#maybe it's the thought of them saving each other.

[valleydolli]

Only You | Chapter Four

CW𝜗𝜚 MDNI, Stalking, Obsessiveness, Controlling Behaviour, Love Bombing, Murder, Fluff, Kidnapping, Smut, Toxic Sukuna, Yandere Sukuna? Readers a sweetie, (Touch her you die… like actually…)

𝜗𝜚 Series Masterlist

𝜗𝜚 Chapter Three | Chapter Five

𝜗𝜚 WC: 3.5k

You fell asleep instantly, drooling a little on his chest, but why would he mind? He's been dreaming of this since he met you. He can’t stop stroking your hair, your face, your body. He's just so happy to be able to touch you. 

You’re a deep sleeper; deep enough that he was able to open your phone and put a tracker on it. As if the cameras all around your apartment weren't enough. Now he’ll really know what you’re doing 24/7. He scours through everything, your messages, your photos, emails. He didn’t miss a thing. He was most interested in your messages with that neighbour of yours… Satoru. Or ‘Toru 💕’ as you saved him under. You gave Sukuna the same heart, just without the nickname. Is he not deserving of one? You call him 'Kuna' all the time. Do you still call him 'Toru?

He continues to scroll further up your messages stumbling across something he’s not sure if he should be happy to see or fucking livid since you didn’t send them to him. It’s a photo of your nude self asking him to come over… you’re sexting each other. He takes a moment, taking in a deep breath. You didn’t know each other yet, this was two years ago. The two of you have been close. He’s not sure if the close was a relationship or just fucking. There’s no “I love yous,” no indication of the two of you dating at all. Either or the feeling sucks. He thought he’d be your first, but he guesses that’s out the window. He has to hope you’re not fucking Satoru now. 

Hopefully. 

It’s 3:00 am now, and he still hasn’t taken a moment to not stare at your sleeping body.  His sleeping beauty. Not Satoru’s, not Ren’s, not that ugly bastard from the club. 

His. 

Maybe in a month, he could ask you to be his? 

Officially. 

You already belong to him in his eyes. He might as well start telling people you’re his girlfriend. You sigh deeply, moving from Sukuna's chest onto your back. Your lips are swollen and plump, as if you were kissed… He could kiss you, right?

Just a small peck… a small… peck.

He carefully leans down, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, and it twitches a little like a bunny rabbit. Which causes him to smile slightly, letting out a quiet airy laugh. He carefully brushes his lips against yours before pressing into them softly. 

A small whimper creeps from his lips before pulling away. 

Shit. 

God, he wants to kiss you again. 

But his dick is so hard it hurts. He feels so dirty, but there’s a voice in his head telling him to do it again.

Just once more.

So he does just that, pecking your lips once more. Sucking lightly on your bottom lip. Do you sleep this deeply every night? Or is it because you were drinking?

“Fuck… Love you, I love you so much.” He whimpers softly against your lips. 

He needs to cum so fucking bad. 

You start to move again, flipping onto your stomach, face squished against the pillow. Sukuna runs the tip of his fingers across your lips. 

“I’ll have you sooner than later, I swear,” he whispers.

He looks away from you, looking down at the… problem you caused. Should he do it here or be a good man and leave? He continues to play with your bottom lip while he thinks. Rubbing at his erection while you soundly sleep next to him.

“For fuck sake.” 

He quickly leaves the guest room, heading to his own room to relieve himself. 

He sits at the end of his bed, slightly pulling down his boxers, feeling the pleasurable tightness around his swollen tip. He closes his eyes, imagining you in front of him, kneeling so obediently. Like the good girl you are. Wrapping your perfect lips around his swollen tip. Tightly jerking at his length—

“Mmph!” He covers his mouth, quickly spurting out heaps of his cum all over his boxers. That might have been the fastest he’s ever cum. Or was it when he touched himself in your room?  

15 seconds. 

Damn.

Will he last that long when he slides into you? God, he thinks he’ll die of embarrassment if he does. He’s now wondering how long you’ll stay for and if or when you’ll come back again. The only reason you’re here right now is because of that piece of shit, jackass that was harassing you. He’s still thinking of what he’s going to do with him. Little did that asshole know, Sukuna swiped his wallet, and of course, his ID conveniently had his address. He’s about 30 minutes away from the two of you.  Far, but close enough. Too close for his liking. 

Jogo. 

What’s with all these guys harassing you, having the worst names? Fuck, he hates them. He might hate both of them more than you. 

He’ll deal with all this another time, not now. He needs to get back to you and soak in the fact that you’re sleeping in his penthouse right now. 

He changes his boxers before walking back into the room you’re peacefully sleeping in. Slipping in next to you, pulling you onto his chest. As if he didn’t just masturbate across the hallway because he kissed you. 

He hopes you’ll stay for a while in the morning. It’s a Sunday, you can’t be that busy, and he doubts you’d want to be at home alone right now. He shuts his eyes, praying that when he wakes up, you’ll still be next to him. 

——

You wake up on a hard surface. That hard surface being Sukuna’s chest. There are prickly hairs across it, scratching your face slightly. You examine the tattoos across his entire body. Bands around his arm and torso, other markings on his chest. Incredible. You carefully run your fingers along each tattoo, completely forgetting he’s trying to sleep, until you feel him grasp your arm, causing you to jump. His eyes are still closed as if he were asleep, but he questions your actions. “What’re you doing?” His voice is deep and sleepy, startling you. 

“I umm knew you had tattoos, but I never properly paid attention to them. I love them.”

Sukuna opens his eyes, watching you continue to trace his tattoos. “When did you get them?” You ask, laying your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat quicken. You see him hesitate before answering you. “When I was 17. My dad has a few of the same too. Guess it’s a family thing.” 

He’s lying to you, by the way. He got them in prison. They’re prison tattoos. In the Edo period in Japan, they would mark criminals with these tattoos. Though it’s not the Edo period, Sukuna Itadori is most definitely a criminal.

But you don’t need to know that.

“I love them, they suit you,” you smile. “I kind of want some tattoos myself.” Sukuna frowns slightly. Which causes your brows to furrow. “No, you don’t think I’ll suit any tattoos?”

“You’re already perfect, why ruin yourself with meaningless ink? You’re like a blank canvas,” he explains as he lightly brushes your arm. “That’s beautiful to me.” You stare at him with gleaming eyes. He thinks you're beautiful. You quickly push your face into the crevice of his neck, your cheeks hurt because you can’t stop smiling. You hear him chuckling before questioning you. “What’s wrong? Are you shy?” You slowly nod your head before sitting back up, facing Sukuna. His maroon eyes are scanning your face until he reaches your lips.

He wishes he could kiss you again.

Properly.

Before he can speak again, you slam your lips onto his, shocking Sukuna completely. Did you really just do that, or is he still sleeping? He pinches his thigh, feeling the tight sting on his skin. You actually just kissed him. He moves you on top of him, slightly grinding you onto him. Heaven, he’s in heaven. Your tongues are dancing with one another, getting hungrier for one another by the second. He should stop you. He can't control himself. You do too much for him, he’s gonna—  A groan rumbles from Sukuna’s throat. 

He stiffens. 

He might just end his life. 

You slowly detach your lips from his before looking down at his wet boxers. You don’t even know that this is the second pair he’s changed into. God, what the fuck is wrong with him?

“‘m sorry,” he mutters, while not looking at you. You’re still on top of him which he doesn’t mind at all, but he’s really, really fucking embarrassed right now. You place your hands on his warm cheeks, which prompts him to open his eyes, finding you smiling at him. Not a mocking smile, a comforting one. “Don’t be embarrassed, that’s honestly a compliment to me if you think about it.” You place a soft kiss on his lips, rolling off his body. He’s still as red as a tomato. 

“Do you have a spare toothbrush I can use?” 

He doesn’t respond; he just nods his head, confirming your question. So you sit up, grabbing his hand, telling him to show you. After you both brushed your teeth, Sukuna is still on edge because;

One. He doesn’t want you to leave. 

Two. He came in his pants from kissing you. 

“Erm, do you want me to make you breakfast?” 

Yes, angel say yes. 

“Umm, I need to let Himiko get her things. I’ve got to get back.” 

Fuck.

“I’ll take you.” He says, not giving you the chance to reply, grabbing his keys and guiding you out the door. 

“I can make us breakfast at your place after she leaves?” He quickly tells you.

“Y-yeah okay, sounds good.”

“Perfect, let’s go.”

——

You walk up the steps to your apartment with Sukuna stomping behind you. The two of you come into view of your apartment door, finding Himiko leaning against your door with messy hair and smudged makeup. She hears your footsteps immediately turning her head towards you, running to hug you. “Oh, I’m so so sorry! I was drunk, stupid, careless. All of the above, but I can’t lose you, please, I love you so much.” She’s hugging you tightly, sniffling slightly into your neck, while stroking your waist gently. You don’t know what to say. But the tall man behind you has plenty to. Surely you don’t believe this bullshit ass apology. And why is she touching you like you’re her girlfriend or something? Himikos’ face lifts from your neck, staring dead into Sukuna’s eyes. She scowls at him. Why the fuck did she just– “Do you forgive me?” she asks as she instantly changes her facial expression for you. “It’s fine, Himi, I’m over it already.” 

Angel, You're a damn pushover... 

You kiss her cheek before letting her go. She’s slightly blushing from your little gesture. You turn behind around, pulling Sukuna closer towards her to properly introduce him. “This is Sukuna, Himi. Sukuna, this is Himiko. Let’s pretend this is the first time you guys are meeting, okay?” Sukuna’s face is blank, he really does not like this girl. Will he have to be around her more often when the two of you start dating? She seems clingy. He wants her gone, but he can’t get rid of your apparent “best friend.” 

“Nice to meet you… Himiko,” he mutters bluntly. “Yeah, you too,” she also replies back bluntly.

You look between them, sensing the awkwardness from a mile away. 

“Well, um, lemme let you get your stuff.” 

You open your front door, letting the two into your house. Himiko skipping inside and Sukuna, of course, letting you in before him. “Is it okay if I shower quickly? It'll be 5 minutes. Just don’t… kill each other,” you say as you eye the two of them, you can wholeheartedly tell that they don’t like each other already. Sukuna because of what she did yesterday, and Himiko? Well, Himiko is always like this. Anytime there’s a guy you like, she immediately hates him. Never giving them a chance. Not one. According to her, “no one deserves you.” “You’re too good for them.” Was she right? sometimes? Yes, but she cannot do this with Sukuna.

Ever.

Sukuna takes a seat on your sofa, making himself comfortable, waiting for you, while Himiko… was collecting her things from your room. He’s watching her from his phone, of course.

She’s strange. She’s snooping around in your room, freak. Who does that? 

…

Nevermind. 

You make your way out of the shower, running into Himiko lying comfortably on your bed. She says your name as if she’s about to tell you off. “I don’t like him.”

Shocker. 

You roll your eyes, taking your towel off, and applying your lotion. Ignoring your negative Nancy of a friend. “Are you listening to me? He looks like a criminal. And why has he got such an angry face? What’s he mad about?”

“Himiko? Do you not get tired of this? Every time I like a guy, you act like this, it’s exhausting.” 

“It's exhausting for me, too. I just want you to be with someone who’ll take care of you. Does he even have a good job? I mean, he has a nice car, but anyone can these days.” You stare at her from the mirror of your vanity, sighing deeply. You turn to her, telling her what Sukuna does for a living. “He has a great job, he has a great apartment, he’s a good guy. Himi and I actually really like him. Plus, he protected me yesterday when you left me.”

“You said you were over it,” she murmured. 

“I’m over it, meaning I forgive you, but I’m not just going to forget, I mean it hasn’t even been 24 hours.” She gets up from your bed, wrapping her arms around your shoulder, turning your head to face her. “I am sorry, okay. I would never want anything like that to happen to you. I was stupid.” She’s gently caressing your cheek with her thumb, resting her forehead against your own. 

Sukuna is, of course, witnessing all of this, and he’s livid. She’s clearly in love with you. God, he’s in love with you too, but you are so damn blind. 

“Himi, I really like him, seriously, and I would really, truly appreciate you getting along with him, I mean, what if we get married, are you still gonna hate him then?”

“You’re thinking about marrying him already?” She says with a disgusted look on her face.

“I’m just saying it as a hypothetical, but I don’t want to date just to date, I want to fall in love, get married, have kids. How can I do that when you scare all the guys I meet away?”

“Just give him a chance, if you love me, you’ll do that for me.” 

“…Fine.” 

It takes 20 minutes for the two of you to come out of your room, 15 minutes longer than you promised, but it’s not your fault; you’re being distracted by your secret admirer. 

“Sorry I took so long,” you say, giving him a peck on the lips. He goes to reply, but nothing comes out. 

This is you guys’ second kiss— no third. What will the fourth be like? Or the 20th? Will he count every single one? 

Most probably, yes.

“Sukuna… I’m leaving… and I hope you guys have a good… Sunday. Goodbye.” 

She slams your front door, finally leaving the two of you alone. You place yourself on top of him giving him a gentle smile.

“I’m sorry about her. She always acts funny when I start seeing people. I don't know why.”

Because she wants you for herself, angel. 

“I don’t know, it’s weird, no? You should tell her to stop.”

“It’s fine, as long as she doesn’t do it with you. I really hope we have a long-lasting relationship.” 

Sukuna’s lips twitch into a small smile. “So do I.”

“I want to know more about you, and I want you to know more about me.”

He already knows nearly everything about you, but you genuinely know nothing about him. Do you need to know… everything?

“Hey, if you’re not ready to tell me things about you, I don’t mind waiting. Don’t stress.” 

“Thank you.” 

——

You and Sukuna have been seeing each other for almost two months now. Things are as great as can be. He brings you flowers at the beginning of every week. He picks you up from work with Yuji. He buys you crazy expensive gifts. And she showers you with the love and appreciation you’ve yearned for. He’s perfect. Now all you’re waiting for is for him to ask you to be his girlfriend. He’s told you he’s going to be busy this week with some cases at work he needs to go over, so you haven’t seen much of him, but you’re hoping that when you next see each other, he’ll finally ask you to be his. 

“Please, man, I was drunk, I didn’t know what I was doing. I have a family, a wife, two boys.” Jogo struggles to speak out.

Sukuna has Jogo locked up in a cage in a storage unit that only he owns, miles away from the city, nearer to his family estate. No one knows he has this. It was supposed to be a place for him to relax and get away from his nagging family. But now it’s turned into something more sinister than that. For the past three days, Jogo has been held captive and tortured profusely for what he did to you that night. Cuts, lumps, and bruises all across his body. He told him he doesn’t forget a face, but it seems that Jogo was doubtful. He thought Sukuna was a stupid meathead sending out empty threats.

How wrong was he?

Sukuna followed Jogo for a good 5 days, collecting a lot of information about him. He does, in fact, have a wife and two boys. He’s also cheating on said wife with an intern at the office where he works at and she happens to be 30 weeks pregnant with his child. He paid her a hefty sum of money to terminate the pregnancy and disappear, but she, of course, said no, took the money, and left the country. He’s a regular at Kenjaku’s club, and it’s not his first time harassing young girls. Sometimes even more than that.

He's a repeated offender. 

Sukuna is doing God's work right now. This guy doesn’t deserve to walk on the same planet you reside on, let alone breathe the same air you do. Why the fuck would he allow it. Every person who harms you should be taken out of the equation.

Reduced to none.

He will continue to remove any danger that crosses your path. Ren, Jogo, anyone. 

“Jogo, I already know a lot about you. Did I tell you that?”

“I—“

“I know you’re married with kids and a baby on the way. But wait, that baby isn’t your wife’s baby, it’s your mistress’s, right? A bastard.” 

“I know.” He mutters

“Oh, you know? Do you know your wife knows now, too? You have so much proof on that phone of yours. I didn’t even need to do much, I just sent her all she needed to see.” 

Sukuna picks up a letter from the table behind him, opening the small door on the front of the box, and placing it in for Jogo to take. Before closing the door, Jogo immediately tries to open the one on his side. 

Sukuna tuts. 

“It doesn’t work like that. It only opens when I close my side.”

Sukuna closes his side, telling Jogo to open his and read the letter that was sent to him. “Go on, open it,” Sukuna tells him as he takes a seat, largely grinning. “Don’t keep me waiting, I wanna know what it says. Read it to me.” Jogo rips open the large envelope, skimming through the first few lines. He looks as if he saw a ghost. He looks up at Sukuna, who is still grinning as wide as the Cheshire cat. 

“Read it to me. I’m waiting. What is it?”

Jogos adam’s apple bobs. “It’s divorce papers.” 

“Good,  and what does it say on the uhh 10th row?” Sukuna points out.

Jogo counts down the rows, landing on the 10th. “I’ll have no assets...” 

Sukuna does a loud clap, pushing himself forward and walking towards the glass cage. “It’s fine, don’t worry. You’re not even gonna need any assets. I’m gonna kill you.”

“Wha— No!”

“Yes, I can’t have you walking around aimlessly. What if you run into her?”

“Run into who? My wife?”

“No, don’t be stupid. I don’t care about her. I’m talking about mine.” 

“Please, I was drunk, I-I don’t want to die.”

Sukuna walks into the cage, grabbing Jogo by the throat, slamming into the wall. Just like their first encounter. He whispers sinisterly in his face. 

“Being drunk isn’t a fucking excuse. I don’t care if you want to die. I’m sure every girl you assaulted didn’t want to be raped either but you did it anyway. You’re dirt on the bottom of my shoe.

You. Don’t. Deserve to live.” 

Sukuna looks down, noticing urine trickling down Jogos' leg. He’s scared. 

Good. 

He should be. 

“I’ll take my time with you, I can promise you that.”

𝜗𝜚 Authors Note: I think I have nothing to say. I sat outside in my garden finishing this. It was really nice very sunny. I got a lil tan :p

extra note: so like i got really distracted and i started playing overwatch and then i started watching an overwatch streamer and i was trying to read through this but i was so fucking distracted omg. so i’m sorry i took so long LMFAO i’m actually addicted.

𝜗𝜚 Chapter Three | Chapter Five

[obeymeluv]

Kalim's family tradition of seeing a fortune-teller before introducing the partner leaves him with concerns when she says something comforting and cryptic about your future with him.

There was a tradition in the Al-Asim family where a fortune-teller must be consulted prior to bringing a partner to see the family for the first time. It was a highly regarded practice meant to see the compatibility of the couple and how it might impact the family. Rumor had it that an Al-Asim had been saved long, long ago by a fortune-teller and promised them a life without want in return. Kalim sat nervously, swallowing thickly as the swathed woman lit her incense and rearranged her trinkets.

Jamil stood guard outside the tent, as did several other men loyal to the family. Kalim knew he was safe; he was more scared of what she may have to say. Divinatory magic was her family's specialty and she had a fantastic record. Thus far she'd correctly predicted the gender of six of his siblings, which suitors would come for his older sister, and the night his father would've been successfully poisoned (if not for her dream and intervention).

He couldn't imagine a life without you! What could she possibly have to say?

Sure, you weren't far along in your relationship but Kalim knew in his heart that he didn't want anyone else. For him, the sun rose and set in your eyes. The relationship was pretty serious, given Jamil's threats to strangle him if he talked about you anymore than he already talked to you.

"Be not afraid, little Al-Asim," she smiled, talking in their shared tongue, "I see a very happy life for you."

Kalim jumped, snapping to alertness. He didn't realize he'd zoned out staring at the smoke winding up from the incense sticks. She hummed and swirled her hands around the giant crystal ball in front of her, inhaling the smoke and blowing it over the sphere. Some of his siblings warned him that she would describe the partner--with scary accuracy; she could even tell him what toe his brother-in-law had a freckle on!--before giving the vision.

She correctly guessed the color of your skin and quoted his favorite way to describe your eyes. Kalim physically shivered; apologizing hastily soon after. His cheeks were a fierce pink that made her chuckle. "For all your privilege, the greatest one is to have them as your spouse. They will nurture your independence as much as you desire to coddle them for all of their suffering. You will become a great leader and they will guide your hand. The foundation of your dynasty is made with mud and tears but it will support something beautiful and prosperous."

That was it? It was over? She dismissed him sweetly and he stumbled out, dazed and deep in thought.

Why would there be tears? Happy tears, he hoped! You and Kalim had never fought, much less raised your voices at each other! He didn't know his brows were knit with concern until Jamil placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. Kalim blew out a heavy sigh, feeling himself relax at the touch he didn't know he needed.

"Good?" Jamil's brow quirked with curiosity. Per the tradition, Kalim could not share the fortune-teller's words with anyone. It had to unfold as she described. She would tell his parents and things would go from there. Worry gnawed at him, twisting his guts into knots as he realized not even you could know.

"Yeah," Kalim mumbled. That was a bit slow for Jamil's liking. Kalim wouldn't look at him directly and was twisting the biggest earring in his left ear. He was nervous about something, Jamil observed.

"Then you have a week to enjoy. Be happy." Jamil patted him on the back as they made their way to the main house.

As expected, his parents were thrilled with the news. His mother was conflicted with the idea of her little one blossoming into a man, of course, but could not deny she was intrigued by a 'beautiful and prosperous dynasty'. How many grandkids was that, exactly? Maybe she could pull the fortune-teller aside and ask her in private! Kalim had aspirations of a big family, like his father, so her imagination was running wild.

Kalim's heart squeezed at his father's large, comforting hand. The half-hug pressing him to the reassuring belly was also nice. "Don't fret over the tears, my son. Tears are like rain in the desert, they help things grow."

"No relationship is perfect, anyways!" his sister waves her hand in the air, "everyone screams and cries at some point!"

"For different reasons!" his brother cackled, dodging two of her slaps. She swung a silk pillow with gold threads and teardrop rubies hanging from the corners. He yelped when the rubies smacked him, complaining to their mother.

"It will be fine!" his mother swooped down to pinch his cheeks. Her perfume swirled around him and Kalim couldn't help but break out into a smile. "You've sunshine in your soul, my love, and people will always want the light. Don't worry!"

"Are they staying for the whole break?" his sister asked, voice curious and sweet as she maintained eye contact with her cowering brother, pillow poised for another blow.

"That's the plan!" Kalim smiled.

His sister gave a squeal that made them both cringe. "I have so many ideas! I have to make some calls!"

The plan was for Kalim to spend the night with you in Ramshackle, give you a quick run-through of his siblings, and bring you to his home in the Scalding Sands in the morning. You were the first person he'd ever brought home on break and it was a very big deal.

He steps through the mirror with kisses from his mother and siblings still tingling on his skin. Kalim loves his family dearly but he's happy all of the pressure, worry, and excitement is on the other side of the mirror. The magic crackles over the surface, dies, and becomes a still pool. It's not until Jamil nudges him gently with one of the bags that Kalim realizes he was lost in his own reflection.

His own thoughts.

Most of the groceries and luxuries are restocks for his and Jamil's room in Scarabia but there's a few things for you. Kalim always liked to bring gifts over when he visited even though you've told him a million times that he was the gift. Jamil's threatening the boundaries of his role as a watchful servant to house Al-Asim when he tells Kalim to go straight to you and that he'll come to Ramshackle in an hour. It's a dangerous game they play, Kalim constantly overanalyzing the technicalities of what he can get away with to give Jamil some semblance of freedom and him, his independence, but as long as neither one of them say anything it works.

The white-haired boy chuckles to himself as he realizes he has, in fact, become more independent since knowing you. Sure NRC is protected with charms and enchantments but that still counts, right? He knocks on your door and you answer in your comfy clothes. Kalim feels his heart flutter and melt; you may have holes in the hem of your shirt and your pants are slightly too big because they're from a thrift shop but it doesn't take away from how beautiful you are.

In this moment he thinks his mother is wrong. You must be the sun and he, a sunflower, because he's always looking in your direction. There is nowhere he wants to be but with you and he is ever-reaching. You're chastising him about bringing gifts--again!--but he doesn't hear it. The second you arms circle around him, warm and soft, all of his senses fall away except for the one that registers your touch.

It's better than any massage he's ever gotten. It's as if his soul is a precious infant and you are the ultimate protection. The best comfort.

You manage to get him out of the doorway and Kalim laughs as you become an awkward tangle of limbs. He separates just long enough to set up the treats and show you the gifts--a silk pillow, a body scrub, a hair mask, and another set of sleepwear--before fishing out the little cards he'd made.

It's a huge stack! He sees your wide eyes and giggles as he pulls you against him, rubbing your arm comfortingly. "I have a lot of siblings, remember?"

"There's over thirty!"

"I have a lot of siblings," he repeats, cheeks heating up.

Jamil uses one of the three spare keys you made and finds you curled together, Kalim snoring quietly in the crook of your neck. The floorboard creaks under his foot and your eyes snap open. He sees the hand in Kalim's hair flinch but he doesn't move. Kalim's handmade family cards are all over the small coffee table, as are some half-eaten snacks. "Get ready," he whispers to you, "it's going to be an experience."

Jamil's words left you not knowing what to expect but you certainly couldn't predict the towering, ornate palace or the sheer number of white-haired people ready to drown you in the impressive entryway. Hands pulled you from all directions, hugs coming two at a time. You tried to turn your head at the feel of someone touching you hair but couldn't. Someone grabbed your face and you found yourself staring into Mrs. Al-Asim's eyes. "My grandchildren will be lucky to have such eyes!" she teased.

Kalim grabs you now, laughing nervously as he weaves through the siblings like it's nothing. You take a relieved breath and look back on the crowd. They've settled but you can definitely see where Kalim gets his excited puppy look. He introduces you to his mother and father first, breaking his siblings up into two groups: those older than him and those younger than him. One of his siblings is a literal toddler and it makes you wonder how old Mrs. Al-Asim is because she's as youthful and exuberant as Kalim!

Flawless, really. Good genes!

Said toddler has been watching everyone come up and hug you or shake your hand. He waddles up to you and plops himself down on your foot, hugging your leg. One of the older girls scoops him up as he giggles, another yanking you away and down a series of massive halls. Kalim tries to take you back but one of the girls ushering you along calls something out in their language and the kids swarm him.

"That's a dirty trick and you know it!" Kalim yells.

The room you spill into is just as massive as any other part of the manor. You take in the gold thread on the carpet, the expensive-looking vases, and nearly faint at a walk-in closet that looks big enough to fit the first floor of Ramshackle in it.

You're beginning to understand what Jamil said about the whole thing being 'an experience'. It was just luxury upon luxury with the Al-Asims! Some of the girls were holding up pre-made outfits, telling you not to be discouraged because you would have a custom outfit within a few hours. Others were holding rolls of uncut fabrics under your chin at the advice of a...color analyst? Someone is measuring your waist and it makes you flinch.

You can't give it much thought after one of the sisters ask if you're a 'jewelry person' and they start bickering about what would suit you. You can't even begin to imagine how much what they're holding costs! It feels like you're in there for hours but you come out with a casual outfit, one for swimming, one for shopping, one for the dinner party, and a different style of sleepwear you'd never seen before. There's more to come, they promise, but this is decent enough to start. Stunned by the opulence and generosity, they drag you back through the halls to show you off.

Your heart is fit to burst with how welcoming the Al-Asims are. It makes tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Kalim looks like he wants to cry, too. His mother and father assure your safety, thank you for being so precious to Kalim, and welcome you into their culture with the wish that you embrace it. The kids promise to teach you all kinds of words and it makes you laugh.

The outfit is colorful and you're glad it covers you because you'd probably burn to a crisp otherwise. You walk over to Kalim, trying not to stumble in the shoes as you get used to the feel of things breezing and jingling around you. He catches you and his eyes start to sparkle with tears again. "Did I step on your toe?" you joke.

"You look so pretty, hayati!" he sniffles like he can stop the tears from slipping down his face. Kalim is always daydreaming of your future together but something about the realness of you being in his arms, wearing traditional Scalding Sand garb, hits his tender heart hard.

"Come on now, stop crying. We can't do anything fun if you're crying!" you dab at his eyes with a flowy sleeve and he leans into you.

