#and it was already dark when i started and getting a little brisk but i suited up in my headlamp/big boxy down vest/warm stompy hiking boot

[drchenquill]

The Prince and His Brave... Maid?

Trigger Warning: Violence and Blood

Here is the short story @satohqbanana 😊

Once upon a time in a land before our time. No, that’s dinosaurs. Again.

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there was a young prince. He was the only son of the old royal couple. The whole kingdom rejoiced when they heard of the child’s birth. Finally, after years of trying, they finally had an heir.

As you can imagine, the boy grew up spoiled. He was allowed to do everything. He only had to look at his mother with his beautiful green eyes once, and every wish was granted. The only thing he never got was his father’s love. The king was convinced that his son should grow up to be a strong man, and strong men were not hugged. Strong men were not praised, because it was taken for granted that they did the right thing.

The prince therefore grew up very conflicted. Overwhelmed with love and suffocated by coldness. Then, on his eighteenth birthday, the queen became ill. The entire kingdom was devastated when she passed away a few days later.

She fell ill with a very rare disease. It was called, “I bet my left leg she was poisoned by the jealous lady-in-waiting, but no one believes me.” It was a terrible disease, very prevalent among the queens.

Be that as it may, the king mourned for a few days, forgot his son’s existence, and everyone lived in sorrow and misery.

Years passed and the prince grew up to be a handsome man. He had his quirks, such as a fear of showing weakness or terror of his own father, but otherwise he lived well. And he owed that only to his loyal maid. Me.

Humming and with an energetic swing in my walk, I walked down the long hallway of the royal palace. Destination: the prince’s room.

“Good morning, Mona,” called another servant girl as we passed each other at the same brisk pace. “Good morning,” I called back. I continued humming as another lady carrying a bucket and broom came out of one of the rooms. “The prince went to bed late last night, so be careful,” she called after me. I turned around with a grin and said: “Don’t worry about me, he’s more harmless than he looks.” She laughed and then went on with her work.

I stepped in front of the wooden door and took a deep breath. With a hairpin that I carried with me, I tied my brown curls into a bun and stepped inside.

The bedroom was spacious, which in my opinion was unnecessary for just one person. The large four-poster bed took up far too much space. The wardrobe took up an entire wall. What did he have a wardrobe for anyway? His clothes were all on the floor.

Two nightstands for one man? A waste of money and space.

I stepped over to the bed and ripped open the curtains. There he lay. The disappointment of the whole kingdom, or rather, the disappointment of his father.

His silky blanket had been pulled off him in his sleep, exposing his muscular back. The prince liked to sleep naked, so the blanket, which was only millimeters above his hips, was the only protection I had.

His dark skin shone in the shy sunshine. His right arm hung off the bed, near his clothes, which he had simply torn off yesterday. His jet-black hair was braided into many long braids, spread out on the soft pillows.

A few golden rings had been woven into it, a little royal tradition. With each new year of life, a new ring was added. Now there were twenty golden rings, but they were nothing compared to his father’s eighty-nine rings.

Don’t look at me like that, I told you that the royal couple had the prince in their senior years.

Anyway.

I went to the window and pulled open the curtains so that the beautiful sun could shine in.

“Good morning, Your Highness! Time to get up.”

Like every day, my words were followed by royal grunts and groans as the prince’s sleepy eyes finally opened. “Morning already?” he grumbled. “I don’t want to scare you, but… It happens every day. Every day starts with a morning.” I replied with a pointed smile.

His apple green eyes, the only thing he had inherited from the queen, looked into my dark ones.

“I see you still haven’t choked on your tongue.”

I gave a short laugh and turned to the window, opening it to let in some fresh air. The prince had managed to roll over on his back, with a groan, of course.

”Why are you wearing that stupid hairpin?” he suddenly asked.

”Because you gave it to me.”

“When I was drunk,” he grunted as he slowly sat up. I started picking up his clothes from the floor. “Oh yes, I remember.”

I started to pretend to sob as I mimicked the prince. ”Mona, you’re my only friend. You’re so nice to me. You have-” As red as a tomato, he leaped out of bed in an attempt to grab me.

“Shut up!”

Unfortunately, he tripped over the clothes I hadn’t picked up yet and fell to the ground butt naked.

Tears came to my eyes as I couldn’t stop laughing. “The royal moon is shining,” I managed to say through my laughter.

Before you accuse me of bullying the prince, I just wanted to make it clear that we are great friends. We went through thick and thin and would do anything for each other. Since my mother had also worked here as a maid and the queen wanted children of the same age around her son, we practically grew up together. He was the brother I never had, and I was the sister he never wanted.

Finally back on his feet, he swung his braids back and tried to hide the fact that he had gotten out of bed in a very unceremonious manner.

“So, what’s on the schedule today?” he asked, picking out a pair of pants from the pile on the floor. I shrugged. “I don’t know.” I knew exactly.

“Very funny. I know that my father has set up a schedule for me. That old fart does everything to...” My ears switched off, my bored gaze wandered to the window as he continued to rant about the king.

I got big eyes when I saw a young man in the courtyard of the palace who was just bringing a dark horse back to the stables. The boy was two years younger than us and had recently started working in the royal stables. He had tied his almost black strands of hair in a small bun. His equally dark cat-shaped eyes were gentle and tender as always as he looked at the horse. His porcelain-white skin stood out under his dark clothes.

“Florian, Florian, shut up,“ I said hastily to the prince, beckoning him over to me. Annoyed, he stepped to the window. “What is it?” he hissed. I pointed down. “Parsifal, there’s Parsifal.”

”What?!” The prince almost catapulted himself out the window to stare at the courtyard, where the stable boy was just walking around. A dreamy smile played around his lips, while his dark skin blushed slightly. You see, our dear prince preferred playing with swords to playing with shields.

Unfortunately, this was a fact that would further alienate the king from his son. That’s why no one knew about it except me. No one was allowed to know about his affection for the same sex. But this secrecy was not reason enough not to tease him a little.

“Shall we call him a good morning?” I asked. Florian turned to me in horror, as if I had just gone mad. “No! I’m not dressed, my hair still needs to be fixed. I haven’t even washed my fa-.” “Parsifal! Good morning!” I shouted down. The prince slapped me on the shoulder and the stable boy looked up.

“Good morning, Mona.“ His eyes then met the prince’s gaze and I recognized the same sparkle as in Florian’s eyes. “Your Highness. It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it?” the boy asked enthusiastically. The prince cleared his throat. “Quite pleasant,” he said. I jabbed him in the side with my elbow.

”It became beautiful after I saw you.”

After these cheesy words from his mouth, all three of us stood rooted to the spot. Parsifal blushed, the prince blushed, and I had to stifle a laugh.

“Have a nice day!“ Florian shouted and slammed the window shut. We stood silently in his room. I heard the horse’s hooves, which meant that the stable boy had left, which in turn meant that I could now laugh out loud without any problems.

”‘It became beautiful after I saw you’? That was terrible,” I said, laughing. Florian grumbled and murmured as he got dressed. I’ve known about his affection for the stable boy for quite some time, but our prince is so clumsy when it comes to flirting that I doubt anything will ever happen between the two of them. “Instead of laughing, help me get dressed.” “Coming, your Highness.” Good old Mona had to take the reins.

The prince went about his royal duties, and I went about mine. It was my turn to scrub the floor today, but my duties as a friend called me. Grinning and quick of step, I approached the stables. If Florian couldn’t manage it, then I would inevitably have to do it. I greeted the other stable boys and set out in search of a particular stable boy who held the heart of my prince in his hands. The same stable boy who would probably be found slit open and bleeding to death on the banks of a river if he broke Florian’s heart.

And there he was.

“Parsifal! What a coincidence, running into you here.”

He looked up from the hay he was gathering and looked at me in confusion. “I work here...” With a small smile, I put my arm around his shoulders and pushed him down to my eye level. “Parsifal, Parsifal... just out of curiosity... are your nights cold?” I then raised an eyebrow, hoping he’d get the real question. But his pretty face contorted in confusion. “Not really, the blankets they distribute here are nice and warm.”

Damn. They’re both hopeless. Then I’ll have to work harder.

Still with him under my arm and probably with creeping back pain, I walked a few steps with him. “We are among friends, aren’t we?” I said to him. He nodded thoughtfully. “I think so...” “Good. Friends help each other, don’t they?” He stopped and looked at me with concern. “I have no idea what you’re getting at, Mona, but you’re scaring me.”

I held back from rolling my eyes and explained, “Don’t get all worked up, I’m not up to anything bad.” Now it was him who raised his eyebrow. ”You’re not up to anything bad? You only do bad stuff. You were the one who made Court Lady Marianne leave the court because you took her dog-» I put my hand in front of his mouth.

You don’t need to know that.

«I just wanted to know if you were interested in a blind date.» Parsifal’s lips pressed together as my words slowly sunk into his mind. He didn’t like the idea, which, believe me or don’t, was a good thing. “What’s the matter? Not interested?” I asked. His dark eyes flicked up briefly to the window of Florian’s bedroom.

Oh.

“I don’t know...” Perfect. “Now, now, Parsifal. Think of it as a little distraction. I can feel your heart aching.” He looked thoughtful, which was good, of course. I gave him a gentle shake. “Say yes, Parsifal. You won’t regret it.” He finally nodded, even if it was with a heavy heart.

I slapped him on the chest and stepped back slightly. “Tonight, after dusk, at the “Cat’s Eye”,” I said to him as I started to walk backwards. He nodded with a forced smile. “If you don’t show up, I’ll make sure you end up with Lady Marianne’s dog.” He turned pale and nodded vigorously. Satisfied, I turned away and went about my work.

Don’t look at me like that, I won’t tell you anything. That was between Lady Marianne and me, it’s none of your business.

Humming and singing, I wiped the long hallway that connected the royal family’s rooms. Well, it wasn’t a family anymore, more of a royal duo. Be that as it may, I felt great because I could, maybe, give my only friend a chance at love. He deserved it after all his father had done to him. When I thought about it, wouldn’t it be easier to overthrow the king? I mean, it wouldn’t be my first-

“Mona!”

I looked up and saw a raging prince. In a matter of seconds, I went through my entire day, wondering if I had done something to deserve this royal anger. I couldn’t find anything, so a smile grew on my lips as I held out my hand in greeting.

“Hello, Your High-” The word was replaced by a squeak as Florian grabbed my outstretched hand to pull me along. The broom fell and I stumbled after him like a fawn that had just started walking. He took me to his room, where he loudly closed the door behind us, and then groaned loudly. I opened my mouth, but Florian let out a loud, hateful scream. I froze and pressed my lips together.

“I hate him! That old, wrinkled excuse of a father!” he continued to yell. He grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. This time it was bad, worse than usual. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do except wait for a sign that he wanted me to be involved in this outburst, which, to my surprise, came quickly.

He dropped the pillow and turned to me with large, manic eyes. “I’m going to kill him...” I grimaced and tilted my head slightly back and forth. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t fit into your schedule.”

He ignored my words and started pacing the room. “I’ll sneak into his room tonight and suffocate him.” He looked up and pointed at me. “And you’ll keep watch,” I grimaced but didn’t say anything. “Right! We’ll sneak in and I’ll suffocate him with his own stupid braids. Or I’ll beat him to death with his walking stick.”

He mumbled to himself and paced back and forth. This time he was serious, but unfortunately I had to admit that his plan was terrible. He had to memorize the times of the guards, he had to have a plan B ready, an escape route had to be in place as well. Don’t even get me started on the blood. It’s so hard to get out of clothes.

“Mona?”

“Yes?”

“Am I a bad son?”

I smiled a little as I looked at the desperate expression. “You do realize you’re asking me this after you planned his death, right?” I tried to joke, but he groaned and dropped face first onto the bed.

I stepped up to him, my hand caressing his broad back. “You’re a frustrated and neglected son, which makes you do bad things, but you’re not bad.”

He removed his face from the blanket and looked up at me. “You’re just saying that because you want to kiss my ass.” I had to smirk. Florian’s way of saying thank you had always been something that amused me.

“Of course, why else?” I countered. He laughed and rolled over onto his back. The room fell silent until he finally came out with the problem.

“He wants me to get engaged... to some chick.”

“And you don’t like chicks.”

“Exactly...”

Silence. This room suddenly felt so small. I stared out, up at the bright sun. Florian rolled onto his side, clasped my hip and pressed himself against me. Not a word was spoken as I ran my hand up and down his back. Another problem for me to deal with. But first there was something else I had to take care of.

“Tell me, do you feel like forgetting everything and having some fun tonight?“ I asked him, but only got a grunt in response. “You’ll have a good time, I promise.”

”I don’t care. I just want to stay in my room and wallow in self-pity...” ”I got you a date with Parsifal.”

He sat up abruptly and looked at me with wide-open eyes. He didn’t believe me, I could see that very well from his horrified yet delighted expression. “You-What? Wait... seriously?” Nodding, I stood up and went over to his closet. “I asked him. I didn’t mention who he’ll be going out with, though,” I explained, taking out his best clothes. “He... he has no idea that he’s going to meet me?“ he asked, puzzled.

