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e1dritchjackal0pe · 3 months ago

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𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝓢𝓽𝓻𝓪𝔂

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You always knew deep down that getting involved with the Kook prince himself would result in nothing but heartache. Unsurprisingly, like an absolute sucker you had allowed yourself to get pulled into his orbit, hook, line and sinker.

The two of you were always unlabeled, two people just trying to take the edge off; so it shouldn't have stung when you caught him with another girl on his arm. But it's completely unfair when he comes crawling back as soon as you attempt to move on.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Rafe, 18+ content (so minors go somewhere else), AFAB, fem aligning pronouns, toxic relationships, lack of communication, infidelity if you really squint, stalking, hints of dark!Rafe, Soft!Rafe (because I'm a sucker), Rafe refers to himself as Daddy once (I'm sorry, it's so in character), Oral (F! Receiving), Unprotected sex (reader is on the pill), public sex (they do it in a bathroom at a party), dubious consent (both Rafe and reader are intoxicated).

ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: 25K words (the Lana Del Ray and Chase Atlantic continuously playing in my headphones wouldn't let me stop). Not proofread (as per usual, I'm sorry), Pogue!reader.

You love your life. The simultaneous merge of monotony and spontaneity. Sure, it is boring in certain aspects. The schedule of your job demanding that you wake up nearly every day of the week, pulling yourself out of the warmth and comfort of your bed before the sun has even bled across the horizon in hues of pale gold and soft lavender to begin opening up the restaurant; passing through the door that always squeals sharply on its hinges. No amount of WD-40 has managed to correct the offending, metallic shriek, but Deborah, ever the penny-pincher always brushes off the notion of simply replacing the hinges. Huffing and shrugging it off whenever you suggest it. One of these days you plan to go down to the hardware store yourself and buy a fresh set of replacements.

The ritual of your mornings is often tedious. The one before it the same as the one that comes after; setting the chairs down from their places tucked upside down on the tabletops to be seated on their designated positions on the floor, turning the coffee machines on to begin brewing a fresh pot for the early risers and regulars that stop in for a quick uplift before they head off to their jobs, checking to make sure that you had properly stocked up the night before you left; that the sliced lemons and creamers and ketchup bottles have all been filled. You sometimes have a habit of accidentally skipping out those tasks when you've been on a double. Sometimes on purpose if you know that you're going to be the opener the very next day.

Though more often than not it ends up with you cursing yourself out for leaving more unnecessary work for yourself.

You're at your job more than you're at your own home. But with how high Deborah's turn rates are, and how little people do actually come in to retrieve an application, it's practically been up to you to try and hold down the fort as best as possible. Apart from Charlotte, who does her best to cover as many shifts as she can (though that isn't always possible if one of her kids falls sick or the babysitter calls off), and Rusty. But as the main cook, he practically lives in the restaurant to begin with. So much so, that it has become a joke among the staff that he should just call it quits and put up a cot in the back so that he could takes naps in between shifts. He's always at the restaurant long before you are. Piddling around in the back of the house to get a head start on the day ahead and prepping for what he'll need.

It's dull work, sure, and the breaks that you get are few and far between, but the threat of oncoming bills always looming overhead like a fucking hydra. As soon as you manage to cut off one head, another immediately seems to grow in its place. Plus, you also have a difficult time in saying no to Deborah. You think everyone does honestly. She could be hard to navigate at times, seeming to seesaw between being almost sickeningly sweet and intimidatingly disgruntled. Skulking around the restaurant with a sharp anger glinting in her eyes, a harsh scowl pulling at the wrinkled corners of her lips as she barks orders and huffs over crumbs and stains that aren't there.

But you try, like the others, not to hold it against her. You know that she's just stressed. Struggling to pick up the pieces that her son had left behind; to keep his dream alive as best as she can.

Still, you can't help but to revel in any chance you get to have a day to yourself. Even though the reprieve that you do get is typically spent at your own home. Basking outside underneath the warmth while you soak in the small layer of water contained in the old sun faded kiddie pool, reading one of your unfinished books, or reclining against the lip of the hard plastic while the music from your old Bluetooth speaker drifts down from the steps of the small, worn porch attached to the front of your trailer.

Every once in a while, if your budget is willing, you might head down to the quaint thrift store that lies just on the outskirts of town. Though calling it a "store" is being quite generous. It's pretty much just a shed that had been repurposed as a business in Metilda Clark's backyard; the walls boarded with shelves for books and DVD's and VHS tapes, and racks filled with garments donated from families whose children have grown out of their clothes or family members that have passed on and they can't bear to look at their personal belongings anymore.

So you suppose that in a sense, it's a graveyard of sorts. A place for people to bury or move on from their pasts without entirely discarding the items that they need to be free from. Given that that a large chunk of the island's population is in part of the working class, a vast amount of the wares and goods found at the store are a little lackluster. Every once in a while, you manage to find something good. A piece of clothing or shoes that have managed to trickle down from the Eight, like a pair of vintage heels that you were able to snag for twenty-five bucks. But for the most part it's just plain knickknacks, fishing lines and old bodice rippers - many of which are wildly amusing to flip through.

If only you had a nickel for every time you had seen a man's dick referred to as a "pulsing hot member" or "engorged manhood." It never fails to remind you of Ms. Perky from Ten Things I Hate About You trying to write smut in her office.

Still, it does sometimes prove to yield some interesting finds. Like the magenta lava lamp that now sits on the shelf posted along the far side of your room or the rooster shaped tea pot that you always use on stormy nights. That purchase might have been a little dumb, just maybe, but you had thought it was cute when you saw it.

But if you're being honest, you mostly go to the thrift store for the small ceramic bowl full of candy that Metilda keeps along the front counter; always full of strawberry bon bons, Tootsie Rolls, and hard caramels. You always make sure to pluck one up as she tallies up your purchase on her archaic cash register, squinting through her glasses as her bony fingers skitter across the buttons while she shares the latest bit of gossip to you. She's always in the know it seems, like some sort of P.I . . . or maybe Batman. It's almost a talent. But you suppose that being a member of the church, the local book club, and attending bingo every weekend would get you in on a lot of the gossip that circles around town.

It's how you found out the Janice Morty was cheating on her husband of twenty-three years with his own brother, or that Sammy Kennedy has been breeding and selling exotic reptiles in his basement illegally. Sometimes you'd find yourself standing in front of that little desk long after your purchase had been bagged and paid for, just listening intently as she gives you the scoop on everything. Watching the earrings dangling from her lobes quiver and shake animatedly as she passionately recounts all of the drama she's heard - she's always got a new, fun pair on every time you see her. Many of them are retro, 80's style, but a large majority are shaped after everyday objects. One of your favorites so far would have to be the odd pair of small rotating fans, colored in that vintage mint green shade with pink blades. But the fuchsia gumball machines have to be a close second.

You love to come in and see what pair she's going to be wearing, to hear all of the local drama. But the sound of a single name had made you regret the trip entirely.

"- all of a sudden the screen had lit up! Just set alight without any warning." She recounted, tucking a book alongside the others inside of the recycled bag, the wrinkles in the plastic causing the smiley face to become disfigured. "Well, one of my customers saw the culprits - or at least who they suspect to be. They saw a big group of them scatter once the chaos erupted; that Thorton boy, and old Heyward's kid was there. And even Rafe Cameron, that spoiled little nuisance -"

Your brain had blanked then. Falling flat and somehow chaotic like static filming over a TV screen. It had made it difficult to tell what you were truly feeling in that moment as it all seemed to crash over you into a still hush. But the elements of it all was certainly there: irritation, resentment, and that pathetic sense of longing that never seems to truly go away. It sticks to you like a nasty parasite. Burrowed deep and latched onto your flesh, the disease in it seeping into your bloodstream.

No matter how much you try, it seems that you can't get away from him. The woes of living in a small community. It feels like a sort of damnation. A limbo that you can crawl yourself out of. You've gotten so close to it too. All but throwing yourself into your work - even more so than usual, if that was possible. It was to the point that your coworkers have begun to notice. You can see the way they all watch you curiously as you talk to your tables and flit about the dining room floor. Charlotte had even thrown away any attempts at subtly and had directly confronted you about your "situation." Claiming that you've seemed distracted as of late. Tense. And shit, maybe you have been a little uptight lately. Forcing plastic smiles and pretending that there isn't a hurt that's aching deep in the pit of your chest. You had promised her that you were alright, while the words felt fake, almost acidic on your tongue. She hadn't looked convinced.

You had been doing good at pretending that you're alright. For the most part at least. With the distraction of your job and lounging around at home, diverting your attentions with old comedies and comfort watching the same old TV shows, you had nearly convinced yourself that you were alright. Though you mostly owed that to your recent proclivity for eating your feelings with Ben and Jerry's and sunbathing. Cliche, maybe. But effective. Indulging and pampering yourself has become your new means of deflecting the heartbreak that you so desperately want to pretend isn't there. And it had been working so well too.

Until Matilda had to go and ruin it. The sound of his name leaving her red lips might as well as been nails on a chalk board. You know it was well meaning. There is no way that she would know, not even with all of the tabs and connections she's got running through the island. And that had been the point of it all. There was no label for whatever the two of you had been. The only agreement there was that your "relationship" - friends with benefits or whatever you were - was to remain on the down-low. A quiet, airtight secret lest the population of Kildare become privy to the fact that the Kook prince himself had been fucking a Pogue.

It had been fine in the beginning. Well, not exactly fine. If someone were to ask you how you had begun seeing Rafe Cameron of all people, you wouldn't have a good answer. You yourself aren't entirely sure. It had sort of just happened. Like a wildfire that had grown out of control. The both of you have always been at each other's throats. The bullshit roles thrusted upon you by the divide of the classes on the island seeming to demand that you be enemies. Though he was more interested in maintaining those characters than you.

You had never cared much for the Kook vs Pogue ideal. It seems archaic, tired and outdated. An unnecessary dissection that often gets grossly out of hand by the other locals. Sometimes violently so, with the clashes ending in busted lips and bloodied knuckles. Not too long ago a fight had broken out during an after-storm party, where it was claimed that a gun had been drawn and fired. Just another reason why you found the blatant classism in the town to be entirely too much and downright threatening at times.

But no one else believed in it more than Rafe Cameron. Topper Thronton might give him a run for his money, but you'd still have to give the victory to the prince himself. That's why it came to a complete shock to your own system when your relationship with had gone from scathing, sardonic quips and passive aggressive remarks to something balancing on almost playful. You had seemed to dangle precariously between that fine line, rocking back and forth between a genuine disdain and a delicate sort of camaraderie.

It was an explosive mix that was just waiting for the trigger. And the anticipation of it had suspended over you like the humidity that taints the air outside, like the heavy quiet before a great storm before the lashing and booming of lightning and thunder rattles across the sky. Still, the both of you had blindly ignored the signs - the fleeting glances, the jealously that would fester in your gut whenever you saw him with someone else, the way that he would seek you out while you worked to hover over you as you poured sugar into shakers or bussed tables after your customers left. Hiding his interest in the guise of immature taunts and corny insults. And you'd do your best to deny the temptation suspended over you, writing it off as hatred and irritation whenever you crossed paths.

You would see Rafe sparingly in your day-to-day life. Though he would fleetingly come into the restaurant every now and again. Typically to bring his newest fling in for the slices of lava cake or malted milkshakes. The Backyard Grill - or more simply, the Backyard, is a seafood restaurant first and foremost, but one thing that cannot be denied, even by the likes of the upper class, is that it has the best desserts in the entirety of Kildare Island. People of all walks of life come in to get a warm slice of apple pie, or a rich piece of red velvet.

But it's the floats and milkshakes that are the most popular. Usually among couples that are trying to have a romantic evening. Or as romantic as it can be while in the ambiance of a ramshackle dining room, with scratched, defaced tabletops that have the initials of lovers etched into the (once) polished wood, and an old A/C unit that hisses as it spits out air.

It's hardly a place that you'd imagine someone like Rafe Cameron frequenting, but he would still pop in every now and again. Usually with a new girl on his arm, trading them out as just easily as he'd change clothes.

It had made you tempted to speak up about it. To dare to make a subtle warning in the guise of a joke to clue the girls in, but he would always look up at you with a knowing gleam in his eyes. As though he was challenging you to spill and make a scene; to give him a reason to lash out with that scornful tongue of his and somehow pin the blame back on you. It always left resentment bubbling just underneath your skin, hot and angry while you forced yourself to hold your words back, all while a sharp, mocking smile threatened to show on your face.

You had loathed when he would walk through the door. The infrequent nature of his visits making it feel like a sort of roulette as to whenever you'd hear the squeal of the hinges, and the dainty chime of the bell posted above the threshold - if it would be him passing through the door or not. Each time it was him, irritation would flare throughout you, but some traitorous feeling that you couldn't name would quickly follow; light and almost warm. Horrendously close to what could only be considered affection. You'd always shove it down as soon as you would register it.

Rafe was unpredictable. A notorious hothead with a proclivity towards handling any offence he deemed against him with violence and hostility. The echoes his past rampages are still frequently on the town's lips despite being old news. Much like the time that he had reportedly attacked Matthew Bailey in the hallway of the private school for accidentally brushing against him. In Rafe's words, Matthew had rudely shoulder checked him and tried to walk away without apologizing. Regardless, the beat down that had proceeded had been a complete overkill, with Matt ending up on the flat of his back on the floor while Rafe pinned him down and repeatedly struck his face with a closed fist. He only managed to deliver two blows from what you had heard before he was pulled back, but the force behind it had been enough that Matthew's nose is now permanently bent.

Everything about him should have repulse you. From his insistent belief that the less financially fortunate aren't as important or deserving as the wealthy, from the downright volatile way that he behaved. Like a rabid dog on a fraying lead. Morality should have been enough to repel you from him. To get you to steer clear of Rafe Cameron and pretend that he didn't exist.

But that night on the beach, with bonfires burning high along the shore like blazes and the rowdy scattering of people cheering and laughing around you, everything that had been restrained between you both seemed to finally tear free from the grip you had on it. Maybe it had been the influence of the alcohol in your system, buzzing about your veins in a rush of warmth, or a side effect of the excitement thrumming throughout the air, but when you had saw him enter through the mass of bodies, something - some kind of resistance seemed to break.

It was pitiful how your eyes had found him through the masses, fastening onto him as though he was the only thing that had mattered. But the way that the firelight had casted onto his skin had been gorgeous, panting him in hues of amber and vermillion and dramatic shadow. The traces of it glimmering clearly in his eyes, still visible from the distance that had separated you. A few strands of his hair dangling above his eyes in a way that you found a little too appealing, the glow of the flames highlighted the traces of brown and red in the strands.

It was almost offensive; how attractive he looked. Even while wearing one of those stupid polo shirts that he's so fond of. The color of it was a soft sort of blue. A shade that you knew would bring out the color of his eyes, gunmetal and baby blue.

It felt like all of the oxygen had been siphoned from your lungs when the pair of them had flickered over to you and the shadows that you had found comfort in while you watched over Becca as she danced with some random guy, her laughter twinkling over the exuberant chaos letting you know that as of now, he was being respectful and minding his manners. But being under the sudden observations of Rafe had caused the dancing and socializing around you to melt into a dull background until it was nothing but the soft sand beneath your shoes and the balmy glide of the breeze shifting over your skin, slightly damp with humidity and tinged with the salt of the waves crashing along the surf.

You had expected him then to simply alter his path and seek out some of the other Kook's that were mixed in along the crowd, but he hadn't. He kept on his trajectory, walking straight towards you, unworried as the rest of the people around you were too caught up in their own affairs or too intoxicated to notice.

There was a determination and intensity in his eyes that had made you feel uncertain. Almost awkward in your own body, leaving you to pluck at the neon glowstick bracelet around your wrist and absentmindedly swirling the mixed drink in your red solo cup, that had long since gone warm. Once he had been standing directly in front of you, the conversation that had taken place was almost delicate as it was playful. Something new was stretching out in front of you both, strange and tricky to navigate.

"Hey, Pogue," had been his greeting. As though he was trying to remind himself of who - of what you were to him. But it had been said so oddly, not laced with the usual contempt, that it nearly sounded endearing to you. It had been enough to warrant a smile, and the sight of your apparent amusement had been enough to have the tension melting from his posture. The rigid set of his shoulders sagging into something more relaxed and familiar, allowing him to settle into that arrogant stance of his.

"Hey, yourself," you responded and raised the edge of your cup to take a sip of your drink. You had to fight off the urge to wince as the alcohol went down, sharp and stinging on your tongue from the cutting edge of hot vodka and the sickly-sweet syrup of cranberry and orange juice. "What the hell are you doing here, consorting with the enemy. Try not to get to close, yeah? You might catch our diseases."

He had seemed then, to take your words as a sort of challenge. Like a raise to a sort of bet. He had stepped closer, crowding himself into your space in a way that should have felt invading, but you had only delighted in it. Free of a shirt, with only a bikini top to conceal your chest, your skin was unprotected from the subtle warmth that radiated from his body. His sudden proximity washing over you with the scent of his cologne and the gel in his hair, that seemed to have come unruffled from its usual slick back style.

You had felt hypnotized as he pulled himself closer into your presence; engulfed by the ardor in his stare. A like of which you had never seen aimed at you - not so unabashedly, at least. You had only gotten glimmers of it. Small doses given behind the cover of hard glares and snide remarks. But then, the want on his face was bare. Shown freely underneath the cover of the dark while he leaned close enough for you to feel the gentle trace of his breath on your neck. His eyes bore into your own, demanding that you meet his stare and bear the weight of it.

"Maybe I wanna get close."

It had all been a flurry after that. A rush of playfully passed words and hushed, almost covetous whispers. You had allowed him to tug you into the night, far away from the illumination of the bonfires and the possibility of seeing eyes to carve a space just for the two of you. Guiding you into the thicket of trees surrounding the festivities, far off until the laughter darting over the air and the calming rise and fall of the waves had dimmed; softening so that your focus was fixed entirely on him.

He'd taken you against a tree, fucking up into you harshly as though he'd been waiting a lifetime to do it. Splitting you open on his cock and driving his hips forward like he hated you, leaving you to claw at his back through the fabric of his shirt, nails catching and slipping up towards the nape of his neck where they left marks deep enough to have him hissing in pain. You could have felt guilty for it, but the subtle agony seemed to spur him on more. Somehow causing him to pump himself into you with a new vigor, leaving you to hang on and take it while he punched the air from your lungs. Pinned in place uselessly while the bark of the tree he had you pressed against scraped and nicked at your back. It left marks on you for nearly two weeks.

You had thought that would have been the end of it. A night of regret fueled by alcohol and hatred, but the both of you hadn't stopped afterwards. He had begun to seek you out afterwards. Not too brazenly. He couldn't have the locals of the island finding out about your little trysts. But he would often sneak up to your house, around the late hours, always long after your neighbors had tucked in to sleep and the sun was well past the horizon.

At first, it was fully apparent what he wanted from you. He'd stay long enough for the both of you to get what you wanted. A simple transaction of the flesh. The boundaries had been clear then. Just two people working out their frustrations and using each other to take the edge off. Put then he had started spending the night. You aren't sure when he had stopped leaving and begun staying over, tucking himself next to you in bed, burrowing under the covers while you watched the shitty action movies that he always requested you put on.

And pretty soon he began leaving pieces of his clothes. Small things. A shirt or two. Because he liked to see you wearing them; that's what he had told you. But then there had been pants, and the odd sock, and a few pairs of his boxers, all of which you washed with your own clothes and then kept folded in a corner of your closet.

His toothbrush was placed next yours on the bathroom counter, colored white and blue. And there was a bottle of his cologne tucked in the shelf underneath the sink, right next to some of your hygiene products and rolls of toilet paper. He kept spare shampoo in the built in shower cubby, so that he wouldn't have to use yours. He'd smell too feminine, that's what he told you.

He'd spend the night whenever things would grow to be too much with his dad. Their relationship was always so strained. So full of resentment and insecurity. He had shared that with you one night, while you were held to his chest, your head tucked just underneath his chin while you stared up at the fairy lights strung up around your room. The scent of sex was still heavy in the air, the sweat from it clinging to your skin while you counted the thrum of his heart racing under your ear, gradually mellowing out to a steady beat as your breaths calmed.

You had tried to nudge him to stop, promising that you didn't expect for him to share any of it with you. Warning him that it was just the influence of sex and the rush of dopamine and oxytocin thrumming steadily in his veins urging him to open up. You didn't want him to regret it. To regret what you had between you. But he had promised then that he wanted to. That he needed to tell someone. There had been a vulnerability in his voice that you had never heard from him before. A mild tremor as though he was trying to hold onto himself. To keep himself from potentially falling apart while he confessed about his home. How his stepmother was always present and yet entirely absent, how his father saw him as nothing but a failure, how Sarah paid him little mind. A psycho, she had called him once. But he was always sweet to you in those simple moments, when he would scatter kisses up your neck, tender and light while he drew you to him with the wide grip of his hands.

There were so many lines that had been crossed. Lines that just "fuck buddies" don't cross. Not without a clear conversation at the very least. Perhaps it had been your fault, for reading into things that weren't there. For applying meaning to all the little moments you had spent together. All of the times you had ate leftovers together in your small kitchenette, laughing and playfully insulting each other while you ate away at Chinese food or reheated burgers in between jokes. Childishly nudging at him with your foot underneath the table while he complained or made remarks about his day.

It's just fuck buddies who ask for you to pick a box of Lucky Charms during grocery runs because it's a quick meal to eat after fucking, when the weed gives him an appetite; it was just being a fuck buddy when he would lay in your arms for hours, molding himself against the shape of you to try and burrow himself along your skin, breathing tiredly into your neck; and it was perfectly casual when he bought you a necklace with a pendant of his first initial - 14 karat gold he told you. He wanted to go for 24k, but it would have been too weak and malleable, and 18k wouldn't be as scratch resistant. He wanted it to last. That's what he had said as he sucked and nipped at the skin on your neck, around the thin, golden chain; turning the flesh tender and marked.

Maybe it truly was all your fault. So you shouldn't have been at all surprised when he had ghosted you for four days straight and then you had seen him strolling around town with Casey Ellis; her head tucked into his neck while she laughed, her hand placed to his chest. She was a gorgeous girl with highlights in her hair and a body that didn't have so much as a hint of a single stretchmark or a dimple of cellulite, wearing Luis Vuitton sunglasses and an outfit that must have cost a fortune. She was perfect, and she wasn't you.

You were smart enough to connect the dots. To put two and two together. You had been replaced. Just all the girls before you had, and it made you feel like a complete idiot. How you had let yourself be so blinded by affection, to let the wool be pulled over your eyes and tricked into believing that you wouldn't fall to the same fate. Letting something that feels dangerously close to love delude you into thinking you'd be different. It dug deep. Slicing through you and reaching to grip a hold of a vulnerability that you hadn't even known was there. Still, you hardly even thought it over when you had skimmed through your contacts and blocked his number; doing it as though you had been put under a sort of spell, detached and numb while anger seared underneath it all in a burning undercurrent. You sent him a single message before cutting him off and out of your life. Affording him at least that little curtesy, unlike what he had done to you. It was curt. Cut and dry, if not just a little personal.

it's clear that you've found another person to cry to and fuck. that means we're done. Dont come back

Was it a little juvenile? Perhaps. But it had felt good, even if you hadn't done it face to face. But he didn't deserve that much. And it was nice to be so detached about it. To do something as shitty as cutting things off over a text message. It was disrespectful, a slap to the face, and you hoped that it had hurt and confused him. That his brows had pinched in the way that they do when he's bewildered, that he had paced around his room and combed his fingers through his hair while he read those letters over and over again as though it would help him make sense of it.

You had ignored the curious, perplexed stares of your neighbors when you threw his clothes and toothbrush into the containment of the firepit behind your trailer, dousing them with lighter fluid and setting them alight. It had felt therapeutic to watch it all burn. Charring around the edges and turning black as it melted from the unforgiving heat to turn into an indiscernible pile. You'd like wish that the memories with him would do the very same, but you've had no such luck yet.

But it's difficult to forget someone when they're determined to be remembered. Skulking about like a wild dog in the shadows, wandering up to your door in the night, pawing to be let in. The first week after you had cut ties, he had shown up at your trailer, forgoing all attempts at being quiet to bang his fist on your front door. Loud enough to all but tear you from your sleep, causing you to jerk up with a gasp, your heart thumping wildly in your ears as his muffled voice bled past the walls.

"C'mon, baby! Listen - I - I know I fucked up, but we can work past this, alright?" A dull bang had punctuated it, and it left you to wonder if he had dropped his forehead against the door, defeated and desperate. Good. "It's not that - can't we just back to the way things were?"

You had ignored his please to be heard and turned over in your bed. Drowning out the sound of his voice by turning on the TV and waiting him out until he left, deterred only by one of your neighbors' dogs, agitated by the sound of his shouting. After that he only tried to approach you one more time. Turning up at you job and all but ambushing you once you stepped out into the parking lot. You had done your best to ignore him. To keep the venom and contempt that longed to rise up past your lips as he trailed after you like a shadow, demanding that you stopped and just listened to him while you beelined for your car at the far end of the dirt lot.

He had only touched you once you clutched your keys and turned them into the lock and reached for the door handle, grabbing ahold of your shoulders to shove your back to the driver side door, caging you in with his body while he clutched at you like a drowning man reaching for a buoy in a storm. You swear that there were tears in his eyes then, glinting in the dim cast of the nearby streetlamps. The emotion in his voice had been so raw. Broken, as though he was hanging on by a thread and just barely holding himself together. It made you feel like you were being dragged under.

"Just look at me - just let me speak, okay?" His words nearly melded together in a quick rush, as though he couldn't spit them up fast enough. But your heart was in your throat, adrenalin running rampant in your veins while you stared into his eyes. Lost in the desperation in them. The dark of his pupils like hollows, threatening to swallow you whole. All the while your hand remained latched onto the door handle, frozen as he sucked you into the raw emotion that could only be described as a sort of anguish. "I fucked up, I know that, but we can get through this. "

His hands had slipped up to your face then. Cradling you as though it might keep you with him, secure in his palms, a fine porcelain that might shatter if handled too harshly. But you couldn't stand to listen to him. To feel him on your skin, to smell the scent of him after trying to wash the fragrance of his cologne out of your sheets. It had you jerking in his grip like a wild animal, even while a pathetic part of you longed to draw him closer. Before he could fully register it, you had tugged the driver's side door open, slipping out of his grasp and into your car. You had yanked the door shut and slammed your hand down on the main button to lock the entirety of the car down. Keeping him out.

You didn't spare him a glance as he banged on the window, asking that you step back outside in a tone that was so soft. So broken. But you swallowed down the urge to comply. You fueled yourself with the anger buried beneath it all instead as you twisted the key into the ignition and sped off and out of the parking lot, gravel and dust spewing behind while you left him behind. Standing alone in an empty parking lot with only the dim sound of his voice trailing after you like a wounded, violent howl.

"Fine! Go on then! I don't fucking need you!"

It's only been a few weeks since then, but you've done well to move on from it all. It was a simple, few month-long fling. Nothing more, nothing less. And that's all it would ever be. Thankfully, eventually, after a few weeks, he had given up. He stopped coming by your house, he quit stalking around the outside of your job. It was as though he had never even existed. All traces of him were gone from your life. For the most part. Until Matilda had gone and opened up her mouth, accidentally drawing up old memories and picking at a wound that had just begun to heal.

It had been enough to put a blight on the remainder of your day, looming above like the thick of storm clouds. You're suffocating. Being pulled beneath crashing, tossing waves that threaten to fill your lungs with the sting of water and leave you lifeless and adrift. All of the vibrancy and enthusiasm for life that had been there just this afternoon seems to have fizzled out like a sparkler that's been dropped in a puddle.

It makes you frustrated and tired with yourself. Exhausted by how much you've paled in comparison to the person you were only weeks ago, and here you are groveling in self-pity and loathing all because of an egocentric, insecure man who runs around town with all of the self-restraint of a rabid dog. He doesn't deserve your heartache or your tears. He never cared about you or your feelings. You had just been a hole to fuck, a pair of arms to run into when his life at home fell into shambles.

For the first time in a while, you found yourself calling Becca in the hopes of wrangling her into going out. There was a party going on tonight, and an invitation had been extended to you, passed on by Allen Thatcher when he had come into the Backyard yesterday for his usual. You declined then. In any other circumstance, you would have accepted, schedule willing. Then the idea of attending a party, as relaxed as the environment might be, had seemed daunting. Far too much, too overstimulating while you still struggle to grapple with the torrent running rampant within you. But now, with anger and betrayal breaking through it all, bursting between the hurt like a fire spreading through a dead forest, the prospect of blaring music and the sting of alcohol sounds like a relief.

It had been enough to have you dialing Becca and asking if she was free. She had seemed surprised on the phone, and she has a right to be. She's spent close to two weeks now trying to draw you out of the fog that you had fallen under. Doing her best to be supportive and keep you grounded while you try and weather the onslaught of your emotions, often swinging by your place if your work schedules allow to spend hours talking and exchanging some of the local drama with each other and catching up on the little things. She had also goaded you into bleaching and dying her hair late at 3 a.m., a task that you weren't fully confident in, but now the final result isn't too bad.

She knows what happened between you and Rafe. She's the only one on this entire island that's aware of the precarious fling that had taken place between you and him and the sudden "break up" that had followed. She was the only person that you had trusted to share your secret with, and once your mood had taken a steady decline after cutting him off, you were unable to deny that the shift in your demeanor was entirely obvious, and she of all people, deserved to know the reason why.

You received about what you had anticipated. A confused, somewhat disappointed stare in turn, as she no doubt processed why you hadn't told her sooner. The shock clearly written on her face as she wondered just how and why you had chosen to have a fling with Rafe Cameron of all people. But thankfully she had kept (most of) her thoughts and feelings to herself. For now, at least. Once the wound in you heals, you know that she'll be poking and prodding for you to give her all the details.

For now, you can just bask in the sense of freedom that falls over you. It's like breathing after holding your breath for too long and it invites you to be shameless as you allow yourself to sway and move under the guide of the music's rhythm, taking sips of your drink until you can feel it humming in your limbs, making you light and pleasantly warm. People scattered among the space had greeted the two of you as you entered, nodding in greeting and lifting their solo cups to acknowledge you. It was nice to be seen so unabashedly, to be invited into a space without any strings attached or expectations. It just feels like another reminder that you don't need him in the slightest. With all of his insecurities and expectations for how he's perceived in the world. In his version of society. A place that you didn't fit.

Here you're liked. You're wanted without having to give hardly anything in return. You're only expected to be present.

It should be suffocating in Thatcher's living room, crowded by the scattered throng of people as laughter rises and falls across the air, bubbling over the 2000's pop song that blasts through the speakers loudly enough to have the walls vibrating. But the atmosphere is purely electrical, thrumming with an excitement that almost seems tangible, gliding along your fingertips and down your spine. It's lively, but comforting in a space that's decently familiar, having spent many a night in these same walls during parties just like this one, surrounded by many a familiar face. You know the people here. You've grown up with them. Many of which you had played with as a child, exploring creeks for bottles made of green and blue glass, skinning your knees from climbing trees, and breaking into abandoned buildings to explore and decorate with spray paint.

Even if time has grown you apart somewhat, your lives forking from each other to divert you on your own paths, you can easily scan the throng and find at least ten people who you know. It brings you a sort of solace. You community is small, and your luxuries are often just as limited but there's a genuine connection between the lot of you that the Kook's will never have.

Their relationships come with a check list. Requirements and demands that rests entirely on the number of digits in their bank accounts or how they're recognized by their accomplishments. It's all purely material. It's not a give or take, but a constant influx of give, give, give. You suppose in that aspect, you can pity Rafe. And all the other Kook's on this island.

But you don't need to worry about all of that here. You're entirely free to do whatever you want. It could have been hours, or maybe only seconds, time seems to have poured into a blur in the middle of Thatcher's living room. Drawing down into a sluggish glide, like a thin flow of water cascading over the bend of rocks. It had taken you by surprise when a girl had run in from the adjoining kitchen, whooping loudly over the music, and she had nearly sent you and Becca tipping over when she brushed past you, tossing a handfuls of confetti as she went.

Your irritation is only able to flourish for a breath or two before it's snuffed out when the shifting star-shaped silver begins to fall down around you like a soft scatter of rainfall. You have to cover your drink with your hand to keep it from getting contaminated from the confetti as you shift with the music, listening to the elated sound of Becca's laughter from somewhere beside you. Her attentions fixed on a guy that she's been eyeing all night. He's cute in a way, not exactly you type personally, but what you and Becca find attractive has always coexisted on a different spectrum.

He seems to be watching her too. Sneaking glances from his place on the worn couch, but he hasn't worked up the courage to part from his friends, remaining fixed in his place as he clutches his beer. Either playing hard to get or too shy to make a move.

"You gonna go for it?" You ask, leaning in towards her ear to be heard over the energetic tempo.

Her face pinches like she's considering her option, nose wrinkling slightly. She has a tendency on waiting for guys to make the first move. A strategy that typically pays off in a party setting, with everyone boosted by liquid confidence, but this one in particular doesn't seem to be budging from his spot. If she was going to even attempt to approach him then she wouldn't do it without a little, gentle push. But once she works past whatever is giving her hesitation, she's pretty quick to gun for what she wants. Now you just have to nudge.

"I don't know." She answers, shifting on her heels to get closer to you. You can hear the uncertainty in her voice, even underneath the cover of the swelling music. It has an amused smile tugging at your lips, and you fight off the urge to playfully roll your eyes at her as you dare to look back over to the guy who's been undressing her with his eyes the entire night.

"Oh, come on," you urge, meeting her doubtful expression with your own confident one. "You've been watching each other for at least twenty minutes now. "

"Then why hasn't he made a move?" She taps her nails absentmindedly along the side of her cup.

"Maybe he just likes the chase," you shrug. "But I've seen a couple other people here checking him out. Most notably, the tall blonde in the corner. It's only a matter of time before she swoops him up herself."

She seems to take a pause, falling silently for a moment as though she's weighing her alternatives, but when you catch the hint of a smirk on her face you know that she's finally made her choice. She silently taps her cup to yours in a salute, and a quick, "Alright, I'm going in," as she heads off in the direction of the couch with an inviting smile on her face and an extra sway in her hips.

As soon as she leaves, her absence is unignorable. Despite the living room being packed with people, it suddenly seems terribly hollow. There are faces scattered among the throng that you easily recognize. People who you went to high school with. A few only live down the street from you, and you see them nearly every day on your drive to work piddling around in their yards; you talk to some of them while you stand in line at the corner store to ring up the gas for your car a fountain drink. It would be easy, in theory, to walk up to just about any of them and strike up a conversation, but that suddenly seems impossible.

It's like being in the middle of an ocean, clinging onto a scrap of wood left from the remnants of a wreck to keep you afloat in the tossing waves. The colorful array of confetti casted along the carpet, the music humming along the air like a current, the dispersed chimes of laughter floating up around you, it doesn't seem as lively as it did before. The sight of couples mingling in the corners of the room like they're the only people left alive is a nasty reminder of what you've lost. Of what you've never had to begin with.

It has you glancing down at the inside of your cup, and it's a little frustrating to see the bottom of it, dark with only a thin sliver of what isn't even half a sip left. It has you making off towards the kitchen. Weaving through the sprinkling of bodies, carefully avoiding in accidentally nudging shoulders or running into someone as they mindlessly dance and wave their arms in the air. Lost in their own worlds.

It's mostly empty when you pass the threshold, with only two three other people present, two of which are little more than strangers and the other is Thatcher; the small group huddled together near the cabinets. The aforementioned man responsible for the little get together perches on the counter, his head leaned against the cabinets while he talks with the pair between swigs of his sweating beer, laughing loudly with his companions.

You don't let it stop you from approaching the kitchen table posted in the middle of the room, surveying the multiple two liters of soda and bottles of liquor that are scattered along the top, almost lost among the various chips and junk food. There's a lot to choose from, from Tito's to tequila and Fire Ball - the latter of which you can't help but to grimace at. You liked it for all of one night, and now the scent of cinnamon and overwhelming flavor of syrup threatens to make you gag every time. When you first got here, you had let Becca make your drink. A rum and Coke, you think, but it looks like someone might have finished off the bottle of liquor.

"There's beers and stuff in the fridge," a voice sounds out, drawing your attention up from the table and across the room. It's Thatcher, watching you from underneath the scattered dark strands of his hair. He points in the direction of said fridge with the hand holding his drink. "Some of those seltzers and uh, fruity beers too - Mike's or whatever."

"Oh, thanks," you say, crinkling the plastic cup in your hands and turning to toss in the trash can that's been blatantly placed near the table's legs. Probably so that it can't be missed. You see him nod towards his friends in your peripheral vision before slipping off the counter, the three of them exchanging words before he shuffles past them, and they leave the room, passing him knowing smiles as they slip out of the space.

You can guess what they might be insinuating, and suddenly it leaves you feeling just a bit awkward as you move over to the fridge and tug the door open to scan its contents. True to his words there's a pack of Bud Light, the majority of the cans already gone, leaving the box nearly hollow. But the seltzers and alcoholic lemonade is still fairly plentiful.

You've always known about the small crush that Thatcher has on you. Granted he's always been more than a little obvious with it, always following you with his eyes and popping into the Backyard on his lunch breaks from the docks, always requesting your section without fail, if more than one server happens to be scheduled. He's never been untoward or suffocating in his pursuit of you - if you could even call it that. It's always been more of a quiet admiration. He's sweet. Kind. A hard worker and boy-next-door type. The sort of guy that you should be able to see spending your life with. Except you can't. No matter how much you've tried to convince yourself, or others have tried to talk you into seeing his potential, the feelings never come.

You can easily acknowledge that he's attractive. With a light dusting of freckles over his warm skin and defined muscles in his arms from his work on the boats. You can almost be mad at yourself for not having so much as a flicker of attraction for him. It isn't a fault of his own. There isn't some awful thing he had done to you as children, or a comment that he had made in the past that rubs you the wrong way, there's just nothing. Not an ember of want buried down deep or a flicker of consideration that maybe you really should give him a try and maybe you'll discover that he's truly the guy for you. He's patient and sweet, and it somehow does nothing for you.

Being in his presence has never made you feel nervous before, but with the recent gash that Rafe has left in your life, the prospect of Thatcher suddenly coming to you with the insinuation of his feelings seems alarming. Like a wave that you don't have the courage to try and surf and navigate. It makes you almost regret coming here. Of letting your anger and exhaustion get the better of you to cling to an attempt to try and have a sense of freedom.

"Have you been doin' alright lately?" He asks, and your suddenly hyperaware of his body beside your own. The inquiry has something unsteady prickling along your flesh. To prolong the silent gap between you, you unseeingly sweep your vision along the fridge and grab at one of the first cans you see before closing the door softly. You try to focus on the atmosphere around you for a few more moments, listening to the hum of the music, the ceaseless chatter echoing around you. The scent of vape fumes and weed smoke piercing the air and making it thick.

"Uh, yeah, why?" You ask, keeping your voice light and leveled. You only pass him a look when you dig your finger underneath the tab and push it down to pop the can open with a sharp, metallic crack.

He shrugs then, tilting his head as he considers you from his place leaned along the kitchen counter. "I don't know. You seem . . . Different. Distracted, I guess?"

You've heard that one before. From Charlotte and the other girls at work. Even Becca herself has said that you've been quiet. Withdrawn. It makes you feel as though you're being put underneath a microscope. It forces you to be conscious of yourself. Of how you hold your shoulders, the way your arms hang at your sides, the posture of your spine. If you're smiling too much or too little, and the line between the two sometimes seem like they're merging.

"Just personal stuff," you reply, occupying yourself by taking a sip of your drink. "It's nothing serious, honestly."

Another small stretch of silence extends between you two, and you can see him nodding out of the corner of your eye as you shift to properly face him.

"Okay. For what it's worth I'm here if you ever need someone to speak to. I know it can seem a little lonely when you're dealing with shit. Especially, personal, family stuff. " He clears his throat then, his eyebrows drawing close. "Sorry, I didn't invite you here to interrogate you. You're probably trying to forget it all, and I'm just reminding you-"

"No! It's fine," you assure him in a quick rush. And it's the truth. You can't deny that the sentiment of it is nice. To know that he does care. You wouldn't consider yourself particularly close to him. You get on well enough. You've been to several of his parties, and he comes in to see you semi frequently at work, but beyond those cordial meetings, your time with him has never really extended beyond that. He was sort of part of an old friend group of yours when you were young. A friend of a friend. But age had seemed to draw you apart. You outgrew each other, it seems. But from what you remember, he was always one of the most doting. A natural part of his personality brought on from being the eldest brother to three siblings, most likely.

Despite it all, it's a comfort. You can feel the tension that had pulled your muscle taut beginning to fade, allowing you to relax again. There's the impression of a soft smile on your mouth. A product of the relief that melts through you at the small offering of his support. It's probably not one that you'll actually seek out or indulge in, but the thought behind it is a welcome one.

"I appreciate it." You offer a smile.

Something shifts in his expression then. It's tender and subtle, but the implications of it suddenly terrifies you. The sight of it gives you a good idea of what is going on in his head. Of what he thinks might be happening, that an opening has just presented itself to him. It's more than enough to have that delicate sense of unease welling up inside of you again, trembling up your spine like a bolt of electricity. It urges you to make up an excuse, no matter how flimsy or paper thin it might be, but the words in your throat never rise. You feel trapped as you watch him shift awkwardly on his feet, the bottom of his shoes squeaking lowly on the fake, linoleum tiles as he prepares to speak, clearly thinking over how to make his approach.

"Who the hell is this?"

At first you consider that one of your earlier drinks had been spiked, and that you're suffering from a hallucination before you tip over and pass out on the kitchen floor. That could be the only possible explanation for the familiar voice that has just cut across the energetic atmosphere and uncomfortable tension. The sound of it seems to sever through you like a hot blade. The tone of it and the subtle, almost tired croak that always seems to be present in the edge its inflections searing through you like a lick of fire.

It has your head jerking in its direction in a sharp snap and so many different things happen in you at once. Your mouth goes dry, you're certain that your heart stops and plummets down to the pit of your belly; time grinds down to a halt. The air is like static, thrumming over your skin in a way that tingles and hums. It forces you to stare like a deer caught in the headlights.

Something about him looks rough. You can't tell if it's just the oily hue of the overhead kitchen light that's making the bags underneath his eyes more pronounced, but his face looks ragged. As though he hasn't slept properly in days; body pulled up tight with a nervous energy. His hair tousled and unkempt, as though he's been restlessly running his hands through it, knocking the strands loose to hang above his eyes, which look wild. A little blood shot as they dart between you and Thatcher, sweeping down the length of the other man's body as though he's sizing him up. It makes you worried that he's come here coked up. Fueled by chaotic emotions and drugs.

It immediately puts you on edge, the way that he's openly evaluating him. No doubt, considering what might happen if he crosses the floor and swings on Thatcher. It's enough to rip you from your daze, the very prospect of it snapping over you like the crack of a gunshot.

"Rafe," you gasp. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see you," he answers, as though it's normal. As though it was the most obvious thing in the world. He creeps forward a little bit then, as though he's attempting to approach a wild animal that might startle and dart at any second. And honestly, you feel as though you might. Your mind is scrambling, whipping around like a storm as a barrage of questions rise and swell.

"How did you know I was here?" The question tumbles out of your mouth like something molten. Even with the unease seeping at you, you're unable to fight of the irritation burrowing beneath the surface of it all. "Are you stalking me? Do you have someone keeping tabs? What-"

"It was a lucky guess."

Bullshit. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit, a voice in your mind seethes. He's such a liar. It's like he's allergic to telling the truth. There's no way he had a "lucky guess" for this. There's no explanation as to how he managed to track you down to a house in the middle of nowhere. A place that you know he's never been to before.

Thatcher stands up straighter beside you, removing himself from the support of the counter to evaluate Rafe. "Ah, do you want me to kick him out? -"

"Why don't you keep out of this." But it isn't a question or a suggestion. It slips from Rafe's mouth sharp and venomous, a clear command. Nearly a hiss with how much disdain is etched in his words. His vision flickering from you just long enough to pin Thatcher in place. It makes you wonder how he could possibly be so cross with a person that he doesn't even know. But then again, you've seen him snap people for as something as little as looking at him for too long.

You can practically feel the possibility of a fight in the air. Heavy and charged like the presence of electricity running through the thick of a storm with the promise of a lightning strike. You can see the hypothetical rope that's restraining Rafe fraying and straining by the second. Growing weaker and weaker. Everything about the way that he's holding himself is practically screaming that he's preparing for the possibility of a physical confrontation; shoulders set, and eyes wide and glinting in the glow of the lights in a way that looks feral.

You hardly think when you step out in front of him, moving yourself away from Thatcher to place your body between the both of theirs until there's little more than a few feet separating you and Rafe. You hardly have time to process how close you are to him. That night in the parking lot feels like a lifetime ago. A murky, faded memory now that he's here in front of you again. You try to shove it all down as you crowd closer, drawing his focus onto you. He watches at you like you're a ghost. Like you might not be real at all. A figment of his imagination. There's a type of wonder in his expression, wide eyed and doused in disbelief.

"You want to talk, right? That's why you're here?" You ask sharply, in a rapid fire, ignoring Thatcher as he shuffles just close enough to enter your peripheral vision. You have half the mind to warn him to back off, but you don't.

"Yeah, I just wanna talk," Rafe answers. It sounds like another lie. His eyes are still attentive on you, the joined shades of faint gray and blue boring into you with an intensity that you long to both shy away from and bask under. You can see it now that you have to confront whatever this is. He's made it more than apparent that he won't leave you alone. That he won't back off until he's said his piece. He's a dog with a bone, and he isn't going to relent until he finally gets his way.

"Fine." You relent, and all but slam the can of drink that you're holding on the edge of the kitchen table, nearly knocking a bag of chips down onto the floor. You swear you can see relief wash over Rafe then, slipping over from his body as though he had been held down by a physical weight. The alleviation burns bright in his stare, and a deep, silent sigh expels from his chest. It's as though you had just saved him. Tugged him out of deep, dark waters and onto solid land.

It's Thatcher who speaks up next, standing straighter like he might dare to move closer. "Hey, are you sure that that's a good idea?"

That's all it takes for Rafe to start forward, lunging like a guard dog. "Why don't you stay the fuck out of it, huh? She's not your girl, so do yourself a favor and keep your mouth shut."

You have to throw yourself in front of him again, smacking your hands onto his chest to try and nudge him back. It's probably by the grace of God that he relents, yielding to the press of your hand and allowing you to push him back a few paces. You're quick to look over your shoulder to pass a glare at Thatcher. A silent signal to get him to keep silent, lest this get out of control. It's a plea and an order all once, and thankfully he complies, even while he looks like he wants to do nothing more than to meet Rafe's challenge.

"It'll only be for a few minutes," you decide and promise; to Thatcher, to Rafe, but mostly, it just seems like you're saying it to yourself. You can see that Thatcher is uncertain. He has every right to be. You should be as well, but you can't find yourself to be swallowed by your doubt and caution. Instead, you move around him, not even bothering to check and make sure that he's following.

You know that he is. Like a buried instinct, you can practically feel his presence running down your spine as he trails closely like a shadow. Allowing you to guide him through the living room where some people pause and turn with confused expressions as they see Rafe pass. But you do your best not to pay them any mind. Not even when you can hear hushed murmurs manage to trickle past the wild thrum of music; gossip already taking root.

You were able to get a glimpse of Becca making out on the couch with the stranger from earlier. You wish you had it in you to be happy for her, but you're currently too busy being attacked by a chaotic swirl of emotions as you lead him down the narrow hall until you come to a door on the right. The knock that you harshly tap against the flimsy wooden panel is loud but rushed, and you hardly give anyone time to answer before you're twisting the knob and all but throwing the door open on its hinges.

Fortunately, it's empty and you're quick to slip into the compact space, slamming it shut behind you once Rafe steps past the threshold and twisting the lock. It's all done with the sharp pronunciation of anger, quick and heavy as you try to control the absolute flood of insults and questions that threaten to spill past your lips, but you settle for leaning back against the sink, watching him with your arms crossed.

"Well? Go on then," you encourage tersely.

His eyebrows crease just the slightest. He shifts back, tilting on his heels while his lip's part. Like he's perplexed. "So that's how it's gonna be, then?"

"Yep."

He stares at you for a few beats as though he's trying to process your remark, wiping a hand along his mouth in an annoyed gesture. "Y-you just left. Without hardly so much as a word. One minute we were fine, and the next -" his hands raise up in the air in some sort of a flourish like it'll help him articulate better, " - Gone. Like nothing. Do you have any idea what that did to me?"

For a long moment you can only stare at him. In disbelief. In complete shock honestly. You can feel your face twisting up in a snarl, but probably does nothing to show the true extent of your anger. "What it did to you? What about me, Rafe?" It comes out scathing. Dripping with contempt and it has you leaning just slightly from the support of the sink - just enough to tilt into his space. "Do you even realize how shitty it made me feel, seeing her clinging to you like a tick? No warning from you or anything. You used to sleep in my fucking bed, Rafe. I would wash your boxers with my laundry. And then what? I'm just thrown away? That easily?"

A laugh bubbles up from you, full of scorn and mocking. You hate the lost look in his eyes. How he shuffles back a few paces, as much as the small space of the bathroom with allow, just until his back nudges with the wall and shakes the small picture frame hung there. Suddenly, he seems like the trapped animal. A nervous, wild thing that's been cornered and threatened, but you can stop yourself once you've started, and it pours out of you in a rush, talking over him as he tries to speak. Tries to defend himself with more lies.

"I guess it's my fault though, isn't it? I shouldn't have expected anything different. How could the prince of Kildare Island be seen with someone like me, huh? I'm not rich and perfect. How could a Pogue honestly expect to be with someone like you? " Your mouth shapes into a grimace as you observe as he stands to the wall, shoulders hunching like he doesn't know what to do with himself. "What was I to you, honestly? Just a distraction? A little inside joke with yourself? A quick fuck to take the edge off when life with daddy and mommy got too rough?"

"That's not it, okay!?" He shouts suddenly, moving forward abruptly enough to send you reeling back into the sink. Enough for the press of the porcelain to sting. "Will you just let me speak? Just - " His face pinches again, lips twisting while he draws in a deep breath as a means to steady himself. "Just let me talk."

It makes you swallow. Burying down the nerves that prickle along your gut and beneath your skin as you watch him. You move your hands to grip the edge of the of sink tightly enough for your knuckles to ache, but you do keep your mouth shut and he seems to take your silence as the go ahead.

"I didn't sleep with her, alright? I tried. But I didn't - I couldn't. "

"Like that's any better." You scoff. It's childish, but in your defense, he's entitled. So out of touch with reality and the impact that he truly leaves on things. Unaware of the hurt that he's carved into you. You have to distract yourself by looking off; anywhere but him, and you end up scanning over a half-used bottle of body wash and a bar of soap that sits in the bathtub caddy like they're the most interesting objects in the world.

"When I'm with you, you make me feel . . . things. Things I've never felt before. Not really." The clunky confession draws your attention to him much easier than you'd like to admit. The way that he describes his feelings is always odd. Detached. Sort of messy, like he's trying to come to terms with being a human being and doesn't know how to fully understand the gravity of his own emotions. "It was a lot to deal with. I didn't know how to. And there was all of this shit with my family and that damned Pogue sticking his nose where he shouldn't - I just needed a distraction. But it couldn't have been you. I wouldn't have been able to keep myself - "

He seems to catch himself short. Biting his tongue to keep it at bay. And whatever it is you aren't sure. But you have to know now. He's not allowed to backtrack as soon as it gets uncomfortable for him. Not after what he had done. How he had left you and tried to pin the blame back on you.

"You wouldn't have been able to keep yourself from what?" It surprises even you when your voice comes out soft. Far too light for the conversation you're having and all of the pain that it's digging up. But it must have some sort of effect on him. He seems to lean closer to you then, like he longs to dip into your space and is just barely resisting in holding himself back.

When he looks at you again there's such bare vulnerability reflecting in his gaze. It nearly breaks something in you, but you hold onto your resolve. Gripping tight onto the heat of your resentment while something pathetically tender yearns to surface. It's dim and weak, but even the traces of it are enough to frighten you. To make you angry at yourself.

