to swallow, and the tears began to fall.

"Why are you like this—" my voice cracked, "no matter how hard I try to hide, you always find me."

I sat up, my hands resting next to my hips, tears running down my cheeks.

His eyes never left mine.

"You don’t have to carry your burdens alone, I’ve told you. I’m always here for you, you know that, right?"

He murmured, the sincerity in his tone squeezing my heart.

That’s right... He’s always been there for me.

But—"you have your own problems and responsibilities to worry about. Why would I want to add extra to that?"

He stood and cupped my cheeks, his gaze steady and unwavering.

"Because your burdens are mine. If you’re not happy, I can’t rest. It’s like a sixth sense—I feel when you’re upset," he added, a small smile tugging at his lips in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"...You are such a dork" I leaned my head against him and let the tears fall freely. Everything I had been holding in, everything that had been bothering me and eating away at me—I let it out.

His arms wrapped around me, pulling me into his warm embrace.

After some minutes I calmed down, keeping my head on his stomach.

"I'm sorry... For today. I've been so capricious."

And again he said—

"It's okay."

__________

A while after Izuku left, a soft knock came at my door. Intrigued by the unexpected interruption, I straightened up from my endless scrolling on the internet, pressing my back against the headboard.

"Yes?"

"May I come in?" Todoroki's muffled voice asked from the other side of the door.

What is he doing here?

"It's unlocked," I approved.

The door opened quietly, and he stepped in, carrying a tray. I raised an eyebrow, curious about what he could possibly be bringing. Without a word, he approached and sat on the edge of my bed, placing the tray on his lap.

"Here," he said, offering me a cup of tea.

I hesitantly took the cup. "What’s this for?" I asked, unable to suppress my curiosity.

He shrugged slightly. "I thought you might need it." His words only deepened my confusion. I stared at him, waiting for more.

"Earlier," he continued, "you looked like you could use a moment to breathe." His tone was soft and sincere.

"Oh... thanks," I murmured, staring down at the cup in my hands. Out of all people, I least expected such a gesture from Todoroki.

"It's chamomile tea," he added after a moment. "My sister says it helps calm the nervous system." My fingers curled around the handle as I took small sips. For a while, we sat in silence, the weight of the day's events hanging in the air until I finally broke it.

"How do you do it?"

I couldn’t stop myself from asking. How does he manage it? Being the son of one of the biggest heroes—how does he deal with all the expectations, the pressure, the constant scrutiny? All the eyes on him? The fear of disappointing everyone?

His gaze met mine—steady yet thoughtful.

"I stopped trying to live up to his expectations a long time ago," him knowing exactly what she was referring to, replied. "I’m not here to please him. I’m here to become the hero I want to be."

His words lingered in the air, circling my mind. What does he mean just stopped, I can't seem to comprehend, just stopped trying? Caring? How do you simply stop striving for the approval that feels so necessary?

"I... I don’t follow," I admitted, my voice faltering. "Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? To prove ourselves? To show them we’re enough?" The tea in my hand was long forgotten as I searched his face for answers. His gaze didn’t waver, as if he saw his younger self in me—fighting the same battle he had long before.

"You don’t need anyone to tell you that you’re enough," he said calmly. "The moment you stop tying your worth to their expectations, you’ll see it for yourself."

His words were a steady foundation I wasn’t ready to stand on. I wanted to believe him, to understand how he could move with such certainty when all I felt was the weight of doubt crashing down on me. I stared down at my tea, watching my reflection ripple with my inner conflict.

"I don’t know how to do that..." I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You’ll know," he said, his tone resolute, "when you’re ready."

A long pause of silence followed after, until I broke into laughter, somewhat not surprised by his far from straightforward answer. "And here I thought you’d give me clear directions—step-by-step instructions on what to do."

Despite my humor, his words lingered, echoing in the quiet like a challenge I wasn’t sure I was ready to take on.

A small smile appeared on his lips. "Don’t worry. You’ll figure it out." He stood, making his way toward the door. "You should come out at some point. You’ve been isolating yourself since we got back."

I sat there, contemplating his words. "Yeah, you might be right. I’ll be down in a minute." And with that, he closed the door behind him.

__________

Once the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars kissed the sky, I found myself on top of the school roof.