"That's one of our words!" one of the kids points at Kalim. "Do you know what that means?"

"My life," you reply, taking Kalim in your arms like you have a million times before. Every time he's ever said it, actually.

One of his brothers walks by and teases him about teaching you sweet nothings. Kalim glares at him from your shoulder, pouting. He points at his brother and yells something. The kids take off after him. "I told them he's 'it' for the next round of tag!" Kalim beams, satisfied with himself.

Your first day in the Scalding Sands is an innocent one of meeting family, playing games, and having a delicious dinner that isn't unlike one of the parties at Scarabia. Kalim is by your side at every opportunity. Some of his younger siblings try to feed you and teach your how to eat the food, ignoring Kalim as he politely explains you're big enough to feed yourself. He's trying to keep them from choking you with food but can't deny that you look adorable with your cheeks packed like a squirrel.

The party winds down and you fall into your usual habit of picking up everything. Jamil hisses at you to stop but you ignore him. Kalim saves the moment by swooping in to collect things, too. It's clear the help is stunned and trying not to look too surprised in front of his parents. "Ah, I see," his mother laughs over her glass, "your sanadi."

Kalim whines, guiding you hurriedly to the kitchen, clicking his tongue at you before you take a wrong turn. He removes his bracelets and gives you gloves to wear, putting on a pair of his own soon after. It's not until you're wrist deep and washing the dishes that you ask what the new word meant.

"'Sanadi' means backbone." he blushes, suddenly very interested in the custom plates, "it's a term of endearment in the Scalding Sands."

"I like it," you smile at him.

Your first night in the massive palace is odd. You know you're in one of the most protected places in the world but it's new and the shadows and sounds make you nervous. Trying to focus on the obscenely soft pillows and comfy sheets help a little. You're almost asleep when a noise outside the window draws your attention. A little wary, you open the window.

"Want a preview before the girls run you all over the Sands tomorrow?" Kalim offers you his hand, carpet fluttering patiently underneath him.

"Sure. Couldn't sleep anyways," you shrug. He secures your hands, body over yours to protect you from the windchill as he points out details in the palace before telling carpet how to get past the garden and gates without being seen. Clearly he's snuck out enough for people to look skyward now and then.

Kalim's only fifteen minutes into describing the bazaar when he realizes you're asleep. He gives a breathy laugh, tugging gently on one of carpet's tassels to make him head back to the palace. Carpet glides smoothly into the still-open window of the guest room, rolling you back into the sheets as he flops onto a nearby chair. Kalim locks the window back and tiptoes to the bed, snuggling in beside you.

He doesn't know how long you slept, but it was long enough for people to look for him and realize he's not in his own bed. The door to your room bursts open, a chorus of squeaky 'Sanadi!'s pouring in with little feet. Kalim shrieks like he's being drowned in cold water when something much bigger jumps on the bed and it lurches your bodies, the tiny ones collapsing all over you with giggles. Crisp smacks echo in the room, Kalim tangled in the sheets and fighting for his life as his sister yells. You try to cover Kalim but the kids dive on you and press into you, seeking protection from the shoe's rage.

Kalim falls out of the sheets like he's just escaped a cocoon and can't use his legs. Blind with sleep, hair a mess, clothes wrinkled, he's piloted by the primordial fear of being a younger sibling at the mercy of an older one. He makes it around the door and down the hall.

You're allowed to dress yourself but the sisters insist on fussing and fawning over you, giving you this or taking away that before summoning bodyguards to escort you to...wherever they want, really.

It's hard for you to process that they can just do whatever they want at the drop of the hat. They don't have to panic crunch numbers or scour every possible inch of Ramshackle for a thaumark and you're stunned. You don't know why you are, but you are. The girls are sweet but they have no concept of reservations and they don't recognize their own entitlement--you think--because people are just as happy to cater to them as they are to ask.

You're taken to a very expensive, insanely exclusive spa that you've heard Vil mention before. No appointment needed, of course. Staff just seemed to materialize and rooms were just conveniently there. The girls are established here and the employees are familiar with their skin and favorites but you're a new face.

Your stomach clenches nervously and you wonder if they're judging you. Do they see a blank check or someone who looks out of place in the clothes you're wearing?

When they're given permission to charge the account but 'be reasonable' you wonder what reasonable is to an Al-Asim. You can't help the smile that cracks your lips when you think of Kalim and his many parades and parties. He thinks those are reasonable and they're quite extravagant.

'Reasonable' is a skin analysis and so many treatments--special steam, cleanser, toners, mask packs, funny lights, weird tools--in the comfiest bed-like table that you're not even sure you were awake for half of it. You're amazed by what you see in the mirror. You don't see someone who's fought overblots or eaten something questionable to keep from starving.

Dazed and ethereal, you're escorted to the next experience. You and the girls spend the day in the spa, this time in several soaking pools before finishing in a mud pack-body wrap combo. You're introduced to several native drinks and get some sort of special infusion. Whatever it is, the girls swear by it.

You're surprised Kalim recognizes you when you get back to the Al-Asim home. He sweeps you up and gives a surprised peep about how you smell and how soft you are. The embrace is short-lived because you're being dragged away to change for dinner. He makes up for lost time by sitting next to you and sneaking into your room again.

It's cute and a little harder than the night before. Some of his siblings stayed up to make sure he didn't just walk in. When you have that many siblings, you always have more than one plan. You and Kalim have to shush each other at times but you're happy to tell him about your day.

He's just as happy to listen. His heart relaxes when he realizes you had a mud bath and you're doing your best not to ugly cry because you feel clean and pampered and had a day where you didn't have to worry about anything.

That means everything came true and it's smooth sailing, right? Everything she said came true?

He kisses your tears away and lets the emotions dwindle into exhaustion, holding you close.

The rest of the week is a balance of playing with Kalim's siblings, finding fun things to do around the main house--or having them brought to the main house--and going out into public with a crazy amount of guards. The third day was a personal parade of animals not unlike a standard Scarabia party; Kalim and his siblings translated how to hold, care for, and feed them. You got to ride some of them!

You spent the fourth day taking in the local sights with Kalim, Jamil, and his sister. It was nice to get away from the splurging whirlwind of the Al-Asim girls and just be casual in the browsing. For all his wealth, Kalim blended seamlessly with the interesting hole-in-the-wall spots others seemed oblivious to. It was an interesting side of him.

Kalim promised the last day would be for you and him and he was keeping his word. You took off on carpet at first light, watching life trickle into the bazaar. He'd begged the kitchen staff for several baskets and you were enjoying a simple morning of people-watching and sharing food. When you were finished eating, he found someone who looked like they could use the rest of the food. Carpet tucked safely under his arm, Kalim took you to a shop you'd passed over yesterday.

"I want to get matching rings," he smiled.

Back in the world you came from, custom jewelry would take a week or more. In Twisted Wonderland you guessed magic made the process near-instantaneous. Or maybe they just had multiple hands on it since it was a request from an Al-Asim. You wouldn't be surprised if they had a file for the Al-Asims given how much jewelry they wore.

The ring was beautiful. It was a thin, elegant, curving design that looked like a blooming flower with a ruby in the middle. It reminded you of Kalim's eyes. Kalim's ring shared the curving, elegant design, but his flower hadn't bloomed; the petals were flush against the jewel and almost crown-like. He'd just paid when the door to the shop burst open.

Neither of you were surprised. You half-expected it to be Jamil. Or one of his siblings.

You were both wrong. Very wrong.

You had no idea who these people were or what they wanted. Had they been watching you since yesterday? Earlier in the week? They rushed you and you thanked the Seven that they didn't immediately draw their magi-pens. It gave you the time to sock one of them.

There was a brief moment of stillness when they saw his head snap back. Four strangers realized they didn't know you or what you were capable of. Before they realized you didn't have a magi-pen, you kicked one as hard as you could in the knee. He buckled, sinking enough for you to punch him hard in the stomach.

You felt one of Kalim's arms wrap around your middle, yanking you back to his chest. He thrust his magi-pen forward and you held your breath. Kalim was far more valuable without a scratch or burn.

And they assumed you were valuable to Kalim. They were right. Kalim was so focused on anticipating a spell, on getting his protections ready, that he didn't anticipate a physical attack. He started sliding across the shop floor when they got the idea to rip you away.

It took three of them but Kalim wasn't done yet. He wasn't beaten. They escape in an uncoordinated stumble and Kalim's hot on their heels, taking to the skies and firing off spells from carpet. They fire back but between trying to keep you from running and aiming up at a moving target, he has the advantage.

Until they run through the bazaar, of course. There's so many people now that he struggles to keep his eyes on you. He almost loses you once or twice but he can hear you yelling. You call his name and he'll always hear it.

Kalim's not surprised they managed to sneak out of the bazaar into somewhere semi-abandoned. The bazaar wasn't always a bazaar; it used to be a small community. Pockets of old homes remained. People sold them for ample compensation but vendors found them off the beaten path and not as lucrative so they sat, unused.

A spell caught him by surprise, carpet veering sharply and almost throwing him off. Kalim patted his little singed tassel, peeking over the fringe to fire off a spell of his own. Carpet wove through the air, doing his best to keep Kalim safe but let him see through broken windows and open entryways. His goal was to confuse them, have all the attention on him and give you time to escape.

Kalim saw you bolt out of the home and gave carpet a tug. You were halfway to carpet, kicking up sand, when the men charged out. The jewel in his pen was starting to darken but Kalim knew he wasn't at his limit. Something in him snapped; he saw red when those men dove atop you like rabid dogs.

"Respite in the scalding sands, a neverending party. Dance! Sing! Oasis Maker!"

The sky turned dark and ominous in an instant, a cool shadow stretching over the sand. The rumble echoed Kalim's brewing rage. With a hair-raising crack, the rain poured out in a fierce deluge. It was icy, heavy, and stung like a whip. Carpet sagged under the weight of the water; Kalim guided him down carefully, squinting against the downpour to find you.

Why weren't the firing off spells? Were their clothes too heavy? Did it hurt too much to move? Could they not see? Kalim's suspicions were high and he could only assume that any grass magic wasn't strong enough to cut the water and fire was pointless.

He took advantage of the situation and fired off a few smaller water spells. They were boosted by Oasis Maker. It almost felt wrong, knocking them around like toys, but he didn't care. Oasis Maker dwindled to a drizzle, then stopped, when he saw you trying to crawl through the mud.

He couldn't help but laugh as the fortune-teller's words finally made sense. It was weird to have his face half-numb from icy rain and still be able to feel his tears. It took effort, but he managed to pull you out of the mud with a wet squelch! The two of you sat, stunned and freezing, just looking at each other for a moment.

He wiped water and mud off of you. You immediately grabbed his pen and started checking his hands. "You feel okay? You're not going to overblot?!"

"I'm fine, sanadi. As long as you're fine, I'm fine." Kalim breathed, resting his lips against your forehead.

He composes himself and looked at how utterly stuck the men are in the mud. Some of them probably need to be observed for drowning; they probably inhaled enough water to feel like they were drowning. Serves them right, Kalim thinks as his nose turns up in a sneer. Carpet does as Kalim wishes, carrying him to the nearest guard to report the event.

Kalim picks mud out of your ring and cleans it with his drenched shirt as carpet takes you back to the main house. There's no way in hell anyone will let you bathe together but he can dream.

He can also dream that he won't get his ear pulled off. Kalim was surprised to feel his father's warm, firm hand on his ear after he stepped onto Al-Asim property. Usually it was his mother's. Hissing through his teeth, Kalim risks a look back to see you getting swarmed and dragged by his sisters and mother. There's multiple people shouting in a language you're beginning to understand but you don't need to know anything to know you're in trouble.

"Welcome to the family," Jamil mumbles under his breath as he takes instruction from Mrs. Al-Asim to fetch Kalim some dry clothes.

[all-with-angel]

Ho is u magic?

❥ Magical Girl!Satoru x Injured civillian!Reader

❥ Injury on reader, fem!reader, porn with sorta plot, oral(m!receving), p in v, creampie, mating press, hints of a breeding kink, overstimulation, lowk mean but also pathetic satoru, this is nasty

Masterlist || MDNI.

Gojo Satoru who was just another guy in highschool, maybe anti social and closed off. But then, one night, a stray shooting star landed in the middle of the schools field while he was sneaking around to meet with his plug (Suguru) or sumthin.

Now, instead of his cute, girly and typical magical girl-esque classmates finding it, he did. And from then on, he was pretty much a superhero to japan. (And it didn't stop there, multiple other magical girls popped up! Each one more manly and muscled up than the last! LOL)

Magical Girl!Satoru thought that if he saved the world once, the curse blessing of being a magical girl would go away. So he saved the world from villains, fueled by embarrassment and spite.

Then he did it again.

And again.

And again.

But now, he is literally in his late 20's and is still a goddamn magical girl. He's learned to accept it, just like the rest of the world when they were given these insanely overpowered magical girls saving the world everyday for almost 10 years now!

His kind of situation is kind of the norm nowadays, hero agencies popping up to regulate the pretty magical heroes and their fanmail and merch.

That brings us to today where...

You get caught up in a villain attack in the middle of your commute to your boring, mindless corporate job. Some sludge-y looking monster wreaking havoc and flipping cars while you struggled to get away.

As you try to get away, you notice a kid get stuck under rubble and pull them out after a bit of struggle, but at that point, luck wasn't exactly on your side. The monster had noticed you and shot out some kind of purple-colored beam at you.

That was moments before you were pushed back by the sheer force and into a wrecked car, brain already fuzzy from the pain and the weird beam.

When you blearily open your eyes, you see a group of Magical Girls taking down the monster. One of them notices you and flies down to you immediately, from the bright blue eyes and snow-white hair, you recognize him as your favorite Magical Girl, Satoru Gojo.

Magical Girl!Satoru is able to easily heal physical your injuries but noticed that you had been corrupted by the monsters super evil hypnosis beam! Oh no!

Worrying for your safety, he carries you into an evacuated apartment building and sets you down on one of the beds. He explained your situation and wanted to help you! And helping you just so happened to mean giving you two 'doses' of his purifying magical cum!

You were definitely not saying no to that NAH NAHHHH

Magical Girl!Satoru then guided you softly, lifting up his pretty pink skirt to reveal an equally pretty pink tip (which was already leaking because god knows the last time he was able to fuck) and gently tells you to suck it.

Trusting his words and not really wanting to risk the chance of becoming a part of that sludge monster, you put yourself to work despite your brain starting to go foggy. From sucking his stupidly long cock or from the corruption, you weren't sure.

Magical Girl!Satoru who let himself be just a bit meaner after seeing the glassy look in your eyes, cooing and mocking you for literally going stupid just from his cock alone. (yes, he knows its the effects of the corruption but he can't help but tease you)

He started using your head as a fleshlight- large hands in your hair, his voice condescending as he warned you not to choke on his dick too much, because he was already so close to giving you your first dose of his magical cum!

The second his warm load hit the back of your throat, you felt yourself snap a bit back to reality- Gagging as you swallowed his magical girl cum with obscene gulps.

Magical Girl!Satoru pulls you off with a groan, pupils blown out as he looks down at your spit-stained lips. You cough to the side and he pets your hair, telling you how well you did and that you're almost fully healed! Good job!!

With surprising ease, he flips you onto your back- Your vision blurring with how quickly he manhandled you into place. Magical Girl!Satoru coos at you, voice patronizing as he pulls your panties off and points out how soaked you already are.

Magical Girl!Satoru gives you some reassurance while giving your clit some loving pats- As if he were encouraging a dog. And if you thought your brain was clearing up, now you're damn sure it wasn't the second you felt him push his fat and pretty cock into you.

Tears prick at your eyes at the stretch, a mix of pain and pleasure as he kisses the tears away, telling you that it was only halfway in and that you could definitely take the rest of him like a big girl!! It was necessary to heal you after all!!

Eventually, he pushes his entire length into you, groaning at how warm and mushy your insides felt around him. He whines the second he bottoms out, complaining about how he wants to start moving already- before choking on his words pathetically when he felt you flutter around him.

Magical Girl!Satoru is pouting at you, begging you to let him start moving (so he can get rid of the corruption inside you, ofcourse!! You didn't forget about that, right?)

You nod weakly, brain already numbed by the 'corruption' and Magical Girl!Satoru's stupidly big cock inside of you. You would've loved to appreciate this sight more- if you could fully process anything other than feeling so so full- but Magical Girl!Satoru looked so pretty like this, hair slightly tousled and his usually pristine costume was loose around him, a little bit of grime from his previous fight with that sludge monster on his thigh highs.

Magical Girl!Satoru clicks his to tongue at your wordless approval, saying something about how he had to be quick lest the corruption melt your brain any further!! He grins as he starts moving in and out of you, the veins on his cock dragging deliciously on your walls.

You never thought that the famous Magical Girl would be a whiner, but he was just that. He couldn't help the sounds slipping from his lips as he tried his best to move at a somewhat reasonable pace :((( He was still being considerate of you adjusting to his size after all :(( You barely registered the cracking sound above you, the headboard getting crushed under Magical Girl!Satorus grip.

You could barely focus on anything else other than the feeling of his cock moving in and out of you- That warm coil in your tummy tighetening quickly despite the 'painfully slow' as Satoru would word it, pace that he was fucking you.

Magical Girl!Satoru bit his lip at how pretty you looked, gasping and shaking under him as he could practically feel you approaching your orgasm- He couldn't help it when his hand moved down to play with your clit as he sped up his pace, hips stuttering when he felt you pulse and flutter around him- effectively cumming around his length.

"Fuckfuckfuck-" Magical Girl!Satoru whined, barely in control of his own movements as he pounded into you faster, shockwaves of overstimulation moving up your spine and short circuiting your brain even more than the corruption could.

You unconsciously tried to crawl away, but it was no use when Magical Girl!Satoru grabbed your hips and pulled you down onto his cock over and over and over. Almost merciless as he was desperately apologizing and gasping your name. " 'm sorry, 'm sorry I c-cant stop fuck- 'm sorry,"

You couldn't do anything except moan and gasp under him, the overstimulation and mean pace pushing you further closer to the edge again.

Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse (or better), Magical Girl!Satoru grabbed your thighs and folded you into mean mating press, hitting your g-spot sooo good that you couldn't help but scream from how good it felt :((

"I know I know- 'm sorry, have to- have to make sure it takes," Magical Girl!Satoru reassured in between his own gasps. "To- ah, h-heal you ofcourse."

You couldn't help but whine at that, walls clenching around him as his hips stuttered and you could feel his warm, magical girl cum fill you up!! You could feel the throb of his cock with every pump of his release pouring into you, the obscene sounds of it echoing within the dimly lit room.

The pleasure was enough to make your mind go blank, and you were pretty sure you passed out for a few seconds.

With a final thrust, Magical Girl!Satoru let go of your legs and slumped on top of you- Sweat covered costume sticking onto your skin as his weight slowly grounded you to reality.

After a few moments of only labored breaths shared between the two of you, Magical Girl!Satoru finally spoke up. "Y-you're healed now!"

And yeah you were healed, but you were also pretty sure that your legs would be out of commission for at least a little while.

How this headcannon post lowkey turned into a full smut fic I don't know. All i know is that i was up at 3 am and horny 🙏

Want to read more prompts like this? Check this out!

[shima-draws]

YIPPEE it's Malachi's updated design!! Not much has changed he's just showing his shoulders now like a s l u t

Original post for him from last year is here! But just to make things easier I'll put all his character details under the cut on this post as well ✨

Name: Malachi (Codename: Valet, Nickname: Machi/Mal)

Age: 28

Hair color: Brown (with white streaks)

Eye color: Gold

Element: Fire

The yin to Rozen’s yang 😤 A lot of his story has already been shared on Rozen’s post so I’ll just be copying over most of that!

Malachi had a relatively normal life growing up with a family who loved him, but their lives were brought to a violent end when they were suddenly attacked by a group of rogues after their fortune. Soon after he was brought to the same orphanage Rozen was part of. Losing his parents was traumatic for Malachi; he retreated within himself and could really only express himself through anger and hatred in an attempt to deal with the loss.

Out of everyone in the orphanage Malachi butted heads with Rozen the most, finding his similar prickly personality and arrogance to be extremely irritating. Rozen viewed Malachi as a little brat and basically had the opinion of “boo hoo you’re an orphan well at least your parents loved you and didn’t throw you away like mine did”. (So, a biiiiit of jealousy there. LMAO) Malachi correctly called him out for being a total fake, knowing that his entire life was just an act. They were definitely at each other’s throats for a while!

All of this changed when Rozen got a bit too big for his britches and pissed off the wrong crowd. Surprisingly, Malachi rescued him from being beaten to absolute shit and Rozen was shocked that Malachi actually helped him. Even though he’d been through some hardships Malachi was still a kind person at heart, and couldn’t just leave Rozen to get hurt (even though he was really tempted to lol). Rozen started to soften up around him after this, and slowly started to drop his defenses and show his true personality. Despite Malachi finding Rozen’s change of heart “creepy”, and his sudden personality change kind of drastic, he couldn’t help but grow attached to him too. Before long they were practically attached at the hip, and if you saw one of them you’d know the other wasn’t too far behind.

At this point Rozen was fully himself instead of the persona/act he’d been putting on for all his life. AKA he essentially has the personality of a golden retriever, is kind of an airhead (or an idiot, according to Malachi), and is a total softie. Him finally showing his kinder side helped Malachi too, and eventually, after spending two years together, Malachi was crushing on him HARD lol. Of course, Rozen only really viewed Malachi as a best friend, especially due to their age difference (being 4 years apart, with Rozen being 17 at the time and Malachi being 13). Both of them had the opinion that the other had saved them, in a way. Malachi depended heavily on Rozen, who helped him through his trauma and helped him come to terms with his parents’ death. They both looked at each other and thought “there’s still good in the world after all” 😭

Throughout the two years they spent together, Malachi actually grew quite close with one of the local shop owners, a lovely girl who ran a bakery. She was endlessly kind to him and sparked a passion in him, which lead to him wanting to learn how to bake. Most evenings he’d find himself in her shop learning the ropes (with Rozen mooching off of his end results lol). Malachi mused that maybe one day he could use his skills to make his own pastries and get paid for it ;)

As time went on Rozen and Malachi became more and more determined to leave the orphanage together, either being adopted as a package deal or just leaving when they were finally of age. This came crashing down when a couple looking to adopt just Malachi showed up, and despite the pair’s attempts to sabotage any sort of chance Malachi would get adopted, the couple was insistent on taking him home. This sparked some suspicion in Rozen, wondering just why they were so intent on Malachi. He soon found out that these people were connected to the rogues that had killed Malachi’s parents–they were seeking the same fortune and knew that Malachi was the key to finding it. Rozen confronted them and convinced them to take him instead, as Malachi had told him he had no idea about his parents’ riches so he’d essentially be useless to the couple. Rozen offered his services and promised he would stop at nothing to find them the treasure, as long as they left Malachi alone. The couple agreed.

Malachi, of course, was devastated to find out about Rozen being adopted (and right before he’d become of age too), not wanting to be apart from him. Rozen explained his reasoning and revealed it was all part of his plan–he’d go away with the couple and then slip back to the orphanage in the middle of the night, where he and Malachi would run away together. With a promise to return, Rozen left with the couple, leaving Malachi behind to wait.

Malachi didn’t get the chance to wait, unfortunately, because suddenly the village was attacked, and the orphanage was set on fire. Desperate to get to Rozen, Malachi tried in vain to get out, but found himself trapped. He was burned badly by the fire, and right as he thought he was going to die, he suddenly awakened his elemental powers–the power of fire. Ironic that the thing to save him was the thing that hurt him in the first place. Using this gift, he was able to escape the building, and was rescued by none other than the baker girl he’d been training under. She rushed him off to the nearest recovery shelter, and after days of being unconscious, when he awoke she broke the news to him that Rozen was most likely dead. She explained that the couple who had adopted him were found slaughtered in a nearby manor, along with all of their associates, and that they were found out to be criminals. Malachi was absolutely heartbroken by the news and demanded more details about Rozen. The girl told him that Rozen’s body was not found, but it was unlikely that he escaped unscathed. This was enough for Malachi, who was certain that Rozen was out there alive somewhere. Maybe he’d come back to the orphanage and was waiting for him right now!

The baker girl took Malachi to the now destroyed orphanage in an attempt to find Rozen. However, Rozen wasn’t there. Malachi refused to give up and decided to wait for him. Days passed and with no further sign that Rozen would show the baker girl gently told him that maybe it was time for him to move on. Devastated, Malachi still remained stubborn and told her he would wait, despite knowing that it wasn’t likely Rozen would come back for him. But there HAD to be a reason, right? Maybe Rozen was in trouble. If he had been attacked that night, maybe he couldn’t make it back to the village. Maybe…

Malachi was placed under the baker girl’s care, and from there he began his search. Any sort of leads or sightings of Rozen was the treasure he sought after for the next 15 years, absolutely determined to find any clues to his whereabouts. Between his searching, he continued to hone his craft as a baker, along with learning how to use his magic. Eventually he was scouted by a sort of intelligence agency, who promised to help him in his search for Rozen in return for his services. Malachi leapt at the chance, knowing that this would open avenues previously off limits to him.

After years of essentially being an agent, and now a very skilled fighter, Malachi was given a new assignment–infiltrate an underground crime organization, a gambling ring, in order to get information so that they could eventually be dismantled. After being accepted into the organization under the codename “Valet” and meeting their leader, Roi, Malachi was shocked when he was introduced to one of Roi’s top members–a master of cards, a man by the codename of “Cavalier”. Malachi recognized him immediately. It was Rozen!! Finally, after years of searching he’d found the person he’d been looking for. Rozen didn’t seem to recognize him, but, well. Malachi couldn’t really blame him, he HAD changed a lot over the past decade or so. (It stung though, just a little bit.)

Malachi was immediately ready to blow his cover and abandon the mission in order to get Rozen out; this was part of the terms he’d set with the agency–if at any point he found Rozen, or if the agency found Rozen for him, he’d be able to leave of his own volition. However, the agency refused to let him blow his cover, saying the mission was too important, and that Rozen, working directly under Roi, was likely in grave danger. (To Malachi, this seemed like an even bigger reason to get Rozen out ASAP.)

After a lot of back and forth Malachi finally came to an agreement with his agency, but he was NOT happy about it. He had to spend the next several months undercover as Valet, tortured by the fact that Rozen was literally within reach but he couldn’t do shit about it. And to top it all off, he witnessed everything happening behind the scenes–how toxic Roi was, how he manipulated and threatened and abused Rozen, and Malachi was seconds away from attempting murder at any given time. All he can do is be as sympathetic as possible and try to butt into his business, urging him to break free from Roi and find a better path in life. Rozen isn’t too happy with someone intruding on his personal matters and lashes out at Malachi, causing a rift between them. Malachi only wants to help and doesn’t want to see Rozen suffer; Rozen knows better than anyone that there’s no escape from Roi and has resigned himself to his fate–and he doesn’t want to see Malachi get hurt either.

This is when Nahu and co. come in ;)

Nahu and co. are sent to infiltrate the gambling ring, and immediately things are thrown into absolute chaos. After many twists and turns (and plot), Nahu goes to face off against Roi in one final fight. Roi captures Rozen and chains him up, unwilling to let his perfect pawn go free, and poisons him so that he loses any strength to escape. While Nahu is absolutely wrecking shit fighting Roi, Malachi sneaks up to where Rozen is being held and attempts to set him free. Through the haze, Rozen witnesses “Valet” trying to free him, and sadly reminisces about Malachi. Rozen tells Malachi to let him go, to let him die–that way he can be with the only person he cares about again. Malachi yells at him and says no, he can’t die, because HE’S Malachi! Screw his cover, screw everything he’d been taught about keeping his identity secret, Malachi’s been suffering for MONTHS and he won’t let Rozen go now that he’s so close.