Rafe himself seems to hesitate. Like he's reached a physical barrier and doesn't know how to move past it. Something about his aversion annoys you. The implications that his words have left hang heavy in the atmosphere. Thick and prickling just like the humidity outside, and it seems to cling to your skin just as it would. Uncomfortable and sticky. He looks as though he might back away again. His body curling in on itself, clearly agitated, like he means to hide from your stare.

"Rafe," you murmur. It sounds like a plea to you; just as desperate as he looks. it almost pains you to be so delicate around him, but you can't seem to force the anger back into your voice.

He swears lowly under his breath, muttering lowly to himself in a tone that's too quiet to make out. He nearly looks as though he's lost his mind, mumbling to himself with some sort of distress clearly visible in his posture. And then in a blur he's on you. He's crowding you into the sink, his hands cupping your face lightly as though he wants to touch but isn't sure if he can. There's something frantic about it all. Like someone trying to catch water and keep it from slipping between their fingers. And there's a glimmer in his eyes that fervent, full of need and want; pupils blown so wide that they almost seem like chasms. Like they could swallow you whole.

"I think I love you." He says it slowly and yet it still comes out like a mess. Like he's articulating softly to try and sound out a foreign language. A tongue that he's never heard before. There's a confused edge to it. Almost as though he's in disbelief himself.

It leaves you more stunned that anything that has left him this night. Or in the entire span that you two have known each other. There's laughter welling up inside of you, but it feels like it might be out of hysterics rather than joy, but all you can do is sit and stare at him in total silence. You think you've lost the ability to speak. Your voice is absent. A dead thing in your throat.

"Baby, talk to me. Say something." His thumbs sweep along the swells of your cheeks, stroking you tenderly like you're something breakable.

"That's not true." You will it out of you, forcing your voice from your chest and it rises up a pale comparison of its usual tone. Light and weak around the edges. You hate the hurt look that flickers across his face. As though you had struck him or thrusted a knife into his chest. "You wouldn't have hurt me if you did. You wouldn't have done what you did."

"I know, but I was scared, baby." He nods in agreement. But there's still an excuse. Because there always is with him. He just can't seem to help himself and cuts you deep, prodding the wound that's already there and bleeding. It has you gripping at one of his arms, to pull him away or keep him close you aren't sure. "I was scared of us."

"There is no us."

"But there could be."

He's clinging onto you with the desperate zeal of a starving man groveling at the feet of a savior. Spewing out praises and pleas to satisfy the unforgiving hunger ravaging his body. In any other circumstance, you would have delighted in seeing him so anguished. You would have gloated over it. But it's difficult to find that delight while he's making promises of you've always longed for. A promise that you know he can't really keep. Not when you're worlds apart. It makes it cruel, the way he dangles it in front of your face with so much conviction. As though he believes in his own lies.

And you want to trust in them. So badly that it aches. It's almost like a physical agony, and it has you resisting the urge to lean into him for a comfort that only he can provide while he causes your pain.

"Don't do this, Rafe. Please." You know that you must sound pitiful. A far cry from the rage that had possessed you only moments before, and you hate how powerless he's able to make you. How easily he can disarm you with just his presence, the sound of his voice. You're weak against him. You think that you always have been, long before the two of you had begun to hook up; always sneaking quick glances at him when he wasn't looking. Admiring him when you knew that you shouldn't have been.

"We can do it; just you and me." He insists, curling his body closer to yours as though he's trying to cage you in; his lips nearly brushing along yours. It has his scent wafting over you, filling up the air and tainting every drag of oxygen you take until he's trapped in your lungs; all dark rum, musk, and a blend of something woody and embellished with a hint of spice. It always blends with the salt of his skin and his natural scent. The same one that had stubbornly clung to your sheets and lingered about your trailer like an unwelcome ghost for days.

"And what happens then? When the friends you're always so worried about see you with me? How do you think they'll look at you then?" You try to manipulate some strength into your voice, but it still sounds too light, even to you. Nearly wavering.

"They don't matter anymore. Not really. " He promises. The cradle of his hands becomes firmer in its press, sinking the warmth of his palms into your skin. "It's just you; it's always been you."

You think that it shatters you and snaps your ire back into place all at once. Striking fire around the molten heat that had just begun to dim. But it doesn't manifest in the nature of more scathing words or a slap to his cheek. You just want him to shut up. To stop talking. Suddenly, your lips are on his, your fingers are threading through his hair as you guide him into a kiss that's all teeth and tongue; fueled by the fire and the suffering in your veins.

A small, startled sound puffs from his chest. The only indication of his surprise before he's matching your passion with an ardor and need that leaves you just as bewildered and breathless; swept under as though a raging surf has crashed over your body. He nips at your mouth, biting at the tender flesh of your bottom lip like he means to draw blood. His nails scratch at your scalp, his fingers tensing like you might slip away otherwise and he's determined to keep you held against him while he nudges his body flush to yours.

It quickly becomes a tangle of limbs as you both scramble to get closer, guided by the overwhelming sense of relief that smooths over you like a balm on a burn scar. The taste of him in your mouth seeming to soothe you and tear you apart all at once, but you can't find the strength to stop now that you've started. The mere idea of it seems like a damnation. Like hell incarnate. And now that he's here you can't help but to wonder how you've made it so long without him. You feel drunk on him. Intoxicated by the alcohol on your veins and the scent of him; the desire coiling in your belly like something molten and starved.

You moan into him when he removes his hands from your face sweep them down the length of your body. Trailing them along your ribs and down to cup your ass, squeezing the shape of it as he hauls you up onto the counter and the edge of the sink so that he can wedge a place for himself between your thighs. It urges your legs to part, and you willingly let him settle between them, rucking your skirt up high on your hips as he presses against you.

Fitting himself so close that there isn't any space left to separate your bodies.

He already seems restless, his hips working on yours in slow, almost broken grinds. Like he's not even aware that he's doing it. Mindlessly seeking out friction while he breathes into you. It's like he's been starved, and now that he has something to feed that hunger, he's frantic and wanton. His fingers claw at you. Gripping so tightly that you know the skin beneath them is going to smart and sting later, but you almost welcome the pain. The reminder that it'll leave.

You've been kissing for so long that it feels as though you're beginning to suffocate. The small gulps of air you've been snatching in between the nips of his teeth and the sweeps of his tongue aren't enough. There's a slight pinch in your lungs, screaming at you to pull away, but you wait only till the last second to do so. Only removing your mouth from his once you fear you could go lightheaded and faint. Still, you can't help but to mourn the loss when you break the kiss to come up for air, gasping softly to soothe the mild ache in your chest.

Rafe's nose brushes against yours, nudging as though he's tempted to seek out your mouth again. But he grants you the mercy of occupying his own by scattering fervent kisses up the stretch of your neck, removing a hand from your hip to grip your hair instead. Using it as leverage to tug your head to the side to offer himself more of your flesh.

It all feels so overwhelming. As though all of the nerves in your body have come alight and are burning, flaring like embers at the press of his body and the wet glide of his mouth. His tongue traces over you, lashing out to taste the salt on your skin. His lips close around the point on your neck that turns you soft, and just as easily as if he had pressed a button, your muscles seem to go taut and malleable all at once when he begins to suck. Slightly dragging his teeth over that spot, making your hips jerk against his. He's already hard. The weight of him pressing against your cunt. The motion tugs at the fabric of your underwear, and it could be embarrassing when you notice the arousal soaking the material, making it cling to your skin, but you're too deep in the want the licks up your flesh to truly care.

He groans lowly in your ear, the noise drawing up deep and heavy from the depths of his chest. Spurred on from the restless drag of your hips as you begin to greedily chase after the bright heat that zips up your spine when you do.

"Rafe." You moan, clinging to his shoulders like it might keep you from floating away.

"I know, I know. I got you." He mumbles it on your skin, saying it between sharp bites of his teeth. His fingers flex again, like a physical period on the sentence. Then he's moving again. Shifting his focus down your chest to map out a string of kisses across your chest. Nipping at your collar bone and tracing his tongue over the hint of your breasts that peek from the low cut of your shirt. Your head thumps back on the mirror as you arche towards him, seeking out the wet heat of his mouth when suddenly he pauses. His lips detach from your skin, just near enough that you can feel the light brush of them, but it's not firm enough to bring you any pleasure.

Your eyebrows furrow close when he still doesn't move. You can't keep yourself from tilting your head down to glare at him with a frustrated scowl, lightly panting as you as you speak. "Wh - why did you stop?"

He pulls back then, posture straightening just a bit to meet your eyes, and you can't keep the confusion off of your face when you feel something slip from between your breasts. But then a glint of gold passes into your vision, twinkling lowly in the warm light projecting over the bathroom. Dangling from his index finger and still hooked around your neck is a familiar chain. Thin and delicate, but it's the pendant that hangs from it that really captures your attention.

Humiliation stings at your cheeks at the sight of his expression. All smug and too satisfied as he suspends the charm in front of your face, faintly swinging it back and forth like a taunt. Forcing you to confront the R and its significance; still safe and secure on your body despite everything. You can see his delight and pride glinting clearly in his eyes, and there's a comment on his tongue.

"Don't," you warn. But despite your best efforts to sound firm, something soft bleeds around the fringes. It's playful but also sensitive. Reluctantly spirited despite all of the hurt. It dips over the heat that clouds over the atmosphere like the light fall of a delicate, scattered rain. It's frustrating how natural it feels. Like slipping into the comfort of your bed after a long day or falling back into the soothing relief that comes with giving into a bad habit. It's like a second nature. That should concern you. It should make worry and maybe even hate yourself a bit too, but the wave of self-loathing doesn't come. You can't seem to find a place for hatred when being so close to him is like coming home.

"Don't what?" He asks cheekily. Finally, he drops the necklace. But he doesn't break eye contact as he leans forward to plant a kiss between your breasts over the obnoxious barrier of your shirt. You've never wanted to rip off a piece of fabric any more than you do now. It's almost as though he can read you mind once his hands slip beath your shirt, bunching the short, tight cut of it further up your ribs and past your breasts until its little more than a strip of gathered fabric. And then he's slipping it up around your torso and impatiently tugging it free from your arms, which you lift to aid him. Allowing him to toss it somewhere on the floor. You hear it land with a light thump, discarded and forgotten.

There's only the cover of your bra now keeping your chest from being on display, but his eyes zero in on it regardless. Eyeing the shape of your breasts as they heave against the lace clinging to them and the gold jewelry draped over your skin. That starved look is back again, melting with the smug glint in his eyes; gone dark from lust.

"I've missed you so much." He speaks against you, speaking the words to your skin like it's a prayer. A declaration and plea for all at once. He drops to his knees then. The bottoms of his shoes lightly squeaking on the tiles as he shifts to trail the plush of his mouth down your stomach, pausing in his trail to swipe his tongue along the divot of your belly button. It makes your stomach twitch when he does it. Lurching at the liquid fire that it leaves in his wake. He playfully nips at the hem of your skirt, nosing at the button keeping it secure around your waist. "What about you, baby? Did you miss me?"

He already knows the answer to that. You can tell by the way that his eyes fix on the pendant glinting just above the joining strip of your bra, between the cups of delicate fabric. But even with the traces of his ego still present, the desperation that was there before is still clear in the dark of his stare. He looks so vulnerable then, with his head cradled between your thighs, staring up at you like a sinner seeking absolution. You know that he's always craved to be wanted. To be needed and seen.

You could easily tear him down right now, in the exposed state he's in. To exact the revenge that you had wanted so badly. To finally get ahold of the retribution that has haunted you for many sleepless nights. But the desire to truly do so doesn't come. The sting of anger that ravaged you before has dimmed into a weak ember, set to go dark and cold.

Instead of lashing out, as though it has a mind of its own one your hands reach down to smooth over the side of his face. Your fingers glide over his skin and cup around the shape of his ear. His eye lashes nearly flutter when he leans into the warmth of your palm, seeking out the press of it like he needs it to survive.

"Yeah, I missed you," you admit. You swear that he shifts closer to you at the confession. Such a minute movement that you might not have noticed it had your attentions not been so heavily fixed on him. There are the traces of a smile on his lips. But it isn't smug like before. It seems like one of relief this time. Happy and at peace. Like a sentence so small as brought him a kind of solace.

"Yeah?" He presses a soft kiss onto your upper thigh then, holding his mouth there while a puff of what could be a breath of laughter, or a sigh of elation leaves him. "Let me show you. Can I show you?"

The fervent pitch of his voice is loud in your ears, your dazed mind sluggishly making sense of his rushed beg. But once it connects, you don't take long to respond. Your head nods quickly in agreement, a jumbled string of yeses pouring from you in a steady stream. Anticipation thrums thick in throughout your body, smoldering and intoxicating as it winds through your veins. You've hardly done anything with him, and you already feel drunk. Like your head has been packed full of stuffing and fumes. You feel like a live wire. Running hot and searing; waiting to light up in a barrage of sparks.

You swear you could already tip over the edge when he shoves his face between the apex of your thighs, laving his tongue over the clothed heat of your cunt without any warning. Licking you through your underwear. It all but crushes a strangled gasp from you and your hands fly to the edge of the counter to support yourself as your body curls in on itself. Doubling over from the zip of pleasure that skirts through you like the wild crack of a lightning rod.

"You're already soaked," he groans. The vibrations of his voice doubling with the drag of his tongue and making your hips mindlessly grind into the warmth of his mouth. It feels so good, and yet it somehow isn't enough. The barrier of your underwear makes the swipe of his lips and tongue too dull. A faint comparison of what it could be. Of how good you know it really feels.

"Ray, take 'em off." You beg, arching as he grinds the point of his nose against your clit.

The look in his eyes is impish as he watches you from his place between your legs. The look of it is always a sign of trouble from him. Especially in situations like this, where he can easily exercise control over you by keeping you malleable and desperate on the caress of his fingers or the glide of his tongue. He'll keep you dangling on that edge for hours if you let him. Pushing and pulling you like the sway of the tide. Working you up to the precipice of something debilitating only to drop you back from it, until your pleasure ebbs away into a dull, frustrating ache. And he'll do it over and over again until your moans meld into the beginnings of a sob. But you can't do that. Not now, at least, with a hunger and want that feels like it could tear you apart by twisting inside of you.

"Please, don't tease tonight." You pant, still mindlessly chasing after what little pleasure he gives with the roll of your hips. "Not now, Rafe. I can't-"

"I won't. I promise," he says, placating you with kisses along your underwear, sucking at the delicate skin at the joining of your hip and thigh. "I'll play nice, hm?"

It's only then that he's tugging your underwear off. Ripping it from you so suddenly that it would have uprooted you from your place if you hadn't already been clinging to the edge of the counter. You can hear the sharp cry of fabric giving a little as he slips it free from your legs. But you don't have time to mourn or admonish him for the loss because you're pretty sure that he pockets it, taking if for himself like the pervert he is. It wouldn't be the first pair that he's snagged from you. His probably has more of your panties than you do at this point.

He uses his shoulders to shove your thighs far apart, using his hands to lift and drape your legs over his back as he lurches forward, smothering himself in your bare cunt. He groans into you, dropping his mouth open to swipe his tongue, lapping at you like a man starved.

A loud, startled moan rips free from your lungs and you only have half the mind to swallow it down, making it trail off in a strangled noise. You can still hear the party living on just outside the thin barrier of the door. The music and chatter from beyond it trickling past in a muffled hush. From deep in the living room there would be no possible way for them to know what's happening, but if someone was to walk past the bathroom it would be more than apparent as to what the both of you are doing inside.

Rafe isn't having it. He lands a soft smack on the outside of your leg, mostly just to catch your attention, but the subtle sting of it makes you gasp regardless. It forces you to return you focus to him, looking down at him as he watches you with eyes that seemed glazed and almost drunk. He just barely pulls back, his lips still sweeping over you while his tongue brushes over your clit in soft licks as he talks in a slurred sort of tone: "Don't hold yourself back like that. Let them hear you. I want them to." His voice dies down then, falling into an almost crazed murmur in between the drag of his mouth. But you are certain that you can make out scraps of what he's saying in between the messy, wet sounds coming from your pussy and the pants of breath rising from his lungs. Something along the lines of "especially him - I'll kill him."

Regardless of who he's referring to (even though your addled brain slowly gathers that it's more than likely Thatcher), it should concern you. The threat that easily slips from him as though he's proposing something as simple as taking a joy ride around the island or making a remark about an annoying coworker. It's supposed to be disturbing, especially when you know that violence comes easily to him. Sometimes as simple as breathing. As though it's engraved in his DNA, part of his genetic coding.

You know deep down, in the pit of your soul that the remark isn't one to simply pass off. It isn't just a product of his mood or a fleeting result jealousy; it could very well be a promise. He's always been protective over what he deems as his. If anything poses a threat to his happiness or comfort, he's quick to lash out. He doesn't shy away from the possibility of violence, bloodied knuckles or busted noses and broken wrists.

You had seen the way that he had looked at Thatcher earlier. Like a guard dog staring down a potential intruder through the bars of a fence, eyes wild and locked on. You hate to admit that you liked it a little then too. The glimmer of satisfaction that had zipped through you then had been so easy to ignore underneath all of your confusion and frustration, but here and now, with his head buried between your thighs and his fingers tensing around your skin, it's impossible to disregard.

His jealousy had been clear as day underneath the warm hue of the kitchen light. Naked for the world to see. Thatcher had to have noticed it then. He would have to be an idiot not to. Rafe came here to find you, trailing after you through the crowd of Pogue's and locals just so that he could speak to you. His reasons for showing up to this party in the middle of nowhere was obvious to everyone, and it pleases some twisted little part of you to know that gossip must already be circulating around the rooms just outside. Whispers about you and the prince of Kildare Island himself that would quickly spread beyond these very walls and make their way to town to be scattered amongst the population. To the two-faced old women of the church on Driftwood Parkway and all the way down to the rich men in khaki's as they cruise across the green in their golf carts.

Just about everyone on this island would know about you and him by the time that the sun sets tomorrow over the waves and douses Kildare in the dark. Just the prospect of it nearly pleases you as much as the glide of his tongue splitting you open does. Dipping inside the entrance of your cunt like he means to drink your soul from you. The combination of it all threatens to make you double over again, and to keep yourself from writhing off the counter you thread your fingers into his hair. Using the grip of it to grind your hips against his nose and the heat of his mouth. Your head knocks back on the mirror with a dull thump as a cry shakes itself free from your ribs, pitching and ragged.

"Rafe - oh fuck. God."

"Mmm, nah, not God - it's just me." Comes his response. It's so cliché and corny that you would have rolled your eyes and scoffed at him were you not too busy trying to gulp down oxygen in between your labored breaths. All you can do is manage an exasperated, playful frown in response, but you can see amusement flicker in his own gaze at the sight of it.

His apparent delight is enough for you to scramble enough air together to form a sentence, but it comes out winded; slow and choppy around the edges while you force it out. "You're so lame, Ray."

"Well, you're stuck with me. Now don't interrupt me." Then he's taking your clit into the cradle of his tongue and sucking. Laving it with small licks that turn your thoughts slow and syrupy. You hardly notice that he's pressing a finger against you, gathering the slick of your cum before slipping it inside, stretching your walls around the thickness of it; so much longer and wider than your own. It has your jaw dropping at the added pleasure and your hips twist up when he trusts it in deep. Finding that depilating spot that leaves you a mess with a practiced precision, reaching it so easily, just as he's done countless times before.

He chases after the jerk of your hips. Keeping his mouth fixed to you while he hurtles you closer to drowning in bliss. The influence of your approaching orgasm starts to crest with a speed that's dizzying, and you feel as though you hardly have any time to brace for it. It has your free hand scrambling across the stretch of the counter, blindly seeking for something else to hold on to, but all you succeed in doing is knocking down a bottle of mouthwash, sending it toppling over the edge to clatter on the floor below.

You can feel it fizzling at your fingertips and toes. Skirting down your spine like a zip of electricity, like a drizzle of scorching honey. Your body is drawing up tight. The muscles in your abdomen already seizing to mangle the pleasure from your body.

"Ray-Rafe, I'm gonna cum. You're gonna make me cum."

He doesn't bother coming up for air. Instead, his free hand slips up your thigh and reaches for your own. For the same one that had been mindlessly clawing for something to reach onto, and it makes your heart ache a little bit when he takes it in his own. Threading his fingers with yours for you to squeeze. It's a gesture that's far too sweet for a person who's currently eating you out in someone else's bathroom, but the pressure of his palm on you, the chill of his ring on your warm skin, the intimacy behind it, is enough to throw you headfirst into the throes of an orgasm.

You moan his name when you cum. Repeating it over and over again like a mantra that might save you as your bliss rips through you. But it's the support of his hair threaded through your fingers and the weight of his hand held in your own that serves to keep you grounded while you coast through the flood of warm and pleasure. It ebbs away slowly. Slipping from your body like melted sugar being poured down the drain and stubbornly catching in place. But it doesn't stop. It stretches out in front of you and begins to shift into something tainted by licks of fire and shocks of electricity.

It's too much. Blending between the lines of pleasure and pain. You need to catch your breath. To properly orient yourself but Rafe hasn't removed his mouth or his fingers from you. It's like your nerves have been lit on fire and it only heightens when he slips a finger in along the next, curling them together to stretch you out around them.

"Rafe, I can't." You nearly sob, your back impulsively bows and twists to try and shuffle your hips out from underneath the constant swipe his tongue but he stubbornly keeps himself in place.

He parts his lips from you only long enough to speak out a harsh reply, his voice firm and rigid while he pins you with a stare that's equally unwavering. "You can and you will. You've done it before; just ride it out and take it, baby."

And then he's on you again. Smearing your pussy open with his mouth, which suddenly feels too hot. It's a sweet sort of torture. One that you've never fully gotten used to, as much as you like it. It's like grasping onto a pop of lightning; searing underneath your flesh and ravaging you from the inside out. He's gone down on you for hours before, spurred on by the stresses brought on by his family and the weight of the world on his shoulders. It's a sort of stress relief for him, in some way. He gets a kind of peace out of it. From keeping you underneath his mouth and working orgasm after orgasm out of you until you're a wet, incoherent mess. Even while you benefit from it, it's more than apparent that it's mostly for his pleasure.

A set of your favorite silk sheets had been ruined because of it. Nothing that a cycle in the one of the trailer park's community wash machines hadn't taken care of, but the point still stands. He had kept you there for hours, pinned down on your bed while he used your body, wringing it of its pleasure and getting drunk on the taste. You had lost count of how many orgasms he had pulled from you after the third one. You can only hope that he isn't that starved for it tonight. You don't think that you'll survive it. Not here at least, while you're held up in Thatcher's bathroom.

But it seems that a small mercy has been bestowed upon you with how another coil of bliss begins to wind up tight, closely trailing after the influence of your previous orgasm. It's running up on you so much quicker than the first. Zipping through your body at a breakneck pace, spurred on by the curl of his fingers, and strengthened by the traces of ecstasy that still flood your system.

The movement of his fingers flexing and stroking inside of your send little shocks of static zipping inside of you. Still bordering on something almost painful, but it only serves to tip you that much closer to the precipice. Promising to toss you over the edge as he lightly shakes his head while he drinks down your arousal.

You gasp as you look down, taking in the sight of him through the rapture turning your mind into mush. He looks blissed out, eyes slipped closed and the worried pinch between his eyebrows has smoothed out. The traces of your cum has smeared across his nose and the corners of his cheeks, glinting softly in the light. He seems just as intoxicated it as you. Soothed by the taste of your cunt and the scent of sex in the air. It's filthy.

You hardly register being swept under by your pleasure, but it tugs you down ruthlessly. Seeming to snatch you by the throat and leave you breathless as you twitch and jerk beneath his mouth, and you're hardly able to hear his words of encouragement as he thrusts his fingers deeper to help ease you through the thick of it. "There you go. Just ride it out and give it to me."

Your body bends the command like its gospel; hips twitching to the rhythm that his fingers have set to further chase after the dull flickers of heat biting at you at you and sinking in the base of your spine. It turns your blood into something molten, and your muscles go pliant like melted wax, leaving you to sag against the mirror like dead weight; the sink presses almost painfully into your back but you're too spent to shuffle from it. He lets up only once a sharp hiss escapes you, slipping past your teeth in a thin sigh. He's careful when he removes his fingers free from you, shuffling up from his kneeled position on the floor to stand on his feet. His drags his tongue over his fingers as he does so, cleaning the taste of you off of them as he watches you with an intense stare, releasing them from his mouth with a pop that seems to ring out across the close walls of the bathroom.

He crowds into your space suddenly, his body now flush with yours. His chest heaving as though he had just run a marathon. "You did so good, always such a good girl for me." He murmurs as he places a kiss to your forehead, undeterred by the perspiration that dampens your skin. It's another soft moment between you both. Like an echo of all the ones just like it from the past, hidden under the guise of an odd camaraderie, always dancing around the emotions that truly lied beneath. This feels so much more natural than that. No longer self-conscious or restrained.

It makes everything seem light and airy. Probably a side effect of the dopamine now rushing through your veins and the remaining traces of alcohol, but there's no mistaking the soft look in his eyes. The peaceful expression on his face, now free of the clear agitation that had drawn his body tight just earlier. It has you reaching out for him. Smoothing your hands up his arms, feeling the texture of his shirt as they trail up his shoulders - a dark black shade. One of your favorite colors on him. Something that you had casually shared with him once, and it makes you smile to think that he had purposely worn it to come and see you.

Your fingers thread through the hair at the nape of his neck, carefully scratching your nails along the sensitive skin there. It feels like a reward when a pleased sigh puffs from his chest, and he props his forehead against yours to stare into your eyes. His own hands come up to trail over your bare thighs, messaging the flesh there as he runs them up and down their length, prompting you to lift them to wrap around his waist. Tugging him closer despite the slight tremor running through your relaxed muscles.

You feel almost impossibly close to him now. As though a pocket has been carved in time and made for the both of you; intimate and private. Even with the dim chatter of the party and the dull hum of music drifting through the flimsy door, and the possibility of people standing just outside, listening in to gawk and recount what they've heard and seen. The Kook prince himself is fucking a Pogue. You'll no doubt get looks once you finally leave this little space. Some will be curious and shocked; others will probably be out of disgust and maybe even horror. But that seems so trivial right now. None of it has a place in this moment. It's secondary. And you can't be bothered to give it any attention while he watches you as though you've created the heavens themselves, the same ones that glimmer and wink above this very island. The striking blue of his eyes seeming to burn with something that seems a lot like admiration.

"Hi," you breathe. It sounds a little corny. Kind of dumb, even to you, once you fully register what you've said, but it's all that seems fitting. It's like you're meeting him all over again, as dramatic as that may be. Like you're seeing him for the first time. You can only hope that it isn't just from the high of sex - that it won't all wear off and vanish as soon as you both leave this room and face reality.

"Hey, pretty girl." He returns with a smile of his own. It urges you to lean that much closer to him, drawing your legs up tighter around him to seek out his natural warmth. He complies easily, allowing you to press him flush to you, almost molding your bodies together. It soothes the wounded ache in you that still lies beneath the surface of it all, stinging lowly under the haze of bliss and pleasure. The warmth of him and the pressure of his body smoothing over the hurt like a compress.

But the press of him against your inner thigh draws everything to a hush, hot and heavy under the material of his pants. It shouldn't be possible, but the subtle weight of it against you has another flicker of lust lashing between your hips. Smoldering and heating up like a handful of embers. And suddenly the scent of him filling the air is tempting, all dark musk and cardamom. It's mouthwatering, settling deep in your lungs with every drag of your breath.

It's almost instinctual when you slip one of your hands free from the back of his neck to glide it between the press of your bodies, playful trailing your fingers down and past the stretch of his abdomen until you're able to cup him through the material of his pants. A groan rumbles out from his chest, deep and drawn out before bleeding into a low, almost strained "fuck."

"Still need you, Rafe." You brush your lips over his, gathering the traces of your arousal that's smeared on his mouth onto your own like a vulgar sort of gloss.

"Yeah, shit, okay," he agrees. He nods frantically in agreement, pulling himself back from you just enough to give you the space to start undoing his pants, but your fingers slip on the button, slightly slick from the sweat on your skin and uncoordinated from the zeal of your excitement. Rafe isn't patient enough for you to make a second attempt it seems, restlessly batting your hands away with a somewhat snappy, "Jesus, just let me do it," huffing from him as he reaches to slip the button through the puncture in the material.

The urge to snap at him rises up, but it's snuffed out just as quickly when the sharp metallic sound of the zipper being tugged down its teeth cuts across the heavy air. It all happens in quick succession after that. He tugs his pants down just enough to free the length of his cock. He doesn't give you the ability to admire him, because he's tugging you forward by your thighs, parting the sliver of space between your bodies to drag the head against the slick entrance of your cunt, still wet and messy from the mixture of your cum and his spit.

He tilts his face to be able to speak against your lips, gazing into your eyes with a determination and fervency that seems to cut through you, holding your attention hostage even as one of his hands comes up to grip the nape of your neck. All but pinning you in place.

"I want you to scream for me. Don't you dare fucking hold back."

That's all the warning you get before he's shoving himself inside of you with a single thrust. Burying himself all the way to the hilt, forcing your walls to give and stretch around his girth. Even with the aid of your previous orgasms making you pliant and soaked, there's still a dull ache that zips through you as your cunt clenches around the shape of him. The force of him inside of you all but strikes the air from your lungs, and it leaves your hands to scramble across his shoulders, your fingers gripping and clawing at the fabric of his shirt to ground yourself.

He doesn't waste any time by starting in a slow pace to gradually work up to something greater. He's moving fast and hard from the very start. Thrusting himself in and out of you like he's desperate. All but punching himself into you with enough force to rattle your head back on the glass of the mirror, and with how many times you've knocked against it tonight, you have to send a fleeting prayer up to the universe that it won't shatter and break.

It's like he's trying to make up for lost time. Like he's trying to drill all of his frustrations into you; all of his pent-up anger, humiliation and regret; to make you feel what he's feeling. Or maybe he's just trying to prove a point. To himself, to you, and all of the people outside. That you're his. It leaves you clinging onto him. Holding on while he drives himself into you with a passion that's almost brutal. You can practically feel yourself going stupid. Going pliant and dumb on his cock at it drags through you, gliding against your walls in a way that makes you feel all of him, every little detail. Every single inch is heightened by the veins that run down his length, starting from the base to trail down near the head. He used to go crazy whenever you would glide your tongue over them, throwing his head back and moaning with the sound of your name or a curse under his breath.

You almost wish that you could have him in your mouth right now. To see him break underneath something as simple as your tongue and the heat of your mouth, but you think that you could die if he pulled out of you. It would be a horrendous sort of torture. Worse than death.

"God, you're such a fucking slut, hm?" He almost croons it. Mean and condescending as he grips your cheeks to get you to look at him. Making you get lost in the flecks of cerulean and hints of gray that's nearly become swallowed by the width of his pupils. "Letting me fuck you like this, in some Pogue's bathroom while everyone stands outside. They're probably listening right now; you know that, right? Standing outside while they listen to you moan like a whore."

It's downright degrading how he's speaking to you. It should hurt you to some degree, or make you irritated at the very least, but all it does is make you clench around him harder. Your pussy seizing up around his length like it's trying to suck him inside to keep him there. And he feels it too. You know he does based on the nasty smile that breaks across his face; teeth baring in what almost looks like a snarl. All arrogant and mean.

"Yeah, that's right. Not even gonna deny it, are you?" He uses the hand still secure around you jaw to shake your head for you as though you're a doll. Using how malleable you've been reduced to for his own benefit. "That's right. Cause you're mine. "

You find yourself nodding out of your own volition then, drawing up enough focus to will yourself in moving your head around the grip of his hand to agree. You can tell that it pleases him. His expression is one of pure, arrogant delight, and you know that he'll be riding the high of having you dumb, and cock drunk like this for days. His ego always manages to find a way to inflate whenever he succeeds in turning your brain into liquid and mush; until you're practically mindless and stupid. It used to have him striding around you trailer with a satisfied glint in his eyes. The traces of a smug smirk on the edge of his lips as he'd rummage through your fridge for leftovers or dig through your cabinets for a snack before he'd leave (unsurprisingly, Kildare's most spoiled rich boy can't cook worth a shit - he's burnt eggs black before and left your trailer tinged with smoke that took a good two days to get aired out).

But you can't find it in yourself to be exasperated or annoyed with him while you're too occupied surviving the white-hot heat shooting throughout your body, drizzling down your spine like a vat of liquid sugar to settle between the cradle of your hips. It's too much. It's like being torn to pieces but in the most delicious way possible; you don't want it to stop. You want to stay here, suspended in this moment with the scent of sex and the musk of his cologne staining the air. With the warmth of his body seeping deep into your bones while he uses you for his pleasure while throwing you headfirst into your own; the sound of his name repetitively falling from your lips.

So it's completely cruel that he suddenly pulls out of you, leaving you torturously empty and on the edge of something cataclysmic. A confused, annoyed look crosses your face, and a complaint rises to the tip of your tongue as you openly scowl at him. Though you don't get the opportunity to voice it.

"Turn around. " He commands impatiently, but he doesn't even give you the chance to try and shuffle free from your perch on the counter. It's all an abrupt rushing blur when he tugs you from your spot and forces you onto your feet. His hands settle on your waist, fingers greedily gripping the shape of them as he spins around you on your heels and bends you over with the firm press of his hand. A gasp rattles from your ribs as he pins you on the sink, leaving you exposed to the gluttonous sweep of his eyes.

Then he's kicking your legs apart, spreading you open to bare you to him and without any warning he's slipping himself back inside in a single, long thrust. It has your jaw dropping open, your lashes fluttering at the sensation of it ripping through you, all liquid and smoke. Now that he has you facing the mirror, it gives you no other option but to watch you both as he begins fucking you again. It's like a magnet to metal, the way that your vision flickers up to him. Seeking out the sight of him as he works you closer to that debilitating end.

Not even the way that the harsh edge of the counter digs into the bend in your hips is enough to distract you from it. The pinch of it fading into a dull ache. He looks beautiful like this. Even as he does something as vulgar as watching the sight of his cock ceaselessly plunging into you. It's as though he's hypnotized by it, his own focus fastened to where the two of your bodies join. Where the smack of your skin meeting his sounds out from; the wet slap of him thrusting in and out of your pussy.

There's a blush on his cheeks, and a sheen of sweat glinting softly on his skin like a dusting of pale gold. It almost makes him look angelic. That should be impossible for someone as frantic and violent as Rafe, but there's no denying that there's something gorgeous about him, as volatile and unpredictable as he can be. The sounds falling from past the parted shape of his lips are beautiful. His moans and the almost drunken cursing and rambling douse your nerves with heat and rapture every time he speaks; slurred and low like he's falling apart in the best way possible.

It took you forever to convince him that it's okay to vocal in bed. That the sound of him groaning is a turn on. For the longest time he thought it was a joke, like you were trying to trick him into embarrassing himself. Some odd form of toxic masculinity, you think. But you had finally succeeded in getting him to be comfortable with it, after what must add up to days of convincing him and getting him to moan in bed, he finally gave in. And now it's almost impossible to get him to shut up - not that you would ever dare such a thing. You wouldn't dream of depraving yourself of it now that you have it.

He finally looks up from between your bodies, and you don't miss the way that his eyes nearly roll in the back of his skull, lashes fluttering. He meets your stare in the reflection of the mirror, and that mean smile makes its way on his face again. But it's gone nearly just as quickly as it had appeared. His mouth drops open in a deep groan when your cunt clenches tight around his girth, a crease pinching between his eyebrows to make an expression that almost looks pained.

He leans over you then, hooking his chin over your shoulder to nuzzle his nose against your head to speak into your ear, not breaking eye contact with you even for a split second. "You're not allowed to leave me again. You can't this away from me. You're not gonna take yourself away - not again."

It's structured like a command. Or manic ravings. Regardless, it would enough to send anyone else running the other way and ducking for cover. Someone with common sense, maybe. But the tone of his voice is so desperate. Fragile and a little distraught. Like the very thought of you slipping from him could send him into a spiral. It has so many different things rising up inside of you: a sick type of satisfaction. The hurt in you pleased to see him in just as much pain. To know that you're not the only one who's been scarred. But there's the urge to soothe him as well. To cradle the parts of him that have been broken and kicked - by the world, his family. To nurse the wounds that have been left on him. They all gave up on him, but you don't think that you can.

It has you tilting your head back to give him access to your neck, and like a moth to a flame he immediately dips his face to tuck it into the junction of your shoulder. Nipping at the skin with his teeth and breathing in your scent like it's a drug. One of your hands lets go of the iron clad grip it has on the edge of the counter to clutch at his hair, threading through the thick of it and grazing your nails close to the nape of his neck.

It draws his attention back on you, making him tilt his head just enough to meet your eyes again in the reflection, pinning you with a stare that seems to communicate so much. It's a silent plea and a devout order all at once. A beg that you won't slip away from him.

"Just as long as you don't leave me first," you answer. Your voice is full of conviction, even as it wavers just the slightest. The sound of it weakened by the breathlessness in your lungs and the brutal pace that he's managed to maintain; still thrusting himself into you as though he needs it to survive.

He speaks into your skin then, answering you in a low mutter. Nearly a whisper: "I won't. I won't, I promise."

One of his hands shoves your hips down flat on the counter. It slips your hand from his hair and forces your spine to curve into a more pronounced arch that somehow makes him feel deeper than before. Hitting that spot inside of you with every single stroke. Forcing a gasp of air from your chest every time his hips meet yours, making your toes curl in your shoes. The position that he's tiled your spine into almost stings. The ache of it licking up your back but can't find it in yourself to complain. Or even really care. Not with the way that it's rendering you completely mindless. Seeming to knock a thought from your head with each grind and thrust.

One of your hands flies up to the sink. Your fingers claw and grasp around the shape of it, clenching around the cool steel like it's a lifeline, but it does little to offer any semblance of support to guide you through the high that's beginning to overwhelm you. It bleeds along your toes and sears up your fingertips and up your spine like a current. It has your body going slack, muscles falling weak. It's almost as though you've been tazed when your head drops against the counter. The weight of it suddenly too much for your neck to hold up.

It's like everything's been plucked free from your skull. Leaving it an empty pocket, a vacant space that only Rafe occupies. You can't focus on much more than that now. You're lost in the pleasure lighting you up from the inside out and eating you alive. It's only the vague details that you're still able to register. Like the smear of your arousal slipping down your thighs, pushed out of you each time he pulls out to fill you up again; the sting of the counter's lip digging into your hips; the smack of his balls hitting your clit with every stroke, sending sparks around your cunt, making it clench and pulse around his length. You think that you might be drooling, but you aren't entirely sure; saliva slipping past your lips as your mouth hangs open.

You can hear yourself moaning over the rush of blood roaring in your ears. Breathless, pitchy moans rising in the humid air each time he pumps into you, rolling his hips in a way that's almost mean. The zeal behind every movement would have the crown of your head knocking into the sliver of wall beneath the mirror if it wasn't the secure grip he has on your waist, keeping you held in his grip so that he can control your movements. Practically using your own weight and pliancy to fuck you back onto his cock.

You try meeting his thrusts on your own, but his hold on you is rigid, and the rhythm he moves in is punishing. At this point he's just using you, and simultaneously using himself to get you off like it's his job.

"You're so tight," he groans. You can't see his face, not with the side of your own pressed to the counter and your eyes squeezed shut, but you can hear the smug edge in his tone. He's absolutely thrilled with the state he's reduced you to for the second - third time this night. "You're squeezing me, baby. Gonna kill me if you keep doin' that."

But he quickly contradicts his statement, gripping onto your hair to pull up and off of the counter. Just enough so that he's able to slip his other one past your hips and the fabric of your skirt to glide his fingers around your soaked cunt, just above where he thrusts into you. Gathering your cum on his fingers, and then his slipping them up to circle around your clit.

You would have doubled over if it wasn't for the hold he has on your hair, keeping you held in place. A flare of pain bites across your scalp, but it's a shadow in comparison to the ecstasy flooding your system. It might be dramatic, but a small part of your brain wonders if you'll survive the onslaught of it all once it finally slams over you. It's hurtling towards you again. A rising tide that's set to drown you and hold you down. It flares underneath your skin, skirting across your nerves and leaving traces of heat behind.

It has your body winding up tight again. The muscle connecting you and holding you together seizing up in preparation to wring you dry of every ounce of pleasure, and Rafe is determined to get you there. Working himself inside of you in a way that has your eyes threatening to roll back, his fingers sweeping tight figure eights over your clit, making your abdomen draw up harshly.

"Shit, Rafe - my God."

"I feel you about to cum again. I know you're close. " He says it in your ear, slipping his hand from around your ear to grip your throat, using the leverage to tip you back towards his chest. His nose nudges along your cheek and you can feel the brush of his lips glide over the edge of your jaw. "Just let go. You know you want to. I want you to cum on it. Give it to Daddy, baby; let me feel you, pretty girl."

It's like your body was waiting for his permission, and now that it has it, it's caving in and sweeping you under. Time seems to blank out as a field of stars bursts across your vision. All of it flattening and smearing into a distorted blur with your sense of sound dimming into something dull and muffled. The only distinguishable noise is the roar of your heart thundering in your ears like a warped drum. It makes you lost, muscles lax and completely reliant on him to keep you upright.

It probably only takes seconds for you to come back to yourself, but deep in the throes of it, it feels like years have passed. As though you've been frozen in place and dipped in hot wax and electricity. It bursts in your bones and the pit of your stomach, making your body tremble with aftershocks as it struggles to ride out the waves of bliss ravaging through you.

It takes a minute for your brain to orient itself. For you to become aware of your limbs and the support underneath you, the drag of Rafe's cock still splitting you open. It's beginning to border on too much again. The pleasure is leaning on too sharp and bright, making you hiss under your breath. But Rafe is close. You can hear it in the groans spilling from him. You can feel it in the glide of his hips. The once hard, smooth rhythm faltering into something broken.

"Where do you want it?" He gasps in between raged pants. A glimpse in the mirror lets you see his face and the grimace taking up his expression. Like he can hardly stand the pleasure overtaking him - like it's tugging him apart at the seams and might not leave anything of him left behind. His grip is harsh on the length of your neck. His other fingers squeezing tight on your hip. Hard enough that it's going to smart the skin underneath, and it's with a shaky sense of strength that you manage to lift a hand up to slip over his hold on your hip. Your fingers threading alongside his.

You feel as though you can hardly breath, forcing your lungs to expand and pull in oxygen. Trying to give yourself enough air to form a sentence, and you just barely manage to do that. You practically have to force it out of your throat. "Inside. I'm still on the pill-"

That's all you get to say before he's doubling over you with a long groan. Driving himself into you a few more final, sloppy thrusts. They're sharp and heavy from the force behind them as he tries to work out every possible scrap of pleasure, a rush of heat spreading throughout you as he cums inside - thrusting his hips into yours one last time and holding himself there. Making you take every possible drop.

That's how the two of you stay. Pressed against each other and floating in your own euphoria as the high in your vein's flows and ebbs through your limbs and fills your head with an empty kind of euphoria. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back, syncing with your own as you try to level out your breathing. You aren't sure how long you stay that way, with Rafe draped along your back just barely holding himself up with your joined hands now splayed out on the counter. The thumb around your throat idly sweeps along your pulse point, tracing over your skin like he means to count the racing of your heart.

It all feels thick and syrupy. As though your limbs have been left to soak in a pool of warm water. As pleasant as it is and as hesitant as you are to move, the weight of him simultaneously sagging against you and keeping you held up is straining on your spine and shoulders. The desire to shift from your position is dull, but the ache in your body demands otherwise. You lightly nudge him in the ribs with your elbow, reluctantly mumbling for him to move. To which he complies with a quick, alright, alright, I got it, huffed out, but it lacks any real bite as he detaches himself from you.

It makes you uncomfortably aware of the sheen of sweat that clings to your skin, and when he finally pulls out of you it's even worse. You both groan from overstimulation when he removes himself from you to tuck his cock back into his pants, the metallic cry of the zipper ringing off of the bathroom walls. You can feel his cum trickling down your thighs, smearing across your skin and beginning to cool.

Now that the high of it is wearing off, you just feel gross. It has you turning on your heels to face him, the bottoms of your shoes squeaking on the floor as you pivot to lean your back against the counter with an exhausted sigh. You let your head thud back against the mirror again, but you can't find it in yourself to care this time. Not while you can barely hold yourself upright; the buzz of sex still pleasant and clinging in your body.

You hadn't even realized that you've closed your eyes until a sharp clatter has them opening. Your head also turns on its own, leaning to glance over to your right where Rafe stands alongside you, rummaging through a narrow set of cabinets fixed between the sink and the bathroom door, carelessly glancing around the folded piles of towels and wash cloths.

Your eyebrows furrow as you watch him while your sluggish brain connects the dots. As soon as you come to the realization, you can feel the opposition on the tip of your tongue - ready to say no. To tell him that you can just wad up a pile of toilet paper instead, but he's already plucking a towel up from one of the shelves and gently nudging past you to run the tap, the knob quietly squeaking as he twists it on.

You don't hide your exasperated look when he shuffles away from your side to stand in front of you, reaching to spread your thighs open. You hiss when he runs the damp cloth over you, cleaning up the mess you both made with the aid of the warm water he's soaked the fuzzy material in. You appreciate the gesture, but you still don't think that he had to ruin someone else's towel to do it.

"Really?" You ask, tilting your head as you watch him.

His eyebrows perk up just the slightest when he meets your unamused stare, but he doesn't seem to be troubled by it in the slightest. Once he's finished, he tosses the soiled cloth across the room and into the bathtub without so's much as a glance.

"What? We already fucked in the bathroom; I don't think a towel is going to do that much more damage." He just shrugs, unbothered and nonchalant as he answers. Then that amused, smug smile is on his face again as he casts a look towards the door. "Unless you wanna walk out of here with my cum pouring out of you. I won't complain."

You can't help but to roll your eyes at him while you reach down to tug your skirt from where it had rucked up, smoothing it back down to cling over your thighs, but the expression seems much more playful and relaxed than it should probably be. His usual brand of douchie, cocky sarcasm is already making a comeback now that the tension has left him. It should annoy you, probably, but it soothes you more than anything. It's a comfort, as odd as it may be, to see him gradually resorting back to himself. Arrogant, and a little obnoxious, but in a way that you find entirely endearing.

He notices the traces of the smile on your face. You can tell by the way that his own goes from gloating to a little soft. The tenderness of it reflecting in his eyes as he closes the space between you to settle himself close. His lips are on yours then, drawing you into a kiss that's so much slower than the first. The desperation and the anger between you both having settled and died out like a fire. Now there's nothing left but ease and a relaxing calm. It makes it unhurried and languid as he leads your lips to move against his.

It doesn't last for long though, eventually breaking off for you to come up for air. His eyes are still a little glazed over when you meet them. Dopey from the high of sex, and knowing him, a line or two. He seems so far off from the nervous wreck that he usually is. Free from the aggression and arrogance that usually taints everything he does.

But he's soft with you. Gentle when he wants to be - gentle with you. Only you. And it's going to stay that way if you have anything to say about it.

"Don't ever pull that shit again, Ray." You warn, dipping your voice into something stern despite the affection blossoming in the pit of your chest. " I swear I'll castrate you if you do."

Something like a snicker puffs past his lips, like he finds the prospect entertaining. Or maybe he just likes you being possessive over him. It's probably that. Regardless, he leans closer to you, pulling you closer by your waist and stroking his hands down your hips. "Yes, ma'am, I'll keep that in mind."

You don't get to respond to him. A knock rattles against the door, slow and light enough that it nearly sounds hesitant. Still it causes you to flinch a little, nearly jerking you out from underneath Rafe's hands but he maintains his grip on you, assisted by the way that the counter keeps you blocked in place.

"Hey, uh, I'm not trying to . . . interrupt anything, but you've been in there for a minute, so I just wanted to check and make sure that you're alright." The voice that bleeds past the barrier of the old wood is muffled from the thick of it, but just loud enough that you're able to recognize it as Thatcher's. Embarrassment floods you at the realization. Especially when you briefly think back on your old statement you had promised to him just before leading Rafe out of the kitchen. It'll only be a few minutes. That's what you had told him then. It's definitely been longer than that. Probably closer to thirty - if not longer.

You let your forehead thump against Rafe's chest, a low, defeated sigh leaving you as you consider what to say next. An apology would probably be in your best interest. Just to be polite, for what little it's worth, considering that you and Rafe have all but defiled his bathroom. It makes you wonder how you're even going to be able to walk out of here without cringing underneath the weight of everyone's intrigued - if not disgusted - stares.

"I just made her cum three times in a row, man, but yeah, she's 'alright.' " Rafe replies, irritation and contempt lacing his words like a venom. You truly wish that the floor would split open to swallow you whole as soon as you register what he said. All you can manage is pulling yourself back enough to shoot him a withering glare, but he doesn't appear to be affected by your look in the slightest, far too busy scowling at the door.

"Rafe," you snap. You try to collect yourself, mentally shaking off your humiliation as best as you can and dipping your voice into something pleasant and even to be heard through the door to answer Thatcher. "Yeah, I'm fine. We'll be out in a minute. For real this time." You almost wince when it leaves your mouth. The awkwardness of the situation stretches on when Thatcher doesn't answer immediately. There's a pause and silence before an unsure, stiff "alright" rises up from outside before he presumably leaves.

A relieved sigh leaves you, the breath you were holding leaving you like a deflating balloon as you allow yourself to lean into Rafe once again, finding solace in his warmth to try and detach yourself from the embarrassment of the encounter. His arms slip around you easily. Shifting to take you around the waist in a loose hold that has all of your thoughts settling down into useless background chatter.

"Want to go to yours?" he asks suddenly. It makes you look to him again, shifting back on your feet to observe him from the containment of his embrace. There's the hint of something vulnerable peeking through the blue of his eyes as though he's partially expecting you to deny him. To pull the rug out from under his feet - turning him away. Like it was all just a cruel joke to get back at him.

As wrong as it might be, it feels somewhat vindicating to see him still so unsure. Visibly insecure about where he now stands with you. Mostly because you're in the same boat. This is a new territory for you both, and regardless of the previous words shared, there's still the fear that it was all induced on his part by the high of the moment.

"Then maybe in the morning we can go get breakfast at Merrick's? Just not dinner there though - if we're going out for dinner, then I'm taking you somewhere nice."

That grabs ahold of your focus in easily. Rafe's been to your trailer a hundred times. Sneaking in in the dark and making himself welcome in your home. Using your shower, eating your food, sleeping in your bed. All of these intimate things done as easily as second nature. But something as simple as walking alongside you, as touching you openly in the stark daylight, was a boundary that had never been crossed past casual conversation. Whenever you had associated it was under the guise of eating at your work, or because you had naturally happened upon each other in your day to day lives. There was never any intent behind it. Especially not while in a part of the Eight.

Merrick's is right on the docks, settled in the center coast of the Northside of the island, among the wealthy houses and businesses of the OBX. It's a fairly popular spot among the wealthy locals. Being seen with you there would be a public declaration of sorts. Something that the customers, and employees would take notice of.

"And you're good with that? Being seen with me?" The question leaves you in a pale version of your usual tone. It's hesitant, revealing the fear that begins to pool in your gut. Settling there like a nausea. Now it's you waiting for him to reject you - to backtrack on his promises and leave you standing here in the middle of this bathroom hurting, confused and heartbroken. You could nearly imagine the scornful smile that would tug at his lips, the glimmer of his teeth, the contempt that would burn in his eyes as he pinned you down with an unforgiving stare. You wouldn't survive it.

But it never comes.

"I meant what I said earlier. I don't give a shit what anyone has to say; you're my girl now." Some of his usual hostility seeps through his tone then, biting through the sweetness of it. None of it aimed at you. But it's like he's asserting a challenge for himself and others. Stating a threat to anyone else who may try to oppose him - or you. But it sounds like so much more than just the promise of a possibly verbal conflict. That wild glint is back in his eyes, passionate and determined, and you know now that he's prepared to draw blood for your sake. That he'll break bone and start fires to defend your name if he has to.

It's another one of those things that should repel you - a red flag waving vigorously in the air, but you can't find so much as the hint of an urge to turn and run. To escape and from his explosive nature, but you find warmth and comfort in it. He's like a wildfire. Erratic and starved, lashing out and reaching for anything that might burn and feed it, and like a glutton for punishment, you'll always open yourself to be consumed. Willingly allowing yourself to be licked at by the destructive edge of his nature; picked apart and feasted on. But he'll be there to put you back together again. Always eager to hold you up in his greedy palms, to have you safe in the shelter of them.