The cold evening wind brushed against my skin as I sat on the bench placed in the center of the roof, dressed in my pajamas— Nothing more than a pair of shorts and a white singlet. My hands rested at my sides as I exhaled a heavy sigh.

I raised my gaze to the cityscape below, its streets buzzing with vibrant colors.

Each person walking through them had experienced today in a different, unique way—a testament to the countless of fruits life has to offer.

How beautiful

I thought to myself. Too engulfed in my mind, I didn't take notice of the approaching figure behind me.

"The hell are you doing up here?"

Startled by the sudden interruption, I snapped out of my thoughts.

Why does this always happen to me?

My gaze followed the voice, only to be met with fiery-red ones. Great. Just the one I need.

"Don't sneak up on me like that... creep." The last part came out as a mumble, my eyes narrow into daggers.

"Not my fault you don't pay attention to your surroundings, princess."

He retorted, a slight smirk forming on his lips, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. A paper bag hung from his hand, which I took notice of but chose not to question.

"I've told you repeatedly to stop calling me that. And what are you doing up here?" The words came out more as a hiss than I intended.

"I asked you first."

He scoffed. Huh. I expected him to lash out again. He had been surprisingly calm compared to the Bakugo one sees every day. It was hard to believe he was even capable of attaining this level of composure.

"Are... you feeling well?" The question slipped from my lips as curiosity got the best of me.

"What?"

"It's just... I've never seen you this calm, and honestly, I never thought one could hold a conversation so easily... with you." I admitted honestly, testing the waters, unsure if I might have misjudged this moment as one of vulnerability.

"Huh... what the hell is that supposed to mean?" He questioned, slightly irritated.

Perhaps I did... Might as well keep going now that I've started. Leaning back, I turned my gaze from him, back to the night sky.

"You always portray yourself as this explosive and aggressive person who believes himself to be above everyone else and sees others as obstacles or tools to benefit from."

A small silence lingered in the air. Bakugo scoffed as he shifted his weight onto one foot, turning his body toward the city view. "Is that what you think of me?" There was no anger in his tone, only underlying irritation—and perhaps curiosity?

I turned my gaze to him, curious about his sudden change in behavior. He was facing the night sky, his hands still in his pockets. And here I was, thinking I was starting to understand him…

"Yes, I mean—that’s how you portray yourself."

He just scoffed and leaned against the railing. "You're annoying."

"That's a crazy thing to say for someone who asked for my opinion." I rolled my eyes as we fell back into silence. The wind carried on, a shiver running down my spine—a reminder of my current clothing. Unconsciously, I rubbed my arms in an attempt to warm myself up.

"That’s what people expect from me, so I might as well give it to them instead of wasting time trying to prove them wrong."

That was pretty honest of him to admit. Nevertheless— "—That’s just dumb."

He snapped his gaze to mine, his distaste for my words evident. "Huh?"

"Did you even take the time to try, or was it just easier?"

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" His gaze snapped to mine, the usual fire in his eyes flickering back to life.

"It means exactly what I said. You complain about how people view you, yet you don’t try to prove them wrong. You only make it worse by feeding into the accusations," I stated, unbothered.

He scoffed, turning back toward the city. "Tch—like I give a damn about what those extras think."

I raised an eyebrow. "You obviously do, or else you wouldn’t be getting so defensive."

His jaw tensed. He said nothing. I sighed, my voice softer this time. "And besides… it’s okay. You’re still just a kid."

That did it. He turned sharply, eyes burning with something unreadable. "I don’t give a damn. You don’t know shit."

I rolled my eyes. "Sure, whatever."

Still, I couldn’t ignore the irony of it all. I spent so much of my time caring too much, constantly seeking approval, while he… he was the complete opposite.

"You’re real damn annoying, you know that?"

"So I’ve been told." I replied.

He turned back to me and pulled a paper bag from his pocket, dropping it onto my lap without a word. Confused by his action, I opened the bag, only to see— "Food? What the—?"

"Figured you’d be hungry or something. You’ve been so cranky since morning."

A frown sat on his face, yet there was no fire behind it. His body was relaxed, and his undertone almost sounded… concerned?

"Cranky?" I frowned.

"Short-tempered. My bad," he corrected himself.

I decided to let that one slide, mainly because...well he wasn’t wrong, and I didn’t have the energy to start a quarrel. Letting out a small sigh, a faint smile graced my lips.

"Thanks, Bakugo..."