”Of course he doesn’t. Do you think he would have said yes if he knew he was meeting the prince? You know him as well as I do. The boy has some self-esteem issues.” I turned back to him, smiling, and threw his clothes on the bed.

“But tonight you’ll be able to show him that you’re a great catch.“ Pleased with myself, I put my hands on my hips and expected words of delight, if not applause, but all I got was his smile slowly fading away and being replaced by a sad expression.

”It won’t work... My father.”

Sighing, I stepped in front of him. He was worried about an old bag who, when he was little, liked to hit him with his walking stick because he had missed sword training. He wasted his thoughts on a pathetic old man who would achieve much more under the ground.

“Your father won’t interfere, I promise. I’ll make sure he doesn’t notice.”

Florian’s face showed me that he didn’t believe my words. “He has guards everywhere, and now that he’s desperate to get me engaged, he’ll certainly not let me out of his sight.”

He could be right about that, but I wouldn’t let it happen. I took his face in my hands and said softly, ”I’ll take care of everything. You go on that date and spend time with that boy you’ve been making eyes at since he started here. Got it?”

He swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay... if you say so.”

I kissed his forehead contentedly and said, “Good boy.” Chuckling slightly, he asked me, ”Say, are you mothering me?”

“No, I’m protecting you.”

Evening came and after I had managed to get the prince out of the castle safely so that he could have a nice date, I prepared for my second plan. Humming, I strode through the long, dark hallway. The guards knew me and barely flinched as I brushed past them. I loved it when the castle was shrouded in darkness. Darkness, blackness, silence. That was how I liked it best.

Finally, I saw the door I wanted, but of course there were two guards in front of it. With a slight turn of my head, I realized that there were no others nearby. Smirking, I stepped in front of them. I didn’t have the time or the inclination to memorize what they looked like, because I was pressed for time. I had to get everything done before Florian came back.

“Gentlemen.”

They looked down at me, confused and curious at the same time. They were both taller than me and wrapped in armor. Stupid metallic stuff, I never liked it. It was so loud and clattered with every movement.

“Can we help you?“

One of the knights asked me. His face was almost unrecognizable. The light was dim, as was my interest. But interest was not something that mattered here. My gaze wandered back and forth as I had to make a choice. The knight grew impatient and didn’t take my calmness well.

”Miss, if you have something to...”

A quick twisting hand movement and the loud sound of breaking bones echoed through the dark hallway as the knight crashed to the ground with his head twisted. “I don’t need you,” I said, humming, and turned to the other one, whose mouth hung open. He pulled himself out of his panic when our eyes met. “Don’t move, witch!” he shouted.

I rolled my eyes. Always the same with these humans. With a swift movement, I leaped forward and pushed him against the wall. The clatter of the fallen sword suppressed his pleas as I slowly dozed him off with a gentle hand movement. I then lowered him and looked at my work.

The knight with the broken neck was now useless, so the other had to be taken. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and slipped with ease into the knight’s lifeless body.

When I opened my eyes, I stumbled slightly as I had to get used to the weight of the armor. I shook my body, got to know the muscles by stretching my arms slightly and then smiled contentedly.

I stepped over the body and opened the wooden door.

There he lay, Florian’s personal hell. The king himself. When I saw him sleeping like this, his thick braids circling his wrinkled face, all the memories came back. All the times Florian had cried himself to sleep, all the times he came to me with bleeding calves after a failed sword training session because not even his mother wanted to take care of him.

Getting rid of the mother was a breeze. A little poison, a jealous and impressionable court lady, and the matter was settled.

I was more indulgent with Lady Marianne. I only wanted to warn her after she dared to insult Florian’s skin color. "It would stain the pure green of his eyes" she said. I forced her to eat her dog. Not my best work, as some saw me when I took the dog, but it was worth it. The stupid bitch hardly dared to open her mouth again as she left the court.

Well, I was now standing there planning my revenge when he slowly opened his eyes. Oh, that’s also a way.

I was standing at his feet when he slowly managed to sit up. The moon shone in and illuminated the body of the knight I had borrowed.

“What? How dare you enter your king’s chamber?” he spat at me, irritated. My whole body shuddered just at the thought that I would be allowed to watch as life drained from him once I was done with him.

“Speak,“ he said louder.

Those dark eyes regarded me with suspicion. His thick beard, which adorned his round and wrinkled face, trembled as I drew closer. His fat body could hardly hold him upright as he tried to get out of bed.

”Your Majesty, I have come to deliver an important message.”

He was confused, but I didn’t give him time to think. I swung the sword with all my might. His scream echoed through the entire castle, followed by the impact of his severed arm, which now stained the marble floor with its dirty blood. The king fell to the ground, clutching the stump where his arm had been.

“You used your arm to beat Florian,“ I explained to the sobbing and whimpering wreck. With the strength of my current body, I kicked him in the leg and chuckled at the sound of breaking bones.

”With these legs, you hunted him when you had nothing else to vent your anger.”

He could hardly scream, and I had already turned him on his back. I took the sword, pressed it between his teeth and pushed it down until I could see the tearing of his cheeks.

“And with this mouth, you destroyed his dream of love.”

He gargled as the blood flowed down his throat. The once elegant king now lay beneath me, trying to pull himself away with an arm like the worm he was.

“I’m not done yet, I’ll save the best for last.“ I made myself comfortable on his chest while he whimpered and cried and prayed to some god.

”Stop it, your deity won’t hear you. Your prayers are worth as much as the dirt under my shoes.”

Ah. There it was, that look. The fading hope, the emerging sorrow. I loved it. But as promised, the best was yet to come at the end of the show. My hand stroked over his raging chest. I felt the slow beating of his heart, but unfortunately I wanted it to be pulsating.

I stabbed into it, my hand breaking through skin, muscle and rib. The warm embrace of his flesh made me feel at home. I grabbed the heart and tore it out. The body twitched one last time and then the king was gone. Whatever, everyone has their time and at eighty-nine, he was overdue.

The heart pounded in my hand, which was doused with fresh, warm blood. I stood up and stepped away from the corpse. God, it felt good to do good.

I tilted my head back, opened my mouth wide and swallowed the heart in one bite. I had had better ones, but this was good enough. My eyes closed again and like a breath of wind I slipped out of the knight’s body, which fell to the ground loudly. Now I had to set up the scene.

The knight, tired of suffering under the king’s tyranny, killed his comrade, who would otherwise have gotten in his way, and broke into the ruler’s chamber. There he was seized by so much rage that he fell into a frenzy. Like an animal, he attacked his king and even ate his heart.

Good heavens, what a monster.

I stroked the knight’s mouth with my blood-covered hand to make it more credible. Then I took the sword and cut the knight’s throat.

Horrified by his actions, the poor boy then fell over himself.

What a sad story, I almost cried.

I slipped out, took a few steps away from the body outside the room and cleared my throat slightly. The muscles were slightly relaxed before I pinched my cheeks to make tears roll. Everything was perfect, the only thing missing was a witness. And that’s where I came in.

Take a deep breath.

Then, I started screaming.

The whole kingdom was in turmoil. In one night, two people had passed away. Our king and a poor knight who had only tried to do justice. My poor Florian was devastated. His hatred for his father left him cold about his death, but something in him felt obliged to grieve.

His head on my lap, while my hand gently stroked his shoulder. Not a word had been exchanged since the news had reached him. I could only be a support, a shoulder, an ear.

There was a knock at the door. Florian whispered with a trembling voice: “I don’t want to see anyone.” Slowly I got up to pass on the message. On the other side of the door stood a certain stable boy who shyly asked: “May I...”

I let him in.

He approached Florian, who straightened up to look up at Parsifal. They spoke to each other with their eyes. They understood each other, they felt each other. Without saying a word, Florian wrapped his arms around Parsifal’s hips. He pulled him close and cuddled his face in his stomach.

I stepped out slowly. My heart blossomed with happiness and contentment. My prince had found his love; the kingdom had lost its king, but gained one with a big heart. Florian would become a great ruler and with me and Parsifal at his side, this kingdom would turn a new leaf.

It felt good to do good.

[aeide-thea]

i should probably like. make a list of things i never regret doing and then. you know. do them more.

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"cold feet (literally)" - spencer reid x fem!reader

you wake up in the middle of the night to get a pair of socks

wc: 1k

cw: reader is described as wearing a bra, sickeningly sweet fluff, two idiots in love

Spencer keeps his apartment climate-controlled at a brisk sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit. He likes to be cold, he says, and you generally don’t mind. You run hot anyway, so if, on the off chance you do get cold when you’re lounging around on his couch or perusing his bookshelves, you grab one of the throw blankets Garcia’s knitted for him and wrap it around your shoulders. 

Tonight is different, in that you were not planning on sleeping over. Your relationship with Spencer works so well, in your opinion, because you both like to be independent, so rather than be with each other every moment of every day that he’s home, you orbit around each other like planets. You spend many evenings over at his place, and he spends just as many as yours, but eventually, the other person goes home. 

Not that you didn’t like sleeping in the same bed as Spencer, of course, but the relationship was still fresh, and you both liked that you were taking things slow. Tonight, however, you started a movie with him rather late, and by the time it was over, you were bleary-eyed and your bones felt laden. Spencer was more than willing to offer you the empty side of his bed for the night. 

You arrived in sweatpants and a t-shirt, so you just took your bra off and laid down. Spencer splurged on a fancy orthopedic mattress, so you somehow both sunk into it and rested on top of it like a glass on a table. It was insanely comfortable, and both you and Spencer really were wiped out, so you went right to sleep. 

When your eyes flutter open a few hours, you’re laying on your side. The first thing you notice is that the room is not completely dark. No, in fact, there’s a stream of moonlight, or maybe a street lamp outside, creeping in through the curtains, casting a soft, gray-filtered glow over the room. 

You feel Spencer’s hand loosely on your hip, and his knee resting lightly against the back of your thigh. Your immediate reaction is not to move for fear of waking him, but your feet are icicles. The air around you is cold, too, but the blankets remedy that. You just need socks. 

I am molasses, you coach yourself, moving languidly and carefully to rise into a sitting position. However, you lack the FBI stealth training needed to rise out of bed without waking your boyfriend, because when you look over your shoulder, his eyes are very clearly open. 

There’s a tired yet playful little smirk as he sits up, leaning against the headboard. “Sneaking out already?” he asks, his voice still rich and thick with sleep, and you suddenly wish you’re able to see him like this more often. Maybe this whole going home to go to sleep thing is simply for the birds. 

“No, of course not,” you laugh softly. The mattress creaks as you finally stand up, your bare toes spreading against the soft carpet. As you pad over to his dresser, you shoot him a performative smile over your shoulder. “My feet are just freezing.” 

“Do you want me to adjust the thermostat?” Spencer asks immediately, shifting the blankets off of him so he can, presumably, get out of the bed. 

“No, no, it’s okay,” you insist, holding up your hand. He stops in his place. “It’s just my feet, Spence,” you assure him. The cherry wood creaks when you tug the top drawer open, plucking the first pair of socks you see out off the top. 

Spencer’s mismatched socks are meticulously organized in their correct pairs, as it turns out. You smile to yourself when you realize this means he takes the time each day to couple up an incorrect pair of socks before putting them on his feet. 

You select a pair of purple ones with little kiwi fruits printed on them, affection for the ridiculous man in bed behind you bubbling up in your chest, making it feel as if it’s filled with helium. Like you could float up to the ceiling at any moment. 

You’re still smiling stupidly as you perch yourself on the edge of the bed. You slide his socks over your bare feet, wiggling your toes around for a moment. “Why are you smiling, angel?” Spencer’s asking curiously, and you feel his foot nudge your back. 

You lie back down in the bed, shaking your head softly as you lay on your side and place your head against Spencer’s chest. He takes a second to adjust, slinking down so he’s lying flat on his back, then he tugs you a little closer. 

Your cheek rubs against the soft, worn fabric of his t-shirt. You place your palm down against his flat tummy, and consequently feel his chin press into the top of your head. “What is it?” he asks again. 

“I just think you’re the bee’s knees, that’s all,” you say softly, earning a small chirp of a laugh from your boyfriend. 

“The bee’s knees, huh?” he rakes his fingers through your hair slowly. The action is lulling you like straight melatonin, making you even more tired. “Did you know that phrase actually used to mean something small and insignificant? Over time it developed to refer to something or someone that is greatly admired.” 

You close your eyes, your body relaxing against him as he speaks. “Do bees even have knees?” you ask through a yawn. 

“Technically speaking, no,” Spencer brushes his thumb along your temple, then across the top of your ear, as if he is charting all the smooth parts of you. “But they do have a ball-and-socket joint between their leg segments, which allows them the flexibility to move their little legs around. So when they dance to show their hive mates where the good honey is, they move their legs around.” He laughs softly at this notion, and you feel your weight sink into the mattress. 