Because he's sweet too. Caring when he wants to be. When he's allowed to be - safe from criticism or disapproval. He's been taught to be harsh. A product of his father's love, most likely. But you'll show him a different kind of love if he lets you. Something gentle and nonjudgemental. The sort of affection that he's been deprived of his entire life.

You're his now, and he's yours; rough, violent edges and all.

"Okay," you agree. "Breakfast it is then. And dinner." You nudge his nose up with your own, guiding him to angle his head so that you can place a lingering kiss on the plush of his mouth, feeling the shape of his smile against your lips.

"Alright, and dinner." He nods, raising his hands to cradle your face. Watching you with a gleam in his eyes that looks like he wants to devour you entirely and hold you close. "Just you and me."

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bigification · 10 months ago

Text

Love, Lust, and Leather

"A public intoxication call at 4pm, really?" Daryl complained to his partner.

"These are always the fun ones huh." Ben replied.

"Well it's usually the night shift that's gotta deal with these assholes, why do they have to do this when we're on patrol." Daryl continued.

Ben just chuckled under his breath and shifted his focus back to the road. The two cops quickly pulled up to the bar and approached the entrance, dreading the interaction that was about to happen.

Just as Daryl reaches for the door, it suddenly opens. A suspicious looking man stumbles out of the bar and right into the pair of cops.

"You boys look like you're raring for a good time." The man chuckles.

Daryl shoots a confused look at his partner, "Male prostitute?"

Before Ben could respond, the man butts in. "Oh darling, you wish. I'm talking about you two, you've been stuck in that small car together for far too long to not have thought about what the other looks like under those charming uniforms." The man winks at Daryl.

"Okay, that's enough from you." Daryl reaches for his handcuffs.

"Oh that won't be necessary, I'll be on my way now." The mysterious man starts to walk away. The two cops attempt to grab him, but feel frozen in place. "Have fun you love birds!" The man chuckles as he slips away.

The two cops remain frozen as something begins to change. Their blue and brown uniforms begin to shift into a deep black leather. Their tops turn into expensive looking leather suits and their khaki pants turn to a similar glossy black leather. All their accessories turn into thick black leather with shiny silver accents, their belts, their boots, their gloves, and even their hats all transform.

However, it wasn't just the clothes that would change. Both young men seemed to age into their thirties as their short stubble grew into bushy beards and their hair shortened into a clean buzz cut. Their muscles began to grow, filling their leather clothes until they were skin tight. Their asses simultaneously perked up, filling in the space in their pants. And the bulge in their pants grew larger and larger as their cocks nearly doubled in length and girth. Finally, both of the men felt an itchiness engulf their bodies as thick hairs grew all over their bodies.

As the duo escaped their paralyzed state, all semblance of the cops they once were was now long gone. Memories of training to become a cop were replaced by nights at gay bars, drinking until they couldn't remember how many people they had fucked that night. The two shared a lustful look as Daryl grabbed his hand cuffs, and Ben grabbed his baton.

#male tf #leather tf #reality change #masculine

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meimi-haneoka · 9 months ago

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Clear Card Trivia 3 ~ Sakura's journey of growth and self-understanding throughout Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card

Hello and welcome back to my "Clear Card Trivia" series, a collection of informative posts where I delve into certain aspects of the story of Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card! ✨

The topic I will talk about today has been on my "to-do list" for long time. It's something I felt the need to talk about, and I won't hide the reason why: the desire to fully eviscerate this topic grew particularly after reading around certain criticism of Clear Card Arc. But also after listening to CLAMP's Twitter Spaces, particularly the ones towards the end of the story.

It's something that, setting aside my obvious love for the new characters, will always make me think that Clear Card Arc has been a very welcome addition to the series.

This post will delve into Sakura's growth throughout Clear Card Arc.

Sakura grew up considerably during the story, and had a character development that sadly not many people truly realized.

I'm not talking about an evolution of the character design which, despite changing and evolving throughout the story (as it's expected for a long-running serialization), kept depicting Sakura consistently with quite young looks...no, I'm talking about her mental growth, in relation to her self-knowledge and her relationship with her magic powers.

A journey that might almost feel "frustrating", because it is full of "up and downs", and Sakura sometimes seems to be taking one step forward and two back. Aside from the obvious practical reasons (the plot had to develop several other storylines simultaneously), it very much reflects the realistic growth of a pre-teen, which is never a straight line but is made of improvements and relapses.

Along the journey, I couldn't really avoid mentioning some bits of the development of Sakura's relationship with Syaoran, which will get its own deep and detailed post another day.

There's also an extra about the significance of the Clear Cards in the story, at the end.

I have to be honest, the post is very long, but I tried to insert visual elements to make it easier on the eye. If you're curious to know how the hell I found so much to talk about for this specific topic, follow me under the cut and dive into Sakura's journey throughout Clear Card (it's also a good way to review the story)! ✨

A Disconnected Beginning

Clear Card Arc starts in a very "festive" and happy way: everything is peaceful, a new exciting chapter of Sakura's educational life is starting with the beginning of middle school, Syaoran is back to Tomoeda, this time to stay forever with his beloved girl...everything seems so perfect. And precisely in chapter 1, before everything takes an unexpected turn, we have this scene here, which I consider the "true" beginning of everything:

Sakura says "I haven't been using this lately...well, that's for the better".

At the beginning of Clear Card Arc, Sakura seems to be feeling disconnected from her natural gift.

Despite she had to go on a quest to collect all the Clow Cards, which later she gave a new life to by changing them into Sakura Cards, we have to remember that Sakura was born with magic powers. They weren't bestowed on her by Kero-chan, nor by the contract with the Clow Book: she always had magic in her blood, and it apparently "woke up" on that fateful day she found the Clow Book in the library of her father.

At the beginning of this arc, Sakura seems to think that the purpose, the meaning of this natural gift which is literally part of herself, has been fulfilled by transforming all the Cards, and splitting Eriol's power as he had requested. Her words here seem to be suggesting a general idea of "if I have to use this key (therefore, my magic powers), it means something troublesome is happening, so it's better if I'm not using it because it means everything is okay".

And although we can't really deny that what happened afterwards is far from being able to be considered "peaceful", this scene here always left a bad taste in my mouth because there's almost a negative vibe attached to the idea of her magic, transpiring from Sakura's words. It's almost as if she's politely rejecting it.

Precisely after she places her Star Key in her jewelry box, probably hoping to never have to use it again, she has her first premonitory dream of the events that will shake her life afterwards. Almost as if her powers were trying to tell her "no my dear, this is you and you'd better come to terms with it as soon as possible".

Then, as we all know, the Cards turn blank. Sakura produces a new key while having another dream and a quest to fight and "secure" some strange phenomena happening around her begins, leaving her in a state of increasing confusion.

This is the beginning of the part of the story that I quite literally call "Sakura loses sight of herself".

At this very early stage of the story, she still doesn't know that she started losing control over her increasing magical power, and it is definitely not a coincidence that all of this began when she thought of shutting her main magic tool away in a box, hoping to ignore it forever. For plot reasons, this also happens simultaneously to Syaoran taking the spirits of the Sakura Cards away from her (because in the beginning, you had to be tricked into thinking he was up to something shady and was the real mastermind behind all the incidents).

Syaoran expected for Sakura to lose control over her powers, as his mother predicted a general period of trouble for her that could lead her to unhappiness, albeit without any clear indication of what could happen: Syaoran came to Japan knowing something was bound to happen to his girl and her powers, and that something was going to lead her to grief, but he had no idea about all the rest. So his uncertain and reckless approach, which ended up in some cases worsening the situation, is also somewhat understandable. He was acting like a worried, overprotective boyfriend at his wit's end.

The strange events, which Sakura materializes into a new set of Cards, surely leave her distraught and confused, not to mention the situation with the Sakura Cards and Eriol's missing replies, but I feel that what really destabilizes her core are the constant dreams she gets, sometimes even in the middle of her waking hours, making her faint on the spot wherever she is.

Premonitory dreams are a part of her natural gift that she began to express ever since the OG manga, but she never seemed to really understand them or take them seriously.

This time around, she keeps seeing this cloaked figure and this terrifying dragon, no one speaks a word despite her relentless questions and the cloaked figure seems to be wanting to take her newly made key away (Lilie!!! what were you trying to do!! *facepalm* she probably tried to pull her closer so she could talk to her), so it's just normal that all of that leaves her increasingly stressed and anxious, even though initially you never see her openly and verbally stating that, due to her overall positive nature ("I'll manage it, somehow" is part of her "everything will be alright" invincible spell, and this is indeed what she keeps telling herself in the beginning of the arc, even though in some occasions it turned out to be a double-edged sword, as sometimes it looked more like sweeping her fears under the carpet, to me).

"Something Is Not Right"

Dream after dream, Card after Card, Sakura begins to have these general feelings of discomfort and of "something is not right, here", as she openly states to Syaoran in this scene of volume 4, chapter 14. There's something about this situation that is pricking her sixth sense, and makes her uneasy, but she can't quite put her finger on it yet. All she can do is to keep "fighting" these phenomena happening around her, hoping to find out more along the way. She reiterates the same feeling of uneasiness at the end of chapter 15, after what I consider one of the most concerning side-effects of her poor control over her powers: Sakura seems almost "in trance" while she leads her guardians to the exit of the maze, and acts in a very uncharacteristic, cold way by shoving her bag in front of Yue to make him hold it for her. It's almost as if her magical sixth sense worked too strongly and warped her personality in that moment: an effect that has been mentioned several times in relation to powerful magicians like Clow, Eriol and later Kaito too, so it's not farfetched at all to attribute this one-off occurrence to her loss of control over her strong powers, which ended up affecting her personality too. Luckily, it didn't happen again in the rest of the story and the capture of this Card was completely changed in the anime (a wise decision imho, since the JP fandom is particularly fussy about the integrity of Sakura's character, and she needed to stay "Sakura" in order to do what she did at the end).

At the culmination of a "mini arc" (the visit to great-grandpa Masaki) characterized by uncontrolled visions of Nadeshiko, another frightening dream (one that ended up dragging even Akiho in, due to the synchronization) and Sakura for the first time ever confronting Syaoran about the things he's been hiding from her, we reach the following scene of volume 5, chapter 23.

"I Wish I Had A Mirror"

I always considered this scene extremely important, because for the first time Sakura spells out clearly the inner turmoil that's been gnawing at her soul ever since this ordeal with the new Cards started.

"The truth is...I'm the worst at understanding myself. And that is probably causing lots of concern to everyone." "I wish I had a mirror. A mirror that could reflect the real me. Then, I would probably understand how to not make everyone worry"

Here, Sakura clearly spells out the frustration of knowing, feeling in her bones that there's something wrong with her, something that she's not understanding about herself, and that something is causing problems, but most importantly, is causing her loved ones to worry about her. Let's not forget that not only Syaoran, but also Yukito, Touya, Fujitaka, Tomoyo, Eriol & his family have all been watching her situation in apprehension, each of them making decisions and moving discretely in a direction they felt was right (and admittedly, not all instances were so).

Sakura can somehow feel all of that, she can feel that it's related to something she still hasn't realized about herself. This tends to be forgotten because it happens in a relatively early part of the plot, but notice how this is the same problem Kaito suffers from. A quite stunted ability to understand oneself. Sakura and Kaito definitely have lots in common, when it comes to this specific part of themselves. Keep this in mind, because it'll be relevant later.

And then, the situation worsens.

Sakura's dreams start to terrify her, because they begin to show Syaoran's face under the cloak of the mysterious figure who's scaring her in her dreams. An apparent truth she cannot accept, she won't accept, even though she's still unsure about what exactly these dreams she's having are. Despite her boyfriend has been acting shady for long time, she decides to trust him and wait for him to talk to her about all the stuff he's holding inside, instead of putting him through the wringer. This also means, though, that Sakura will keep all her fears to herself, eventually bottling up.

Furthermore, Kaito starts to rewind time to fix a situation without a way out (in chapter 28, Akiho was on the verge of going berserk completely and unleash the artifact), creating an additional sense of confusion when Sakura can feel that her finger is numb due to strain, but she can't understand why (she had fought Kaito's time magic unconsciously). Whenever Kaito will rewind time, even later on, Sakura's magical sixth sense will try to wake her consciousness up more and more, giving her these vibes of "deja vu" or making her act in an apparently inexplicable way.

In the first part of Clear Card, Sakura sometimes literally looks like a soul wandering about in confusion, dragged by the events.

I wish to point out that this is not a flaw in the characterization, it is a precise design by CLAMP. Sakura IS, in this part of the story, confused and lost, overwhelmed by the events. She has no idea how to approach this matter other than "treating the symptoms" as they come. This happens because she's still, surprisingly, quite reluctant to embrace a fundamental part of herself: her innate magic power, which expresses itself mainly through her intuition. But we'll gradually get there.

Around chapter 30, before the big realization, Sakura's situation reached a point where:

- her Sakura Cards unexpectedly became blank; - almost everyday (sometimes multiple times a day) there's a new incident that she secures into new transparent Cards; - she constantly sees ominous dreams (in scattered order) with a cloaked figure acting in a questionable way and a scary dragon, and at some point she starts seeing her boyfriend under that cloak; - her boyfriend acts shady, Eriol doesn't reply to her messages; - there's a general feeling of "something is not right" with her magic and some stuff starts to not make sense to her (because Kaito rewinds time)

It is at this point that Sakura finally moves one (giant) step forward and connects all the "puzzle pieces" she collected (particularly, how much more "obvious" the creation of a Card became) and understands that she's been the one causing subconsciously each and every single incident that lead to the creation of a new transparent Card.

"I'm Angry At Myself"

And with Syaoran finally coming clean with her (because at that point he had no reason to keep things hidden anymore, as the thing he was trying to delay ultimately happened - and believe me, I'm sure he partly felt relieved to not need to lie anymore, as that took quite a toll on him too), Sakura can at last give an explanation to at least a part of the things that are happening. And she finally realizes that the doubt that was tormenting her was true: she DID, in fact, not understand something very important about herself, she didn't realize that it was her own power going out of control and that all the incidents that happened bore "her magic signature", so to speak. She failed to "tune in" with her magic.

For the first time ever, Sakura expresses anger at herself.

She will direct that anger (to a lesser extent) to Syaoran too, but I'll tackle that in a separate post.

This is a moment of deep reflection and regrets for Sakura: the poor understanding of herself, the poor "communication" between her heart and her magic powers brought to a situation where her most beloved person was putting himself in danger in order to protect her, while trying to not make things escalate. This is a very sensitive, beautiful and important moment, steeped in conflicting and complex feelings (and remember, Sakura is just a pre-teen. It is normal for a pre-teen like her to not understand herself, but there's just one tiny detail: she's not a common pre-teen, due to her natural gift, and she needs to take that into account). Eventually Sakura calms down, and after creating Rewind, her resolute face while hugging tightly Syaoran suggests that from now on she'll face this matter from another, more courageous and determined perspective.

Or at least, these were her good intentions. Because unfortunately, insecurities are hard to eradicate and in the central part of the story it's shocking to realize how far longer Sakura will insist in shutting away her emotions and refusing to listen to her heart (and intuition) fully.

"It's Just My Imagination"

Part of Sakura's anxiety might have been sedated with the revelation that the Clear Cards are produced by the girl herself, but unfortunately the true core of her problems was not solved at all and will only surface more clearly in the next 20 chapters.

Sakura actively starts having "premonitory bad feelings" when she sees Akiho in volume 7 chapter 34, a bad feeling that she does check with Syaoran, but quickly dismisses as "well, it's just my imagination". This will basically be one of the major problems preventing her from reaching the complete control of her magic. Sakura, knowing her magic potential, should've given way more credit to her sixth sense, but her anxiety, her insecurity and her crippled connection to her innate gift still pushes her to dismiss these "signs" as nothing really important or true. Timely as hell, a few hours later something bad will indeed happen to Akiho, where she completely loses consciousness for the first time and the clan/Association actively starts to absorb Sakura's power through the artifact implanted in Akiho. All of this was caused by the high concentration of magic that "triggered" Akiho's artifact (and here I have to sarcastically "applaud" Kaito, just like Syaoran he's another one who does stuff before thinking through, ultimately worsening the problem).

Once trapped in Akiho's artifact, thanks to her power Sakura can see the most horrifying glimpse of Akiho's past, when she was turned into a magic artifact, by living it on her own skin. And even though Kaito is forced to rewind time once again to save the situation, erasing these memories from Sakura's head, her heart (which is tightly connected to her magical sixth sense - I'd daresay her heart is straight up the source of her magic) DOES REMEMBER, pushing Sakura to act in an apparently irrational way, crying and hugging Akiho tight in empathy. Sakura is particularly shaken by this feeling, still in pain even hours later, but once again she doesn't understand where it comes from. However, she does express with Syaoran an intention to talk to him about it once she's able to put it into words, and in the meantime do her best with all the rest. At least, there's an intention to understand better this part of herself, but it's still soon to see actual results.

Aaand CLAMP really seem to be wanting to test Sakura in this arc, because at this point of the plot, they add the electrocution spell. 😅 No one seems to understand who caused it (it's not Sakura, nor Kaito, but now we know it was none other than Yelan!!) and Sakura's anxiety increases once again. The fact only Syaoran gets affected by it inevitably reignites the doubts in her mind, unwittingly reminded of that terrifying dream of Cloaked Syaoran she keeps seeing...but she stubbornly keeps telling herself "no, it's not like that, it's just a dream". It's undeniable that this situation where she cannot understand her foretelling dreams yet, and the way they show her scattered hints because her power is out of control, has surely contributed to Sakura's insecurity when it comes to trust her own intuition.

Her power is so out of control at this point, that even when Kaito shrinks her and throws her in a hole carved into a tree (landing in a "world" created with magic where he hopes she'll create the right Card) her dreams take over again (it's apparent by the "shaaan" sound and how everything turns suddenly pitch black, a common background of her dreams), showing her Akiho in the dress she was wearing when she was turned into an artifact and, inevitably, Sakura's biggest fear, "Cloaked Syaoran". Pay attention because these visions she's getting here thanks to her power match what will happen later on: what the talking flowers tell her here will turn out to be the beginning of the lyrics of the main theme of the "Alice in Clockland" play. This vision of Cloaked Syaoran seemingly "about to do something" to Akiho horrifies Sakura to the point of screaming in terror and creating one of the most unsettling Cards, "Break". It is after this very scary moment that Sakura starts to wonder very specifically for what purpose she is creating all these Cards. The purpose is actually more than one, but she definitely posed herself THE RIGHT question, as this brings her one step closer to the core of the problem and eventually embracing her own magic abilities.

Then, between chapters 43 and 45 we finally start to see some changes in Sakura: surprisingly, she begins to listen more to her sixth sense, first catching Yukito red-handed while activating a newly acquired magic, and then wondering about a strange painful feeling in her chest when her father tells her that lately she and Akiho became even more similar. We were all lead to believe that this was the foreshadowing of Akiho taking her place (cause everything in the plot at this point deceivingly hints at Kaito wanting to switch them), but she actually was getting foreshadowings of the "rewritten world", where Sakura would genuinely feel wrecked to know that someone important to Akiho was missing, precisely when Akiho would've become part of her family as her twin. In fact, in chapter 45, before falling completely asleep, she hears again the ominous "you won't be able to come back" (the Association's threat to Kaito), wondering WHO wouldn't be able to come back - somehow, Sakura knows that it's not directed at her.

"Just Tell me Honestly How You Feel"

And then, we reach another moment that I consider pivotal for Sakura's growth during this Clear Card Arc. The moment when she's on the verge of breaking down and finally lets all her feelings out.

Her anxiety over the dream with the Cloaked Figure reached the highest peak, so much that she finally manifests a Card, Mirage, that challenges her precisely with that appearance. While Sakura battles that Card (which at the moment she still believes it's an actual person), she seems resoluted to get to the bottom of this story, and to pull down that hood to know the truth. You can really feel that she's so done with all this psychological torture. The fact the real Syaoran appears right at that moment and she finds out the person she saw was just a Card is partly a relief for her, but also throws Sakura again in despair because who the hell is that person in the dream, then??

Syaoran, as the good and attentive boyfriend he is, can just feel that Sakura is stressing over something, so he brings her to his home to help her calming down. And to her umpteenth attempt at sweeping her negative emotions under the carpet, beating around the bush commenting over the tea with a fake smile, he cuts immediately her bullshit and just tells her : "You don't need to force yourself. Just tell me how you feel right now". When she hears that she's allowed to speak out her emotions with honesty, Sakura wears on her face one of the most heartbreaking expressions of the entire manga. She's literally about to break down in tears of exhaustion, as you can see it above. ☝️ Listening to her, gradually, Syaoran encourages Sakura to get out all that's been torturing her lately, particularly about the dream with the Cloaked Figure. It is a very difficult moment for her, because she has to relive the dream, and expose in front of him all the fears and doubts that were trying to tamper with her trust in him. Courageously, she goes through with it, even though her denial ("it's just a dream!") is so strong that she ends up creating another Card: "Dreaming". Sakura at first seems relieved to see the Card, in the hope that everything she saw was indeed a mere messed up dream and nothing else (see? she's again self-sabotaging her relationship with her magic) but Syaoran with his frankness is quick to bring her feet on the ground: the kanji on the Card show "yumemi", and the word can also indicate a "foretelling dream".

Although Sakura seems disheartened at first, her next dream with the Cloaked Figure is much more relaxed, so much that even the dragon doesn't particularly scare her anymore: our girl's intuition makes her correctly feel a sense of loneliness in this dream, which she attributes to the hooded figure, not realizing that it was more likely coming from the dragon itself (aka, Kaito). After all, in chapter 72, Lilie will confirm that her presence ended up distracting her from the one "character" she should've paid all of her attention to. Her intuition, despite being misattributed, ended up having a positive effect through the synchronization with Akiho: the girl will wake up with the same feeling of discomfort of her friend, and as if guided by hitsuzen, she will head to the garden where she'll find a sickly Kaito staring at the moon - most likely feeling the loneliness Sakura perceived in her dream. I like to think that in this scene of chapter 48, Sakura subconsciously helped Akiho comforting Kaito, by waking her up with the unresting feeling, precisely when Kaito needed it the most. Still not completely embraced her magical sixth sense yet, but a significant improvement.

The road between chapter 48 and chapter 52 is paved with lots of struggles, as the Mirror Sakura Card gets stolen by Kaito, Sakura runs the risk of being absorbed into Akiho's artifact again, she meets Momo for the first time and she's even given a hint about Kaito's plan (or what Momo thought was his plan, as he had benignly lied to her about that), but almost all of that gets rewound and erased when Kaito intervenes. Moreover, despite not remembering anything consciously, Sakura is left with a sense of unhappiness when she looks at her home, a remnant of her brief journey in the world of Momo's book which straight up threw her into despair, showing her what her life would be if everyone forgot about her. She also finds once again a Card produced out of nowhere, "Time": I'm convinced she produced this Card because her conscience was awake while Momo and Kaito talked in stopped time, and their conversation triggered her sixth sense to produce Time as a result. Needless to say, all of this worsens her state of mind once again, which leads to the other pivotal, and finally resolutive, scene of chapter 52.

Never Avert Your Eyes From Your Heart

We finally get to what I consider THE scene, the one that will definitively shake Sakura from her deadlock, from the anxiety that stunted her connection with her innate gift and her deepest emotions. And the one who helps her overcoming all her fears is, of course, the love of her life - with a honorable mention for none other than his mother Yelan!!

Chapter 52 got a very, very special place in my heart, because it's basically one giant parallel between SyaoSaku and YunaAki. The two pairings experience similar situations, but the response from one side of each pairing is quite different. Let's remind you for a moment of the part earlier in this post when I told you that Kaito and Sakura, for most of Clear Card, surprisingly have one thing in common: they don't seem to understand themselves well enough, and both have a tendency to look away from feelings that cause unrest to their hearts - anxiety for Sakura, love for Kaito.

Syaoran, always attentive and observant towards his girlfriend, notices immediately that Sakura is suffering, as soon as he sees her at school. Despite being unable to touch her to comfort her, he offers all of himself to support and listen to her concerns. Sakura is visibly and pleasantly surprised of how the boy could read behind her mask, that usual contrived smile with which she tries to dissimulate her emotions and not make him worry. A bad habit she's consolidated lately, but that Syaoran is gently determined to dismantle. After opening up with him (and this is where Sakura differs from Kaito - by having an established relationship made of love and trust with Syaoran, Sakura lowers her walls with him), she falls once again into the usual trap of "but maybe it's just my imagination" and I love to see how Syaoran is her anchor to the ground, making her see the concreteness of this situation: he straight up tells her "you produced a Card out of it, it cannot be 'just your imagination'. " And then, like a precious family gift, he passes on to her the priceless words of wisdom of his mother Yelan, an advice that not only Sakura, but also the other "lost soul" of the other paralleling pairing should listen to:

"People with magical power should never ignore the turmoil and stirring in their hearts, the so-called 'intuition'. And it’s not limited to people with magical powers. People should never avert their eyes from the changes in their heart."

This is a turning point for Sakura. These words seem to positively "break" something inside of her, showing her the correct path to follow. CLAMP beautifully portray this process of "embracing and assimilating" the words she's just heard, by making her place her hand over her heart. I love when they do that (they used the same visual when Akiho heard Kaito's true name, and 'wrote it' on the most important page of the book of her life). Sakura is truly grateful for the words Syaoran relayed to her, precisely what she needed to get out of her impasse with her feelings and magic. She knows she can always count on the support of her soulmate even in the darkest moments, and she's thankful for having him in her life.

From this moment onwards, Sakura will experience several instances where her magical premonitory senses give her signals through the "stirring" of her heart. Contrarily to before, she starts to actively take them seriously, listening, without dismissing them as the delirium of an anxious little girl. This allows her to activate the Siege Card in the fraction of a second, successfully shielding herself from Kaito's time magic, making her the first person ever who achieved that. This also leads her to effectively remember that she saw Kaito using magic, even when time was rewound by him, and contact immediately Syaoran to talk about it, planning how to move from that moment onwards. A little relapse on her bad habit is immediately dispelled by Syaoran, and our girl even goes as far as saying "there's something inside Akiho", even though she's not sure exactly why she's feeling that way. But it's an intuition she's having and she decides to not dismiss it anymore, with everyone trusting and supporting her in that direction. By listening more and better to what her heart tells her, Sakura also decides to not confront Akiho about Kaito and his magic, because she's well aware of the feelings Akiho got for Kaito and she doesn't want to potentially disrupt their relationship. So, she decides to wait for her friend to talk about it first.

Thanks to this better understanding of her own intuition, she also says in chapter 57 that she wants to meet the guardian of the book "Alice in Clockland" once more, despite not remembering if and when she's met her before. This also ultimately leads her to accept the role of Alice in the upcoming play scripted by her friend Naoko, because her sixth sense tells her that it's inevitable for her to do so. It's important to emphasize how the other characters support and encourage her to listen to her innate gift, at this point, without trampling over her self-determination like they did before.

It is a moment of big growth and character development for everyone.

The Ultimate Growth: Finding a Meaning and a Purpose

What happens afterwards is history: the fateful "Alice in Clockland" play unfolds, and Kaito completes his plan to push Sakura to create the Card he needs, exchanging his magic artifact (the watch) with Akiho's one (the book), in addition to activating the forbidden magic to rewrite the memories of everyone, to fit Akiho as part of Sakura's family.

Sakura's intuition will be crucial to wake her true self up while in Clockland, succeeding in beating Kaito's magic multiple times, till Syaoran comes in and gives the "final blow", cutting off the spell definitively.

And even when everything seems lost because Kaito successfully activated the fobidden magic, changing their memories and erasing himself from their existence, Sakura's magic and sixth sense keep making her say things she either already said or heard before in the "unrewritten world". Not only that, but even after meeting Lilie in a dream and forgetting her face (due to the strong influence of the forbidden spell), bit and pieces of that conversation keep coming back to her, and she listens dutifully to every single one of these "feelings". Kaito might have overridden part of their memories (only the ones concerning him, Akiho and the events connected to the creation of the Cards), but the experience, feelings and personal growth of each character were left untouched, that's why the chemistry between Sakura and Syaoran is the same as before the play started, but also Sakura's personal relationship with her magic is far better than before (an information that might have seemed random and unimportant is that now Sakura summons Mirror even just to chat, an indication of her completely changed perspective on her magic).

Now that Sakura finally embraced her magical power, all that's left for her is to find a true purpose for it.

A question echoes in my mind, "What am I creating these Cards for?". Sakura poses herself this question halfway through the story, and she finds the answer to it precisely at the end of the journey.

Her powerful magic intuition, combined with her immense empathy, leads her to realize that somebody is missing from their reality, and that person is the one Akiho loves. At this point Sakura is unstoppable: she wants to listen to the voice in her heart that's screaming "Go and help them!! Give the true happiness back to Akiho!", and everyone can only follow her lead as she assertively puts into practice what her heart is telling her to do.

Sakura in this final part of the story shines brighter than ever. She's more assertive and self-confident than ever. All of this is because there's something she strongly wants to do with her innate gift, as Eriol unequivocally says in chapter 75: her power grows exponentially again, but this time it's not out of her control - it is Sakura herself who's voluntarily boosting it, thanks to her strong wish. And that allows her to control it and use it exactly as she wants.

In chapter 79 her growth reaches the highest peak, by handling the resolution of Akiho and Kaito's personal problems in an admirable way (she steps aside for a moment to give Akiho all the agency she needed), but also finding herself in front of an uncomfortable dilemma, which leads her to an unavoidable reality: Sakura quickly understands that she cannot be on everyone's side and there are lines to be drawn at some point. She can't be a pure and oblivious girl forever. She needs to grow up. There are choices to be made, especially when dealing with real evil people.

And Sakura choses to go on with the people she loves, even if that means she has to "stain" her "moral record" a little bit.

Empowered by this strong wish to fix the situation, she literally gives life to a miracle, protecting her dear friend and her beloved from the grasp of their abusers, simultanously giving everyone their true memories back. The effort exerts her greatly, but what she achieved is by far the most important thing she's ever done with her magic power till now: she helped two dear people lost in a life-and-death situation. Her magical growth went along with her personal, mental one.

This is also the reason why the accusations of "the other magicians should've trained her" end up being in vain: Sakura's problem with her powers was mainly on a personal level, not on a technical one. This was a journey she had to mainly walk by herself, finding the right balance and confidence in her abilities, deep down in her heart.

No one could've done that for her.

Merely training the practical aspect of it would've just worsened the situation, because Sakura wouldn't have been truly "in it" with her heart and mind. She needed to go through this process of growth, before reaching this stage of self-awareness in relation to her magic powers. I truly feel this is the reason why CLAMP made certain choices inside this story. Again, as I always say, a good part of Cardcaptor Sakura does revolve around magic, but the main focus and linchpin of this story is and always will be the main character's heart, her growth and the interpersonal relationships with her loved ones.

This makes Clear Card Arc, in my opinion, a worthy sequel and a full-fledged part of the Cardcaptor Sakura series. I think those who decide to skip it or read it with a superficial approach miss a journey of tremendous growth for our beloved protagonist.

So much for those who kept saying "This is not Sakura's story".

How can all that ☝️ NOT be Sakura's story?

I'll let you judge. 😊

Extra: The Significance of the Clear Cards

I want to digress for a moment about a thorny topic: the significance of the Clear Cards in this story.

Sakura isn't always completely passive towards the events happening around her, but wonders several times during the story why all those Cards are manifesting like that. While the first and easiest answer is of course "because her powers are going out of control" (and this is something Momo herself questions Sakura about in chapter 50), it becomes apparent at some point that the more the story goes on, the more the Cards that are created by her are particularly relevant and connected to the events that will happen in the final part of the story.

I know this is a sore spot for many who complain about not understanding the purpose of the Clear cards. It's because people tend to compare this set of Cards with the ones Sakura captured previously. That's not the right way to look at them, because their origin and purpose are different and change throughout the story. Forget about the Sakura Cards, even though so many of these "Clear Cards" (which are never called so, not even once, in the story itself, but just "new cards" or "transparent cards") might look so similar in purpose to the previous ones.

First of all, the Clear Cards are an outlet for Sakura to vent in a healthy way her power in excess. Power that if kept inside, untapped and confined in her body, might have unpredictable harmful effects on her (<- probably the grief Yelan foresaw). God bless the Clear Cards for existing and allowing Sakura to vent out these bouts of uncontrolled power in a relatively safe way.

The Cards that Sakura produces in the beginning are sometimes reminiscing of the Sakura Cards, because her power manifests itself basing on Sakura's experiences, feelings, thoughts and wishes. The Sakura Cards are an important part of her life (before Syaoran took them, she literally acted like their "mom", keeping them alive with her power) so it's only normal that the first base for some of these new Cards would be a magic tool that she already knows. In this sense, it becomes easier to understand why many of the "captures" seem so easy, way too easy compared to what a reader would expect from a sequel: the goal of the capture here isn't to make her power and experience in capturing cards grow. She already had 2 arcs to do all of that. The capture of the Cards in this third arc becomes something new and unexpected: a "damage control" of a regrettable situation with Sakura's powers, while she learns to dominate them and enter into harmony with her supernatural abilities. The growth Sakura needs here is mainly a mental one. Performing her magical power aimlessly without having a true connection with it and a true understanding will only exacerbate the problem. This is the reason why, despite having a "capture" element, Clear Card derails from the previous arcs in the purpose of the capture. It's a pity that an element that should've brought freshness to the plot was in many cases received as an actual flaw.

In the beginning, as Sakura's power is completely out of her control, some Cards might look completely random too - they don't look based on Cards, thoughts or wishes (like Appear, Reflect, Action, etc.). But pay attention, because the more the story goes on, the more the Cards begin to become particularly specific to something that shook Sakura's heart in that moment, or referencing events/feelings that will become pivotal to the events Sakura will experience later. Especially regarding Kaito's plan. Many of the later Cards Sakura produces are a direct reflection of the feelings and wishes that Kaito infused in the activation of the forbidden magic, with the creation of "the story for Akiho", the one he wanted to absolutely have a happy ending for. Cards like Repair, Promise, Choice, Kindness, True and False, Synchronization, Rewind....many of them didn't even get to express their magical abilities in a "conventional way" (everyone expected to see Sakura literally activating them like she does with all the others), but it's just because at that point the Cards Sakura is producing are born following her premonitory intuition: thanks to the hints/speeches that those Cards give her in Clockland, Sakura little by little regains consciousness of her true self (it's a pity that many English readers will never realize all the times Sakura was about to "wake up" in Clockland, because the translation didn't respect the change in fonts of the JP text). Sakura wasn't supposed to "use" them in a conventional way (how do you "use" Kindness? You force people to be "kind"? 🤨 and what about Choice??), she was supposed to listen to them and let them guide her towards the truth. This is also the reason why all of these Cards bear the face of her loved ones. Think of them as tarots. Which is, incidentally, another use of the original Clow/Sakura Cards. I am basically sure of this interpretation because the kanji of some of those Cards I mentioned above are brought up during the climax: particularly when Akiho talks to Kaito in chapter 78, she uses two specific verbs, referring to Kindness (慈愛 - a kind of gentle and tender love) when she describes the love and support her family gives her in this rewritten world, and to Choice (選択) when she questions Kaito about his choice to disappear completely from her life. So to summarize, the last Cards Sakura produced "accidentally" weren't accidental at all, but were actually specifically produced by her power in reference to Kaito's plan, to help her finding the way out to a dire situation. This represents a very important indicator in the plot: at that stage of the story, Sakura started to listen more and more to her intuition and her sixth sense, finally quitting her bad habit of downplaying it ("maybe it's just me") but actually giving it credit and taking it seriously, trusting her instinct to lead her in the right direction. And this was, of course, all thanks to the speech Syaoran gave her back in chapter 52. It is also the case of the Rewind Card, which Sakura will ultimately understand the purpose of on her own, at the very end of the series. That's the moment where everything will become clear and make sense to her: "This Card, too...I created it precisely for this moment". The Clear Cards ultimately became the embodiment of her foretelling powers. Which then led to the birth of the first two consciously created Cards, Blank & Remind, which will become so important in the climax.

If we ever get a new arc in the next years, we'll certainly deal with a more mature Sakura, who's more in sync with her magical powers 🩷.

#card captor sakura #cardcaptor sakura #clear card arc #ccsakura #sakura card captor #clamp #sakura kinomoto #syaosaku #clear card trivia #I hope this post will make you look at Clear Card from another perspective #I'm sorry for the length but I really wanted to make a deep dive

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rogersideup · 9 months ago

Text

｡°✩ ♊︎ The Gemini♊︎ ✩ °｡

Chapter 9

Star Crossed Lover

Series Masterlist

Previous Part: True Romantic Next Part: May 20th

Word Count: 10,607 (I am SO sorry lol)

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of violence, blood, and injury. Allusions and discussion of suicide attempts. Please proceed with caution and and good judgment for your own personal mental health 💞

The drive to your team welcoming at the winery made 45 minutes of highway feel simultaneously far too long yet excruciatingly short.

After what happened in the corridor, you really didn't have much to say. The only words really spoken between you and Steve was you thanking him for getting the car door for you, then him insisting that you played your music.

After a few minutes on the road, Steve stole a few quick glances at you to try and gauge how you were really feeling, but your head was leaned all the way back against the headrest, and your eyes were always either closed or staring absentmindedly on the scenery around you.

He took no offense, in fact, he was glad that you were calm at the very least. Deep down he knew you were always feeling at least a little worse- if not a lot worse than you expressed to anyone. But like always, there was a time and place to address issues. Pulling into a parking spot at the winery and putting his car into park was not the time, nor the place.

Taking a quick peek through his rearview mirror, he could see a few special guests had already arrived, and he could only hope it would help ease the distress you never deserved to have inflicted on you.

Steve turned to you with an empathetic grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Last chance to run away?"

You turned your head to look at him with a lazy smile, and an unexpected giggle. "I can't run in these shoes."

"If it gets too overwhelming, you know I'll be here. Just tell me, I'll sneak you away for a bit of fresh air." He reminded you.

"You're making me feel like I'm about to be eaten alive" You raised your eyebrow.

Steve shook his head. "No, you're not. I've been on this team for so many years I stopped counting and even I still get overwhelmed by all of them sometimes. Things like this can be a lot even on a perfectly good day."

"I'm guessing I'll relax after a glass of wine or two" You reassured him and yourself. "It'll be like nothing ever happened, nobody even has to know."

That sent red flags raising high in Steve's head. Now he knew for sure you were in worse shape than you were letting on.

"Bug," Steve shot you a serious glare. "You can be sad, it's okay to be sad."

"I'll be sad later." You surrendered. "Right now I'm so happy and honored to be part of such a welcoming and supportive team. We're all going to have a wonderful night, and everything is going to be fine."

"Promise me right now that after this is over you'll cut the bullshit and stop telling me you're fine." Steve held out his pinky to you. All you did was narrow your eyes at him, you knew he could read you like a book far below his intelligence level, and it was equal parts endearing and frustrating. "We both know that's a lie, and we both know there's no reason for you to have to go through any of this alone anymore. We both know this is the beginning of the end of all of your suffering, and should it get worse before it gets better, you have a whole team of people who want to help you and be there for you."

"Fine." With an internal defeat, you wrapped your pinky around his. "I'll be sad later, but only if you get me a glass of wine while I socialize so I don't seem like a bitch for booking it to the bar."

"Great" Steve smiled, shaking your intertwined pinky fingers, locking in the deal. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"This is the worst deal ever." You shook your head with a smile on your face while reaching for the car door handle.

An immediate gasp full of personal offense left Steve faster than you anticipated, and you got ready for the fight you two had nearly every time you got into a car together. "Do not reach for that car door ma'am."

"Twinkles, I have two fully functioning arms and legs. I can open my own car door." You made the same argument you've made a million times before.

"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should." Steve shook his head at you, his face full of disappointment. "Stay right there before I put the child safety lock on the passenger side of the door."

"Logistically, it'll take more time for you to get out, walk around, open my door, wait for me to get out, then close my door than if I were to just get out on my own." You laughed.

“Yeah well, logistically, this reoccurring argument takes a lot of time as well yet you always seem to want to spark it." Steve spoke as he got out of the car, his door closing behind him. Very quickly making his way to you, he opened your door and offered you his arm to help you out. "See, didn't take that long. Look, this is an unpaved parking lot and you're wearing a pretty high heel which means you could've tripped and fallen and broken an ankle, and it would've been all my fault."

"How could you possibly sleep at night?!" You agreed sarcastically as you got out of the car, and he closed the door behind you.

"I never do." Steve noted. "This is why I have insomnia."

"Too many women and too many unpaved parking lots in this world." You agreed, walking with him towards the entrance. "We really need to contact someone about this."

It didn't take long to enter the beautiful outdoor space that was far too big to be reserved just for the team. You immediately felt like you were the main character of a hallmark movie, strings of twinkling lights shined above your head, the grounds were well maintained, full of plants, tables, and even a dreamy gazebo that was also illuminated by strings of lights.

There were candles lit along pathways and atop the standing tables, booths open that served food, and no less than 20 different wine options, and a whole bunch of friendly faces that all started clapping and cheering when you walked in.

Definitely not expecting that much immediate attention, your cheeks widened into a smile and deepened in color before your hands moved up to hide your face. It only took a few moments before you were brave enough to peak through your fingers to recognize faces you didn't quite expect to be there.

All you expected were the avengers that lived in the compound or near by, but to see faces like Thor, Clint, and even that Spider-Kid who definitely was not 21 and was out passed his bedtime was a pleasant surprise.

Another pleasant surprise was the sweet faces of your mom and dad, sister and brother in law, and a handful of your friends from back home.

Your hands dropped from your face and showed off your full toothy smile and pink cheeks that Steve loved so much it made his heart skip a beat.

It nearly dropped out of his chest and deep into his stomach when you turned to him. "Did you invite them?"

"Of course I did" Steve nodded with a cheeky smile. "I wanted you to feel more comfortable, and you deserve to be celebrated by your family too, not just ours."

Much like earlier in the day when he gave you the suit, your arms flew around him fast and tight. It was shorter this time due to the audience, but Steve still loved it nonetheless. "Thank you so much, you're so sweet."

"You're very welcome" Steve smiled. "I'll go get us some wine like I promised, but I do feel like I need to say hello to your family first considering I've been texting them to arrange this. But I'll be quick!"

"I have so many questions" You raised your eyebrow at him.

"Save them for later!" Steve told you while walking straight towards your parents.

With full trust that nothing chaotic would happen in that interaction, you scanned faces once more and realized Bucky and Nat were missing. You knew why, but it made your happy mood deflate again until Thor was the first of the bunch to walk up and introduce himself.

You made your way through Bruce, Carol, and even said hi to Maria Hill regardless of the fact that you worked with her many times before.

Steve did make it to you with a glass of wine in each of his hands between your interactions with people. "Here you go, Bugs. Not quite sure what this wine is but I told the nice girl at the bar you liked white wine so she poured you her favorite."

"You're the best." Your cheers your glass against his.

"Ugh, I know right?" He agreed sarcastically, drinking down a grin with a sip of red.

Your quick interaction with Steve made your family approach you to celebrate, but he definitely wanted you to have your time alone with them so he slipped away just as fast as he came.

Lots of hugs, lots of chatting, then lots of them pushing you away to go hang out with the Avengers.

Somewhere between Peter Parker and more time with Sam, a quick scan of the crowd had you realizing that now the Avengers were co-mingling with your family and friends. Oh, and Bucky and Natasha finally got there 45 minutes into the actual event.

Lost in conversation with Scott Lang about the most recent episode of that one sitcom he so happened to bring up, a pair of forearms wrapped around you from behind.

You pretty much expected it to be anybody but Natasha, but you were pleasantly surprised that she was already so comfortable with you. "Sorry we're late, but Rogers' mess is cleaned up and you'll never see it again. Also, you look hot in that dress."

There was no chance to thank her or apologize for the mess as she quickly galavanted off into the crowd.

Scott was pulled away from you about 10 minutes later, and your glass became empty of wine. Feeling mildly confident at this point that you had at least introduced yourself and greeted everyone there, you felt comfortable enough to go get a refill on your own.

Another heavy pour and you were back out. Conversation flowed a lot easier than expected between the groups you found yourself in. There was always something to talk about, laughter was a common occurrence, but somehow the mess in the corridor kept seeping into your mind no matter how hard you tried to push it down.

Eventually Bucky found his way to you, and somehow the comfort of one of your best friends helped quiet down all of the unnecessary noise in your brain.

In true Bucky fashion, he approached with plenty of food in hand. Setting a full wood fire pizza on the table, he pushed the whole tray towards you.

"You haven't been eating enough for someone at an event with free food" He noted.

"Hello to you too" You grinned, taking down another big gulp of wine.

"Steve told me you were worried about me." Bucky's face softened.

"I'm always worried about you, that's what friends are for." You agreed with Steve's statement.

"You know what that agent said about me tonight is nothing but water off a ducks back." He reassured you. "But what he said about you is what bothered me. That is what I take personally, and that's what I can't let anyone get away with."

You sighed. "What did you do, Buck?"

"Nat fired him, we both got him on some gnarly lists to ensure he's going to have a hard time finding another job." He explained. "I think Steve did enough damage that the dumbass will probably never reproduce, which is probably a blessing to the next generation. We didn't help him up though, he can figure that out himself."

"Don't you think that's a bit harsh?"

"If it was up to me. I wouldn't have left it at just his balls, but I digress" Bucky shrugged. "I'm really happy you're back, Buggy. I've been smiling all day knowing you're here."

"Well for what's it's worth, I'm sorry people have been saying rude things about you because of me, and I'm happy to be here to hopefully get back on the right foot. I missed you and Steve a lot these past couple of months."

"It's not your fault, so I'm not accepting that apology." Bucky denied. "But I will accept a hug because I missed you too."

"Tough crowd." You grinned before wrapping your arms around him and leaving them there for a while.

Then, he started whispering in your ear. "This was a trap I just wanted to gossip in peace"

You let out an uncontrollable laugh, starting to feel the effects the wine had on you. "What's up? What's the gossip?" You tried to whisper back but it was a little hard to get the words quietly past your smile.

"Has Steve kissed you yet?" Bucky asked in a dramatic whisper.

“No, I don't think he ever will." You denied. "But I just got back last night, give him some grace."

"I don't think he will either. He's really scared of you." He agreed with you. "Do you need me to yell at him for that? Or I can just kind've shove your faces together when I find the opportunity?"

He pulled another laugh from you. "No, it's okay. He's scared, he needs to go at his own pace."

"Have you admitted to yourself that you like him yet?"

"Unfortunately you knew that before I did, but yes, and I told him that too."

"Good, good." Bucky started to pull away from the hug, but your wrapped your arms tighter around him.

"Tell me about you and Nat now" You trapped him.

"Well I'm not a scaredy cat like Steve is so... Girlfriend."

You gasped with a smile and pulled back to observe his face. But it was obvious he wasn't lying to you, so you lit up once more. "I'm so happy for you!"

Raising your hand up for a high five, Bucky hit his metal palm against your hand.

From across the winery and under the gazebo, Steve watched this whole interaction between you and Bucky. He was pleasantly surprised when jealousy never rushed through his veins watching the two of you hug.

Thats when Steve realized how secure he felt with you now. He understood now more than ever that you and Bucky were purely platonic, and it was evident in the way you two looked at and touched each other. In fact, he even felt a sense of warmth and happiness watching you two have a secretive conversation that wasn't so slick. Maybe it would've been a little more discreet had you been a bit more sober, but he found it endearing nonetheless. He found himself feeling hopeful that soon enough the three of you really could smooth over the damage and go back to hanging out together, a notion that once felt impossible.

He was even happier when he saw the both of you take a slice of pizza, cheers, then eat together.

After that, he stopped watching. He was so content knowing that Bucky was keeping an eye on you. Maybe that's where he overestimated his false sense of security, because along with the pizza, Bucky brought you another glass of wine which only meant you were feeling sillier and more socially confident by the second.

At some point Steve fell deep into conversation with your dad, they were getting along so well, in fact, he hadn't even noticed that he spent about a whole hour and a half alone under the fairy light illuminated gazebo with him. They also didn't notice that you were getting along with the team so well it's like you were always part of the little family to begin with.

He didn't catch you and your sister flipping each other off from across the venue as often as you could, he didn't see the way you and Peter made a secret handshake, or even when you exchanged phone numbers with Bruce. He missed Sam making you laugh so hard you nearly peed your pants, then you, Nat, and Wanda disappearing to the bathroom for a solid ten minutes then coming back with your lipstick magically perfect again.

He also missed your fourth glass of wine.

But that was pretty obvious when you walked out of the bathroom and into the social event, scanning the intimate crowd to try and spot anyone to engage in conversation.

Thats when you noticed your mom batting her eyelashes and giggling in a one on one conversation with Tony, while your dad was batting his eyelashes and giggling under the gazebo with Steve.

A bit wobbly on your feet, you walked over to them and held onto the wooden entrance as you stepped up. Both of their attention was drawn to you from their spot on a bench.

You squinted your eyes at your dad. "Hello, Father."

"Daughter" He raised an eyebrow at you.

Steve didn't know where this interaction was about to go, so he observed carefully.

"Steve, is this strange man bothering you?" You asked him.

Steve laughed as your dad reached over to you and flicked the side of your head, you remained unfazed. "Not in the slightest."

"She's drunk" Your dad told Steve while covering your ears.

"I'm not drunk, I'm silly and perhaps a bit goofy, but I am not drunk." You grabbed your dad's wrists and pulled his hands off your ears. "My sobriety should be the least of your concerns at the moment."

"Why is that?" Your dad asked.

"Tony Stark is flirting with your wife." You pointed to your mom and Tony.

Steve followed your pointed finger and saw that you were actually right, and that made him laugh. "That's really concerning."

Your dad sighed. "So what? I have to fight Iron Man now? You chose to be a superhero and now I have to fight Iron Man for your own Mother?"

"Get used to it." You stuck your tongue out at him.

He stuck his tongue out right back at you before turning to Steve. "Please excuse me, I need to rescue my wife."

"By all means" Steve agreed.

When your dad walked off and you were alone with Steve, you sat down right next to him and pulled his arm around your shoulders before you closed your eyes and rested your head on him.

You didn't see his smile as he pulled you as close as he could and rubbed the top of your arm. "How are you doing?"

"Cold, tired, feet hurt." You mumbled. "Drunk"

"I thought you said you weren't drunk?" Steve quipped happily.

“Well, you're not my dad so you get to know the truth." You snuggled into him. "More truth, you smell really nice, and I just need to sit here for a little while."

A giggle escaped Steve from your confessions. "Are you having fun?"

"More fun than I thought" You nodded. "I'm so warm and fuzzy inside. It's been so long since I've felt happy like this."

That wiped the smile clean off of Steve's face. "I'm so happy that you're happy. It'll keep getting better, I'll make sure of it."

"I wish it could just be like this all the time." The feelings you never talk about spilling out of your mouth. "Life could be so good, and I really love it sometimes. I just don't know how to not take what other people do to me personally. You and Bucky are so good at that."

"You're good at everything you do, and life is about to get so much better for you, sweet girl. I promise."

"I'm trying really hard to believe you." You smiled. "I probably sound sad, but I'm happy right now. 'M always happy when I'm with you."

"You can stay with me however long you want, I'm happy with you too." He squeezed your shoulder.

"How did you guys plan such an elaborate event when nobody even knew if I would agree to be an avenger or if I would even be back at the compound today?" You asked.

"We used magic and our intuition" He said with a smile.

"You are so magical" Your alcohol influenced mind marveled. "And who in my family have you been communicating with because that's so magical"

"Your sister and your mom" Steve giggled at your question. "Your family is very nice and really fun to be around."

"Did my dad tell you embarrassing stories about me?"

"Surprisingly, no he didn't."

"Good, good. Let's keep it that way."

Closing your eyes, you let the wine and Steve's body heat relax all your muscles and wash the tension away. Unsure of how long you had actually been there, there was a point in which you could feel Steve shift to look at an approaching person.

An uncontrollable laugh escaped your intoxicated mind as whoever Steve was looking at sat on the other side of you and snuggled into your body the same way you were snuggled up to Steve, but for some reason you still didn't want to open your eyes.