"Yeah, whatever. Just eat the food before it gets cold." He shrugged as he turned away, seemingly avoiding my gaze. A red hue dusted his face.

"Aww, is the great Bakugo Katsuki showing his soft side?" I teased, leaning a little forward.

"Don't get used to it, princess."

He turned on his heel making his way toward the exit. Before I could say anything else, I felt something heavy and warm drop over my head, the scent of vanilla overwhelming my senses.

I reached up, gently pulling the fabric off my head.

What the—his hoodie?

When I turned around to face him, he was already gone, leaving me with the food he brought… and his hoodie.

I glanced down at the fabric in my hands, running my fingers over the soft material.

A small, knowing smile crept onto my lips.

"Wouldn’t dream of it..."

__________

[superbtiti]

Word count: 1.4k

Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki

A/n: should I write a part 2? (Part 2 out) Anyway enjoy 🫶🏾

________________

"Can you guys just shut up for one second?" my voice snapped through their noise like a whip. I shot each one of them a sharp glare, my gaze like a knife to their throats.

"Fuck..." I kissed my teeth.

"Y'all giving me a headache..." a frustrated sigh left my mouth, my foot continuously tapping the ground.

They all fell silent after the sudden snap, even Bakugo, who rarely listens to people, kept his mouth quiet. The suffocating silence was broken by the soft, tinny elevator music.

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply in an attempt to steady myself. My patience was seemingly thin, exhausted from the intense training session we just completed that had drained every ounce of energy from my body. Being cramped in an elevator with the three boys, whose personalities clash like fire, water, and earth, is definitely not what I am in need of right now.

"Sorry..." Izuku murmured behind me, his voice barely audible.

I opened my eyes and turned my attention to them. Izuku stared at me sympathetically; his hand never stopped fidgeting. Todoroki shifted slightly, keeping his gaze lowered on the ground. "Apologies," his voice monotone, a surprising hint of sincerity.

Bakugo kept his hands in his pockets and avoided my gaze, probably mumbling some dumb shit under his breath.

'Ding.'

We arrive at our destined floor, the elevator doors open. "Whatever," I breathe out, exiting the cramped space.

I slowly walk through the hallway of Endeavor's agency, the echoed footsteps signaling me that the others were following me.

Furthermore, I pushed the door open to the conference room, where we are to meet up to discuss our training progress.

Greeted with a massive screen glowing ominously on the far wall. I took a seat near the center of the table, the others hesitantly sat next to me, Todoroki on my left, his calm presence refreshing after the tension in the elevator, Izuku on my right with his notebook out and ready to scribble, and Bakugo slouched into his seat across from me, the expression on his face saying 'fuck off' loud and clear to anyone who dared to say something.

The heavy tension is visible to other bystanders, like an unwelcome guest.

Endeavor enters the room a moment later. "Alright, children," he began, his tone sharp.

"We're going to go over today's training session. Pay close attention to your performance footage. I want you to identify at least three areas for improvement."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. After hours of laborious training, the last thing I wanted was to sit through footage of every mistake I'd already replayed in my head a hundred times. But Endeavor didn't care about what we wanted—only what we needed to improve.

The screen started displaying our recent exercise. Izuku glided through our training field, dodging attacks, while Bakugo blasted his way through, activating most of the traps and disabling us on his way. Todoroki blocked the explosion thanks to his ice abilities.

Then my own performance came up. I watched myself make mistakes and waste precious time, which only fueled my aggravation and frustration. The unwanted comments of Endeavor not assisting.

"You were too slow there," he let out. "And in lack of critical thinking, we cannot afford such disheveled actions. The time wasted would have been major and could cost a civilian their life in a real situation," he addressed.

The old man does nothing but comment on everything I do, no matter how hard I try, to the point I don't sleep at night to study for the next day. Will he ever be satisfied with what I have to give?

"What an asshat," I muttered, just loud enough for the others to hear. Endeavor's glare cut through me like fire, sharp and burning. I sighed, forcing myself to sit up straighter. "Apologies," I said, though the sarcasm in my voice didn't go unnoticed.

__________

The room dimmed as the screen continued displaying clips of our earlier session. His attention on his performance, Izuku's muttering returned in full force, jotting in his notebook, the sound of his pen scratching the surface of his book aggravatingly. Bakugo, on the other hand, leaned back into his seat, arms crossed while observing his own.