Nahu defeats Roi, and before Rozen succumbs to the poison, Malachi threatens him and says he’d better not die before he can kick his ass. Days later he finally wakes up to find Malachi beside him, and immediately bursts into tears. Malachi explains everything about his past, about what happened that night, about how and why he’d infiltrated the gambling ring, and about how desperate he’d been to reveal himself to Rozen. Malachi tells him that he hadn’t thought of anything else but finding him for the past 15 years, and now that he’d found Rozen he’d never leave his side again 🥺 Rozen feels the same way. They both realize they’re probably in trouble, with Malachi prepared to abandon his duty to be with Rozen and Rozen with his…complicated history being involved in an underground crime organization. LMAO

Luckily for them, Nahu is all about recruiting them, and they both agree to join his squad <3 Their new life together begins!! Rozen has to grapple with the fact that Malachi is definitely not the kid he used to know and has grown up, a lot. Malachi, meanwhile, has been in love with Rozen since he was 12 and is trying everything he can to properly express that. Rozen slowly comes to terms with the fact that yeah, he’s probably in love with Malachi, and things just get more interesting from there as they dance around each other for months just trying to figure it out ;)

[jackiestailor]

line without a hook (wasteland, baby! series)

chapter one: enter RIO and NATALIE, stage right.

masterlist

(divider from @dollywons !)

note: first chapter ! woooo ! ok this is only a prologue which explains why this is just 17k of a whole lotta yapping. i locked in last night and wrote like 4k+ words for like 4 hours just because i was tired of looking at this sitting in my docs taking up space

SOME POINT IN SPRING, 1996.

Nobody really liked Rio Marcini.

It was a universal fact. Very few people in the world—specifically small town New Jersey where most of the population consisted of uptown people and their trailer park counterparts who were often looked down upon with the suspicion that each and every one of them were up to no good—ever got along with Rio. It primarily circled around the stereotype that people (particularly white people, but they’d never ever own up to their oppressive thoughts and beliefs) made about Mexicans. Plays soccer; wears alternative clothing; foul mouth; mediocre grades. Some people even went far enough to assume she does drugs (‘some people’ referring to the ones who left their first interaction with her with a fat lip after boasting their stereotypes about her), but whether that’s true or not doesn’t play into the deeper part of her.

She hadn’t been in Wiskayok very long, moving further up north when she was 14 and was pushed into the 8th grade class in the middle of the year. Long before then, during her time in a sun-soaked Miami, it wasn’t as bad as people in New Jersey rumored it was. Maybe it wasn’t as ideal to them as it was to Rio, probably because everybody there either grew up with their whole lives on a silver platter or still had to work three jobs to pay rent. Skin color and clothing style was the first thing people noticed when she came to Wiskayok—because of course the most head-turning thing in the world is a brown skinned girl walking around the 8th grade building primarily surrounded by a bunch of white kids.

She didn’t care—that’s what it looked like to most of them, anyways. Further proving that ignoring the bully doesn’t solve anything and only gives them the impression that their actions don’t have consequences when their main target is a person of color.

A few people did end up liking her. A handful. It wasn’t enough. She’d always find herself wanting more until she’s satisfied with who she thinks people want her to be.

But this’ll do.

A girl—the first person to actually show kindness to her aside from her mom and occasionally her younger half brother who sometimes pops in whenever things in Montana (her father left just a few months before Rio and her mom moved up north to New Jersey, taking her unknown half brother with him) with her father were rocky for however long it would last—her name was Natalie. Nobody really liked her either, save for the few people she hangs out with after school and the varsity soccer team she got into to distract herself from her own home life.

Natalie wasn’t exactly the ideal Wiskayok high school girl, either. She was considered a ‘burnout’—skipped school sometimes (a habit which Rio actually picked up on), smoked, drank, all sorts of stuff. It was nothing less that was expected of people who lived in the trailer park on the other side of town. She didn’t show much emotion, though Rio could see that she cared when she looked between the lines when Natalie would show up to her house with a ceram wrapped peanut butter and jelly sandwich one morning in their freshman year (she claimed it was because the breakfast the school served in the cafeteria was shit, but Rio knew better than to buy into the shallow excuse to show her affection). Rio did admire her fierce loyalty—nobody ever messed with her without messing with Natalie (which sometimes led to the two of them getting into a mini argument over Rio claiming that she wasn’t a damsel in distress).

There were these few other boys who liked her. Two of them had some sort of homoerotic friendship going on that earned a bunch of head turns and questioning glares from the people around them whenever they talked a little too loudly. One of them was one of those boys who looked like they’d roll out of bed and throw on their cleanest shirt (most of the time it would be some sort of band t shirt) and basketball shorts and pull up to school riding a skateboard and half expect the senior girls to swoon over him instantly. At least, he looked like it, anyway. His hair was never neat—always messy with a black squirrel's nest sitting over his head with shitty eyeliner smudged over his eyelids with little splotches even getting into his eyes. He was one of those guys who trashed on people who listened to really popular bands and artists and swore to the gods above that he had the best music taste around (he couldn’t convince anybody that he was simply “branching out” when Natalie caught him listening to Sir Mix-A-Lot after he heard Rio listening to brown shuga on her walkman).

Despite all that stuff about him, his quirks and faults and flaws and annoyances, he wasn’t that bad. He was incredibly sweet, all things considered—in Rio’s sophomore year she only got a few things on Valentine’s Day (one of which was from the varsity soccer team captain Jackie—but whatever goes on between her and Rio is another can of worms) and he—Seth, the guy with the shitty hair and the guyliner and the ‘godly music taste’—gave her her first Valentine’s Day gift in all her time at Wiskayok. She recalled seeing an unnatural blush on his freckled cheeks as he handed her the rather fancy box of chocolates that was rumored to be shoplifted from the mall (whether or not that was true didn’t necessarily matter—it was the thought that counted), warm from being in his backpack the whole day and waiting 7 periods before he could hand it to her just a few minutes before soccer practice started.

The soccer team itself was actually quite entertaining for Rio. The teammates were nice—one of them instantly clicked with her once she joined the team. Back in Miami, the community soccer team she played for was mediocre at best and they believed that having fun was the most important part. Rio couldn’t have disagreed more—and apparently so did the Wiskayok soccer team. That didn’t mean she didn’t miss them.

The team goalie—Van—was the one that instantly clicked with Rio. Taissa often stuck with her and was always talking to her whenever practice was over or just before it started. Laura Lee was probably the sweetest girl Rio ever met; a Christian girl with absolutely no hate in her heart. That being said, Rio never ever missed an opportunity to tease her about ‘finally accepting Jesus into her heart’ only to reveal she was messing with her every single time. Shauna was one of the harder ones to bond with. She was one of those quiet girls with excellent grades and a few friends. Part of Rio thought she was only on the soccer team because she felt some sort of obligation to one of the other teammates—Jackie, to be precise. She was never caught staring at anything else for a long period of time other than Jackie.

Jackie herself was an easier one to get along with—not as easy as Van or Natalie or Laura Lee, but they had their moments together. She was an excellent team captain—albeit she definitely wasn’t the best player on the team, with Rio dominating all of them in terms of footwork and a few others being faster than her, she was definitely the most enthusiastic about the sport. In addition she was also one of the most caring people on the team—and that she ever met in general—after finding out that once Rio had gotten diagnosed with glaucoma and had a really bad habit of “forgetting” to do her eye drops (she hated them) that Jackie had somehow gotten her hands on the same exact tiny bottle and sometimes did them for her. On the rare days when Rio was feeling the effects of other people being their ignorant selves and dogging on her for fitting the stereotype that they saw her as, Jackie would be the one to tell Rio that ‘they can talk shit all they want about someone they don’t know, the more they do it the more stupid they’ll look when they come to realize that this heart of gold in your chest is something they could only dream of having.’

Moving on.

Lottie was nice. Rio didn’t know a whole lot about her aside from the fact her parents were fucking loaded. Maybe too loaded and it didn’t really make sense to Rio that the Matthews decided to live in this tiny town. A lot of the parties she’d been to were at her house—more of a mansion, really. Mari was what was called an acquired taste—Rio didn’t care for her all that much in the beginning and even thought she was a bit of a bitch. She couldn’t recall when it was, but at some point in time she got used to Mari’s shit and most of the things she said didn’t phase her. Misty was…definitely an equipment manager. Rio had only three one-on-one interactions with her before and she had nothing nice to say about any of them.

The rest of the teammates she didn’t pay much attention to—they either opted not to interact with Rio outside of practice or they were underclassmen (which Rio soon found she had a heavy disdain for once she was a sophomore). Altogether she barely considered her teammates as “friends” aside from Natalie and Van.

_________________________

The middle of February came around again—the entire month itself was always a mix of warm and freezing temperatures in Wiskayok. Some people had plans for Valentine’s Day that they made a month ahead (Jackie, for example). Seth danced around hinting who he would ask to be his Valentine (nobody was oblivious to the hints he thought were “sneaky” when the next thing he’d look at was Rio with the tenderest look in his eyes). Rio wasn’t dense—she knew Seth had some sort of thing going on for her, though it wasn’t very easy to believe at first considering that the only Valentine’s gifts she received were in elementary school in Miami back when it was mandatory for all the students to pass gifts out to the whole class. And then Seth started hanging around her more often: showing up to her locker (and sometimes getting there before Rio could and waiting for her there), buying tickets to whatever movie had come out that Rio had only expressed interest in for a few seconds (then faking an apology to his friends when they asked why they didn’t get any, saying “these were the only ones left, guys”), putting together cassette tapes of all sorts of genres and bands he thought she might be into. Seth often did other things for Rio, really dumb stuff like opening the door for her and taking an extra roundabout in the classroom so he could take her paper up to the teachers desk and turn it in for her so she wouldn’t have to.

Natalie sometimes teased Rio about it—for what reason she’d never understand, but she definitely knew that Natalie was secretly rooting for the both of them. Or maybe not—it’s hard for Rio to tell with Natalie (as well as anyone in general, but especially her), like when she’d poke fun at Rio for it when they’re hanging out with their dysfunctional friend circle or at soccer practice (and get everyone else in on her shenanigans in the process), but when it’s just the two of them she makes no effort to bring up how Seth always always took up whatever spot next to her. If their shoulders weren’t almost smushed together then it was him sitting right behind her with Rio between his legs and the front of his shirt almost brushing against her back. Jackie and a few other girls on the team thought Rio was dense when she said she didn’t think much of it and wasn’t reading into it at all.

As a result of all of that, it was an understatement to say Rio didn’t really appreciate the teasing and the shipping. The pressure she felt from Mari when she arrived at practice on some days when she asked her unofficial trademark question Rio was sure she’d heard more times than any other phrase in her life, “so how are things with Seth?” Completely platonic, is what she wants to say and possibly scream out to the whole team in hopes it’d give her some peace from their suggestive tones when they’d occasionally see her walking to practice with Seth glued to her side. She wonders if this is how rednecks feel when they say their infamous quote to voice their opinion on the lgbt community, ‘stop making everything gay,’ but then her thoughts are undermined when she remembers that’s about same-sex attraction and not boy-girl relationships.

Then she wonders how it’ll sound when she ultimately tells Seth that whatever they have is platonic when someone from around school takes it too far and assumes something extreme like sex (which unfortunately is looking to be inevitable, given that even the boys fucking baseball team is getting in on the teasing too, probably from Jackie’s doing, but Rio’s frustration towards any of them would be neither here nor there), only for Rio to find out Seth thought the same thing too and make a fool of herself for bringing it up.

But that instance didn’t sound very likely, anyway. Especially not when February went by in the blink of an eye and March rolled right around with a flurry of games coming up (including the one that following Saturday) and the very last thing that Rio needed to worry about became a fucking worry of hers.

It wasn’t the most romantic thing in the world, in Rio’s fair and inexperienced opinion. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be charmed by the rushed confession of Seth’s feelings for her just minutes before he was supposed to leave for a culinary exam he’d been scheduled to retake. She also wasn’t sure if she’d ever be charmed by him if it was something more intimate—maybe leaving a movie theater well into the night or sitting on the hood of his car at the park and eating sandwiches from Subway. Regardless of where or how it took place—in the middle of a busy atrium or with the chilly night air blowing through Rio’s hair—the sentiment would still be there. A sentiment she wasn’t clinging onto very tightly. She supposes Seth would still have been equally as nervous if he’d planned and orchestrated it ahead of time than if it was spontaneous like it was that day.

“I know this is extremely rushed and sprung on you—and onto me, too, cause technically I’m supposed to be in the cafeteria by now, but this isn’t really about me! Unless you think it’s not just you or me but it’s the both of us and this is just as nerve wracking and pressuring for you as it is for me—“

The incredibly slow and wordy build up wasn’t necessarily doing the trick for Rio. If it weren’t for the fact he was standing right in front of her (more specifically right in the way of her first period economics class) she would’ve been zoning out and looking at literally anything else aside from him. Maybe at the chipped wall painting that definitely was overdue for a new layer, maybe at her nails that suddenly became more interesting to inspect and mentally debate which color polish would look better than to look at the nervous wreck in front of her, maybe at her soccer captain strolling by with her usual strut and her quiet girl best friend beside her, or possibly at the dried gum that's been spat onto the floor some fifteen years ago.

Then came the inevitable million dollar question:

“—can I be your boyfriend?”

Seth, standing in all his loser glory, with his usual eyeliner smudged and heavily contrasting against his sickly pale skin and his absolute mess of haircut that Rio wasn’t sure even had a name, as well as his orange 2Pac shirt (whom she was sure he wasn’t even into) and his wildly unmatched khaki colored cargo shorts, looked at her with a nervous smile like this was the first time he’d ever talked to her. To anyone who didn’t know any better it might’ve looked just like it—Rio never had a more forced smile on her face than the one she brought up to her lips. At first she thought it was obvious it wasn’t very sincere, then over time it just melted and it became something like a flustered grin, because the more seconds that passed the bigger Seth’s nervous smile turned into a hopeful beam.

Rio was sure Seth knew she never had a boyfriend before—or ever even really done anything intimate, save for that one kiss she had back in Miami when she was at a 7th grade dance at the end of the school year. The closest thing to a kiss she’d ever done after that was hugs and sharing an icee with Natalie (and occasionally kissing her goodbye after games and parties—but that didn’t count). Rio was also sure Seth knew she didn’t necessarily understand the pressure that a ton of girls face when it comes to boys—like they’re expected to have a boyfriend as if it’s some universal rule you have to follow or else you aren’t really good for anything. She always wondered why it almost seemed like the concept of a heterosexual romance was being advertised at her every turn. She remembered a few weeks into her freshman year her mom asked her if she’d seen any “cute boys” yet. Her mother never stressed the concept of a straight relationship over Rio that much, but even when the amount of times the conversation happened was only a handful, she never failed to notice the undertone at the end of each and every one. Remember, Rio. It’s only natural to be attracted to men as a woman. Be with a man, why don’t you.

She never quite questioned it. Because god forbid Rio bring up the idea of her being into anything other than a traditional life with her male counterparts.

Nobody in the atrium was watching them, but the heat that crept up the back of Rio’s neck and seemingly attacked her face like a hot flash made her think that this was some sort of spotlight moment in a play where the only thing the audience could see was them, and the prying eyes felt like pointing fingers aimed towards Seth as if to tell her this is your destiny. She surely felt a fever was coming over her with how hot her face felt—her chest, as well. Her tank top felt like it was stuck to her, latching to her chest with the intent to squeeze and wring the air out of her lungs until she was a raisin. Her armpits were screaming at her to take her jacket off before they caught on fire, and she would’ve if she wouldn’t get dress coded by the deans lingering around. It wasn’t even that warm and fuzzy feeling that one of the girls from the soccer team described. It was sweltering, incredibly uncomfortable and it might as well set her whole heart on fire and burn uncomfortably in her chest the whole day.

Rio could see that Seth was visibly growing nervous the longer they both stood there in the middle of the hallway. Despite the bell having already rung and a few people sped past them because they were late for whatever reason, nobody stopped to look at them and question what the fuck they’re standing around for like they’re freshmen. When a hall monitor emerged from the doorway to the main hallway, Rio was pulled out of her train of thought and looked away from Seth.

“Uhh…” she began with no pre-orchestrated plan on what she would’ve said next. And she thanked whatever god was up there when the hall monitor practically sped his way over to the both of them, pushing his rather expensive looking pair of glasses up the bridge of his freckled nose and got ready to hiss for them to go to class so that she wouldn’t have to give Seth an answer (whatever answer that may be, she wasn’t necessarily sure yet but she wasn’t leaning towards the ‘yes’ side).

“Go to class!”

“Fuck off, Henry,” Seth frowned as he whipped his head around to look at the incoming hall monitor, watching him make no effort to stop power walking towards them seemingly with a notepad at the ready. For what reason he had such a portable thing on him, neither Rio nor Seth could ever find out, but they both assumed it wasn’t for any reason that would benefit either of them in any way, so instead of focusing on the more romantic aspect that Seth thought they had going on, they both opted to go their separate ways for the while and go to their given destinations before getting chastised by the helicopter hall monitor.

Rio was internally grateful that Seth decided to drop the initial topic and went away before she could be pestered any more than she already had been. She didn’t necessarily feel like listening to him explain to the hall monitor that instead of going to the cafeteria for the culinary exam retake he was spending the past five minutes standing there and asking out one of his only lady friends to be his girlfriend only for him to get nothing but a cheap smile and dead silence in return. Consider that his very late and very bland Valentine’s Day gift after having nothing to give him in return.

Although there came the embarrassing feeling of walking into class late and without a proper excuse as to why she was a whole three minutes late. She couldn’t think of anything to say when someone had opened the door for her as a result of all the pairs of eyes that suddenly became so interested in her tardiness, as if that’d become a universal entertainment for the whole school population.

Her economics teacher stood there at the chalkboard with her arms crossed and a small piece of chalk sitting between her fingers and with a raised eyebrow on her face. “Tardy pass?”

No, you moron, I just got here ten minutes ago and was immediately pestered by a guy who thinks I want him.

“No,” Rio drawled out quietly and almost shamefully, until she dared to look around the classroom and find none other than fucking Natalie Scatorccio sitting at the back in her usual spot with her usual smirk and her usual cocky glint in her eyes.

“Any valid reason as to why you’ve decided to express your tardiness?”

Rio hated that her economics teacher did this to everyone who was late, even if it was a measly three minutes. No, she obviously didn’t have a valid reason as to why she was tardy. It irritated her. And what was she supposed to say? The throes of romance got the best of her and rendered her a victim of Cupid’s unfortunate arrow? That she was being held up by a dude who wanted her to fit into the role of a “guy’s girlfriend”?

“No,” she grumbled out again, looking around again and letting her eyes land on Natalie, her face scrunching up slightly at the smirk that didn’t seem to want to leave. As much as it irked her she couldn’t really find it in her to be mad at her. Not just at that but in general—but she’d digress if someone were to ever ask why.

The teacher didn’t bother with publicly shaming Rio for being tardy. It was only eight in the morning, and frankly she hadn’t even taken attendance yet, much less started class. Though instead of showing her tiredness like a normal person would at eight in the morning she opted to be a bitch to her first period class, because everybody’s too groggy to pay attention to the way her eyes carry a tired glint to them despite having a bit of makeup on to cover her eye bags underneath.

Rio shuffled to the spot reserved for her in the back of class—not that assigned seats were a thing in this teacher’s class, since this kind of class was specifically for seniors, and she had just enough faith in said seniors that they could behave themselves with no seating arrangements that prohibited them from sitting next to their friends—Natalie’s shoe covered the seat next to her, with her leg stretched across the row and a shit eating smirk on her face.

“Nuh uh,” Natalie shook her head teasingly, her eyes staying on Rio as she stood there with an entirely unamused look. For the sake of not having the teacher get on her case again, Rio only kicked her leg away and took her rightful spot next to her best friend, tearing her impossibly heavy backpack off her shoulders and setting it on the floor next to her chair.

“You wanna tell me why you’re late?” Natalie prods, turning in her seat to face Rio. The teacher never bothered to pay any mind to the students in the back of her class who sat there for a reason—doing stuff and talking about stuff and doing anything and everything except paying attention to the class itself, which is why Natalie so casually turned to face Rio instead of facing forward.

“Don’t act like you have a leg to stand on,” Rio countered, turning her head to look at Natalie. “You fucking skipped classes before.”

“Yeah, but like,” She licks her lips as the gears turn in her head and she thinks of something else to say to defend her case. “That’s kind of expected of me. You’re kinda like a goodie two shoes, except you’re not that great.”

“Listen to the teapot calling the kettle black,” Rio lets out a chuckle meant to make fun of Natalie, furrowing her eyebrows with a grin that mirrors the cocky look on her face. “You aren’t up to people’s standards either, burnout.”

Around other people, like Seth or Laura Lee or Mari or the other handful of friends she has, it wasn’t very often that they saw Rio with a spunky attitude. Most of the time it was her acting the same way as them—mirroring their personalities and talking like them. Nobody ever really questioned that fact; verbally, anyways. A few of her friends wondered why she had such varying attitudes towards others at different times but they never actually asked her about it because they thought it was her way of being everybody’s friend. Natalie was no exception—whatever snarky and sarcastic thing she had to say, Rio had a quip ready on the tip of her tongue to keep Natalie on her toes. It was just like that between them and nobody else.

Maybe Natalie was into that. Probably not, but it was safe to assume for everybody that never spoke to her a day in their lives that she was into anything with the kind of reputation that surrounds her.

Natalie knows it’s all in good fun, when Rio calls her “burnout”. She doesn’t mean it like other people do when the word rolls off their tongue and seemingly lands in the mud puddle it was originally meant for. It doesn’t sound like a bitter taste on her tongue, it doesn’t sound like a punch to Natalie’s face. Instead it ignites a warmth in her chest that makes her feel a different way about the word. Like she shouldn’t give a damn what people judge her by calling her that, because as long as it carries a different connotation in Rio’s mouth, everybody else doesn’t matter.

“You’re avoiding the question, loser,” Natalie leaned her arm on her desk. “You’re late, dude.”

“No shit,” Rio snarked back, and a second later she ran her hand through her hair and let out an exasperated sigh. She knew Natalie wouldn’t stop being nosy about why Rio was late until she told her whatever it was she was hoping to hear. So instead she opted for a smartass remark.

“I was late cuz I was doing anal with your mom.”

“Interesting,” Natalie raised an eyebrow to accompany the now confident grin that’d taken shape on her face. “So do you want me to report the both of you before or after Regionals?”

“You know I’m only joking,” Rio reached a leg over to her left to lightly kick Natalie’s ankle. “It was something else. It was really weird.”

Natalie’s eyebrow stayed lifted. She didn’t look surprised at all and if anything she looked curious—which she undoubtedly was judging by the way she shifted in her seat to get comfortable. “Well don’t beat around the bush.”

Rio groaned. It was too late. Natalie was already invested in it, and Rio began wondering how long it would take for her to lose interest in it once she found out it was about Seth. Now she began to momentarily orchestrate how she’d say it without Natalie getting that pouty look on her face. Rio nibbled on her bottom lip; she knew that Seth was a rather unenjoyable topic for her (and frankly she felt the same despite being friends with him for so long), and she knew, even if Natalie didn’t say, that she only hung out with Seth because Rio did. And Rio only hung out with Seth because he was friends with one of Natalie’s other friends. Point being neither of them really had an opinion on him. That wasn’t a good thing.

“You’ll never believe it,” she started slowly; she still only had part of a plan orchestrated on how to say it without mentioning Seth. Her teeth let go of her bottom lip. “But, someone…”

“Someone…?” Natalie pressed, tilting her head forward. The sun shining through the window casted a glint over everyone in the room, though Rio wasn’t really paying attention to them. She was watching the way the light shone over the bleached blonde hair, as well as the light doing wonderful things for her jawline, and the warm look in her eyes (which needed no assistance from the sunlight) that she always got whenever she was looking at Rio. Reason being, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know; or maybe she did know and she never brought it up out of fear that it would change things between them. And obviously it would, but she didn’t want things to be complex. She wanted it to stay the same, to stay simple and easy and without question.

Moving on.

“Someone…asked me out,” Rio finally pushed the words out of her mouth like they were originally stubbornly tied into a knot on her tongue. She watched the warm glint in Natalie’s eyes fade. Her heart clenched slightly. It sounded weird anyways despite her half-baked efforts not to make it sound weird. Natalie almost looked disappointed if it weren’t for her attempt at covering it up with a snarky smile and a look of disbelief.

“So people do have low standards,” Natalie let out a dry chuckle, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. She crossed her legs next. “I almost feel bad for whoever it was.”

“Yeah, well, I could say the same thing about the guys who hit on you,” Rio rolled her eyes affectionately.

A pause. It’s only for a few seconds, but it was long enough for Rio to start thinking that what she said might’ve actually made Natalie upset before her train of thought was interrupted.

“Are you gonna tell me who it was or are you gonna make me guess?” Natalie quirked an eyebrow, her smirk solidifying into an almost genuine look. Maybe she manifested her own legitimate smile into existence. “Or is this shit all in your head.”

“Asshole,” Rio lightly kicked Natalie’s ankle again, earning a shove on her shoulder in return. “Why do you care who asked me out, anyways?”

“Why would I not give a shit? You’ve, like, never been asked out before,” the way Natalie said it so matter of factly nearly shoved it into Rio’s face that she could potentially have her first ever boyfriend today, in the instance she’d accept Seth’s confession with the open arms he was hoping for. Maybe the realization was there before and Rio was just avoiding it for whatever reason that pertained to wanting something else—someone else, though it seemed unlikely to Rio at that very moment.

“You’re so nosy,” Rio scoffed, shrinking away slightly and sitting properly in her chair as if to avoid the question by pretending to pay attention to whatever her teacher was saying. The way she shifted didn’t go unnoticed by Natalie’s watchful eyes.

“And you’re deflecting.”

“I don’t wanna fucking tell you,” Rio hissed, her eyebrows furrowed. Natalie narrowed her eyes at the sharpness in her voice; she could see the gears turning in her head and the process of eliminating going on in her mind’s eye. Where she got options she came up with, Rio would never know. But at some point between when she snapped and when Natalie finally clicked her tongue which signaled she had an idea of who it was, she came to the conclusion of who it was.

“It was Seth, wasn’t it?”

“It’s—“ Rio started, and she didn’t have a clue why. She couldn’t find a way to explain herself, much less figure out a way to make the whole thing not sound weird. The things she wanted to say were clogged up in her throat. The word vomit that tried making its way from her stomach just barely reached her mouth and left an unidentifiable taste on her tongue.

“I probably won’t even say yes,” she didn’t want Natalie to be upset if she did ever accept Seth. Like she already acknowledged many times before, both Natalie and Seth were indifferent towards each other. Why they were so weird around one another, that was between them and God.

“But you’re considering it,” Natalie retorted. It was only then that Rio noticed the smirk fell from her face.

“Kind of…” Rio started again. “But like, I don’t wanna turn him down and potentially ruin our friendship.”

“It’s not my place to tell you who you should and shouldn’t date,” Natalie held her hands up slightly in defense, signaling her surrender in an argument that never even started. Rio felt a familiar taste of disappointment replace the word vomit. “But if you say no and he doesn’t take it well, then that doesn’t sound like a dude you wanna keep around.”

“I know—you’re right,” Rio leans her elbow on her desk and rests a hand in her hair, frizzy from the humid March air she’d been trudging through just an hour ago to get to school just to avoid driving her car with no air conditioning. “I just don’t know if I like him or not.”

“Can you envision yourself kissing him?” Natalie quirked her eyebrow again in an attempt to give Rio the impression that she was already moving on and pretending there wasn’t any tension just half a second ago.