"Wow, this is lovely" The voice said. It sounded like Sam, but you couldn't be too sure.

"Hey, I want in on this too" Sounded loudly from far away. Footsteps came running, and Maria plopped onto Sam's lap sideways. She kicked her legs over your and Steve's laps.

Slowly but surely, more Avengers, family and friends ended up under the gazebo with you and Steve. The cuddle pile grew with Scott and Nat, and lasted longer than it probably should've.

You were fed enough food by pretty much everyone while you all drunkenly told stories and laughed so hard that your stomach hurt that you eventually sobered up.

Once you were sober again, you realized just how fast time had flown by and were sad to hug your parents goodbye. You're pretty sure your mom hugged and your dad fist-bumped nearly every single person at the event, but that was neither here nor there.

Eventually everyone said goodbye, and by the time you got back into Steve's car it was already almost midnight. And by the time you got home and into Steve's bed, all of your energy was more than depleted. Social battery was in the negative, but you felt like you had been plugged into a high speed charger when he got under the covers next to you.

"How are you feeling?" That seemed to be everyone's favorite question to ask you.

"I kind've feel like you right now" With your eyes closed, your laid on your back with one arm above your head and the other resting over your hoodie on top of your belly.

Steve giggled "what is that supposed to mean?"

"I feel like I'm going to throw up."

"Any particular reason why?"

"I ate too much, drank too much wine. I'm bloated but happy so it's a small price to pay." You explained.

"Well if you're going to throw up, aim in that direction" Steve smiled and pointed in the opposite direction of himself. "Are you still drunk? Do you need some water?"

"No I'm not, I'm okay" Your smile barely ghosted your lips. "Just need some sleep."

Steve reached over and pulled some blankets over your frame before poking your cheek. "Remember what you promised me earlier?"

Your eyes opened to look at him. "I feel better, really. I do."

Steve sighed. "You don't even want to talk about it?"

"What is there to say?" You questioned. "All the same shit, different day. There's nothing I can do about that anymore."

"When this all first started, you were getting sent to my office nearly every day for fighting back, but tonight you kind've froze up. Why?"

"I wasn't expecting anyone to do that to me when I was with you." You answered. "But it's done now, it's fine."

"We both know it's not done" Steve's face softened. "And avoiding it doesn't make it go away."

"Would you like me to rewind time and kick him in the balls instead?"

"No, I just want you to know you can talk to me." Steve emphasized.

"I'm pissed off." You admitted. "I'm always in a state of being angry that this is the environment that I have to learn to thrive in every day, but I've also reached a state of emotional exhaustion that makes me feel like I have no room left to be even more angry than I already am. I've hit max capacity, so I'm choosing to stay as calm as I can because out of all the kicks and punches I've thrown, none of them have worked before. I have no reason to believe it'll work now."

“It's not fair." Steve huffed like kid.

"It never has been." You agreed with a shrug. "But you don't need to hold onto that anger for me. I'm trying to let go of it and move on."

"I'll let go of my anger in the form of making change." Steve told you, now feeling brave enough to pull you close to him.

You snuggled up close, your head on his bicep and your arm holding him gently. "I'm an avenger now. That's all the change I know how to make at the moment."

"I'm so proud of you" he practically whispered. "But I've never met anyone like you before."

"You really need to work on providing context before sentences that might hurt my feelings"

Steve chuckled at your bluntness. "You're telling me that you're happy, but you're also telling me that you're sad. Both of those statements feel genuine, so I don't really know where your mind is."

"Well then imagine how complex and confusing it is to be me" You emphasized. "Never in my whole life have I felt more alone while also feeling more loved than ever. I'm happy and sad, I just accomplished something most people never will by becoming an avenger yet I've also never felt more like a loser. This is the first time I've ever been relentlessly bullied but it's also the first time I've ever been a superhero so I guess the juxtaposition of my emotions is just turning my brain into scrambled eggs."

"Have you tried compartmentalization?" Steve offered with a grain of salt.

"I tried that once, I think I created too many emotional categories and got overwhelmed." You smiled. "But I'm a Gemini, so these complexities have been written in the stars for me since the moment I was brought onto the earth. I think I was born for the very purpose of the universe testing to see if overwhelming contradictory emotions could physically kill a human being."

"One of my greater purposes in life is to protect people against the things that could kill them, so you're in good hands right now." Steve slowly rubbed your back. "Overwhelm will not be your cause of death. Actually, nothing will be. I'm trying to convince Banner to make clones of us to be kept in cryofreeze that way when we die of old age, new versions of us can just be thawed out so we can be best friends forever."

"Spoken like a true cancer" You laughed, patting his chest. "Did I uphold my end of the promise?"

"We can call it even, but I'll always be concerned"

"Even Stevens!" You sleepily enthused.

"Are you rhyming or was that a reference to something?" You could hear his amusement.

"Both, you're a little too old to understand that one."

"That's really rude" Steve faked offense.

"Thanks for coming to my rescue, Twinkles. I know you think you didn't do much, but it means a lot to me when I know I have someone on my team."

"I'll always be on your team, you've always been worth the fight." Steve reminded you.

Those words comforted you enough to ignore your very full stomach and fall into a deep sleep in the hold of your favorite soldier's big protective arms. Unfortunately the universe loved to hate you, because you only got your share of the superhero until about 4am when his phone started ringing effectively waking both of you up.

A few curse words slipped out of his mouth in complaint before he reached for his phone and answered it. You didn't pay much attention to the phone call itself, but you did find it within your lack of consciousness to move nearly your entire body onto his in attempt to keep him forever. Snuggling into him belly to belly, his hand found the back of your head and played with your hair as you slipped in and out of sleep.

By the time the phone call ended, you had effectively caged him between the mattress and your body. Realizing what you had done, Steve's cheeks burned as he let out a sigh.

"You can't go." You sleepily mumbled.

"You and I both know I don't really have any say in that." Steve reminded you apologetically.

"Says who? We all have free will."

"Unfortunately, the president of the United States. Apparently he requested to meet me for an urgent conversation about something that's happening somewhere." Steve explained.

"Damnit." You yawned. "I think the president has me beat in importance."

"I think the two of you are pretty equal in importance." Steve pondered. "The only difference is that people might die if I don't get out of bed."

"My soul will die if you get up, but it's fine, I understand." You joked dramatically.

"You're making it very hard for me" Steve complained, wrapping his arms around your back and squeezing you gently.

"If you're hard that's all the more reason to stay in bed." You joked, knowing damn well Steve wouldn't take a naughty joke like that very well.

And you were right, because the gasp that left his mouth was immediate and visceral. You didn't need to look at his face to know his cheeks were flushed pink and red hot. Your laugh was also pretty immediate and visceral as he used his body to flip you over onto the bed and propped himself up on his arm to lean over you. Pointing a finger at you like a dog, he had one word to say. "Bad!"

You laughed even harder as he shook his head at you. "I'm going to get up and get ready to meet the president, you stay here and think about what you just said."

Laying in bed alone, Steve eventually came to say goodbye to you. It was always sad to let each other go, but also an often occurrence. But this time he was hesitant to leave, of course you both knew why. Last night wouldn't be a one time event, but he encouraged you to stay close to Bucky, Nat and Sam as often as you could, and emphasized that there would be no timeline to his departure so he didn't know when he would be back. He also made it clear that should you need to defend yourself, you should do so with no hesitation.

Luckily, all was pretty smooth for a while. Your friendship with Nat bloomed faster than you'd ever expect it would, so for the first week Steve was gone the two of you were practically attached at the hip. Nat and Bucky spent a whole day helping you move from your old apartment up into the Avengers sector. Though it felt a bit pointless moving within the same building, the team felt better about keeping a protective eye on you when you weren't floors away from them. It was a nice change of pace to have a sense of community around you again.

The second week that Steve was gone, you tried to focus on building individual friendships with the team members outside of your little social circle. Your therapist also encouraged you to try and be brave enough to walk through the compound with a confident attitude so nobody would fuck with you, so you tried a few times on your own, a few times were nothing more than anxiety inducing, and a few times got you confronted with hostility which lead to 3 more agents getting fired by Natasha.

By the third week you finally got a phone call from Steve. It was nice to hear his voice and catch up and hear about what he had been up to for all this time, and it was especially nice to hear that he was wrapping up his work and he would be home soon. That same day you got to visit Jane and Luca over lunch at one of your favorite restaurants, then they helped you pick out a few new things for your new apartment.

Most kids acted as if a home store was cruel and unusual, but Luca was very opinionated about rugs and throw pillows. He even convinced you to get a new pair of sneakers at the clothing store he wanted to go to across the street from the compound.

Lots of therapy, lots of solo workouts, lots of team building, you were starting to feel mentally and physically stronger.

Strong enough to keep walking alone, and pushing forward no matter how hard it was.

When Steve landed on the runway after 3 whole weeks and a handful of days of being gone, he was so relieved to be back home. Without even making it off the jet he was already fantasizing about shaving the beard he unintentionally grew after forgetting his razor at home, a long shower and a long nap since it was only early in the afternoon and definitely not bedtime yet.

His fantasies continued as he stepped off the jet and into the building. Now he knew he wanted to see you before he knocked out for that nap he desperately needed. There would be some snacks at some point, and definitely no pants after the got out of the shower.

The sound of his boots on the sleek floor actually brought him joy knowing each step was one closer to you.

Like most fantasies, what he hoped and dreamed of was far from reality. Especially when a loud alarm sounded in the sector of the compound he was headed towards.

Stopping in his tracks and cringing at the sound, he waited for the code and location to be called out before springing into action. It could've been as simple as a knocked over vial in the lab, or complex as an invasion of an enemy. But when the code called out for aggressive physical conflict in the gym, Steve's heart sank and he started running as fast as he could.

He didn't want to believe it was you, but he couldn't be naive either. His racing heart and even faster legs carried him there faster than anyone else could. As he entered the doorway into the compound gym, he could hear the footsteps of a few sets of feet trailing behind him, but waiting for others arrival wouldn't slow him down.

Especially not when he entered the gym and it was completely empty besides two people, his heart sank even further when he recognized it was you, and the number on the back of the uniform of the other person was 212. Harvey.

No less than a billion racing thoughts came sped through Steve's mind, and none of the billion came together to form any good ideas. He swore all he saw was a blinding white and all he heard was his own heart beat in his ears as he sprinted through the equipment to get to where the altercation was happening.

The two of you looked like a cartoon before he went into fully protective mode. As he weaved through punching bags and stair climbers, he couldn't pick out where your body started and Harvey's ended. There might as well have been a big dust cloud around you, with puffs of air pluming out.

The consequences of putting himself in the middle of a fight wasn't even a thought in Steve's mind as he jumped over a treadmill and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and tried to pull you backwards, far away from Harvey.

Unfortunately, you were a little too preoccupied trying to save your own life to notice the alarm was sounding or that anyone was coming to save you, let alone Steve who you didn't even know was home yet. Assuming it was another attacker, one of Harvey's buddies helping him take you down, you forcefully thrashed and kicked yourself out of the Steve's grip. Adrenaline clouded your judgement, flight was nowhere to be seen as fight took over your every thought, you turned around and swung your fist right at him to earn yourself more time to knock Harvey down. You know you made pretty harsh contact considering there was a shooting pain buzzing through your knuckles, but at this point there was pain jolting through nearly every part of your body, so this wasn't going to slow you down.

Still not realizing what you had done, you watched Natasha sprint into the room and full body tackle Harvey to the ground, followed by a few other commanding officers, Sam, and Bucky. Trusting their ability to deal with Harvey and not let him touch you again, you turned back around to deal with whoever else was.

Fist balled, ready for a second swing, you looked up at the targets face, and devastation immediately took over the whole of your emotions. Steve blocked your punch and caught your wrist mid swing.

"Hey hey hey, it's me. It's just me" Steve frantically tried to get you to stop.

"Oh my god" You whispered to yourself as you realized you punched Steve right on his cheekbone, hard enough a bruise was already forming.

He watched you come to the realization of what you had done, your wrist was shaking in his hand, even more so as he loosened his grip and gently placed your arm down to your side.

You looked battered and bruised, but when he looked back at Harvey, it was clear that you had won this fight.

Looking at your wide eyes, he could tell you were in shock, and coming down from the copious amount of adrenaline coursing through your veins. He knew all too well what that felt like. Guilt, shame, the full effects of pain from the injuries sustained, the tremors and how weak your knees and thighs would get. He's been in your position far too many times before, he knew it was the worst feeling in the world.

Especially when your cheek was oozing blood, your arms were scraped up and bruised. Steve could tell the fight started with an unfair advantage.

Then, tears started pooling in your eyes as you looked at Steve's face and you opened your mouth but no words would come out.

"It's okay." Steve told you, very slowly reaching out to put his hands on your shoulders trying to snap your brain out of fight mode. "You're okay."

A tear fell down your cheek and your eyebrows furrowed before you muttered a quiet. "I'm so sorry."

"You didn't know" Steve shook his head. "You were just trying to protect yourself. You're okay, buggy."

You looked over your shoulder and saw Harvey on the ground. His face was a lot bloodier than yours. With eyes swollen shut and his nose definitely not in its usual form, you felt like a monster.

A sob escaped your throat, and your shaky hand flew up to cover your mouth before your eyes squeezed shut. "What did I do?"

"Everything is going to be fine." Steve reminded you, pulling your attention back to him.

His bruised face only made your sobs escape faster and your heart pound even faster. "I'm so sorry, Steve, I-I didn't mean to. I didn't know it was you."

"I know you didn't, you didn't even know I was home." Steve reasoned with you. "It's okay, just take some deep breaths for me."

You shook your head, still panting from the physical exertion. "I can't."

"You can't?" He questioned.

"I have to go." You took a big step backwards, Steve's arms fell back to his sides.

More concern than Steve ever thought was humanly possible took over his mind. "Where do you need to go?"

"I don't know." You sobbed. "I just need to go. I'm sorry"

Another two scared steps backwards, then you bolted out of the gym. Steve started making strides towards you, fully prepared to follow you but Sam approached him and stuck his arm out.

"You have to let her go on her own." Hand flat to Steve's chest, he stopped him. "She needs time to calm down and come to terms with what just happened. Trust that if she needs something, she will call you."

Steve's shoulders deflated. He wanted to go help, convince you to see a medic and have an emergency meeting with your therapist, but he also knew Sam was probably right.

With a big deep breath, Steve assessed the state of the gym. Realizing one of the treadmills was still on and going, he reached over the machine to stop it. Then a few commands slipped through his mouth while trying to organize his own brain.

He needed the security camera footage of the incident, he needed the alarm to stop, he needed a lab clean up crew to get rid of all the blood on the gym floor, and he needed Harvey handcuffed to the hospital bed he was bound to end up in. He was too tired to do any of that on his own, but luckily others were eager to get this taken care of too.

Just as he was no longer needed, Bucky approached and squeezed his shoulder.

"What's that thing on your face?" Bucky's nose scrunched up.

"She got me on accid-"

"I'm not talking about the bruise. I didn't even know you were capable of growing a beard" Bucky commented.

Narrowing his eyes, Steve glared at Bucky. "I forgot my razor."

"Respectfully," Bucky stated looking him up and down. "You look like shit, Pal."

"Thanks, Buck." Steve sarcastically smiled. He knew he looked disheveled and tired.

"Really, I think 66 more years of sleep would look good on you." He backhandedly tapped Steve's chest. "Go take a nap."

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep after she ran off like that." Steve sighed.

"We'll take care of her." Bucky reassured him. "We can always wake you up if need be, but her and Nat have grown really close. She has a lot of people in her court."

After about 10 more minutes of arguing with Bucky, he decided to just let him win under the conditions that he would keep him updated when he found out any new information.

Steve showered, shaved, and put on sweatpants and a shirt before getting into bed. He didn't want to wear pants, but he did it for your sake, just in case you came to find him. Realizing it had been about an hour since the incident, he tried calling you just to see if you would pick up, but he wasn't shocked when you didn't. So he sent you a text letting you know he was here for you when you were ready, then tried his hardest to get his mind to calm down enough to fall asleep.

It took an unfortunately short amount of time, as the second he laid down sleep hit him harder than your fist against his face, and he knocked out for so long that he woke up to the sound of his phone ringing, and it was now pitched black in his bedroom.

"Hello?" Steve mumbled into his phone.

"Jesus Christ, good morning sleeping beauty." Bucky said.

"Weren't you the one who told me to get some sleep?" Steve poked.

"Not important, glad you're back from the dead. I have some updates for you. Are you awake enough to process the words I'm speaking to you"

“I will be once I'm filled with rage over this situation again. What's up?"

"The security footage was recovered and I finally got to see it. It's enough evidence to land Harvey in jail for assault, so that's what Natasha is currently perusing."

Steve sat up in bed and reached for the lamp on the bedside table, blinking his eyes to adjust as it clicked on. "What happened?"

"She was alone in the gym, running on the treadmill and minding her own business. 212 saw her in there on her own, snuck in through the back door and yanked her off the treadmill. Her foot slipped off the end of the machine so he pushed her forward and scraped her face and arms against the moving belt, which is why she was bleeding. He was screaming some things at her but none of it is very clear. He tried kicking her a few times but she was able to get up and try to push him off of her, he persisted and she got fed up after he managed to get a swing at her collar bone and kicked her chin. She just... started swinging at him and didn't stop until you and Nat got them away from each other." Bucky explained.

"If this video can get him in jail, that would be great. But it can't be used if it's incriminating against her. We can't have that happen." Steve sighed.

"If anything, it's proof of self defense. You know Nat would never let anything bad happen to her. None of us would." Bucky reminded Steve. "It looked really painful on her end though. She ended up going to medical, but they released her a couple hours ago. JARVIS is telling me she's hanging out on the roof."

"Think I should go up there?" Steve asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, already knowing the answer.

"Well I don't necessarily think she should be alone for much longer."

"I'll talk to you later then."

The call ended and Steve stood in front of the mirror to fix his hair, while trying his hardest to ignore how tender and swollen his cheek was now. Before making it up to the private roof access, Bucky sent him the video and it took everything out of him to not kill Harvey with his own two hands. But a deep breathing exercise helped him regulate his anger again.

When he got up there and made it to the top, he saw you laying beneath the stars on a blanket with your headphones on, quietly crying to yourself and hoping that the moon understood your pain.

You noticed Steve immediately, and took your headphones off before sitting up as he quietly sat down next you. Trying your hardest to be brave, your lip wobbled trying to contain the new wave of emotion you felt. No words needed to be exchanged as you gently reached up and cupped his bruised cheek into your palm. There was a physical pain blossoming in your chest as he wrapped you up into his arms, but butterflies fluttered in his stomach as you let one of your arms keep him close, and your hand stayed over his cheek.

You cried tucked into his neck for a little while as he rubbed your back and simply let you feel your feelings. After a little while he heard your small broken voice.

"I'm so sorry." You apologized again, bravely pulling away and moving your hand to inspect the damage you did to his face. "Are you okay? Does it hurt?"

"It's okay, Bugs. I'm fine. It was a dumb move on my part to grab you like that, if I was you I would've punched me too." Steve responded sincerely, taking in the burn-like scabs on your face down near your jaw. "Are you okay?"

"Could've been a lot worse." You nodded with a sniffle, really trying to convince yourself that you were okay. "I don't remember what happened, it all happened so fast I can't even recall specifics. I got scared and didn't want to hurt anyone else so I ran. I'm still trying to come down from that."

"I saw footage from the security camera, it wasn't good, Bug." Steve broke the news to you softly. "You did what you needed to do, and it was all within reason. There mere fact that you walked away with a few scrapes and bruises is a miracle."

"Did he sneak up on me?" You asked, Steve simply nodded in return with a sympathetic look on his face. "That's what I thought must've happened, that's also probably why I punched you so hard."

"If you need to see the video to help you process, I'll show it to you. But right now, I think it's best to just try and wind down."

In agreement, you made yourself comfortable next to Steve. You sat sideways nearly on his lap, with your legs thrown over his. His arm pulled you into his torso, and you rested your head onto your shoulder. Steve noticed your tiny winces as you adjusted to the new found pain and soreness in your body, but he tried his best to avoid all the spots he knew were injured.

“You saw a doctor right? Is everything okay?" He questioned, genuinely concerned.

You nodded. "Everything is pretty surface level, but apparently being slammed onto some heady gym equipment can bruise a rib."

"Bruised ribs are so painful" Steve's face scrunched up. "You're one tough cookie."

"I'm sorry this is what you came home to after being away for so long."

Steve was looking at you, admiring the way you looked under the moonlight, yet you couldn't keep your eyes off the stars. "I wish you didn't feel the need to apologize for things that aren't your fault."

"I'm working on that, and I don't anymore for most people. But for you? A million apologies wouldn't be enough. You're too sweet for this kind of nonsense."

"You are too, but out of all people you should know that I understand." Steve stressed. "In a lot of ways, we're very similar, Bug. I know what it feels like to be in the position you're in right now. You don't need to explain anything or apologize to me. I get it."

You tried to understand his words, but you really didn't. For a moment, you almost got upset with him for implying that anyone would treat him the way you've been treated around the compound. Steve was one of the most respected people in the world, you could barely earn the respect of a new hire agent. "I don't see anyone rushing to try and physically harm you for going on a run." You wiped tears from under your eyes.

"No, maybe not here." Steve agreed with you. "But way back when I first got the serum, I struggled really hard to earn respect from anyone around me."

"I have to admit, it's hard to imagine anyone disrespecting you."

Steve grinned and carefully brushed a few stray strands of hair away from your eyes. "I went from a 90 pound asthmatic who didn't have the strength to complete one push up to a human science experiment. I proved myself the very moment after I got the serum and it still wasn't enough for a lot of people. Thats why I was paraded around on that USO tour for so long, nobody thought I could handle fighting a war."

"You looked really cute in those booty shorts" you sniffled.

Steve chuckled at your statement. "Stop making me laugh when I'm trying to teach you a valuable lesson."

"I'd rather jump off this roof than not make you laugh" you smiled despite the contradictory tears.

"The point of this conversation is actually to make sure you don't jump off the roof." Steve informed you.

Your eyes moved from the stars to his eyes, they were both as equally beautiful and bright. "Is that what you're worried about? I would never-"

"Quite honestly, yeah, I am." He cautiously continued with a slight nod. "We see a more on a daily basis than anyone should see in their whole life, that alone is grounds for struggle but when you factor in everything else, I don't think that concern is far off."

Your tears fell faster at his statement. As a sad sob slipped past your throat and your eyes found the sky once more, Steve's heart broke knowing he hit the nail on the head. He also knew you wouldn't open up if you felt defensive about it, so he needed to take the scenic route to get you there.

"What's your favorite part about the stars?" Steve asked. "You seem to love looking at the sky when you're sad."

"Looking for constellations helps me stay calm and get out of my head" You explain with a sniffle. "They're hard to see in the city but it's better here upstate."

Steve looked up. "It's amazing to me that you can find constellations. All I see is each individual star."

You pointed at the brightest light. "That's Saturn, and these stars right below it make up the Aquarius constellation."

"It's crazy that the universe is so vast."

"That's another reason why I like the stars so much. With so much happening out there, it's a good reminder that everything down here is so tiny and insignificant in the grand scheme of the universe. Sometimes that makes me feel like I can keep going strong, like one day none of this will even matter."

"You really believe in astrology? I go back and forth. The stars are so far away, I struggle to understand how they can control so much of who we are." Steve pondered.

"I do believe in it." You nodded. "The moon controls our oceans, the tide is physical proof. Our bodies are made up of 60% water, and all of the other elements we're made up of were formed in the stars over the course of billions of years. It's hard for me to believe they don't have a say in what's going on down here."

"I've never thought of it that way." Steve grinned. "It's really magical when you put it like that."

"Maybe you're made up of more stardust than the average human considering your eyes seem to twinkle like they're already up in space." You noted. "It's magical, but it's also equally devastating to feel like the bad parts of your life are written into the stars."

"We need the not so great stuff to help us understand how amazing the good stuff is. Can't see the stars if the sun is out." For some reason, his perspective brought you comfort. It felt like the hug he kept you wrapped up in. "Maybe that's always why I've thought so highly of you. Despite the darkness you've continued to show excellence, and shine brighter than the rest."

"Then maybe I'm a supernova because sometimes I really do feel like I'm going to explode." You giggled at your own realization.

"Even then you'd still shine a million times brighter than the sun!" Steve enthused, big smile on his face. "But don't explode, black holes are terrifying."

"I won't. That's why I came up here. Avengers only access, don't have to worry about anybody else or the damn sprinklers."

"When I was in the Army, drawing was my version of looking at the stars. It was the only way I could really get my mind to quiet down." Steve explained. "Back then, I was miserable. All the army men hated me, I had recently lost my mom, and I thought I killed Bucky. The war was so horrific I didn't think I'd ever be able to recover from what I had to do or what I had to see, and I felt even worse for the innocent lives taken in the whole ordeal. So, when I knew that I could end it... I did."

"You're a hero because of it." You agreed, feeling a bit confused by his words.

"No, you don't understand." Steve denied. "The plane crash that got me stuck in the ice? I could've gotten out. There was a chance for me to jump out of the plane, but I didn't. I didn't see the point."

Your heart sank at the implication of what he was confessing to you, and all it wanted to make you do is just hold him tight and weep forever. But you knew that wasn't the point, you knew you just needed to keep listening.

"I can't say that I regret it, because had that never happened I would've never gotten to enjoy living a life I never imagined, and I would've never met you, or the Avengers." He explained. "But it made my life far more complicated, and at least once a day I imagine what my life would've been like had I just gotten myself to safety, and that imagining- the 'what's ifs?' is something I'd never wish upon anyone. I do know how you feel, and much like you know the moon controls the ocean, I know things will get better. All you need to do is believe it."

Your eyes momentarily squeezed shut to rid them of the tears blurring your vision. They dripped down your cheeks as you shook your head, and his brave vulnerability made you realize that you always loved him, but in this moment you had fully and irrevocably had fallen for him. It was as if there was no more questions in your mind, you couldn't even understand anymore why you hadn't been with him way before this whole mess. It consumed every single one of your emotions, you simply couldn't ignore it anymore.

"I would never, Rogers, never." You confirmed with a cry. "I can't lie, I've been pushed to thinking about it, but it made me realize that I couldn't do that to you, my parents, Luca. Nobody. I love you so much, and I really hate to hear that, but I'm really glad you're here."

"Maybe this is what was written in the stars." Steve reached his hand up and used his thumb to gently swipe tears off your cheeks. "Maybe all of this was meant to happen so that this moment, right now could teach you that no matter what happens, you'll always have people to catch you at the bottom should you feel like you have nowhere else to go."

"Or maybe the lesson is that the idea of our existences happening at the same time is so unlikely that we have no choice but to listen to the universe." You said quietly, almost coming to that realization in real time. "Maybe you were always meant to be mine."

Steve's heart nearly pounded out of his chest as you spoke those words, then, as you looked up at him and closed the distance between your lips, he felt like a supernova too. He was burning hotter and brighter than ever before when your soft lips connected to his, his chest was mere seconds away from exploding when you pulled away to examine his shocked face.

Trying to process what had just happened, the sound of your giggles at his twinkling eyes and blushed cheeks grounded him and pulled him right back down to earth.

"Wait hold on..." Steve clutched his chest.

"Are you going to throw up?" You asked, wiping the last of your tears off your face as your smile took over.

"I think I need to sit down." He stated, finally making eye contact with you.

Your laugh boomed once again. "You're already sitting!"

"Okay, then I need to lay down." He said, readjusting to lay down on your blanket.

Your smile persisted as you laid down next to him. Shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm, your hands intertwined. "This is better than you throwing up."

"Wait..." Steve spoke, looking up at the moon.

You turned your head to look at him. "What?"

"Again" He insisted, turning his head towards you too.

It took a lot of effort to contain your smile enough to kiss him, but you did, and it felt just as right as the first time. Keeping it short and sweet, it didn't take long for Steve to point to the stars.

"I like these bitches, they're being very nice to me right now" He smiled.

Admitting to how hard you laughed at his statement would simply be too embarrassing, but it was hard enough to yell at him for further irritating your bruised rib. "Now you can't get mad at me for calling you Twinkles."

"You can call me whatever you want, Love Bug."

Butterflies in your stomach erupted in flutters at his choice of nickname. "A cancer and a Gemini, who would've thought?"

Steve shrugged. "It works."

"What now?" You asked with a sigh, you didn't know if you were asking Steve or the stars.

"You fight your ass off in a trial against Harvey, you help us out in an investigation on him and everyone that's been tormenting you, you continue doing what you're amazing at, and you keep that beautiful smile on your face because all of this is about to change." Steve explained. "This was the fuel we needed to start a fire around the compound. It's enough to light the whole place up and change the status quo. By the end of it, it's going to improve the lives of every agent in the program, that's my vow to you."

All his words sounded appealing and genuine enough to believe them.

"Pinky promise?" You raised your pinky on the hand that wasn't already holding his.

"Pinky promise" He connected his pinky with yours, then kissed the back of his hand... then your forehead... then your lips.

He knew confidently, now more than ever, that his love for you transcended time and space. The laws of life, love, nature, and even the stars never applied to the connection you two shared.

Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was coincidence that the boy born in 1918 had a chance to fall so deeply in love with a girl who didn't live in the same era as him.

Or maybe everything did happen for a reason. Maybe your life was already mapped out in the stars, and all you had to do was find the right constellations.

You would always have infinite questions about the intricacies of the universe, but out of all the answers you are confident in, you knew two things for certain.

Steve was your North Star. So long as you had him to guide you, you always knew you'd be on the correct path. You'd always get where you needed to go, and he would always be there for you regardless of what season of life you were in.

He was your star crossed lover.

Next Part: May 20th

Taglist: @saranghaey @firephotogrl74 @selella @talesofadragon @ss28 @nekoannie-chan @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @spikeluv84 @crazyunsexycool @callmissrogers @xxxalicerogersxx @whore-for-chris-evans @em8rin @mulbsstuff @qalijahbydior @awkotaco24 @buckybarnessimpp @nicoline1998enilocin @buckystevelove @rogersbarber @mybuck @dbnightingale24 @ynstark @sincerelytlh @alexakeyloveloki @mrsevans90 @smhnxdiii @claralovescaptainamerica @hisredheadedgoddess28 @bigtreefest @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

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rosaniruby · 1 year ago

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It's interesting how the second sentence victor starts the story with is "My ancestors had been for many years counsellors and syndics" and while i always focused on the effect it has on, for example, victor; trying to see the life of alphonse is also interesting in the way we can observe his trauma leaking out into his parenting methods and attitude towards his kids and wife.

Like,

-It is said they have a long history with being important and engaged in country's business. And as we see Alphonsa followed it, (and i highly suspect even when he sent victor to college he still expected him to take over this position later on), probably not having much of a choice either. It was all passed down, and even the character of this job is being passed down too. For example, traits fitting this job - responsibilities/brain over feelings. A sense of duty that follows them everywhere. Love isn't unconditional, it's a duty, as well as everything else they do.

It seems like he's just passing down the generational trauma.

Another instances where his bad experiences are being reflected in his behavior towards victor and others is also seen here:

-His dearest friend suddenly disappeared. Turns out he hid because of hurt pride of losing his fortune, simultaneously almost destroying his daughter's life bc of that as well as his own. and Alphonse felt betrayed that this false pride was more important than their friendship = notice how Alphonse assumes the reason for victor's misery is a false pride. And desperatively wants to keep his family in close-circle, so they won't leave each other. And him.

-He looked for the friend for a long time without stopping, but in the end was disappointed. "But when he entered, misery and despair alone welcomed him. Beaufort had saved but a very small sum of money from the wreck of his fortunes; but it was sufficient to provide him with sustenance for some months, and in the mean time he hoped to procure some respectable imployment in a merchant’s house. The interval was consequently spent in inaction; his grief only became more deep and rankling, when he had leisure for reflection; and at length it took so fast hold of his mind, that at the end of three months he lay on a bed of sickness, incapable of any exertion." = notice how he always thinks despair is useless and leads to even worse consequences, so, feeling things is BAD.

-After making a big deal out of loving and finding the friend, the moment he actually sees him dead, instead of thinking about that or even mentioning alphonse was sad or smth, theres not a single sentence about alphonse's reaction or even of that friend anymore, instead all attention drifts to beautiful poor Caroline and suddenly it's a story about saving her. Everything got romantized. = Obviously, the romantization of grief and suffering was very ingrained in Victor's whole family. It probably came from Alphonse and his ancestors too.

- It's also said in 1818 ver that alphonse really loved his sister (the mother of elizabeth) and she abandoned him (cut him off).

"for some years my father had very little communication with her."

= Now remember alphonse's later words and lessons about how cutting your family off means you are neglecting yourself and your other duties etc.

So yeak, Idk I just love how Frankenstein is also about generational trauma and people who didn't process their feelings ruining their kids' lifes. (and don't get me started on Caroline.)

#frankenstein #frankenstein or the modern prometheus #victor frankenstein #mary shelly's frankenstein #viktor frankenstein #alphonse frankenstein #caroline frankenstein #goth lit #gothic literature #classic lit #classic literature #mary shelley #frankenstein the modern prometheus #the modern prometheus #caroline beaufort

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jae-bummer · 2 years ago

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An Absolute Pinecone

Request: 2,7,8 vernon?

Prompt:

2) "Don't look at them. Look at me."

7) "We really need to stop meeting like this."

8) "I saw you looking at it last time we were in the store together, so I got it for you."

Pairing: Seventeen Vernon x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Taking a deep breath, you shouldered your way into the crowded restaurant. There was no special occasion to celebrate, no person you were going to meet for a few drinks. It was just you and your endless thoughts driving you toward some form of comfort.

The restaurant had been your favorite before, and it was still allowed to be your favorite after. Just because you dragged some guy you were dating here nearly every weekend he had off, didn't mean the place was tainted now. He probably didn't even remember where it was, let alone that they had a pork nurungji gangjeong that he was obsessed with.

Big, stupid, dumb boy who definitely didn't trash your heart and totally understood every reason you gave for breaking up.

Navigating toward the host stand, you took a place in line and crossed your arms. Normally you made reservations for a place so popular, but today, you had every intention of perching yourself at the bar and having a dinner for one.

"You know, we really need to stop meeting like this," a familiar voice chimed behind you.

You closed your eyes and attempted to stifle the groan forming in the back of your throat. Why was he here?

"Hey," you managed, turning around.

Hansol Vernon Chwe.

You couldn't help it as your eyes roamed over his body. It was infuriating how someone who could make you feel so bad could simultaneously look so good.

Your relationship has begun to fall apart only a few weeks ago. It originally seemed like the two of you were a good fit. He was one of the goofiest people you had ever met and was so authentically Vernon. He knew how to make you laugh and even better, knew how to laugh at himself.

The two of you managed to live in the bubble of your own world for a while. You knew in the long run it wouldn't be easy to date someone in his profession. It took an immense amount of patience, understanding, and communication. You both were great at those first two points, but communication had become increasingly difficult.

Vernon tended to have a very one-track thought process. He was constantly lost in his own world, and if something wasn't happening directly in front of him, it was often out of sight out of mind. With his recording, practicing, and touring, you were very often that thing that was forgotten.

"Hey," he said pleasantly.

You watched as a boxy grin appeared easily on his handsome face. After all you had said to him (and regretted), he still could look upon you fondly.

"How-How are you?" you asked. You could do pleasantries. He wasn't a nefarious villain or anything.

"I've been better," he chuckled, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. "What about you?"

"Great," you lied with a small nod. "Things are-"

"Good evening," the hostess cut you off. "Do you have a reservation?"

"Oh no," you said quickly, motioning over to the bar. "I was going to-"

"Actually, we do," Vernon nodded as he stepped forward. "It's under Hansol Chwe."

You looked to him with wide eyes, doing your best to not panic. Why on earth would he think you wanted to have dinner with him? Why would HE want to have dinner with YOU?

"It's okay, you really don't have to-"

"Excellent, I found you in the system," the hostess smiled. "Follow me."

Vernon began to follow and looked back at you with a sly smile. He lifted his brows quickly as if to say, "want to make a bad decision"? You felt your mouth open, but swiftly close. Struggling over your own feet, your body had decided to follow.

"Alright, well, you're all set!" the hostess nodded. "Someone from the wait staff will be with you shortly."

Nonchalantly picking up the menu in front of him, Vernon began to scan the food options. You narrowed your eyes, completely flabbergasted with him.

"I wanted to say this in a kind way," you said slowly. He glanced at you over his menu and waited. "But honestly, Vernon, what the fuck?"

He immediately grinned and let out a small huff of amusement. "Did you not want to have dinner tonight?"

"Not with you!" you gasped. "We broke up. You were there. Don't you remember?"

"Of course, I do," he said, his smile immediately evaporating from his features. It felt like a punch to the gut knowing you were the cause for its disappearance. "You probably couldn't see with everyone standing around, but the bar was full."

"Oh," you said weakly. You played nervously with the corners of your menu. "I...I didn't mean to crash your evening. You made a reservation for yourself?"

"Nope, both of us," he hummed, his eyes never leaving the menu.

"B-Both of us?" you stuttered. "What do you mean?"

Vernon looked up again, his eyes finally meeting yours. "I've booked a reservation at this restaurant every weekend since we broke up. Party of two, usually an actual party of one staying for the whole meal."

You lifted your brows and remained silent. How were you supposed to handle that information?

"I didn't know when you were coming back," he sighed. "But I wanted to be here when you did."

"Why?"

You felt completely lost. The two of you had only been broken up for two or three weeks at this point, but to come to this place in hopes of bumping into each other...you weren't sure if it was delusional or kind of sweet.

This time Vernon sat down his menu and swiveled his body toward you. "Because I've been an absolute pinecone. Your words, not mine, but pretty accurate."

You went to speak but couldn't find the words. This may had been the creepiest way to go about seeing you again, but admittedly, you hadn't given him a whole lot of options.

Vernon chewed the corner of his lip, obviously uncomfortable with your silence. His brows furrowed as he waited.

"Are you two ready to order?" your server asked, finally appearing at your booth. You looked to Vernon who was still focused on you, and then back up to the server.

"I think we need a few minutes."

"Y/N," Vernon sighed. He reached forward in an attempt to grab your hands, but immediately stopped himself. Withdrawing them back to his lap, you could see a blush creeping up his neck. Somehow you had managed to completely fluster him without saying a word at all. Clearing his throat, he tried to start again. "I...um...I didn't really understand until you had stopped returning my calls."

You shook your head, unsure of what he meant.

"The silence stung," he admitted. "But it was effective. I've been wanting to just...be with you...like in the same room. It was actually becoming an ache.

"Vernon," you croaked. You had been thinking that you were the only one who had felt that awful brand of heartbreak. You thought he would go back to his normal routines, go back to being the chaotic golden doodle of a boy that he was.

"Let me finish," he whispered, clearly gathering his confidence again. "I put you on the back burner way more than what was fair. I didn't even realize how it was making you feel...even when you told me. I thought it couldn't be as bad as you said. Then I went into my phone and saw how many times I hadn't remembered to text you or call you back..."

"You're an idol," you interrupted. You felt guilt knowing that he was now experiencing the same things you had. Sure, you could hurt from it, but you still loved him enough to want to protect him. "I knew what I had signed up for...I'm just not the person who can withstand it I guess."

"But you could," he insisted. "If I had supported you."

Intaking a deep breath, you let it out slowly. You looked down to your hands now clenched in your own lap. You had spoken for hours when you had finally broken up. You tried to make him understand how unhappy things were, but he had never seen it. He insisted that even when he was busy, you had been at the forefront of his mind. You were a window always open in his browser, just not one he got to click that often. To him, that meant that he did love you and he was paying attention...

...and you hadn't even thought to give him the chance to do better.

"I saw you looking at this the last time we were in the store together," he said quietly. Standing up, he pulled a small box from his pocket. Thinking for a moment, he chose to abandon his seat and sit back down in the booth beside you. He was cautious as he scooted closer, waiting for you to stop him. "So I got it for you."

You focused on the sadness in his eyes before looking down. In the small box sat a dainty necklace, a small charm hanging from the chain.

"I know you're not the type to have your affections bought," he continued. "But I thought that maybe this would help show you that I am paying attention. I do have a crazy amount of interest in you...I've just been a real dick about it."

"Vernon, I-" you began. Your thoughts were a whirlwind. It was difficult to think with him this close. He smelled so good and exuded such warmth. He was a ray of sunshine, and he was ready to do the work. It had taken time to get him there, but he really understood.

"Say yes," a girl squeaked at the table to the left of you.

You and Vernon looked from her and back to each other with wide eyes. "Does she think-"

"Say yes!" she said a little louder, clasping her hands before her chest.

You smiled to yourself before looking up at Vernon who was already laughing. Your eyes met and both of you fell silent.

"Let's do this," you whispered. Before you could think better of it, you grabbed his neck and yanked him forward. The passion behind his kiss was unmatched. He had clearly missed you and wanted to put all of that pent up energy into your lips.

You could tell he wanted to convey every promise he could. He wanted you to know that he was sorry and he was going to make this right. The long kiss morphed into more rushed, short kisses as his lips tried to get more and more of yours. It took a moment to remember where you were, but you quickly realized as you heard applause erupt around you.

"Congratulations!" the girl from the opposite booth yelled over the din. "Oh my God, I've always wanted to see an engagement in person!"

"An engagement," you croaked, your eyes whipping to Vernon. This caused him to laugh loudly. You looked back over to the girl and immediately tried to correct her. "No, we-"

Your eyes swept across the restaurant. Families, couples, and staff looked upon you kindly.

"Hey," Vernon whispered. He pressed a few fingers to your jaw and directed your focus back to him. "Don't look at them, look at me."

You took a deep breath, ready to argue about the ridiculousness of this entire situation.

"We're totally not engaged," he grinned. "But think of the free dessert we'll probably get if we let them think we are."

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sifonie · 6 months ago

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Yes Man - A Sibyl Meta

Somebody, somebody, so cut the fucking fanfare…

All alone again and with no friends, everybody said bye to Yes Man. Everybody stand by him again, everybody don't try him this time! You used to have somebody to lean on, used to have somebody to clean up, used to have somebody to lean on, so where'd they go?

Sibyl is a lonely creature by nature. They never quite fit in with their peers, never really had a group to call their own. While they did have a few people they could call acquaintances or even friends, they were overall seen as weak-willed and an over enthusiastic Yes Man by those they deemed to be superior. They tried to appeal to those “popular” kids, hoping to seek acceptance and validation from the majority. Instead, they ended up feeling more and more like an outcast and reject despite the few people in their corner trying to give them support. Sure, their family was loving and provided them with comfort they couldn’t find at school, but they still couldn’t shake the feeling of rejection. It was obvious to them that they were at the very bottom of the social food chain, easy pickings, easy prey. Even so-called friends seemed to eventually move on or find a better fit.

But, with the discovery of their musical abilities and prowess, they took things into their own hands.

They're all saying: Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Laughing to their death, death, death, death, death, death! They're all saying yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Lie under duress-ress-ress-ress-ress-ress!

If there’s one thing Sibyl knew, it was that music had a certain power to it. It could move people physically and emotionally. It could make them do great things, make a difference, make things go their way. With this knowledge in mind, they decided to use their skills to their advantage. When they realized they no longer had to appease everyone, that they had the upper hand now, it felt like pure ecstasy. No more bowing down or pleading. It was everyone else’s turn now. And so, they created their own army of mindless Yes Men, dubbing them fans. It’s not like they had any choice in the matter with such hypnotic music. Sibyl grew accustomed to having people at their disposal, little puppets to dance for them, do dirty work for them. Above all, they adored Sibyl—or Music Meister, as they went by now.

Perhaps they had made themself into a false idol of sorts, perhaps the forced adoration wasn’t enough, and perhaps they were greedy for more, letting their past insecurities leak into their newfound confidence.

Nobody understands me, nobody, I'm so fucking random! Nobody tried to understand me, they're just standing in my way! When you're standing on the grave of everyone who used to try to save you—well, they used to try to save me, but then I went and pushed them all away from me!

Sibyl has quite the distorted view on friends and allyship. They simultaneously want people close to them, yet want to keep them at a distance. It’s a constant battle within themself, with them feeling the need to protect themself from any backstabbing or letdowns, but also wanting to have deep and meaningful connections. In their mind, they’ve decided that nobody sees their vision, that nobody thinks or feels the way they do. This tends to manifest itself in selfishness and narcissistic tendencies. They know how to manipulate and twist people to get their way–and they always do in the end.They’ve practically convinced themself that they don’t need anyone else because they have enough people in their corner, which couldn’t be further than the truth.

In fact, they’ve burned many bridges that weren’t meant to be burnt. So many good relationships went down the drain because they had successfully led themself to believe that no one really cared.

I pay these people to laugh at my jokes and they're not even funny!

With powers like Sibyl’s, you don’t need to have the risk of people betraying you or leaving you behind. Not when you have so many adoring fans behind you, willing to do anything for even a mere glance their way. Sibyl goes to social events, fits in wonderfully in the atmosphere, and yet they continue to have a feeling of isolation and worthlessness within them. But that’s fine, not everyone can have an artistic mindset such as theirs. They’re a music genius, the Music Meister! Nobody can compare to their style, their swagger, their passion. They’re everything, and you? Well, you're nobody. Sibyl pays no mind to the haters, the phonies, the rumors. Why? Because they know they’ll be silenced for good.

All it takes is one little melody, a small composition, and the problem is solved permanently.

Nobody understands me, nobody, cut the fucking fanfare!

#( headcanons. )#long post #I kinda ate this… I don’t know

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riddle-me-ri · 4 months ago

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a/n: sooo this is 100% pure self indulgence lmao. As much as I love the main five wholly…I can't help but feel a wee bit more favoritism to Goemon lol. I'm a sucker for the protective and stoic type that can also be silly but tries to be serious most of the time lol. Bonus if he gets shy or flustered around women lol. I understand that canonically speaking Goemon will likely turn away in such a scenario, so there's probably some OOC-ness in that, but I did try to keep him as close to character as possible! Goemon's injuries (and how he obtained them) are based on the ones he gets in Blood Spray because that film broke me and I just really, really, really want to just take care of him and love him and yeah…so hope you enjoy!

Context: You’re the latest member of Lupin's gang. Whenever the gang needed a place to lie low, extra intel, or someone to help patch them up, you were the one they called upon. You always tried to stay ready for whatever they may throw at you…but what happens when the stoic samurai (whom you may have feelings for) of the group comes to your aid after winning a death match and what's to come of your relationship as just more than wounds are exposed.

Content Warning: sensual content (heavy touching, kissing, really soft romantic stuffs), brief mentions of blood and bodily wounds.

Word Count: 3.5 k (oops)

Goemon Ishikawa XIII x F!Reader - Like Real People Do

It was another uneventful evening in your tiny, cozy, humble cabin in the forest not far from the bottom of a gorgeous mountain.

You were going through the motions of making dinner. You always somehow make more portions than necessary, but it left you with enough to keep you fed for the week.

You just never know when the gang may need 6 if they need somewhere to lay low, and they always seem to be hungry.

You have known Lupin and the others for a few years now. You crossed the gang during a heist of your own where both your goals were the same.

And you know what they say about if you can't beat them, join them.

Lupin was thrilled to have another lady ally while Jigen and Goemon weren't too fond of the idea. Fujiko had a mixed reaction between being elated and having a female companion to be envious of having Lupin's attentions possibly deviated from her.

However, after years of consistent aid and comradery to the gang, they slowly came around.

Over the years, it was easy to see how you had a soft spot for the motley crew of thieves. They each had their own personality that either complimented each other or made for amusing banters and creating an abundance of cherished memories.

You could say you've never laughed so hard or genuinely enjoyed yourself as much as when you were with them.

There was always something new but the people stayed the same. You somehow knew what to expect from them while embracing the unexpected from what they got themselves into.

What you didn't expect was a knock on your cabin door. Lupin usually sent a note or called on your burner cell if he or the others were coming.

Your body went rigid. You scanned your surroundings for the nearest pliable weapon. You settled for the cleaver you were using to cut tonight's dinner.

You slowly approached your door when another racket of knocks hit your door.

A deep, strained, but familiar voice called your name through the door. “It's me…”

You furrowed your brows as you slowly lowered your weapon and simultaneously reached for the door handle.

“Goemon?” You turned the door, still tense and ready in case it was some kind of trick, but you knew the samurai's voice anywhere.

Once you opened the door, your kitchen utensil turned weapon fell to the floor with a crashing clatter.

“G-Goemon?”

He was pale. His once warm obsidian irises were bloodshot. The man that would stand tall or sit straight in his neutral meditative pose was limping to the side, slouched over in pain.

There was blood, so much that stained what remained of his trademark traditional clothes. You feared to find out how much of it was his or his enemy's.

He didn't say anything as you flung his arm around your shoulders and got him inside to immediately begin treating him.

You couldn't deny the hurtful pang in your heart at the state Goemon was in.

You're used to the usual stab or gunshot wound, but this was far worse…

Minutes turned into hours as you finally got control of Goemon's bleeding, your heart twisting at just how much blood he possibly lost just getting to you.

You did your best to stitch the deep scar that cut from his right shoulder diagonally to the lower left side of his back.

The slash along his arm was disinfected and tightly bandaged.

The lacerations took priority over the various bruises and minor scabs you also detected…not that there was much you could do for them anyway.

Neither of you spoke a word. The only sound resonating through the living room was the pops and cracks of the ongoing fire.

You didn't want to pry.

Whether it was out of respect for the man that he would tell you in his own time or you were too nervous to find out and feel guilty that you weren't there to help…you weren't sure, possibly both.

“Okay…I've stitched up those wounds as best as I could. Everything's been disinfected and covered up…” You gently patted the covering you put on his back, in some attempt of comfort.

“Thank you…” Goemon grumbled the first sentence he spoke since you allowed him in.

“Don't mention it…that's what I'm here for.”

Goemon hummed in acknowledgment, although it looked like he wanted to say something else.

You bit your lip as a thick silence took over the room.

Whenever heists got hectic or when the gang had to recoup from a setback, you always gravitated towards Goemon.

In all the chaos and mishaps, you could always rely on him to mostly remain calm, and it would rub off on you and allow you to regain control of your nerves.

Goemon, being the bashful man he is when it comes to women, was very cautious and confused as to why you came to him.

When his curiosity got the better of him and he asked you why this is, you said:

“I just…you help me feel safe and calm, I suppose, especially when things sorta get crazy…I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable at all.” You chuckled nervously.

You remember the way your heart fluttered at his sweet smile and the soft reddening of his cheeks before he turned his head away to shield himself from further embarrassment.

“I…I'm glad I can do that for you…” He responded shyly, still not fully facing you.

His smile widened when he heard your giggle.

From then on, Goemon slowly got more accustomed to your close proximity.

Secretly relishing in the fact you trusted your wellbeing with him despite who he is and what he's done.

You hoped that in some way with Goemon being here and now on the road to healing from his wounds, you're returning the favor by offering a safe space for him.

You got up from resting on your knees behind his back and walked around him to face him.

Goemon was in his usual position, legs criss-crossed, arms crossed, and his eyes closed.

That is until his eyes creaked open to look at you as he felt your presence move around him.

“I-is there anything else you need?” You asked as you tried to focus your eyes on his and not his fully exposed, now bandaged torso.

Goemon closed his eyes as if in thought. He opened his eyes once more and looked at you.