"Izuku," my voice cut sharp, "quit mumbling, it's distracting."

"My bad," he acknowledged, lowering his voice.

"Oi," Bakugo hissed from across the table. "If you’re gonna nag, how about you keep it down as well, huh?"

I shot him a glare. "How about you mind your business and take this seriously."

"Take this seriously?" His voice rose, catching the attention of others. "I don't need your lecture when you’ve been moody and unpredictable since morning, princess. And besides, I already know I’m better than you all."

I huffed. "Coulda fooled me. Your so-called 'superiority' caused you to trigger half of the damn traps in the field." I shot back, leaning forward as if it would get my point across more.

The corner of Todoroki's mouth twitched, and I could've sworn he was suppressing a smirk. "Careful, Bakugo," Todoroki chimed in, his voice calm but cutting. "Your temper's showing again."

"Shut it, Icy Hot!" Bakugo snapped, slamming his hands on the table. "You wanna say that again?!"

"Someone's getting heated," I commented provocatively.

"Can we not do this right now?" Izuku complained

"Enough!" Endeavor commanded, his sharp tone silencing the brewing argument. "If you can't keep quiet, you'll be running the course again—together. Am I clear?"

"Hell nah."

"Over my body."

"I'd rather not."

The three of us grumbled varying acknowledgments, izuku remained silent, sinking back into our seats as the instructor resumed the debriefing.

__________

After what felt like an eternity, the meeting finally ended. I stretched as I stood, the stiffness in my shoulders easing slightly. The boys stalled near the exit, clearly waiting for me.

"I'm heading back to the dorms," I informed them.

"Me too," Izuku added. "Need to review some notes."

"Ima go get some food. Careful not to choke on your nerd shit." Bakugo turned away, stepping toward the exit with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Seriously?" I let out an annoyed groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Can't you just shut the fuck up and not insult people everywhere you go?"

He stopped mid-step, turning to glare at me.

"You’ve got a bad mouth, princess. Do you think you’re better than me? And besides, keeps things interesting." he sneered, stepping closer.

My face scrunched up in distaste. "Not every damn thing is a competition." The words shot out of my mouth laced with venom. "How about you start working as a team? Maybe then you'll notice how much of a liability you are," I snapped back, meeting his gaze head-on.

"Good luck with that," Todoroki muttered.

Bakugo’s eyes widened, his hand sparking faintly with explosions.

"Liability?! Say that again, and I'll blow your shit up!"

"Blow me up. I fucking dare you," I countered, my tone daring and condescending.

"Stop this buffoonery, at once!"

Endeavor yelled, fumes steaming from his head. His aggravation and vexation were clear to every living being near his radius, flames emitting from his body. The room turned dead quiet, all eyes snapped to him.

"I can't believe how childish and insolent you are behaving! All of you are far from representing the heroes of our near future," his voice railed through the hallways, his fiery aura intensifying with each word. "I am far from pleased with your actions today, both individually and as a team on the field."

Bakugo clicked his tongue, shoving his hands back in his pockets. Todoroki quietly glared at his father, while Izuku shifted uncomfortably, his gaze falling to the ground.

I swallowed hard, my throat clenching as my mouth ran dry.

Endeavor let out a heavy sigh, the flames on his body dimming slightly. "If this behavior continues, none of you will be fit to graduate, let alone work in the professional hero field. Learn to control yourselves and act like the heroes you claim to want to be."

With that, he turned and stormed out of the room, leaving the four of us in an uncomfortable silence.

Bakugo was the first to break it, muttering, "Tch. Whatever." He stormed out, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

I clenched my fists, the tension in my chest building up as my eyes started to sting, tears threatening to fall.

"I got you," a soft voice said from beside me. I felt a hand on my back, providing me with an all-too-familiar sense of comfort. I turned slightly to meet Izuku's gaze.

"Let's go back to the dorms."

---

[superbtiti]

The afterstorm - ☂️ academy

{takes place in the beginning of 3ss}

{word count: 0.5k}

__________

"I mean what did you think?" Tia asked, her voice sharp with disbelief, shooting Allison a critical glare.

"That she'll still be in her room? Waiting for you? Of course not!" Her arms flew to each side of her hips her stance the one of a mother scolding a child caught red handed.