Fuck that. There was no way Rio could envision herself ever kissing Seth. He wasn’t ugly, but he wasn’t dashing, either. She never paid too much attention to his lips but she imagined they weren’t very soft if she had any leg to stand on in comparison to Natalie—then again those “goodbye kisses” from leaving parties and games didn’t count. Not to Rio, anyways, and Natalie never made a big deal out of the whole thing being so casual despite the fact she was literally kissing her best friend. She was more than sure Seth wouldn’t even come close to being on her level. And doing more than kissing? The thought made her physically recoil in her seat.

And so came the weak “Yeah.” A lie. A fat one, at that. Natalie knew. She saw the way Rio made a face just a few seconds after such a blasphemous question was imposed on her.

“You’re such a shit liar,” Natalie grinned, like she had any idea just how much Rio truly began to resent the thought of having to kiss Seth. “Why would you wanna date someone you can’t even picture yourself makin’ out with?”

“Kissing and making out isn’t all there is to a relationship, is there?” Rio asked rhetorically. On the contrary she agreed with Natalie, but at the same time a very small part of her was curious. There’s always room for more: more money, more opportunities, more knowledge. Which means room for growth. Could she grow to like kissing Seth even if she’d never done so? Could she grow to like the idea of being with a man despite all her inner monologues against her mother’s rhetoric and her own pondering about her sexuality to prove otherwise? The universe does work in mysterious ways, after all.

“Not really,” Natalie shrugged. Like she knew anything about a stable relationship. “But it’s pretty strange if you’re with someone and you don’t even kiss them.”

“I guess,” Rio mirrored Natalie and shrugged in return. “But there’s other ways to show your love for someone without having to like…” she trailed off. She didn’t know squat about relationships either, the only knowledge she had about them was from watching the occasional romcom from time to time if she ever decided it was worth her attention. “Y’know. Get intimate.”

Natalie argued. “He’s just gonna wind up cheating on you.”

“And how do you know?”

“Well, for one, he’s a teenage boy. Two, he’d be stuck in a relationship where his girlfriend doesn’t wanna fuckin’ kiss him. He might think you’re the one cheating on him from all the times we kiss each other goodbye from games and parties.”

“That doesn’t count!” Rio whisper-yelled, which in turn made Natalie raise her eyebrows suspiciously. While Rio never saw or heard her make a big deal out of that whole affair being casual in Rio’s eyes or ever confronted her about it, Natalie did wonder why Rio was so insistent on it just being completely platonic. What was so friendly about kissing your best friend on the mouth? It wasn’t only kissing, either. It was the less physically intimate parts about them. Like when they’d sit on the bleachers share an orange creme soda together on the occasion that they got to the soccer field early and waited for practice to start. Or when Rio’s driving and she reaches a red light and they randomly turn to each other and gaze into the other's eyes until their moment of longing is interrupted by a rude honk from the car behind them. Being caught watching the warm glint in your best friend’s eyes and wanting to swipe your thumb underneath her eyelid doesn’t exactly scream “just friends!”

“Whatever you say,” and so Natalie decided to drop it. She figured it was better to just let it play out the way God intended than to try and fight it knowing damn well Rio probably would end up accepting Seth’s confession that Natalie was mentally sure wasn’t even sweet and considerate anyways despite saying otherwise just a few minutes ago.

Rio couldn’t find the words to keep the whole conversation going. Curse her awkwardness. Thinking back now, if she wasn’t so awkward earlier when Seth approached her with an inconvenience about him to match her uncoordinated conversation skills, this whole thing wouldn’t be an issue. She would’ve actually had the balls to turn him down and not give a rats ass if it sent his ego balled up into a knot and rolling down a very bumpy hill towards frown town. Heaven forbid she actually engages in what she’s feeling like a normal person. Heaven forbid the cat doesn’t get her fucking tongue.

A personal grudge she holds against herself. A few, actually, and part of said grudges pertain to a bunch of other people too, so as not to make it look like plain self deprecation to anyone who asked. Her own inability to speak for what she wants (which in this case is to not be Seth’s girlfriend), she sort of blamed on her mother. All those undertones that meant to say get a fucking boyfriend already, Rosario rather than do you wanna invite your friends over for your birthday? assuming Rio would include her guy friends in the process. She never did, by the way. Her letting other people make their assumptions about her without saying a thing to them to prove that their stereotypes weren’t true. Well, scratch that. A few might be on point, like her playing soccer and wearing alternative clothing. A grudge she holds against a few of those popular girls Rio calls “Heathers” despite having differing names and all those baseball and football guys who date cheerleaders and all look and act the same: white, buff, brown or blond hair, tall, and fucking stupid.

Grudge number three: her dad cheating with another woman, which ultimately resulted in Rio and her mother moving up north away from Miami. As well as a little brother whom Rio had no idea even existed until one day in her freshman year when this boy showed up on her doorstep and explained to her that he was her brother. She wasn’t too pleased with it.

Quite a few grudges. No biggy.

The silence that dragged between Rio and Natalie made the rest of the class feel like time was purposely moving slowly so that the both of them had to sit in their own awkward atmosphere they built up when Rio decided to announce that someone had their eyes on her as some sort of punishment for being too much of a pussy and not doing anything about the tension that started growing between them in their sophomore year.

Yes, tension. Between Natalie and Rio. Not bad tension, per say, but it did make things a little weird for them. For a time Rio wasn’t used to seeing Natalie in a light that brought a heat to her face—and no it was not from “the sun” despite all the times Rio would argue that it was whenever one of her annoying teammates would ask about it.

“I think she’s got the hots for Nat…” Van would whisper to Taissa.

Such a shocking thing to discover when they’ve been kissing each other on the mouth since tenth grade.

And the bell finally rang, much to Rio’s dismay that it didn’t ring about 30 minutes earlier. It certainly would’ve saved her the urge to rip her hair out simmering inside her. She was pissed off, and she couldn’t put a finger on the reason why. Not at Natalie, who seemed to be mildly irritated with her in turn, though neither of them made a point to talk about it because it would eventually fade away by the end of the day when practice started from the natural waves of the school day that washed over them whenever they saw each other again. If anything, Rio thought it was safe to assume that her anger was pointed at Seth, even though in reality he hadn’t really done anything wrong and he was only expressing the feelings for Rio that strummed evenly in his bloodstream like guitar strings playing a soft tune. She didn’t like that. Not really, anyways. She didn’t like the thought of being his girlfriend, of actively touching her lips to his and cuddling up with him and spending time with him in that way.

She was confused about herself, yes, but she wasn’t stupid. She could tell between what she wanted in general and what she didn’t want with certain people. She could tell that whatever Seth had going on for her, she clearly didn’t have it going on for him. And she didn’t think she’d ever have it going for any other dude that was bound to make their move on her in the foreseeable future she was supposed to make it to.

Then again, she was only a teenage girl. All sorts of things change in a teenage girl’s mind.

_________________________

LATER THAT DAY.

Natalie wasn’t too pleased with Seth. A mini grudge birthed itself in the back of her head to which she made no effort to keep back there. No effort to hide it, no effort to make it known to Seth that she didn’t feel anything else for him other than resentment.

Rio’s considering it.

Actually considering being Seth’s girlfriend, as far as she knew. Which in Natalie’s defense wasn’t a lot, given that their whole conversation earlier that morning wasn’t to show that they were champions at communicating with each other.

Defense fucking failed. Seth knew right off the bat that Natalie was pissed with him for the day. No need for assistance from one of her other bonehead friends to poke and prod at the wrong buttons today. Seth’s big fat Cupid’s arrow shaped thumb poked at the big red button at the center of Natalie’s chest, right above her heart, with Rio’s name on it and sounded off just about every alarm in her head that nearly sent steam blowing from her ears.

Fucking cool it, Nat. You’re being a weirdo. She’d tell herself after she noticed the look Seth gave her like she had grown an additional head after she’d barked a little too loudly that she was “fine” when she’d shown up to her English class looking a little too not fine.

This must be how Shauna feels, was what ran through her head for the rest of the day. And if Natalie knew anything from catching glimpses from the all-too obvious yearning in Shauna’s eyes when they lingered on Jackie, she was not gonna let herself go down that miserable Shauna Shipman path.

Not that she hadn’t been subconsciously going down a much similar path the whole time. Maybe a sister path, without a knockoff Jeff for the time being up until that day. It seemed that the whole week before spring break was a curse for Rio and Natalie. Like life had it out for them any time it saw them getting closer and closer until they were a hair’s touch from being satisfied with life as it was.

Practice had been waiting for Natalie with a shit eating grin on its face. Just like it always was, with the usual hour and a half of running laps around the soccer field for 10 minutes as a warm up that, more often than not, left a few beads of sweat sliding down her temples. Only for her to find out that her best friend had decided to fucking skip. Then it was accompanied with the whole team discussing what they were going to do for spring break instead of actually practicing despite Jackie’s speeches and lighthearted demands to do so (hypocrisy’s sassy head reared in in the form of Jackie standing over a few teammates crouched down on the grass with a hand on her hip and talking instead of kicking balls around). Natalie wasn’t too excited for spring break, and, to her halfhearted surprise, nobody else was, either. She would usually hear something interesting about whatever Rio was gonna do for the break, but to Natalie’s dismay resulting in her raising a lovely middle finger to the sky on her sweltering odyssey home after declaring life had pulled Rio from practice to spite her wanting to see her again, there was nothing to fucking hear.

Of course, that wasn’t all. Just like people do when either Jackie or Shauna weren’t there (which was an extremely rare sighting), the team asked “Where’s the rest of you?” referring to Rio’s empty spot at her locker next to Natalie. She was half tempted to come up with some bullshit lie. Another half of her was tempted to very angrily tell them a short and brief story that someone was trying to take away her only chance at happiness. Then she decided both ideas were dumb as shit and went with the blatant obvious she’s not here.

Yeah, no shit, Natalie. No other reason for you to walk around with a storm cloud over your head.

Practices without Rio were surprisingly boring, in Natalie’s opinion, which in this case wasn’t very credible. Surprisingly, because it wasn’t too often that Rio skipped practice and usually it was for something serious. They were boring because there wasn’t anyone around to get on Jackie’s nerves or condescendingly talk shit with Mari and let Natalie eavesdrop on it because Rio knew she’d only pester her about it later despite Natalie’s mild disinterest in gossip, so she’d listen anyway. Nobody was around to walk home with Natalie even when she didn’t want to go home—just about anywhere sounded better than her shitty trailer littered with cigarette butts and beer cans and her mom who didn’t give a rat's ass about her.

The next few hours dragged on like nails against a chalkboard. The humid, sweltering heat seemed to melt time into wax and make it move slower than usual, and normally Natalie wouldn’t mind it. She wasn’t too fond of the teasing from Van, who seemed to be one of the first to see right through Natalie’s grit teeth and the straight face she wore the entirety of warming up (running laps around the field).

“What’s with the storm cloud over your head?” Van asked once she’d finally sat down on the grass, taking a spot next to Natalie instead of her usual place next to Taissa during the second half of warming up: stretching until their muscles felt like rubber.

Natalie doesn’t ponder her answer which came out in her usual monotonous voice. “Just had a shitty day,” not necessarily a lie. Her day was only mildly ruined when she learned that Seth had decided to test his luck in his dating pool with an ambiguous answer in return. It wasn’t as bad as she made it out to be, though if Van knew the extent of the underlying issue behind why the day was so “shitty” then she’d never hear the end of it. “Typical Wednesday.”

“I hear ya,” Van made a face to show to Natalie that she agreed, and that she’d drop asking her why she was so grumpy through teasing comments. It only lasted a few seconds before she smirked. “Y’sure it ain’t got anything to do with a certain Rio-shaped gap next to you?”

“Absolutely, cuz my entire life revolves around Rio showing up to practice.” Natalie extended her legs all the way out in front of her before leaning over, stretching her arms out to touch the tips of her cleats with her fingers. She purses her lips to keep a satisfied groan from escaping the back of her throat.

Van scoffed. “Might as well,” she pulled her legs into a butterfly stretch, setting her hands on her knees and leaning forward slightly. “With the way you’re acting like a piss baby.”

“Piss baby,” Natalie grumbled under her breath with a shake of her head, pulling herself back up and running her hands up her legs before making a stop at her hips. “That’s a little dramatic.”

“Hey, man,” Van sat up straight and raised her hands slightly. “You’re the one who’s grumpy here.”

A beat. A long one, long enough for Natalie to think Van already moved on from pestering her about the real reason she’s so moody.

And once again Van proved her wrong.

“Maybe she’s just late.” Came her lame attempt at making Natalie not look like she just ate a lemon. She turned her head to get a clear look at Van, still looking like she ate a lemon.

“It’s been twenty fucking minutes, Van. She’s not coming.”

“Chillax, holy moly,” the way Van, even if it was playful and lighthearted, acted like Natalie had said something completely out of line (which, okay, maybe the aggressiveness wasn’t necessary, but it was completely justified!) made her frown deepen. She forced her eyebrows to relax and got herself to pull out her resting bitch face almost immediately.

“Worst case scenario, she’s runnin’ off making lean and probably doing lines off some aliens ass crack somewhere.”

Natalie’s eyebrows furrowed in a natural response to Van’s attempt at bringing her spirits up before she even had time to process the sheer absurdity of it. Her head whipped back around to look at Van with the scowl that’d curated on its own.

“Is that your own version of comfort?” Because anything short of what Van just said could be closer to comfort and reassurance than that.

“I’m just saying, dude. At least she probably isn’t doing that.”

Natalie shook her head. It’s more humorous than comforting, probably the closest thing to amusement she’s had other than pretending to find comedy in the mental picking apart of the sentence Someone asked me out in her head, only to find none but laugh it off anyways because laughter was always the best medicine when your heart is actively sinking into a pit in your stomach.

Stupid heartache, man.

“Doin’ lines without me,” Natalie tuts, pulling herself up from her spot next to Van and popping her neck in a way that left a sharp pain in the left side of her nape. Just another thing to be pissed about. “Nah. She wouldn’t do something so exhilarating as that without me.”

Van follows suit after her, pulling her goalie gloves out of her pocket and pulling them over her fingers. “Worst case scenario, you wind up asking Shauna where the hell your girlfriend is. Don’t they got last period together?”

“My girlfriend?” Natalie squinted her eyes incredulously as she glared at Van.

“Oh, that’s what you ask about,” Van gave her a look. “You’re so bad at hiding it.”

“There’s nothing to hide,” in the history of bad lies ever told, that was the worst of them. Natalie couldn’t have made it more obvious than if someone stuck a hat over her head with a sign that said I’m in love with Rio Marcini! And it is actively ruining my life!

“Right, right,” Van gave Natalie a brief nod and looked off to the side as she smirked. “So does she have a date to prom yet?”

“Fuck if I know,” Natalie set her hands on her hips as the look on her face changed from irritation to exasperation. Fuckin’ Seth Mitchell, probably. The poorly familiar taste of jealousy settled in her mouth as the thought of Rio showing up to prom with the skunk-raccoon breed looking guy hanging off her arm. She figured she’d have to douse out the jealousy in her tastebuds with a bit of vodka from her mom’s fridge.

“Why do you care, anyways? It’s not like my best friend’s date to prom is any of your business.”

“How do you, like, not know if she has one? Every best friend knows their best friend’s date to prom?”

Practice without Rio on a measly Wednesday before spring break was nothing short of annoying.

_________________________

A BIT LATER THAN THAT.

It wasn’t serious at all, unbeknownst to Natalie who’d made the assumption that Rio skipped practice for something serious, unbeknownst to Rio that an assumption was even made.

Natalie didn’t get very much out of asking Shauna if she knew what was up with Rio; all she got out of Shauna after asking, very roughly, you know where that asshole went? was a measly explanation that Rio’s mom had come up to pull her out for the rest of the school day. Natalie couldn’t say it irked her; she would’ve given up her right arm if she didn’t have to go to her 7th period English class with Seth and the other boneheads to her right and bitchy, cunty, stereotypical popular girls to her left that liked to bother her like it was a hobby.

Lucky for Rio, who didn’t even have 7th period English class, it wasn’t anything extreme like Natalie had presumed. If anyone asked, it would’ve been hard for Rio to explain, but occasionally when her mother felt like being nice, she’d do stuff for Rio that she didn’t typically do. For some people it might’ve been the bare minimum, but her mother didn’t want Rio to waste her energy on practice that day and instead spend the rest of her afternoon “sprucing up,” as her mother said when Rio got in the car when the question was lingering on the tip of her tongue.

Sprucing up for what, exactly, Rio had no idea. Part of her thought her mom had super hearing or some sort of telepathic powers that extended all the way to her school and could read her mind pondering on the million dollar question imposed on her that morning, and that was why her mother wanted her to spruce up. What her mother had in mind was getting Rio’s nails painted in the color of her choice (which, upon choosing black, made her mother’s nose crinkle for a half second before putting on a supportive grin in an attempt to silently tell her that whatever made Rio happy, she was happy), getting her hair trimmed, to which Rio was actually grateful for as she’d made plans a while ago to get her hair fixed up before States, then taking a trip to some restaurant Rio had never even heard of and getting take out.

Only for them to run into her little brother hanging around the counter talking to the dude standing behind the register.

Hugo, her little brother, with short and still somehow messy black hair, one of the thousands of plain black shirts he owned, jeans that looked like they’d been through hell and back and dragged to absolute filth, converse that looked like they experienced the same kind of evil, and a singular silver nose piercing that somehow made him stand out from all the other alternative boys at her school. His other saving grace was the glasses on his face and the fact his skin was just a tiny bit darker than hers and a voice so distinct it was easy for Rio to clock even if they were in a crowded room. He had the same slouch to his posture, which was given the way his arms were crossed over the white counter he was perched in front of on his feet with a toothy grin that, in some other peoples minds (probably Seth or Kevyn Tan from 3rd period ASL), seemed outwardly friendly. Rio knew better. Hugo was grinning stupidly wide at the cashier and had a twinkle in his eyes that told her it wasn’t a smile that said he wanted to be friends.

Rio and her mother stood there in awe as they watched Hugo casually stand there talking to a cashier he’d never met in his life before that day as if he hadn’t traveled all the way across the country from the west. At first they didn’t actually think it was him, and then he let out a hearty laugh in that annoying voice of his that pulled them back to reality and made them realize that, yes, Hugo was there once again.

It ended with Rio opting to hop in the back of her mom’s car instead of staying up front where her bag was so she could talk to Hugo on the ride home, while he ate all the fries and left the three of them only the mediocre, ridiculously greasy burgers and the nuggets that came with his.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Rio whispered, squinting her eyes before raising her hand when the car turned at an angle where the sun shone right into her eyes and nearly frying her retinas in the process. Hugo handed her a fry.

“Shit hit the fan in Montana again,” he whispered back as quietly as his pubescent voice would let him. He pulled a fry out from the bag before he looked back down and realized he had the last one. He turned back to Rio and ate it right in front of her.

She only scoffed. That was the same thing Hugo said every time he popped into Wiskayok. “Is that what you’re gonna say every time dad gets even slightly involved with the cops?”

“Better safe than sorry!” Hugo reached over and swatted Rio’s arm with his hand before he went back to holding the paper bag like it was his baby. A moment of silence lingered between them and Rio’s mother, who’d been eavesdropping on what they were talking about even when she made it seem like she was focusing on driving. Rio figured out the signals a while ago when she noticed her eyebrows would raise every time one of them said something shocking.

“I got a game on Saturday,” Rio whispered again. Hugo turned his head as if to ask if Rio still played soccer like he’d forgotten over the time he’d been back in Montana. “You wanna come see?”

“And watch y’all lose? Why not? It’ll give me something to clown on you for.”

“Ass,” Rio swatted Hugo’s arm again, biting back the smile that had attempted to make its way onto her face. “We’ve been undefeated all season. And we got States coming up soon in May, so if you think you’ll be stickin’ around long enough you can watch us make it to Nationals.”

“I heard about y’all playing our team a few weeks ago,” Hugo reached his arm around to scratch the back of his head. An invisible lightbulb went off over it, and a shit-eating grin took form on his already annoying face.

“You still friends with that Natalie girl?”

Rio’s face fell for a moment when Natalie’s name tumbled from Hugo’s mouth. The image of that detached look on her face flashed in the back of her mind, then she remembered she hadn’t said anything to her mother or to Hugo about Seth. She cringed internally, though it quickly went away when the thought crossed her mind that if they won the game coming up on Saturday, then Rio would be get to enjoy the temporary escape from her reality when her and Natalie inevitably shared another “goodbye kiss” that shouldn’t have sent a shiver down her spine and a hotter flush to her cheeks as many times as it did.

“Why are you suddenly so interested in my friendship with Nat?”

Hugo simply shrugged like he knew nothing of the real intentions he had behind asking. “Dunno. Just thought I’d ask if y’all are still platonic after all the things you said about her over the phone.”

Rio felt a wave of panic rush through her as her blood went cold.

She slapped her hand over Hugo’s mouth to keep him from saying a little too much while her mother was still around to hear it.

“Shut up,” she took her hand off of Hugo’s mouth, and he raised his eyebrows slightly. A look flashed across his face, a knowing look, one that told him that he was getting somewhere when he asked if Rio and Natalie were still platonic.

The rest of the ride back to Rio’s house was primarily quiet. Hugo once complimented Rio on her hair, though it hadn’t changed much since the last time he’d seen her; it was a bit messier and frizzier than it normally was, but spring weather had its conditions. In exchange for nice breezes (and only nice breezes), humidity filled the air and allergy season came in return. Occasionally, Rio’s mother would look in the rearview mirror and send a glance at Rio, something she’d started to do ever since Hugo opened his mouth and dared to suggest that Natalie and Rio were anything more than friends. Rio would’ve liked to think she didn’t care and that she was aware it wasn’t really any of her business, but the look in her mother’s eyes wasn’t exactly warm and welcoming, even if there was the slightest chance that what Hugo said was completely false. It disappointed her, and it only served to egg her on even further to wander away from Natalie.

The neighborhood which Rio and her mother lived in (plus, temporarily, Hugo thanks to his inviting himself in) was within walking distance to the trailer park Natalie and Van lived in. Rio could’ve gone out to her backyard and climbed up the fence and she probably would’ve seen the trailer park from there, if it weren’t for the overgrown grass and bushes that Rio nor her mother never bothered to clean up. Their house itself wasn’t quite the dump it would seem to be, given that they were so close to the lowest of the low one can get in Wiskayok. A medium brown covered the exterior that extended to the size that a normal house would’ve been, with a few windows on the front left side and one on the right with the door painted a darker brown in between them. The garage stuck out from the doorway, going past half of the walkway which led to the porch guarded by a veranda painted in the same shade as the exterior and extended to the side of the house. The roof was just plain black shingles that absorbed way too much sunlight; one of them had practically dangled on the left edge of the front near the garage and seemingly had been waiting for some divine force of wind to finally knock it out of place.

On the right side of the house was Rio’s room. It was only slightly bigger than her mother’s room, but the difference was so small that her mother couldn’t even tell and she’d been happy as a clam to see hers. The inside hadn’t started out very special; over the last few years they’d been there it was obvious Natalie had a bit of an effect on the way it was styled. In Rio’s freshman year her room only consisted of her bed, her desk, her drawer, her closet and a few posters here and there that she’d collected before she left Miami. In comparison to that, by the start of her senior year, fairy lights hung around the crevices of her ceiling and all around her room with a substantial amount of posters her and Natalie had been hunting for (in an effort to make Rio’s room have more personality, since the first time Natalie came over she’d pointed out that “the walls look a little bald.”) and trinkets were hung and held up by thumb tacks and pins. A nightstand was moved in next to Rio’s bed, where it’d been filled with all sorts of stuff: the top drawer with her numerous pairs of sunglasses, as she liked how convenient it went with her hair and her style, a few old cassette tapes she kept for the sake of nostalgia, and a few things of hair ties Rio made no use of in the two years since Jackie had given them to her from having a few too many to fit in her own drawer and had been towering up on her bathroom sink; the middle drawer keeping her polaroid camera that Lottie had given her for her birthday during the summer between sophomore and junior year (to which she’d put to use quite often), the rest of the drawer having been filled top to bottom with tons of polaroids of random things (most of them were of her and Natalie, which she’d never ever throw away no matter how much space they took up); the bottom drawer held a few of her notebooks she’d used to the very last page to write all sorts of things in. Most of the time she’d written something that involved whatever she had to complain about (which is one of the things she did best) or paragraph after paragraph about her own self reflection and a few attempts to psychoanalyze herself. The attempts were, more often than not, futile, but a few exceptions were made by the universe whenever Rio had been staying up at an hour which would earn an earful and a snatch of her walkman from her mother, and her lamp had been lit up just enough that she could see what she was writing and surprised herself in the morning when she’d woken up to find her open notebook containing things she’d concluded about herself in the dead of night when she was alone and had nothing to show for her enjoyment of life. Other times they’d been about whatever shenanigan she’d been up to with Natalie for the day or simply stuff about her best friend that she occasionally flipped to the pages of when she was feeling bored and caught herself smiling at the mere sight of her name written in the lead of her own mechanical pencil.

The left side of the house was where her mother slept in her slightly smaller room that she was oh so delighted about. Her mother took it upon herself to buy a bunch of paint during the early months of living there and painted her walls a rose-gold color to make herself feel more at home. A giant dream catcher was hung on the wall right above her bed, because that was the sort of thing Yesenia Marcini believed in. Her room wasn’t much special, just the typical things a mother would usually keep in there. Her mother specifically restricted Hugo from ever even going in there as a byproduct of the heavy distaste for his father still left simmering inside her. She tolerated him nonetheless, only because Rio loved him as her half brother. Hugo sometimes slept on the couch, that way he had the whole living room to himself at night while the other two left him alone. Other times he stayed in Rio’s room despite her demands for him to go away and slept on the floor after Rio caved in and gave him one of her pillows and an old blanket.

In between that was, ideally, a bathroom down the hall from their rooms on the left side, and a laundry room which also gave way to the back door. At the front of the house was the kitchen and living room, with typical kitchen and living room necessities. In one of the drawers in the kitchen was a specific set of silverware separated from the rest of the forks and knives and spoons. One of each set aside for Natalie, which went to prove she practically had her own place to stay there whenever she didn’t want to go home (which was more often than what was considered normal).

Upon arriving home, which took a little bit longer than Rio would’ve liked, considering that the air inside the car felt just a tiny bit suffocating for the second half of the ride, they’d been greeted with their back gate being propped open despite the fact none of them had even touched in the span of the past several weeks. The murky brown, rickety, wooden gate was swung open just a little bit, but it was enough to suggest that it was wide enough for someone to easily slip through. Rio had half a brain to turn to Hugo and raised an eyebrow at him to silently question him, only for her to have received a confused look in return. The suspicion sat uneasy in Rio’s stomach, and she felt that her need for food had vanished bit by bit as she was the first one to get out of her mother’s car to go and check out what it might’ve been. A stupid idea, she realized when it dawned on her that she wasn’t armed in any way and that she could’ve been walking into a fight with some dude with a gun or a knife at the very least. She was careful to look for footprints and shoe prints that weren’t hers, and when she found none, she assumed that the wind had somehow knocked the gate open. But then she looked at the lock and saw that for the gate to be opened that far, someone must’ve purposefully pulled the lever down and pushed the gate open.

Nothing was back there, Rio found out after she’d tiptoed around the yard and tested if the backdoor was unlocked. It wasn’t, but of course that did nothing to ease the anxiety that’d worked its way up her neck and squeezed around her throat like barbed wire. She earned herself an earful from her mother after that, the words having gone in one ear and out the other when she’d droned on abou how “that was a stupid idea” and “are you stupid? You could’ve gotten hurt, child!” Rio did find that her mother liked to use the word “stupid” a lot in those few minutes she’d spent yelling at her instead of letting it go and opting to eat in peace.

Rio and Hugo ate in her room. Despite Rio’s protests for Hugo to go somewhere else (even when she knew he would’ve had to face the consequences of her mother glaring daggers at him from time to time), he stayed in there anyway. He claimed that her demanding he leave her room only served to egg him on and stay there out of spite. He also told her that she didn’t have much of a choice anyways and that he’d make himself comfortable on the floor at some point that night. Another way to ruin her fun, in Rio’s mind, but she let it go nonetheless.