“You make me want to dance,” you whisper, smiling with closed eyes against his chest. “So, you’re the bee’s knees.” 

Spencer hums fondly in response to this, then kisses your forehead. “That’s kind of a reach, angel,” he says. “But I think you’re the cat’s pajamas, so who am I to judge?”

[notmyneighbor]

Let Me in ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 3

Word Count ~ 2.5k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ blood and gore, body horror, character death, minor violence, dubious consent, sexual content

Also available on AO3

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

You sit on the side of the bed that had once belonged to Francis Mosses.

The comforter and top sheet have already been pulled down. You lean over to slide out of your low heeled pumps, tucking the pair of navy leather shoes neatly under the bed.

There’s a bible on the nightstand. A worn looking copy. Beside it a glass with a shallow amount of water resting in the bottom, the remnant of a late night attempt to quench thirst, perhaps.

The doppelgänger watches your movements. How methodical each action is. Slow and deliberate. You’re stalling.

He settles beside you and the mattress creaks as the springs are compressed. That odd sort of shimmer you’d noticed earlier outside the security booth outlines his frame for a brief moment. A surge of light and color as the skin ripples before settling. They still weren’t completely able to disguise what they were. All hope was not lost.

Your own fate, however, seems sealed. You lie down slowly, carefully. You feel as if you are laying yourself to rest in your own coffin. Turning your face ever so slightly to see if there is any trace of the man that had once slept here, some lingering scent or an indent from his face. Nothing but the fragrance of clean linen. The imposter moves as if to join you but you halt him, your fingers closing over his forearm. Your first time touching him and not the other way around. “Take your shoes off.”

The creature snickers, glancing down at the scuffed oxfords he’s wearing. Overdue for a shine. “What possible difference does that make?”

“It’s respectful. You never put your shoes where someone sleeps.”

“He won’t be sleeping here ever again.”

You inhale sharply, wincing. “Please just do it.” You can’t say why you’re so hung up on this. Only that it seems the right thing to do. A small thing in a sea of wrongs that you’re clinging to like a life preserver.

“Fine.” He acquiesces, bending to unlace them. There is no care in his actions. Just brisk, impatient pulls to undo the knotted ties. Then he is lying beside you. Your heads sharing the same pillow. Francis only used a single one, apparently. Preferring to slumber lying with his head and neck rather flat. You always used two fluffy pillows, minimum.

You can hear the sound of music starting to play, emanating from the resident’s apartment next door.

Mia Stone, perhaps. The blonde teacher who was Dr. Afton’s fiancée. You instantly recognize the musical artist crooning through the walls: Billie Holiday.

I say I'll move the mountains

And I'll move the mountains

If he wants them out of the way

You would have loved to play this record for Francis. You envision trying to dance in the cramped space of the living room, twirling around in his arms. “Did he really like my fragrance?” You know the creature could lie, of course. He’d say anything to manipulate you and get what he wanted. But you have to ask. Your heart won’t let you avoid the query.

The dark eyes of the pretender regard you. You detect no malice or dishonesty there. “Yes,” he says simply.

You close your eyes, sighing. “What else did he like about me?”

“Your smile, gifted once you were certain it was really him. The way you covered your mouth when you laugh, making some little relieved joke when you passed his identification and entry request back to him each day. The strands of hair that came loose around your face as the day wore on into late afternoon when he returned from his route. The—”

“—Stop. Please.” Tears well in your eyes. They didn’t sound like the kind of details the deceiver would create on his own. There was a note of truth to them. Genuine recollections. He truly was all that remained of Francis Mosses. A man that had been fond of you. You could have been with him, if only you’d been a little braver.

“You asked me to tell you.”

“I know. It’s just overwhelming.”

Like the wind that shakes the bough

He moves me with a smile

“Your kind is so fond of music. Your milkman was always humming. I don’t see the use for it.”

The your wrenches your heart. He wasn’t yours. Never would be. “It’s a way to expression emotions. When words alone aren’t enough.”

“Hmmm.” He reaches out and you flinch. “Why are you fighting this so hard? This is what you wanted.”

“I didn’t want Francis to die.” You pause, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “Why do you want this?”

”Curiosity. An experiment of sorts. There has never been a union between our kind. Not of this nature. A desire to know what it feels like. To see what might result.”

You shudder. An experiment. Using you like some kind of animal for breeding. A mere whim.

He reaches again and this time you force yourself to hold steady, your chin lifting with a short jerk of defiance. Your hair is his goal. Tucking it back behind one ear. Maybe something the milkman had wanted to do. There’s a sudden softness in the doppelgänger’s eyes. As if the human he’d once been was peeking through at you. You find yourself melting again, your defenses coming down.

I say I'll care forever

And I mean forever

He moves closer to you. Inching over across the white fitted sheet. A thumb strokes away one of the tears that has escaped its prison. He captures the other from the opposite cheek, bringing it to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the droplet. “Salt,” he says, recognizing the mineral.

He kisses you.

You’re not sure if it’s better to think of the man you had loved or not. Was it dishonoring his memory or was it a way to keep him present in some vague capacity? There’s no clumsiness this time. He knows the feel of your mouth. The way to shift against you. Tongue mapping past smooth cheeks and dragging along the carpet of muscle at the base of that maw. Maybe it was better to pretend this was Francis after all. You cup the back of his neck, fingers teasing the edges of his milk chocolate tresses. Curling slightly on the ends. It would be time for a trim soon. Would have been. The illusion you’ve created is crumbling again. Your lips falter, your hand dropping away.

Crazy he calls me

Sure, I'm crazy

Crazy in love am I

“Sweetheart,” the invader murmurs, tasting along your jaw, your neck. “I like the way you smell.” Speaking for himself, not Francis. You hear the sharp intake of air. The hand that had been casually laid across your shoulder slides down until it reaches your breast, gently kneading that globe through the layers of your bra and blouse. “Does this feel good?” His voice is octaves lower than you’d ever heard from the milkman. Slightly raspy and sultry, not unlike the singing voice that permeates through the wood and plaster behind the bed. You don’t dare answer, merely whimpering a little and he seems to take this as an affirmative response.

His hand leaves your breast and finds the top button of your shirt. Always sensible, pure white, part of the uniform standard the company requires. Another threaded plastic disc is pushed through the hole. He works his way down until all those that are exposed have surrendered, the remainder still tucked within your skirt. His fingers part the edges of the fabric encasing your torso, peeling them back to reveal the white satin brassiere beneath. He caresses you briefly through this slick material before tucking inside the cup until he brushes across your areola. Your nipple peaks beneath his ministrations as his lips move back to yours. He is surprisingly gentle, lightly pinching and rolling the aroused tissue. Your body betrays you, responding to the creature’s touch. You should be ashamed, disgusted. Instead you find yourself wanting more.

“Off,” he murmurs impatiently, plucking at your bra before his hand departs your chest. You struggle to sit up and he allows it, watching you pull your blouse free from your skirt and unfastening the cuffs before sliding it off your arms. With a swift gesture borne of long practice you easily pinch and release the hook and eye closures resting along the center of your spine, the cups immediately folding down over the underwire, the straps drooping over your shoulders.

The doppelgänger assists you now, sliding the brassiere off the rest of the way, exposing your chest to him. Your cheeks are pink, flushed like the nipples he’s toying with again, his head bending to suckle at one and a lick of flame sears your core. This is part of the invasive species’ learning process, you think. Taste as important as touch. His mouth moving not with the sole purpose of your pleasure in mind, but as a means to explore flavors and textures. Cataloguing. More of humanity’s secrets unveiled.

There is a song you don’t recognize playing next door now. Muffled voices. You’d had no idea the walls were so thin. Francis had never complained.

You’re shoved back down onto the pillow. His mouth wanders, back up to sample a collar bone, the hollow at the base of your throat, then dips in between your breasts and tastes the skin of your abdomen. You wonder if he can detect the floral soap you’d bathed with that morning, the traces of lotion you’d applied during your hygiene routine.

“I like this,” he says, his breath warm on your body. “You’re so soft. Smooth. Not like…I’ve never taken…” It had often been debated if there were sexes in their species. How they propagated. There was still so much unknown. Was there a reason he’d only chosen men to replicate? Was it simply because he was male himself? You could not explain how you knew it, but there was something distinctly masculine about him. Authoritative. Blunter than a woman would be. A lifetime of being raised to respect decorum had been firmly ingrained in you. Society valuing a woman who knows her place. Taught to be demure, deferring to the wisdom and guidance of their male counterparts. Serving and obeying, like you’re doing now.

The imposter returns his attention to your face. Licking your mouth back open. He likes this, you think. All of what you’d shared thus far, but perhaps the kissing best of all.

The background melody silences and you think you detect the front door opening and closing. You wonder if the couple will be going out to an early dinner. Curious when they find there is no one guarding the building. But not alarmed. Not yet.

Your skirt is being lifted, polyester dragged upward after the copycat’s hasty reach downward to gather the hem. Immediately sliding back down, stroking over your exposed thighs that are clad in nylons that stop midway across each of your upper legs. Nothing fancy, just utilitarian features in a shade of nude slightly more tanned than your own complexion. He nudges against the seal you’ve created by pressing your legs close together. “Let me in, sweet girl.” An echo of what he’d said earlier in an attempt to gain access to the building, now seeking entry into you. You feel your limbs parting for him nearly as promptly as you’d opened the door.

The pretender works his way back up to the fork of your body, teasing along the crotch of the white panties. You gasp and he smiles against your lips. His palm drags over the fabric until his fingers find the elastic waistband and he dips beneath it, running overly the neatly trimmed hair on your pubic mound, following the curve of that padded flesh until your sex is palpated.

Another gasp and a moan escapes you. “So wet,” he remarks, fondling the pink lips, parting the petals with his middle finger to slide through the slick arousal your body is creating, working the lubricant up and down, passing over the hooded nub and then delving back towards your entrance, where more fluid escapes.

It feels good and yet it doesn’t, his fingers too rough and just shy of where you need him. You squirm and wince at the harsh handling of your clitoris and he pauses, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Show me. Show me how you like to be touched.”

You reach down cautiously, guiding his fingers to one side of your sensitive bud, lightly pressing and rolling a fingertip so that your clit is ground slightly against the bone beneath. Alternating now, reaching back down to gather more of your slick before spreading it over that hooded button, a few direct strokes applied before beginning the process again. He replicates your actions and your body responds immediately, a hum of pleasure heating you. You close your eyes and you think of the milkman, the real one, with his kind smile and his tired eyes.

“Francis.” The name escapes your lips and you freeze, the rocking motion of your hips against the imposter’s hand abruptly ceasing. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Alarmed by how easily you’d allowed yourself to give in to the desire, accommodating this make believe passion.

“It’s alright, love. It’s me. I’m here.” His tongue laps at your ear, at the sensitive patch of skin behind it. You shiver and resume grinding against his fingers, letting yourself be deluded once more, your hand curling over his forearm.

“Francis,” you say again, hoping he can forgive you, in whatever form he now occupies, if he is saved as his faith professes he would be, finding redemption and peace, somewhere far from your sinning body that writhes in pleasure from his murderer’s touch.

You push against his hand and he allows it, applying force against the hollow cavity that leads to your womb. “Let me in,” he breathes, and you feel a finger invading your body, shoving through the narrow confines of that muscular tunnel. Withdrawing and spearing again, the digit saturated with your arousal. You moan and lift your pelvis to meet him. Curling inside, massaging that dip of spongy tissue. Crooking each time he enters as if he is leading you forward, beckoning, his thumb drawing circles over your clit. You feel as if you’re on the edge of a chasm, teetering on the rim, about to drop forward into heat and darkness. Keening now. Thighs tremoring violently. Your face turns and your teeth sink into the pillow. “There you go, love. Give it to me. Give in to me.”

The coiling pressure within you snaps and you find release at last, the fabric clenched in your teeth doing little to muffle the sound of your orgasm. You’re drenched in sweat, the aftershocks of your appeased nerves still sizzling through you. The doppelgänger cradles you through all of it, holding you as you ride the waves that exhaust your limbs, making you feel boneless and limp.

“Francis.” It’s a yearning plea, a futile prayer, answered by the thing that is not him, but masquerades as such, crooning to you, whispering false promises, draping you in synthetic affection, a lie you want so desperately to believe.

[kbwrites]

Up In the Clouds Ch.4

synopsis: you're friends arguing reaches a breaking point... for you. what will you do when you find out the real reason they've been fighting?

prev ← → next

⚝content: sugusato x f!reader, sfw, satosugu arguing, but they're arguing over youuuu

⚝wc: 1.4k

Suguru and Satoru always fought. From the year you’d known the duo, that much was obvious. Petty arguments and stupid disagreements were rampant in your trio. But, at the end of the day—usually forced by you—they would make up. Today, however, there was a disquieting air around them, an unfamiliar tension that gnawed at your peace of mind.

You three were in the courtyard for lunch, a place usually filled with the sounds of your laughter. You and Suguru ate bentos while Satoru dug into a sugary donut.