"Great.." klaus mumbled, throwing his hands in the air, having given up on trying to keep things at bay. "and here I was hoping for some relaxation today"

The air in the room was heavy, saturated with tension

"the moment we interacted with our father, we threw everything out of balance!" Her was raising "we created a paradox- fuck that- a grandfather Paradox to be exact!"

That scentece caught the attention of the rest of the group.

"A what?" Diego's question was left hanging in the air.

Her arms fell to her side in an exaggerated motion, her voice faltering.

"-I, forget it..I'm starting to sound like five"

She muttered unde her breath.

Her face scrunched as if she had bitten into a sour lime, her brows knitted together, as she felt a shiver run down her spine.

She sighed using her hand to massage her head as a form of relaxation, trying to soothe the raging storm in her mind.

"What is that supposed to mean?"his Sharp and slightly irritated voice cut through the moment, five sat on the barstool he glanced up from his cup in confusion and impatience.

Before she could answer, Alison interjects, her arms crossed in a defensive manner.

"Sorry for hoping my daughter would still be alive!" She snapped back exhaustion and pain lingered in her voice. The weight of everything that has happened going through her mind "After I have lost so much.." Tears threaten to fall from her eyes.

Viktor stepped forward to Alison's defence. "No need to be so harsh on her on, Tia" His voice quiet but solid.

Silence filled the room, the tension being one of an afterstorm as the rain and wind dissipate the heat built up.

Her anger faltered and realization hit her, pity and regret formed in her stomach. She let loose of her irritated tone and stepped closer to her.

"...Alison I-" her voice softer and empathetic than before

"You are hurting- I know, I can see that. But so are we... Do you believe I don't miss my old life? None of us wanted this."

Tia's usual tenacity and assured tone was replaced with the one of vulnerability.

Alison gaze fixed on the ground. No one dared to speak against her, for everyone fell in agreement with her words.

"Look" Tia continued, glazing around at the group. "we have all gone through way too much trauma in the past weeks. Before we make any unnecessary moves.... let's all just take a moment. Calm down, relax a bit, okay?"

For the first time no one argued and collectively agreed. The silence was not comfortable but it wasn't hostile either it was a agreement, it was a start.

[superbtiti]

the fact that i'm no longer the same age as the protagonists of novels and films i once connected to is so heartbreaking. there was a time when I looked forward to turning their age. i did. and i also outgrew them. i continue to age, but they don't; never will. the immortality of fiction is beautiful, but cruel.

[superbtiti]

The Angel Treatment.

It’s more than the Princess Treatment, it’s the Angel Treatment. Both are very similar but the Angel Treatment involves being treated better, having men who are eager to be there for you in your time of need, and being more of an elevated and leveled up woman. I would only want a man to be with a man who knew that being obsessed with me is the way to keep me. If you’re with a man who knows how to treat a woman, it shouldn’t come as a surprise when he texts you telling you that he booked a couples massage at the Ritz Spa and dinner at Nobu afterwards. Angel Treatment isn’t having to tell a man what you expect, it’s him doing it and more without you having to say a single word.

What is an Angel Investor?

The term implies heavy investment. This isn’t a man who’ll send you $800 a week and expect you to be grateful, this is a man who’ll put you up in a $8,000 a month apartment, pay for everything, and want to keep giving you more. Their job is to invest in you so that you grow in value and they do this because they’re HAPPY to see you winning. When I was told that I’d gotten a summer job in NYC, one of my Angel Investors insisted on getting me an apartment and a whole new wardrobe. He also venmos me weekly, we go to dinner, and he's taking me on vacation at the end of the month to celebrate my first year of school starting. He wants to treat me to the finer things in life and so he doesn't make any excuses, he just makes sure I’m provided for.

Why it’s important to ME.

Black women have been treated like the least desirable race for centuries now but we’re not. It’s important to me to feel desired and to be with a man who wants me to know just how much he wants me, is willing to show me, and is willing to invest in me. There’s no point in being with someone who doesn’t deeply desire you, always want to cheer for you, and has the capability to lavish you in gifts. Black women have accepted broken love in too many ways and now’s the time for us to start refusing it. If you know your worth then you don’t go for a sugar daddy, you find an Angel Investor who will give you access to more opportunities, more life, and more money and pleasure. You deserve to be with a man who will roll out the white carpet for you and show you that you’re an angel he’d do anything for.