After they ate, Rio procrastinated on her homework instead of doing it right away like she usually did. Hugo was a massive distraction to her, one of many in her life. They talked and bickered and made jokes instead of leaving each other alone so Rio could focus and Hugo do…whatever it was that he could’ve done with little resources to entertain himself. The hours passed and before the two of them knew it, Hugo had first yawned like a child and gave Rio a sleepy-eyed look that told her he was beyond ready to sleep. She couldn’t blame him. He’d probably spent all day getting from point A to point Z just to wind up in Wiskayok from Montana with her mother, then had to sit around town and talk to people he didn’t know.

The dead of night came. Hugo was barely awake on the floor; he claimed that the roughness of the carpet was irritating him, and Rio did sympathize with him, but she wasn’t about to give up her spot on her bed just because her 15 year old brother couldn’t handle sleeping on some carpet.

Rio, on the other hand, was wide awake. Her mind wracked with the anxiety that came from having taken a peak in her backyard earlier and even went as far as to search her house for anything that was out of the ordinary to her. She found nothing after she’d even looked in the cabinets in case the hypothetical burglar was a dwarf and in the fridge in the event that they happened to like the cold. Earlier, Hugo had to bully the anxiety out of Rio and told her that she was being stupid for being worried about it even after it was confirmed that no one had broken in. It wasn’t quite shaken out of her head, but she pretended anyway just to get Hugo to shut up.

She glanced over at the clock on her nightstand next to her bed. 12:03 AM. Her body was practically glued to the bed. If Hugo had gotten up his gaze would’ve been able to cut through the darkness and see the evident uneasy look on her face. Her heart beat so loud in her ears she was sure it’d brought him back from nearly being unconscious. A part of her envied him for being able to be so carefree on the floor in the middle of the night. A fear lingered in the back of her mind that someone or something was hiding under her bed, waiting for her to make the wrong move so it could come up from the edges of her bedframe and snatch her, and eat her whole. The image of something dark and ugly and shadowy and deformed coming up from right underneath her played over and over in her mind’s eye, and it sent an absurdly unpleasant shiver down her spine. She was stuck. She was frozen with fear, too scared to make any movement or try to come up with any reason in her mind that there wasn’t anything to be afraid of.

She wasn’t about to bother Hugo to make her realize that there isn’t a boogeyman under her bed because one, it embarrassed her to think that she needed such support from her little brother, and two, it wasn’t like she had a choice in the matter, anyway. She couldn’t even bring herself to lift her head up, and earlier she’d strained the muscles in her eyes to the point she surely felt she’d pop a blood vessel just to get a good look at her clock. Rio thought of a time a while back during her freshman year when she’d accidentally told Natalie about her massive fear of the dark. Natalie told her, in an attempt to shake the fear out of her habits, that most of the time there wasn’t anything in the dark to be scared of, and if there was, then she’d never have to face it alone. Her attempts amounted to little, obviously, but in Rio’s foolish and young ears, Natalie had basically said that she’d be her knight in shining armor during times like that night when Rio was spooked to the point even her voice had shrunk in its own shell and refused to come out from the back of her throat.

Natalie. Natalie, Natalie, Natalie. Rio already began to miss her bleached blonde hair and her eyeliner that’d been around her eyes for so long they could’ve been passed as real circles around her eyes like a raccoon. The sound of Natalie’s voice in her head saying she wouldn’t have to face her fears alone, all raspy and low, brought a warmth to her chest that seemed to work on thawing out the chilling fear that’d taken her body hostage.

She glanced over at the nightstand again. Her eye muscles strained once more, but this time she couldn’t find any ounce of giving-a-damn in her body to stop and let her eyes rest. Instead her gaze lingered on the telephone sitting on the top next to her alarm clock. The blackout curtain which was hung a few months ago let in just a tiny sliver of moonlight that shone on the top of the beige paint of the telephone. Rio contemplated on reaching over and risking getting snatched away by the boogeyman apparition accumulated by her imagination and dialing Natalie’s trailer and beckoning her over through the other end of the line. Then came a different kind of fear that was incredulously worse than the boogeyman under her bed. The fear that she was being needy, the fear of Natalie finally telling her to fuck off or just being straight up ignored.

The angel on her right shoulder told Rio that she should just take a few deep breaths and think happy thoughts. She was half tempted to reach over and flick off the angel for having made such a dumb suggestion when the department of sunshine and rainbows and cupcakes and bunnies in her brain was out of order for the time being and the nightmare department had been working overtime for the past thirty minutes since the lights went out.

The devil on her left shoulder told Rio to pick up the damn phone and call Natalie and completely ignore the off chance that she was asleep. Screw the boogeyman, the little red devil on her shoulder said, if it means you get to see your girl tonight, who gives a fuck if it’s Pennywise?

Wait— “your girl?”—

Pick up the fucking phone! And take a breath, damnit.

Rio mentally flicked the invisible angel off her shoulder and pulled her arm out from underneath her blanket. She leaned over, seemingly breaking through the ice that’d caked up around her limbs, and reached for her phone with her hand.

It shook in her palms, sweaty from the anxiety bubbling beneath her skin. She swallowed quietly, her tongue darted out to wet her lips after her entire mouth had gone dry. Her left hand reached over and dialed the number, her finger shaky and nearly missing all the digits and almost dialing a completely different number instead. She inhaled and exhaled weakly shaking her head before she pressed the phone to her ear.

Rio silently cursed the universe for having made the dial tone be so loud in a quiet room. She wasn’t even sure if Hugo was unconscious yet and she was calling someone past midnight. Third times the charm, or however the fuck it goes, she thought to herself when the possibility popped up in her head that her mother could’ve used her wicked spidey sense and sped over to her room to catch her on the phone. She gulped and wordlessly prayed to every deity in the history of theism and religion and mythology and whatnot that that wasn’t the case at all.

The stretch between Rio dialing the numbers and the tone starting seemed to be far too long for her liking.

One Mississippi.

A bug outside her window began buzzing. A moth, a bee, a wasp, whatever. The buzzing was so loud it might as well have been right in her ear.

Two Mississippi.

Maybe Nat isn’t home, Rio thought in an attempt to console herself and make up for the nervousness that’d started to swirl back in her stomach. She knew Nat sometimes wouldn’t go back home until the wee hours of the morning; she knew because most of the time it was because the two of them had stayed out all night.

Three Mississippi.

Okay, she better be fucking home—

“Hello?”

Rio’s teeth released her bottom lip, tearing off a piece after she’d been subconsciously chewing on her lap for the past few moments. A sigh of relief worked its way up her throat before she pushed it down once she remembered she wasn’t by herself.

“Hey, Nat,” Rio whispered. She turned her head slightly to try and see if Hugo was awake; he wasn’t. She felt blessed.

“Rio. The fuck are you doin’ calling me this late at night?”

Rio should’ve known that Natalie wouldn’t have enjoyed getting a call in the dead of night, regardless if she’d been asleep or not. She chuckled quietly.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m…I just feel like I’m about to have a literal nervous breakdown, or something.”

Natalie was silent on the other end. Rio couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing. On the other end, though, Natalie was swallowing a lump in her throat as she tried to think of anything to say that might’ve served to calm Rio’s nerves.

“You there?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry I called you, Nat. You–”

“It’s fine, doofus. Are you sayin’ you need me to come over?”

Rio felt a smile trying to stretch across her face. She let it; it was the kind of smile that made her cheeks warm and her heart beat just a little bit faster. The fretful clouds in her head began to clear up already.

“If it ain’t too much trouble, yeah.”

A beat. A moment of silence.

“But be quiet, though. My little brother’s here.”

“Hugo?”

Rio was sure Natalie had the phone pressed between her head and her shoulder at that moment. She heard the shifting coming from the other end, as well as her getting up to go grab her boots. Her grin widened.

“Yeah.”

Another moment of silence. For once, the lack of noise was comfortable.

“I’ll be at your window, idiot.”

“Thanks.”

“Mhm.”

Rio huffed out another chuckle when the dial tone followed immediately after. An excitement bubbled up in her chest as she looked at her window like that would’ve magically made Natalie appear in an instant. The fear was still there; it died down quite a bit in the moments that she and Natalie had called. It still lingered in the crevices of her shoulders and the hollows of the corners of her knees, watching, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike again and bind Rio to her bed until an inevitable Natalie-shaped antidote arrived.

The minutes passed. Rio glanced every few seconds at her clock and sometimes watched the minutes change from 12:20 to 12:21. She was impatient. She felt a hunger for Natalie’s very presence that was causing a pit to form in her stomach. She moved over to see if Hugo was still fast asleep and found him in a strange position that one could only be found in if they were having the best sleep of their life. So much for complaining about it earlier.

An hour passed. The hunger grew, and the more her body craved—no, not craved, because that’s weird— itched, for a lack of better words like craved, the more the fear came crawling back in a force that multiplied with each passing second wasted alone. Rio’s throat felt as if it had closed up on her. She knew first and foremost that Natalie would never abandon her for anything, but in the back of her mind she couldn’t stop the new and improved wave of anxiety that’d washed over her.

Her chest felt weird. A little too weird for her liking (the bar wasn’t very high to begin with). All prickly and impatient, her heart beat with the same connotation as someone tapping their foot on the floor, waiting.

Rio swore if she thought hard enough she could’ve manifested it into existence sooner: letting Natalie in, sneaking her around Hugo’s sleeping body and pulling her in by the collar of her leather jacket Rio knew she’d worn, laying in silence and listening to her breathing or whispering so quietly they could barely even hear themselves. Another smile tugged at her lips.

Then, she was certain she’d never ever feel this impatient for Seth, or anyone else, really.

Tap tap.

Rio’s head snapped upwards, the moonlight that’d shone through the sliver of her curtain gap casted a twinkle in her eyes unbeknownst to her. She cautiously crept out of bed, despite the fear that’d switched to taking root in her feet, and tiptoed to her window. Her fingers wrapped around the edge of the curtain to pull it back and revealed a head of bleached blonde hair glowing in the moonlight facing the side. Rio marveled in how Natalie looked even at this time of night, even if she’d taken an hour to get there.

Rio reached for the lock and nearly jumped out of her skin when it made a sound that Rio was sure would’ve woken up her mother. Rio and Natalie both locked eyes for a moment; Natalie looked much more calm than Rio had at the moment, with her hooded eyes and expressionless face. Rio looked a little… scared shitless, but she didn’t see any sign of Natalie brewing up some sort of tease in her head, so she brushed it aside. She pulled her window open and let Natalie crawl in after she’d taken off her boots.

The little devil on her left shoulder giggled in her ear when her heart started pounding in her chest again. Like it knew why it was doing that in the first place.

Natalie dusted off her black, dusty jeans (she’d tripped over a root and fell on her knee which resulted in a hole right where she landed) and messed with the hem of her shirt, fingers flitting back and forth over the edge like she was nervous. Was she nervous? Or just stalling so she didn’t have to say anything? Rio couldn’t tell, so she chose not to pay so close attention to it and opted to close her window and pull back her curtain instead.

“You didn’t say he was sleeping right there,” Natalie finally turned to face Rio after she spared the sleeping Hugo a glance. A teasing tone was in her voice, for reasons unknown to Rio other than the fact that was how she always sounded around her.

“I did say to be quiet, didn’t I?” Rio whispered back. She balled her fingers into a fist to stop herself from reaching out and grabbing Natalie by her jacket to pull her into bed with her. Natalie saw it. She said nothing.

“You don’t look like you’re on the verge of tears,” Natalie commented quietly, and gave Rio a once over. Rio swallowed and rolled her eyes, stepping away from Natalie and moving back to her bed. She sat in the middle criss-cross and looked at her pointedly.

“You look perfectly fine to me.”

“Hm. Must be the affection talking.”

Natalie scoffed. Her lips quirked into a grin as she ran her tongue over her front teeth. “You’re full of shit, y’know that?”

“Listen to the teapot calling the kettle black.”

Natalie flipped Rio off before she stepped over to Rio’s bed, kneeling beside it and resting her arms on the mattress. “Game recognizes game.” Rio inhaled quietly and looked at the edge, then back at Natalie. She raised an eyebrow.

“What, I got somethin’ on me?”

“No, idiot,” Rio chuckled quietly. She leaned over on her side and propped her head up with her hand, her other arm over her waist. “Our back gate was open earlier.”

“And?”

“And, it was what was giving me grief earlier.”

“Yeah, I still don’t follow.”

Rio internally groaned as she tilted her head back and clenched her jaw for a moment. Natalie huffed out a stifled chuckle.

“I, um…I kinda got scared. Like, what if something was under my bed?”

A moment of silence stretched between them. Rio let her head fall and her eyes met Natalie’s gaze, which held a look to them that told her she was about to pull some smart remark. Natalie raised an eyebrow as their eyes locked again, and a smirk smudged the corner of her mouth. She broke eye contact (which Rio was enjoying) to take a quick look under Rio’s bed, ducking her head under the bed frame and looking around with her naked eyes at the darkness that her best friend was oh so deathly afraid of. Then, with a stifled snicker, she went back up, and the size of her smirk had doubled.

“Well, no sign of the boogeyman over here,” Natalie shrugged. Her smirk lessened, and it turned into a softer version of itself. Possibly one of Rio’s favorites. “But, if it’s of any use to calm you and your nerves, you would’ve smelled something. Or heard something. Or someone would’ve jumped out as soon as the lights went off, or whatever.”

“You seem very confident in what you’re saying,” Rio remarked quietly. Her arm that was around her waist moved so that her hand rested flat on her blanket. Natalie didn’t want to think that it was Rio silently daring her to put her hand over hers and let a portion of her warmth engulf her for just a moment.

It was tempting, like dangling a carrot in front of a pig.

“Told you you’d never have to face these things alone, remember?”

“And you clown on me for being a sap.”

Natalie pulled away slightly from the edge of Rio’s bed with another quiet scoff under her breath. She shook her head, and she wondered if she should’ve just ignored the call and went to sleep immediately after. And though the thought floated around her head, she knew she’d never be able to deny her anything. Traveling from her trailer park to Rio’s neighborhood seemed about as easy as breathing, like going to such measures as walking around Wiskayok alone at night just to see Rio and make sure she was okay was a second nature to her.

Jealousy was like a snake hiding in the bushes. She’d stepped too closely to it, and it darted out and got her. The familiar taste of envy festered on her tongue like she was about to throw up. She found her emulous thoughts from earlier in the day circling back to the current moment and ruining it. She wondered, very rudely, if anything like this would ever happen with Seth instead of her. If Seth would ever be the one to sneak in through Rio’s window and have intimate moments where Rio held her hand out and wordlessly dared him to touch her like that. If Rio would ever call him for any reason in the middle of the night. If Rio would ever even think of him in such a vulnerable moment.

Obviously not, the little angel on her right shoulder told her. If that’s the case, you wouldn’t even be here. Get over feelin’ sorry for yourself.

“That’s somethin’ you and Seth both got in common,” Natalie knew she’d only just tested some very dangerous waters. She looked back at Rio to see if her face had changed at the mention of her chaser, to see if her suspicions were right or wrong and to either feed the doubt in her mind or try to extinguish it. “You’re both fuckin’ saps.”

“I don’t see what Seth has to do with this,” Rio mumbled, and she looked down at her blanket. Her fingers messed with the material of it, picking at it with her nails and smoothing her hand over it.

Natalie wasn’t about to let Rio know that her mundane response gave her an absurd boost of hope.

“Isn’t he your boyfriend now, or whatever?”

She’s playing dumb on purpose, Rio, the little devil on Rio’s left shoulder whispered into her ear as she looked back up at Natalie. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Y’know, this isn’t doing much to soothe my nerves.”

“Sorry,” Natalie murmured halfheartedly. She knew Rio was onto her. She didn’t care at that point. “You’re avoiding the question, though.”

“Not that this’ll do anything to serve as a balm to the big fat jealous wound over your heart, or whatever,” Rio started quietly. She looked around her room and hoped that some sort of god that had the power of forcible amnesia would make Natalie drop the topic already. “But he isn’t my boyfriend. I haven’t even seen him since this morning.”

“That’s right,” Natalie quietly snapped her fingers, like she really did magically drop the subject. “Your mom checked you out. Shauna told me.”

“You actually asked?”

“Well, yeah. I was wondering where my best friend went. I thought you’d totally blown off practice to go be with Seth or…do lines off an alien’s ass cheek, or whatever.”

Rio stifled a laugh, a hearty laugh this time, as she bit her lip with her teeth and pressed her lips together afterwards. “An alien’s ass cheek?”

“Gotta be as open minded and inclusive as I can be.”

“Yeah, you’re quite the progressive.”

Natalie laughed quietly, leaning her face into the mattress to stifle her voice with the blanket. Her shoulders shook slightly as she giggled, her hand snaked up the side of the bed and rested next to Rio’s hand. A daring move, one that Natalie’s proud of since Rio didn’t back away or retreat, didn’t tuck herself in her turtle shell and hide.

“You still don’t look like you’re on the verge of tears.”

Rio squinted her eyes. Her grin lessened into a tender smile. “You must be a fixer upper of sorts.”

“Is that the affection talking?” Natalie teased, earning an eye roll and a light swat in her arm from Rio as they both chuckled together in sync. Natalie glanced over at the alarm clock. 1:30.

“You think your mom would lose her shit if you let me stay the night?”

“Why, you gettin’ tired?”

“No,” Natalie’s grin turned bashful as she looked down at the blanket, her bangs working to cover her face.

“So you just don’t wanna leave, then?”

“Something like that.”

Natalie looked back up at Rio and they locked eyes again. She could’ve sworn she saw Rio’s gaze quickly drift down towards her lips then raced back up to her eyes like she’d been caught stealing from the cookie jar. It was one of the signals that this was one of the few times they found the conversation wasn’t going anywhere. She knew how that night would’ve ended, how her short time at Rio’s house would come to a stop. How she’d be inevitably sent off. It both hurt and soothed her heart that Rio couldn’t think of any other way to dismiss Natalie other than to seal the bounds of their time together with a touch of affection that left the both of them feeling flushed.

“Well,” Rio started after she cleared her throat nervously. Her heart was in her throat, and she knew as well. “I can guarantee you, you’d definitely be banned from coming over ever again.”

“You did well sneaking me in tonight,” Natalie shrugged one shoulder and looked at Rio pointedly. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“And what we know would make her pop a blood vessel.”

Natalie let out a dry chuckle, but she knew nothing was funny. She knew Rio’s mother wasn’t very fond of Natalie (as she wasn’t very fond of anyone but herself and her daughter), and she had the suspicion that her mother was starting to suspect the both of them having thoughts about each other that didn’t exactly pertain to the friendship they’d kept up over the last four years. She was right, of course, to have an inkling that they saw each other as anything more than friends. If she knew they’d been secretly kissing each other goodbye from time to time whenever they’d leave parties or games she definitely would’ve kicked Natalie to the curb and forbid Rio from seeing her again if she could help it.

Natalie looked over at Hugo, as if his snoring had ever distracted her before. “It’s a wonder how he didn’t wake up.”

“That’s all you, dude. You’re the one who kept laughing.”

They both sat in silence for the next few minutes. As they went by, they both sent each other knowing glances, and they weren’t the good kind. They both knew that they’d eventually bid each other goodnight and send Natalie on her way home with yet another invisible present to keep in her drawer and think about during her more vulnerable moments when no one was around, save for herself and a cigarette between her fingers.

Rio initiated it. An off chance, since it was usually Natalie who grew a pair first and went in.

They touched and they brushed and they ghosted each other’s lips. Natalie felt a rush, the same old rush she got every time they kissed and yet it never bored her. She felt she could’ve sat there for the rest of the night, simply bidding each other goodnight without ever actually leaving or going to sleep, knowing that come morning when the sun came to blind her with the bleeding reality that it would all be swept under the rug. And though this was the first time a moment like this actually happened, it felt so familiar to her, in a way that gave her deja vu and had her head nearly spinning off her body.

“Good thing he isn’t awake,” Natalie whispered once she reluctantly pulled back. Her tongue darted out as she looked up at Rio, and her lips immediately pressed together to hold back what she really wanted to say.

“I don’t think he’d snitch if he saw,” Rio muttered. Her lips felt like they didn’t belong to her body at that moment.

Natalie’s eyebrows drew closer together. She wanted to ask why, but a light turned on out in the hall and highlighted the bottom of Rio’s door. The light poured into a small part of the room, only a sliver, but it was more than enough to send a wave of panic crashing over Rio’s heart and frantically usher Natalie out as quietly as she could without Rio’s mother noticing her spidey sense going off and taking a detour to Rio’s room to see if anything was out of the ordinary.

Natalie went home a little bit afterwards. She walked around for a while, letting the cool breeze that followed the late hours of the night distract her from the dull pain that’d twisted in her chest at the knowledge that she was only a dirty secret at the moment. And that knowledge would never have the same moonlight shed upon it again, and instead the tears choked her heart that she’d never let out.

Natalie went home after her walk around Wiskayok in parts she knew she wouldn’t get snatched up in. She went to sleep a little bit afterwards, with her invisible present tucked to her chest instead of her drawer, the first ever.

[wooahaes]

the intimacy of knowing the other

pairing: non-idol!changbin x gn!reader

genre: fluff. established relationship.

warnings: food mentions. introverted reader. first time saying "i love you" to each other. they're kinda sappyyyy

word count: ~0.9k

daisy's notes: ohh binnie how i love writing u being the absolute sweetest dork...

Changbin considered himself an expert at dating you. Maybe it was a little arrogant to say, but he knew you well. That was why when one of his friends (Chris, the well-meaning guy that he was) suggested throwing a birthday party for you, he immediately shut the idea down. You were an introvert who worked with people and couldn’t get your birthday off: the last thing you wanted was to go from one busy job into what you would consider another. You liked his friends just fine since you met them several months ago, but he knew you. He knew that for your birthday, you’d rather receive their well-wishes and go home to cuddle with him.

“Oh.” Chris had blinked after Changbin finished explaining. “Ohhh,” he grinned, “you’re in loooove.” Before Changbin could correct him (he was, but he also knew you), Chris just continued with a friendly pat on the shoulder, “I get it. Tell them we thought of them, then?”

He would. He told you over the phone that night while he was finalizing his plans for the two of you, being the multi-tasker extraordinaire that he considered himself to be.

“Oh my god. Thank you.” You sounded exhausted now from work, and he could practically see you sprawled out on your couch. “I love your friends, but I don’t think I could make it through a work day and a party. I barely survived getting dragged to parties in college.”

He still found ways to make it special, though. Like he said… he considered himself an expert on you. He knew your favorite restaurants, the kind of sweets you preferred, and the kind of night-in you would enjoy. And, thankfully, Changbin had already been given the go-ahead from you to go into your apartment while you were at work the day-of. As far as you knew, he’d just be setting up for a cozy movie night for the two of you. 

Little did you know that he’d bought your favorite takeout and had carefully plated it so that it could be a romantic dinner for the two of you. He’d light a candle after you made it home… just to make it a bit more romantic.

That wasn’t it though. He’d bought you your favorite dessert, a portion entirely for you, and something for himself so that you wouldn’t have to share your birthday treat with him unless you wanted to. The couch already had your favorite blanket on it (sprayed with his cologne, since you told him how much you loved the scent). He’d bought you a teddy bear for your birthday that he might have dressed a little bit like himself, just so that you could cuddle with it when he wasn’t around. You’d saved him in your phone as your ‘teddy bear’ (with several hearts around it) for a reason, after all. He’d sprayed his cologne onto it, too, just so you really had a tinier, plush version of him around when Changbin was busy or away for work trips. He’d wrapped the little guy in your blanket, cozy as he could be. 

The second you opened the door, he was racing to greet you. “Hi, baby.” His eyes were twinkling as he looked at you. “Happy birthday.”

The weary look on your face seemed to melt all too quickly, and you dropped your work bag by the door. “I love you,” you mumbled as you made your way closer to him, immediately wrapping your arms around him and melting into him enough that your face was smushed against his shoulder. “You’re too sweet.”

He wrapped his arms around you, trying to ignore the fact you just told him you loved him for the first time as if his heart didn’t start racing the moment the words left your mouth. Changbin wrapped his arms around you, swaying in place for a moment. “I bought you dinner… and a new friend.” 

You perked up, watching him. “Huh?”

He nodded toward the couch, where the bear was sitting. “Happy birthday,” he said again. “There’s dessert in the kitchen.” 

He’s too sweet. You immediately leaned in to press a kiss against his cheek, only to turn the one into a barrage of kisses against his face. He let out a peal of laughter, arms quickly bracing you as you peppered kisses until you felt satisfied with yourself. 

“You’re adorable,” you squished his cheeks with a delighted laugh. “And the sweetest. I’m gonna go change into something comfy, okay?” 

He let you go, watching you with this lovestruck look on his face. As you disappeared into your room, he sprang into action to light the candle for your romantic candlelit dinner (... and technically still lit by the rest of the lights in your apartment, to be fair—he only had the one and he wasn’t going to turn down the lights just yet). You re-emerged all too quickly, sitting across from him as he started to ask you about your day, letting you talk as much as you wanted before he filled the space with conversation.

Then he spoke up. “Should we talk about that?”

You looked up. “Huh?”

“You said you love me.” His cheeks were faintly red. “Did you mean to…?”

You hadn’t. But you reached over, cupping his cheeks. “I do. I love you, angel. It never feels like I’m burning energy when we’re together, y’know? It’s like you recharge my batteries or something.”

Changbin’s gaze grew softer as he turned his face to kiss your palm. “I love you, too.” He said it slowly, quiet enough that it felt intimate between the two of you—even if the two of you were alone. “I didn’t want to say it too soon in case…” 

“You wouldn’t scare me off,” you giggled, pulling your hand back. “If you love me, then you can always say it.”

“Good.” His eyes sparkled a little. “Happy birthday, baby. I love you.” 

[sirbonesly]

Shut up for once in your life.

@anonmousegosqueak @writer-fennec @ihaventgotaclue-really

cw: hurt no comfort :(

A rough mission leads to Johnny

It always hurt to hear it. Doesn't matter if it was his mom saying it or just an annoyed civilian, hearing those words just always hurt. Johnny knows that he talks too much, that he's too loud and too touchy. He learnt to control himself, managed to keep his hands to himself and learn when people expected him to stop talking, the way their eyes would start to drift or their responses would taper off. Joining the military was... a little better. He was allowed to hang off of his teammates in the name of celebrating a mission well done, no one questioned if he got a little loud because it was probably just his nerves.

Joining the 141 was his saving grace, his final destination in life, his salvation. Starting with a Captain that would give him task after task until Jon knew was out of energy, then dragging him to the cafeteria for food. Kyle always had questions for his stories, was always engaged and shot back with his own thoughts, staying up late in their shared room whispering to each other past curfew. They've even had a few sleepovers now that they're in solitary rooms.

Then there was Ghost. Simon Riley. No matter how much John talked, or how close he would get to the man, or how loud he'd get, Simon listened. A naturally quiet man, Simon would offer the questioning hum or the nod to continue as John chatted his ear off. And while he thought that maybe Simon had stopped listening, if Johnny stopped talking, the man would look at him and prompt him to continue, reciting the last minute of information back to him.

John had found his family, people who finally liked his voice. Maybe it was just that the mission had been rough on all of them; too many hostiles they didn't know about, incompetent back-up, faulty charges that left them scrambling. John should've stayed quiet, but he couldn't handle sitting still on the cargo plane back to base, pacing the length of the floor and talking about anything and everything that popped into his head. He doesn't know what he was talking about, just that his voice is hoarse and it's Jon who grabs his wrist suddenly.

"Sit down and be quiet, son. You're running on fumes, we all are."