But something was... different.

No annoying quips from Satoru.

No heavy sighs from Suguru.

Just complete and utter… silence.

The courtyard, bathed in the soft afternoon light, felt oddly still. The rustling of leaves and distant chatter of other students did nothing to alleviate the growing unease. You shifted in your seat, the silence pressing down on you like a weight.

“Did Yaga yell at you two or something?”

Suguru glanced up, his hazelnut-colored eyes narrowing as he finally spoke. “No… it’s not that.”

Satoru  scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically behind his dark sunglasses. “Yaga yelling would be wayy easier to deal with than Mr. Perfect.”

The raven-haired teen’s jaw clenched. “Oh, I’m Mr. Perfect now? That’s rich coming from someone who thinks they know everything,  Satoru.”

“At least I don’t try to control every little thing” Satoru shot back, his words muffled by the mouthful of donut. ”Not everything has to be done your way, Suguru.”

“Maybe if you used your head a bit more, we wouldn’t end up in half the messes we do,” Suguru retorted, his tone icy.

You sighed, feeling like a mediator between two stubborn children.

“Guys, seriously, what’s going on? This is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous is Suguru thinking he can tell me what to do.” Satoru snapped, his voice tinged with frustration.

Finally, you’d had enough. The frustration and tension had reached a breaking point. Without saying a word, you stood up, grabbed your lunch, and turned to leave. The soft thud of your bento box as you placed it into your bag seemed to echo in the silence that followed.

Satoru’s blue eyes widened as he noticed you standing. “Wait, where are you going?”

Suguru’s head snapped towards you, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. “What—?”

But you were already walking away, your footsteps brisk and determined.

“Great, just great! Now ya made her leave because you’re too scared to tell her the truth!”

Suguru’s face flushed with anger. “Me? You’re the one who turned this into a contest and made it impossible for me to even tell her how I feel!”

Satoru shot a glare at his best friend, his voice laced with bitter irritation.

 “Well… I don’t care!”

A week. Seven long days without your best friends. They avoided each other entirely, which was pretty hard to do considering how small the school was.

The hallways almost fell deafening silent without the pair’s obnoxious laughter echoing through. According to Nanami it was “The best week of my life”.  But for you, it was a slow descent into madness. The absence of your two best guys, who were always there to bug you and share in the chaos, was unbearable.

Hell, even Yaga was starting to get worried.

Shoko wasn’t much help. Completely jaded by the routine of arguments and breakups between the second years, she shrugged off the situation with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “They’ll make up… eventually.”

You were never one to just sit back and let situations play out. So you whipped out your phone to set your plan in motion.

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(Y/N)                                          (Y/N) Hey, movie tn? My place.    Movie night 2nite? Sugu                                          Toru Sounds great. I’ll bring the movie.     Heading 2 the store!    You sigh in relief. They WERE going to make up today, whether they liked it or not. Your phone buzzes again. Sugu                                         Toru Hey… just us right?                    Me n you right (Y/N)?                        (Y/N)                          Yep! Just us!

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You prepared your dorm, fluffing out the pillows, grabbing your softest blankets. Hiding any sharp objects. The soft glow from the tv and your fairy lights set a cozy atmosphere. You only hoped that it would help soften the tension between them.

Knock Knock

Your ears perk up at the noise, you stood up, smoothing your clothes as if they could somehow help soothe the growing knot of anxiety in your stomach. As you opened the door you saw Suguru, leaned casually against the doorframe, his raven hair falling in soft waves around his face. His kind eyes tinged with nervousness.

“Hey Suguru!” Your voice warm as you greet him, stepping aside to let the taller boy in. He settled into his favorite spot, grabbing the blanket he’d left here one too many times. You settled next to him as he pulled out four DVDs showing you the selection.

“I haven’t seen any of these yet actually.” He says looking at you.

As you both discussed the movies, you heard another knock at the door. You quickly stood up, hoping Suguru wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. 

“Hmm? Shoko Coming?”

“Not… exactly.” You laugh nervously as your hand slowly reaches for the doorknob. As the door inches open you see Satoru, his white hair slightly damp from his (never-ever missed 8pm Shower). He greets you with a smile, striding into dorm. Immediate irritation flashed across his face when he made eye contact with Suguru.

Their eyes narrow at each other, then at you.

“What’s HE doing here?”

You place your hands on your hips; side-eyeing Satoru to sit down. He begrudgingly takes a seat next to the raven-haired teen, pouting.

“We are watching a movie. And you’re both staying.” Your normally soft voice, firm as you glare at the two older teens.

They both shoot each other glares before sighing. You had won… for now. You took your place, right in between them.

You tried your hardest to just watch the movie, but it was so boring. Usually Suguru picked out pretty decent movies, but this documentary was NOT a decent movie. You stole glances at your friends; if you weren’t so pissed off at them you would’ve been blushing at the prospect of being sat between two attractive guys. 

Their close proximity made your heart race. You could feel the heat radiating from their bodies, and every small movement seemed amplified in the quiet room. Your hand reached into the popcorn bucket. As the pair saw your hand go in they both reached in with you, hoping to touch you.

Both flinching as their hands brushed each other’s instead of yours. They shot each other a glare before turning their attention back to the TV. A minute passes before Satoru speaks.

“I could’ve picked a better movie with my eyes closed.” The white-haired teen mumbles, shoving popcorn into his mouth.

“Just watch the movie, Satoru.”  Suguru replied with an exasperated groan, though his eyes never left the screen.

“This shit is gonna bore me to death.”

“That isn’t such a bad idea—”

You sigh heavily, grabbing the remote to pause the movie. You stand up, looking down at the two sorcerers.

“Alright. What the hell’s going on with you two?” You demanded

They both looked away, avoiding eye contact. Satoru crossed his arms, pouting even more, while Suguru ran his hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

You tap your foot, glaring down expectantly.

Suguru glanced at Satoru, their eyes meeting in a brief, intense exchange. Satoru’s nod was almost imperceptible, but Suguru seemed to take it as a cue. He drew a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

“(Y/N)...”

“We’ve been acting like this because, well..”

“We’re both...” Satoru continued.

“In love with you.” Suguru finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, stunned by the confession. The room felt suffocating, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. You stared at them, trying to process their words. Your breath hitched, struggling to keep up with the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. It felt like a storm was raging within the confines of the small room, each thunderous heartbeat echoing off the walls.

“You’re… what?” you finally managed to say, your voice trembling.

Satoru stood up, his piercing blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless.  “We’re in love with you, (Y/N). Both of us.”

Suguru’s nod was slow, almost hesitant. 

 “And it’s tearing us apart.”

taglist: @4evahevah @angelofdarkness2 @iangeeluv

@isishsoskdjsk @yunho-leeknow @starriesworlds @hiblue123158 @n3ptoonie

[poisonlove]

study Session | c.s

words: 13k

Part 1

"When are you going to have Professor Miller read your work?" Cairo asks curiously.

We were in Cairo's room, a cozy space with emerald green walls, a queen-sized bed in the center, and a sturdy wooden desk a few steps to the left. Despite having a window, the room was dimly lit, almost immersed in darkness.

but the acoustics were impressive.

"Don't even think about it," I say, eyes widening at her suggestion, feeling panic rising within me.

"And why not?" Cairo asks with a small smile on her lips, her eyes focused on the notebook she was writing in with a concentrated expression.

With her free hand, she brings the cigarette to her mouth, inhaling slowly.

She was damn sexy when she smoked, well, she was always sexy, but her charm was amplified by her natural beauty. Her sparkling eyes, long dark hair cascading gracefully over her shoulders, charming smile... Her intelligence and demeanor were captivating and intriguing at the same time. My crush on Cairo had grown recklessly in these days, but at least now I wasn't a bundle of nerves all the time; we could chat without my cheeks turning as red as fire every time she smiled at me.

I glance at my notebook, tapping the pen on the paper searching for some kind of inspiration. The study sessions had been going on for two weeks now, and my assignments were less dreadful than usual. Professor Miller had assigned us a task where we had to choose a book we had been studying over the past few months and try to immerse ourselves in their story.

As usual, a stupid assignment.

I snort loudly, and Cairo looks at me sideways, a smile playing on her lips. "Are you struggling?" she asks amusedly, her hand stopping on her notebook's paper.

"I don't know how to do it... Why the hell did I choose Zeno's Conscience?" I say exasperatedly, hands sinking into my cheeks as my mind works on possible solutions.

"Mmmh... I see," Cairo raises the corners of her lips and tosses the cigarette butt into the ashtray next to the bed.

"Aren't you struggling? You've been writing continuously for 10 minutes," I ask impatiently, a little jealous of her incredible qualities.

"I actually finished the report yesterday," she confesses quickly, shrugging.

My eyes widen, and my jaw nearly drops to the floor. "What? Then what the hell are you writing?" I say in shock, surprised that Cairo had already finished the task that I had barely started.

"A personal report," she says absentmindedly, looking at her notebook.

Curiosity takes hold of me.

Without hesitation, my instinct urges me to quickly reach for Cairo's notebook. Her expression transforms into a mix of surprise and nervousness as my hand grabs the notebook firmly. "Give it to me," Cairo says nervously.

I can sense her worry in the way her body leans towards me, eager to get the notebook back from the black cover.

I lay back against the mattress, keeping a certain distance between me and Cairo, whose chest draws closer to mine as she desperately tries to retrieve her notebook. With one hand, I hold the notebook open, while with the other, I keep Cairo at bay.

"Dream," I pronounce aloud, smiling at the surprised expression on Cairo's face.

Cairo hurriedly sits on my lap, her face tense with anxiety as she reaches for the notebook. I can feel the warmth of her body close to mine, but her worried expression warns me of the tension in her soul. Without hesitation, Cairo drops the notebook to the ground with a brisk motion, while her hand suddenly lands next to my face in an attempt to maintain balance. Her black hair brushes against my cheeks, the sudden contact and the rustle of the pages falling to the ground adding to the agitation of the moment.

A flash of anger appears in Cairo's eyes as she abruptly rises from my body to pick up her notebook from the floor. I can see the tension in her movements as she clutches the notebook tightly to her chest.

"Are you out of your mind?" she exclaims angrily, her voice filled with frustration and disappointment.

My heart races in my chest as I try to understand what happened.

My mind is confused, and the air around us seems tense. I sit on the bed, trying to calm the agitation growing within me, while Cairo holds the notebook tight against her chest, her expression hard and angry.

"I didn't mean to..." I start to say, but the words fade into nothingness as I try to find an explanation for what happened. My mind is in turmoil, and the feeling of guilt weighs heavily on me as I try to confront Cairo's anger.

Her sharp voice brings me back to reality.

"Is violating my privacy a joke to you?" she asks sarcastically, her tone as cold as ice. I blush with embarrassment, and my words get stuck in my throat as I try to find a justification for my actions.

"What did you read?" Cairo asks, her voice now colder than ever.

Her posture is rigid, her shoulders tense, and her jaw clenched, and I suddenly feel small and defenseless in the face of her anger.

"Nothing, I swear," I stammer nervously, trying to placate her fury with my trembling words. "It was just a joke... I didn't mean to..." I continue to say, but my apologies seem to fall on deaf ears in the face of her rage.

The tension in the air is palpable as I desperately try to find a way out of this difficult situation.

"What's going on here?" someone suddenly asks.

We both turn towards the entrance of the room and see Winnie, Cairo's roommate, looking at us with confusion. Winnie has a raised eyebrow as her gaze shifts between Cairo and me, filled with suspicion.

"Nothing special," Cairo replies coldly, heading towards the window. "Y/n was just leaving," she adds confidently.

Winnie seems perplexed, but decides not to delve further. "Alright then. Sorry if I interrupted something," she says with a hint of embarrassment, sensing the discomfort in the air.

"You didn't interrupt anything," Cairo replies angrily.

"Um... Bye Cairo," I say timidly but she continues to silently stare out the window, lost in her thoughts.I sigh and leave the room, feeling terribly guilty.

(...)

"Professor Miller, can I talk to you for a moment?" I ask timidly, biting my lower lip nervously.

The professor nods and smiles weakly, looking at me with curiosity as I approach his desk.

I can feel Cairo's gaze behind me, but I'm too scared to meet her eyes. I know she's still angry with me. However, I hope that what I'm about to do might make her forgive me, at least a little.

"I would like to talk to you about something," I say timidly.

"Is it about Friday's assignment?" he asks curiously, his brown eyes trying to read mine.

I shake my head.

"I would like you to read something," I say, my body tensing with tension."Oh, what a surprise," he smiles widely, showing his white teeth.

I still feel Cairo's gaze.

"I wrote it a while ago," I say, grabbing the folded sheet I had put in my pocket. "I've always been afraid to let anyone read it... but I would like to ask you to read it when you're alone," I add timidly.

The professor seems somewhat surprised, but nods understandingly. "Alright, I can understand. It will be between us, I promise," he assures, accepting the sheet.