“May I stay? Just for a few days…”

His eyes somehow looked more tired than before, and the slight bags under them seemed heavier…

“Of course…stay as long as you need.”

~~~~~

Goemon seemed to silently accept your offer of staying as long as he needed. Seeing as how way more than “a few days” have passed and he was still here with you.

Not that you were complaining, you enjoyed his presence, and you were able to keep tabs on his recovery.

Plus, maybe just maybe this could be your chance to get closer to the samurai and not worry about being interrupted by the others.

It had been almost a week when Goemon finally opened up to you about how he ended up in the condition he did.

You tried your best to hide the guilt that slowly crept up inside.

The last you heard from anyone in the gang was Lupin and Jigen targeting a cruise with a full casino and only knew that it would likely port where you reside now.

There was no way for you to know how everyone's paths would cross, how the objectives changed, and how the events would play out.

Goemon didn't ignore the crestfallen look on your face as your head fell at the end of his tale with him arriving at your temporary home.

Your eyes widened at the soft, feathery touch that landed on the bottom of your chin.

Goemon gently lifted your head up to face him, his hand quickly falling away from your skin as his eyes met yours.

“There's nothing you could have done before any of those events…you couldn't stop or help me…but in the end…the very end you were here when I needed you the most…and for that, I'm grateful.”

“I-I know it's just…” You sniffled, trying and failing to keep your tears at bay.

It's hard to hear how someone you cared about felt so defeated that he trained himself nearly to death just to almost die by his enemy he swore to defeat and come out victorious but deeply wounded.

Goemon shuffled in his trademark sitting position. He can't recall a time when he's seen you get upset. He instantly determined he didn't like seeing you cry.

You began hastily wiping the tiny tears at the corners of your eyes on your sleeve. “T-thank you for telling me…I'm so glad you came and that you're here now, Goemon.”

He nodded firmly with a warm hum.

As night fell and you wrapped up cleaning the dishes from that night's meal, you settled behind the samurai to do a nightly check-in on his wounds.

You pray he doesn't notice your fingers resting longer than necessary along the scar currently rising against his skin across his back. The lingering caresses, a faux test for any pain or tenderness to the healing wound.

Each opportunity to touch his bare skin for originally medicinal purposes has now turned into tiny indulgences…

It’s not often Goemon is openly vulnerable or trusting to many others, but you swelled up with the fact that he seemed to trust you.

You wish you could just wrap your arms around him, hold his hand, run your fingers through his hair, kiss him…love him fully and openly…

Goemon glanced at you over his shoulder. He softly whispered your name, noticing your far away eyes.

“Hm?” You looked up and were surprised to see Goemon looking at you. “Oh, uh…sorry, I got lost in thought…”

You quickly stood up and took a gander around the room. You tried and failed to find anything to occupy your mind away from the colleague, currently half naked, sitting on your living room floor.

“Is there something wrong?” Goemon asked, looking up at you.

You broke from your reverie when you realized what your actions may have unintentionally told him.

“No, not at all. Everything's fine,” You found some composure to sit across from him again on the floor.

“Your wounds are healing nicely, and there's no signs of an infect-”

“That is not what I meant..” Goemon, cut off your sentence.

“O-oh…still there's nothing wrong…nothing for you to worry about..”

“If it troubles you, I worry.” Goemon said, as he pulled up the top of his kimono over his shoulders.

Such a profound statement, yet he said it so casually as if he was discussing the weather.

You could feel your heart beat rapidly against your ribcage. Your eyes shifted around as if you could find the answer in the various cuts and dents in the wooden floorboards.

Goemon called your name once more.

You looked to him immediately, obediently.

“If you wish not to discuss it…I understand, but I would appreciate it if you did. Perhaps I could be of help.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly. How could he possibly help when he’s the reason for this dilemma in the first place.

You closed your eyes as you sighed, as if in defeat.

You lowered yourself onto your knees as you rested on your haunches in front of him.

His eyes seemed to soften as he gave you a small contented smile, hoping this was you finally opening up to him as he has to you.

“I’m…not sure where to start…” you whispered dumbfounded to where to begin.

From the very start or when he first walked through your door? When you first felt butterflies around him or how you weren’t ready to let him leave you, which you knew was inevitable?

You stared down at your hands, and one hand cupped the other as your fingers linked and unlinked from each other. You never felt so helpless and over something so…juvenile as having feelings over someone you have now known for years.

Were you ready to risk that partnership? You may not be able to work with Lupin and the others if this confession goes downhill. The last thing you want is to put anyone in any awkward positions.

Another pair of hands reach out and cradle your own. Somehow, it felt like you finally ascended from the vastest depths of the ocean.

You followed the hands, up to the arms, up to the handsome face of Goemon. He seemed somewhat unsure, with a slightly crooked smile and side shrug. Yet his eyes seemed certain and adamant as his pupils never darted away from yours.

“I…I don’t want you to go…” You admitted with the relieving breath you released. “I enjoyed having you here with me…just the two of us…and I can’t say I won’t worry about you when you’re gone, not that I never did before but…I just want to be with you. I’ve wanted to be with you for a long time now…” You glanced down at your hands as they switched out from under his grasp to replace with your own before squeezing his hands in earnest.

You kept your head down, somewhat worried you would lose your nerve otherwise. “I've tried to ignore it…tried to suppress it. Knowing the life we live, there's really no room for…romance at least not the fleeting, giving and taking kind…and you deserve better than that.”

Goemon softly shook his head in disagreement, but he let you continue.

“And I don't ever want to be in the way of your training, your journey. I don’t want to hold you back…but since you came to me…I've just tried to enjoy the time I had with you alone while I could…”

You looked back up with a sad side grin. “Pretty selfish of me…huh?”

This time, you noticed Goemon shake his head. “If anyone is selfish, it's me. I could have left at any time, but I chose not to. I, too, wanted to stay with you longer.”

“Why?”

Goemon's eyes shifted from side to side as his cheeks flushed. “I was hoping it would be obvious…”

He slid his hands out from yours but quickly interlocked his fingers with yours, finally properly holding each other's hands.

“I also long to be with you. Dare I say, for the amusement being with Lupin and the others has given me, in addition to the occasional disdain-”

This comment made you giggle.

“-You somehow always brought peace. I could rely on you for moments of solace even in the more tense of situations…”

“You're thoughtful and compassionate especially towards me and to…not expect something from me in return…”

“I never wanted anything from you, I just…”

Goemon's thumb softly caressed your own. “I know…”

Your heart swelled, but instead of anxiety inflating it, it was the pure adoration you had for the samurai. The adoration you have tried to keep on a leash and hoped for the longest time it would fade, but now it’s present and prospering with each second you were with him.

There was a beat of comfortable silence as you both enjoyed the feeling of your hands joined in the other, like they were always meant to be held.

But you wanted more. To be vastly closer to him than you were now.

You knew how bashful he was, so you had to tread carefully to not make him uncomfortable.

You tested how far you could go by slowly scooching over to where you sat beside him.

While Goemon’s cheeks began flushing to a stronger red, he didn’t scamper away but sat still, anticipating your next move or possibly planning his own.

“Is this okay?” You asked in a tone barely above a whisper before softly resting your chin on his shoulder, looking up at him for any signs of discomfort.

You could not help the small giggle you let out at seeing how coy Goemon had become.

“Yes.” He replied timidly.

His confirmation gave you the courage to continue. You linked your left arm with his arm while your other reached out to touch his pecs that were exposed from under his kimono.

Your heart fluttered as it felt his own kick into a higher rhythm.

Goemon's eyes never left your face as he watched you follow the slow trail up his skin your hand was making.

You felt the bit of air he inhaled softly as your hand finally made it to the side of his face.

His side smile and hooded eyes encouraged you further as your thumb gently rubbed tiny circles along his heated cheeks.

Your eyes darted at his lips before glancing up to his heated, loving gaze.

You managed to get this far. It would be pointless to go back now.

As you leaned your face closer to Goemon's, you didn't fail to notice you didn't have to nudge his face with your hand as he seemed to follow your lead.

When your sweet lips met his earnest ones, a warmth flooded over your body. A kiss so sweet and gentle, much like the man you kissed.

You slowly albeit reluctantly pulled retracted your lips from his. You snickered at the bewildered look on his face.

“Goemon?” You asked, concerned you may have broken the samurai.

He blinked a few times before he turned his eyes back to you.

“You all right?” You lifted an eyebrow incredulously.

Goemon brought up his other hand and grabbed your hand that resided on his face as he gave it a squeeze.

Although all he could do was nod, it was enough reassurance to drive you to kiss his cheeks.

“You will be the death of me…” He muttered as he closed his eyes to try and fight another onslaught of blushes.

You giggled. “But what a way to go, hm?”

He tsked as he shook his head in disbelief but still smiled endearingly at you as he rested his forehead against yours with his eyes still closed.

You two stayed this way for some time. Just soaking in the warmth and close presence of the other.

Eventually, Goemon wrapped his arm around your waist in an attempt to pull you closer, and you felt like you could melt into him.

You occasionally kissed a part of Goemon's face, and he'd temporarily try and defy how flustered he got with you giggling at his attempts.

You two also shared many more kisses, each one slowly getting longer as Goemon started feeling more confident in the gesture.

Soon, you two fell asleep on the futon Goemon had been sleeping in since his stay in your cabin. His head nestled gently above your own as you lulled yourself asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

You heard a buzzing noise coming from a side table in the living room. You groaned, not wanting to move from your newly claimed spot in Goemon's arms.

Goemon must have also heard it as he slowly removed his arms to allow you to retrieve it.

“I'm gonna kill whoever that was…”

Goemon chuckled. He didn't doubt it.

You got your phone and were even more upset. It was just a stupid text message and not even a call.

When you opened the message, your face turned from annoyed to amused.

“Who is it, love?” Goemon inquired, voice still busy with sleep.

Your heart skipped a beat at the pet name that was going to take some getting used to.

“Who else…Lupin and his exquisite timing..”

“What does he want?”

“To meet him at a hide out in New York ASAP…” You pinched the bridge of your nose.

You typed a short response and then turned your phone on silent and placed it back down on the table.

“We'll worry about it tomorrow.” You declared. “But for now, I wanna keep you for myself some more.” You wrapped your arms around Goemon as you pulled him close and nestled your head back under his.

Goemon hummed softly in agreement as his arms copied yours and wrapped around you as well.

“Fine by me…” He quickly kissed the top of your head.

You smiled contentedly as you slowly fell back to sleep, silently hoping that you wouldn't cruelly wake up to this all being a dream.

Yet with strong arms holding you and a steady heartbeat in your ears, you knew that this was love and it was all real and all yours.

—--

LIII: Oi! Don't hold out on me! How'd it go? I tried to give you time to finally admit your feelings to Goemon-chan, did you do it? Huh? Oh well, don't say I never did anything for ya! Anyway I need my cool samurai back~ so if you could send him my way in proper condition, I'd appreciate it 👍 See ya soon~

#ri writes #goemon ishikawa xiii #goemon ishikawa xiii x reader #ishikawa goemon xiii x reader #may or may not make this a series #where their relationship progresses #and what the reader's relationship is with the other members #still dunno how to tag for this fandom rip #hope this finds the right people rip

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comeonsherry · 7 months ago

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Cherry Blossoms

I finally got around to uploading this Jonlock fic that nobody asked for on here, lol. I mostly upload to AO3, and I turned a lot of my fics to private on there recently for reasons partly discussed in a recent post on here haha. Anyway, here's a hurt/comfort-esque fic. I LOVE it when people hurt each other and apologise for it. Genuinely my favourite type of hurt/comfort. Jon and Sherlock are sweeties. You can take this as platonic or romantic, I don't really mind!

Featuring a gif that I didn't know was by my mutual @spiteful-crow until I used it LOL

Jon had been pissing Sherlock off all day.

It wasn’t a nice feeling, to have someone you care so much about make you feel so desperately overwhelmed, yet, that was how Sherlock was feeling. He was certain of it, and it wasn’t often that he was certain of many of his feelings at all.

Jon did like to talk, he truly did. He preferred talking over everything else in the world, even Sherlock’s wellbeing, it often felt like. Sherlock often reminisces on a night when they were children, Jon simply couldn’t stop talking about their recent case. He was like a man possessed, Sherlock had thought, but then, Jon simultaneously often reminded him of himself in some ways. It’s strange what fantasies the mind will create to stop you from seeing the worst sides of yourself. Even if those worst sides happen to be the side of you that is desperate to talk relentlessly about yourself.

That didn’t mean Sherlock had to enjoy it. He was feeling especially… twitchy, that day. Almost every repetitive noise would set him off into a spiral of being desperate to just… scream, and maybe use the gun he had holstered in his pocket.

“Sherry,” Jon grinned, giving Sherlock a kick from under the table, sending a ripple of annoyance through him, resulting a harsh glare being sent his way, something his enthusiastic companion struggled to care about. “Look over there.” He pointed at the dock below them, where two seagulls seemed to be committing some sort of… inappropriate act together. The young detective barely suppressed a disgusted shudder, turning back to Jon with an eyeroll.

“Honestly, could you be anymore immature, Jon?” He snapped, narrowing his eyes and clenching his fist around the glass in his hand. He could see the other man thinking up a witty remark, and the very idea of it pushed Sherlock over the edge, cutting him off before he could even try. “You’ve been irritating me all day. It’s been constant talking, it’s always talking with you! Would it be such a burden for you to try being quiet for once?” He snarls, getting to his feet and pointing an accusatory finger at his oldest, and closest friend. Perhaps his only friend. “I’ve been on a thin string with you today, my friend, but instead of realising it, perhaps trying to offer a few steadying words, you’ve taken a pair of shears to it and snapped it right in half.” Sherlock rifled through his wallet, his usually pale face remarkably flushed with anger, a very rare sight. “I truly hope you’ve enjoyed yourself.” He finished, slamming his drink payment down on the table and storming off before his stunned Jon could say anything.

Sherlock found himself in his childhood bedroom not even an hour later, curled up in a not-so-gentlemanly way, his knees tucked to his chest, his holster, jacket, and waistcoat long since discarded to the floor, one hand running tensely up and down his arm in some pathetic way to self soothe. Jon hadn’t shown himself since Sherlock had berated him, and embarrassed himself in front of a cafe through of people by ranting quite heatedly at thin air. He liked to pretend that his absence was due to wanting to give Sherlock some space, but deep down, (though, perhaps not too deep down, because he knows Jon better than anybody else does), he knew that it was because he was in a huff. Another childish ability Sherlock convinced himself he had lost years ago, that Jon had somehow managed to keep.

“Anything to say for yourself, then?”

Clearly, Jon wasn’t so upset with his oldest friend that he couldn’t come and drag a disgruntled apology from his lips.

Sherlock simply grunted in response, rolling his eyes and pulling his knees tighter to his chest. Who said Jon deserved an apology? If anything, it was Sherlock who deserved an apology. His needs had been ignored all day, he’d been emotionally and sensorily trampled on every five seconds. It wasn’t fair.

Jon’s voice broke Sherlock’s preferred silence, causing him to pull the pillow over his ears.

“Right, and you say I’m the one who throws tantrums.”

Sherlock sits up, indignation clear on his flushed face. He glares straight at Jon, his blue eyes piercing the man’s soul, if he even has one. Which Sherlock assumes he does, because how could a man with so many emotions not have a soul? Perhaps that makes Sherlock soulless. He doesn’t particularly understand such things, and he doesn’t particularly try to.

He takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes. “I do realise that I’m not often one to apologise for things,” Sherlock pauses, his eyes slowly opening, pupils focusing back in on Jon like a cat’s on its unsuspecting victim. “But I suppose, in this case, it is necessary. I,” He breathes, “am sorry, Jon. It was wrong of me to have said such terrible things about you, and in fact, I usually find your chatter to be quite refreshing.”

Jon tilts his head, eyeing Sherlock up and down before giving him a brief nod, coming to sit beside him on the bed, where the other had now swung his legs over to have his feet meet the wooden floor. “Thanks, Sherry.” He offers a small smile, the gesture is enough to make Sherlock’s heart twist, a strange, awfully guilty sensation resting heavily in his chest. “I know you only said it because you were upset.” Sherlock shakes his head, hesitating for a moment before placing a cool hand on Jon’s own. “No,” He stops him. “That’s not any excuse. I still could have asked you to stop talking in a more pleasant way,” His eyes dart to the floor once more, “Jon, I never want you to think that you are unwanted. You are not. You are my closest companion. My friend. My… partner.” The words fell from the consulting detective’s lips like petals from a cherry blossom tree; soft and easy. Sherlock had never found it simpler to convey his feelings than with Jon. The man was his other half, in more ways than one.

Jon blinked, half-blindsided by the sudden words of kindness, half-filled with his own chest-aching guilt. “I know,” He gave Sherlock’s hand a squeeze. “I know. I really do.” He sighs, brown eyes meeting blue. “I owe you an apology as well, Sherlock.” It wasn’t often Jon used Sherlock’s full name, it was often some variation of ‘Sherry’, which Sherlock never protested to. Still, he wasn’t going to protest to this, either. “I pushed you too far today, I did. It wasn’t fair, I knew you were upset, or– or overwhelmed, or… whatever you were today, and I still pushed it. You would never have snapped at me like you did, had I not been the one to shove you over the edge.” Jon gives a hesitant nod, a way of recognising his own mistakes from the day. Sherlock appreciates the gesture, a weak smile crawling onto his face; the only one he can force his overworked facial muscles to produce at the moment. “For that, my friend, I am truly sorry.”

Sherlock lets his hand be guided to Jon’s lips, feeling their softness press to the back of it as his face flushes, practically cherry red. He looks down at the floor, almost too embarrassed to meet Jon’s gaze. “Thank you, Jon.” Thank you.

#jonlock #frogwares sherlock #frogwares sherlock holmes #frogwares jon #this is NOT BBC sherlock trust #jonlock frogwares #frogwares jonlock

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syoul · 10 months ago

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SYOUL PROFILES

(the unserious but also equally as serious ver.) not proofread but this might get deleted later anyways lmfao

warnings: mentions of food, child neglect, manipulation, swearing. lmk if anything else.

ISEUL: cuddle bug first, idol and songwriter second. the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree; knows manipulation and performs it well. too soft for the liking of others however, and is often stuck between the conflicts of not being enough of a man. born to slay, forced to nay. another tale of time wasted at a company who wouldn’t even look his way for a mere minute lmfao. could’ve debuted on two separate occasions but the higher ups said “nope!” and well. here he is now. people pleaser #1; was born to puppet strings and will continue to be tied to them until he decides to cut them off, even if he thinks he already did.

OLIVER: born to “Rawr XD”, forced to “Grrr Bark Bark Alpha male-core”. haunted by the wolf that lurks in his family’s past. protective to the point where he can be overbearing—depends highly on the situation—but would lay his life down for this little “family” they have going on. outcasted for most of his childhood and trainee days; school messed him up a lot. my bad. but fuck them, there’s no way any of that can reach him now. right?

SEOJUN: tired #1. the stone pillar with no visible cracks until you knock a hand against it to find it hollow. the product of absent parents and being a witness to their favouritism for his older brother. despite that, the two of them are extremely close. simultaneously needs a lifetime supply of coffee and to be cut off from caffeine entirely. the glue of the group and is the main one to set his foot down. will not stand for any injustice and is a little too venomous when it comes to protecting his group; sometimes his defence turns into more of an attack, but what’s the difference when the group is the main topic? is sick and tired of the doubt and comparison, even more than seven. he’s just better at hiding it.

MARS: the sanest one by technicality but doesn’t seem like it. someone who tries so hard to be loved and is constantly searching in all the wrong places. touch starved and really just needs a good hug and to be told he’s doing amazingly. the exuberant one who puts himself out there because he’ll do anything to have this group survive. sm 100% regrets letting him go; he was willing to do whatever they wanted of him if it meant his efforts were recognized even a little bit. it’s funny because he loves dancing and is damn good at it but the old management didn't want to classify him as a dancer so they wrote him for every position except for dancer.

KJ: tired #2. punishes himself for a childhood he had no control over; nothing was his fault but in some ways, it was. literally a wet cat caught in the rain. looks nice enough to help out but might bite and hiss if you try to give him an umbrella. is overly cautious when it comes to being shown kindness; please don’t mind the side eyes and the calculating glare, he’s trying to accept it as such i swear. has like. has 2-3 close friends outside of the group and really doesn’t plan on making more unless you’re really persistent. doesn’t look all too threatening but you better watch out if you get him mad; that’s a whole territory no one has seen before. venom in his words is his main weapon and he’s damn good with it too.

RYO: can do no wrong in everyone’s eyes. the nicest out of the entire group and also the most forgiving. the willing dog counterpart to oliver’s feral wolf like nature. people pleaser #2 and would show his belly without a second thought. stupidly trusting, but not naive. if that makes any sense. the second punisher. carries a guilt so deep, you’d have to remove his heart to get it out of his system. none of it was his fault; they told him otherwise.

SEVEN: angsty babygirl coded. a pack of fireworks if they were shaped into a human; he’s not dangerous compared to dynamite when he blows, but it stings nonetheless. at least he’s pretty though. will play nice until you decide to stop. but like, his definition of playing nice when it comes to people he’s wary of is batting them around with his claws slightly out. or ig in this case, spikes out bc um he’s so hedgehog coded to me. or orange cat. both work. he’s just prickly. the second best facade next to seojun; his is just a little bit more crackable if you know where to push.

#i. 　❝ ... now i'm free. ❞ 　﹕⠀ profile.#fictional idol community #fictional idol group #fictional idol oc #fake kpop boy group #fake kpop group #kpop oc #kpop addition #oc kpop group #idolverse #fake idol group

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waterfallofspace · 1 year ago

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🦊 w fukuzawa? If you don't mind the double req I'm so sorry 😭

No worries in the slightest hun! I don't mind at all~~

🦊 Animal allergies for F/ukuzawa, dropped under cut! (a little longer then the others but still a drabble technically~)

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

Kunikida’s voice sounds out from the kitchen, quickly followed by the faint sounds of Atsushi mumbling. Dazai meets Ranpo’s gaze with a smirk that’s quickly returned.

“Boys,” Yosano says, lounging on the couch. “Care to explain what that’s all about?”

Neither responds, though in their defence, there wasn’t exactly a chance to. Before anyone can get another word in, Kunikida bursts from the kitchen, dragging Atsushi by one hand, and a cat by the other. Yosano barely contains her giggles as she realizes he’s holding them both by the scruff of their necks.

“Did any of you know about this?” Kunikida demands, glaring around the room.

Dazai speaks up first, mischief lighting up his face. “Yes, of course I did. We brought Atsushi on, what, a few weeks ago? Did you really not notice, Kunikida-kun?”

The sheer violence that flashes through Kunikida’s eyes suggests that, had he not been carrying two strays, someone might have died today. Instead he settles for a deeply irritated sigh, collecting himself before he speaks again.

“I meant the kitten. Ranpo-san? You of all people must understand why we can’t allow this.”

Ranpo leans back in his chair, eyes still carefully concealed. With a balanced tone, he gestures to Atsushi. “We kept that one. Why not this one too?”

Kunikida’s mouth drops open, his glasses starting to fall down his nose. “Surely you remember what today is, right? And why we absolutely, unconditionally, must not let-”

“Kunikida,” A deep voice sounds out from the door, all eyes turning to greet it. “What are you holding?”

Dazai nearly suffocates as he attempts to smother his laughter at the look that crosses Kunikida’s face. Any colour that he might have had is replaced by a sheen of sweat over his now pale skin.

“P- president I… I didn’t… it’s not what it looks like!”

Fukuzawa simply blinks, casting his dark gaze from Atsushi, to the kitten, and back again. “So you didn’t find Atsushi bringing a kitten into the agency?” The firmness to his voice leaves the words sounding harsh, but from the back Ranpo giggles, easily seeing the humour in his tone.

As Kunikida attempts to find a sentence that fits the situation, Atsushi speaks up from his position hanging just off the floor. “I’m sorry sir, it was just sitting out in the alley, and… and it looked so sad… I couldn’t just leave it there! I promise it won’t stay here long, m- maybe I’ll find it a home, or bring it to a shelter, or-”

“Nonsense,” Fukuzawa interrupts, letting his gaze soften a little at the wince Atsushi lets slide across his form. “The kitten will remain here, in your care.”

“B- but president, sir, aren’t… aren’t you-” Kunikida begins, cutting himself off as Fukuzawa shooks him a look. Normally that look would be enough to silence him, however the iridescent sheen under his eyes offsets the harsh quality.

A moment of silence passes, no one daring to interrupt the non-verbal conversation taking place between the two. Finally the argument seems to come to a quick end as Fukuzawa spins on his heel, ducking into his arm.

“yRRSHh’oo-! yyiHHShhuh-! hh’RSHhuh-!”

Kunikida immediately takes a few steps back, Atsushi dragging along with him, too surprised to resist. Yosano and Dazai offer simultaneous blessings, a western custom that the agency had begun using when Dazai had arrived, and Ranpo remained silent.

Raising his head, there’s a slight tint to Fukuzawa’s cheeks. “Excuse me, I apol… hold on- rRSHh-! ERSHH-! ERSHHH’uuh-!” This time he only makes it into his hand, taking the tissue Dazai passes with a grateful nod, and turning away to clean up.

“I’m so sorry sir, I… I had no idea!” Atsushi begins, trailing off into a series of rambles, some entirely unrelated to the current issue. He only manages to pull himself together when Kunikida switches out the collar grip for a firm smack.

“It’s quite alright,” Fukuzawa responds, though his words are undercut by the tissue pressed to his face. “You had no way of knowing. Besides, just because I’m al… allergic- heH’RSHH-! ERSHH’uu-! Excuse me. Allergic to them, doesn’t mean I don’t still enjoy their company.”

At this, Ranpo finally chimes in, laughter evident in his voice. “You should have seen him last year. There was a stray outside the building and he brought it home. He was a mess for a full week after that, called out ‘sick’ from the office.”

All eyes turn back to Fukuzawa, Yosano giving him a playful glare. “You should have told us, I would have brought you antihistamines.”

Fukuzawa gives a quick nod, eyes watering once more as he ducks back into his arm. “HRSHh’uh-! rRSH-! eh’RSHhoo-! I was… was- ARSHH’uh-! I was handling it myself. I keep a supply at home in case of…” He trails off, gesturing vaguely to the current situation.

Kunikida takes this opportunity to hand the kitten back to Atsushi, before turning to Yosano. “Can you go get some now for the president? Seeing as he didn’t know this was coming, I’m assuming he hasn’t taken anything.”

A glance at Fukuzawa confirms the suspicion, and Yosano hurries off to fetch some meds. Atsushi retreats further back, still offering rambling apologies under his breath.

Fukuzawa silences him with a nod, tissue still tightly clutched to his nose. “I’ll be id mby office. Please sedd the docdor idn soodn.”

“Of course, president-” Kunikida begins, pausing for-

“HRSHHuh-! ERSHH’oo-!”

Before finishing with a softer, “And bless you.”

#waterfallasks #waterfalldrabbles #i always have fun writing group agency scenes #i just think they're so fun i adore them #hopefully you enjoy this~!#thank you for both requests~~

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criscura · 2 years ago

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...I don't think this anon did it on purpose or even really noticed it, so I'm not saying it was intentional at all and 100% wasn't meant to come off this way, but still: immediately turning "women who've been manhandled without their consent don't like being randomly grabbed" into "that's calling Saitama a molester" seems to be EXACTLY the POV issue Nysh was trying to point out. That's completely disregarding Tatsumaki's perspective in the middle of an arc devoted to exploring hers and her sisters' past, and trying to change it so it's all about Saitama--which it isn't. He's the main character of the series, but he's a side character here...and to be honest, right now he's kind of the antagonist (which he's....been more and more recently ;;;;;)

I'm just gonna copy-paste something I wrote on Reddit:

This is probably the MOST worked up and stressed out Tatsumaki has been in an extremely long time, and not a small part of it is because of Saitama. (Rest under the cut)

Here she is after having opened herself up to collaborating with someone (which is such a vulnerable position if you're not used to it, but ESPECIALLY for Tatsumaki) only to have it fail because that person did things they didn't tell you about beforehand. That person also happens to be your little sister, who is THE MOST IMPORTANT THING to you in the ENTIRE world. You're working with her to thwart the organization that stole you away as a child, experimented on you, and left you to die--which gave you so much trauma (to the point where it changed you physically) that you can barely function as an adult because you can't socialize or have healthy relationships with anyone, so your entire existence is filled with reminders of the terrible shit that happened to you. That organization ALSO happened to nearly kill your sister as you were forced to watch because she was too trusting of other people, which you've repeatedly and excessively warned her about for years. And the whole reason you went out on a limb to work with her was because you wanted to save someone who'd be abused the exact same way you were.

None of that is to mention that she was in a space that was probably deeply reminiscent of the facility where she was locked away--cold clinical walls and jail cells tucked away where no one could possibly hear you scream for help, except for people who don't care how much pain you're in and are causing it themselves.

She was in a hostile environment tailor-made to put her on edge; dealing with the criminally abusive people who fucked her up permanently as a child when she couldn't defend herself and the only people who could have saved her (her parents) didn't, mirroring her employers' current actions; watching said abusers nearly kill the single person she cares about while she was rendered impotent and immobile, having been reinforced in her deep-rooted fear/belief that you can never rely on anyone else for anything; and all the while Psykos is sitting behind her as a reminder of what she could have become--someone drugged to the point where they're almost chemically lobotomized and sold off to be cut up and experimented on, fulling stripping them of any agency and turning them into a glorified autopsy mannequin.

SO SHE DEALS WITH THAT. She saves the day. She pulls it off. Her adrenaline is probably going down enough for the emotions to kick back in.

And then fucking--here comes Saitama, who physically stops her from doing anything and pretty much reduces her RIGHT back to that defenseless child she used to be the moment she was coming down from the stress everything that just happened. I wouldn't be surprised if the way he was holding her was the exact same way someone had to drag her back to her cell. It ALSO doesn't help that Tatsumaki knows Saitama sees her as nothing but a kid who has temper tantrums--because he's made that explicitly clear on more than one occasion. And it also ALSO doesn't help that he simultaneously posed a threat as another "friend" of Fubuki's who could take advantage of her, and then IMMEDIATELY hurt her feelings really bad.

It's no fucking wonder she lost her absolute shit and started going nuclear the moment she realized she couldn't force Saitama to get the hell off her. By just walking up and grabbing her, he pretty much invalidated whatever self-assurance she'd given herself in that moment, which was SORELY fucking needed after that whole affair.

I'm not trying to dismiss people's pasts and feelings, but I am not okay with anyone labeling Saitama as a molester or assailant. I also never stated the grab was romantic. It was cute. Tats was surprised, but it didn't look like in a bad way, more so "oh...wtf this guy is tough stuff" and maybe as someone on the sub said, she hasn't been held in a very long time. If ever. But that's a bit more farfetched. There was something unique to it.

I also fully agree, as we saw in the webcomic, he was just trying to forcefully escort her out so she didn't do more damage, and she wouldn't come willingly. Tatsumaki is a hero, not a fragile woman, and Saitama I think is treating her that way. Personally I'm excited to see his evolution from sassy lost child to "yeah I guess she's okay" that we got in the webcomic, despite the midget/baldy comments. Saitama is just being Saitama.

?? Literally no one is calling Saitama that. (Unless there's discourse on reddit/twitter I haven't seen about it?) But there is a rattlesnake's warning here, in that if he's not careful tiptoeing the line, even Tatsumaki will begin to misunderstand him as such. :O Note that even Reigen asked/apologized first to Tome before 'hugging' her in a serious situation (in a self-sacrificial move to transfer the evil spirits possessing her onto him as the new host), but curiously Saitama 'being Saitama' doesn't show that same awareness/consideration about breaking boundaries while continuing to grab her. Hmm~

He also recently uncomfortably overstepped in between Garou & Tareo's business making the situation worse, and if Saitama ever carelessly breaks Genos' heart in another misunderstanding about their relationship on top of this, then I'll suspect the pattern is from ONE intentionally portraying Saitama's.....social incompetence(?) and oblivious/careless 'accidents' as something...weirdly problematic that Saitama himself needs to notice and address before he mistakenly makes an ass of himself or seriously fucks up again in a way he never saw coming. A bold and risky move if ONE's really trying to flip things by making those sides of his mc come off as....questionably unlikable to the audience in his conduct as opposed to Saitama's usual endearing warmth & trustworthiness. But that's a separate topic.

So therein lies the other thing - the scene reads very differently depending on the reader's perspective.

Cause what might read as 'cute' and harmless (or even horny) shipbait to reddit boys (and how they fantasize/assume fictional girls should react in these situations) is absolutely NOT to any real woman who knows what it's like to be in Tatsumaki's shoes. :') That's the difference - where that 'something unique' becomes instead that very real inescapable baggage, or even a walking nightmare, to any female reader having to relive the experience every time the 'trope' gets repeatedly handfisted and misled to the male audience as something acceptable she must 'secretly' like. (When no, it's often the opposite - the manhandling's not something 'cute,' or flirty, or nice, flattering or comforting to envision as a basis for a romantic m/f relationship to form, is all. But yes, normally anything that floats your boat is fair game, just be aware that this 'baggage' is often what prevents many women from seeing it or getting on board, and that's why for ex BL is often a solution by 'removing' the constant baggage of a woman's lived experience to safely enjoy/explore media again, but that's a whole separate topic too) It's just unfortunate that Saitama of all characters must be subjected to this kind of trope if it risks negatively impacting his appeal to the female audience - who would recognize and instinctively frown at him shoving himself into her personal space, so I hope ONE's aware of that (he must, if he was self-aware enough to write Reigen.) But also if you see a Tatsumaki react by blushing like an embarrassed tsundere who 'likes' forceful contact from a stranger, instead of exploding in pure righteous rage at the misunderstanding, then welp that's on ONE, there ya go~

But anyway ASIDE ALL THAT!!! Yes, seeing Saitama and Tatsumaki's interactions naturally evolve beyond the unfortunate misunderstandings (that piss either side off - so hopefully they can clear them up) is something to genuinely look forward to! :'D

#talk dirty to me #tatsumaki #she is fucking GOING THROUGH IT this chapter #gosh.......#and not for nothing #i've been thinking about the way he grabbed her #saitama ONLY picks up and carries kids like that #like......FUCK man #way to kick her when she's down

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hotwings0203 · 4 years ago

Text

The Middle Ground

*Deep breath*

Woo. Okay. First of all I would like to thank everyone for 400 freaking followers. That is seriously so insane to me, I mean I’ve only been on Tumblr for like half a year.

This piece is a contribution to @bakugosbratx ‘s collaboration. It has around 40k words in total, so it’s my longest piece yet. Because Tumblr formatting is shit, I have provided an Ao3 link in case you like the chapter setup better there. I hope you all enjoy, and please please heed the warnings ahead!

Pairing: Bully!Fiance!Touya x F reader

Summary: You've been friends with Tenko Shimura for as long as you can remember...but when you're forced into an arranged marriage with Dabi, that friendship is put to a test.

TW: Noncon, bullying, language, Dabi and Hawks are scumbags, gangbang, graphic depictions of violence, gang violence, arranged marriage

Tags: @hi--rubi @bakugosbratx

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31747549

Touya Todoroki kicks out his legs and slumps into the limo seat. A permanent scowl has inhabited his petulant expression, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by his glaring father and uncomfortable family. It isn’t like he wanted to be here anyway, what were they expecting? Especially when they were practically planning out his whole life’s demise right in front of his eyes.

Think he’s being dramatic?

Try putting yourself in his shoes for a second: after being hounded by his ape-like father to put some hair gel on and to ‘take out those fiendish piercings, you look like a hooligan,’ he was also forced into a suit that felt more like a straight jacket. Worst of all, he had to keep a straight posture.

It was complete, utter torture for the young rogue.

Only after stalking and lurking around his mother for the entire day did Touya have it revealed to him that the place he had to dress up like a prissy for was none other than the house of who he was going to be betrothed to.

Once the bomb was dropped, all hell broke loose in the Todoroki house not like that was anything new, merely hours away from leaving to greet the parents-in-law.

“Is this a fucking joke? You people weren’t even gonna tell me where we were going until I had to beg like a dog!” Touya raged with balled-up fists, smoke curling from his elbows and shins as he stood in his parents’ room and interrogated his mother.

“Language, Touya!” An exasperated Rei Todoroki sighed while ironing her and Fuyumi’s dresses. “You’re of age to get married, and you’re an adult now- you knew this was bound to happen soon.”

“Come on, Touya, it’s not the end of the world. You’ll like her; her family is really well known in hero society for hosting the annual hero galas.” Fuyumi leaned against the doorframe behind her irate brother with her arms crossed, peering disappointedly at him from over the bridge of her glasses. “I’m pretty sure her parents even work in the Hero Commission headquarters, and as for the girl, I’ve heard so many good things about her from-”

“I don’t give a damn about some elitist brat who I’m gonna have to coddle. And I’m still in school, I’m not licensed yet.” Touya snapped at both the women, Fuyumi rolling her eyes and shaking her head as she walked away. Rei let out another heavy sigh and finished up her meticulous ironing.

“I just don’t understand why in the hell you’d tell me on the day of us meeting them, like why couldn’t I have a heads up?”

“Because then we’d have to put up with your little tantrums even more in advance. Plus, it's not like us telling you earlier would’ve changed the decision or your reaction,” Natsuo called out from his room across the hall.

“You know, she’s not some random gold digger. I’m fairly certain her family is more wealthy than us, and by uniting our families, we’ll both have many advantages in society and for a healthy bloodline-”

But Shoto’s chiming in was cut off with the sound of choking from Natsuo drinking something at his last words. Touya didn’t appreciate his least favorite sibling’s unwanted opinion, especially when it was about the topic of banging some prissy chick.

He let Shoto know what he thought of his comment by whipping around with a snarl and towering over the youngest Todoroki.

Well, not really towering since Shoto was quickly catching up to Touya in terms of height, a fact that Touya loathed admitting.

“You-” he jabbed a finger into the other’s firm chest, “-are the last person I wanna hear sex advice from, got it? I doubt a social degenerate like you would even get pussy anyways from the way you can barely understand a joke or social cues.” (“What did I say about language, Touya!”)

Natsuo was positively howling now, and Shoto merely shrugged his brother’s scarred finger off as Touya kept advancing on him and spitting venom. Rei was desperately trying to quell the disaster waiting to happen by raising her voice slightly and telling all her boys to back off and calm down, but she was cut off by Fuyumi calling out to ask for her dress.

“ENOUGH!”

All the other Todorokis simultaneously jumped when they heard his booming voice. Enji Todoroki appeared in front of his family, no doubt growing increasingly irritated by the pandemonium happening. He glared around at them all until his eyes landed on Touya, who grew quiet but still held a scowl on his face. Endeavor’s eyes narrowed as he approached his heir, and Touya subconsciously straightened up taller.

“You can’t make me do this. We’ve never had one single conversation about the topic of marriage, and you think I’m just gonna give in on the night you planned to make me into some domestic schmuck? Were you even going to tell me yourself before we left?” Touya growled, maintaining eye contact with his brutish father.

“You’ll do as I say, Touya. Your duty comes to your family before any wish of becoming a hero. You need to stop acting like a delinquent, and a wife would do some good to tether you to reality-”

“Oh, right, because you’d know all about how to be good to a family, right?” Touya burst out as he sneered and gestured to the scars littering his body.

Even Natsuo had stopped snickering as the house grew deathly quiet. Fuyumi sucked in a soft inhale, Shoto simply stared while observing the spectacle in front of him, and Rei was stock-still.

Endeavor didn’t back down from his son’s impertinence, however. Instead, he stepped forward until both men were chest-to-chest and looked at Touya straight into his face, purposely neglecting to ponder on the way his son’s lip trembled and his eyes twitched as if he wanted to rub them. He knew if he saw Touya as the pouty seven year old he once was and loved, he would give in.

“You will do what I ask. Do not embarrass our family or me.”

Touya’s jaw clenched as he tried to stare his father down, but after a couple of painstakingly long moments he finally looked away. Everyone let out their breaths and started to get their coats. That was that.

End of discussion.

Unbeknownst to him, however, he wasn’t the only one who had been saddled with this news recently.

Your parents might not have told you on the day of said guests coming over, but you weren’t given an option to argue either.

In fact, you were told so casually over dinner a few weeks ago that one would think you were the crazy one for “overreacting,” in the exact words of your parents to be more specific.

“Honey, you’re almost done with your hero licensing school. It's about time you start thinking of your future asides from your job and internships,” your mother had gestured to you as her delicate hands picked up a wine glass.

“Dad, seriously?” You asked in disbelief, fork suspended in midair. “I haven’t even graduated yet, plus you promised when I was done I could intern with you at the headquarters-!”

But your father merely hummed disinterestedly as if the topic of your very imminent future could do with less talking and more of shoveling roast beef into his mouth.

You incredulously turn to your mom, hoping for some reprieve.

“I don’t even know his name. Who is he, and why did you choose him anyway?” you grouch, pouting and pushing the casserole on your plate around.

“His name is Touya Todoroki, and he’s merely a year or two older than you. I’m sure you’ve heard of his father, Endeavor. He’s the number two hero, and I believe his other two children are closer to your age...Natsuo and Fuyumi? Their youngest son is Shoto, you must have seen his performance at the sports festival a little while ago.”

“T-Touya?” You almost choke on your asparagus when you hear his name. “Mom, I’ve seen him like, three times throughout the entirety of me being at that school. And I heard he’s a complete menace too! He’s got a reputation, him and his stupid friends. I know for a fact they’ve been giving Tenko a hard time for the past year for no reason.”

You’re not lying either. You’ve seen the intimidating black-haired boy skulking around some of your classes with his cronies in tow. It wasn’t like he shirked off his grades or anything; you were fairly certain he was pretty smart...when he tried, that is. When he wasn’t ditching class and giving his teachers a hard time, you usually saw him push your best friend Tenko Shimura around. This included shoving the quiet boy down the stairs, clapping him over the head a little too hard to be passed off as friendly, and childishly throwing spitballs and other trash at the back of his head. Fortunately, you’d never had the pleasure of meeting his highness personally, and so far, you’d been secretly grateful for only picking up his binders and homework off the floor of Tenko’s aftermath attacks rather than bearing the full brunt of Touya’s abuse. You weren’t even sure he knew you existed, and to be frank, you’d like to keep it that way.

However, it seemed as though your parents didn’t share the same sentiments.

Your father finally decided to give his piece, which wasn’t in your favor, surprise surprise.

“A sturdy family, they are. We’ve invited them for dinner two weeks from now, so you better curb that attitude of yours well before they arrive. Our decision is final.”

You stay quiet, opting not to argue any further and upset your parents. To be honest, you weren’t known to be too rebellious or spoiled for that matter. You were a straightforward child- you got good grades, you didn’t trouble yourself or your parents with any drama or school nonsense, and you put up a good family name when in the presence of outsiders. To say that you and your parents were joined at the hip would be a bit of a stretch, though. You simply did what they asked, and they rewarded you with anything you wanted. Nothing more and nothing less. It’s not like they forced you to do anything unreasonable except getting married to some degenerate, so you usually followed pursuit.

So, instead of causing a scene at the dinner table, you finish up your food, clear the table, and stomp upstairs in the sanctuary of your room. You flop on the bed, and just for good measure you pummel a pillow in front of you.

This can’t be happening, you groan to yourself.

After a couple of minutes of finishing your tantrum, you decide to call Tenko. He was definitely someone who’d share the same disdain for the name Touya Todoroki.

You dial his number, and after a couple of rings he finally picked up.

“Y/N? What’s up?”

It takes less than 5 minutes for you to explain your ordeal, and he’s quiet for a few moments.

“Tenko? You there?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m still here,” he says slowly.

“Well? What do you think?” You urge, needing him to reassure you you weren’t being unreasonable for not wanting an arranged marriage with some psycho delinquent, family name or not.

“I mean, obviously it sucks ass, and I wouldn’t wanna get saddled with Tou-yuck as a fiance,” you giggle at the absurd nickname and he shares a low chuckle too. “But...I don’t know, I mean I kinda expected you to sound more upset about it.”

“Don’t get me wrong, of course I'm pissed, man. But what the hell am I supposed to do? I can’t really argue my way out of this, and even if I did, it would be so awkward between our families since his dad and my parents work so closely at the HC. I don’t think there's any way to properly react to this,” you finish helplessly, biting your lip.

“Whatever. Just don’t expect me to throw rose petals and rice at him when he shoves me into the lockers after school,” Tenko says dryly, and you can’t help but scoff.

“As if. Y’know, maybe that actually is a silver lining in all this. If we get engaged or whatever during the school year he might just go easy on you if he knows we’re friends.”

“Hmm yeah, maybe we’ll hold hands and throw each other picnics too while we’re at it!” You can practically hear his eye roll over the phone. “Speaking of prince charming, what are you gonna wear when they come?”

Which brings you back to now.

T-minus 30 minutes until the Todorokis make their appearance through your front door.

As much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, there was no mistaking the butterflies in your stomach. You had adorned a warm knee-length dress to match the snow outside yet still look cute, meticulously done your hair in an up-do with some strands framing your face and light makeup. Your goal wasn’t to impress anyone but rather show the best natural side of you so that if any part of you wasn’t satisfactory to what met the Todorokis’ eye, they could still back out.

You stand in front of the mirror and tilt your head slightly, assessing yourself. You look straight at your reflection and practice your bow. After feeling confident in your preparation, you decide to send a quick picture of yourself to Tenko to get his opinion.

6:40: Looks okay?

Not even two minutes later as you’re lacing up your flats does his notification pop up on your screen, and you smile at his punctuality.

Ten-ten: You look great.👍 Don’t freak out okay? It’s not like anyone’s opinion should matter, especially not Tou-yuck’s

6:45: Ugh, you’re right. Idk why I feel like I’m gonna throw up

6:46: Oh fuck I think I hear their car

Wait oh my god it's a limo wtf??

When your parents call you down to greet the guests, you toss your phone on the bed and hobble across the room to close your lights and door. You don’t see the three dots coming up and disappearing as Tenko Shimura deletes the message of ‘actually, you look beautiful’ after reading your answer.

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

You frantically straighten out your dress and wipe your sweaty palms on your knees as you stand behind your parents when they open the door.

First comes in the big man himself, a towering build of brute force and a stoic aura surrounding his presence. His brows are furrowed, but he doesn’t look angry. Your father and Enji shake hands and clap each other on their backs as your family moves back to make space for the rest of the family to enter. A woman you assume to be Rei shakes off the snow from her shoes before stepping inside the threshold, and when you make eye contact and greet her she smiles demurely at you.

It warms your heart, much to your chagrin.

Then, all time seems to stop as you see his shadow step in before he does. Your heart skips a beat or two and the wind swirls around him, causing snowflakes to latch onto his figure and obscure his face for a moment.

But when he fully comes into view, it does nothing to calm your heart that seems to be slamming against your ribcage.

The white snowflakes blend into his porcelain-colored hair, which sticks out in little tufts although you could’ve sworn he had black hair at school…?. Dark purple patches cover underneath his eyes and the lower half of his face, along with small staples that seem to hold the skin up. However, his eyes are what captivate you the most, a bright turquoise that scrutinizes you under the glare of fluorescent lights.

You freeze like a deer in headlights, hesitating a fraction of a second before bowing hastily to make up for the pause. Touya scoffs slightly before barely tilting his head and averting his eyes to your mother, who is ushering the rest of the family inside to the living room. Natsuo, Fuyumi, and Shoto follow after their eldest brother, all of them bowing more respectfully than the first sibling and giving you small smiles and waves.

You trail behind to close the door, wanting to stall as long as possible before the inevitable bonding. As you turn from shutting the dark mahogany, you catch your dad’s eyes as he turns as well and you blanch obviously- needless to say, he isn’t amused and sends you a warning glare.

Taking a deep breath in a poor attempt to still your nerves, you walk as gracefully as you can to the living room, one foot in front of the other. As expected, when you cross into the area all light conversation stops as you reach a seat in one of the white leather loveseats. You can acutely feel Rei and Enji’s eyes especially trained on you as they observe their future daughter-in-law and her mannerisms. Luckily, your parents have given you years of practice in public events on how to act like the perfect little lady.

Poised, calm, and collected, you recall the main attributes your parents had always said elders look for.

“Y/N, was it? I believe you and Touya go to the same school?” Rei speaks up after you settle comfortably, and you can’t help but notice that although their family is known for ice cold or burning hot quirks, her voice reminds you of a good medium between the two; it sounds like springtime, a transition itself.

You fidget uncomfortably before answering. “Yes ma'am, I think so. I might have seen him around the halls, and we may have had classes once or twice…” but you trail off as Touya coughs loudly, and rudely. He turns his head to look away from you not-so-subtly and the room temperature rises a few degrees as Endeavor’s mustache begins to flame. He glares at his son, but Touya stubbornly stares at the floor with an obvious scowl on his face.

Well fuck you, too, you think as your smile begins to strain.

Desperately, Fuyumi tries to fill in the silence by asking a follow up question.

“Um, Y/N, what are you studying? Touya’s trying to get officially licensed at school so he can skip internships and just head straight to dad’s agency after he graduates.”

“Well, since I don’t have a quirk I’m not doing any of the training courses, but my parents have some networks in the Hero Commision. Ultimately I decided to go into Department of Management and General Studies-”

“Wait, you don’t have a quirk?” Touya surprisingly bursts out, eyes bulging out of their sockets. His voice is deep and grating, as if he spent his early days being a chainsmoker.

“No, I don’t.” You say without missing a beat, increasingly getting a good feel of what type of person your fiance is and his possible superiority complex. “But as I was saying, even though I wasn’t born with a quirk I know I can succeed after my parents in aiding the Hero Commission and the annual galas. If I get licensed after graduation, I can kind of follow the same path as you in terms of skipping all the internships and stuff and get straight to work. Y’know, helping out in the foundations of future heroes is just as important as being an actual hero,” You say proudly as you stare straight at Touya.

Your parents and a majority of the Todorokis nod in agreement, and the only one who doesn’t seem to share the same values as you rolls his eyes and mumbles under his breath.

After that nice little ice breaker and a couple of other meaningless conversations between the other siblings and you, your mother finally decides to call in for dinner.

You breathe out a sigh of relief and stand, your dress riding up your thighs for a moment as you get up. Out of the corner of your eye you see Touya glance momentarily at your slightly exposed legs before sliding up your body and finally meeting your eyes. He catches you staring and gives you a knowing smirk. Your face lights on fire and you look around to make sure no one is watching before you flip him the bird.

He actually laughs, and you grimace as the butterflies in your stomach come back to life and travel up your throat.

Natsuo turns around curiously to see the source of his brother’s rare gravely laugh. When he sees you both emerging out of the room at the same time, he flashes you a lopsided grin, very much akin to his brother’s.

You shake your head, trying to quell the rising smile on your face as you take a seat at the marble table. Everyone finds their own chair, and much to your surprise Touya takes one right across from you. Whether or not it's a coincidence, you don’t want to get your hopes up.

Chatter resumes as both sets of parents talk about recent hero news and the missions funded by the headquarters. Shoto and Fuyumi ladle takoyaki and ramen into their bowls while Touya picks at the miniscule helping of the other assortments and kaiseki on his glass plate. You decide to wait until everyone has finished taking food until you start digging in just to be polite, a fact that Natsuo pipes up on.

“You don’t have to wait for us to finish y’know, we’ll just end up keep waiting on each other out of guilt.” he says kindly.

“Oh, no worries. I just wanted to make sure you guys took enough-” but you’re cut off for the second time that evening by the same person, and it takes every ounce of self restraint you have not to dump the ramen bowl on his white hair.

“Yeah, I mean we already know you’re so uptight, no need to shove it in our faces,” Touya rumbles and Natsuo swats his arm as he glances at you apologetically.

“Sorry about him, he’s got a warped sense of humor.”

“It’s fine, I get it. Some people just think they’re better ‘cuz of unseen reasons,even with lame quirks,” you snipe and you hear Shoto subtly snort into his cup.

Touya’s nostrils flare and his forearm erupts in light blue flames. Endeavor and your parents are staring at you both, and it's not just his flames that warms your face.

But Fuyumi, along with her ice quirk, seems to know just how to cool everyone down again.

“Y/N, have you ever helped your parents out in any of the HC events?” she takes your hand in hers, and even though you expect cold palms, all you feel radiating off of her is warmth. She seemed to be saying I’m sorry about him.