It's said in good faith, but the undertone of annoyance doesn't go unnoticed. Right. Johnny understands. They're all stressed and beat, being loud probably isn't helping the headache he knows the Captain is getting. He sits away from the others, mumbling to himself about the mission, about what he wants for dinner, about how itchy his shirt is. He stays quiet about it, doesn't bother the others, but he needs to talk or he'll start pacing again.

Things are normal for the rest of the flight, though Johnny feels like ants are crawling under his skin with every minute he sits still. Jon was right, they're all running on fumes, but Johnny's mind is going a mile a minute with too many thoughts by the time they land. He's the first on the tarmac, already heading to his room to decompress. He falls into step with Kyle clapping the man on the shoulder with a tired grin.

"Was thinkin' 'bout heading to the gym-"

Kyle shrugs his hand off with a tired glare, dark brown eyes catching the light of the setting sun and making John shrink back a little. He's never seen Kyle's eyes look so tired, almost... unfiltered. Discomfort is practically swimming in his irises, mixing with what Johnny hopes isn't disgust.

"I'm going to bed, Tav. Don't you ever stop, mate?"

He's gone before John can say anything, but it's alright. Johnny understands. Kyle has always hated going to bed too late, and he's fucking religious about his skin care routine. It was stupid of John to try and ask. He keeps walking, staying away from Kyle and Jon, heading to his room instead.

It's nearly 2300 by the time Johnny leaves the gym showers, energy finally put to good use and his muscles sore from the workout. He heads for the kitchens, boots squeaking against the tile floor as he rubs at his hair with a towel. The kitchen in the 141 common area is empty except for Simon, and his mood lifts at seeing the big bastard. The man is sitting at a table, staring off into the distance in a position that John recognises all too well.

His movements are fluid as he makes a cup of tea for Simon, getting himself a glass of orange juice in the process. Simon doesn't react when he sets the cuppa down, but his hands do eventually find the mug, wrapping tightly around the steaming thing.

Johnny talks. He talks about how shite the mission was, about the leftovers in the kitchen that were rather pitiful, even talks about the letter from his mum waiting to be read in his room. He's dealt with Simon's episodes before, and the man said that John's talking helped ground him. But not even thirty minutes go by before Simon is standing up. He hasn't responded to any of John's talking, not even a grunt, but John hadn't questioned it. He'd grown used to Simon's quiet presence.

"Just shut up for once."

John hears the hall door close, feels sweat collecting on his skin and his heart pounding against his chest. He sits in the kitchen, staring at the table in front of him, and doesn't move. Ants and spiders crawl over his skin, digging into his muscles as water rushes past his ears. Something covers his eyes, makes the world go hazy and clouded, and yet nothing gags him.

John mumbles to himself in the kitchen, has to talk or he feels like he'll explode. He talks about the mission, about why Jon and Kyle are probably just tired. He connects the dots on month old interactions, other moments where John just needed to sit down for a moment, or just stop, or to "listen up, Johnny." He tries to find the minute changes in Simon's body as he was talking, can't find the subtle turn or the relaxed shoulders. But Johnny understands.

He just needs to be quiet.

[realmsturkishdelight]

Hey! I was wondering if maybe you could write a Simon x suicidal reader story, just as a comfort piece for me?

It’s okay if it’s outside your comfort zone. I respect that!

i don't know if i can write that perspective well, love, it's a pretty serious concept. im sorry, so i hope you'll take this fic as a comfort 🫶🏻

tw ; self harm.

"si?"

"gorgeous."

"let's kiss forever."

simon was fine with that. if he could, he would. without taking any breath, break, or pause, he would kiss you forever. he hates god for giving him such minimum talents. what do you mean he can't kiss his doll forever? and she even asked nicely.

"le's do jus' that, doll." he hummed, his voice always calm and more deeper than usual with you. his accent was slurry, and he sometimes had to repeat himself so you can understand what he said. don't blame him, you had the same affect as a strong anti-depression for him.

the next few minutes passed like this; kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss.

feeling like your lips wasn't enough for his hunger for you, he trailed. cheek, jaw, neck, collarbone. each place being kissed at least five times. you chuckled at each one of them, which is a sound would ring in his head as the source of light in his darkness.

he found your arms, which had scars from past. it always made him mad about not entering your life earlier. he kissed each one of the healed cuts, pressing his face deep into your palm. your skin, not the perfume but your own skin smelled like heaven to him. call him biased but hey, no one can blame a man for being too in love with his girl.

"are you real?" he mumbled against your other palm, trailing down to kiss the scars there as well. "i can't even bloody express how divine you are." he murmured between kisses, healing your heart, mind, and soul.

tears perked in the corner of your eyes because god, you might've married a poet. he kissed them away before they could even fall. to him, it was a silent assurance. he'd catch your tears before they could stain your beautiful face, and even you, if you ever felt like falling down in your dream.

"still amazes me that you see me like that." you murmured against his temple, your voice a bit shaky.

"believe me doll, im still amazed that you don't." he replied, kissing the underside of your jaw. "you're fuckin' perfect. and all mine. im a selfish bastard when it comes to you. really."

simon never believed he'd settle down, and have a perfect woman that is so patient with him. he never thought he deserved that, never thought he could even have something like that. something calm, happy and completely the opposite of his dark life.

"thank you f'bein' mine, doll." he whispered against your skin, loud enough for you to hear. "i love you. so much it hurts."

you sniffled a bit, feeling speechless for a short while. "i love you, si." you whispered back. "thank you for saving me."

[yukioos]

Hii i’ve been recently with your writing and thought of an idea I’d love to see you write! So this is like postwar and bakugo comes to our dorm uncharacteristically quiet. Turns out he has been feeling insecure of his war scars! Anyway hope you feeling okay and thank you!

comforting katsuki when he’s insecure about his scars

katsuki has acted unusual lately, and especially quiet, which was very unlike him for his loud personality. it’s been months since the traumatic war ended, and you were lucky to even see katsuki alive again, in a hospital bed, though with almost his whole body wrapped in bandages.

when he began physical therapy and learned to walk again, he had to heavily monitor his activity. you were there every step of the way, and when you unwrapped the bandages, scars were littered everywhere, and katsuki looked horrified to see them, a look you’d never seen before. you thought maybe he’d be proud of his scars, something he could tell his kids about, though it would make sense to have trauma from them, a silent reminder of what pain he went through when he was only a teenager.

school has gone back to normal, teachers are still in classrooms but have been more lenient on you all because of the war. all classes at UA have become closer to each other through the shared trauma of being the number one targeted school, having the top students in the country with the most powerful quirks there.

as part of katsuki’s daily routine, he walked straight to your dorm after the last period, not having homework due to the teachers’ leniency. he walked in without a word, something that has been happening more often these days. he hasn’t been talking as much as he normally would before the war, or even in the hospital.

but eventually, you were fed up with it, and especially worried about his silence.

he sat on the bed next to you, and you asked him, putting a soft hand on his knee, “katsuki, honey, is something wrong? you’ve been acting odd these days.”

he shook his head, still not saying anything. you sighed and spoke, “you’re so quiet, and you’ve been looking into the mirror more often like you think there’s something wrong.” he didn’t say a single word, staring at the ground with an unreadable expression. “you need to tell me if something’s wrong, baby. we can’t solve it if you don’t talk to me.”

he paused for a moment, then he quietly spoke, voice faltering, “i was weak that day, when i was fighting him,” he hesitated, “i have so many scars because i wasn’t strong enough. each one of them is a reminder of how weak i was, how many people lost their lives that day because i couldn’t stop him.”

“yes, but your scars are a reminder of how many people you saved. he can’t hurt anyone else, katsuki, and you’re alive. you’re here, and people thank you every day for your sacrifice and how much you did for not just the school, not just the country, but for the whole world.” you rubbed his back, then placed a hand on his scarred cheek, “plus, i think they make you look handsome. they’re not something to be ashamed of.”

ever since that conversation, or just you reassuring him, he didn’t cover up as much. he didn’t feel the need to, he felt assured that he still looked great, and his scars weren’t just a reminder of his ugly past.

katsuki finally understood his scars were a reminder of the sacrifices he made when he was just a teenager, and how many people he saved as a result.

this was cute to make, i hope it wasn’t too angsty

[salty-autistic-writer]

Tommy has something to say. (Sequel to: Say Something, I'm Giving Up On You)

Tommy watches Evan sleep, and something painful curls around his heart. Something that wants him to slip underneath the blanket, wrap his arm around Evan, and pull him close until he can feel his heartbeat.

But he can’t do that. 

He can’t hold Evan while he sleeps. But he could hold Evan while they were having sex weeks ago, when their lips were so close they were almost touching, the shared air between them hot and filled with unuttered questions.

They haven’t even talked about … what they are now.

Friends?

Friends with one-time benefits?

Friends for whom you steal a helicopter and get chased by the army and the FBI?

Tommy isn’t sure. He isn’t sure about anything right now, but the - probably pathetic - fact that he’s happy when he can be around Evan. Even with how fragile the ground they are walking on feels right now.

He gently closes the door to allow Evan to get some more rest and sighs, running a hand through his hair.

What a mess.

When Evan texted him, Tommy thought it was because of his grief. Because he needed someone to talk to about Bobby. He didn’t expect Evan to start talking about Eddie first.

“I think I fucked up, Tommy. I … I told Eddie to leave. Because I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t take him acting like I’m making Bobby’s death about myself. It made me so angry. I think I destroyed our friendship. I just couldn’t look at him anymore. He said he doesn’t know if I did enough to save Bobby, because he wasn’t there. It’s not fair. How can he say that, Tommy? He knows what Bobby meant to me. He does!

God. Everything is already so broken, and now I broke this too. I feel horrible. And I hoped Eddie would want to talk. That he would want to … to fix this. But he just left. I hate when people do that! Why do they always have to leave.”

Tommy winced at that.

But he was more focused on the way Evan was blaming himself.

“You did the right thing,” he said, pushing his anger away, running his hand over Evan’s back. “Your emotions are valid. And if you needed to be angry at Eddie in that moment. It was valid too."

Evan nodded, but he still looked so sad. So small. So haunted. "It still hurts so much," he said quietly. "And I can't see a future in which it will hurt less."

He cried, and then he fell asleep, exhausted without a doubt.

Tommy pours himself a glass of water in the kitchen and quietly wonders about what he’s supposed to do with himself now. Should he stay and wait for Evan to wake up? Should he leave? Maybe he should take care of dinner … It’s almost painful, though, to look at the fridge. To think back to the day he was making breakfast here. Not for the first time, Tommy curses himself. He shouldn’t have walked out so fast that day … 

Old habits die hard. Old fears, too.

His thought process is interrupted when he hears the front door opening. Surprised, Tommy perks up. His first suspicion turns out to be true.

“Buck?” Eddie walks in and falters when he discovers Tommy, confusion and surprise on his face. “Oh.”

The last time they saw each other, it was at the funeral. They didn’t exchange more than a look and a nod, though. Tommy didn’t have the energy to think about this friendship that ended so abruptly. Not that it was a surprise. He’s used to short-term friendships. But now, looking at Eddie, he feels anger bubbling up inside of him.

After a few heartbeats, Eddie forces a smile on his face, rubbing the back of his head. “Uh. Hey, Tommy. Didn’t expect to see you here. I forgot a bag. Just wanted to pick it up. Is Buck here?”

Tommy doesn’t even try to smile. “He’s sleeping right now.”

Eddie keeps that awkward smile on his face, putting his hands on his hips. “Oh. Alright. I was hoping I could tell him I’m not angry at him or something.”

Tommy grits his teeth. “I don’t think that’s what you should tell him,” he says coldly.

Eddie frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I think you should apologise,” Tommy says, crossing his arms over his chest. “For accusing him of making Bobby’s death about himself. You say that a lot, you know? That he’s making things about himself.”

Eddie looks a bit taken aback for a moment, but then he asks, “What, you keep a list?”, clearly trying to joke his way out of the conversation. 

Tommy looks at him deadpan. “Yes. I do, actually. The bachelor's party. The wedding. That one time when he was trying to communicate his feelings about Chris being in Texas, and you shut that down fast. Now. I keep counting.”

Eddie stares at him, lips slightly parted, brows furrowed. Finally, he scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “And? What am I supposed to say? I know Buck. I’ve known Buck much longer than you. It’s something he does. He’s very emotional. He always gets so worked up, and then he spirals. You have to tell him so he notices and pulls himself out of that. Bobby’s death hit us all hard, but I don’t feel like Buck can see that. He’s too deep in his own head for that …”

“His feelings are valid,” Tommy grits out, the rage pulsing in synch with his heartbeat now, his blood rushing in his ears. He can’t believe the things he just heard. “He’s grieving his father figure. He’s allowed to feel as much as he wants. How dare you talk about him like this? Like, he’s not constantly thinking about everyone else? About you and the 118? His friends, his family? He thinks about how he can help everyone, fix everything, hold things together, and you have the audacity to tell him he’s making things about himself?! And don’t get me started on Bobby’s death. You told him that maybe he didn’t do enough? What would you have done, Eddie, huh? What difference would it have made if you had been there? We did everything we could.”

“I never said Buck’s feelings aren’t valid,” Eddie says under his breath, his smile completely gone now, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “And you don’t know what would have been different if I had been there, because I wasn’t. You were there, though. And isn’t that interesting? Wasn’t it you who broke up with him? Wasn’t it you who left him alone in the loft? You walked out. You abandoned him. You didn’t text or call him. And you know who he came to? He came to me. He sat on my couch, and he drank my beer, and he told me what you did to him. So what are you doing here, Tommy, acting like you have the moral high ground?”

Tommy swallows. Eddie’s words do sting. He remembers Evan’s pain-filled eyes all too well. “Yeah, I broke up with him. I never stopped caring about him, though. So when he called, I came. I know what he lost. I know what he needs. Someone who listens. Someone who comforts him. You clearly couldn’t do that, even though you’re supposed to be his best friend. You couldn’t take a moment to listen to him and hug him? Really?”

Eddie chews on his lip, shaking his head. “You know, I’m tired of having this conversation with you. Maybe you should leave, Tommy. Didn’t you think of me as “competition” anyway? That’s how well you know Buck, huh? You think he was in love with his straight best friend all this time? That’s kind of sad, bro, I’m not going to lie.”

“Don’t call me that. Don’t call me bro,” Tommy bursts. “Not when you immediately stopped talking to me after I broke up with Evan, Diaz!”

“Oh, we are at Diaz now?” Eddie sneers. “Well, what did you expect, Kinard ? Did you really think I would continue being friends with you after you walked out on Buck? Really. How pathetic are you? Anyway. If Buck needs someone to talk to and someone to hug him, he will tell me. He’s a big boy.”

The pulses of rage change into a storm. Tommy takes a step towards Eddie, forcing himself to keep his voice low. “I’m not going anywhere. Evan asked me to come, so I did. He told you to leave, though, so you should do that. Plenty of hotels around here. And I’m warning you, Diaz, Evan comes first. He will always come first for me. His well-being is what concerns me, no matter if we are together right now or not. I care for him deeply. So I swear, if you ever act that aggressive towards him again, if you ever shove a finger in his face or invade his space or blame him for his emotions again, I will be there to put you in your place, do you understand me?”

“Oh, so now he needs protecting?” Eddie asks, raising a brow. “Is that what you are here for? Maybe you do see Buck as a child, needing you, big strong man, to fight his battles?”

“Shut up, Diaz, or I swear I will -” Tommy starts, but then stops because he sees Evan entering the living room, looking between them.

“Buck,” Eddie starts.

“I told you to leave,” Evan says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why are you still here?”

“He forgot something,” Tommy says coldly, glaring down at Eddie. “But he was just about to leave. Isn’t that right?”

Eddie’s working his jaw. He looks like he wants to say something else. But finally, he just nods. “Yeah. I’m on my way. This place doesn’t feel like home anymore anyway. Goodbye, Buck. Take care.”

He grabs his bag and then he leaves without another word or a look back, slamming the door.

Evan looks at Tommy, and Tommy wonders how much of the argument he has heard.

“I think we should talk,” Evan says quietly.

(AO3 Link)

[orellazalonia]

Love Letters in the Smoke

Summary: During his rehabilitation, Bucky writes anonymous letters to process his thoughts. One night, he drops one at your circus campfire by mistake. You write back as a pen-pal romance begins. (Bucky Barnes x aerialist!reader)

Word Count: 1.6k+

A/N: I wanted to write something circus themed and thought this was a cute story. I hope the indents for the letters doesn’t look weird. Regardless, Happy reading!

Main Masterlist

The circus smelled of smoke, greasepaint, and a hint of nostalgia. The kind of place that looked like it had time-traveled from another century. Its canvas tents patched with care, and string lights casting soft golden halos in the dusk. You called it home.

Every night, after the crowd dispersed and the last child had been tugged away from the caramel stands, you’d sit by the communal fire pit with a notebook and your own thoughts. The crackle of flames soothed your nerves after a long evening performing. Tonight was no different until you found the letter.

Folded neatly in half, it was tucked beneath a rock near the fire. No name. No address. Just worn, thick paper, like it had been clutched tightly before being left behind. The handwriting was rigid, practiced, like someone who didn’t write often.

"I don’t know why I’m writing this. Maybe to make sense of the noise. I’m not used to silence. When I have it, the ghosts scream louder. I think I was someone good once, but I don’t know if that matters anymore. So I keep walking, city to city, place to place, hoping I can outrun myself."

Your fingers tightened around the paper, heart stirring with something strange. You didn’t know the writer, but you knew the feeling. So you wrote back.

Your first response was clumsy. You weren’t used to being vulnerable. But you scribbled on the back of a circus flyer:

“Sometimes I look in the mirror and wonder if the reflection is mine or someone else’s memory. If you were good once, maybe that piece is still inside you. If it hurts, it means it mattered.”

You left your letter the same way by the fire, under the same rock. You didn’t expect anything to come of it. But the next night, there was another one waiting.

"Didn’t expect a reply. It’s strange. Your words feel like a calm I haven’t earned. But thank you. I needed them more than I thought."

The letters became a ritual.

While the rest of the troupe celebrated, drank, or collapsed into their trailers, you and your ghost wrote to each other. You told him about your performances, your nerves before every show, how the roar of the crowd always seemed distant. He told you about dreams he didn’t understand, faces he couldn't name but could never forget.

"Sometimes I see their eyes. Just eyes. Hundreds of them. People I’ve hurt. People I lost. I wish I could believe I was still worth saving."

Your response was always gentle, honest.

“Pain doesn’t cancel out worth. I don’t know what you’ve done. But if you’re trying now, if you’re writing to a stranger in the dark just to stay afloat… then yes. You’re worth it."

He never signed his letters. You didn’t, either. But a bond was forming. Raw and quiet. The kind of intimacy that only comes when truth is stripped bare, and nothing is expected in return.

A week later, a new stranger joined the circus.

He didn’t give much away, just said his name was James, and he was helping fix up the rigging for the aerial performers. He was tall with broad shoulders. Dark hair pulled into a low bun. Quiet, watchful, like a man used to danger. You noticed the glove on his hands, the way he flinched when touched, and the haunted glint in his eyes.

He didn’t say much, but when he watched you during your act, a graceful ribbon aerialist twisting in midair, there was something almost reverent in his gaze.

He started lingering by the fire after hours, sitting a few feet away. You’d nod. He’d nod back. Neither of you spoke much. But his presence was… comforting.

The letters continued.

"There’s a performer here. I don’t know her name yet. She climbs like she wants to touch the stars. When she’s up there, it’s like she’s weightless. Untouchable. I think she feels more at home in the air than on the ground. I envy that."

You read that one twice, your stomach fluttering. Could it be?

You looked at James differently after that. You caught him watching you once, a rare smile twitching at his mouth before he quickly looked away. He never asked personal questions, but he always listened when you spoke. Even the small things. What you had for dinner. What color ribbon you liked the best.

And still, each night, the letters came.

Until the day it stopped.

You came to the fire, letter in hand, heart pounding. You had written it that afternoon, deciding finally to sign it with your real name.

But there was no letter waiting. Not that night. Not the next.

And James was gone.

You asked around only to find out that he had packed up quietly, said goodbye to no one, and left like a ghost.

-

Weeks passed. The circus moved on, as it always did.

You still checked the firepit sometimes. Just in case. A hope inside your heart that would be chipped away each time you found no letter.

Then, one night, as the stars blanketed the sky and your arms ached from rehearsal, you found it. A single letter. Folded tight.

Your name was on the front.

"I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye. I was afraid. You knew me before you knew who I was. And that scared me more than anything. I’ve done things, things I can’t ask forgiveness for. But when I read your words, I believed for a moment that maybe I wasn’t just a weapon. That maybe I could be more. You called me worth saving. No one ever said that to the Winter Soldier. But you said it to James."

Your hands trembled as you read the last part.

"I want to see you again. If you'll let me. There’s a train station just outside the next town. I’ll be waiting. – Bucky"

You folded the letter to your chest and smiled through your tears.

Finally, a name.

And maybe, just maybe, a beginning.

The next town was a blur of winding back roads and wind-chilled mornings. The circus was set up at the edge of a sun-dried field, the ground cracked from lack of rain. But you barely noticed any of it. Your mind was somewhere else, back at the firepit, at the letter pressed to your chest, at the name that made everything real.

Bucky.

It suited him somehow. Solid and sincere. A little old-fashioned like the man himself.

You folded the letter so carefully that it felt like folding a prayer. You didn’t show it to anyone. Some part of you was still terrified it might vanish if you spoke it aloud. But you couldn’t ignore it.

He said he’d be at the train station. So you went.

You left after rehearsal dressed in simple clothes, your hair braided back, and palms sweating in your coat pockets. The station was small and mostly empty. Just one old bench, a vending machine that wheezed when it tried to light up, and a single streetlamp buzzing like a nervous heart.

He was there.

Bucky stood near the tracks, hands in his pockets, back tense like he wasn’t sure he should stay. A battered duffel sat by his boots. His eyes were distant, tracking the horizon. Like he was still prepared to run.

You almost called out to him, but he turned first. When your eyes met, it hit you like a second heartbeat.

You'd read this man’s pain. Held his words in your hands like they were fragile glass. You had whispered encouragement to him under stars he couldn’t see. And now he was here. Real. Vulnerable. Waiting.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” He said, voice rough with nerves.

“I wasn’t sure you would wait,” You answered, stepping closer.

He let out a low quiet laugh, more exhale than sound. “I almost didn’t.”

“I’m glad you did.”

There was a long pause, but it wasn’t awkward. It was full. Thick with every letter, every word, every emotion neither of you had dared speak aloud.

“I’m sorry for disappearing,” Bucky began as his gaze dropped. “I… panicked. Thought it was safer if I left before I messed it up. But the truth is… I missed you.”

Your throat tightened. “You didn’t mess anything up. I… I missed you too. Every night I checked that fire.”

He stepped closer, the soft scrape of gravel under his boots. “I didn’t know how to do this. I still don’t.”

“Me neither,” You whispered. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest.

His gloved hand lifted, like he wanted to reach for you but was waiting for permission. So you met him halfway, pressing your hand gently to his chest. Through his shirt, you could feel the heavy rhythm of his heart, strong and steady, like it had finally found a beat worth chasing.

“I wasn’t falling for a stranger,” You said softly. “I was falling for the man in the letters. For the one who writes like he’s fighting for every word. That was you. It was always you.”

Bucky closed his eyes. Then, slowly, carefully, he leaned his forehead against yours.

And in that moment, there were no ghosts. No stages. No performances. Just the hush of the night air, the scent of iron and oil and smoke, and two people who had found each other in the most unexpected of ways.

“I want to try,” He murmured. “With you. If you’ll have me.”

You smiled. “Only if you write to me sometimes, even if we’re just a tent away.”

He chuckled, and it was the most alive you’d ever heard him. “Deal.”

[lay-z]

Had thoughts while crocheting. Apocalypse AU but instead of the m 141, you wander into the Shadow compound. A more start/concept/blurb for your imagination to have fun with? Way more longer than needed? The brain worms wouldn’t stop writing till they stop writing? Birthday present perhaps? Tw: kidnapping.

Pretty thing, driven to the ends of the earth but thankfully finding sanctuary in some old abandoned building for the evening. Yet even though it looked completely abandoned, covered in dust, cobwebs, and old blood stains. It wasn’t completely abandoned as it was still on the patrol path of the compound guards.

Soft footsteps coming from one direction putting you immediately on edge. Though it wasn’t the usual stomps and thuds of walkers, no these were precise, with a purpose. In this new world friends were more rare than foes so you waited. Waited behind a half wall made of rubble till you saw three men dressed in imposing tactical gear. Each with more ammunition than you had ever managed to collect.

The grip on the handgun you carry drops for only a millisecond but that is all it takes, for you to fumble the cold metal. The clattering of the gun against the pile of rubble the only disturbance that mattered. Yet quickly overshadowed by the sounds of feet turning, bodies shifting, and guns being pointed.

The soft thuds of feet coming closer to the wall filled your ears. One man climbing the wall and looking with goggled eyes down a scope. The scene before him is almost comical. A too soft woman reaching down the rubble for a fallen gun thats just out of reach. Both of you freeze as you just stare at each other. The other two men come up seconds later to see what has their brother not firing. Expecting maybe a dog or cat maybe.

Not a woman, yet they see it too. The perfect woman somehow managed to walk right into their territory. You’re a little banged up, in dirty hiking gear, with soft flesh that despite the apocalypse still looks plump. God had truly blessed them.

‘Ours.’ It echoes through all of the men’s heads and without a second thought, the one closest to the gun kicks it away. The other two hauling you up. Yet you are like a feral kitten right now, scratching, yelling, and putting up the fight of your life. They don’t blame you. If fact they enjoy it, reveal in the fact their girl, is putting up a fight. Means if god forbid one of the many men isn’t with you, you won’t be an easy target.

The one on your left chuckling a little. “Calm it down Mama. Don’t make this harder.” Trying to soothe you in the same tone an animal rescuer would speak to the cat or dog they just saved.

They eventually get your hands zip-tied behind your back. When they do you immediately go to being dead weight, yet these men don’t miss a beat as they drag you along deeper into the compound.

Chain fencing, barbed wires, and large stone walls is what greet you as you get deeper. Closer to the main headquarters. You also see more men in similar tactical gear. All who seem to look over at the new treasure being hauled into their Commander.

When you get inside the first thing that hits you is the AC. The base has electricity thanks to the solar panels on the roof, they maintained through the years. You don’t know that though. Your mind racking with how in the world they managed it, you don’t even notice the chair they bring you to. Cutting the zip tie, speaking to you “Sit and be a good girl for the commander. Or the consequences will not be ones you like.”

It must of been a good 15 minutes of waiting. Dread, unease, and anxiety pumping through you at dangerous rates. Letting you stew in your thoughts of what they will do to you. What the consequences would be if you did try to escape. You hadn’t seen any other women as they hauled you in here. There were still men with you, and all were armed to the teeth. Yet none hurt you nor said anything after their warning. Just their gazes trained on you at all sides and what felt like all angles.

As you started to attempt to calm yourself down and muster some courage to find some words to speak to them, a door opened. A man walked through. Light brown almost blonde hair was the first thing you noticed. The first man that you saw without a helmet. Without most tactical gear actually. Only a vest, a holster on his hip with a gun, and gloves. Blue eyes then landed on you and a too charming smile breaks out on his face.

The man saunters over and takes one good long look at you. Mostly to cement in his head that you are real and aren’t some made up group hallucination from a poisoned water source. When he saw you were in fact real, his smile only grew. He knew he wasn’t letting you go. You were his now. He had never wanted someone more in his entire life. He would break out every trick in the book to win you over to trust him and his men. Then he snaps out of his trance of just looking at you.

“Commander Philip Graves.” Introducing himself to you with an ease that feels too natural to him. Southern country accent rolling off his words as he shifts. His stance slightly wider, rolling his shoulders back and holding on to his vest. Like a bird now fully puffing out its feathers before his mating dance.