With a sigh of relief, I leave the room, ignoring Cairo's gaze, but this time with a new determination to pursue what matters to me.

Five long days have passed since I last spoke to Cairo.

Her absence has become a constant weight on my shoulders, and anxiety torments me as I wonder if I will ever have the opportunity to clear things up with her.

Meanwhile, I receive comforting news from Professor Miller. He informs me that my work has truly impressed him and that the assignment on Zeno's conscience was outstanding. His support and compliments give me a sense of relief and gratitude, partially alleviating the burden of tensions with Cairo.

With a sigh of relief, I reassure myself knowing that I have passed his class, but deep down I know that there are more pressing issues I need to address.

I find myself talking to some friends, joking and laughing to distract myself from the stressful situation.

"Hey, everything okay? You seemed a little nervous earlier," Emma asks curiously.

"Oh, yeah, everything's okay. Just a little hiccup, nothing to worry about," I smile nervously.

"Did you hear what happened in class today? It was really funny!" Joy chimes in, smiling at me.

"No, what happened?" I ask, happy for her enthusiasm.

We continue talking, trying to keep the atmosphere light even though my mind is still worried about the situation with Cairo. Then, I see Winnie approaching us with a serious expression and she calls me aside.

I glimpse a shiver of concern in her eyes and wonder what she might mean.

"Cairo wants to talk to you... Can you go to her room?" Winnie asks me, her voice tinged with concern.

My mind goes into overdrive as I try to understand what Cairo might want from me. With a knot in my stomach, I reluctantly nod. "Yes, sure. I'll go to her right away."

I head towards Cairo's room, trying to mentally prepare myself for the impending conversation.

Anxiety grips me as I approach the door, but I decide to face the situation with courage.

I lightly knock on the door and wait with my heart pounding in my chest.

"Go ahead," Cairo says with a calm tone of voice.

I open the door and see Cairo standing near her bed, holding the notebook in her hands. "Did you want to see me?" I say with curiosity and nervousness.

Cairo bites her lower lip nervously and sighs loudly. "I... I wanted to apologize for my reaction last time," she says timidly, embarrassed.

"I overreacted," she adds almost in a whisper.

I feel a wave of relief and gratitude as I look at her. "I also wanted to apologize," I reply sincerely, feeling the weight of tension dissolve between us.

"I shouldn't have taken the notebook without permission," I say with embarrassment.

Cairo smiles weakly, making butterflies flutter in my stomach.

"By the way..." She begins, hesitating, "I wanted to read you something..." She says nervously.

"You're not obligated," I say gently, trying to alleviate her anxiety.

"No, I have to do it," Cairo says firmly, sighing loudly. "Just... Don't comment until I'm finished," she says anxiously, looking at me with pleading eyes.

I nod and wait for Cairo to gather courage.

"In the silence of the night, among the yellowed pages of my favorite books, I found refuge. I have always been a dream seeker, a solitary traveler in the realms of imagination, but even in the deepest solitude, I found an inexhaustible companion: knowledge."

Cairo's voice resonates in the darkness of the room, warm and enveloping. It's like a gentle breeze, delicate yet determined, carrying with it a note of serenity and understanding. Her tone is calm and tranquil, but manages to convey deep emotion and subtle vulnerability.

"For years, I wandered among the words written by illuminated minds, hungry for wisdom and eager to understand the world around me. But in my journey, I encountered not only the light of knowledge but also the shadow of my own uncertainty."

Cairo sighs loudly.

"My intelligence, a gift and a curse at the same time, has created a labyrinth of doubts and fears within me. I often felt lonely, lost in my thoughts, and unable to find a kindred soul who could understand the complexity of my mind."

I can perceive a slight tension in her voice, a controlled intensity that betrays her inner emotion

"I envisioned my perfect companion, a man who could peer into me and see beyond my insecurities. But time brought disappointments, and the void in my heart grew, becoming a painful echo in the corridors of my soul. Yet, in the darkness of my despair, I found a sudden light. It wasn't the man I had dreamed of, but a girl with bright eyes and a gentle smile. In her, I found an understanding I had never known before, a bond that transcended gender and convention."

Cairo's grip on the notebook becomes ironclad.

"In her words, I found comfort; in her embrace, I found security. And so, my dream of a perfect companion transformed, no longer an ideal man but a hope embodied in a brave and compassionate girl. Now I know that my journey is no longer solitary, that I can face life's storms with the courage of one who knows she is not alone.

Thank you...

because thanks to this assignment Professor Miller gave us, I finally had the chance to get to know you better. I must admit that, even though I would never have said it before, I've liked you for months. Since I first noticed you in class, with your infectious smile and your eyes shining with curiosity."

Cairo smiles widely, her eyes becoming teary as she reads.

"But I was so scared, so convinced that I was too broken, too strange to deserve your attention. I was afraid of boring you with my insecurities, of taking away your smile with my fears. And so, I limited myself to watching you from afar, trying to hide what I felt and hoping you would never notice my presence."

Cairo's jaw trembles, her voice wavering.

"But now, thanks to this assignment, I had the chance to get to know you better, to discover your world and to understand that maybe, just maybe, I'm not as broken as I thought. And even though I don't know what the future holds for us, I'm grateful for this opportunity you've given me, for allowing me to get to know you better and to discover that maybe, just maybe, there's still hope for me.

Thank you."

Cairo looks up at me with determination, her eyes shimmering and red from crying. I just wanted to go to her and hold her against my chest until she calmed down.

"If you're listening to these words, it means I've finally found the courage to say what I feel. I don't expect you to reciprocate my feelings, but I wanted you to know how important you've been to me on this journey."

Cairo's voice continues to break, sobs threatening to break through.

"Thank you for giving me the chance to live this experience, to add a new chapter to my life that I never thought I'd write. You've been a turning point, an inspiration, and for that, I'll always be grateful. This moment will remain a precious memory in my mind. Thank you for being part of this experience, for making me feel alive and brave."

Cairo smiles widely, her lower lip trembling, her shoulders shaking more.

"Even if our journey together ends here, I know the lessons I've learned from you will stay with me forever. Thank you for teaching me to find the courage to be honest with myself and with others."

After Cairo finishes reading, she looks at me with teary eyes, but a delicate smile forms on her lips. I feel a weight on my chest, a mixture of gratitude and emotion that makes me want to cry.

Without hesitation, I quickly approach Cairo and wrap my arms around her shoulders, embracing her tightly. Cairo is carried away by the emotions, and we both burst into tears, our tears mingling in an intense and liberating hug.

After a while, Cairo calms down, but she still keeps her arms around me. Cairo looks up and gazes at me gently.

"Just to make sure... Does it speak about me?" I ask timidly, biting my lower lip. "If it's not you, who should it be?" she asks, chuckling and rolling her eyes at my comment.

"Professor Miller?" I say mischievously, and she nudges me lightly.

Cairo continues to hold her chin up, silently asking me something. With my heart pounding in anticipation, I lean in slightly and press my lips against hers, initiating the long-awaited kiss. My hand delicately rests against her cheek, caressing it gently as we let ourselves be carried away by the intensity of the moment. Cairo pulls me closer, making me smile during the kiss.

As the oxygen dwindles, we reluctantly break the kiss, our foreheads resting against each other. Our smiles widen as we gaze into each other's eyes with affection and gratitude.

"You've taught me so much too, my Muse," I whisper softly, feeling the warmth of her breath against my face.

Cairo smiles again and pulls me towards her for a long and much-desired kiss.

@classypauli

@thebloomonster

[megalony]

This Is Fate- Part 6

I'm so happy to be posting the next part of my Dark! Evan Buckley series, thank you for all the amazing feedback.

I can't wait to know what you all think to the little twist.

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Evan Buckley Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Summary: Eddie is surprised when his little sister comes to LA, pregnant, and asks to stay with him. She needs a fresh start away from her ex, but things take a bad turn when she finds out her ex works with her brother. And he won't let her go so easily.

Enjoy.

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

With his bag shrugged on his shoulder, Eddie trudged across the car park towards the main entrance of the station.

He could hear the same mantra he had been telling himself all night, going round and round in his head like a broken record.

Don't start a fight. Don't let him get to you. Play nice, for everyone's sake.

Those words circulated around Eddie's head like it was the only thing he could understand. He couldn't start a fight with Evan at work. He couldn't let anything Evan might say get a rise out of him or gain a reaction. Eddie had to be the bigger person and play it safe.

He didn't want the rest of the team finding out that Evan was the baby's father. If the team knew, they would try and push Eddie and Evan closer together and make them seem like brothers. Like before. Before this mess got in the way. And Eddie didn't want to be anywhere near Evan. If the team knew, it would be worse for (Y/n). They would try and see her around Evan or he would try and get closer to her, like the leech he was starting to become.

If no one knew, Eddie could handle this situation himself. He could either help Evan to be himself again, to be calm and considerate around (Y/n) rather than overbearing and controlling. Or he would have to do something like involving the police in order to keep his sister and niece safe.

Everything was going to be easier if the team were none the wiser to what was happening.

Eddie took a deep breath as he walked into the station, preparing himself for whatever mood Evan was going to be in. He had no idea whether his former friend was going to be cool and brisk or if he would try and cosy up to Eddie and act like they were still the best of friends.

He was a little taken back to find Evan was already here. Eddie was early, which meant that Evan was even earlier.

Evan was stood between the truck and the ambulance, a tender smile on his face and his arms folded over his chest as he stood with the team. But what caught Eddie's attention was the fact that Evan had his uniform on, but his bag was slung over his shoulder and remnants of grime and dirt were stuck to his face.

How long had be been here? Had he already started his shift? Why did he look like he had been here for hours?

Eddie didn't miss the way that Evan shivered when he caught sight of him. Was he finally starting to relent and give in? Was he finally realising that Eddie would go to the ends of the Earth to keep him away from his sister? If Evan was starting to get nervous around him then Eddie knew he was doing his job and that things might finally go in his and (Y/n)'s favour, for once.

He tried not to hurry his steps as he approached the rest of the team, but Eddie found himself frowning.

Evan stepped away from him. The taller man pulled his shoulders in and adverted his gaze down to the floor like he was ashamed or suddenly fearful over Eddie. He gripped his bag tighter on his shoulder and stood that little bit closer to Hen who had her hand on his arm and a comforting smile on her face.

"I'd better head home, I- I'll catch you all later." Evan rubbed the heel of his boot into the floor like he was digging a hole and he continued to avoid Eddie's confused gaze.

There was a light blush dusting his face when Evan looked over at Hen and smiled softly at her as she squeezed his arm.

"We're all happy for you, Buck." It was clear Hen's words were referring to whatever conversation they'd been having before Eddie turned up. Leaving Eddie stood in the dark, totally confused as to what was going on and the topic that they had been talking about which had clearly become stilted upon his arrival.

Evan nodded, patted her hand and walked away from her and Chimney as the three of them had been stood chatting for a while now before Eddie turned up. When he went to walk away, Eddie reached out and tried to grab his arm.

His touch wasn't cold or malicious like it had been before and he wasn't about to yank him back or start a fight here. He just wanted to know where Evan was going. He should have been on shift the same as Eddie today and although Eddie hadn't been best pleased about having to be civil, he preferred having Evan right where he could see him. As long as their shifts aligned, it meant Eddie would watch him at all times and then be with (Y/n) so there was no danger of Evan getting to her and doing anything he shouldn't.

But the moment Eddie softly held Evan's upper arm, the taller man shuddered and stepped back. He was quick to wrench his arm out of Eddie's grasp as if he had been scolded by him and he actually flinched.

A bewildered look passed over Eddie's face like an oncoming storm and he frowned in utter confusion.

"Buck, what th-"

"Have a good shift, guys." Evan dipped his head, visibly quaking as he stepped away from Eddie and proceeded to hurry out the station.

What was going on? What had Eddie missed?

Eddie twisted to look at his other teammates, but he was surprised to find Chimney had already walked away and was heading up towards the kitchen. He hadn't even said hello to Eddie, he hadn't said one word or even looked at him and he was walking away. And when he looked across at Hen, unease written plainly on his features, he frowned.

She walked past him with a stoic expression and her chin tilted up like she wasn't going to give him the time of day. What had he done to get the cold shoulder?

Their last shift had been fine, they had all been laughing so much Eddie almost pulled a muscle. That had been a good shift because Evan had to hang back at the station while the rest of them went out on the majority of the calls. Eddie didn't have to deal with him and they had all been having a laugh. It had been calming. So what had changed since then?

"Eddie, a word in my office please?"

The sight of Bobby made a momentary feeling of ease wash over Eddie, right until he looked at his Captain. Bobby looked uneasy. Clearly something had happened this morning and Eddie needed filling in on the situation.

He nodded, dumping his bag on the bench beside him before he followed Bobby down the long corridor towards his office. There was something in Bobby's voice that made Eddie feel like he was heading to the principal's office, about to get told off.

Why did he have a sudden feeling that this had something to do with Evan?