So for the time being, you decid to grit your teeth and bear it. It’s not like your parents were even pretending to care about his shitty attitude either, so why should you give in any more?

“Yes, I have actually. A couple of months ago my parents were the sponsors of the annual Hero Gala, and I was the one who sent out the invitations to all the heroes and ensured their attendance. I even got to invite Gran Torino!” You can’t help but say animatedly-no matter how juvenile your excitement is, being in contact with pro-heroes was always exhilarating and nerve-wrecking.

Hench the massive pools of sweat gathering under your armpits.

And finally the youngest speaks up.

“So out of all the heroes you’ve talked to or helped, which one’s your favorite?”

“Uhhh probably Midnight, she's just so badass...and I won’t lie, she's pretty hot too,” you blush and Natuso whoops at the flush in your cheeks. Fuyumi laughs and agrees wholeheartedly, and even Shoto lets out a small smile Touya continues to pick at his sashimi as if no one had spoken.

You marveled at how at home the Todoroki siblings make you feel, even in your own house. They went well together, and fill in the gaps where the other lacked.

Too bad the same couldn’t be said for the one you were destined to marry.

Nevertheless, the rest of the evening went by without any more mishaps or interruptions, thankfully. You and Rei had a couple of conversations too, about school and winter and what you liked to do in your free time. Even Enji spared a minute, but it wasn’t so much of a conversation as it was just a gruff ‘I hear from your father that you’re doing well in school. I might hire you at my agency if you surpass the other students’, and a meek ‘yessir, I’ll try my hardest’ from you.

When it was time to leave, you hugged Fuyumi and shook Natuso and Shoto’s hands along with giving proper bows to Rei and Enji. Only Touya was left, and you’d be damned if you made the first move of civility towards him. You settled for a little bow, peering up at him through your lashes. He mimicked the same motion he did when he first entered, a pathetic little head tilt that you assumed to be the world's worst impersonation of a bow.

But his eyes never left yours, and you couldn’t decipher the unreadable emotion swirling in his blue orbs as he watched your figure bend and lift again. Whatever it was, it didn’t exactly scream proper from the way he allowed his gaze to drop to your chest and thighs not-so-subtly. You shot him a glare and he met you with a sneer before whirling around to bid farewell to your parents.

When the door finally shuts, your parents let out a sigh of relief and turn to you.

“Well, what did you think? Wasn’t their family darling? Oh and Touya was so easy on the eyes too, I don’t think you’ll have any problems getting along with each other,” Your mother babbles incessantly, completely oblivious to you gawking at her.

Is she serious? He acted like a total douche to me all night!

“I agree with your mother. He seems like a solid young man and I know for a fact he’ll make a great husband. Now, Enji gave me Touya’s number and I gave him yours, so you should expect a text from Touya soon. It’s just a formality to overcome, and in addition I want you to let him know we were glad to host him and his family.” Your dad raises his eyebrows expectantly, and you groan, slapping a hand to your face.

“Okay sure, whatever.” Your dad pulls out his phone and you watch glumly as he texts the number to you.

“I’ll text him later, ‘gotta talk to Ten first,” you mutter as you begin bounding up the stairs.

“No Y/N, you’ll do it now. Otherwise, no talking to Tenko. You need to start putting your fiance first instead of any other man.”

You grit your teeth to prevent screaming and make a show of spinning on your heel to face your dad. Smashing your thumbs against the screen, you tap out a curt ‘Hey, this is Y/N. I got your number from my dad, just wanted to say thanks for coming over tonight.’

Oh yeah. Tenko better not have any plans tonight, ‘cuz boy is he gonna get an earful of this evening’s events.

*********

Ping

Touya’s phone buzzes in his hand, and the screen lights up the dark interior of the limo. He squints at the notification, and after seeing your name he scoffs disbelievingly.

“Is it her?” Fuyumi asks excitedly.

“Jesus, keep your fucking voice down, are you trying to announce it to mom?” Touya hisses, and rolls his eyes at his sister’s pout.

All his siblings start clamoring over their seatbelts and each other’s shoes as they try to grab his phone to read the message he received, and it's all Touya can do to curse and ward them off by waving an inflamed arm towards their outreached grubby hands (thankfully Fuyumi easily distinguished his flames with a flick of her wrist, with a rather annoyed look on her face).

By the time the Todorokis reach their house it's late and everyone stumbles inside, eager for warmth and a good shower.

But not Touya.

As soon as the limo is parked he slips off the driveway and trudges off the stone path to his own destination, quickly shooting his friend a text.

“Touya?” he hears his brother calling to him from the lit up path of the driveway. “You comin’ or what?”

“No, I’ll be back in a bit. Just tell them I went to sleep early or something, and don’t let anyone in my room while I’m gone,” Touya mutters.

Natsuo wrinkles his nose and stuffs his hands in his pockets, countering the defensive look the latter was giving.

“...bring me back a cig?”

“Hell no, go the fuck inside, its freezing out here.” Touya snickers, and both boys laugh before heading off in their own ways.

It takes Touya approximately 15 minutes to slink in and out of the shadows to reach the abandoned bar that resides outside the main city. He kicks a broken beer bottle out of the entrance and checks in the dark for a lack of presence before reaching behind the bar counter and fishing around the platform for-

Bingo

He omits a tiny blue spark out of his index finger as he slides into a barstool and lights the cigarette. Taking a long drag of the substance, he tilts his head back and closes his eyes as he exhales the fumes into the empty darkness.

“Goddamn, just ‘cuz you’re immune to fire doesn’t mean we all are Touya,” a suave voice emerges from behind the counter.

Not so empty after all, then.

A dim light switches on and Touya squints to locate the source of the familiar sound. Red fills his vision as his friend’s wings spread, and he zooms in on the roguishly handsome face belonging to Keigo Takami.

AKA Hawks.

The blond makes an obnoxious show of coughing and waving the smoke away, and Touya merely takes another long puff just to blow it into Keigo’s face again.

“So, how’d it go?” He asks, using his wings to wave the offensive fumes away from his pretty face.

Touya shrugs and folds his arms on the counter, letting his head nestle on the cool granite. He closes his eyes, mentally preparing himself for the onslaught of questions that was bound to come his way any minute.

“Oh come on, don’t give me that bull, man. She can’t have been that bad right?”

“Her parents work for the HC. Maybe you should marry her instead,” Dabi shoots his friend a dark look and Keigo raises his hands in a guilty gesture. It was no secret that aside from their incognito vandalism and delinquency, the winged boy had plans to become a great hero at the heart of the HC itself.

“Yeah well, regardless of who seals the deal, either way that’s another good, ah, network for me to know.” He snickers and Touya lazily thrusts a flaming hand at his head, which Keigo easily dodges.

“This is serious man. I don’t wanna be some fucking homebody and raise a bunch of little shits along with having some bitch up my ass all the time.”

“Is she hot at least?” Keigo presses, and Touya feels his eye twitch as his patience wears thinner by each word coming out of his mouth.

“The fuck’s that got to do with any-? I mean, she was alright I guess, not too hard on the eyes…” he thinks for a moment before admitting, “she had sexy thighs, that's for sure. And an okay body overall.”

Keigo whoops and claps Touya on the back, both of them grinning like madmen now.

“That’s what I’m talking about, see now you’re getting the idea.”

“And what’s that?” Touya turns to him fully now, intrigued as to how this could be for his benefit.

“Look, you said she’s not too bad right? So that basically means you got full ownership of some hot chick, and you get to have full access to any records or information you want if she’s joined to the hip with some HC pawns.” The avian’s gold eyes flash and narrow as he thinks it over more.

“This is a win win for you either way, and hey, if you make the missus your little bitch then maybe I get to reap some rewards too, huh?” He elbows Touya playfully.

“Yeah...yeah that’s not a bad way of looking at it now that you mention it,” Keigo can practically see the gears turning in his friend’s head as he whips out his own phone.

“What was her name again by the way? I just wanna see my dear sister-in-laws’ thighs myself,” He sneers as Touya quirks up the corners of his lip.

“F/N? F/N L/N I think. God, she even texted me like, 10 minutes after we left. So fucking desperate,” Touya chuckles as he shows Keigo the message you sent.

The blond’s wings ruffle behind him as he glances at Touya’s phone before thumbing through his own, checking each social media platform for any of your accounts. After a couple of seconds his eyes widen and he positively leers at the screen before shoving the device in the latter’s face.

“Holy shit, I know this girl! Dude, you do too, we had like three classes with her before. I’m pretty sure she runs around with Rumi too. She’s uber smart, you had me thinking she’s some bimbo bitch, man. Oh, and she’s friends with Tenko by the way, just a lil’ heads up.”

At the mention of the scrawny boy’s name, Touya snatches the phone from Keigo’s fingers and holds it mere inches away from his eyes so he could scan every part of you.

“Tenko? Tenko Shimura? No fucking way, that guy’s a total tool. The hell is she doing hanging out with him?”

“No idea, but I mean I’ve seen her hanging out with some other girls in the general department, so it’s not like she only knows him. Why, you’re not getting all protective and hubby-like on her already, right?” Keigo says slyly, thoroughly drinking in the way Touya’s eyes darken and his jaw clenches at such a blasphemic notion. It was so much fun to rile him up and not have to deal with the aftermath of his brash actions.

“Fuck no. I just don’t want to be associated with a bitch who hangs around with pussies all day.”

“Mm, yeah, I don’t think I could fuck with you either if he became some kind of sister-wife to you.”

********

Winter started to seep into spring, the transition being made evident by the arrival of cherry blossom trees blooming across the campus. New clothes were bought, markers and highlighters upgraded to reflect the new bright outside weather, and the students themselves were giddy to see each other after their winter break.

You donned your white school uniform and fixed your tie in the mirror, opting to leave your hair down for the first day back.

Ping

Your phone’s screen lit up from the bed, and you grabbed it while slinging your bag over your shoulder.

Ten-ten: I’m outside, bring me a bagel if you can. Dad was being an asshole so I skipped breakfast

8:20: Gotcha, I’ll be out in 5

Thundering downstairs, you absentmindedly noted your parents’ absence as usual, your pre-made breakfast on the table (courtesy of the MIA mother and father).

Making a quick scan as to what you could quickly scarf down and what you could bring for Tenko, you decided to drink a glass of orange juice and bring a yogurt for yourself, as well as a large cinnamon bagel and a banana for him.

Opening your front door always brought in the multicolored rays of the horizon that was one of your sole motivations of waking up early. You weren’t disappointed as you stepped onto your porch and breathed in the crisp morning air, the sakura leaves falling softly onto the ground. Pink and purple stripes fanned across the sky, the trees gently swaying with the breeze. At the end of your driveway stood your lanky best friend, his sickly green and grey skin standing out almost offensively against the beautiful morning scene. His long, spindly fingers raised up and wiggled slightly in a poor imitation of a wave as he saw you coming towards him. His school uniform looked a tad bit too big on his thin, frail bones that were scarcely covered by stretched out, scratched-beyond-belief skin. His indicolite hair fell across his face in scraggly waves, effectively covering his vermillion, beady eyes.

You had never been so comforted by anyone else’s sight before.

As you reached him, you tossed him the large bagel and he helped your overbearing food load by taking the banana stem from your teeth and holding it in his own large hands, one pinky outstretched.

“You ready to go back?” You asked as you both began walking towards your school, which was a mere 15 minutes away from your house.

“Hell no,” he scoffed before tearing a large chunk out of the bagel. “Mmfh, thanks for the bagel-”

“-don’t talk with your mouth full-”

“-but nah, I’m not ready for Vlad King’s excessive droning about HC paperwork. ``Stuff's a bore honestly, I wanna take more actual work studies time out.”

“Oh yeah, you were saying earlier that your dad was gonna let you work with him at his business, right?”

“Yeah he did. But, to be honest, I don’t really know what's worse- Vlad’s lectures or my dads’.”

You swat his arm with a disapproving look as he laughs at your disdain.

“Ten, he loves you okay?” You begin softly as you furrow your brows and look at the ground in contemplation. “He just...doesn’t know how to show you. He’s just scared you’ll end up like your grandm-”

“Yeah okay, okay, I get it!” He yelps uncomfortably. Hearing any praise or defense for his father always put him in a tough spot since he didn’t want to accept the very hard fact that his dad did in fact love him-even if it was shown in weird ways.

The two of you eventually reached the grand school, the front blue and golden themes coming into view as you rounded the corner and walked through the gates of the campus.

It was a nice sight to see everyone again; kids younger and older than you laughing and shoving friends around, students sitting on the school walls, and teachers lounging around the classes with the occasional “Get to class!”

Tenko and you walk through the halls, navigating the way to your new classes and assessing each other’s schedules when you hear, “Hey, Y/N!”

You turn and see some of your other friends, Rumi Mirko, Moe Kamiji, and Yu Takeyama approaching you with grins on their faces.

Mirko waves her own peach colored schedule in her hand as she says, “Alright L/N, hand it over- I need to see which hunks you got in your classes.”

You smirk before giving your own witty reply. “Apart from you? I think the bar’s been set too high, hun.”

You playfully tug one of her ears and she squeals before chasing you in circles around your small group. Your jerky running causes Kamiji to bump into Tenko’s slender frame, and he lets out a little “oof!” before wincing and rubbing his sore arm.

“Ohmygod, I’m so sorry Tenko!”

“No worries, it’s cool.”

“Hey, Tenko, I wanna see your schedule for a sec’,” Takeyama says slyly, fluttering her lashes at him before snatching his paper. ��‘Gotta see if I got lucky this semester to finally have such a cutie like you in one of my classes,” She feigns a swoon at the poor boy, his face growing a violent shade of red as he commences his hemming and hawing.

“No she’s actually right though! I wanna see which classes I have to put in extra effort in not to fail if I’m ogling at this absolute sex god for the entirety of the period,” Mirko stops chasing you long enough to peer over Takeyama’s shoulder at his paper, and Tenko finally gives in his self restraint in a moment of vigorous neck-scratching relief.

You shake your head in disbelief before absentmindedly pulling his hand away from his suffering neck, and Tenko doesn’t make a move to stop you.

“Okay, enough already, leave this poor ‘sex god’ alone, your guys’s cleavage is gonna send him into cardiac arrest alone without the horny dialogue.” You say exasperatedly, and the victim himself flashes you a grateful look out of the corner of his eye.

All three girls give you both nasty grins before making a fake show of ripping open each other's shirt buttons and feeling their sides up with lewd moans.

Just to play along and to spare Tenko’s sputtering and massively sweating self the embarrassment, you cover his eyes with a hand and shoot the girls a dirty yet humorous look.

“Alright then, miss high and mighty, were you lucky enough to have your homeroom with Cupid over here?” Mirko asks, Kamiji and Takeyama nodding eagerly behind her.

“I was, actually. Did you get anyone worth the look?” You say, beaming at a very sweaty Tenko.

“No,” She pouted, her large ears dropping visibly. “But I really wish I could’ve gotten…” and she trails off as her focus narrows on something behind her, her nose twitching in excitement as her face morphs into a sultry expression. You, along with everyone else, turn to see what captured Mirko’s attention.

“Speak of the devil,” she mutters, nudging you and the other entranced girls.

And there he is in all his glory. One of the school’s most notorious playboys, Hawks himself-he spots your little reunion, and saunters his way past the sea of kids who part their way to make room for his highness. His blond hair glows in the early morning light, reflecting the golden and brown streaks that embed themselves through his locks. His teeth gleam a blinding white as he smiles at Mirko, coming up behind her (to her utter satisfaction).

But it's not Hawks that makes your heart pound.

It's his black haired buddy that you became betrothed to not too long ago that makes the butterflies in your stomach come alive again.

He has a bored, brooding look on his face as him and Hawks approach your group. His hands are in his pockets and his body language is so sluggish and lazy that you’d think he has a million other places to be at 8:45 in the morning. In fact, the only indication you get that he sees you is when his icy eyes flit over to yours or rather, your body, and he raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

I wonder if his family knows he dyes his hair at school? Or, when does he actually have the time to do that?

You snap your focus away from him, saving yourself the embarrassment of gawking at him before looking at the spectacle Hawks and Mirko were proudly showing off.

He circled his arms around her shoulders and neck, resting his head against her soft skin. She giggles and swats his other straying hand away from underneath her skirt while the rest of you roll your eyes in disgust as Mirko croons, “I didn’t hear back from you for a while, you had me worried for a moment there hot stuff.”

Hawks’s velvety words cut through the air like butter, his voice dropping a few octaves when he chuckles into her neck.

“Sorry about that babe, ‘was training pretty hard for some time, got distracted and all that. But you’re up for next weekend, yeah?”

It’s enough to placate the eager bunny and make you and Tenko gag internally for the meantime. “Mmm, only if you call me tonight,” she nuzzles into his hair. It was no secret (evidently) that the two were fucking, his smooth voice and sauve personality miraculously calming the eccentric and bold girl down. You didn’t come in contact with Hawks a lot, but you did unfortunately hear about his stamina from your girlfriend and see the way he undressed other girls in the hallways solely with his eyes enough to know that he wasn’t someone you wanted to spend your heart and time on.

Which is why you did a double take when you realized his honey colored orbs settled on you.

“L/N, right? How’ve you been?” His lids were lowered, the corners of his lips pulled up.

You stutter a moment before answering lamely, “Uh, I-I’ve been good, thanks.”

But it seems like he was more than overjoyed with your response from the way his smile widened and he lifted his head from Rumi’s neck to see you more clearly.

“Yeah? Make any new friends over the break? Maybe got yourself a little boyfriend?” Hawks turns his gaze ever so slightly to his left, and you follow his eyes as they also land on Touya.

You swallow thickly as you feel heat crawl up your neck to your face, your palms feeling slick as you register his meaning.

He knows.

And Tenko knows it too, from the way he side-eyes you concernedly, but staying silent (probably for his own sake, which was valid). Your “boyfriend” snarls quietly at Hawks, his balled fists turning a bright blue as they begin to heat up, much to the instigator’s amusement. Touya never makes eye contact with you throughout the whole exchange, though.

“Whaaatttt?” Kamiiji, Mirko, and Takeyama squeal obnoxiously, evidently intrigued at the notion of you being involved with a mystery man. “No fucking way, who is it?”

“Well-he- I mean, my parents kinda set us up…” You stammer mortified, caught between telling the truth or not. It was obvious Touya hadn’t told anyone apart from his closest friend, otherwise Rumi would have for sure found out through Hawks with Touya’s permission.

You wish you didn’t feel your heart drop a little at the thought of Touya so obviously wanting to keep your relationship with him under wraps. Were you really so embarrassing to be associated with?

But you’re saved from your internal battle when Tenko pipes up at his own expense.

Thank god.

“It doesn’t matter, it's not like they’re married or whatever-”

Yet. At least it's part of the truth.

“-come on Y/N, we should head to class,” Tenko looks at you meaningfully, and wanting to head out of the limelight before-

“Ahh, Shimura! Almost didn’t notice you there, buddy. You’re so quiet, it's easy to forget you’re there, y’know?” Hawks says gleefully as he throws an arm around the anxious boy’s boney shoulders and flashes a knowing smile at Touya, who mirrors Hawks’ saccharin expression.

Tenko refuses to rise to the backhanded comment, opting to nervously scratch his neck and you quickly pinch your fingers to avoid reaching out and pushing the ravaging hand away and nodding his head weakly.

Touya comes on his opposite side, also wrapping a patched arm around Tenko’s other side so that the poor victim is trapped between the two bloodthirsty boys. They start steering him away from the group, and you stand there, trying to decide to butt in or join the oblivious girls who start making their way to class, chattering amongst themselves.

Your dad’s words come back to you.

You need to start putting your fiance before other men, Y/N.

Fine.

This is going to be killing two birds with one stone anyways. You technically were going to be putting Touya first by letting him know what you did or didn’t like. The start of your rocky relationship had to have foundations on some form of do’s and don'ts for either of you, right?

And so, taking a deep breath, you march a couple meters up to the three boys, hearing sickening phrases of “grease-stain”, and “worthless little piece of shit, since when did you talk to girls?”, gently take an empty space of your friend’s shoulder that isn’t preoccupied by either tan or patched arm, and pull him around so that he’s facing you.

Unfortunately, you didn’t think to account for the other two who would no doubt keep an iron-grip on Tenko, so you’re left holding onto him while Touya and Hawks are staring disbelievingly and amused at you respectively.

“Tenko and I have to go to class,” you say quietly yet firmly as you ignore the spindly boy’s gaping at your audacity. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call him a grease-stain, or anything otherwise offensive.”

You continue, mustering the last of your bravery as you finally address your fiance, or whatever the hell he was to you at this moment.

“Look, Touya, it’s obvious Hawks knows, and I told Tenko too. I won’t tell anyone else, though, if you’re not comfortable with it. But I want you to please start respecting my friends, and in return me as well if we’re gonna be engaged.” It’s so hard to maintain eye contact with him while his blown-wide, furious blue oceans are burning holes into your face.

“You little bitch,” Touya starts on you to your utter dismay, but Hawks hold an arm out to prevent him from advancing on you any further. Even Tenko moves slightly in front of you to shield you from harm, a move that doesn’t go unnoticed, but rather, adds to Touya’s irate state.

In fact, if he didn’t realize, or didn't want to acknowledge your kinsmanship with Tenko, he certainly had to now.

Because not only does Tenko move in front of you, but the second Touya falters he takes the opportunity to propel you forward, covering almost 3 feet’s worth of a distance in one stride as he pushes you away from both men and down the hall, blindly following the signs to land the two of you in your designated homeroom. It all happens so suddenly with your surroundings flashing by you from Tenko’s sheer speed that you almost get whiplash as he continues to push you through the entrance of the class, and right into the first empty seat he sees towards the back of the room.

He pants slightly for a minute, staring down at your seated form intensely before sitting in the empty seat right in front of you. As he pulls in the chair, you finally speak in a mix of frustration and gratitude.

“Ten, I had it covered! You didn’t have to do that, Hawks had him too, it wasn’t like he was gonna-”

“No, you don’t understand Y/N. They’re messed up in the head, they would do something fucked up, and the worst part is they wouldn’t even care if it was in the open. Hell, you’re his-”

He whips his head around before whispering the rest to you.

“-his fiance, and look how he reacted! He’s dangerous Y/N, you need to be more careful-”

“Tenko, I’m not gonna be scared of the dude I’m engaged to,” you roll your eyes. “Okay sure, he’s a complete asshole to you and me, but he’s got too much to lose to actually do something real.”

But the rattled boy wasn’t convinced as he shook his head at your naivety. It wouldn’t do to tell you about all the times they used their quirk on him, having years of training before he did, essentially rendering him useless to fight back or stand up for himself. He didn’t think you’d believe him if he told you that merely a week ago they got in contact with some friends involved with the Yakuza to beat him into a pulp on his way home from school, simply because it made them laugh, it made them happy. And he certainly didn’t want you to have any fights with your beloved fiance because of the way they would push him down onto the gravel behind school after quirk training sessions, use their feathers and fire to burn and rip his clothes apart, and heat up the bigger rocks on the ground until they were burning coals as vermillion feathers aided in throwing the small missiles at him. He would come home in burns, bruises, and cuts that were easy to excuse from the similar treatment he got from his father.

That’s one of the only good things about his father, in hindsight. He built up Tenko’s immunity to these things, simply teaching him that these were the ways of life. You either eat, or get eaten.

So no, it wouldn’t do well to tell Y/N any of these things.

The bell rang, pulling you both from your back-and-forth arguing into a silent state along with the rest of the class. Your teacher, Vlad King, enters the room and almost fills up the doorway as he makes his way to the blackboard.

“Good morning class. I hope you all had a relaxing winter break-but not too relaxing, as I expect you all should’ve reviewed last semester’s notes.” He looks pointedly around the room, the class filled with a mixture of scoffs, laughter, and groans.

You and Tenko share an exhausted smile and simultaneously roll your eyes at your teacher’s academic reach.

“But, there is one announcement I’d like to make before we start today’s lesson. Due to some parents feeling as though their kids aren’t receiving enough variety in terms of quirk training and the business side, along with the logistics of the hero world, me and a few other teachers have agreed to switching out some students after a period of time to experience the other classes, and the materials that go along with them.”

“So, because of this change, we will be receiving some new students in our class today, as well as taking some out. But fear not! You will still have the same lunches as your friends and be able to see them in between classes.” He walks over to the door while talking, and you raise your eyebrows at Tenko. He shrugs as well, similarly clueless as to what your teacher meant.

But you needn’t be confused any longer, because when he turns the door handle and opens the door, a slew of students trickled in.

And much to your utter horror, Hawks and Touya saunter in as well.

Your eyes widen and instinctively you slouch in your seat trying to make yourself unnoticeable and smaller. You see Tenko stiffen as well, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

The scratching commences, too, and you quickly kick a leg out to meet the side of his chair to deter him from it.

From the front of the classroom, all the students that were switching into your room are lined up, ready to introduce themselves.

They all go, one by one, and as meaningless names float in and out of your attention, you risk a look at the two who had you practically shaking in your seat.

You wished you hadn’t.

Thing One and Thing Two were looking straight at you, your slouching proving to be unfruitful. Thing One was smugly looking at you, taking his sweet time for his eyes to note your hair, clothes, demeanor, and lingering in some places that were less than appropriate. Thing Two was glaring at you, gaze narrowed as his hands were stuffed in his pockets and by no doubt did you think he had taken your words from earlier with appreciation.

It was too early. You didn’t want to hear what they had to say about your little speech so soon, especially when you saw how Touya took your words as an insult rather than an attempt to understand you and improve your relationship with him.

Finally, it was their turn to introduce themselves to the class.

“Hey, guys. You can just call me Hawks, no need for formalities,” the blond shrugs casually, seeing Vald King’s unimpressed expression and giving him a charming smile. You hear a couple of girls fake screaming his name as he introduces himself, and Hawks flashes a round of winks and finger guns at his fangirls, much to your disgust.

“The name’s Dabi,” and your attention is turned to him once again. His voice is gruff, yet clear, and as charming of an aura Hawks gave off with the noises of various swoons, your fiance’s introduction prompts nothing but a deadly silent classroom, the occasional paper-turning and small murmurs echoing throughout the room.

Tenko turns slightly in his seat to you and gives you another meaningful look. You both knew what each other were thinking.

That’s right, he goes by the name Dabi here. I shouldn’t risk calling him by his real name around others, he might get upset at the informality.

The rest of the students chime in with their names, and finally your teacher claps his hands, gathering your attention back to him.

“Alright everyone, now that you all know the new students, say goodbye to your transitioning classmates and wish them luck in their new classes. Hajime, Setsuna, Tenko, and Kai, please pack your belongings and report to class 3-A.”

You whip your head around in horror at Tenko who has gone stock still. The boy behind you, Setsuna, starts packing his things and grumbling under his breath. Tenko slowly begins to put his binders and pencils in his bag, not having the courage to look at your helpless expression.

You feel like you were being thrown to the dogs, a piece of meat ready to be torn apart and ripped to shreds.

Vlad King notices Tenko’s dawdling, and barks out “Hurry it up Shimura, we don’t have all day and these students need seats!”

At this, both Hawks and Dabi’s heads turn to the both of you, and if they hadn’t noticed the disposition of you both, they damn well did now. You see Dabi’s eyes trail to something behind you and the corners of his mouth quirk up a bit.

Setsuna gets up from his seat behind yours, and passes to the front of the class along with the rest of the stragglers.

Oh, fuck. Please don’t let them sit here, please please ple-

But it seems that you had previous karma to atone for, because the moment you start praying, both boys start making their way towards you. You shrink even lower in your seat, wishing desperately that you had brought a hoodie to wear to at least cover your face from this torture.

It was only when Tenko finally packed his things and stood up at the side of his seat in front of you that Dabi and Hawks stopped stalking towards the seats that sandwiched you. He blocks their path and predatory looks, giving you a second’s reprieve of sheer panic. There is a tense moment where Dabi stands directly in front of Tenko, sizing him up and looking him down. You vaguely hear Ten murmur something to him, and Dabi lets out a loud scoff, elbowing the thin boy out of his way.

You half rise out of your seat, naturally wanting to intervene as Tenko winces and grips his wounded side, but he quickly looks over his shoulder and shakes his head minutely, as if warning you to stay put. In the midst of you standing up however, Dabi moves forward, leaving you face to face with him.

For the second time that day, you were in very close proximity to him, much to your discomfort. His blue eyes scorch your soul, much like the small blue flames emitting from the sides of his forearms. He narrows his gaze at you and stares at you until you relent and slowly sit back down. You can feel his eyes still on your form as he halfway circles around you and sits in the empty seat behind you. Hawks watches all of this in great amusement, and winks at you as he usurps Tenko’s seat in front of you.

That’s just fucking great.

Your fate is sealed as you look at the front of the room and watch Tenko give you a worried look as he’s ushered outside in the wave of kids exiting the room. The door slams shut as Vlad King closes it behind him, and the class is noticeably quieter as the lesson starts, some boring shit about submitting paperwork on time in an office setting and how to deal with setbacks.

You try to focus as much as you can, but it's hard to ignore the way the back of your desk leg is being repeatedly slammed against any time Vlad King raises his voice, so the sound is muted to everyone but you. You grit your teeth and grip your pencil harder, almost breaking the lead when almost two minutes later you smell singed hair.

And singed hair it was, all yours in fact as you frantically gather your hair in your hands and see burnt stands breaking off in your trembling fingers. In complete fury now, you whip around and harshly whisper, “Can you please stop-”

“You got some fuckin’ nerve, you know that? Hangin’ out with that freak, and then defending him-especially in front of me. As if that’s not bad enough, you got the balls to ignore me when you owe me an apology.”

You gape at him and even let out a little disbelieving laugh at his words. He said you had some nerve when he’s the one asking for an apology?

“Apologize for what, exactly? Stopping you from harassing Tenko and calling him offensive names?”

His eyes widen mockingly, his eyebrows raised as the staples around his mouth tremble in his effort to not burst out laughing at your indignation.

“I’m not harassing him. He should be glad we’re even approaching him, we’re like the closest things to friends he has. Why do you think he only hangs with you? It’s ‘cause you're the only braindead idiot in this school who doesn’t realize what a creep he is. And as for the ‘offensive names’, it can’t be offensive if it's true. He is a f-”

Your ears start ringing as you feel like he’s pushing you past your breaking point. You can’t bear to hear any more slander against one of your closest friends, but as you try to whip around to face the front Dabi quickly catches onto one of your wrists, preventing you from turning away from him any more. His staples holding his scarred sin together dig into your flesh, and you quietly whimper in pain as you try to wrench your hand free.

He simply tightens his grip and jerks you forward, causing you to practically fall out of your seat as he leans in close.

“Don’t try to move away from me, Y/N. You were practically thrown at me, and that means you’ll do whatever the fuck I want, when I want.”

You look up at him with glassy eyes, hair messily covering your face from the rough treatment. He looks almost thoughtful, the closest thing to a soft emotion you’ve seen from him yet as he brushes the hair from out of your face and behind your ear.

“And right now, your fiance wants you to stop hanging out with Shimura. Permanently.”

**********

It’s less of a school bell and more like a trumpet from heaven when the indication of the class ending rings throughout the school. You had already packed your bag almost 10 minutes before the bell rang, not wanting to waste a second of the opportunity to make a mad dash away from Dabi.

But you needn’t worry, because while you were practically sprinting down the halls looking for Tenko’s class, Dabi and Hawks were leisurely taking their sweet time packing up their bags, which were a little too light for anything deemed studious.

Hawks chuckles after your form stumbled out of the classroom. “What’s gotten into her? Scared her off already?”

“Something like that,” Dabi scoffs humourlessly. “ I just told her to stop fuckin’ around with Shimura.”

“Man, and here I thought we were gonna take it easy on her for her first day.” Hawks tuts, shaking his head mockingly so that his blond locks fall handsomely around his face. “You’re breaking her in like a dog, Dabi.”

But Dabi could care less about the timing of your inevitable breaking. He shoulders his bag and runs a hand through his hair, careful enough not to dislodge the black dye.

They both walk out of the room to the next class, Hawks sending random girls an appreciative up-down look that lead to eruptions of teasing giggles along the halls. “Regardless of how or when I break her-which, by the way, is gonna happen hard ‘cause there’s no fuckin’ way I’m putting up with her bitchy attitude-I’m not gonna let that walking mistake hang out with her anymore. He’s dead weight to anyone, and it’s so embarrassing to see how big of a boner he gets when she looks at him.”

“That's the spirit,” Hawks clapped him on the back, steering him around the corner to their next class.

“By the way man, you know we have lunch with her too, right?”

**********

“And then he burned my hair!” You cry indignantly, folding your arms and leaning against the wall next to Tenko who was waiting in line for mediocre cafeteria food.

“See? I told you, he’s dangerous. Him and Hawks both have a messed up sense of humor, and they have no shame in it either. You need to be more careful around them Y/N, don’t piss Dabi off especially, please.” He murmurs, looking at you through his bluish white bangs. You pick up a banana and plop it onto his green tray, causing him to whine about ‘NPC’s poisoning the crappy facility food’. Whatever that meant.

“It’s healthy, you need it,” you shoot him a disapproving glare and pointedly lift one of his free spindly arms, gesturing to the lack of meat on his skin.

“Okay mom,” he sneers as you pluck a Twinkie from his tray and transfer it to yours with an innocent smile as you do so.

You both reach the end of the line and you wait as Tenko checks out. Looking around, it seems like the cafeteria is filled, so you elect to eat outside on one of the benches.

“But, anyways,” you continue your conversation from earlier, “is that how they always are? How do you deal with it?”

“Well, usually if you try to stay out of their way and just do as they do, both of ‘em will leave you alone.” He says uncomfortably, opening the courtyard doors for you with nine fingers as you quickly hold his tray to minimize the effort.

“I usually try to think of them as the boss battle. If you avoid them, you’ll have a peaceful day. But if you try picking a fight with them, then you’ll take massive damage.” He shudders as flashbacks of burning rocks pelting his skin and ripped clothes enter his vision.

You scan the area looking for a quiet place to sit among the pink ground littered with cherry blossom petals, and find relief when you see Rumi, Takeyama and Kamiji scattered around a bench on the farthest side of the building. You call out for them and all three of them simultaneously turn and wave excitedly at you to come over.

The grass feels lush and soft under your feet as the sakura petals swirl around you both as you cross the school grounds. You got lucky eating outside with this weather, and you internally want to make it a habit to come outside if the skies stay clear and blue like today’s.

“Hey you two! Lucky you both are in our lunches too, huh?” Rumi smiles wide as Takeyama tosses you a cherry Ramune. Kamiji scooches over on top of the wooden table to make room for you to sit as Tenko takes a place on the seat itself.

“Yeah, we didn’t have you all last year so I’m glad your schedules coincide with ours. How was class?” You press down on the little ball at the top of your Ramune lid and watch as it drops and fizzles in the substance. Tenko eyes it with interest, so you pass it his way and watch amusedly as he snaps open the top and practically chugs the whole thing in one go, precariously holding a finger out while he does so.

“Ugh, don’t get me started. Midnight’s tits were bouncing in my face the whole time, I couldn’t keep my eyes on my paper.” Takeyama swats Rumi’s white ears as Kamiji bursts out laughing.

“God, you’re so vile. But I can’t lie, she definitely improved her fit from last year.” Yuu says with a snort.

“She’s such a badass, I’d totally ask her hand in marriage if I wasn’t getting saddled with-” But you freeze mid-sentence, face heating up as you catch your mistake.

Tenko chokes on the drink, the girls squealing in disgust as Ramune spews out of his nostrils. You stammer, trying to cover up your tracks but there’s no need to as the focal point of the conversation turns to something behind you.

“Oh my god, what are they doing here?” Kamiji whispers in awe.

You whip your head around, and for the third time that day, your heart sinks to your ass.

**********

“Where is she, anyways? I don’t see her in here,” Dabi tries to ask disinterestedly as he casually sweeps his eyes around the crowded hall.

“Ahhh, the pining begins, I see. Don’t worry, Rumi has the same lunch with us, so my best guess is she’s with her.” Hawks chomps on a piece of chicken, somehow managing not to spill any teriyaki sauce on his jacket.

“Shut up birdbrain, I’m not pining. I just wanna make sure she’s not embarrassing me any more than she already has,” Dabi drones, cuffing the blond upside his head.

“Question: how is she embarrassing you if no one knows you two are engaged?” His red wings flutter with glee as he catches Dabi giving him a dark look, opting not to answer.

“You’re not answering my ques-tion”, Hawks sings, thoroughly basking in the catching Dabi’s ulterior motives.

“And I’m not gonna answer either. Just tell me where she sits, idiot.” Dabi snaps, getting antsier by the second.

“Alright, alright, cool your head, matchstick. Rumi usually sits outside, so let’s check there. But hurry up ‘cause I’m hungry” Hawks whines as they make their way to the outside doors.

They too are greeted with the same colors of pink sakura and bright well-kept grass, along with clear blue skies. But all Dabi sees is red when his gaze finally looks around and sees you with your friends...including Tenko Shimura.

Hawks sees you too, and whistles as he glances back at Dabi’s face. If looks could kill, you’d be a burning pile of ash right now.

“I swear to fucking god, I’m gonna kill them both.” Dabi growls as he begins to stalk towards your group. And of course, his friend joins in too, if not to just watch the episode that will unfold, but rather to actually prevent Dabi from causing any lasting damage...at least, on school property, that is.

At the sound of your animated laughter and voice, the inky black mess of hair snaps up.

He doesn’t like the way his heart clenches when the sight of you registers.

Your laugh is a mix of soft giggles that crescendos into crazed wheezes that are accompanied by breathless snorts.

It sounds so fucking ugly and obnoxious.

He wants to hear more of it.

Your hands wave around wildly as you animate your story with various gestures, sometimes throwing your arms out in the air and then bringing them close together to emphasize something else.

Who the hell uses hand gestures?

What do your hands feel like? Are they soft, or rough? Are they bigger or smaller than his?

What would they feel like if they caressed his skin? If they slapped him?

Dabi is 20 feet away, and you still haven’t noticed him stalking towards you yet.

Your head is thrown back now, hair shaking as you screech with laughter, your face scrunched up in laughter.

He should’ve burned the rest of your hair, too.

What would the material feel like through his fingers if he yanked the strands? If he caressed them slowly, in the dark?

Why the fuck am I thinking about that?

Your laughter has stopped now, the air eerily quiet. Dabi makes straight eye contact with you as he sees you've finally noticed him, as he watches Rumi whisper something to the group.

He sees Tenko look panic-stricken, fumbling around his lunch to pack up and no doubt get the hell out of there.

But not you, though.

You just stare at him like he’s a wild animal, like you don’t know why he’s coming towards you so fast and with such purpose.

He’s glad your eyes are on him. Property should know who it’s attention should be on, and who to cater to.

He just wishes your eyes weren’t filled with so much fear. It’s making his heart squeeze and it feels weird. He doesn’t like it.

“Hey Rumi. Yuu, Moe, how are you ladies doing?” He hears Hawk’s smooth voice flow into the air and join in with the falling of the soft tree petals as well.

“Hey Hawks,” they drawl, no doubt excited to be blessed with his presence.

Only you and Tenko stay quiet, the latter looking uncomfortably at his feet while you simply stare at Dabi.

“I see you ladies are all enjoying the weather tod-”

“-What the fuck are you doing here?” Dabi rudely interrupts the would-be smooth transition into conversation, but at the moment he doesn't care. He wants to know why the hell you so obviously ignored what he said earlier, and where the fuck you found the balls to blatanlty piss him off.

But you stay silent, and stare at him further, eyes widening marginally like a deer in headlights.

His heavy presence brings the feeling of death, the onslaught of dread, and it invades the group’s senses like the plague. His flashing arctic eyes scream murder, his balled hands reflect nothing but danger, and his set-mouth indicates that anything that comes out of it will end in vicious tears and a broken body.

It contrasts so weirdly with his counterpart, who has a kilowatt smile that stretches from one ear to the other, his teeth gleaming so blindingly similar to the sun that it was another reason you couldn’t keep eye contact with him for too long. His hands were stuffed in his jacket pockets, showing no sign of lashing out and causing strife. The yellow sky rays bounced off his back, making him glow with heavenly golden light like an angel, and his eyes....oh lord, his honey colored hues swam with mischief; untold secrets ladeled into his ears in the dead of the night when he would lie side to side with multiple women of all shapes, colors, and sizes.

But either way, regardless of the mismatched auras of the two, they both brought chaos and hell in their own ways, subtle or not.

“Uhhh, ladies, why don’t I treat you to some of the school’s finest soba?” Hawks chuckles and scratches the back of his head before offering a hand to Rumi. “It seems like Dabi here needs to have a conversation with Y/N in private.”

Rumi takes his hand and offers her own to Kamiji and Takeyama, who all pull each other up and look at you curiously. They’re smart enough not to ask openly, though. No sense in making things more awkward than they already are.

Tenko tries to subtly get up as well, but is stopped when Dabi snarls, “You stay there. You and I are gonna have a conversation as well, fucktard.” He looks directly at you as he hurls the insult at the gangly boy, who flinches as if the words were knives.

You nap out of your horrified reverie.

“Uhhh, well, we’ll see you around, I guess.” Kamiji calls from over her shoulder at you, her face sympathetic as Hawks’s arm circles around her shoulders and pulls her closer, whispering something in her ear that makes her blush.

“Tenko, you can leave. Whatever patchwork here has to say has nothing to do with you. It’s between us, as my fiance.” You deadpan and return his ice-cold stare.

The poor boy looks between his tormentor and saviour, conflicted as to what he should do. While Dabi’s arms and legs are starting to alight, you remain calm as ever perched on the table as if the petals littered on the ground weren’t silently catching fire.

“If you get off the ground, I promise you won’t leave here with all your limbs intact.” The flame user says lowly, his voice catching on the gravely rasp of his threatening words.

“Tenko. Please leave.” You say with finality, crossing your arms.

A tense moment passes between all three of you, Tenko sweating bullets. He slowly starts to build his limbs up to a stand, his height matching Dabi’s yet somehow still cowering over the striking look he was receiving from him. He hesitates for a moment before sticking a cautious leg out towards where the other four departed people went, as if he were testing the waters.

Dabi copies you and merely stares him down.

His expression is unreadable as Tenko moves another leg out, and another as his body starts functioning properly and jerkily walks away from the two of you. Miraculously, Dabi is letting him, not seeming too keen on fulfilling his past promise of detaching his anatomy in favor of getting to you now.

And then there was one.

You both look away from Tenko’s disappearing figure and finally at each other.

You still don’t say anything.

He starts slowly circling around the table towards you, keeping his malicious eyes on you and your body the whole time. But regardless of the feeling of dread that courses through your veins as he draws nearer, you refuse to kowtow to this overgrown-spoiled-rotten eldest child. He was just another man, another blob of superior prejudice that was in your way of being happy in your career and in your life in general.

One more step and he’s finally in your face now, a mere foott away from your sitting form. Your eye level is with his chest as he stands before you, tilting his head as his eyes rake your figure up and down. Your skin crawls and you look away, not wanting to react to his offensive gaze when he suddenly lurches forward. You can’t help as your indifferent demeanor cracks as you flinch when both his hands settle on your knees.

He leans down, a few inches away from you when he speaks.

“Are you deaf as well as stupid, you quirkless cunt?” He breathes into your face. His hands warm up ever so slightly on your knees, and you can’t help but think with a flash of paranoia how easily and quietly he burned your precious hair not even two hours ago.

You try to placate him by talking calmly, a brutal contrast in the way your heart was pounding in your tightening chest.

“I don’t know what you mean, Touya. If you’re upset about something, we can talk about it without you trying to intimidate me.” Placing your hands on his atop your knees, you gently attempt to move him off but only succeed in him gripping you tighter. He wrenches your knees apart and you gasp as he slides himself in between your legs.

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean. Don’t play coy with me, I told you clearly not to hang around with that greasy freak. Or do I need to give you a permanent reminder, huh?”

He grasps your chin and shakes your head roughly as he presses himself further into you, hips gently rocking back and forth into the confines of your skirt.

It’s hard to keep up a calm facade when his clothed erection is feeling up the outline of your panties.

You release a frustrated cry and try to buck him off of you, but that only ends up pushing even further against him, much to your displeasure.

“Fucking let go! Let go of me you disgusting asshole!” Punching and kicking does absolutely nothing to deter him, he only laughs at your pathetic defense as he grabs a stray hand in its mission to slap him square across the face and slams it down behind you on the table. He fails to stop the other hand though, as it ducks from underneath his chin and gives him a mean uppercut.

He takes it maddeningly gracefully, though, as he finally catches the offensive hand and also smashes it down on the wood, emitting a pained wail from you.

Both of you pant for a couple of seconds, tears of pain and anger threatening to spill over your lashes and reflex tears in his amused ones.

“Do I have your attention now? Or do you want me to bruise your legs too?” He slides closer to your ear and his hot breath tickles your lobe as he whispers darkly, “I got a couple ideas in mind on how I can do that.”

Your eyes widen and you try to jerk violently out of his hold. The patched hands holding onto your wrists heat up significantly, and you wail as your skin simmers and bubbles.

“Please stop, Touya. It hurts,” you sob as he moves back to your face again, his body hovering your overs as he leans in further and hips stilling in their perverse movements, only pressing against your clothed mound at a stand-still now.

“You didn’t answer me. Why the fuck,” his cooled palms flared back to life again and you painstakingly stifle a whimper, “are you hanging out with Shimura again?”

“I-I was just having lunch with him! It wasn’t like we were meeting up outside of school or anything,” you plead with him, completely abandoning your passive facade. At the end of the day, you were quirkless and he wasn’t. Which meant you weren’t stupid or cowardly, but you were just human- you didn’t want to piss him off further by givng shitty answers and then getting burned.

You try shifting to evade the not-so-subtle bulge in his pants but he holds you steadfast. He leers at you, and you turn your head to avoid the manic expression on his face. It was just your bad luck that no one else was around, the rest of the students and teachers heading back inside for their next class.

“Aww what, you’ll take Skin ‘n’ Bones’ dick, but you can’t handle a little teasing from mine? Do I scare you that bad, princess?”

Your bottom lip quivers as you bear his filthy words, your seared hands shaking in pathetic attempts to quiet any pained noise.

He moves his head in such a way that his tilted frame comes a few millimeters away from your trembling smooth lips, and you look up at him with scrunched eyebrows in a plea for mercy.

“Or, has little miss perfect never had a cock before? Never taken a thick, pierced dick up her tight little virgin pussy?” He groans as he rubs his erection up and down your mound, your skirt shifted in the tussle in such a way that it offers him a snatch of open skin that he takes with relish.

You gasp and bite your lip and he thrusts gently into you, looking at your fearful face for the truth.

“Stop-stop being gross Touya. I haven’t done anything like that with him, not that you should care who I fuck with. And for the record, like I said before, I was just having lunch with my friends, not having a goddamn date with any of them, including Tenko. And I don’t know who you think you are telling me who I can or can’t hang out with,” you try to sneer as you finally wrench a hand away from his grip and manage to push him back some with a shaky arm against his toned shoulder.

“We’re not married yet, and Tenko has never done anything perverted or twisted like you that I would have to stay away from him. In fact, if he were my fiance then he’d act like a real one, tenfold than you ever could.”

You don’t realize how big of a mistake you made when Dabi stills his pressing hips and releases your other wrist, which you snatch in your other hand and cradle the bright red flesh.

He backs away a step or two, to your utter astonishment. He looks at you blankly and cocks his head at your unsure self. You have no idea what you said that could have caused such a change in demeanor, weren’t you just dishing back at him what he was giving you?

“You really think he’s that great, huh? Honestly, I shouldn’t even be surprised you do, a quirkless uptight bitch like you goes perfectly with that waste of space.”

“He’s not-” you begin to argue but are cut off when he spins on the heel of his black combat boot and starts walking away from you, only to call out over his shoulder, “If that’s the case sweetheart, I can’t wait for you to see how great and perfect he looks when his skin is burnt to a crisp and his body’s nothing more than ash and soot.”

The blood drains from your face as you realize what you’ve done. You’ve made the target on Tenko’s back even bigger by trying to defend him. There’s no doubt now that if he was trying to evade Dabi and Hawks’ brutal treatment, they’d never let him breathe in peace now.

You’d lose your best friend, and he’d never forgive you.

Pride be damned.

“Wait!” you cry out as you stumble off shaking legs and chase after him. His arms are thrown behind his back in an easy stretch, the movement making his stapled and scarred limbs seem even more menacing than ever before.

“Touya, please, don’t hurt him, he didn’t do anything to you!”

But he clicks his tongue and continues to stroll past you in the same direction your group had fled mere minutes before.

“Too late dollface, I can’t have my little fiance bitch thinking some fuckwad is better than me, can I?” He pouts and gives you an innocent mocking smile, knowing you were breaking slowly at each word that came out of his mouth.

“You should be glad I’m giving him any sort of attention anyways, like I said before he’s a nobody-he never uses his quirk anyways, he might as well be called a quirkless little fuck just like you! Hah! No wonder you two get along so well!”

Tripping over your own feet, you try to keep up with his long strides and sway his mission to either kill Tenko or make his life even more hell than it was before.

“No, no! That’s not true, please, Touya, he’s already so miserable, please leave him alone, I’ll do anything!” You practically shriek as you both finally reach the school doors and his hand grasps the handle.

But he stops. Miraculously, he holds the door handle without turning it, and looks demeaningly at you.

You try hard not to shrink back too much when he leans to your eye level, his hands on his knees as he says sickeningly sweetly, “Anything? You’ll do anything to save that sorry excuse of a bastard? Anything to make me not burn his ass down to hell?”

It's hard to mask the loud gulp you make, and his grin stretches so wide his staples along the corners of his mouth move along as well.

“Y-yes, anything. Please just stop hurting with him or messing with him at all. He’s not the one who pissed you off, I am.” You admit your defeat and hang your head low, peeking up at him between your lashes to judge his reaction.

His cerulean eyes scrutinize you, his nose lifted in the air as he mockingly taps his chin in fake thought.

“Hmm...well, I suppose you could start by not eating lunch with him in the first place. I don’t know how you stomach anything anyways, he reeks of a decaying body.” He smirks, but you dig your nails into your palms so as to not rise to the bait.

Anything.

You need to start putting your fiance before other men, Y/N.

After a moment of silence that ensured you really weren’t going to lash out at him, he continues, this time stepping forward until he has you backed up into the adjacent brick wall in the little hidden alley besides the doors.

“And,” his saccharine words penetrate your dizzy head as his arm stretches out towards you, and for the third time that day you were essentially pinned verbally and physically as his hand toys with the hem of your collar, “from now on you’ll be eating with me and Hawks too if he’s around. You’re also gonna stop being such a teasing little prude and let me touch any part of you without backing away or saying any bitchy comments. It’s your duty as a good little wife anyways, right Y/N?”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you feel one hand make its way to circle around your neck in a snug noose and the other slip up your shirt, fingers punctuated with cold little stitches spreading across the expanse of your stomach, causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin.

“Come on,” He whispers in his gravelly voice, leaning into the crook of your neck, “where’s that little attitude now, huh?”

For Tenko. This is all only for Tenko.

“Okay Touya. I’ll do it. Just...please, please give him a break.” You muster up the last of your courage to face him, and you finally feel a single tear treacherously escape the confines of your eye and slide down your face. You feel humiliated, having put up such false pretenses of being cool, calm and collected when he first approached you and now...now you were an emotional mess. In just a few sentences and unwanted physical contact, he had you right where he wanted.

And the worst part was, you both knew you couldn’t even tell anyone. If you told Tenko, he’d immediately reprimand you and try to brave it by hanging out with you just so you didn’t have to endure the plight he himself was always in. You couldn’t confide in any of your girlfriends, no doubt Hawks would somehow spin it with his honeyed words to make you seem like the crazy, overreacting one. Your parents were a no-go either, having been telling you from the start that they weren’t to hear any criticism of their perfect, levelheaded future son-in-law.

You wonder how your parents would feel about their dear son-in-law licking the tears off your flushed cheeks with a condescending chuckle.

“Oh come on doll, having lunch with me isn’t so bad now, is it?” He cooes at you with faux sympathy. He does nothing to hide the twitching muscle in his jaw that prevents him from bursting out laughing when you furiously brush the tears and his saliva off your face.

No, I don’t want to have lunch with you, you sick freak. I want to see my friends and not feel my heart pounding up my throat when I’m with you.

“No, it’s not bad,” you whisper dejectedly, hanging your head and waiting for his next move.

“Attagirl,” he says lowly, one finger ghosting over the waistband of your pants before retreating out of your shirt and to his side. The other hand wrapped around your neck squeezes once, relishing in your panicked gasp and frantic scrabbling at the back of his hand before also coming down.