[superbtiti]

Nah cuz 4+4=8 nd that's what u did

agape- nicholas britell

summary: miles is takin down ur braids 

warnings: Grammarly hates me, the patriarchy, a dash of toxic masculinity, miles being a product of that grrah grah boom type masculinity, aave (no im not translating shit for you yall got access to urban dictionary and its not really a warning), i edited it myself so lmk if there are any mistakes

sueñito- little dream, bonito- handsome/ pretty boy, no me importa- i don't care/ it's not important to me

w/c: 1.5 k

reader's black coded cus im black so deal w it <3

i think this something every black boy be needin deep down

“Stop movin, ma” 

“It’s knotty,” 

“You had these in for how long?” 

Silence. 

“There's your answer right there, mama,”  

“Sorry,” 

“Nun to be sorry for, just hold still,” 

Currently sitting on the bathroom floor criss-cross apple sauce, Miles was sitting on the toilet, your head between his knees, while he was taking down the frizzy lemonade braids that barely hugged your scalp anymore. 

“Miles?” 

He hums in response, rat tail comb in one hand, a tub of coconut oil in the other, threading the tail of the comb through the extensions down your back  

“You’re the prettiest boy in all of Brooklyn,” 

“Shut up” 

“Prettiest boy I’ve ever seen,” 

“Nuh-uh,” 

“Fuck you mean ‘nuh uh’? The little freckles all over your cheeks? Cutest things I’ve ever seen, especially how they’re all slightly different shades, like lil polka dots all over your face, gives me a map a’ where to kiss. The little tiny dimple on the left side of your face? Adorable, 10/10, no notes. Also very kissable." He's still now, staring at the back of your head, using bundles strewn over his shoulder, mouth agape. “Them thick and long ass eyelashes? I could stare at ‘em all day, they look like teeny tiny butterfly wings when you rest your eyes.” 

“Shut up,” he whispers, still unmoving, the little dab of coconut oil on his fingers slowly dribbling down his wrist 

“Your mind pretty as hell, too, I like listening to what you have to hear when you let me,” you mumble, pressing tiny kisses into his cargo pant–clad kneecap. 

“Stop doin that shit, ma” 

“What?” 

“Talkin all crazy like that,” 

“I’m not talkin crazy, miles I’m being honest,” 

“You makin me out to be some weak ass lil boy,” 

“Miles.” you turn around abruptly, staring at him dead in the eye. “I’m jus being honest wit you. What's going on?” 

“It’s nothin, ma, turn around”  

“Sueñito. Lemme know what's up,” 

“It’s nothin,” 

You huff, turning around to face the bottom of the sink again. Silence bellows throughout the bathroom, Miles rubbing oil on your braids to detangle them to later drag the comb in once again and throw the discarded hair extension over his shoulder. The only sound between the two of you is the Marvin Gaye spinning on the record player, rooms away, dull basslines thrumming through the apartment. 

“Ion like this,” 

“What?” 

“Whatever jus happened, we talk about what's bothering us,” 

“Ain't nothin botherin me, ma,” 

“Then why you start buggin' the second I get to complimenting you?” 

“Cus ian wit all that girly shit,” 

“Fuck you mean girly shit, I’m jus tryna love up on you Miles,” your nostrils flare as you stare ahead of you.  

“Baby, I’m all for that but–” 

“Miles, did someone tell you boys can't get that?” 

A silence. 

“Baby.” 

“What?” 

“Jus cus you a boy dont mean you don't deserve love,” 

“Aint nobody say allat–” 

“Shut up Ian done,” you say, swiftly turning around and snagging the oil and comb from his hand “jus cus you a boy doesn't mean you don't deserve to feel shit miles. Ion know what it was like wit your last girl, but Ian her. Okay? You allowed to be a person wimme, you know that right?” 

“Ma–” 

“Shut up I still ain't done yet. Miles I’m real, I’m right here. real like you, I promise you I’m not goin nowhere right now,” 

“You done?” 

“Yeah,”  

“C’mere,” he motions to his lap, taking the comb and oil out of your hands and setting them on the tiled floor, laying out the discarded bundles.  

“ ‘s oil all up on my hands” 

“No me importa ma, come up on here,”  

Obeying and wiping the excess coconut oil off your hand, you do. Straddling his lap, and looking into his eyes, examining the twinge of sadness in his eyes. 