He shut the door behind him and moved to sit down opposite Bobby's desk. His eagle eyes watching his Captain sit down. Bobby looked perplexed. He was sat up straight in his chair and both hands were fiddling around with the papers on his desk like he didn't know what to do with himself.

"Where's Buck gone, the shift's just started." Eddie looked down at his watch, just to make sure that he hadn't overslept or that his watch wasn't late. But he was early like he always was to shift, which meant Evan had to of been here for a while. He had changed his shift or swapped with someone.

"He's done an early shift, I've modified the rota because he wanted a few shift changes."

"Okay… why am I here, what's going on?"

Whatever this was, Eddie didn't like it. He could see in Bobby's expression that he was uncomfortable and he didn't want to be having whatever conversation this was about to become. Something had definitely happened while Eddie had been off for the last three days. He had missed something important, he could feel it.

He leaned his elbows on the armrests and clasped his hands together in front of him, trying not to sit too straight or slouch down in case it gave the wrong impression. Although he wasn't sure what kind of impression he should be giving when he had no idea what was going on.

Bobby danced his eyes around the desk, planting both palms down against the cold wood before he looked over at Eddie. "Buck came to talk to me yesterday, he's worried about you, Eddie."

"About me?" Well that wasn't right for a start. There was no reason Evan would be worried about him. They had been arguing, Evan was entirely in the wrong. The only thing he should be worried about was whether or not Eddie was going to stand in his way and stop him from seeing (Y/n) and his daughter.

But that was a personal matter, nothing to do with work or Bobby or the station.

"I'll be honest with you Eddie, he's shown me the texts, and I heard about the argument at (Y/n)'s scan last week. Buck's worried this might cause problems at work and frankly, so am I."

What the Hell was Buck up to?!

Why had he been talking to Bobby about this? Why had he shown Bobby their messages? If Bobby scrolled back far enough he would see all the crazy shit Evan had said when Eddie riled him up last week. He had said all sorts. He loved (Y/n), he wasn't letting her go. She wasn't taking his daughter who was his and his alone. No one would stop him from seeing them both or being with (Y/n).

The amount of things Evan had said were more worrying than Eddie telling him to calm down or stay away from (Y/n). Why weren't they talking about that instead of what Eddie had said in anger and truth? It seemed like Evan couldn't tell the truth if his life depended on it.

"Bobby, you don't understand-"

"I know he's in a relationship with (Y/n), he's been very open about that, and about how you're protective over her which is okay. But I can't have this causing problems with the pair of you at work. Buck asked for a pattern change and I've agreed and set it in place, but I don't want anymore problems occurring."

Eddie could feel his heart stuttering in his chest, forgetting what pace it was supposed to be working at, causing his body to shake and his chest to seize up. Each heartbeat thumped against his ribs and caused a horrid jolt to course through his veins.

He scratched his hands up and down his thighs and tilted his head down so he could focus on looking at the frays in the knees of his jeans and count every breath he took.

This wasn't right. This wasn't fair. Evan was twisting this to his advantage, he couldn't do this!

"What about him? Bobby this isn't just me fucking around, Buck's done some shit too."

"That may be, but you're the one sending threatening messages to him Eddie. You pushed him in front of witnesses at the hospital and you've been calling him non stop and telling him to stay away from (Y/n), which isn't your choice. He's very worried about you, and so am I because if this continues I'll have to give you a warning or go to senior management."

Oh no.

No, no no, he can't be doing this!

Evan had jumped the gun. He had gotten the head start on Eddie. He had set this up from the very beginning, he knew exactly what he was doing and how to cheat the system.

He was starting the lies that Eddie was the one with the anger problem, that Eddie was the one instigating the trouble. If Evan went down this path, if he told Bobby first and tried to get evidence to prove his point, then Eddie would be stuck.

He was stuck. Eddie couldn't go to Bobby in confidence and explain that Evan was (Y/n)'s stalker. He couldn't tell Bobby that Evan had frightened (Y/n), followed her, controlled her and was still trying to bend her to his will. Anything Eddie tried to say from this point onwards would look like he was going after Evan, that he was persecuting him for being with (Y/n).

The truth wouldn't matter because Evan had set the stage. He had told Bobby and he had clearly told the team something too in order to turn them against Eddie. They would think Eddie was being the protective big brother, that he was spiting Evan for being with his sister.

They weren't going to believe Eddie because Evan was playing the victim and anything he said was going to take precident over whatever accusations Eddie started.

If Eddie wanted to tell the truth, he was going to have to find all the texts, he was going to make to get (Y/n) to talk to Bobby or to the police as well so Evan wouldn't have any other lies to tell.

Evan had made himself the victim.

"Fine. I'd rather not work with him anyway." His hands slammed down on the arms of the chair and he moved to stand up, but he paused when Bobby stood up too.

He wasn't going to argue. He wasn't going to sit here and be told he was being threatening and evasive and picking on his former friend, when Evan was the one to blame. Evan had set this up like an insurance policy to keep himself safe and make sure he got his clutches onto (Y/n). Well Eddie wasn't going to play the game.

This was why Evan had run off like a skittish animal out of the station, he was playing the sympathy game. Pretending he was worried about being around Eddie, acting as if Eddie might tackle him so the team felt sorry for him.

"Eddie, this is serious."

"So reprimand me."

"I'm not doing this to persecute you, this is just a chat, no warnings or written warnings or anything like that. But I have to talk to you because if this is going to be a problem, if this behaviour happens at work you'll have to be on opposite shifts and I'll have to give you a warning."

"What is it you think I've done?" The way his upper lip curled made Bobby sigh. "I didn't punch him or start a fight, Bobby. He was out of line at the hospital so I pushed him away from (Y/n). That's it and that had nothing to do with work, if he can grow up then I can be professional."

It hadn't been a fight, Evan was twisting this to make himself the vulnerable, persecuted victim.

After (Y/n)'s scan, Evan had attached himself to her like a leech and he tried to tell her she could go home with him, again. Eddie wasn't having any of it and so he pushed Evan back. That was all he did, he didn't punch him or shout at him or cause a scene in the waiting room. He pushed him and walked out with (Y/n) before Evan could follow after them.

He should of hit him. At least that might have gotten the message through Evan's skull and made him realise he was playing with fire.

"You both need to sort this out between you because I won't have this affecting your work."

What would of happened if Eddie had come to Bobby first? What would Bobby have done if he learned the truth? Would he have talked to (Y/n), reassured her he would watch Evan and make sure he didn't spread anymore lies or try and get close to her? Would Bobby have taken their side?

Maybe Evan would have a note on his file by now that he was acting out and was becoming a danger. Maybe he would have been talked to by higher management. Maybe Athena would have gotten involved.

If the team could see this through (Y/n)'s eyes, if they could see why Eddie was trying to protect her, maybe they would agree. Maybe they would shun Evan instead of Eddie and do whatever they could to make him stop, to make him act properly and go about this in the right way.

Eddie would never know how the team would react, because the damage had already been done. By Evan. Again.

"Eddie, a piece of advice? Whatever the problem is here, you can't change the fact that Buck and (Y/n) are having a kid together. He's going to be in your life and you both have to find out how to work with this. Avoiding each other isn't going to work forever."

With a huff, Eddie walked out and slammed the door behind him, relishing in the way the wall shuddered at his force and his presence. He could feel his hands balling up into fists at his sides. All he was doing was trying to protect his family, and he was about to get reprimanded for it.

No, avoiding each other wasn't going to work forever. But Eddie wasn't going to let Evan have his own way and set the rules. He would keep his sister safe from Evan's clutches, in any way he could.

***

A headache began to form behind (Y/n)'s eyes when she blearily looked around the living room.

She had fallen asleep.

It was getting harder and harder for (Y/n) to manage some sleep nowadays, she spent most nights tossing and turning or just staring up at the ceiling, waiting in vain for her mind to get so tired it shut itself down.

She wasn't used to taking naps during the day, but she was relieved she had managed to doze off for a while. It would do her some good to get some sleep, and it would help the baby too. (Y/n) knew all the worry recently wasn't doing her any good, it was making her feel ill and making her sluggish at work. A bit of rest might make her feel better.

It took some effort to push up from the cushion she had been dozing on and sit upright on the sofa. She heaved her legs back down so her feet were touching the floor and ran her fingers through her hair, moving it so it didn't look as if she had just been dragged through a hedge.

It dawned on her why she had suddenly woken up from her nap she didn't remember taking. She could hear an engine revving outside.

Chris was home.

Pushing up from the sofa, she clicked her spine into place and moved her hand to cradle her stomach.

Evan had brought him home. Despite Eddie vowing not to let Evan near Chris or (Y/n), he had given in when he realised not seeing Evan was going to crush his son. Chris had asked when he could see Evan next and he was still anxious about not wanting (Y/n) to leave. If he suddenly stopped seeing the one other person he relied on, he would know something was wrong.

Eddie had set the rules in place. Evan could take him out to the cinema today and go for a drive, but Chris had to be home for tea time. Evan couldn't come in, he couldn't try any tricks or make (Y/n) uncomfortable or say anything that would unsettle Chris.

He knew Chris would be safe with Evan. The possessive side was only there for (Y/n) and it would only flare up around her or the baby, it wouldn't extend to Chris. Unless Evan was parted from him too. Keeping contact was best for the pair of them and Eddie was willing to let it continue because he knew Evan hadn't done anything to worry or upset Chris like he had done with (Y/n).

Moving her hand to the armchair, (Y/n) used it as leverage and pushed herself into the hall. She padded barefoot towards the front door but she took a step back when it swung open and Chris came trotting in, as usual.

Her lips curved into a smile as he kicked off his shoes and hung up his bag and she felt her heart bubbling up when he set his sights on her and grinned. But (Y/n) could feel her smile quivering, desperate to fall into a frown when she realised who else was in the doorway.

Chris had his hand tightly enveloped in Evan's and he pulled Evan inside as if he was a dog on a leash.

Evan kicked the door shut behind him and shrugged out of his shoes, the usual habit when he came over. He knew things would change, he had never felt like a guest in the Diaz household, but now he was going to be an unwelcomed visitor.

It was a good thing Evan knew Eddie wasn't home and that Chris wanted him here. The ten year old had practically dragged him in without asking, simply presuming Evan would come in for a while like he usually did, and Evan was more than willing to come in because he knew (Y/n) was home.

Without Eddie here to guard her, Evan could be as close to her as he liked without consequence.

"Hi baby," (Y/n) watched as Chris finally let go of Evan's hand so he could barrell over to (Y/n) and bind his arms around her waist. He glued himself to her front, trying to be mindful of her bump that was now in the way and he giggled when she leaned down to kiss his hair. Ruffling his curls in the process, which made him squeeze her tighter.

(Y/n) was rather relieved that Evan had stuck to the agreement. She knew Eddie had been worried that he might try and take liberties. That he would keep Chris out later than he was told or take him back to his place or just do something to push the boundaries that he shouldn't.

But Eddie had been firm, and he had been less than kind when he had a quiet word with Evan after work.

He didn't care what lies Evan told to the team, but he explained that Evan couldn't get away with anything. If he took liberties with Chris, then Eddie would make sure Evan wouldn't get close to his daughter once she was born.

The threat had been enough to rattle Evan's cage and make him agree to any terms placed in front of him.

"Did you two have fun?" (Y/n) ran her fingers through Chris's hair as he continued to hug her, sticking to her side like they were now permanently glued together.

She tried not to, but she couldn't help but dance her eyes over to Evan. He had taken his shoes off. He had shut the door behind him. He wasn't intending on leaving yet. He had been told to drop Chris off and go, whenever he did that he would usually sit in the jeep and wait until Chris got inside, then he would drive off. Clearly when Chris had asked him if he was coming in, Evan took the invitation without a second thought.

She could feel her heart jumping into her throat when Evan grinned at her. He looked so casual, stood there with his hip leaning against the side table and one hand on his hip.

And (Y/n) didn't miss the way that Evan's eyes dragged up and down her frame, lingering in many places, as long as he liked because they both knew no one else was home. No one was going to tell him to back off. If he got closer, (Y/n) wouldn't have the nerve to tell him to move because Chris was here and she couldn't upset him.

"Yeah, he loved the film." Evan's voice was silky smooth and he reached up to drag his hand across his freshly shaved jaw in that manner which hid his smirk behind his hand.

"You didn't tell me!"

"Tell you what, baby?" Tilting her head to one side, (Y/n) narrowed her eyes as a quizzical smile played on her lips.

What hadn't she told Chris? Had she forgotten to mention something, about the movie perhaps? It had to be something good because she could feel her nephew vibrating against her, practically bouncing up and down like he was about to explode.

"That you and uncle Buck are having a baby! That means he's really gonna be my uncle now, right?"

A cold shiver cast down (Y/n)'s spine as dread started to pool in her stomach where the baby was livening up.

He hadn't?

He had. One look at that devilish smirk on Evan's face told (Y/n) he had gone and done something she wished he hadn't. He had made things ten times worse, just to play the game to his advantage.

He had told Chris the baby was his.