He finally deems your disheveled state a good enough reason to stop tormenting you, and he backs away with a little smile on his face that does nothing to calm your nerves.

Turning the corner and opening the doors, he doesn’t look at your pathetic shaking body sliding down the wall when he says, “I’d get to class if I were you. Wouldn’t want to get in trouble for hanging out with people you shouldn't be with in the first place.

Something tells you he’s not referring to himself as the doors bang shut.

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

8 New Messages

Rumi: Hey girl, you okay? Dabi seemed kinda off, I wanted to ask you what happened but I figured you two needed space and Hawks said not to bother you abt it:/ Did you guys get into a fight?

Yuu: Ummm since when did you and Dabi talk? And since when did he get mad at you? Text back ASAP!!!

Moe: If you’re still alive, you def owe us an explanation, hello? What did that absolute hunk want from you? I didn’t even know you two knew each other!

Ten-ten: Y/N please text me back as soon as possible

Ten-ten: Are you okay? Did he hurt you?

Ten-ten: What did he even want from you?

Ten-ten: If you’re mad that I left, I’m so sorry, I just thought me being there wouldn’t be much help to you

Ten-ten: Please tell me you’re okay

2:10: I’m fine, just walk around the back and meet me by the gate when the bell rings. Keep your head down, too.

**********

Dabi doesn’t feel any shame jerking off in the bathroom.

Hawks doesn’t feel embarrassed either, listening through Dabi’s grunts and shaky breaths as he recounts the entirety of what happened between you and him after the group left, babes hanging off Hawks’ arms.

“So, what, you two just boned and you told Shimura to piss off? That’s what got your dick hard as a diamond?” Hawks chuckles, folding his arms and leaning against the white tile wall.

“Yeah,” Dabi grunts as his hand works vigorously up his shaft, his piercings clinking harmoniously at his ministrations, “But fuck, man, she felt so soft and hot down there. Her stomach was so smooth too, I couldn't keep my hands to mys-ahh-self.” He groans as he climaxes, watching his precious seed erupt and drop into the toilet below him. What a waste.

He wishes it went into your mouth instead.

“Her stomach?” Hawks’s avian eyes practically bulge out of his head as he roars with laughter, dodging weak blue flames aimed straight at his hair. “God, you sound like a virgin, man. Who the fuck gets turned on by a stomach?”

“Shut the hell up you overgrown chicken. I don’t fucking know, okay? She just- argh, I don’t know, when I saw her from a distance I didn’t really think much of her but when I got all close up with her I felt like I was going crazy. I mean, my body started heating up more than normal and I just wanted to touch her.”

The blond was quiet, continuing to listen to his friend’s rant as Dabi washed his hands and inspected his spiky hair in the dirty mirror.

“And her attitude? My god, hearing every bitchy word come out of her mouth was worth the look on her face when I held her down. Priceless,” he chuckles, shaking his head as he begins tightening a loose stitch under his eyebag.

“She smelled pretty fuckin’ good too, maybe thats what got me going in the first place. I just wanted to be closer to her, regardless of how she saw me. It was just so satisfying seeing her break down, and all because of me, yknow?”

He finally finishes checking his reflection and picks up his bag from the ground, Hawks following pursuit as they make their way outside the bathroom. They were currently skipping their last class, Quirk Training because they could actually afford to. Their teacher knew that both of them surprisingly had the highest grades in the class and continuously kicked every other student into the dust, the rest of their peers not having the right quirks to even hope to make it to the two delinquent’s level of strength and skill. It wouldn’t hurt to skip a few times, they would just pick up right where they left off, pummeling every other kid aside until they made their way to the top again.

Plus, with all the testosterone raging through Dabi’s blood after lunch, he decided it would be better to take all the energy out in more relieving ways in the bathroom rather than using the adrenaline to accidentally blast some poor chump’s face off in the heat of the moment, pun intended.

Not that he would mind, don’t get him wrong. It would be pretty funny seeing the look of horror on everyone’s face when the smell of a burning body hit their nostrils. But it wasn’t worth a suspension, or worse, an earful from his dad.

“Oh, and by the way, she’s gonna have lunch with us from now on. I told her if she didn’t want me beating Shimura into a pulp she was gonna stop eating with him and come join us instead.”

At this, Hawks gives Dabi a smirk and says dryly, “How romantic of you. If you wanted her to spoon feed and baby you at lunch so you could have a boner the entire period, you should’ve just told her straight up.”

Dabi opens his mouth to argue with half of his statement before he’s interrupted.

“Where is Shimura by the way? Did you see him leave the locker room? Training’s done, he should be out any minute now, why don’t we pay him a little visit and relay the same message you gave your little bitch to him as well?”

Both boys smirk at each other as they make their way down to the locker rooms. Unfortunately for Tenko and fortunately for the devious duo , all three of them shared the same last class of Quirk Training. The frail, quiet boy tried his best to stay out of their way, but he might as well have had a sign up on his head that said MAKE MY LIFE HELL, PLEASE from the way he scratched himself raw, earning occasional disgusted looks from girls and snickers from a majority of the guys. His hair was almost always unkempt and in his face, prompting Dabi to yank his overgrown bangs up and out of his face as he snarled and spat venom into his victim’s wincing expression. When they sparred, Dabi held absolutely nothing back as he relished in the difference in their fighting styles: Tenko with close combat techniques and Dabi excelling in long distance. It was a recipe for disaster on Tenko’s side, and almost a cruel joke to the flame user as he easily sent wave after wave of burning hot hellfire towards the yelping boy. It came to a point where Dabi would openly and very loudly question why Tenko would even try, why he would even attend this class when he was beaten in under a minute-not nearly enough time to utilize his quirk.

Their teacher would scold Dabi very lightly, but the damage was done and doubt was already planted into everyone’s mind as the seeds of disdain germinated and grew into ponderings of, has he ever beaten anyone before? He’s always out of the ring so fast, I didn’t even understand what his quirk was. Is he failing, how is he even passing this class?

Only you were the one who knew it was his lifelong dream of working in the Rescue and Search unit, his quirk of decaying proving to be so deadly and harmful that he never had the courage to use it against anyone, no matter how bad they had it out for him. He could never live with himself if he ever caused anyone permanent damage that could end up in paralyzation, or worse.

But that was the difference between poor Tenko and Dabi. Only one of them acted out in an eat or be eaten way.

Hawks was more subtle in his torment, having less of a grudge towards the sulking grey mass of limbs. Sure, it was amusing watching him squirm and flinch and hear him plead raspingly to move your feathers, please, they’re covering my nose I can’t bREATHE I CAN’T BREATHE PLEASE I’LL DIE-

But unlike Dabi, he didn’t get that big of a high from drawing blood and whimpering. That was all for fun and jokes to indulge in Dabi’s selfish and ruthless desires, sure, but the real rush he got was from the overall power imbalance from everyone else he received. It was knowing that he was at the top of the food chain, that no one could surpass him, even his brooding patchwork friend who he considered to be beside him if anything, but not above him in any sense. Tenko was just another cog in the grand machine that reinforced that idea every time he wilted and withered under Hawks’ sickeningly sweet, fake smile.

You can’t blame him, either. He never originally asked for any of the attention the school practically spoon-fed him with when he was younger. No, he didn’t seek out any of the multitudes of guys that asked him to hang out every other weekend at the beach or park, and he was always indifferent to the girls begging him to spend the night and exchange numbers on the regular. They were all idiots anyways, what did they know? Sex, fame, money, drugs, all that bullshit that every young adult craves. He was better than that, he had a goal, he had ulterior motives, but he soon began to realize that the mind-numbingly brain dead people who circled him like their god could very well improve his chances of achieving said goal.

And so Hawks began to painstakingly take time out to meet some tools dudes at the beach or catch a movie with them, he started opening up to sluts and bimbos girls via their legs more often and eventually he became a name revered around school, a reputation told and passed around the halls in whispers that traveled through notes and texts exchanged throughout classes.

It just so happened to be in his luck that he was able to one day put a face to another name that floated through the halls in his passing classes: Dabi.

They had been paired up to sparr, both sets of ears alert and open when their teacher read aloud each other’s quirks. Fire and feathers, huh? What a joke.

At least, that's what the both of them thought about each other until they actually started fighting.

Columns of cobalt flames rained above and around Hawks, and he was surrounded mere seconds after the match started. But nevertheless, his feathers detected a breeze from an open air pocket through the wall of fire, and he used his great wings to propel him through the slim opening to safety.

That was the first time Dabi had ever been bested by anyone before, having every single one of his limbs pinned down by multiple heavy feathers tearing through his clothes, and similarly, it was the first time Hawks had even been surrounded so quickly by anyone else either.

Thus was the start of their begrudging comradeship, which quickly evolved into something akin to a friendship when less training commenced and more grunted words and short phrases thrown to each other formed into gruff sentences, and bitter rants about shitty parents, being surrounded by painfully stupid peers, and how everyone else but them two saw the world for what it really was: a playground where they could topple everyone else down and somehow still manage to win those same hearts over as they used them as stepping stones to their own advantages.

Dabi’s lust for blood and pain went hand in hand with Hawk’s craving for power. It was disgusting how the school worshipped them, taking any instance of abuse from either of them with a grain of salt, having already submitted to their superior auras. They truly were stepping stones, eagerly ready and oblivious to be used.

And Tenko was just that, another meek, fragile little stepping stone that seemed so easy to crack...but somehow, instead of shattering into hundreds of pieces, he managed to retain his brittle shape and morph into a thorn in Dabi’s side. When he would be shoved into lockers for seemingly hours on end with burning feathers taped over his mouth (courtesy of Hawks to supply some material) that accentuated the scars on the lower half of his face, he wouldn’t tattle to any head authority or teacher. When they would tear and burn his clothes off in the locker room after their training sessions and force him to walk home in sweaty gym clothes, Tenko never lifted a finger to decay a hand or turn a feather into dust. He would simply sulk off and try to remain invisible and out of their way.

It drove Dabi crazy; he wanted the translucent skinned boy to scream for his fucking life, he wanted to see him lash out and fight, he wanted him to squeal like the pig he was. He wanted more reasons to beat him down and feel an ounce of joy in himself that he never received elsewhere. Seeing people shake and cower before him gave him the same rush as any heavy drug would do-it was addicting, and left him craving for more. It reinforced the idea that he was better than anyone else, and if his dad wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction or assurance that there was a purpose to his miserable life, then he would have to relish in the emotions he felt within others, even if it meant at the expense of his peers.

And although he would never admit it, it secretly was hilarious as fuck for Hawks to watch Dabi lose his mind slowly but surely over the most trivial of things, like Tenko’s lack of reaction to their abuse. He knew it only came from the neglect Dabi felt at home, Endeavor’s blatant disappointment embedded its manifestation in the eldest son’s whole being, even if he would always deny that's the case. The lack of direction and emotion Enji showed to his lost cause of a son caused Dabi to lash out in increasingly aggressive ways at school. It just proved that even though Dabi thought he was better than everyone else, he truly was just another sheep like the rest of these idiots milling around. The brooding, aloof face he put up at school wasn’t enough to fool the sharp-witted avian; he was just an average spoiled elitist brat that threw tantrums when he didn’t get what he wanted, how stupid could he be? He thought too much of what others thought, even if he sought validation through his parents, who gives a fuck? It’s just another useless miserable factor of his life to ponder on, in Hawks’ opinion.

If you asked Dabi what he thought of Hawks, he would give you a similar answer but with different facets. Sure, it was nice to have another god of the school walk around by his side, enforcing their reputations, and yes, both of them connected on negligent parents... but Hawks gave in too much into materialistic things. Sex and popularity were deterrents from the real world, and Dabi would be damned if he were to follow pursuit. Hawks was slowly proving himself to also be another pawn in their life’s game of chess, but for the time being he knew that making friends with him was looking at the bigger picture if he wanted to make a name for himself, no matter how painful that process was at times. Why the fuck would he waste time going to parties just to socialize and bang a bunch of slutty whores when he could be proving himself to the yakuza? While Hawks would be schmoozing with some busty bimbo and playing beer pong on a Saturday, Dabi would be making his own types of friends in hidden alleyways and getting acquainted with shady figures like Kai Chisaki, a boy around their age with connections that ran around the city and underneath the city lines. The scarred boy was dedicated to his eventual goal to rid this rotten society of all the superficial heroes and scum, so naturally he hadn’t the need or want to indulge in his own selfish desires.

Up until this point, that is.

Which brings him and his winged partner-in-crime to now, waiting in the shadows outside the entrance to the locker room. Waiting for a certain spindly, greasy-haired freak to make his appearance so he could beat the shit out of him and release some still pent-up energy that was not relinquished in the bathroom.

So that he could tell him to stay the fuck away from what rightfully belonged to him, for the first time in his life.

He reached down to pick up some gravel, hand-picking the rocks that seemed the sharpest as he heated up his palm. Without saying a word, Hawks’ feathers floated towards Dabi’s hand, embedding their bristles between the rocks.

It took about 5 more minutes of aimlessly lounging against the wall and burning other various thrown-out papers scattered around the ground, until the man of the hour made his appearance.

It was pathetic, really, the way the door slowly creaked open as his matted pigeon colored head peeked out, swiveling around to take his surroundings. The second his head turned right, his eyes widened as he saw the hellraisers, and Tenko frantically tried to retreat back inside and slam the door shut.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t beat the too-fast quills that snatched him by the collar and practically threw him forward. He flailed his limbs, trying to regain his balance and flee his inevitable beating. The panic that rose in his throat grew exponentially as he was dragged further towards Hawks and Dabi, who was juggling burning blue rocks in his hand along with familiar red plumage.

He knew the drill all too well, becoming dreadfully acquainted with the makeshift missiles over the years.

“Hey, Shit-mura, catch!” Dabi lobbed a pierced feather at his bony abdomen, and Tenko flinched violently as a glowing blue pebble ricocheted off his body, hitting against a barely-fading bruise from a similar routine performed merely weeks ago.

Albeit for a different reason, one that didn’t have to do with a not-so-lucky girl like you.

Tenko fell backwards as a volley of feathers jabbed under the soles of his feet, and watched in horror as the perpetrators advanced towards him, Hawks with his wings so leisurely ruffling in the breeze with a laid-back smile on his face, hands tucked in his jacket pockets contrasting with the demonic grin etched on Dabi’s face as they leer down on him.

“What do you want now?” The fallen boy barely mutters, not bothering to look up at them.

“Don’t address me like that you little shit,” Dabi hisses, flames flaring up in his palms just to show off how much ammo was still burning and waiting to be used...all for him, of course.

“Stop hanging out with Y/N. The next time I see you talking with her, or even looking in her direction I’ll burn your sorry ass alive. Though I doubt anyone would care, anyways.” He speaks curtly, and it kills him internally to almost admit how frustrated he is seeing you two cross paths, even after a sole day.

Tenko raises his eyebrows, looking between Dabi and Hawks, who, for the meantime, doesn't feel a need to waste his breath on such a petty matter.

“We’re just friends, that's all we are. If you’re so concerned about me getting in the way, I promise I won't-”

“-You think I’m actually worried about losing you to her?” The inky head draws closer, his voice low and raspy as he laughs. “Let me tell you something, and listen to me very clearly, because the next time I repeat myself is the day I’ll fuck you both up- I don’t give a shit who wants her, or who doesn’t. I’m not concerned about losing her either, you know why?” He grabs the frayed collar of Tenko’s shirt, and the latter chokes as his air is squeezed out of his frail throat, hands frantically grabbling at the purple-scarred constraints.

He can feel flecks of spit on his face, the hands around his neck heating up suffocatingly as Dabi nails the final lid in his coffin.

“Because that little tease was practically sold to me, get it? I didn’t even want her in the first place, which essentially makes her nothing short of a playtoy for me to fuck and fuck with whenever the hell I want, without you in the picture. I don’t need some weepy moron like your sorry ass getting her all teary-eyed when her eyes should be on me and me only.”

He releases the weakling’s throat, wishing it was your smooth one instead. He almost would’ve had a boner if Tenko’s big, gulping breaths were a little bit more feminine sounding, like yours.

“Okay, okay, whatever man, I’ll do what I can to stay away from her. Just…” and his voice trailed off into a whisper, hoping he could muster any more sincerity in his words, “...please don’t break her heart, or be too rough with her.” The mere thought of you being bruised and banged up like he was made him gag.

It was sickening how similar his words mirrored your own.

Dabi scoffs as Hawks finally decides to speak up, spreading his hands in a faux show of good gesture.

“I gotta admit though, Shimura, you got good taste in girls. I’m almost impressed you managed to get a cute little thing like her to even touch you.” Tenko blanches, noting the way Dabi’s jaw clenches as the instigator’s mouth curves into a smirk, all of them knowing full well that the carefully chosen words were meant to rile the situation up even further.

But after a tense moment of everyone glancing at each other, the patchwork figure relents and exhales through his nostrils, deciding to grant the mess of fallen limbs a rare chance of mercy.

“Shut the fuck up bird brain. Let’s go, I don’t wanna hear my dad bitchin’ if I come home late again,” He kicks Hawk’s boot with his own and turns around towards the entrance of the school, not sparing Tomura a second glance. Hawks laughs handsomely and gives the rattled boy a mock salute and a fluff of his grand wings before trailing after his counterpart.

Shimura finally lets out a shaky breath, slowly picking his scattered belongings off the ground, snapping his head back up frequently as if the two were bound to come back and mess with him further.

While he was picking his remaining binders and gym clothes off the ground, unbeknownst to him, about 50 feet up and out the school Hawks was fishing an object out of his plush wings.

“What’re you doing?” Dabi asks lazily as they walk the streets of Musutafu, kicking sake bottles out of the way.

“Hol’ on-” Hawks grunts, yanking the object loose from his tight confines of his feathers before placing it in Dabi’s open palm.

“Huh? The hell’s this?” He raises an eyebrow, gingerly holding up the beaten screen in front of his face.

“That right there is extra material to hold against your little wifey. Seems like he had more pressing things on his mind rather than to check for all his belongings,” The quick-witted avian pats his elusive wings proudly, basking in the benefits his stealthy quirk allows him.

And sure enough, as Dabi gleefully cackles with laughter at his good fortune, Tenko Shimura is desperately patting down his pockets, looking for his phone while you chatter on cluelessly next to him.

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

“So? How was your first day?”

“Did you see Y/N? I heard from some upperclassmen that you got classes with her.”

“You should walk her home after school!”

Touya is immediately bombarded with questions from his siblings the second he makes his presence known by slamming the front door shut.

He growls under his breath at all the clammer around him, and he barks at them to shut the hell up before he burns the house down.

It doesn’t faze the rest of them who are blessed with their ice quirks, and they continue to pester him until he spills the most meager, unsatisfactory answers to them.

“Yeah, I had a class and lunch with her. Happy? Now seriously back off.”

Fuyumi and Natuso cheer as Shoto gives a slight smile.

He heads off into the dining table, munching on carb-infested snacks as he scrolls through Tenko’s phone.

The messages between you and him are long, dating back years that he has to swipe for minutes before getting to the first words of your conversations.

A majority of the speech bubbles hold nothing but dorky back and forth’s of new movies that came out, hanging out here and there, and school help. Sometimes he’d come across you asking for advice for your parents, or ranting about having to keep a frustratingly posh look in public, and he realizes surprisingly you two might have more in common than he thought.

He hadn’t even bothered to look at most of Tenko’s messages, nothing holding too much leverage on potential blackmail or more fuel against him, but suddenly his thumbs stilled as his eyes rove over a conversation from a couple months ago.

Y/N: Ugh, it’s just one of those days, y’know? Idk if its PMS but i’ve literally been watching porn for like 2 hours now

Touya’s eyes widen and he brings the screen mere inches from his eyes, just to ensure he’s not imagining his good luck...as well as disbelief.

The next messages however, grab his elation by the balls and twist them into a cloud of red-filled rage.

11:57 pm: I could give you something better than porn if you want:)

It takes all he has not to throw up his munchies on the table at the pure inexperience Tenko’s words so evidently hold.

Can this bastard be more cringe?

Apparently it didn’t matter to you, because not even a full minute later you had responded to past-Tenko.

Y/N: Oh yeah, like what?

Touya excuses himself from the table, ignoring Natsuo’s raised eyebrow directed at him from the kitchen.

He stalks to his room, closing the door behind him and locking it for good measure. Thankfully the questionnaire was over the moment he walked in, and his parents were gone until the evening, so he was set for privacy. It’s not like anyone would willingly want to come into his room unannounced anyways, unless they were looking for a death wish.

The gloomy black decor around his man-cave suited his mood well, only the dim light of his computer and phone providing him access to witness your whore antics.

Picture after picture filled the conversation, lacy white lingerie and red silk complimenting your figure well, and his heart speeds up when he sees the slutty expression on your face.

You were wearing makeup in some pictures, and completely bare-faced in others. Some photos didn’t do justice to your beauty with the naive angles you positioned yourself in, and others quite literally made him gape at your junk in the right places and slender bits along your silhouette.

In his eyes, it was innocence at its finest. Your honesty at showing all parts of you was mouth watering to Touya, the way you didn’t hide any side of you in such an intimate exchange made him want to sink his teeth into your helpless being and never let go.

It also made him want to melt Tenko’s skin off his very breakable bones.

We’re just friends.

Some friends they were, alright. A slut and a grade-A fuckin’ incel. How the hell did Shimura get a taste of you before he did? He’s your fiance for gods’ sake, that's his right and no one else’s.

Honestly, he’s disappointed in you right now. For all that talk you gave him earlier today, he didn’t take you as some easy hoe that’d put out for such a creep like Tenko, with just a few sweet words thrown here and there along with some bad pickup lines.

He crosses his arms behind his head and leans back into the plush mattress, frowning in thought. The sounds of his father banging open the door and his siblings chiming in to greet the old bastard float in and out of his ears as he thinks of what to do with you and Tenko.

Obviously your guys’ friendship surpassed normal boundaries, regardless of what you both pleaded or believed. Just the fact that Touya fucking Todoroki, son of the Number Two hero, eldest child and heir to a powerful elite family lost first claim of his wife-to-be’s body to some...some withering degenerate is making his heels expel smoke.

He’s not going to be second place again, not outside his own home too.

There’s no doubt in his mind that if you truly are all bark and no bite, you’ll find a way to meet up with Tenko behind his back. The pictures he’s seen tonight just proves it's going to take something bigger than a copped feel and a verbal warning to pull you both apart, and Touya is more than ready to take on that challenge.

A plan begins to form in his mind, one that ensures his fiance and the dirtbag will stay away from each other, even if he needs to push them to interact more initially. Even if he needs to make you desperate to reach out for someone, anyone who’ll come to your aid after he’s through twisting and welding your nerves together.

Touya falls asleep with one hand in his pants, one hand holding his phone screen up showing your white lingerie.

Tenko falls asleep for the first time in months without his bony hand down his sweats furiously working his shaft at those pictures you sent months ago. The cum that usually spills out and stains his abdomen is replaced with dread that embeds itself in the pit of his stomach. He knows either Hawks or Dabi has his phone, and he knows what he’s hiding in there isn’t something that would help his claim of being your friend.

You send a message to Tenko before you sleep, telling him to wait for you in the adjacent empty hallway to the cafeteria after you finish lunch with Touya.

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

“Where the hell were you yesterday? I tried calling and texting you!”

You indignantly demand, making no effort to move out of Tenko’s way as he tries to gently brush past you to make room for himself on the sidewalk.

“I, uh, lost my phone and forgot to tell you after school. Sorry.” He says lamely, and you squint your eyes and grip the straps of your backpack even tighter at his half-assed excuse.

Begrudgingly shifting to accommodate him in the narrow walkway, you both begin to walk to school. The butterflies have risen from the grave of your stomach again, butterflies of dread and gross anticipation at meeting your inky-headed match.

“Well, did you report it missing?” He scratches his neck softly and grunts in denial. You frown, thinking if it were you then you’d be throwing a racket at your missing phone. Guys are weird.

“Okay...well, anyways, I texted you about meeting me outside the caf’ when the bell rings for class. I have a feeling Touya’s gonna be stingy about me staying put like the perfect, brainless doll he wants me to be, ugh. So just keep your head down as usual obviously, and I should be out in no time hopefully if I can manage to slip through the crowd. I’m thinking we meet up in the General Studies hall? It’s right there-”

“-Wait, you texted me all this?” Tenko stops abruptly, red eyes wide with panic.

You turn to face him, eyebrows raised at his composure. “I mean, yeah? I didn’t know you didn’t have your phone with you, so I’m just telling you now I guess. Why? Do you know if someone took it?”

He hesitates, unsure of how to cover this up. He already knows either Dumb and/or Dumber has his phone, so no doubt if you truly did text him anything about your plan to meet up with him against Dabi’s specific instructions not to, one of them would already know by now. But he can’t tell you why your plan is now faulty and extremely dangerous.

Because then he’d have to explain how they got his phone in the first place. One question would lead to another, and then he would have to spill about what they threatened him with, and you would somehow end up getting even more hurt if you found out what went on behind closed curtains.

“Look,” He finally decides to speak, and rejoins you on your walk to campus, “I don’t want you putting yourself at risk to still hang around me at school if Dabi told you not to. He’s just gonna find out and get even more pissed. I’m used to it, but if you’re gonna be marrying that douche then it’s just gonna screw things up for you even more. We can just meet up after school like always and hang out at your place or something.”

You pout at his proposition, annoyed that your oh-so-loving finance is weeding his way into your private life...more quickly than you’re comfortable with. Why should you have to sacrifice time away from one of your oldest friends just because of some overgrown, spoiled man-child?

“Ten, you can’t let them dictate your life forever, okay? Like, I get it, they’re scary as hell and you were right-they’re not afraid to get physical. But it's only the first week of school back, are we really just gonna let them walk all over us? I’m not gonna be some stupid fucking bimbo thats gonna cower every time he flashes his fist at me.” You stamp the ground in frustration, and Tenko keeps quiet, growing more irritated by the second. You might now care about keeping your limbs intact, but he’s already as frail as can be. No sense in begging to get snapped like a twig just because of your suicidal intent.

“So what exactly do you wanna do? I get how you feel, really I do, but Y/N they’re not talked about around school for no reason. I don’t know how else to explain this to you, no matter how much you want him to know how independent you are, he’s not gonna care.”

Biting your lip in contemplation, you think on his words. He’s got a point, unfortunately. There’s not much you can actually do apart from run your mouth. Touya’s got the upper hand in every sense.

But still. You’ll be damned if you wait for him to make the first move like a sitting duck.

“Whatever,” you bite out. “We’ll just have to be smart about skirting around him. Just try to meet me in an empty hall outside the lunchroom if you can, and we’ll just make sure to stay out of open areas when we walk to class. No biggie. And of course we can still walk together home, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, as you two near the school entrance.

You try not to notice the delay in his answer as you walk through the gates.

***********

Immediately when they spot you in the halls on the way to your homeroom, the trio of girls swarm and bombard you with questions...questions that you already answered with some half-assed, bullshit excuses about how Dabi needed help on homework.

You guessed they weren’t as airheaded as they all let on.

“It’s fine, its okay, it was just some stupid misunderstanding we had. We’re okay now, really,” you wave them off while Tenko worries his bottom lip in an attempt to subdue his itching.

It takes some convincing for your concerned friends to finally leave with a warning of “If you hide anything from us, you’re getting your ass kicked!” and a casual laugh from you before you can head to class.

“God, I don’t know how I’m supposed to hide the whole arranged marriage thing from them if they’re always gonna be so nosy. Especially when Tou-I mean, Dabi, isn’t exactly hiding his asshole-ness”.

Tenko mutters in agreement to you, his head low as you both turn the corner into your classroom. He merely takes a step inside before looking up and hissing in panic, tripping backwards over his own feet.

“Ten, what the hell?” You yelp, narrowly avoiding his skinny frame about to collide into you.

“Shit, I forgot we changed rooms. And I’m not supposed to be seen with you, they already saw-!” He cowers at the side of the door, eyes wide with panic.

And you realize too late that he’s right, that his sparse appearance in the doorframe must not have gone unnoticed by the dreaded duo already in class. You can see your seat from the window in the door, and an inky blob of black hair and blond locks not too far from your seat as well.

“Oh god, fuck, just-just get to class before the bell rings, I’m sure they didn’t see you come in. But go, you’re gonna be late!” You swat him off and he dashes down the hall, throwing you a worried glance as he goes.

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself for whatever might happen if they indeed saw your figure with Tenko’s. Turning the handle with sweaty palms, you gulp and enter the room.

“You were almost late, L/N! Let’s try to hurry it up next time and not idly stand outside the classroom with friends, shall we?” Vlad King barks from the front of the room, and you cringe as you internally wonder if the entire school was against you today.

The room has quieted down significantly as your teacher starts to prepare the whiteboard for today’s lesson. You imitate Tenko’s earlier demeanor by keeping your head low and trying to avoid eye contact with everyone as you make your way to your seat.

Except, that proves to be quite difficult as you pass by Hawks’ seat, a lean leg casually stretching in a mockery to make you trip. You try to step over it, but unbeknownst to you, a lone red feather darts under your feet as you take a step and lifts you up, causing you to lose your balance and fall drastically to the ground, the contents of your bag strewn across the floor.

You can barely hear the scattered laughter filling the room, can hardly make out your teacher growling at you to take a seat and stop causing distractions, because the ringing in your ears drowns everything else out. The underside of your arms are prickling as you frantically adjust your skewen skirt and try to simultaneously pick up your displaced belongings. Your hands are shaking as they reach for a binder that slid under Dabi’s seat.

Bile rises to your throat as a studded black combat boot carefully places itself right on top of the binder. Your violently trembling hands pause midway to reaching for it, and you slowly raise your glassy eyes to meet your tormentor’s.

You wish you didn’t.

The way he looks down at your disheveled figure causes your heart to seize and create a giant lump in your throat. His piercing-decorated mouth is pulled back in a jeering grin, thoroughly enjoying the mess his friend created, just for both of their sick amusement.

Your pleading look does nothing to deter his firm hold on your binder, and you grow increasingly panicked as you hear the lesson start.

“Let go!” You whisper, eyebrows scrunched together, bottom lip trembling like a baby.

“Mmmh. Only if you beg like a little bitch.” He doesn’t even look at you straight in the eyes as he murmurs in his gravelly voice, his purple patched hand lazily writing down a few scribbles here and there to take notes.

It's cruel, almost. The bravado you held up in front of Tenko this morning is completely gone now, a mere facade to show you weren’t going to simply roll over on your back and show your stomach for Dabi. But it seems that’s exactly what he reduces you to, in just a manner of a few simple movements.

Just like yesterday, when he had you pinned twice at lunch.

Lunch.

Oh god.

You quickly shake your head from its treacherous wanderings, opting to focus on the imminent problem right now instead of combusting from future ones as well.

“Please, Touya,” you say almost under your breath, leaning in painfully just to make sure your plea fell only on his ears only.

His lowered lids rove over up and down your body in acknowledgement, letting them settle on your thighs clenched together, hands balled in your lap to prevent from ripping yours and his hair out.

Leaning back further and lower into his seat, he keeps his lustful gaze trained on your wary, kneeling figure as he subtly starts to palm himself through his jeans. Your jaw drops at his audacity, your mind completely forgetting to try and snatch the binder from his hold as he lightly thrusts up into his open hand. You scuttle backwards in disgust, your face feeling like it's on fire as you do.

But another trusty red feather slips underneath your skirt as you flail back, and grounds the flat side of its bristles against your clothed clit.

It's all too much, your hyper awareness and sensitivity to the whole humiliating situation reaching its peak, and you gasp loudly as the scarlet plumage circles itself once around your clit once more and retreats back into its large red home.

Dabi isn’t the only one palming himself now.

Once again, the class attention has been brought back to you, pages stopping their movements mid-flip.

“Y/N L/N, what is going on back there?” Your peeved teacher’s voice booms across the silent room.

You flinch and try to speak but Dabi beats you to it.

“She’s distracting me sir, I tried to give her back her binder but she wouldn’t take it for some reason.” He speaks monotony, a hint of feigned confusion so strategically accenting his words.

“No, no, that’s not what-”

“-It’s true Mr. King. I saw her get on her knees in front of Dabi while he was trying to take notes.” You’re interrupted again as Hawk’s smooth voice floats above yours, and your face burns with shame at his choice of words as your peers titter around you.

“If these two men miss today’s notes because of your shenanigans, you will personally be in charge of catching them up and tutoring them on whatever need be.” And with that, he turns around and continues to write nonsense formulas on the board.

The black binder that caused so much trouble is shoved towards you carelessly, papers slipping out onto the floor as it comes your way. The two demons share a knowing smirk at their fruitful teamwork.

It’s not even nine in the morning yet, and you want to scream.

*****

It takes less than two minutes to gather everything off the floor and to slink yourself into your seat, cursing the placement of Dumb and Dumber in front and behind you. Brimming with rage, you clench your pen tightly as it skims back and forth across the page, making up for 10 minutes worth of missed notes.

Not even a full beat of peace is passed before you feel a cool breath against your neck, and you slap a hand against your nape as goosebumps erupt across your skin.

“So who came into the room with you before class, huh?”

You honestly should’ve been more scared of his question, but you couldn’t even find the energy to turn around fully and refute his accusation. You merely exhale loudly through your nose, letting him know you were done talking in defense. He chuckles lowly and you can feel the vibrations from the rumble of his throat in such proximity to you.

“Better keep your pretty little mouth shut, unless you really are into getting degraded by Vlad,” he leans forward, his mouth right next to your ears. You can’t stop the shiver that passes through your body as his tongue slips out to caress the shell of your lobe at the same time his hand reaches down and around your seat, just to pinch the flesh of your ass.

You jump slightly at the onslaught of sensations and harshly bite your lip to prevent a yelp leaving your mouth. Clenching your pen tighter in your hands is the only thing you can do his touch wanders underneath your skirt, feeling the flesh of your thighs clench together again to ward off his offensive advances, elatedly letting his coarse fingers run in between your cheeks and dip into the crevice of your mound.

The sound of your quiet whimpers and the sight of your rigid back is enough to send him over the edge.

He suddenly digs his dull nails into your soft skin, and leans further towards you. You can feel his mouth press against the shell of your ear as he hisses.

¨I asked you a question you quirkless whore. Who the fuck came into the classroom before you? Was it that freak again?¨

¨L/N, can you answer the question up on the board please?¨ Your teacher´s voice rings out from the front of the room, and you and your bully both jump at the intrusion.

The board in question has a jumble of words and numbers written on it, and in your frantic stupor none of it makes sense to you. But you know if you’r

e caught slacking off again, you might get written up.

¨Uh, l-let me check my notes really quick, sorry,” you mutter as you desperately flip through your notebook pages.

¨Actually sir, I think I can help Y/N out.¨ Unexpectedly, Hawkś buttery voice chimes in, much to your relief. He answers the question flawlessly, and even your teacher nods his head impressively.

You might´ve even said a thank you to him if he hadn't turned his head at the side just for you to see him lick a long stripe up a certain feather, the corners of his lips turning up into a sickly sweet smile.

You feel queasy.

Dabiś fingers strategically resume their ministrations again to gain your attention as they trail down into the junction of your mound, lower and lower until the pads of his stitched fingers rest on top of your clothed clit.

You jerk slightly and shoot a hand down underneath your desk to stop him from moving, but the second your palm wraps around his wrist his fingers press deeper against your nub.

Fuck.

You know what he wants, so you answer him just to end this torture.

¨I don't know who you saw walking with me, but if you're referring to Tenko, then he went to his class. Try not to make it so obvious that you´re jealous or insecure of him, it's pretty pathetic. I mean damn, you´re even starting to see visions of him around the school? Maybe you like him more than I do!¨ He scoffs under his breath but you can feel the temperature around you both rise up.

Successfully managing to yank his paused hand away from you, you throw his wrist backwards toward him, savagely relishing in his stunned silence, no doubt.

Without turning around, you end him on a good note.

¨Didn't realize you were into ‘weak nobodies’, Touya. Who's the freak now?¨ You don't personally believe such a vile notion, but you hope know itĺl be enough to shut his fragile ego up for now.

It does.

He doesn't touch or talk to you the rest of class, much to your satisfaction.

You don't smell the burning of a certain someone's foot in youropen bag, all your hard work from notes to projects going up in literal tiny flames.

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

The bell dings, and you waste no time shoving your binder into your bag, failing to notice little flecks of ashes billowing in the air when the belongings go into the scorched fabric. You yank both straps onto your shoulders and immediately start to get up, but are promptly stopped when two figures swarm you and force you back into your seat.

¨Where you runnin’ off to cutie? Don´t tell me you forgot to have lunch with your fiance?¨ Hawks shakes his head mockingly, tutting in disapproval.

¨Yeah, I mean, she obviously thinks I´m into her little boyfriend, so I guess I'll just have to sit with her to demonstrate how I'm into women.¨ Dabi sneers, towering over your seated figure.

You blanch, regretting your outburst from earlier, knowing that he was going to make you pay for it.

***********

Tenko slinks off into the courtyard to look for any possible signs of his phone around the same time Hawks and Dabi are leading you through the more deserted halls towards the cafeteria, their arms thrown over both sides of your shoulder, vile words and innuendos bordering on threats hissed into your ears.

He knows it wouldn´t do any good for your safety if he went off trying to spot you amongst the crowds, and frankly, he didn't really want to. Especially not when he knew who you were probably with.

Sitting with Miruko, Takeyama and Kamiji was a no-go, they would all be uncomfortable with his unsettling appearance there without you as everyone´s middleman. Maybe he could find Atsuhiro? Or even Iguchi? Surely he could find them and they could all converse about the latest game that came out, as they usually did.

Somehow he manages to make his way into the crowded commons being invisible to most had its benefits sometimes, especially when being shoved forwards as if he's not there gets him forwards faster and looks around the massive room for the other two social outcasts.

Lo and behold, he spots them towards the back of the mess hall, where most of the trash cans were placed.

Typical.

Iguchi unsurprisingly has his reptilian snout pressed into his console, his long talons clacking away at the buttons. It's a miracle he doesn’t rip the thing to shreds with how fast his fingers move. Atsuhiro is fiddling with his precious marbles on the stained table, shooting them at each other just to frantically put them back in their original place before they can fall off the table.

Tenko clears his throat, moves his hood slightly off his head and makes his way to them.

¨Hey guys,¨ he mutters as he reaches their table. They both look up and squint at him, breaking out of their dazes as they try to register him. Feigning a roll of his eyes, Tenko brushes the wiry bangs away from his face so they can get a good look at him.

¨Aahh, Tenko Shimura! Our old friend, have a seat, have a seat!¨ Atsuhiro claps his hands loudly, and Tenko cringes as people from other tables turn around to glare at the commotion. He can understand why the brunette was an outcast like him- he talked weird, like he was from olden times, and he thought life was a grand play. Minor criticisms, but it was enough to be deemed offensive in their school, enough for his ass to be kicked all the way to the back of the cafeteria, marinating in the dumpster stenches.

Quickly trying to avoid a bigger scene, the pale glaucous haired boy slides into a seat across from the two and nods at the lizard boy.

¨Iguchi,¨ He acknowledges, and the hybrid lifts his eyes for a second from the screen and curls his lips in his own greeting.

¨How´ve you been Shimura? Haven't seen you in a while, usually you´re hanging out with L/N, right?¨

Tenko scratches his neck and feels skin pile up under his nails.

¨Yeah, she um...I think she wanted to sit with some of her own friends today.¨

¨I thought you two hung out with the same people-¨ ¨So what game´re you playing? Is that the one that just came out?¨ He interrupts Iguchi, trying to avert the conversation away from you. The less eyebrows raised, the safer you both would be.

They talk about the latest games and consoles, grades and classes. It feels nice, honestly. Even if he's not as well known and presentable as you, he gets to bask in things he actually is passionate about. Not that you ignore his own hobbies, but it gets tiring after a while to talk about facials and hero work, girl stuff that he just never really understands. You act like a protector to him, and he appreciates it, he really does, but...sometimes it feels like he's more of a show dog, and not the cute kind. A kicked puppy-no, charity work is a more accurate representation of what he feels like when he sees the not-so-subtle sympathetic looks your friends throw at you when they think he's not looking.

Tenko loves you a lot, and he knows you do too. But sometimes it's hard to see past that aged love when, as Iguchi basically stated, his friends are your friends.

Funny thing is, he has no real friends apart from you.

Tenko loves you a lot, and he knows you know.

It's been hard to remember that constant love when Dabi and Hawks have been making his life a living hell, especially now when they know you´re so protective of him.

It´s hard to remember that love when you insist on putting the two of you in actual danger, just to walk down a stupid hallway together.

But he supposes he can't blame you all the way. He guesses maybe it's mommy issues from a younger age around the time he met you. It's the way he could cry into your shoulder after his father would beat him black and blue, it's the way you would rub his back soothingly and shush his cries, never really understanding why he was so upset in the first place but still doing your best to be there for him.

His father had sent his sister away overseas to some private school to better her education, so he truly was alone with his batshit crazy family situation. You provided him with unrequited love from an early age on, you were his safe haven, his sanctuary of sorts. It was true, you really were the only one who understood why he acted the way he did and you accepted him for it.

He supposes he should feel more grateful to you, but like how every child is supposed to fly the coop and become independent, you had unknowingly trimmed his already-deteriorating wings and tethered him back to your welcoming, warm embrace.

You had ruined him

Almost a half hour went by between the three boys, discussing a wide range of topics, and for the first time in a while, Tenko was actually comforted by another guys’ presence. He wasn't worrying about shielding his body from ammunition, or keeping his greasy bangs in front of his eyes so he wouldn't have to meet anyone´s judgemental gaze.

¨Hey man, you should come over one day. I got a couple of GTA discs we can try out, or COD if that's more your thing,¨ Iguchi offers, reaching his clawed hand out. ¨Why don't we all exchange numbers?¨

¨Y-yeah, that sounds great! Hold on, lemme get my ph-¨

But his excitement was cut short, when his hand patted empty pockets.

Oh.

He almost forgot.

¨Uhm, sorry, I kinda lost my phone yesterday. Maybe you guys could just write your numbers down here or something,¨ And he fished around his bag for an empty paper, pushing it across the dirty table to them. They didn't seem to mind-they promptly wrote down their digits in chicken scratch writing.

¨Got any trash?¨ He stands up, plucking a few plastic wrappers off his seat and extending his courtesy to them. They wave him off and he shrugs, making his way behind them towards the giant dumpsters.

The second he drops the scraps into the bin, some force shoves him face first into the reeking cesspool of school lunches. He grabs the edge of the bin in a split second, ignoring the slimy substances he feels underneath his palms and whips around for the source of the assault.

All he sees behind him is a retreating figure, with blond locks swaying with every sauntered step he takes away from the frazzled target.

His phone wasn't as far as he thought it was.

In fact, if he had the balls to follow the winged boy back to his table, he would've surely discovered his beat up phone case held captive in Hawks´s open bag. He would´ve also seen both boys keeping a miserable girl sandwiched between them.

Tenko would´ve seen all of that from a distance, but you were there in your own skin, fighting the urge to rip out a certain purple-burned aggravator´s staples, and preventing yourself from diving into your burned backpack, pulling out a nasty pair of scissors and giving a special birdbrain´s wings a well-needed cut.

¨Why so quiet sweetheart? Nothing bitchy to say now?¨ Dabi seethes in your ear as he busies a hand in pinching the soft flesh of your thighs, a 2.0 to your torment in the classroom.

¨No,¨ you gripe, trying to finish your spring rolls. A feather plucks the roll from midair as you lift it towards your mouth, and redirects it into its owner's mouth.

¨Mmm, Dabi, your bitch can cook right. You should've told me my sister-in-law was such a domestic homebody, I would´ve defended her from your evil clutches sooner,¨ Hawks chuckles with a mouth full of food. His arm is draped over your shoulders, fingers dangling oh-so-close to your chest. Shoving them off even in the hallway proved to be futile after they both used their respective quirks into silencing you every time a teacher walked by and you attempted to open your mouth in a plea of help.

¨I´m not his fucking bitch, you brainless pigeon,¨ and even though you know you can´t fully move with how close their proximity is, you still try and push them off.

But Dabi is having none of it, igniting his fingers on your thighs as his counterpart cooes at your irate state. Ignoring your gasps and writhes, he doesn't give a moment to prep you as he fully shoves his hand down your panties, your skirt bunching up further up your legs when he does.

You give him a desperate look, and he merely gives you a sneer in retaliation.

¨Where did you learn to talk like that? That shit´s not gonna fly with me when I put a ring on it, bitch. If I hear you mouthing off like that again I'll personally make sure there's a better use for that slutty hole,¨ and at that his fingers start moving and heating up again, Hawk´s arm forearm tightening around you to prevent you from making a scene while the ravanette circles calloused digits around your wet nub.

He leans closer to your ear, and the rings adorning his lips feel cold against your skin. On the other side of you, the blond is smiling knowingly down at you, brushing his thumb against your neck.

You jerk as Dabi breathes into your ear, ¨But something tells me you wouldn't mind that too much. I mean if you´re not exactly screaming for help right now then I guess you must want this as much as I do. Fucking whore.¨

You shake visibly at the strength Hawks is using to counter your escape attempts, Dabi´s fingers tweaking your clit hard every time you jerk your body to the side.

¨No, no, what the hell? I don't want this, I don't want anyone to see me like this-!¨

¨Oh, is that what it is? Even so, I'm sure you remember our little talk the day before, right? About me laying off your friend, if you just take it like a good slut. Don´t think I haven´t forgotten about him, Y/N.¨

And then you still. Because of all the emotions running through your frantic head right now, you keep Tenko above all the other bullshit. He doesn't deserve your share of hell, he's already gotten his fill.

Red silk and lace cloud Touya´s mind.

¨We´re just friends¨.

¨That's a good girl,” your fiance whispers, kissing your outer ear and laving his tongue across the rim of it. You whine quietly and try to draw further into yourself-which is miraculously allowed by the blond as Dabi tugs you closer into his black shirt, his fingers down your skirt and teasing your slick entrance.

The Hawks watches you shamelessly, playing with a stray feather between his hands as Dabi descends his mouth to your neck, nipping you lightly and then harder when you squirm.

Your seating position is most unfortunate, the boys having picked an area that most teachers don't pass through on account of other delinquents settling in as well. No one would bother them here, just passing it off as PDA that the rest of them have no shame in showing either.

¨Oh! I haven't asked about your family yet. That's what good fiances do, right Keigo?¨ Dabi exclaims suddenly, lifting his head to give the amused blond a knowing look. Hawks hums in assent, eager to see how much more you could take of their special attention.

¨So did your mom ask how her beloved son-in-law is doing? You told her all about our quality time together?¨ His other hand creeps beneath your shirt, your stomach muscles clenching painfully tight at his unwanted contact.

¨Did daddy ask how I’m treating his precious little girl?¨

You bite your lip hard and squeeze your eyes shut as your bra is moved up, fingers trailing upwards towards your nipple. Hawks´ eyes are glinting as he watches in silence, his pupils dilated at the scene in front of him.

¨Or, actually, maybe save that nickname for me. I'd love to be the first to break it to him that his princess has a new daddy, a better one who broke her faster than he ever could.¨

A sob builds up in your throat. There´s 15 minutes left of lunch.

¨Maybe after we get married, we can just crash at your place,¨ he hides his mouth behind your hair, but you and Hawks can hear his low gravelly voice as he murmurs, ¨So they can hear me fuck the living daylights out of their precious baby girl...make sure you´re loud too, ´wanna let them know you´re a woman now. A married woman who´s gonna slave away for her husband, down on her hands and knees like she's supposed to-

Ding ding ding

His phone goes off, pausing him from his vile monologue.

You exhale in relief when he growls under his breath at the interruption, reaching for the offensive device.

But instead of pressing the decline button after seeing the screen, his face goes slack and pales tremendously.

His hands retreat from their perverse activities underneath your clothes, and you turn to him fully surprised now. You try to lean over to see the caller ID, but your less-than-pleased fiance actually shoves you off of him, right into Hawks (who thankfully catches you).

You look up at him who seems equally bewildered, and then at Dabi who holds the phone to his ear.

He gulps and clears his throat before he speaks.

¨Hello?¨ It still holds his raspy tone, but you can't detect his usual snarkiness.

There´s a pause as he listens, and then he gets up from the table and walks away without so much as a second glance to the both of you.

Hawks, being a guy who's too fast and too smart for his own good, already has an inkling as to who could emit such a reaction from the arsonist.

A wandering feather that brushes against your leg jerks you out of your stupor, and you flinch away from the warm body that caught you.

He laughs a real laugh this time, not one with any malice or with undertones of perverseness in it as you scuttle back to the other side of the short table. You glower at the floor as he rests his elbow on the table, cheek in his hand. He tilts his head at you, very birdlike and for a moment in his open eyes, you can understand why Mirko likes him so much.

But fuck if he wasn´t a total scumbag on the inside.

¨Aw come on sweetheart, you know I don´t bite. We just wanna mess with ya´, it's cute seeing you get all nervous and shy. I gotta admit, it's a nice change from your, ah, colorful language.¨

Your head whips up to face him, and you let out a short, humorless laugh at his audacity.

¨Mess with me? Hawks, you guys are fucking assaulting me. It's not funny or cute, and I know your little innocent act is complete bullshit. I know what you guys do to Tenko, and the fact that you don't even stop Tou- I mean, Dabi from it shows you´re just as bad as him!¨ You bang your fist on the table, acting out now since the worst one out of the duo is out of commission for the time being.

But instead of narrowing his eyes and shooting feathers at you to shut you up, he merely smiles wider and shrugs in indifference, never taking his eyes off of you.

It's hard not to gape at him. What kind of world was he living in, where none of this had any effect on him? All this-this bullying and torment was just fun jests for him.

But you know it's less pure with your betrothed. You know with him, it's some fucked up power-play, a show of dominance that you want no part in.

You can't help but toss a glance to where he was now, 20 feet away and speaking intensely into the speaker.

¨You know, if you stopped fighting him and just gave in it would be a lot easier for you. He likes putting you down and getting a reaction out of you.¨

You don't tear your gaze away from Dabi, so you don't see Hawks lean in and take advantage of your distracted focus.

¨He gets off on it.¨

His velvety voice rumbles right next to you, and you whip around and slap a hand over your ear as a shiver simultaneously passes through your body. He doesn't move, however, but merely leans back and throws an arm over the back of your seat, grinning like a madman.

¨See, this is exactly why I´m not giving in yet. What the fuck is wrong with you both? How could you think something so fucked up is funny? No wonder you both give Tenko hell-¨

You clamp a hand over your mouth, forgetting in your rage not to mention the taboo name. Your eyes search gold ones for any sign of similar hate that you find in cerulean orbs, but there is none.

All he does is raise an eyebrow and strain his smile a little.

¨Between you and me, sweet thing, it really is in your best interest not to mention Shimura´s name around Dabi. I don't really know why he's got it out for that dude, but it doesn't really help Dabi calm down when his wife-to-be is prancing hand-in-hand around school with him.¨ Your lip curls in discontentment, and you feign a scowl at Hawks´ words.

¨Why does he even care? It shouldn't matter who I hang out with, it's not like I'm cheating on Dabi or anything. Besides, he doesn't even like me, he just wants some girl he can ruin.¨

A few moments of silence pass, and then he speaks. What he says makes your heart seize up, and the butterflies kick in again, much to your disappointment.

¨Is that what you think? Man, you both have a long way to go, then.¨ You want to ask what he means, but you´re unfortunately interrupted when a very unwanted lanky figure plops next to you, jostling you to move over.

¨ ´Just had something to take care of,¨ is all Dabi offers as he starts packing up his stuff from the table.