“And you, Sugar, just walked yourself right into one of the safest places a Darlin’ like you should be in.” He cocked his head ever so slightly as he spoke before nodding his head once.

“Reckon’ you should come with me. Get ya’ properly cleaned up and fed.” Not even giving you a proper moment to process his words, he reached out a gloved hand.

A gloved hand that would kill for you. A gloved hand that will keep you safe from the hoards that maybe lurking on the outskirts. A gloved hand that will see to your needs. A gloved hand that will love you like the blessing from god you are. A gloved hand that in this new world will place above anything else. A gloved hand that also commands the men around that will do the same.

-🦄

Then you guys fuck nasty nasty. Im bad at writing sex scenes or else I would of written one for you. 😔

Well, now I know what I'll be daydreaming about on my flight tomorrow 🥰

Thank you so much for sharing this with me. I love it 🥹 Would you mind if I write a continuation of this? 😏 I'm craving my Cuntry Daddy... 😮‍💨

[littlebluebird2000]

Twirling Hearts- part 5

pairing: yeon si-eun x reader (female reader)

rating: 18+

genre: romance, smut

warnings: overprotective sieun, school bullying, discussion about food and weight, violence, harassment, smut, mature language, sexual harassment/assault, slow-burn, jealousy, baku always being at the scene of the crime...

summary: Who would've thought that a ballerina and the school's most feared nerd would complete each other so well? Being the new student was never easy-especially not when you were the only girl transferring into an all-boys school. To make matters worse, Eunjang High has a reputation for having its fair share of troublemakers. Some of the rumors were enough to make anyone second-guess stepping through those front gates...

author's note: this chapter contains sexual content. if you are not comfortable with that, it's okay, i'll see you in the next story. it’s the finally so i went all out.

word count: 8k+

follow #bluebirdyeonsieun for updates on the story. for some reason, my tags aren't working :

part: 1., 2., 3., 4., 5.

Your apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of your laptop. You sat on the couch, finishing the last bit of your online class, while Sieun leaned beside you, lazily flipping through your math assignment.

“You missed this step.” He murmured, pointing to the page. “You distributed wrong here.”

You leaned in, your arm brushing his. “Oh—right. I forgot the negative.”

He nodded, calm and unbothered. He wasn’t teasing or judging, just stating the facts. There was a quiet concentration in him, but something gentler beneath it. Something lighter, as if the weight he usually carried had eased, if only for a moment.

Once the assignment was finished, the rest of the day passed without urgency. You reheated some leftovers and shared them cross-legged on the floor, talking about small, unimportant things. Every so often, your phone buzzed with a message. The boys were checked in to make sure you were doing okay. When Baku sent a ridiculous meme, you showed the messages to Sieun, who rolled his eyes and muttered. “Idiot.” There was no real bite to it. Just something that almost sounded like affection. The kind he didn’t quite know how to express out loud.

By evening, the sunlight had faded into a gentle glow, filling the room with a quiet calm. The TV flickered with some show neither of you cared about, the volume low and easy to ignore. You were curled up in the corner of the couch, nestled into Sieun’s side, his arm resting around you. His fingers moved slowly through your hair, gentle and absentminded, like it was second nature. He was quiet, but not in a distant way. This silence felt warm. Familiar. Safe.

“Hey.” His voice came softer than usual, hesitant. “Do you wanna come with me? To the hospital?”

You turned slightly, just enough to catch his face, his eyes fixed on the ceiling while his fingers continued to drift gently through your hair.

“To see my friend…” He said. “The one I told you about. He’s still not awake. But I sometimes go after school.”

There was something raw in his tone. Not fragile, but exposed. It didn’t feel like a casual question. It felt more like an invitation into a space he kept hidden, a quiet part of him that lived in silence.

You looked at him, eyes soft. “I’d really like to meet him.” You said quietly. “If he’s someone important to you… then he matters to me too.”

Something shifted in Sieun’s expression, quiet but clear. His gaze lingered on you, steady and unspoken. There was a softness there, something hard to name. Maybe it was trust. Or maybe a quiet kind of gratitude.

He didn’t smile, but his hand paused in your hair for a moment. He held your gaze, quiet and steady, then gave a small nod. It wasn’t much, but it felt like thanks. Genuine and wordless.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The bus hummed beneath you, the city passing by in quiet blurs of motion and light. You sat beside Sieun, close enough that your shoulder brushed his. His phone buzzed in his hand, and he glanced down, eyes scanning the screen. A soft sigh left him.

“It’s Gotak.” He said. “Baku challenged Baekjin. Wants to settle things this weekend.”

You turned slightly toward him. “Seriously?”

He nodded, already typing a response. “Yeah. Other student from the school are probably going to join the fight. I told them I’d help figure something out.”

He said it so evenly, so calmly, that it caught you off guard. No panic. No frustration. Just quiet focus. You watched him for a moment, wondering how he could stay so composed with something like that looming, but that was who he was. He was always planning ahead.

When the bus came to a stop, you both stepped off together into the cool air. The hospital stood a few blocks ahead, pale and still under the fading light. Inside, the air was sharp with disinfectant. The receptionist handed over a clipboard without a word, and Sieun filled in both your names. You followed him down a long hallway, past rooms and nurses and the faint, steady beep of machines.

At last, you reached the door.

He stopped in front of it, his hand hovering just near the handle.

“I haven’t been inside for a long time.” He said, not looking at you. “I usually sit out here. On that bench.” He nodded towards it. “I text his phone. Tell him stuff about my day. School. Random things. Pretend he’s reading it.”

You stayed quiet, letting him speak.

His fingers twitched slightly at his side. “But I think… I want to go in today.”

You gave a small nod, just enough for him to notice. You didn’t need to say anything. You were here, and that was enough.

After a moment, Sieun reached for the handle. His shoulders rose with a breath, then lowered as he slowly pushed the door open.

The room was quiet, save for the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the gentle hiss of the oxygen machine. Sieun’s friend lay completely still beneath the pale hospital sheets, an oxygen mask covering his face. Thin wires and IV lines ran from his arms to a nearby machine.

Sieun lingered at the side of the bed, unmoving, eyes fixed on his friend. After a moment, he stepped forward and eased into the chair beside him. His shoulders slumped slightly, and for once, he didn’t try to hold himself so tightly together

“Hey, Suho.” He said, his voice soft. “It’s been a while.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees, eyes locked on the boy lying in front of him. You stayed quiet, listening and letting him have the space he needed.

“I brought someone with me today.” He continued quietly. “It’s Y/N. The girl I’ve been texting you about.”

His voice caught slightly, just for a second, but he didn’t stop.

“She’s the one who always looks at me like I’m more than I am. You’d probably roll your eyes and say I’ve gone soft.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He looked down then, fingers lacing together in his lap.

“I really wish you’d wake up now.” He said, and this time his voice was lower. More raw. “It’s been so long. I keep thinking… maybe tomorrow. But it’s never tomorrow...”

He leaned back slightly, looking at Suho’s face. His eyes were tired, but open in a way that didn’t happen often. Honest. Unshielded.

“I don’t know what else to say.” He admitted. “But I thought you should meet her. Even like this.”

His voice trailed off, and he sat there, quiet, looking at the boy who used to sit beside him in class. The boy who used to make him feel like he wasn’t alone.

You stepped forward without a word and gently placed your hand on Sieun’s shoulder. He didn’t look up, but you felt the way he leaned ever so slightly into your touch, as if grounding himself in the moment.

“Hi, Suho. It’s nice to meet you.” You said, voice calm, steady despite the tightness in your chest. “Don’t worry about Sieun. I’ll keep an eye on him while we wait for you to come back.”

For a few seconds, the room was quiet again.

Then you noticed the tears trailing silently down Sieun’s cheeks. He stayed where he was, unmoving, eyes steady on Suho. The tears came slowly, tracing quiet paths down his cheeks. He let them fall. There was no outburst, only the quiet ache of someone who had been holding everything in for far too long.

He looked at Suho like he wanted to speak, like the words were there but just out of reach. His jaw tightened, and his hands curled slightly in his lap. The silence around him was not empty. It was filled with everything he could not bring himself to say. Grief. Frustration. Longing.

And in that quiet, it became clear. The hope inside him was still alive, small and aching. It sat heavy in his chest, steady and painful. The kind of hope that hurts just to carry.

You stayed beside him, your hand resting gently on his shoulder and you knew that just being there was all he needed.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You stepped out of the hospital side by side, the automatic doors closing behind you with a hush that felt too final. The sky had darkened while you were inside. Sieun walked close to you, quiet, his hand brushing against yours before he gently took it. He didn’t squeeze. He just held on, like he needed the contact to remind himself he was still here, still allowed to feel something.

You glanced at him. His face was tired, unreadable, but there was something fragile in eyes.

“If you want, you can come to my place.” You said softly. “But if you need time alone, or to go home… I’ll understand.”

He didn’t look at you. He just walked beside you, his eyes fixed ahead. Then he said, softly. “I’ll stay. As long as you’ll have me.”

That hurt, the way he said it. Like he was asking permission just to exist. “You’re always welcome at my place.”

And you meant it. Every word.

But he slowed his steps a little, eyes dropping to the pavement.

“I should stop by my apartment first.” He murmured. “Just to grab some clothes. A few things.”

When you reached his building, you felt something in him shift. His steps slowed just slightly, his grip on your hand tightened before he lets go to unlock the door.

His apartment felt colder than you expected. Not physically, but in the way it seemed to carry no warmth at all. The light from the ceiling was faint, casting more shadows than comfort. His mother was on the couch with her phone in her hand. She didn’t look up until the door closed behind you. She stood up.

“There you are.” She snapped. “You didn’t call. You don’t even think about me, did you?”

Then she saw you.

Her words trailed off as her eyes shifted to your face. She blinked, clearly thrown. For a moment, she just stared, like she couldn’t quite figure out where you’d come from or why you were standing next to her son. You bowed quickly. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Y/N.” You said politely.

She didn’t reply. Her eyes stayed on you for a second too long before shifting back to Sieun.

“This is what you’ve been doing?” She said, her voice rising. “Running around with a girl while I sit here worried? How can you be so selfish? Can’t you think about me for once?”

You froze. But Sieun...

He turned around slowly to face her, his voice steady, too calm. “Since when do you care what I do?”

She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t care before I moved in.” He said. “Back when I lived with Dad, you didn’t call. You didn’t ask how I was doing. You just liked getting the report cards. I was a good son, right? As long as you had something to brag about at work or to your friends…”

“That’s not true.” She said quickly, shaking her head. “You don’t know how hard it’s been for me. I did my best—”

“Right.” He cut in. “You’re the one who had it hard. I get it. Raising a kid who was always sick, always quiet, always a little bit too much trouble.” He said it with no heat. Just exhaustion. A truth repeated too many times in his head. “I didn’t move in with you because I wanted to.” He added. “I had to. The school’s closer. That’s all.”

“Don’t act like I never cared about you—”

“You cared when it made you look good.” He said. “When I was getting awards. When the teachers called home. You smiled and told everyone how proud you were. But when I needed you….When I was having a hard time …You didn’t even notice… Because you were never there.”

She stood there, stunned, like she couldn’t believe he’d say those things out loud. Like she was the one being attacked. “Sieun, don’t say things like—”

“Our relationship worked better when you ignored me.” He continued. “I wish you’d stop pretending we’re something we’re not. We’ve never been close. We don’t have a normal mother-son relationship. We never did. I’m not trying to fight. Please, let’s stop pretending.”

He turned to head to his room, but paused in the doorway. “I’ll text, sometime.” He added, voice quieter now. “I’ll come back every now and then. This is still home, even if it doesn’t feel like it. I just… need space. That’s all. I’m sorry.”

For a second, her face shifted. Something like guilt flickered there, but it passed quickly.

Without waiting for a reply, he walked in his room. You bowed slightly again and followed him. He packed fast. Efficient. Like he knew exactly what he needed and wanted to leave before anything else could be said. Clothes, toothbrush, charger, hoodie. A few books. His hands were steady, but his silence was loud.

“Even when I was little. Even when I was scared or sick. She’d tell people how hard it was for her. And I thought maybe if I worked harder, she’d… see me differently.” He muttered.

You stepped closer, placing your hand gently on his arm. “You don’t have to keep earning love that should’ve been given.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just zipped his bag and stood there for a second, staring at the floor. Then he nodded.

You walked out with him. His mother didn’t say a word. Neither did he.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The week dragged on, each day heavier than the last. Everyone at Eunjang felt it, even if no one said anything out loud. It was in the way conversations stopped when certain names were mentioned. In how Baku’s usual teasing quieted down, replaced with short nods and long silences. Even Sieun seemed different. Calmer on the outside, but more distant, like he was already somewhere else.

The Union had gone too far. Taking you had crossed a line, and Baekjin knew that. Maybe that was the point. Maybe he wanted to pull Baku into a corner where he’d finally have no choice but to fight back. But if Baekjin thought fear would win, he clearly didn’t know Baku as well as he used to.

The fight was set for Saturday. Earlier in the week, Sieun, Baku, and Gotak had asked you not to join, almost in unison.

“This one’s going to be bad.” Baku said, voice low. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near it.”

You knew they were right.

Not to be cliché, but you were a ballerina. You weren’t the violent type. You didn’t fight with your fists. Your world was built on discipline, control, the ache of movement, not the sting of bruises. They had told Juntae not to fight as well. He had argued at first, of course. Juntae wasn’t one to sit back when the rest of them were moving forward. But this time, they wouldn’t let him. Especially Gotak. He had pulled him aside early in the week, voice low but firm.

“You’ve done enough.” He said. “We need you safe.”

Juntae wasn’t the strongest physically, and he knew it. But mentally, he held them together. He was the one who always brought them back when they lost focus. The one who reminded them what mattered when things went too far. Without him, the group wouldn’t be what it was. He finally agreed on the condition that he could watch from afar with you, just in case things got out of control.

Saturday came by faster than you would have liked. The rain hadn’t stopped all day. The field was nothing but mud and gravel. You stood far from the fight, far enough to stay out of reach, but close enough to see everything. Beside you, Juntae stayed still under his umbrella, the rain tapping steady against the fabric. You gripped your own a little tighter, heart lodged somewhere in your throat.

Out on the field, boys from Eunjang gathered slowly, their silhouettes dark against the gray sky. Every single one of them wore their school uniform. The same navy blue blazer and white shirt with the striped tie. It wasn’t about school pride. It was about unity. About letting the Union know they weren’t scared. Not anymore.

Baku stood at the front, eyes fixed across the field. Gotak beside him, stone-faced. Sieun stood a little behind them, calm and unreadable. He didn’t look around. He just stared forward like he already knew exactly what had to be done.

The Union stood across from them. Less of them than expected. Word had gotten around, and many of their members had backed out at the last second. Maybe they realized Baekjin wasn’t invincible after all. Or maybe they just didn’t want to bleed for someone else’s pride.

And then Baku stepped forward. He raised his voice just enough to be heard through the storm.

“Na Beakjin!” He screamed

The Union’s leader didn’t move.

“If you lose.” Baku shouted. “This is the end of the Union!”

Baekjin tilted his head slightly, but didn’t answer to him. You saw his mouth move slightly, like he was talking to his gang members. You couldn’t understand from this far.

After that, a battle shout resounded and all the umbrellas dropped.

You saw the first punch fly. Then another. Then it became impossible to keep track.

You and Juntae stood frozen in place. Mud was splashing everywhere. Baku tore straight for Baekjin like nothing else mattered. Gotak crashed into a group like a wrecking ball, clearing space for his friends. And Sieun…

He fought like the rain didn’t touch him. Calm. Focused. Every hit with purpose. He didn’t shout or snarl like the others. He just moved. Quick and brutal and silent.

Baku and Baekjin stood across from each other now. Around them, the chaos kept going. There was fists and shouts and soaked uniforms slamming into mud… But this moment belonged to them. Old friends. Now enemies. You didn’t need to know all the history to feel the weight of it in the air.

Baku didn’t waste time.

He lunged first, going for Baekjin’s shoulders, quick and brutal. Every hit aimed high. You could tell he was trying to wear him down, knock the strength out of his arms before it built up. His fists were loud, messy, full of heat. The kind of fighting that looked like it came from the heart or maybe even the guts.

Baekjin’s moves were tighter, smarter. Everything was deadly precise. When he managed to land a hit, it made Baku stagger.

Still, Baku didn’t stop. Not until Baekjin caught him clean across the jaw.

You saw it happen. Baku’s knees giving out, his body dropping into the mud like it weighed twice as much. Your breath caught in your throat and you grabbed Juntae’s sleeve. Juntae didn’t say a word. He just lifted a trembling hand to his mouth, eyes glassy with disbelief

The rain halted abruptly, as though the sky itself had paused in anticipation.

Your umbrella hung limp at your side, water still dripping from the edges. You didn’t notice it anymore. Your eyes were fixed on the middle of the field, heart beating too fast to count.

Baekjin stepped over him, breath heavy.

“Who’s next?” He shouted, chest rising and falling. “Come on! I’ll take all of you!”

The rest of the field had gone still. Not a single punch thrown. They were all watching now.

Gotak took one step forward, fists already clenched.

But Sieun stopped him.

A single hand on the shoulder. Nothing more.

Gotak looked back, unsure for only a second. Then he let him pass.

Sieun stepped into the open without a word. No words. No expression. Just calm.

You gripped the fabric of your Juntae’s blazer.

He ducked the first swing with barely a flinch, wrapping around Baekjin’s leg like he’d studied every move in advance. Where Baku had gone for the upper body, Sieun went low. You saw the glint of metal in his fist — brass knuckles. He didn’t hesitate. He drove it into Baekjin’s leg, again and again, forcing him to buckle.

Baekjin staggered, but didn’t fall.

The two of them circled each other. This wasn’t the same as before. It wasn’t about power anymore. It was about two minds trying to out-think each other while their bodies gave out underneath them. Sieun hit Baekjin again, but he swung back fast, catching Sieun in the shoulder, then the ribs. Hard. You flinched.

You had stepped forward without realizing it.

“Sieun—!”

Juntae grabbed your wrist. “Don’t. Let him handle it.”

Your chest ached with how hard your heart was pounding. Your legs felt heavy, like the ground was pulling at your feet. All you could do was watch, barely blinking, eyes locked on Sieun as he took another blow and staggered back. You wanted to run to him when Baekjin landed another strike that sent him to the ground. Mud streaked across his face as he coughed, trying to breathe through the pain.

Baekjin walked up to him, blood at the corner of his mouth. “What is this?” He asked, voice hoarse. “Is this still part of your little plan, Sieun?”

Sieun turned his head slightly, dirt on his cheek. His voice was soft. “Still within the margin of error.”

And just as Baek-jin turned to look at him again —

Baku got back up.

You almost shouted.

He moved like a shadow out of the fog, face bloodied, jaw bruised, eyes burning. And then…one clean swing.

A punch to the side of Baekjin’s head.

It landed so hard you heard the crack echo across the field, like a branch snapping clean in two.

Baekjin hit the ground.

Then Baku stood over him, breathing hard. His voice was hoarse, quiet, but you heard it.

“I’m sorry.” He said, eyes sad. “But you should be sorry to me too.”

It was over.

The Union had fallen.

Cheers erupted from the Eunjang students behind you, the sound wild and raw.

Baku turned and looked at Sieun, still lying in the dirt. Without a word, he crouched and helped him up.

You and Juntae ran toward them. You couldn’t stay still anymore.

The rain had started again, light this time. Just a steady, cold drizzle, like the storm was finally winding down.

When you reached them, Sieun was on his feet, but just barely. His lip was split, blood at the corner of his mouth, and scratches ran along his cheek and jaw. Dirt clung to his uniform, and bruises were already blooming across his cheek. He still had the brass knuckles gripped tightly in one hand.

He was staring at Baekjin, who was still lying in the mud. Awake, but not moving. His face was streaked with tears, silent and steady, like he didn’t even realize he was crying.

There was no triumph on Sieun’s face. No pride.

Only pity.

And something else.

Like he’d seen this play out before, and already knew how it ended.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

Back at your apartment, the quiet felt heavier than usual. The fight was over, but it hadn’t really left either of you.

Sieun had just come out of the shower, a towel still hanging loose around his shoulders. His wet hair clung to his forehead, and the bruises stood out darker now, stark against his skin. You didn’t say anything. Just patted your bed and waited for him to sit.

He did, slowly, shoulders stiff. You knelt in front of him with the first aid kit, hands working in silence.

His knuckles were torn open, raw from the brass. You cleaned them gently, not looking up as he watched you. The scratches on his cheeks were superficial, but angry-looking. You pressed a cotton pad to each one and taped them without a word.

When you dabbed alcohol onto the cut on his lip, he flinched. AYou didn’t comment. Just moved slower after that. Careful. Steady.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the soft rustle of the bandages and the faint drip of water from his hair hitting the floor.

“I know it wasn’t easy.” You said quietly. “But I’m proud of you.”

His eyes flicked up, surprised.

“Not because you won.” You added. “But because you stood up for everyone. You didn’t have to, but you did anyway.”

Sieun looked down again, jaw tight.

You hesitated, then went on. “Baekjin… I don’t think he’s the monster everyone says he is. He looked… lost, honestly.”

His fingers twitched slightly at that, but he didn’t interrupt.

“But that doesn’t excuse what he did.” You said, voice steady. “People go through awful things — I get that. But it doesn’t give them the right to hurt everyone around them because of it.”

Sieun looked at you, quiet. There was no surprise in his eyes…just a tired sort of understanding, like he’d already been thinking the same thing.

“I’m just glad you were the one who stepped up.” You continued. “Because you didn’t fight out of pride. You fought because you cared.”

You didn’t press him for a response. You just kept tending to him in silence, dabbing gently at the cut on his lip, brushing antiseptic over the scrapes along his knuckles.

You handed him a couple of painkillers and a glass of water, and he took them without a word. Then you grabbed the ice pack you’d left on the nightstand and pressed it lightly to the bruise forming beneath his eye.

A few seconds passed like that, his eyes on yours, the cold pack resting between your fingers, and your hand on his face like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Then, softly, like it was the only thing left to say, he murmured. “I love you.”

You just looked at him for a moment, then smiled.

“I know.” You said. “I love you too.”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You woke up to the sound of quiet breathing and the soft weight of an arm around your waist. The room was still, dim with early light. For a while, you just stayed there, letting yourself feel it.

Sieun was asleep next to you, lying close. His body was warm against yours, solid. Familiar. His face still carried the traces of the fight. There were bruises along his cheekbone, a swollen lip, fading red scratches near his jaw, but none of it took away from how pretty he looked.

You shifted slightly, careful not to wake him. His grip tightened, just a little, like his body was used to holding onto yours. Carefully, you reached up and pushed a strand of hair away from his face and smiled to yourself.

You’d shared a bed before, more than once, but this time felt different. Being next to him wasn’t just comforting…it made something inside you feel steady. Like you’d been holding your breath without realizing, and now you could finally let it out.

You looked at him again, at the mess of his dark hair falling across his forehead, the rise and fall of his chest. And just for a moment, you let yourself think it…

Waking up next to Sieun might be your favorite thing in the world.

Sieun stirred beside you, a quiet shift of the blanket and a faint scrunch of his brow as he blinked awake. His voice was still rough with sleep when he let out a low, muffled sound.

You laughed, barely, and leaned in to press a light kiss to his cheek, careful not to touch the bruised parts. “Morning.” You whispered.

He didn’t respond right away, just looked at you with half-lidded eyes, like he was still trying to figure out where he was. His body was slow to move, stiff from the fight, but he didn’t flinch when you shifted away.

“I’ll get your meds.” You said quietly, slipping out from under the covers.

In the kitchen, you filled a glass of water and grabbed the painkillers. When you returned, he had sat up slightly, resting against the headboard with one arm draped across his stomach.

“Do you want more ice for your bruises?” You asked.

He took the medication without complaining this time, his fingers brushing yours. Then he shook his head. “I’ll be okay.” His voice was rougher than usual, but steady. You sat down on the edge of the bed and held out the glass of water.

He took the glass, brushing your hand in the process, and swallowed the pills without a word. You watched his throat move, his busted lip stretching slightly as he drank. He winced, but didn’t say anything. He gave the glass back with a small nod of thanks, still drowsy, his body heavy with leftover exhaustion.

Without thinking, your fingers drifted up into his hair, lightly combing through the soft strands. He didn’t speak. He just let out a slow, contented sigh and closed his eyes, his body relaxing more with each pass of your hand. It was subtle, but you could feel it…the way he leaned into your touch like he needed it.

When you paused for just a moment, his eyes cracked open and he let out a quiet, disappointed groan.

You laughed, shaking your head. “That good, huh?”

He smirked faintly, eyes fluttering closed again. “Don’t stop.”

Your hand stayed in his hair, gentle and slow, until you felt the tension completely leave his body.

“You’re staring.” He said softly, voice still rough with sleep.

“Yeah.” You murmured, not bothering to deny it. “You’re pretty. Even like this.”

He gave a tired, crooked smile. “That’s not true.”

You leaned in just a little, thumb brushing the edge of his jaw. “It is.”

He didn’t say anything to that, just watched you, the softness in his eyes growing deeper by the second. And when you leaned closer, carefully and slowly, he didn’t pull back.

Your lips pressed the lightest kiss to the uninjured side of his mouth, just a brush of warmth. He let out a small breath, almost like a sigh, and his hand found your hip under the blanket.

Sieun’s fingers curled slightly and he pulled you just a little closer. His eyes were still half-lidded, and the way he looked at you now, steady and drawn in, sent a warmth spreading through your chest.

Then he leaned in again, this time aiming for more than just a soft brush. You felt the shift in him, the way he tilted his head slightly, searching for a deeper kiss.

You stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Sieun.” You said gently, a quiet laugh in your voice. “You’re still healing. Your lip—”

“I’m fine. I swear.” He murmured, voice low, almost a whisper against your skin.

You looked at him for a moment, searching his face for even a flicker of pain. But there was only that same calm certainty he always showed when he meant what he said.

Still careful, you leaned in again, slowly and cautiously, meeting him halfway. And this time, he kissed you fully. A little clumsy, a little careful, but real.

The kiss deepened slowly, breath catching between the pauses. His hand slid up your back, deliberate and warm, before settling at your jaw. When he kissed you again, it wasn’t cautious anymore. It was hungry in a way that made your pulse skip.

You barely noticed the shift in position until you felt the mattress dip and his weight press more firmly against you. Sieun laid you gently onto your back, his hand bracing beside your head. His lips hovered above yours, his breath uneven.

“I want you.” He said, voice low and a little hoarse.

Your breath caught in your throat. The weight of his words settled over you, not heavy, but warm, like something long-awaited and real. You searched his face. His eyes didn’t waver. Even with the cut on his lip, the fading bruises, the exhaustion still clinging to him, he looked at you like you were the only thing he could see.

You nodded slowly. “I want you.” You said, your voice soft, barely above a whisper. Then you added. “I want you too.”

His shoulders eased, his eyes darkened, and he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath this entire time. Sieun’s gaze dropped to your mouth, and he kissed you again. Your fingers found his hair. He sighed into the kiss, letting it pull him closer until there was hardly any space between you.

His hand slid under the hem of your shirt, palm warm against your skin. You gasped softly, the sound swallowed by his mouth. The tenderness from earlier melted into something needier, more urgent.

You kissed along his jaw, avoiding the worst of his injuries. He let out a low breath, almost a groan, his hands gripping your waist tighter.

“Tell me if I hurt you.” You whispered.

“You won’t.” He breathed. “I’ll tell you. Just—don’t stop.”

You could hear the slight catch in his breathing every time your fingers moved through his hair. His sighs were low and soft, almost like they slipped out without permission, like the sensation was too much to hold in.

His hand traced along your ribs with reverence, fingertips trembling slightly when he glazed your naked breast. You arched into him as his lips traveled to the corner of your jaw, then lower, grazing your neck with barely-there kisses that made your skin feel too tight, too hot.