“Talk to me, mama,” 

“I want you to know that you deserve love and that you’re allowed to feel some typa way. I want you to talk to me, Miles. I care about you so much and I wanna make sure you’re good. I love hearing you talk, but Ion like havin to beg you to talk to me. I love jus bein in your presence, but I hate feelin like that Miles. I don’t know who told you whatever's going through your head right now but they dead wrong. I wanna know how you be feelin, I wanna know.” 

“Why you even talk like this to me?” 

“Cus I’m your girl, n I like to kiss up on you and love all up on you,” 

At this, he averts his eyes, trying to escape your gaze, his breath audibly speeding up. 

“Mm mm, don't do that Miles. Please breathe,” 

You plead, subconsciously pressing your middle three fingers under his jaw trying to measure his heart rate. Almost as a reflex to hide from you, he shrugs your hand away from under his jaw and pulls his hoodie over his mouth.

“Nah nah, don't hide from me neither,”  

“Ain’t nobody hidin from you,” 

“Jus cus you a boy don’t mean you don't deserve them random ass cuddles, or someone to tie up your durag or wash your hair. It don’t mean you shouldn't get flowers or hugs or them lil hickies behind your ear. Don't mean you not allowed to be sad or mad or wanna cry. Now Ion know who told you or made you feel that way but they dead wrong Miles. You allowed to feel with me,” 

“Ian some lil boy runnin around though, that shit ain't for me,” 

“If you wasn't supposed to feel and acknowledge your feelings, why would you be able to feel them? They there for a reason,” 

Still straddled on his lap, he looks up at you with the tiny leverage you have on him. His eyes are big and doe-like, almost as if he’s scared to make this next step, say this next sentence.” 

“Ion know why,” he mumbles, voice soft and scared. suddenly he’s kissin up on you, gripping anything he can get his hands on, like he’s making up for lost time, lost feelings. It's urgent and a little rough, though his lips are soft and velvety, a twinge of menthol chapstick on them.  

“Yo yo yo, slow down. Ian goin nowhere” you whisper into his mouth, nails gently raking across his neck “ ‘m right here Miles, see?” you ask, guiding his hands to feel on the left side of your chest, right above your heart. “ ‘s my heart under there, I'm right here okay? I’m real, Miles I swear,” 

“You’re real?” he whispers, breath shaky and uneven fisting the thin fabric of your camisole under the evergreen zip-up, in an attempt to feel more of your heart. 

“You allowed to feel your feelings the same way you feel my heart,” 

He still looks astonished, scared, and frozen. suddenly it wasn’t him you were talking to anymore. it was the scared little Brooklyn boy who had all these feelings stored away inside him, unsure of what to do or who to show them to.  

“ ‘m sitting right here miles. I’m your girl, okay? This is real, and you are real,” 

“I’m real?” tears begin to swim in his eyes. 

“You’re real miles. and those feelings in that big heart of yours? Those are real too. And if you let me, I wanna hear all of 'em.”  

His body stills once more against you, a small tear gliding down his cheek. 

“I love you,” 

And then he’s sobbing. 

“Sshh, hey it's okay” you whisper, holding him close to your chest. “I love you so much I can’t hardly breathe when I'm around you. It’s okay and you're okay, Miles. I’m real and this is real and you. You are real.” you mumble into his braids, holding him with the protectiveness of a mother with a small child. 

He just sat there, his head buried in your chest as he cried quietly, letting everything out. You just sat and let him cry and vent through his tears. All the things he had bottled up, discouraged to show to anyone. Sooner or later the tears slow to a stop, his face puffy and hot. 

Gently tugging the ends of his braids, he looks up at you. 

“You feel better sueñito?” you ask, dragging the cuff of your sweater to dry his face and pressing butterfly kisses to his cheeks in its wake. He did nothing but nod lazily, seemingly lighter, and nuzzling his face into your chest. 

“Lemme finish wiping up your face n then you can be all up on me, bonito, okay? 

He just nodded, dropping his head back to rest against the bathroom wall, the half-taken-out braids on your scalp no longer th task at hand. Reaching behind him you grab a baby wipe and swipe the tears and snot off his face, leaving his skin with a glossy finish. Holding his chin up, you look dead in his eyes. 

“You so beautiful Miles.” 

And this time, he nods. 

🩷 reblogs are always appreciated for reach <3