¨Who was it? Was that your dad?¨ Hawks presses.

Dabi´s eye twitches.

¨Yeah. ‘Was calling about some stupid assignment I failed, giving me shit about it.¨

¨He usually doesn't call you at school,¨ is followed by a raised gold eyebrow.

¨I know. I was actually almost excited for once-¨ Dabi laughs bitterly, and you just listen with your head down, utterly confused. What was the deal between him and his dad?

And just in time, the bell for dismissal rings.

Thank god.

You silently pack your belongings as well, hoping that this time you could slip out and actually see Tenko for a couple of minutes if he was waiting for you like you told him to, but as usual, your beloved fiance intervened.

¨You´re always rushing off when the bell rings, doll. Where are you going in such a hurry? I hope our company didn´t make you uncomfortable or anything,¨ he snakes a hand around your waist and pulls you in tight, leering at you.

¨I just don't want you guys getting me late for class,¨ you mutter, avoiding his lecherous gaze.

¨You sure no one's waiting for you out there? Maybe we could both go and say hi to whoever´s taking up all your time-¨

¨Uh, no no! That's okay, I really was just making sure I wasn't late. We can go to class together though, no worries.¨ You quickly grab onto his jacket sleeve and look at him with big eyes and a little smile in a shameless, desperate attempt to deter an inevitable bloodbath.

He raises his eyebrows at your volume and the way you clutch at him while simultaneously quelling the blush that creeps onto his face and the smoke that was comically coming out of his ears. If his fiance was throwing herself at him for the first time, then who was he to reject her?

¨Alright, let's go then,¨ he steers you out towards the entrance of the cafeteria, and you force your legs from grounding themselves and running in the opposite direction of where he was taking you.

You feel him squeeze you tighter, and you raise your head at him, startled to find him already looking you over with a strangely soft expression. It wasn't anything deemed romantic for sure, but it was a lot different than his usual sneers and scowls. Your stomach does somersaults at this new expression that was privy for your eyes only, his piercing blue eyes rendering you speechless.

He looks so much better when his mouth is closed, and his eyes do the talking instead.

However, Dabi does in fact open his mouth, not to spew venom, but to say something that makes your heart beat even faster.

¨Yḱnow, all jokes aside, you weren't too annoying at lunch. Maybe it's ´cause you kept your fat mouth shut with a shit ton of food, but you were pretty tolerable.¨ you quietly scoff at his backhanded compliment as you both exit the hall, Hawks trailing a couple feet behind you, both sides of his shoulders clutched by fangirls who seemingly spawned out of nowhere.

¨I´d say the same to you if you weren't feeling me up every five seconds and mouthing off like a-¨

¨-But, yeah, thanks for actually sitting with me. I really would like it if we did this more often,¨ he murmurs so quietly that you´d think he was talking to himself. He isn’t looking at you anymore, his gaze squinted as he navigates through the crowded and loud hallway.

You want to point out that technically he wasn't really giving you a choice of where to sit when he threatened you like earlier, but something in you tells you to stay quiet as he maneuveres your body around so that no other student would bump into you by accident.

A sense of whiplash comes over you at that moment. Only a mere couple of minutes before he was calling you his bitch and terrorizing you, but now with that soft gleam in his eyes and the confession he was giving you, it feels like it was only you two at the moment regardless of the massive crowd swarming around.

If Hawks was a little closer within earshot, you have a feeling that Dabi would be acting very differently, no doubt. But nevertheless, you swallow your apprehension and acknowledge his different aura.

¨Sure, Touya. We can sit together more often...as long as you lay off the handsy part, we haven't gotten there yet. We've barely been able to have decent conversations, but I´ll try if you try too.¨ While you say that, you subtly try to look around for Tenko but find it hard as Dabi maintains eye contact with you and pulls you along the school. You glumly give up as you both turn the corner to where the classes were.

He ignores everything else you say, solely cherry picking where you said his real name, again. Dabi didn't particularly care for all the other bullshit you uttered, but he shuddered when you stroked a thumb against his hand. He was glad that their plus one had opted to not be in their faces at the moment, because it was nice for once to say something relatively normal to you. Because in the end, he might be a menace but he wasn't delusional. He really could see you as his wife, not just on her hands and knees like he had purred about earlier, but actually as someone who could offer him a new, better life than the one he had at his own home.

He saw it in the way you gazed so softly at Tenko, saw it in the way your voice lilted higher and in the way you softly pull his scratching hand away from his marred skin

The way your lips puckered as your mouth invited another bite of food made his chest ache with a weird feeling he couldn't quite place a stitched finger on. The scowl you gave him and Hawks both when you sensed they were about to fuck with you more made him want you in a way that he had never wanted anyone so close before. He wanted to be the reason your scowl would eventually turn into a smile, but for the meantime he knew he couldn't refrain from seeing fear and panic in your eyes. You were cute, with a body and a smart mouth to match. Dabi guessed that you were also taken aback by his sudden intimate gestures, and he couldn't help himself to hope that you had a slight inkling of what your presence was slowly starting to do to him.

But if you thought that you had newfound leverage on him, or thought that he was wrapped around your finger by a small sentence he said, then you were more stupid than he was givng you credit for.

Because the second you bit your lip and looked away after touching his hand lightly, he turned his head back and made eye contact with Hawks, giving him a knowing look.

Hawks´ wings flex as he gives a cheshire grin to his counterpart, letting him know he already knew what to do.

¨Sorry girls, ´gotta head to class, can´t let my grades fall. I´ll catch you two later, yeah?¨

He is met with simpering ¨yeah, sure!¨´s and ¨of course, text me though!¨ as they sashay away.

¨Definitely,¨ He chuckles, running a hand through his floppy hair.

As if he would be caught dead texting Tweedledum and Tweedledee.

But anyways, back to business.

He cracks his knuckles and stretches above his head, letting out a satisfied groan as he leisurely pulls out a phone. It takes some scrolling before finding the message, and bingo, he finds the right hallway adjacent to the cafeteria after backtracking his steps a bit.

Lo and behold, who was already there? That's right, none other than Tenko Shit-mura. Hawks´ eyebrow raises as he sends a quick message from Tenko´s phone, and pockets the device.

¨You´ve got balls, I´ll give you that.¨ Tenko whips around in horror as he puts the voice together with the person. His thumbs overlap each other and alternate to scratch at his scabbed arms and neck. It's something near a miracle to Hawks as he can't fathom why a girl of your stature would hang around with this degenerate. Sure, he himself had girls sucking his dick in every crevice of the school and outside, but at least he had a name for himself, and a reputation befitting of a god´s.

This thing?

¨Oh, h-hey Hawks,¨ and the unamused blond curls his lip in disgust as Tenko´s wavering words were almost drowned out by the sound of vigorous scratching. ¨I was just waiting for Iguchi-¨

¨-And Atsuhiro, right? Funny, they left the caf´ at the same time you did, so why exactly are you here?¨ He smirks and folds his arms, leaning on the lockers.

It was borderline hysterical how white Tenko´s face went, and Hawks distantly wonders how much whiter could his face go before real blood and veins were visible behind the mess of scarred facial features.

Poor Tenko stammers and stutters over his words trying to find a good enough reason as to why he was lingering there, but he needn't worry so much, because unfortunately for him, Hawks knows exactly why.

He holds up Tenko´s phone casually and grins at his ashen face as if they were old buddies.

¨Didn't anyone ever tell you not to play with other people´s toys?¨ Tenko makes a quick swipe at the phone suspended in midair, but only succeeds in getting sliced by a few directed feathers.

He groans and clutches his now bleeding stomach, holding up a hand to see a thin line of red adorning his cracked skin.

Hawks shrugs as if nothing had happened, and cocks his head at his victim. ¨I decided, if you can't learn to keep your nose out of other people's things then I have every right to keep yours.¨

¨Give it back man, I don´t know what your deal is, but if this is about Y/N then I swear I haven't been anywhere near her.¨ Tenko looks at him desperately and Hawks chuckles lightly, making the other´s heart sink.

¨Yeah, you have. You might be just as gross and sly as Dabi is, but you´re not smarter than me.¨ He waves the device in his snug hand. ¨She might just see you as her friend, but we both know you want her more than that.¨ Tenko loves you.

¨In my opinion, she looked better in red.¨ His steel colored head snaps to see his phone screen showing the messages he was so afraid of them finding out about.

¨That's not fair, that was so long ago, way before Y/N even knew Dabi.¨ ¨You think that's gonna matter to him?¨ He pushes himself off the wall and advances with his hands in his pockets towards Tenko, who is now frantically scrabbling back on all fours like a mutt.

¨The fact that it even happened is a given that you´re a dead fucker now, Shimura. And don't think I don't see you two running around in the hallways trying to avoid me and Dabi, he sees all that too, y´know. We've both got eyes around the school.¨ He crouches in front of Tenko, and his grin turns ugly into a sneer when the shit-stain on the floor flinches and raises his hands up as if he were about to be hit.

¨Why does Dabi care so much about me and her? She´s gonna be married to him, not me. He gets her officially, not me.¨ Tenko says rather bitterly, in Hawks´ opinion.

¨He hates how close you are to her. He's jealous, simply put, at how well you know her, how you make her smile and put her at ease. It drives him crazy that some social reject like you has seen her body and the best and worst parts of her before he has, and that's why he lashes out at her. These pictures just prove to him that you need to be removed from the scene. Permanently.¨

¨Okay, I get that, but then why are you so involved with it? What are you even getting out of snitching for him?¨ Hawks´s eyes glint and darken, sending a sinister shiver down Tenko´s back. He licks his lips and leans close, giving a confession of his own.

¨´Cause if your guys´ shared whore screws up again, I might get a taste of her too. Personally, I couldn't care less about Dabi´s heart, but I wanna see why this girl is worth all this trouble.¨ The fallen soldier recoils slightly at his implication.

Tenko forces himself to take deep breaths and to stop his shaking. He needs to get his phone back and go to the nurse before anyone sees this scene.

¨Just give me my phone back dude, please,¨ He hisses desperately, outstretching a gnarled hand.

Hawks studies him for a moment. He was almost disappointed in Dabi that the flame user was so butt-hurt about this pathetic sack of bones being closer to his girl than he was.

But that's what he gets when he holds onto a shred of hope that someone could be a candle to his everlasting flames.

¨Here,¨ and he takes momentary mercy on Tenko, tossing his phone on the ground in front of him.

He starts walking away, wings ruffling with foreboding anticipation as he pulls out his own phone to send a message to the man of the hour.

But before he does, he calls out over his shoulder a warning to the boy on the ground.

¨If you see her again, you won't be the only one getting buried that day¨.

Tenko scratches his neck.

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

Ashtray: Was he there?

2:00 pm: Yup, you were right. Guess they never learn, huh?

Ashtray: Whatever, I have her phone and I just sent him the message. Send me a feather so I can send it back to her class

2:01 pm: You deleted the message right?

Ashtray: Obviously. You too?

2:01 pm: Yeah, did it as soon as I saw him standing there

Ashtray: Good. Make sure the area is clear after school

Call Kai over too, I'm gonna need him when I'm preoccupied

And unbeknownst to you, a velvet feather was indeed carrying a small cellular device on its back, weaving in and out of empty hallways to find your designated classroom.

The silent plumage floats stealthily through the slightly ajar door and makes sure to stay low to the ground as it approaches your desk. Luckily there's an opening in your bag, so it quietly drops your phone inside while you tediously take notes.

It can't help itself when your legs cross over themselves; you look so unassuming and innocent that it just has to get a quick taste. The feather travels up the expanse of your leg up to your inner thigh, and gently brushes against you, laying some pressure on it as well.

From his own classroom, Hawks shivers in sickening pleasure when he senses the vibration of your gasp and the quickening of your heartbeat as you jolt and look underneath your desk.

But you find nothing, the feather already having been directed to whizz out of the room and back to its owner.

¨What the hell,¨ you mutter to yourself as you brush the crawling feeling off your skin. You glance at your bag for a second, and then do a double take when you see the screen of your phone glowing.

After taking a quick glance at your preoccupied teacher, you reach for the device and squint at the notification that shows on your lockscreen.

One new message from Ten-ten.

Ten-ten: Meet me behind the training grounds outside after school, its urgent

Your brows crease in concern and you tap a message back to him.

2:05: Are you okay? What happened?

2:07: Where were you today after lunch? I didn't see you outside the lunchroom

2:06: And when did you get your phone back?

2:10: Hello?

And from across the school, Tenko is trudging away from the nurse's office back to his own classroom, frowning at your message as well.

Y/N: Meet me behind the training grounds outside after school, its urgent

He sighs and drags a gnarled hand down his weary face, stopping his fingers under his jaw to dig his nails into the thin flesh.

2:06: We can't meet up again at school, Dabi and Hawks are gonna kill both of us

2:08: I´m serious

He's in his classroom now, and his unease has merely grown. You were usually so good at texting him back promptly, what´s wrong now?

Biting a fingernail, he hesitates before using his other free hand to type some more.

2:10: You okay?

Almost 30 minutes pass, and Dabi is counting each second in anticipation.

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

The sounding chime of the school bell causes Shimura to stop his periodic scratching and leg-bouncing, instead opting to shoot up out of his seat and bound out the classroom to where you said you were.

Anxiety clouds over and erases all rational thought from his disturbed mind when he thinks of your lack of response.

Were you mad at him? Were you safe?

A stronger man with more self control would have resisted from going to check up on the girl that caused so much trouble for him, but Tenko was not a strong man. He was weak, and soft-willed, and if he was already getting the life beat out of him any other day because of his weakness, then what would one more catalyst be?

His bony figure is ricocheted off various bodies as he bolts down the halls towards the back of the school, looks of disgust thrown his way and noses scrunched as he mutters occasionally, ¨Sorry, excuse me¨ and ¨My bad, I´m sorry¨. It doesn't deter him, he's used to the disdain by now and with the thought of you in mind he finally reaches the back of the Quirk Training facility, shoving through the double doors.

Muted sunlight peeks through the large trees that loom over the area, the sky already turning a russet color in the beginning of its descent. He looks around wildly for you, and then he finally spots you in all your oblivious glory standing at the edge of the fence, your face slightly covered from the large sakura branches winding over the mesh.

Tenko releases a breath he didn't know he was holding, and starts approaching you.

You´re playing with the vines growing on the fence, but you turn around when you hear footsteps coming near.

¨Hey! What´s up?¨

¨I could ask you the same thing,¨ he says warily, looking you up and down to make sure you seemed unscathed. ¨What's going on? Why haven't you been answering any of my texts?¨

You raise an eyebrow and laugh a little, thinking that he was messing with you.

¨Huh? You´re the one who called me here. And you didn't send any messages to me, look.¨ He grabs the phone that you thrust in his face, scratching lighty at his collarbones.

You gently swat his hand away and watch as he thumbs through your chat log.

His own brows furrow and he looks at you weirdly as he produces his own device, flipping the screen around and showing you the many messages he sent not too long ago.

You squint at the blue light and look back up at him, mouth agape.

¨Wait, so you didn't call me here? I tried texting you too, but I didn't get an answer. I just thought you were busy or something.¨

¨Look, I don't know what's going on here, but we need to leave,¨ He says anxiously as he grabs your arm and starts to pull you around the corner. ¨This is weird, I don't like it-¨

¨Hold it you two.¨

You both freeze, ice flooding through both your systems as you recognize the lazy voice.

Slowly, you turn your head to face the last person you wanted to see in this state.

Hawks is leaning casually against the brick wall, wings flared out to their fullest extent. Next to him is a new guy you´ve never seen before, a brunette with gold eyes like Hawks´ and a black beak mask to match. His hands are clad in white gloves, and he periodically keeps checking the watch on his pale wrist as if he has somewhere to be.

He's surrounded by cronies, tattoos covering the expanse of their bulky arms and baseball bats along with guns strapped over their heads or twiddling through their fingers.

You think you´re going to throw up.

Dabi is the first to speak, his guttural voice cutting through the thick, tense air like a serrated rusted knife.

¨Well, shit doll. I didn't think I'd have to break my future house slut so quickly.¨

¨Dabi, wait, there's been a misunderstanding-¨ ¨-And you,¨ he draws on as if you hadn't spoken. You tried to catch his eye but it seemed like he was purposely avoiding you, instead going for drilling invisible holes through Tenko´s head.

If you had asked him, he was granting you mercy and your last shred of dignity by not letting you continue speaking, before he viciously strips it away from you. He feels as though if he hears your voice right now, the entire pavilion will go up in flames, including the chicken bastard and the Shie Hassaiki members.

He stuffs his inflamed palms into his fire-deterrent pants to quell his unbridled rage. To anyone else he seemed at sick ease in having the upper hand, but in all honesty, Dabi would be lying if he said he really did wish you would have passed his test and not met with Tenko.

¨You´ve got a lot of balls to be talking to my bitch for such a dickless wonder. I thought after beating it into your skull for a couple of years that you'd understand where your place is.¨

Out of the corner of your eye, a massive wooden bat swings towards Tenko and smashes against his head with a sickening thud.

They must have surrounded you from the other side of the building too when you both were distracted.

You scream so loudly you can feel your vocal cords vibrating in your throat. Everything seems to move ten times faster as you´re suddenly yanked back by invisible feathers, and dragged almost 15 feet away from Tenko´s unmoving body right into Dabi´s cruel embrace.

He harshly spins you around and shakes you like a ragdoll, staring you straight in your horrified eyes.

¨I told you not to hang around him, right? Well, if you don´t wanna listen to me, then at least listen to the beautiful sounds of your precious boy toy getting his skull bashed in.¨

And with that he spins you around again, a vice-like grip on your arms as he traps you against his hard body. You´re faced with front-row seats to watch the nauseating scene of Tenko indeed getting beaten to a pulp.

¨I´m going to make you fucking regret it,¨ He hisses in your ear, but you´re so dizzy with blood and teeth littering the ground filling your vision that you can´t even move.

You vaguely hear Hawks tsk next to you, leaning against the wall and stretching his wings as if he had better places to be. As if watching a kid getting beaten half to death was something he saw every day.

Grunts and jeering comments come from the large tattooed boys while they rain blow after blow on Tenko´s shuddering body. You can't even comprehend what kind of pain he´s in from the inhumane shrieks that come out of him. It was mesmerizingly terrifying how a human being could make sounds like the ones he was making, ranging from low wails of pleading mercy to high pitched cries of pain when they began kicking him.

Feet pound on his back, crushing his paper-thin skin against the gravel, causing it to rip and tear,allowing rivers of blood to pool around his form. Now-cracked baseball bats become dented as they explode down on his head, and you distantly wonder how he's still alive with bits of hair and membrane clinging to the wood.

Your best friend flinches every time contact is made with his body; his fingers are curled and raised above his head to protect himself, and you think you can make out his chest puffing in and out a mile a minute. He might be having a panic attack, you´re not sure and you want to run to him, but the loud ringing in your head and the tears that cascade down your face are indications that you know you´re utterly trapped right now. You couldn't move even if you wanted to.

¨Stop,¨ you croak from the confines of Dabi´s arms, clawing at his jacket. ¨Please, stop, you're killing him.¨

Dabi releases an arm to tap on his chin in mocking contemplation. ¨Hmm...tempting, but no thanks doll. This is supposed to be a lesson, not a freebie.¨ ¨Are we done from here?¨ A nasaly bored voice emerges from the background laughs and screams. The brunette with the beak-mask is standing a little away from Hawks, sighing and rolling his eyes.

Is everyone here excluding you and Tenko a psychopath? How does Dabi even know them?

Not that you could say you were surprised, however. A man cruel enough to execute something like this surely has a heart blacker than coal.

¨Dabi, please!¨ you sob hysterically now, the pained noises coming from Tenko are coming out softer and less frequently now, you think he might die soon if one more bat slams into his ribcage. ¨I´ve learned my lesson, please, please don't do this to him.¨ you cry and beat your fists against his arms, which only squeeze painfully around your middle.

¨Nah, I don't think you have, actually. You said that last time, and look what's happening because of your lies,¨ he jeers at you, exchanging a smirk with Hawks.

¨I´ll do anything,¨ you whisper in desperation, looking at him full in his poker face.

¨Anything?¨ His brows raise gleefully, and you nod vigorously, not caring what that means for you, only concerned that the assault on the motionless body mere feet away from you stops.

Dabi regards you for a moment, taking in your tears and wobbling lip, before he finally turns to the masked man, and gives him a curt nod. ¨Alright, we´re done here Kai. Take your guys and leave.¨

The man named Kai dusts off his purple jacket and calls out for his boys to stop.

¨That's enough. We´re going.¨ He wrinkles his nose in afterthought. ¨And make sure you clean your stuff off, I don't wanna deal with bloody bats...god knows how many diseases that thing is carrying, ´looks like it has mange.¨

That thing is currently groaning in difficulty to lift his face out of a puddle of his own blood, tears, and snot, almost choking on the mixed liquids invading his mouth and nostrils

He blearily lifts his head ever so slightly, and sees you writhing in Dabi´s embrace, one of his forearms wrapped around the front of her throat and evidently choking you from the way you frantically gulp in air.

He hoarsley whispers out your name, and you heave out another dry sob when you see his lips form your name in them. He painfully and slowly starts to rise up to his hands and knees, and it's like looking at a baby stand up for the first time from the amount of visible shaking you can see in his broken limbs.

Dabi, you, Hawks, and Kai as well as the groupies all watch in awe as the stick-thin figure manages to elbow his way up, and Hawks scoffs in disbelief at Tenko´s grit. A man in his state shouldn't even be able to blink.

Meanwhile, you can feel your fiance's arms tremble in barely concealed rage from watching the blatant act of disrespect.

You want to tell Tenko to just stay the fuck down, and don´t piss them off further, but part of you takes savage pride in his perserverance.

Is he just used to this? Is that why it's so easy for him to disregard the volumes of blood that come vomiting out of his mouth? How long has he been accustomed to places other than his heart being broken?

It's hard not to cringe as he places his bloodied palms against the sharp concrete; you can see tiny pebbles embed themselves in his open wounds, and his fingers bend in unnatural ways as he elevates himself and maintains eye contact with just you.

You think he's crying, but it's hard to tell when your own vision is blurry.

It´s quiet for a moment after everyone witnesses Tenko´s own version of a fuck you, until Kai turns on his heels, his boys immediatley scrambling towards their leader as he makes to leave.

He walks towards Hawks, and you can hear him murmur, ``You owe me.¨ He gives a curt nod to Dabi who merely grunts.

Hawks, ever the optimist, laughs joyfully and reaches out a hand towards the beaked boy. ¨Of course man! We'll be in touch soon.¨

Kai merely waves his hand in a resemblance of a farewell, crinkling his nose at Hawks´ outreached one. He rounds the corner, his boys smirking in tow, and then they´re gone. As if nothing has happened.

The silence grows louder, deafening your ears. The only reprieve you get from feeling mounting terror of being vulnerable without anyone around is when Tenko starts hacking, his arms buckling underneath his weight in an effort to keep upright.

And then they surround you.

****

¨What's with the tears baby? You knew this was gonna happen, we warned you-¨

¨-Scared you´re gonna end up like him? Good, but I´ll be honest, I think cum would look better coating your face-¨

¨-You didn't actually think I was gonna let you get away with this shit again, did you? God you´re such a spoiled slut, I´m gonna enjoy breaking you down like your parents never did-¨

Shoving you around and into each other, groping you, leering right in your personal space, advancing towards you so that you stumbled backwards closer to Tenko.

¨No, stop, leave me-us alone, stay away from me!¨ You scream, and Dabi wraps an inflamed hand around your upper arm, racking up the volume of your cries.

¨Shut the fuck up. You don't get to complain anymore, you're gonna finish your punishment you little brat.¨

You wail as you wrench yourself out of his grip, fueled by pure adrenaline. Ignoring your searing flesh, you try running around them but with a lazy flick of Hawk´s wrist, numerous feathers catch you around your collar and feet, pulling you back. Your thrashing only serves in getting cut up more, and they deposit you less-than-gently right next to Tenko.

He watches with wide eyes and shakes his head with urgency for you to leave, to run again, but his head is forcefully slammed to the ground by the blond´s boot. You hear a crunch from his nose and bile rises from your throat as you try scrambling towards him out of instinct.

¨Do you have a death wish? Stop worrying about him, and worry about yourself for a second doll, you´re gonna want to.¨ A scarred hand grabs your chin and yanks it to face him. His lips are curled back, his lids lowered and his eyebrows are raised.

You jerk your head back and spit in his face. ¨You´re not gonna get away with this Touya.¨ You don't even care about using his other moniker anymore. ¨How the fuck can I not worry about him? Look at him! You´re the crazy one!¨

He snickers and crouches to your level, moving forward until your rapid crab-walk backwards results in your back hitting the brick wall.

¨You hear that Keigo? I´m gonna pay for this, oh no, however will I recover?¨ He simpers, joining in Keigo´s boisterous cackles.

You risk a panicked glance at Tenko. At least there wasn't a boot on the back of his head anymore, but you didn't gain any comfort when he was roughly grabbed by his shirt and lifted up to a sitting position facing you, Hawks smugly holding his head up from rolling around in its socket.

His face was a mess. You could barely recognize his thin, narrow features anymore when his whole head was caked with splotches of liquid red, mud, and gravel piercing his cheeks. His mouth was gaping, filled with yet even more blood, and where his teeth used to be was instead gaping holes and vermillion-stained cracked bone

Now that he's sitting somewhat upright, you can clearly see protrusions where his ribs are, clearly indicating breaks and torn ligaments.

But your attention is directed to the monster in front of you. He rests a burning hand on your calf, and you whimper as you try to pull back from the unbearable pain. You were certain that if when you got out of here, you´d need to go to an infirmary immediately.

Touya stops your leg from retreating, holding it down while simultaneously trailing his digits up your leg, crawling forward even closer to you with the most disgusting shit-eating grin on his face while doing so. All your pleas of ¨Stay back¨ and ¨Don't come any closer Touya, I swear-!¨ does nothing to deter him, rather goading him on while your audience of two watches in horror from one man and perverted amusement with the other.

¨Yeah? Or what, huh? You gonna hit me with your quirk? Oh wait, you don't have one.¨

He straddles you, pressing his chest against yours and shamelessly looking down when your breasts swell from the pressure. You bite your lip and turn your head, taking in quick inhales to avoid breathing in too much of the smell of smoke.

¨Nuh-uh princess, I want your eyes on me now when I fuck you. I’m gonna show you who daddy is today.¨

You don’t know what kind of adrenaline rush you experience when the words slip out, “That’s rich from the guy who practically creamed his pants when he talked to his own daddy. Why don’t you solve your own daddy issues before starting mine, huh?”

He slaps you so hard you see stars within the setting sun.

It's hard to tell who hates who more at the moment, but regardless, it doesn’t stop Dabi from grabbing your cunt and squeezing hard.

Your lids fly open and your head snaps forward to face him in sheer panic, the moment of bravado gone as the chemicals pumping through your brain catch up to your heart.

¨Wait, no-¨

In one fluid movement, he clenches his thighs on either side of yours, and uses his legs to flip you over. With the same momentum, he grabs your arms and yanks you to the new switched position; him against the wall and you in between his legs, back to his chest.

In another time, Touya would have been secretly overjoyed being pressed against you so intimately like this. It almost felt domestic, not that he knew anything about that word, but it was the closest feeling he could pinpoint to it. His heart was pounding, and he wondered if you could feel it against your back.

He hoped you could.

The vague sounds of Shit-mura noisily inhaling through his broken nose only bothered him slightly, the feeling of his counterpart´s greedy eyes scanning your body and his hold on you barely registered. He was in a zone of his own at that moment, just the two of you, regardless of the circumstances.

Touya didn´t actually think of this as a punishment, no, he thought of this simply as an opportunity to unapologetically make love fuck you and show you how much he wants you who´s boss. Nothing personal, just business. You have to learn how to please your husband eventually right? Might as well let him show you how a woman is supposed to act in front of a man.

It was just pure bad luck for you that you got saddled with a man who wants you to act like a whore for him.

¨Yo, Keigo, help me out here, the bitch won't stop moving.¨ He grunts out, struggling to subdue your flailing limbs. Despite him amping up the temperature in his palms against your stomach and arms, you still continued to try and escape him.

He couldn't bear to do any worse, the tears rolling down your face already made his heart feel funny and he didn't want to feel anything anymore.

Hawks sighed dramatically and unleashed a few of his feathers to aid Dabi. Immediately your wrists were pinned to your sides, your feet weighed down by the sheer force of the plumage. You break down and sob to your heart's content, knowing that you were done for.

Touya feels your body slacken, and he quickly put out the fire in his fists.

¨Watch the show, Tenko. I know you´ve been dying for a piece of this ass for a while, anyways.¨

Hawks jerks Tenko´s chin forwards, ensuring that his attention was on you as Dabi began feeling you up, relishing in how your rib cage shook with heaves as you shook in his arms. He shoved his hands underneath your shirt and lifted the hem up all the way over you, the feather pulling your arms above you for easier access.

A sudden breeze rattled you to your core, but it wasn´t just the weather that made your teeth chatter.

It was the sick desperation and rapt attention in Tenko´s eyes. It was Keigo was looking you over with lowered lids, palming himself and hissing when Dabi took a mismatched finger and pulled your bra cups down ever so slightly, teasing the boys with cleavage and a hint of areola.

¨Touya, please,¨ you squint your eyes shut and turn your head away from salacious gazes. ¨If-if you´re gonna do this, please don't let them watch.¨

¨Nah sweetheart,¨ he simpers as he burns the straps off your undergarment, allowing the sheer protection to fall to the gravel. ¨You wanted to whore yourself out, right? Well, this is what happens to little whores who don´t wanna keep their legs closed.¨ His voice is right at your ear, nipping and suckling the senstivie flesh while his ruthless hands take handfuls of your tits and squeeze them, rub them together, weigh them appreciatively in his scratchy flesh.

¨Fuck, flick her nipples a bit, I wanna see them get hard,¨ Keigo groans out, yanking Tenko´s bleeding head. ¨You like this, you little perv? You like watching your best friend get raped?¨

¨N-no, no I don't! Leave her alone!¨ And even if it wasn´t from Keigo shoving him down and wrestling for his zipper to pull his hard dick out, you would've already known he's lying from the way his bloody mouth opens slightly and drools watching Dabi pinch and roll your nipples.

You keen and whimper as Dabi leans his head down past your neck and lifts a breast up, darting his tongue out and swirling the appendage over your hardening buds. The feathers prove to be useful when they hold your wrists down and prevent you from escaping him.

¨Holy shit, he's actually hard from this. You´re even more fucked up than I thought, Shimura, I´m almost impressed.¨ The beaten boy cries out and pathetically tries to remove his member from Keigo´s tight fist, but obviously is no match for the way the blond fucks the skinny dick in his hand, squeezing almost painfully at his tip. With the help of his other feathers, he frees his own length and teases himself, the red turning white at the tips as they collect his precum.

Dabi says nothing, but keeps his eyes on Tenko as he moves your body up into his lap, settling your ass right on top of his erection. You inhale shakily as he too fumbles to release his aching cock from his jeans, your nose clogged from crying and your voice hoarse from screaming. He lifts your skirt up and hisses in appreciation at the direct contact your panty-clad ass gives, suffocating his dick in your warmth.

The experimentally thrusts lightly a couple times, jostling you up and down and making your tits bounce. Keigo and Tenko look in awe, the feathers and hands moving rapidly in time with Dabi´s thrusting. You try to avoid eye contact with either of them or their leaking dicks.

You feel like your heart is a runny mess, you´re a mess, your hair is fucked up, your clothes are being strewn on the ground and burned away, your skin is being molested, you don´t know what the fuck is going on or what to do.

So instead of pleading, you decide to relent and get this over with quickly. The less resistance you show, the faster you can get Tenko to an E.R.

And speaking of faster, Dabi has stopped grinding against your ass in favor of snaking a hand around and toying with the hem of your panties, holding your skirt up.

You bite your lip and your eye twitches, but you stay silent save for shuddering inhales through your nose.

Taken slightly aback by your lack of complaint, Dabi hesitates for a moment before shaking it off, delving his fingers into your panties, the cloth moving and bulging out from his hand sliding in and out of your folds.

You whimper and jerk your hips minutely in instinct, and he feels it, much to your horror. He grins and takes it as encouragement, circling his digits through your little-more-than folds until he finds the clit by the way you jump at contact.

He presses down, flicks it, circles it, gathering lube from your mutinously throbbing cunt to slick yourself up, thoroughly enjoying your sharp inhales and the way you can´t help moving against the invading actions.

It's only when Keigo calls out that Dabi remembers he's not doing this to please you, he´s doing this to fuck you over just like how you did to him.

¨Pull her panties off, I think our little vouyer here is gonna come soon,¨ he positively purrs as he presses a thumb against Tenko´s jerking hips.

More blood has covered Shimura´s head and body, but even amongst the mess of flesh that was once his face you can clearly see his eyes wide open, pupils blown black with lust, bones actually audibly rattling in their broken sockets as he breathes heavily at your corruption.

He looks insane, more insane than the ones actually raping you. You wonder if you feel more violated by the obvious monsters who told you straight up what they were going to do to you, or the one who swore to be your friend, who swore to never relish in your pain.

You´re brought out of your empty contemplation when Dabi neglects fingering your clit to yank your skirt off your shaking legs. He doesn't even bother with slowly stripping the panties off, impatience overriding better judgement. You again offer little to no resistance as he does so, which riles up the squeamish feeling in his heart.

Now fully exposed to him, his cock stretches another couple of millimeters, looking like it's going to burst from the angry red and purple swelling it adorns.

Keigo whistles and licks his lips, lecherously looking over your tits and exposed pussy all for the taking.

He pulls your hips back and forces you to hover right above his standing cock, causing your knees to shake in exertion. You feel like you´re going to faint any second.

¨You ready doll? Ready to take your husband´s cock for the first time?¨ He cooes, bringing you lower and swiping the weeping slit of his prick against the wetness of your folds. You mewl and try to shift, but it only serves in him pulling you down even more, your labia ever so slightly enveloping the top of his tip.

Your cunt is pounding with rushing blood, and he almost gasps as the sensation flows into both of your sensitive bits.

Leaning forward, he conceals his mouth behind your hair as he mutters, ¨Try to relax for me, it´ll hurt less.¨

You can't care less for his consideration, not when his jerky thrusts feel like they're splitting you in two. All your poor pussy is aware of is the blinding white-hot pain felt on every wall as Touya takes from you what you would not willingly give.

The sounds of your squelching hole-whether from blood, precum, your own tears, who knows-fill the air obscenely. You mistake a glance upwards in your blurry vision and you nearly vomit when you see Hawk´s hand furiously bobbing up and down Tenko´s flushed red dick, and his own being caressed with lust. They look like fucking dogs drooling over your state.

You´re brought out of your horrified reverie when Dabi hisses. He fully sheathes himself inside you and you mewl at the sensation of being filled. Liquid trails down where you two connect, and it feels disgusting as he pulls out only to slam back into you, the cooling wetness of said liquids splashing everywhere and onto the concrete below you.

Your tits bounce up and down as Dabi takes his sweet time pulling out all the way only to give you a moment's reprieve before diving back into the wet cavern. Eyes rolling back into your head at the feeling of his veiny dick thrusting in and out of you, mouth open when he remembers to heat up his hands and play with your nipples, your legs shaking when he alternates to play with your clit, you look like a real slut.

Tenko cums suddenly, crying out and jerking his hips up into Hawks hand when you let out an especially pornographic moan. Ropes of white shoot up like a fountain from his tip and splatter Keigo´s hand and the pavement.

Keigo cries out and laughs in disgust, wiping his soiled hand into Tenko´s hair.

¨You see that? Look how perfect and sweet your little friend is now, Y/N,¨ Dabi pants into your ear, yanking your hair back and forcing you to look at your ex best friend.

¨No, d-don´t wanna look, please let go,¨ you babble as he fucks you stupid.

¨Shut up. Whores don't get to beg for mercy,¨ He sneers as he slaps a bouncing tit, hard.

¨The same should apply for cucks like him,¨ Keigo speaks up and slaps the back of Tenko´s head, sending blood and hair flying off his face.

Dabi stops pounding into you, allowing you to take a merciful breath despite what he said.

¨Yeah? You think so?¨ Shimura snaps out of his daze when he realizes they´re talking about him. He shakes his head frantically and tries to tuck his softening cock into his pants but a red feather is quick to restrain him.

¨Uh-uh, pathetic bastards like you need to get their dues too. We let you off easy with the Shie Hassaiki,¨ He snickers.

¨Come one. Lick this mess up. I'm sure you dreamt about it before, closet perv.¨ Dabi sneers as the blond´s boot sends Tenko flying forwards, almost colliding with your stomach.

You squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling shakily as he gets back up on his hands and knees. You can't bear to look at him right now.

They all disgust you.

¨What did I just say, slut? Eyes open.¨ A patched hand slaps you and your head is snapped forwards mere inches from Tenko´s.

Your gazes meet, but you can't recognize the eyes anymore. They used to belong to a man´s but now they reflect that of a monster´ s.

¨Clean this mess up. Any time this little pussy drools you´re going to eat it up like the roach you are. And if by the time she's done riding and I see a single patch of slick on her I'll knock the rest of your teeth out, got that?¨ Dabi reaches his arm around and pulls the weak boy´s hair forwards until his nose nestles where your filled pussy is.

All you can do is watch as he hesitantly darts his tongue out and licks from Dabi´s engorged dick up to your clit.

¨Fuck you,¨ you whisper to no one and everyone as you let your head fall back, signaling to your finance that you were in enough pain to start up again.

¨You´ve had enough rest. Ride my fucking dick until I say stop.¨ He doesn't need to threaten you this time. You shakily rise up on your knees and twitch when he slaps your ass suddenly. The entire time you lift yourself up, Tenko´s tongue follows up Dabi´s exposed length until it swirls around your clit again.

You feel numb.

Sinking back down onto him is even more excruciating because you can vividly feel every inch of him scraping up against your walls. It doesn't help that a certain tongue is lapping away at you too.

But nonetheless you don´t waste any time bouncing up and down like your life depended on it, which it probably did.

You can hear him panting behind you, his mouth letting out ragged breaths against your ear, his mouth desperately trying to suck galaxy colored hickies into your naked torso as you envelope him.

The feeling of Dabi and Tenko´s breaths puffing onto your clit and nipples would´ve caused the start of a climax if it weren't for Keigo´s unnecessary commentary.

¨Holy fucking shit that´s so messed up. Wait no, move down a bit, lick the base of his dick. Yeahhh, just like that.¨ He walks around the scene with his phone out, obviously recording as he leans in toward some anatomy and pulls away to get the bigger picture at other angles.

And Tenko actually listens. He follows through every salacious order Keigo gives, he even does it a little bit better than someone who's supposed to at least pretend they're not enjoying your ordeal.

You can tell Dabi is reaching his peak when he suddenly grabs your hips in a bruising grip and slams you down on his length, emitting a broken scream from you. He quickly slaps a hand over your mouth and spews filth in your ear as he uses you like a fleshlight.

¨You like bouncing on my dick like a whore? Huh, Y/N? Answer me you little bitch, or are you too cock hungry to say anything else? Not enough dicks here to satisfy you, princess? Keigo, get over here, she looks like she needs more.¨ You wail and scream behind his hand as Keigo eagerly stands over you, his member already being pumped in a hand.

¨That's right slut, you already know what to do, don´t you? I bet a slut like you has practice, ´bet you and the degenerate licking the cum from your pussy did it all the time.¨ You look imploringly at his head ducked between your thighs and even clench them around his head to get his attention. But he refuses to refute the accusations hissed at you in favor of eating your own slick off your puffy folds.

Keigo waits no longer as he seizes your hand and slaps it against his base, silently urging you to stroke him. You wearily look up at him and are faced with a bright camera light trained on your fucked-out face and trembling hand. Knowing that you were stuck, you started stroking, accepting whatever pace he made you take as he lifted his hips up into your cupped palm, his balls smacking against your wrist while you jacked him off.

Dabi´s pants grew louder and more choked as every part of you became occupied with cocks. He still kept a hand over your mouth, bringing it up to his mouth every couple of seconds to taste the tears that slid down from your eyes down to his digits.

¨´Gonna cum, and you´re gonna take it all in that sloppy hole of yours. ´M gonna fill you up with cum and make you fat with my kids, you´re gonna be on your fucking hands and knees for me like a good little housewife aren´t you-¨

The third time he brings his hand away to taste your tears you frantically gasp out, ¨Don´t do it inside Touya, please don´t, not inside I'm begging you to-¨

But you´re cut off suddenly when Tenko teeths at your slicked clit, and you mewl, unconsciously rolling your hips into his mouth even more.

His tongue travels around your stretched labia and around Dabi´ś balls, causing you both to hiss in unison.

¨I'll do whatever the fuck I want. You´re lucky I´m not fucking you up the ass, you ungrateful bitch.¨

His dick starts twitching in your pussy, and you know he's about to burst.

¨I´ll never forgive you.¨ You whisper in defeat, for the umpteenth time.

¨I don't need you to,¨ he merely grunts as he cums inside you with a loud groan.

His body shakes and he pulls your naked back against his torso, hugging you tightly and filling you up. At the same time, Keigo also lets out a string of curses as your hand is doused with milky white substance from his own.

Dabi grabs your jaw and turns you to face him. ¨Who do you love?¨ he purrs, nuzzling your cheek with faux affection.

You force yourself to make it sound faux, because you hate the way he looks so deeply into your eyes.

¨Y-you.¨ ¨That´s a good girl,¨ he whispers and kisses you, hard.

You´re slumped. There´s mixed cum from all four people coating your body, various fluids and anatomy strewn on the concrete around you, and clothes shuffling in place as they regroup themselves.

Tenko slowly crawls back up from his position in front of your cunt, rearing back on his knees and wiping streaming blood from his head. Keigo tucks his dick back in his pants and cruelly wipes the cum that flew on his clothes into your hair, while Dabi dumps you off his lap onto the grating ground.

¨Well, I hope you two learned your lesson today,¨ Keigo simpered with scrunched eyebrows, pouting at you both.

By now the inky haired man has gotten to his feet, brushing his hands off excess grime.

¨That was fun, I should've done this a lot sooner, honestly,¨ he leers at both the figures on the ground, and you refrain from looking anyone in the eyes. ¨I´m gonna take her home. Keigo, deal with this fuckwad while I'm gone. And get him an ice pack, he looks like pure shit.¨ He snorts to himself.

¨How considerate of you Touya. And here I was thinking you didn't have a heart.¨

You and Tenko don´t join in their vicious laughter.

¨Aw come on sweetheart, the worst is over. I doubt you´ll go through that again, since you know what'll happen if you continue to act out.¨ Your fiance crouches down and starts shoving your limbs back into their clothes, ignoring the way you weakly try to evade his callous touch.

Everyone stares in silence as you´re dressed like a child, unable to properly move from the shock and trauma you just endured. It was weird seeing you so quiet. They thought you would´ve still been crying, or at least fighting back now that they no longer had a hold on you.

But you were so, so accommodating as Touya pulled you up to your feet, keeping a firm grasp around your waist to keep your knees from buckling. You kept your head down as he grabbed your backpack from a helping feather´s elevation and slung it over his own shoulder.

¨I´ll catch you later Kei. Keep me updated on our little experiment,¨ he winks before steering you around the corner.

That was the last time you saw Tenko Shimura, your best friend of years.

¨E-experiment?¨ His hoarse voice questions, nasally from the buildup in his broken nose.

¨Yeah, you heard right. You´re our little experiment, Shimura. Truth be told, I always saw the potential in you. After Touya showed me those texts between you and Y/N it just confirmed my suspicion.¨ Keigo plucked a feather out and tossed it to Tenko´s gnarled hand. ¨Here, use this to wipe that shit off your face. I´m not in the mood to drag you to a nurse right now so this´ll have to do.¨

¨Potential? Suspicion? I don't get it,¨ he brings the feather up painfully down the sides of his cheeks, collecting the grime and gore onto the victimized plumage.

The blond grimaces at the disgusting sight and looks away. ¨I mean, I see the potential in you to be one of us. I knew you weren't this goody-two shoes, quiet loser that everyone made you out to be. And you really proved it today, too. I didn´t know you had it in you all the way to eat her cunt like that while she was getting raped, shit was pretty erotic if I´m being honest.¨

Tenko cringes at the brutal choice of words but doesn´t refute them. He stays quiet before Keigo realizes he needs some more coaxing out of his cautious state.

¨Hey, look man, none of that stuff earlier was personal, alright? Touya just needed to prove a point to his bitch, that's all.¨ He shrugs so easily, as if everyone was as delusional as him to believe that.

But maybe Tenko really had snapped, because he turned to Keigo with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, taking in his words.

¨Really? I thought you guys hated me,¨ he mutters, looking down at the soiled feather in his hand.

¨Nah, it's nothing like that. Just gotta prove to us how you´re different, y´know?¨ Hawks slings an arm and wing around Tenko´s bruised shoulder as if to offer him some security.

¨You don´t wanna be a loser anymore, right? Consider this a new chapter in your life, the next big steps.¨ ¨Yeah.¨ ¨Good.¨ They stay like that for a couple moments of silence, drinking in the setting sun.

And then Tenko can´t hold his curiosity any longer.

¨But how do I do that? There´s nothing really about me that´s special...I mean, except for...however the hell I was acting like earlier,¨ he shifts uncomfortably, recalling the thirst he felt when he saw your sopping cunt getting fucked stupid. It was strange, really. The itch in his body had never felt more satiated when he felt like the oppressor once, rather than the oppressed when watching your eyes fill up with tears, knowing that he was the one who caused it. He had never felt that calm and pleased even when the itch was satisfied by your soothing fingers over his scratched-raw skin.

¨That's what I'm thinkin´ too,¨ Keigo thoughtfully holds a hand to his chin, his wings flapping lazily with the cool breeze. ¨I´d say the first step to a new chapter with us is to change that dopey schoolboy name. Tenko Shimura? That sounds like a dog´s name. And you don´t wanna be a kicked around puppy anymore, do you?¨

Tenko vigorously shakes his head.

A new chapter with us.

Us.

He swallows hard, unable to think of a cool name that would be good enough as a new group member. The shock on his body was catching up, so he forfeited his pride and sought help from his recruiter.

“Did you have anything in mind?”

Hawks hums thoughtfully. “Yeah...how ‘bout Tomura? Tomura Shigaraki?” He looks over ex-Tenko’s broken body and nods in confirmation.

“Tomura...Shigaraki,” the new Tomura says slowly, letting his tongue run over his missing and broken teeth in the midst of testing out the new name.

“The kanji for it has to do with change and mourning, something like that I think. It’s pretty fitting, especially since you’re letting go of your past and moving on with your life...right?” Keigo side eyes Tomura mischievously, knowing he was in no place to defy him.

Shigaraki merely looks to the horizon, silently acknowledging the new chapter of his life. Another cold breeze swirls around the two men, but it's not the sting of the wind that brings newfound tears to Tenko Tomura’s eyes.

He shakily rises to his feet with a grunt, clutching his ribs and tilting his head back to avoid breathing in anymore drying blood. Keigo gets up with him, outstretching a hand towards him to steady him on his feet, which Tomura takes.

“I think I need to see a nurse.”

The blond laughs, his wings fluttering with the waves of his voice.

“Almost forgot about that. But y’know, you should be more careful next time you train with us. I don’t think your body can take any more damage than it already has.”

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

You haven’t returned any of Touya’s calls.

You haven’t received any messages from Tenko.

You didn’t get out of bed when you saw a red feather zooming past your window in the morning.

You’ve been home for three days now, huddled under the comforters and only getting up to drink some water like a zombie. Showers are a no-go, it’s unbearable to look at your own naked body anymore. The school kept ringing your parents for your attendance, but the image of you stumbling home and bursting into tears is fresh in their minds; they let the calls go to voicemail.

Tenko’s broken body. His screams of agony. Dabi’s hands all over you, Hawk’s feather holding you down, your body shifted and positioned like a ragdoll-it’s all too much, you can’t face anyone yet. You’re absolutely terrified.

A knock at the door jolts you out of your catatonic state.

“Honey? You want something to eat? We haven’t seen you come out today…” Your father’s voice trails off unsuredly, and after some harsh whispers coming from behind the door and scuffling sounds, your mother speaks.

“You need to move around sweetheart-”

Your body jolts violently when she says that cursed nickname.

“Ahh come on sweetheart, the worst is over.”

“-did something happen with you and Tenko? You two haven’t talked in so long, you usually never argue like this.”

A burning comes up in your chest as your stomach rumbles, bile rising up your throat. You want them to leave. Now.

“I’ll-” you cough and clear your raspy voice from disuse. “I’ll be out in a bit, ‘head hurts.”

“Are you sure? We can come get it for you, we don’t mind-”

“-No, I’m fine. Please just...just give me some time.” You grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut, silently willing them to go away.

It’s only until the sound of their footsteps padding away from your door that you rigidly rise out of bed, reaching for your phone on your nightstand.

2 missed calls from Rumi, 3 text messages from Touya, and nothing from Tenko.

Was he alive?

With trembling hands, you punch in his contact and pull up your messages.

3:04 pm: We need to talk.

You sigh and throw the phone back on the table, running your hands down your face. You just wanted things to go back to normal, when you and him were okay, when you werent engaged to Touya, when they didn’t turn him into a monster who ate you out while you bounced up and down and up and fucking down on your rapist’s-

No. You can’t think like that. You can’t. That wasn’t him, they made him do that.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself in order for your sanity to remain on its barest of threads.

Time moves at a snail’s pace as you find things to do that distract you from checking your messages every five minutes. Soggy leftovers are pushed through your throat, the t.v blares while you watch without actually seeing, your bedsheets are made and remade into perfection...but nothing prevents you in the end from snatching up the device and checking for his text.

Nothing. Absolutely nada.

Just a “read” sign that makes you see red.

Who the fuck did he think he was? He wasn’t the fucking vitcim, you were-

Oh. But he was, just as much as you were.

Anger curls into anxiety as you nibble your lip in contemplation. Was he mad at you?

It was your fault in a way.

You try calling him, no one picks up.

If he was going to flat out ignore you, then you knew there was only one way to corner him for talking.

And corner him you did, when on a bright Wednesday morning you decide to go to school, for nothing else if not hounding Tenko down and seeing if he was okay. You didn’t know if he deserved it, but you just had to see him once.

You wait outside his front gate, idly watching the sky turn from a deep purple to mix in with hues of orange and blue. After a few minutes, the door creaks open and you whip around to face him.

It’s only been a few days since you two last saw each other, but at that moment when he turns and his eyes go wide from seeing you, you feel as though you’ve never known him before. Not his tangly hair that hangs in front of his face, not the new bruises and bandages on various parts of his body, and not the sneer his mouth curls into, that is oh so reminiscent of-

“Where have you been? You didn’t answer your phone…” You trail off confusedly as he practically shoves past you through the gate, ignoring the way you stumble from the impact of his bony shoulder.

“Hey, wait up!”

You do a light jog after him but your heart is pumping at light speed, uncertainty creeping up your spine at his behavior.

“Tenko, stop!”

“It’s Tomura, now, Tomura. Don’t call me by that dopey ass name anymore.” He stops in his tracks and looks down at you as you pant and stare at him.

“T-Tomura? What’s that? And answer my question, where have you been?”

“Yeah, fucking Tomura Shigaraki to you. And I’ve been doing my own thing now. I’m not wagging my tail behind you like a fucking lapdog anymore, got it?” He shoulders his bag and continues to walk past you.

“What the hell are you talking about? Why are you so upset at me, I didn’t even do anything!” You walk backwards side by side with him, desperately trying keep up with his curt pace.

“Oh right, you’re just so innocent aren’t you? I should’ve left you from the start, honestly. Keigo was right.” “Keigo? When did you talk to him? He assaulted you! How could you even face him? “You say that as if he’s the one who made me like this.” He gestures to his barely healing body, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Wait...you’re blaming me?”

“Finally got it Einstein?” He sneers at you. “You did this to me, you made Keigo and Touya beat the shit out of me. If you had just listened to them and left me the fuck alone, I wouldn’t have suffered half as much as I already have.”

You ball your fists and try to swallow the growing bulge in your throat. You thought your sanity would be kept intact for a while longer, but you feel the last threads barely hanging on.

“Tenk-Tomura, please just wait a second,” You say desperately, not even thinking before grabbing onto his shirt sleeve. You want to hold him here forever, you want to go back, you want things to be the way they were before, he can’t leave you alone with Touya-

“I’m glad they showed me how selfish you’ve always been. You never thought of my safety when you kept hanging around me knowing full well that they’d beat the shit out of me if they caught us. And they did! You happy now?” He’s laughing, but he can’t hide the rage from his balled shaking fists.

“No, no please-” you whisper horrified.

But he turns around, barely glancing back at you before bidding his adieu.

“I’m saying goodbye to you as Tenko, and saying hello as Tomura now. Forget we were ever friends, it means nothing to me now. I used to feel like a burden to you, but it’s funny, you seem to be weighing me down more than ever now.”

“But don’t worry. You’ll still see me around. After all, Keigo and Touya seem to be pretty solid guys. And hey, maybe I’ll even be the best man at your wedding coming up.”

Your head is swimming. The sky is almost a clear blue now, the purple having faded away a long time ago. The sounds of strings stretching are brought to a climax.

He’s so close, yet so far away from you that you barely catch the words that come tumbling out of his mouth so easily, so effortlessly you'd think he’d either rehearsed saying them all his life or that he’s had a lifetime of saying it.

“I fucking hate you.”

And the threads snap.

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