Evan had cemented himself in the family and made sure nothing could happen without him knowing. By telling Chris, he was affirming himself and his place in (Y/n)'s life. If Chris knew, he wouldn't let this go. He would let Evan in all the time, he would call him his uncle, he would love that his two favourite people were seemingly in a relationship and having a baby.

If (Y/n) even thought about leaving again, Chris would undoubtedly let anything slip to Evan. He would be his eyes and ears when (Y/n) wasn't in his sights.

This was Evan's way of making sure he was in his daughter's life. They couldn't keep him away without horridly distressing Chris, and neither Eddie nor (Y/n) would want to do that unless strictly necessary. They would have to let Evvan be involved with his child, they would have to let him hang around and take Chris out and be close to (Y/n). They didn't have a choice anymore.

Chris would tell the team, he would tell his friends, he would tell anyone and everyone that Evan and (Y/n) were in a relationship. This worked everything entirely to Evan's advantage.

(Y/n) fought back a shiver when Evan walked over to them. She stiffened when his arm curved around her waist so his hand rested on her lower back, and she stayed completely motionless when he pressed a deep kiss to her temple.

"It sure does, buddy."

He had officially integrated himself and rooted (Y/n) here. She couldn't go anywhere or leave with the baby without causing a fight with Evan and making waves through their whole friendship group.

"L- let's start dinner." (Y/n) shakily squeezed Chris in another little hug before she detached herself from him.

She glanced up at Evan as she pulled out of his arms and the silent debate between them was won when Chris waved Evan to follow. Muttering a soft "You staying?" Which sounded more like a command than a question.

"How could I refuse?"

They both knew why he was staying. Eddie was on the late shift, he wouldn't be home until roughly eight o'clock tonight. There was three hours to play with. Three whole hours where Evan could be in his girl's company and wrap himself around her and kiss her and talk to her freely without having to look over his shoulder or hold himself back to please Eddie.

Without him here, Evan felt like he had had the shackles taken off his wrists and he was a free man. He had been released from his prison that had restrained him to the point of insanity. Not being able to hold his girl drove him mad. Not being able to reach out for her stomach and feel his baby wriggling had him on the verge of tears.

Not talking to her or holding her close or pinning her beneath him had him in a state of desperation Evan had never felt before. (Y/n) felt the pair of them following after her as she headed into the kitchen and washed her hands. She had prepared most of the food earlier, all she had to do was put everything on the stove and cook the mince.

She forced herself to smile and handed the pan of chopped vegetables over to Chris so he could put them on the stove.

"Does this… does this mean you'll move out? You'll live with uncle Buck now?" Chris divided his attention between them, looking from one to the other as (Y/n) stood near the sink and Evan stood behind him.

Evan placed one hand on the counter and the other on Chris's shoulder so he could lean down and kiss the top of his head. Chris was unknowingly doing all the work here for him. If (Y/n) said yes, she wouldn't be able to back out. If she said no, she would have to explain to Chris why, and make the situation more complicated.

"I- I suppose… I don't think that cot will fit in my room here, do you?" (Y/n) wasn't trapping herself in this conversation. She would make light of it. After all, Chris knew she had been looking at flats. She could always tell him that once she got her own flat, that she and Evan were going to co-parent together but didn't have to live together.

But she knew she couldn't stay here forever, no matter how badly she wanted to. She needed a place of her own, for her and the baby. She couldn't stay here with Chris and Eddie and she could hardly stay in that room and squash a cot in there with her.

Eddie had gone out with her to get a few things, considering (Y/n) had barely anything ready for the baby. She had put it off long enough, so now she had bought a crib and stroller and some clothes, just a few essentials.

"We'll have to get sorted soon, she'll be here before we know it."

Evan's words rung true and (Y/n) tried not to pull away or make any sudden movements when Evan shuffled to stand beside her. The affection in his voice had her eyes welling over with tears.

She did her best to stop her hands from shaking as she put the mince on the stove and started to stir the pan. Her eyes intently focused on the cooking while Chris watched intently, and she felt Evan's presence at her side more than ever.

Especially when she felt his hand drag across her stomach. She stayed still, letting Evan trail his fingertips along her bump, clearly waiting for a kick or some sign that their daughter was awake. (Y/n) didn't like to stop him because she knew Evan wasn't trying to play games, he was with his words, but not these kind of touches. He wanted to feel a kick, he wanted to feel her move and feel involved. (Y/n) didn't have the heart to stop him.

"So, you've got a few things ready for her, then?"

"Hm?" (Y/n) dragged her gaze away from Evan's hand that didn't leave her stomach and looked up at him, confusion glazing over in her eyes until she realised what he meant. "Oh, yeah, not much. Cot, carrier, pram, that's it I think. There's still heaps more to do."

Her attention shifted back to the cooking, but she could feel her mind drifting away and trying so hard to concentrate on Evan's movements.

The way he shifted to stand behind her like he was pinning her in between the cooker and himself. The way his chest pressed down against her back when he leaned over her shoulder. And how his left hand curved over her hip while his right hand continuted to feather across her stomach so softly she felt like she was imagining the touch.

"I'll take you next week, to get whatever else we need." His lips pressed against the side of her temple and he nudged his nose into her hairline, staying there for a few seconds. She could feel his even breaths fanning against her skin and she didn't mistake the way his arms tightened around her like he was caging her in.

She wanted to refuse. She wanted to say no, but how could she? This was his baby too. (Y/n) would feel cruel going out and getting everything without so much as consulting Evan on a few things. She wasn't doing this alone no matter how she had tried in the beginning. Doing this alone had mainly consisted of acting like she wasn't pregnant to begin with.

"Can I come with you? I can find her some Disney stuff." The excitement in Chris's voice was hard to resist and he planted his hands down on the counter as he began swaying from his heels to his toes.

"Sure buddy. She's definitely gonna be a Disney princess."

(Y/n) found herself nodding when Chris looked up at her. At least if Chris went with them, (Y/n) would feel moderately safe and at ease. Evan would never do anything inappropriate in front of Chris, and he would have to watch what he said because they all knew Chris retained information like an encyclopaedia.

If he tagged along with them, Evan couldn't be too touchy-feely with (Y/n) and if she asked him to take her home, he couldn't just disagree and take her to his place, something he had done before in the past.

And it would stop (Y/n) from overly panicking if someone went with her to buy the things she needed for the baby. Even if that did happen to be Evan. It wouldn't feel so daunting with the pair of them going with her.

"Okay, why don't you go set up a game to beat Buck before dinner, hm?" She dragged her fingers through Chris's curls and ticked her head in the direction of the doorway.

Chris didn't have to stay and help, he could go and play a game and (Y/n) knew he would want Evan to play a game or two with him. At least if they played before dinner, (Y/n) wouldn't have to argue with them both to get Evan out of the house. If they played after dinner, Evan might never leave. And he certainly couldn't be here when Eddie came home.

"I'll be there in a minute," Evan muttered softly, patting Chris's shoulder before he was hurrying out of the room to find a suitable game for them to play.

When he turned back in her direction, Evan tilted his head to one side and moved so his front was facing her. He loved the nervous smile he could see on (Y/n)'s face like she didn't know what to do with herself or how to look art him. He loved the way she shivered when she looked up at him and when he stepped closer, she had nowhere to move.

Her hips pressed back into the counter that her hands reached behind her to grab so she could keep herself steady. She didn't seem to know what to do when Evan moved to stand between her legs, pressing his abdomen into her bump and clamping his hands down on the counter either side of her.

"We need to think of a name, for her." Evan cast his eyes down before he looked back up at (Y/n), darting his tongue out to trace across his lips like a predator sizing up its meal.

(Y/n) tilted her head back, trying to breathe properly but she couldn't with how close Evan was to her. He was caging her in, pinning her into the counter and engulfing her like he always did, caging her in. Letting her know she was his. They were both his.

She heard Evan murmur "Something beautiful," but she could barely hear his voice over the pounding of her heart when his hands left the counter and moved to hold her hips instead.

His fingers dug into her hips and (Y/n) shivered when Evan tilted his temple down into hers. The look in his eyes was like a burning intensity. He hadn't been this close to her in a while. At the scan last week he had kissed her, but those touches had been fleeting. He couldn't display too much PDA and make the midwife uncomfortable, and the after Eddie caught him, he couldn't get within ten feet of (Y/n).

But now, he had no one to stop him and no one to try and act civil around. He was doing what he could when he could, and the way he held her made (Y/n) feel like he was a starved man being shown a feast.

"Bonnie." The name rolled off (Y/n)'s lips in a quiet whisper and her trembling hands began tapping the counter, unsure what to do with herself.

At least with Chris in the living room, there was no chance of Evan trying anything too seductive or carrying her to the bedroom like he had done a few months ago. He could only do so much with their nephew being in the next room and still within earshot of them.

She liked that name. It was cute, it was a name that meant beautiful and it was one (Y/n) could see herself calling the little girl who would soon be in her arms. And when she saw Evan's lips stretch into a smile, she knew he liked it too.

"Bonnie Buckley." He grinned like the devil but the undertone in his voice spoke a thousand volumes. She was having his last name. Evan knew what Eddie would say. He would want her to have (Y/n)'s last name, he wouldn't want Evan having any rights or claims to her, but that wasn't happening.

Evan would do what he had to in order to make sure his girl had his last name, and he was going on the birth certificate whether Eddie liked it or not. He didn't care what he had to do or what charms he had to put on (Y/n) to bend her to his will. This was non-negotiable.

(Y/n) found herself nodding along to the name, but she choked on her breath when Evan's lips found hers and his hands slipped beneath her shirt. His lips were bruising, but his touch wasn't as forceful or as desperate as last week. He didn't have to rush and he didn't have to be tender or hold himself back. No one was here to watch or stop him.

He wasted no time sliding his tongue past her lips and taking the last of the oxygen she had stored in her lungs, leaving (Y/n) gasping against his lips.

It didn't bother him when her hands dug into his arms and when she tried to push him back, Evan just locked his frame and leant into her. His hands squeezed her tight into his embrace and when (Y/n) finally broke their lips apart, she twisted her head to the side.

He didn't like that. He didn't like her looking away from him. Why couldn't she just admit she wanted him half as much as he wanted her? Why couldn't she give in to his advances? He was starving from being away from her. She had to feel the same.

He moved one hand to grip her chin and twist her head back to face him, causing her eyes to widen and her plump lips to part. That was all he needed to dive down for another kiss.

"T-the-" (Y/n) tried to speak against his lips, but Evan only kissed her deeper. He seemed to understand though, when (Y/n) let go of his arm to waft her hand near the stove. The vegetables were fine, but the mince was going to burn.

Evan took care of that. He unlatched his hand from her chin and expertly turned off the gas, dumping the pan on the side so it wouldn't burn and the food would cool. He would cook it later, it could wait. It wouldn't take long to cook, and Evan was busy.

Shivers tore down to (Y/n)'s does and she felt like her arms were turning numb and cold when Evan wormed both hands beneath her shirt. He roamed his fingertips across her bump a few times, tickling her skin and feeling the way the baby wriggled and came to life at his touch. It made his lips smile against hers and the excitement thrilled him and made him sink his teeth down into (Y/n)'s lip, making her jump against him.

(Y/n) tried again to nudge Evan backwards because he had her pinned into a corner. Her lip felt bruised from both his kissing and the way he sank his teeth down into her lip with fever.

She managed to push him back two feet, but her hands quickly grabbed his shoulders to steady herself when Evan leaned down into her and knocked her off balance.

His lips left hers and dove down to attach to the side of her neck and (Y/n) squeaked when Evan hastily wormed his hands beneath the waistband of her leggings to hold her bum. His fingers dug into her flesh and he pulled her that little bit closer until there was no space between them and every ridge and curve was pressed into him.

"Evan- Evan no." (Y/n) twisted from side to side, but it did nothing to deter the man in front of her that seemed like an animal unleashed.

She could feel him chuckling into her throat, grazing his teeth along her skin and biting hickeys into her neck every now and then as he roamed around every part of her skin he could find. He was exploring her like he was charting a map out of her.

"Why? Big brother isn't here to stop me. Don't you want me, baby?" That tone of voice had (Y/n)'s knees quivering. That was the voice he used when he wanted something.

That was the tone Evan used when he asked her if she was seeing someone from work. It was the voice he used to ask her who she was texting or where she had been after work. And it was the voice he used to butter her up when he told her she was being silly for not believing him over someone else.

Evan knew how to twist every tone into something sugary and how to get his words just right so (Y/n) either felt like she was going against him or like she couldn't respond at all. She didn't want to upset him or make him angry. She would rather give in and go along with what he said, like always, than start a fight when she didn't have anyone here- like Eddie- to stand in her corner and fight with her.

"Chris… he-"

"He isn't watching. Let me hold my girls."

(Y/n) tightened her hands on his shoulders, but she didn't move. She didn't say anything. She let Evan continue tracing his lips along her neck and squeezing her flesh tighter and tighter until he was surely going to bruise her and leave hand indents in her skin.