His fingers brushed the edge of your shirt again, slower this time, deliberate. He paused, giving you a chance to pull away, but you didn’t. Instead, you lifted your arms in silent permission. Sieun helped you out of it carefully, as if the fabric itself were something delicate. Next came your underwear.

You felt his gaze, but it wasn’t heavy. It was tender. His breath caught, but he didn’t rush. His hands stayed warm and steady, resting lightly on your waist.

“You’re beautiful.” He said, voice barely audible.

In response, your hands reached for the hem of his shirt. He didn’t hesitate, letting you lift it over his head and toss it aside. His skin was warm under your touch, his chest rising and falling just a little faster now. Faint bruises still lingered along his ribs.

Sieun sat back slightly, his gaze holding yours. He didn’t speak, but the question was clear in his eyes. Is this still okay?

You met his look and nodded once, slow and certain. That was all he needed.

Without a word, Sieun shifted just enough to hook his thumbs into the waistband of his pajama pants. He slid them down and off in one smooth motion, dropping them carelessly to the floor.

He leaned down to kiss you again, slower this time. His mouth moved gently against yours, deepening the kiss as his tongue brushed softly past your lips. Your hand moved lower, slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers.

He tensed for a moment, caught between surprise and the rush of sensation, but then exhaled, eyes fluttering shut as he melted into your touch. Your fingers wrapped around him, stroking his length as he moaned into your mouth. You pumped him from base to tip, running your thumb over the wet patch at the head of his cock, making him shuttered.

In return, he lowered his hand from your waist, down to your crotch, the motion a little clumsy. You heard him cursed when his fingers came in contact with your heat. He found what made you breathe deeper, what made your fingers tighten, and his hesitation began to fade. Each reaction from you seemed to guide him, steadying his hands and calming his nerves. His finger pressed onto your clit, placing careful pressure before working it in a circle. His movements grew more sure, but never careless. Every shift of his hand, every kiss against your neck... He wasn’t rushing.

He slipped a finger inside and you gasped in his mouth, tightening your grip on him. He started pumping slowly, curling his fingers inside you, your wetness helping him with his movements. A whine flew from your lips as he hit the spongy spot inside you, making your entire body twitch.

“S-Sieun.” You cried when he added another finger and curled it.

Sieun pulled back from the kiss, his lips barely parted, his breath uneven. But he didn’t move far. He hovered just above you, eyes locked on your face.

You could feel the weight of his gaze, the way it traced over every part of you. Your flushed cheeks, the parting of your lips, the soft rise and fall of your chest… He was looking at you with awe. Like he couldn’t believe he was the reason you looked like this.

He tilted his head just a little, the corners of his mouth lifting in the faintest hint of a smile. “You feel good?” He asked, voice low and just a little teasing.

Your lips curved into the barest smile, and you gave a small nod. “Yeah.” you whispered. “I do.”

Sieun’s eyes softened. He exhaled slowly, as though that one word had undone whatever tension he still carried. His hand rose to your face, fingertips brushing your cheek, then tucking your hair behind your ear. “Let me take care of you.” He said as he removed my hand from his boxers, away from his hardened cock.

You started to protest, but when he started pumping his fingers faster, curling them inside at just the right angle, a strangled sound left your throat. Your eyes closed and your body arched in response. You tried to close your legs in reflex, but Sieun held you open for him. Your knees were pressed against his thighs, the strength of them effectively holding them open, restricting any movement.

His fingers fuck in and out of you faster and faster, circling your clit in a matching pace with his thumb. You were soaked at this point, wetness dripping down the side of your thighs.

A slow, pulsing heat built low in your stomach, spreading through you like a wave. Your body felt flushed, every nerve lit with anticipation. From above, Sieun let out a low hum and the sound alone sent a shiver skimming down your spine.

Your fingers curled tight into the sheets, knuckles pale with tension, eyes still closed. “You’re so good to me.” You gasped, your voice airy and trembling. “Thank you… thank you,” You repeated, the words slipping out in broken whispers as the heat built inside you, rushing towards your climax.

A groan slipped from Sieun’s mouth as he quickened his pace, breath catching. The room filled with the slick, rhythmic sounds between you…. wet, breathless, raw — blending with your moans.

Your gaze flicked up to Sieun, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. His brow was faintly furrowed, jaw tight, as if he was carefully holding himself together. He was watching you, reading you. Every breath, every sound you made mattered. Like he didn’t want to miss a single part of you unraveling beneath him. His hand didn’t waver. He moved with quiet confidence now, like instinct had taken over.

His eyes stayed on yours, wide and unblinking, lit with a kind of quiet intensity. That look, those beautiful eyes of his, your favorite thing about him, held so much in them now. Not just focus, not just care, but something deeper. It felt like he was trying to hold you together with just his gaze, even as you were starting to fall apart beneath him.

Chorus of moans left your mouth, and you felt yourself slipping, your body tensing under the growing wave. Sieun’s gaze, locked with yours, full of warmth and something unspoken, held you there as you finally climax.

Your body shook uncontrollably, thighs tensing underneath his as intense pleasure crashed through you. Sieun’s fingers continued to fuck you throughly, only slowing when your hands went up and scratches his shoulder, your whole body twitching in overstimulation.

His name tumbled from your lips just as he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was all heat and desperation. His tongue pushed past your lips with a hunger that made your breath catch, the kiss messy and deep, like he couldn’t get close enough fast enough.

The room felt too small for how much heat passed between you. His mouth moved from yours to your neck, your shoulder, then back again, each kiss more urgent than the last.

Sieun backed away to fully removed his underwear. His cock sprang free, pre-cum running down to his base. He pumped himself a few times, spreading the wetness evenly.

“I don’t have a condom.” He said suddenly, eyes wide in realization.

“Don’t need one,” You whispered, breath hitching as your legs pulled him in closer. “I’m on the pill.”

You saw relief flashes in his eyes for a second. Slowly, still giving you time to pull away if you changed your mind, he spread your legs further and let himself rest against your pussy. With one hand, he tapped the tip of his solid cock on your swollen clit before rubbing it up and down your slit, lining up with your entrance. You shuttered at the contact. He presses his lips to your forehead as he slowly pushed inside, easing you into gently.

Your hands found his hair, fingers tightening as the ache of the stretch settled in. It was sharp at first, pulling a soft gasp from your throat. But slowly, steadily, the pain began to dull, warmth overtaking the sting. You were grateful he’d taken his time, that his fingers had eased you open before this. He pressed in deeper, slow and steady, until you felt completely full. There was no space left between you.

Sieun stayed still for a moment, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his breath uneven against your cheek. His arms trembled slightly where they held him up, muscles tense, like he was holding himself back with everything he had. You could see it in the way his jaw clenched, in the way his brows pulled together. He was fighting the urge to move, afraid of pushing too far, of hurting you.

His eyes met yours, soft and searching.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, his voice low and careful, but so full of feeling it made your chest ache.

You nodded, your fingers brushing against his cheek, grounding him. “I’m okay.” You whispered back. “Please, move.”

He nodded slowly, biting his lower lip. When he moved again, it was careful and tender. His lips found your cheek, then your jaw, then just beneath your ear, leaving soft, lingering kisses in his wake. Each one felt like a quiet promise. You felt his breath stutter, heard the soft sounds slipping from his throat. It was helpless, like he couldn’t hold them back.

You turned your face into his neck, your lips brushing his skin as you breathed out. “You feel so good.”

Sieun let out a broken moan, one hand slipping to your waist to hold you more firmly, more securely, but still with that same gentleness. The love in his touch was undeniable. It wrapped around you just as tightly as his fingers did.

The rhythm between you began to shift. It was still tender, but deeper now, more insistent. Sieun’s breath hitched as he adjusted his grip on your waist, drawing you a little closer beneath him. His movements grew more fluid, not driven by urgency, but by a need to feel you fully. To be closer. To give you everything he could.

You felt it in the way his hips moved, more certain now. In the low, quiet sounds falling from his mouth, soft and aching, almost reverent. His forehead rested against yours for a breath, his eyes fluttering shut as if the feeling overwhelmed him too. He set a steady pace, rolling his hips into you over and over, the feeling of him pumping in and out of you felt euphoric

Your body moved with his naturally, like you were made for this closeness. He kissed you again, messier this time, his lips parting yours with more heat and more need. His left hand cupped one of your breasts in his wide palm, running his thumb over your nipple. Your head was spinning, lost in the pleasure he was giving you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you cried out when he reached deeper, hitting a delicious spot inside of you that made you incredibly wetter.

He whispered your name once, barely audible, like it had slipped out without meaning to. Like it was a prayer he didn’t know he was saying.

When your eyes opened to meet his again, the pace didn’t falter. If anything, it grew more intense. Sieun found both of your hands and pinned them beside your head, his fingers laced with yours. Your bodies moved in sync, fast and slow all at once, dizzying yet steady, grounded in the way he held you like he couldn’t bear to let go. The upward curve of his cock continued to hit that spot inside of you and you felt the tension in your stomach growing incredibly tensed, like it was about to snap.

You hold Sieun’s hand harder. “I’m gonna cum.” You whimpered, lips trembling. He cursed when you squeezed tightly around him. The sound of skin slapping echoed through the room, and your gasps turned to full on cries as he pounded into you more eagerly.

You moaned into the shell of his ear as the pressure blew, your whole body tensing before letting go. Sieun fucked you through it, helping you ride the wave of your toe-curling orgasm. He buried his face in your neck as his hips lost their rhythm, messily and urgently pumping into you now. His hips came to an abrupt stop as he released into you, multiple desperate whimpers leaving his mouth. You could feel the twitching of his cock as warmth filled deep inside your belly.

You untangled your hands, sliding one into his hair and the other across his back, pulling him closer as your chests rose and fell with heavy breaths. Both of you were breathless, your skin damp with sweat. His face remained buried in your neck, and your legs hung loosely around his waist. You pressed a tender kiss to the side of his head. “I love you.” You whispered, quiet and shaky.

The words hung between you, delicate but powerful. For a second, Sieun didn’t move, like they were sinking into him, wrapping around whatever was left of his breathless high. Then he slowly lifted his head from your neck. His hair was damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed and his eyes were dazed with afterglow. They looked softer than you’d ever seen them. Full of something open and unguarded. Tender.

He leaned in and kissed you. Slow this time. Not desperate or hungry like before, but sweet. “I love you too.” He said, voice low and rough around the edges, but deep with emotion.

Neither of you moved for a long time after that.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

A few months after….

You walked hand in hand with Sieun, your steps slow and tired after the long day at school. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden light over everything. The weather was perfect, the kind that made you forget all your worries for a little while. Baku, Gotak, and Juntae walked beside you, their laughter echoing through the street as they teased one another. Everything felt easy and happy.

Then Sieun’s phone rang.

He glanced at the screen and picked up, answering with a quiet. “Hello?” At first, his expression barely changed, but then something shifted. A flicker of confusion passed through his eyes, then widened into disbelief.

When the call ended, he turned to all of you, his voice unsteady but clear. “He’s awake.”

That was all he said before grabbing your hand and running. The others followed without hesitation.

You arrived at the hospital breathless, your feet skidding to a stop outside in the courtyard. There, sitting in a wheelchair beneath the spring sun, was Suho. He wore a gray sweatshirt over his hospital clothes, pale but alive, his head tilted slightly in the breeze.

You slowly slipped your hand from Sieun’s and gave him the softest nudge forward.

He didn’t rush. He moved like the world had slowed down, like he wasn’t sure if what he saw was real. Suho suddenly turned his head and saw him.

“How’s it going?” He said, as casually as if no time had passed at all.

Sieun froze for a moment, overwhelmed. Suho’s gaze drifted past him to the group gathered behind, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Who are they?”

Sieun turned slightly to glance back at all of you, then looked at you a moment longer.

“My friends.” He said. Then, quieter, more certain. “And my girlfriend.”

Suho’s lips curled into a tired smile, eyes crinkling with quiet joy. He had always wanted one thing for Sieun—to not be alone, to find his own kind of happiness. And now, standing there with all of you behind him, Sieun had found it.

“That’s good to see.” Suho said softly.

Sieun didn’t answer with words.

He just smiled.

THE END

[whereisthemask]

Wachowski bro shenanigans

Just a very short random stream of consciousness bit of Wachowski family bonding (below the cut)

-

“What’s going on here?” Tom asked with a smile as he and Maddie returned to the clearing where they’d had their picnic earlier in the day, Ozzie excitedly running up to nuzzle Sonic’s hand.

“Knuckles is training us in sneak attacks,” Sonic smirked, looking over at the red echidna standing on alert several feet away, “Well, he was. Now Tails is just trying to sneak up on him. This is attempt numero…ah, I lost count.”

Maddie and Tom exchanged a small smile and a shrug. Their boys played games ranging from totally normal to truly bizarre. This was pretty low on the bizarre scale, comparatively speaking.

There was a rustle in the trees up ahead, Knuckles looking sharply towards the sound, and another a few seconds later.

And then suddenly a bundle of orange fluff dropped down on top of him from the opposite direction, laughing with delight, “Haha! You’ve been snuck!”

“Oh no!” Knuckles cried dramatically, “I have indeed been snuck! I am dishonoured! I must have vengeance!”

He suddenly reached up and began to tickle Tails, making him giggle and fall off Knuckles onto the ground, where Knuckles continued to tickle the young fox.

“Nooo!” Tails gasped between laughs, “Sonic, help!”

Sonic broke into a grin, patting Ozzie on the head, “Sorry, Oz. I gotta go save my lil’ bro! Comin’ in hot!”

In a flash, he had tackled the echidna off Tails and the two proceeded to playfully wrestle each other. As always, Sonic didn’t use his full speed and Knuckles didn’t use his full strength, the two holding back just a bit less than they did with Tails.

The fox laughed, “Don’t worry! I’m gonna help!”

Who Tails was helping was a mystery. He mostly just seemed to intent on jumping on them both, or maybe going in for a group hug. Their youngest son really liked hugs.

Maddie smiled fondly, leaning into her husband and wrapping an arm around his waist.

She loved moments like these. No danger, nothing getting destroyed, none of them suffering from the anxieties and fears that came from the difficult pasts they’d all endured. Just her family, together, enjoying a day in the woods on a warm, sunny day.

“Come on, kids!” Tom called out over the ongoing game, “Gotta get going now if we wanna get to the store for popcorn before it closes.”

“Movie night with no popcorn?!” Sonic cried dramatically, “We gotta motor!”

“Yeah!” Tails laughed, flying up excitedly. Maddie was starting to think flying when he was happy was instinctive.

“The floor is lava!” Sonic yelled, jumping upwards, Tails automatically catching him.

“Deception!” Knuckles declared, and jumped up to grab Sonic’s ankles, drawing a yelp from both the fox and the hedgehog.

“Both of you? Really?” Tails muttered, breathless but amused.

“You said you wanted to work your tails out more,” Sonic replied, “Think I’m gonna be twice as tall by the time we get to the car.”

“And my arms are gonna be twice as long…”

“Are we even moving forward?” Knuckles teased, “I do not feel I am moving at all.”

“Maybe if you weren’t a million percent muscle…” Tails replied, then fell silent as he focused on the effort of carrying both his brothers at the same time.

He didn’t quite make it even halfway to the car before setting them gently down and collapsing, only for Knuckles to lift him up and carry him on his shoulders, declaring his effort to have been “Valiant for one so very small.”

“Feels like they’ve been brothers forever, doesn’t it?” Tom smiled fondly over at their kids, laughing together as Sonic ran a couple of rings around Knuckles and Tails.

“It really does,” Maddie slipped her hand into his, “They got used to it more quickly than I thought.”

“Is that a mark of our good parenting, or their adaptability?”

“Both?”

“I’ll take both.”

“Mom, dad! Who’s turn is it to pick the movie tonight?” Sonic called over as they approached the car.

“Knuckles!” Maddie called back, then at a more normal volume when they got to the kids, “Any thoughts on what you wanna watch, Knuckles?”

“Wade has informed me that I must watch the films of the Quentin Tarantino.”

Tom suppressed a grimace, “Uh…well, they’re probably up your street, but maybe not for family movie night.”

“They’re a bit too violent for an 8 year old,” Maddie added.

The kid had seen real life violence before, sure, but that didn’t mean he should have seen it. Or been part of it.

“It’s okay,” Tails piped up, hopping off Knuckles’ shoulders into the back of the truck, “I don’t mind going upstairs or to the garage to work on my inventions if Knuckles wants to watch one of those films.”

“No way, little bro!” Sonic jumped in after him, wrapping an arm around the kit’s shoulders, “It’s family movie night. That means all the family, you included. Knux can watch Tarantino films another time and pick something with less graphic violence for tonight. Like a Bond film or superhero movie…oooh! What about Pacific Rim? Got action, massive monster dudes, and giant robots! Trust me, Knux, you’ll love it! The fight scenes are awesome! And Tails will probably be taking notes on the mech stuff!”

“I accept the recommendation!” Knuckles declared, leaping into the truck to drape an arm around both the fox and hedgehog, making the kit laugh, his shame at being ‘too young’ for the first suggestion overcome by amusement, “Let us watch the rim of pacific!”

As she got into the car, Maddie caught the proud smile Tom gave Sonic at his quick thinking. Choosing a film that Knuckles would really enjoy, but that wouldn’t leave Tails out. Their first kid really had matured a lot in just a short space of time.

Sonic was really good at looking out for his brothers, and generally on point when it came to picking out games, TV and films that Tails and Knuckles would like, and Pacific Rim was no exception.

Knuckles sat forward on the couch and cheered or narrated through the fight sequences, while Tails’ features lit up with excitement at all the mechanical stuff, occasionally accompanied by a quiet exclamation of “Woah!” or “So cool!”

The kids went to bed chattering about the film, Sonic and Knuckles acting some of the fight moves of the robots on the way towards the attic, Tails musing about if the Jaegers could even work in real life.

“We might hafta put an upper size limit on his inventions,” Tom whispered, “Ideally before he builds a Jaeger.”

-

[loucifersbitch]

from the ashes

bobbytommy | rated M | 1k words | (also on ao3)

the first time tommy and bobby got off together, they hadn't met yet. they were just two guys at a bar - one so deep in the closet he could barely look at the men in the room, and the other so guilt-ridden and deep in his grief that he broke his sobriety a week before his first day of work

they didn't even exchange words. a look passed between them, and one head nod later, they were in the back alley behind the bar, jerking each other off desperately

even when they were finished, they still didn't say anything. they wiped their hands on their jeans and went their separate ways, neither planning to think of the other ever again, save the errant late-night, lonely shower

but a few days later when they were once again seated next to each other, sharing drinks and no words, it happened again. that time, they ended up at bobby's apartment, crashing through the door, shoving each other into walls, nearly knocking over a table before collapsing into the bed

tommy didn't stay the night, but he did begin to wonder about the mysterious man sound asleep in the bed who never talked and whose apartment was devoid of any decor or homey accents

they saw each other one final time that week. if tommy went to the bar every night hoping to run into the sad man whose mouth made tommy feel things he'd never experienced before, that was his business

when they fell into bed that night, tommy let the man kiss him until his lips were swollen and sore. he prepped tommy carefully and methodically, so gentle that tommy couldn't decide if he wanted to cry or run away. it had taken tommy some time to get used to bottoming. he still wasn't completely comfortable with it, but it felt really fucking good to cum on a cock, so he pushed the thoughts aside and allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of his mystery man moving inside him

"will you stay?" the man asked him when they were done

that was dangerous. tommy never stayed. it was one of his rules for hookups like this. but he was tired, and he was starting to trust this man the more they saw each other, so he said, "okay"

waking up the next morning was disconcerting until he recognized the bare walls and squeaky mattress. the other side of the bed was empty, but he could hear the shower in the small en suite

he knocked, unsure if he'd be welcome, but the man invited him in immediately. the shower pressure was damn near perfect, and the man's hands went into his hair, massaging in shampoo and helping him rinse before doing the same with the conditioner. tommy returned the gesture, being as gentle as he could, and hoping the man was starting to feel even a little of what tommy was

"i have to go to work, but you're welcome to stay as long as you like," the man said, shutting off the water and grabbing two towels that had seem better days

"thanks," tommy said, drying off. "i gotta get to work, too." he should just leave it at that. he shouldn't push, but - "can i get your number? and maybe your name while we're at it?"

the man smiled at the question, the first real smile tommy thought he'd ever seen from him outside of sex

"bobby. i'm bobby," he said, walking out of the bathroom toward the kitchen. he grabbed a sticky note and pen, scribbling quickly before handing the paper to tommy. "that's my number. i'm starting a new job, and i work long hours, but if you leave a message, i'll call back"

"cool," tommy nodded, accepting the note with bobby's number scrawled hastily across. "i'm tommy, by the way"

"nice to officially meet you, tommy," bobby smirked, quickly closing the distance between them and pushing tommy back against the wall, kissing him deeply

they stood there for a moment after they pulled away, both breathing heavily. tommy really didn't have time for anything more than a few kisses at the moment. he really did need to get moving if he was going to make his shift on time

then bobby blinked and shook his head, looking away

"i really do need to go"

he kissed tommy one last time, hand traveling from his neck, down his chest to his abs, causing tommy to shiver

they both got dressed after that, hastily throwing on clothes and watches and shoes, grabbing wallets and cellphones before heading out into the hallway

why was leaving suddenly so difficult? tommy didn't get attached like this. better go while he can

"i'll uh - i'll see you later, bobby"

he turned to leave, but bobby grabbed his hand, spinning him back around and surprising him with his strength when he was pulled back into a kiss

"see you, tommy. don't forget to call"

"wouldn't dream of it," he smirked

he finally walked away, only looking back once - okay, twice - before he turned the corner and walked down the stairs and outside

sitting in his truck on the way to the station, he couldn't get bobby's smile out of his mind. it was distracting

he shook his head, trying to clear the image away. he couldn't be distracted while on the job. it could mean devastation for himself or his team, and he was not going to let that happen

he pulled into the parking lot, heading to the locker room to change into his uniform, nodding to the guys and hen as he passed them

"you're in a good mood," howie said. "good night?"

"yeah," tommy agreed genuinely. "it was actually really nice"

"mm," he hummed. then lowering his voice, he asked, "new guy?"

howie was one of the few people who knew, and tommy trusted him implicitly

he looked around to make absolutely sure no one could hear him, then said, "i think so? this one seems...i don't know. he's different"

"that's good, tommy. i'm happy for you," howie slapped him on the shoulder. "and i really hope it works out"

tommy laughed, "yeah, me too"

he finished getting dressed, feeling like things might finally be falling into place

[y0ur-loca1-lyr3]

“I’m cold.”

A/N: get ready ladies, gents, and nonbinary friends, this one’s gonna HURT.

Pairing; Dabi x reader

Summary; You have gotten close to the hero commission via undercover mission, because Tomura wanted to use you as leverage for a future mission. The only flaw of his plan is Dabi

Warnings ; the angstiest angst that’ll ever angst, fighting, dabi having emotional attachments 😨, and dabi not communicating for shit

Song inspo; Transparent Soul - WILLOW

You were going to die today.

Shigaraki had put you and Dabi on the same mission and given you clear instructions that since you had spent months undercover, getting to know the heroes, that you would be “taken hostage” and used as leverage in front of the heroes. Shigaraki thought that if they threatened to kill one of their own maybe they’d willingly hand over allmight thinking they could save him in the long run and that would give him the opening to finally kill allmight.

This plan required your judgement however, since you know the heroes best. If you felt like they weren’t going to take the baitc you would say ‘I’m cold’ and after Dabi was given strict instructions to set you ablaze without a second thought.

That’s the problem.

You and Dabi didn’t seem all that close from the bickering back and fourth across the bar, constant one-upping of each other, and the hateful glared which could cut through a man walking by in sight, but Dabi… cared. There wasn’t another word to describe it but care. He hated that he did, and so he hates you, but that won’t change the fact that he grows worried when you come back late from a mission, or that he hates when you smoke even though he also smokes. Sure, he hated when you gave him that stupid fucking grin when you were right, but it’s not gonna stop him from draping his jacket over you when you pass out drunk as hell on the couch.

So hearing you say those words, he froze.

“I’m cold.”

It was like a shot to his chest. His hand shook, and his eyes grew foggy for the first time in… ages. Fucking ages.

“I said, I’m cold.”

His body froze like he didn’t know what to do. What the hell was he doing? He was gonna blow the mission if he didn’t do something.

“Dabi.”

Mind you, he was the man who disintegrated people with his flames just because he had a mildly inconvenient day, and now he just couldn’t?

“Dabi! I said I’m cold!”

You tried to snap him out of it, watching him as he looked down at you with a glisten in his eyes, his hand approaching you as you shut your eyes and said your apologies to everyone in your head, waiting for the slow pain of being burnt.

But it never came. Instead, his hand flung a large wall of flame, grabbing your wrist and running away into an alley way, scrambling the both of you into the nooks and crannies of the allies which were almost like a maze to anyone unfamiliar to the city.

You stood there, shocked, confused, angry. He just completely blown the mission and both of them in serious trouble with Tomura. “What the FUCK?!” You yelled at him, shoving him back as he faced you to get a fraction of your anger out, “You blew it! What the hell are we gonna tell Shigaraki when I come alive, and we don’t have allmight, huh?!” You asked him, waiting with an impatient tap of your foot. He had his head casted down, his hands shoved into his pockets. He had his own brew of anger in his stomach, a scowl twisting his lips bitterly, “And you think he’d react any better if you were dead and I didn’t come back with him?!” He retorted, his glare sharp and fierce.

“He would’ve been a bit less mad if you had followed his instructions-“

“What, and your life is worth less than dealing with a lecture from Shigaraki?!” He interrupted you, his patience wearing thin while he began walking back to the lair, leaving you to speed walk beside him to keep up with him, “drop it. Shigaraki clearly didn’t think through his plan, anyway.” He seethed, his gaze fixed on the pavement of the alleyways. You sighed heavily and kept quiet for the rest of the walk, the tension in the air thick enough to grab and snap in half.

⟢ ⟢ ⟢ ⟢ ⟢

“What the HELL were you thinking?!” Shigaraki snapped at them, his tone making you flinch slightly, “Both of you! You could’ve saved this mission if you just went back there!”

You blinked slightly, containing your temper for when you were up in your room where you could scream and blast music, “Sir, with all due respect, there was a fire-“

“I don’t fucking care what you have to say, you could’ve done something to snap this idiot back this idiot into the right mind!” He barked at you. Oh, how badly you wanted to smash his head into that fucking counter, but… you bit your tongue and nodded, looking down and shoving your hands in your pocket. “And you…”Shigaraki’s wrath whipped over to Dabi, while Dabi rolled his eyes and silently groaned, giving Shigaraki an indignant glare, “You screwed over the entire mission in the first place! What, don’t tell me the big bad mass murder has gone soft.” Shigaraki seethed, picking Dabi’s shocked expression before Dabi snapped at him the words falling out of his mouth like vomit, “You know what, so what if I have, alright? Yeah, I fucking care. Sorry I guess for holding onto the one thing that makes me feel like I’m not some monster! Sorry for holding onto the one person in my life who I love that hasn’t died in front of my eyes!!”

…Silence.

Shigaraki seemed shocked, but not as shocked as you. It was conflicting. Too conflicting. Not here, not now, you couldn’t just process your feelings like that.

“…I’m going up to my room.” You muttered, speed walking to the solice which nothing but heavy metal and the blankets on your bed could provide. The only kind of solice which could let you pour all your tears out, from the mission, from the lecture, hell, just from the pleasure of it all.

“Shit, I- wait, damnit!” Dabi scrambled, what he thought was his own fear slapping him across the face. His face looked like he watched you kick a puppy, for once something other than some monotone, or shit eating grin. You hated him now.

You didn’t feel the same.

⟢ ⟢ ⟢ ⟢ ⟢

A/N; …ow.