When he found his way back to her lips and took them like ownership, (Y/n) didn't respond, but she didn't pull away either. He was holding her so tightly it almost hurt, but the yearning in his embrace was unmistakeable. He'd missed her. He wanted to hold her. He loved her and their baby, so much. Probably too much.

Evan smiled into the kiss and relented just a little, kissing her with more passion and a bit less fever than before. He was gentler when he glided his tongue across her lower lip and he let her take in a breath so she didn't go lightheaded. He loved the way all he had to do was lean forward and (Y/n) was tilting back in his arms, clinging to him tighter so she didn't fall. Just like he was holding her over the edge of a cliff and she was hanging onto him like he was her salvation.

He loved the way her stomach curved and moulded against his abdomen and let him feel the round of kicking their baby girl was giving out.

He loved how all he had to do was put on his voice and hold her and (Y/n) gave in.

"My girls," He murmured against her lips, feeling (Y/n) quiver and melt into his touch when he slithered one hand around the side of her thigh to the base of her stomach. The elastic of her leggings stayed tightly digging into his wrist, but all Evan could concentrate on was his fingers dancing across (Y/n)'s bump and the way it caused (Y/n) to shiver and twist in his arms.

And with Eddie still being at work for another two or three hours, it gave Evan plenty of time to work on (Y/n). She had already given in to Chris and told him she would be moving out. Evan was going to pull whatever tricks he had to so (Y/n) relented and moved in with him.

A gasp caught at the back of (Y/n)'s throat and she tried not to let her knees buckle when Evan cooed "I love you, both of you." Into her mouth.

She knew anything she did was going to be inevitable now. Evan was going to get his own way; he always did.

He would feign ignorance. He would tell her it was for the best that she moved in with him. He would be on his best behaviour, he would win her over and make her tell Eddie that this was the only option. They would co-parent their baby together, they had to do this together.

Evan would agree to anything. He would let Eddie come round every day and check on him. He would let Eddie set as many rules as he wanted if it got Evan's girls living with him, where they belonged. Eddie couldn't refuse, not when everyone thought he and (Y/n) were a couple and Eddie could keep a check on them both. Maddie would be round to help (Y/n) anyway, she was going to be a sister to (Y/n).

Evan needed his sister to be on (Y/n)'s side, to care for her and help her so (Y/n) could lean on Maddie instead of Eddie. Maddie was on Evan's side, and Eddie was becoming a problem.

Eddie would give in. He wouldn't have a choice.

[eroselless]

PATO - TWO

series masterlist | part 1 | part 3

[charles leclerc x reader, carlos sainz x reader]

warnings: angst, talk of pregnancy, Spanish

note: Part 2! I already feel extremely invested in this and I started new adhd meds so I've been able to rlly hone in and work hard on it :) Let me know how you guys are liking it!

SPAIN, DECEMBER 2022, 3 weeks later

1st trimester/7 weeks/2 months

You sit idly at the kitchen table, face pale and drawn from another bout of morning sickness. You fiddle with the loose threads of a doily that sit trapped under a large bowl of fruit in front of you. Despite the warmth of the sun and the stillness of the countryside, you struggle to adjust. The noisy streets of Monaco seemed to bring you comfort, a reminder of Charles and how eventually he’d come home to you. But that was all gone, replaced by the dulcet tones of the birds outside and the gentle breeze clinking the windchimes on your aunt’s porch. 

Aunt Ines bustles around the kitchen, her movements brisk and efficient as she prepares a brebaje for you, a concoction to soothe your queasy gut. She places the mug in front of you and you recoil slightly at the smell. It wafts up, mingling with the scent of coffee and eggs. 

“Tomatelo, que eso ayuda con las náuseas,” she says drink it, it’ll help with the nausea. You take the mug, hands trembling slightly. You take a big gulp, ignoring the slight burn the liquid leaves behind. Your hands tremble slightly as you put the cup back down on the table.

“Gracias, tía,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

Ines watches you, her gaze a mixture of concern and affection. She didn’t hesitate to pick up the phone when you called her that night on the train. Her heart ached for you as she watched how you would check your phone for a man who had let you go so easily. Your belly was growing a little every day but the life and joy in your eyes seemed to fade as each day passed. 

“Linda, ¿por qué no vas por un pancito a la panaderia?” She asks Sweetie, why don’t you go get some bread from the bakery? You let out a groan and she can almost see your old self appear briefly as you sag in the chair, arms flopping down at your sides.

“I don’t feel like going out,” you protest weakly. She places her hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently. 

“I know it’s hard, but you need to get out a little. Some fresh air will do you good. And besides, you can’t stay cooped up in this house forever.”

You sigh, mumbling a quiet bueno, okay as you get up from the table. Ines watches you pull your shoes on with a huff. She twists a rag in her hands, recalling how spirited you used to be. As you bid her a quick goodbye, she can’t help but shake her head as you check your phone one more time before tossing it on the table by the door. You were checking for Charles again. 

You looked for him in the mirror every morning, in your sheets, in your dreams. She could hear you call out for him in your slumber. Or hear you cry in the early hours of the morning when you thought she was asleep. She could hear you talking to the baby, asking it questions, both love and anger pouring out in your words. 

Charles’s silence seemed to weigh heavy on your conscience. Was all the love shared in the two years you spent together just gone? Picked up by the wind and dropped into the ocean, sinking down to its dark depths? 

Ines would try her best to distract you from Charles and focus on the baby, gifting you a hand-knitted blanket and yellow booties. Each item was made with love and care, trying to remind you that you had love at your fingertips, in herself and the little bundle growing within you. 

You make your way to the bakery, the morning air cool against your skin. You can’t help but wonder what Charles might be doing. Were you occupying his thoughts as he was occupying yours? Maybe he was waiting on his phone, waiting for your call as you waited for his every day. You get pulled from your thoughts as a little boy skids in front of you, you let out a yelp as he scurries after a red toy car.

“Disculpa, señora!” He exclaims as he chases after it Sorry, lady! You watch him as he wanders off, finally catching it. Another boy, older, follows after him. You both watch as the little one, maybe 3 years old, flicks at the tires of the car, laughing as they spin. He beams up at the older boy and they smile at each other, conversing and giggling as they continue their way down the street. You smile as they walk away from your eyeline, a sad, bittersweet smile.  

The streets are lined with charming little buildings, bustling with kids and adults alike. You can soon smell the yeasty scent of bread trailing down the street. You breathe deeply as you reach the doors of the bakery, greeted by warmth and the delicious smell of freshly baked goods. Walking through the threshold of the bakery, a kindly old man smiles at you as you enter. 

“Buenos dias, señorita,” he says. “What can I get for you today?” You manage a small smile. “A loaf of your freshest bread please.”

He nods and disappears into the kitchen. You pull out some coins, moving to lean against a table that stands off to one side. You try settling in the warmth of the cozy bakery, trying to draw some comfort from the soft glow of warm lighting and the inviting scent of cinnamon and sugar. You close your eyes for a second, hand resting on your tummy. It's grown since the night on the train. If you pulled your shirt tightly against your body, you’d be able to see it starting to poke out. You wonder what the baby will look like. Would she look like you? Or would she inherit the features of her father? Would it even be a she? Or would it be a little boy, the image of his father? 

The baker calls for you, pulling you out of your brief daze and hands you the loaf wrapped in brown paper. You hand him the money and thank him before heading back home. 

Your walk back is easier, your mind occupied with thoughts of the baby. You cradle the warm bread against your chest, eyes flickering to its crispy outside. You’ll carry the baby like this someday. 

Back at the house, Ines is waiting for you. She leans on the doorway, a smile on her face. She takes the bread from you, walking into the kitchen. 

“No tan mal,¿cierto?” She teases lightly Not that bad, right? You nod, feeling lighter. 

Putting the bread down, she pulls you into her arms. 

She feels her chest fill with relief as you relax into her embrace, face tucked into the crook of her neck. You hold onto her, feeling the love that surrounds you. For the first time in the last couple of weeks, you don’t feel as if the world is fighting with all its might against you. You let out a smile. This time a little wider than before.

A WEEK LATER 

Laughter seems to bounce off the walls of the small home. You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, a bag of carrots in your lap. You bite into one, handing another to your aunt as she chops them up and tosses them into a pot full of celery and potatoes. 

“Do you remember when Jorge used to feed the dog his bottle?” Ines chuckles, shaking her head. Her children are older than you, occupied with their own families in different corners of the world. “He was so terribly convinced that the dog needed it more than he did.” 

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest. “And Mateo used to put his toys in the fridge! Mom would always find action figures next to the milk and cheese.”

Ines laughs again, a bittersweet smile on her lips. “Esos peladitos, always keeping us on our toes.” Those little guys. 

You laugh at her comment, hopping off the counter as you hear your phone buzz on the kitchen table. Ines chastizes you as you do so, telling you you shouldn’t be jumping around like that. You shake your head, a smile still playing on your face. You brush your hands on your pants, not caring for the slight orange residue they leave behind, and reach for your phone. 

The laughter seems to fade from the room, the joyful noise dying in your chest. You blink a few times, words on the screen not fully registering in your mind. A headline stares back at you, the words blurring as tears fill your eyes. 

You stare at your phone for a moment before tossing it carelessly onto the table and running out the front door. Your aunt looks back at you from her spot at the sink. 

“Mi amor,” she calls for you, moving quickly to follow after you. “¿que paso?” what happened? You don’t answer, heaving as you stop at the edge of the property. The world seems to spin around you and you try to catch your breath. Your chest feels tight and the air only seems to get hotter as you stand there. You want to scream. Inside, Ines watches you with confusion, wiping her hands on a rag before picking up the phone with the screen still on. Her heart fills with dread as she reads: 

Prince of Ferrari, Charles Leclerc seems to have parted ways with his illusive girlfriend after being spotted with new mystery woman in a Monaco restaurant. Who is his ex-girlfriend and why did the F1 star break up with her?

She swipes at the screen, eyes scanning over the pictures attached to the headline. Charles sits at a table, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He’s leaning into the woman, noses almost touching as he leans in for a kiss. There’s a smile painted on his face, his arm draped around her shoulders. The pictures show him gradually getting closer until his lips are pressed to hers. 

She presses a hand to her mouth as she puts the phone down, making sure to swipe the page away before making her way out to you. You’re sobbing, with your head in your hands. Your shoulders shaking with such force, Ines thinks you could heave. 

“Lo siento mucho, mi amor,” she consoles as she nears you I’m so sorry, my love. She pulls you into her chest, her own tears dripping down her face as your body wracks against hers. Her hands rub soothing circles on your back. 

The pain feels unbearable, a mix of betrayal and heartbreak. The man you love, the father of your child, moving on without a second thought. You think of the nights you cried for him, the mornings you searched for his presence. It felt like a cruel joke. 

“Casi ni siquiera ha pasado un mes,” you manage to choke out between sobs. “Y asi como nada.” It's barely even been a month, and just like that.

Ines pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes. She brushes away the hair that’s begun to stick to your cheeks. Your eyes look beautiful as they drip with immense sadness. There was so much beauty in your tragedy. 

“We’ll get through this,” she whispers firmly. “One step at a time.”

You nod, taking a small comfort in her words. They don’t do much to ease the crushing weight in your chest. Any hope you had for a future with Charles crumbles before you, replaced with an uncertain reality. You sink into her arms and let yourself release a sob, clutching tight to your middle. You whisper a quiet apology to the little bump, tears only streaming harder down your face. 

“I’m here,” Ines says softly, her voice steady. “And I’ll always be here. We’ll get through this together.” She holds you tight, her love wrapping around you like a warm blanket, offering the only solace you can find as the world seems to crash around you.

.˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚.

The weeks pass slowly and you find yourself sitting on the porch day after day. It's almost like that one scene in Twilight but in the warm and bright climate of Spain. Your morning sickness dwindles, some days better than others. It's yet another crisp morning that you find yourself sitting there, enjoying the sound of the windchimes and birds once again. Ines pokes her head out the door, peering at you. 

“Linda, te puedo pedir un favorcito?” she asks, her face in a little grimace sweetie, can I ask a little favour from you? You look up, nodding your head silently. She lets out a sly smile.

“I’m running low on a few things for dinner tonight and I can’t go to the market with all the chores I need to finish.” she winces. You know what’s coming and you relent, getting up to grab a grocery bag. 

“Thank you, mija,” she says, pressing a kiss to you head. “I just need some tomatoes and carrots and maybe a loaf of bread.” you nod fervently at her request, not stopping the shadow of a smile that appears on your face as she hobbles away to grab a pen and paper. With now a list in hand, you step out into the bright morning light.

The market is just a short walk away, and as you make your way through the quaint streets, you try to focus on the task at hand, pushing any thoughts of Charles to the back of your mind.

The market is alive with activity, vendors calling out their wares, and the air filled with the mingling scents of fresh produce and baked goods. You wander from stall to stall, selecting ripe tomatoes, crisp lettuce, and fragrant herbs, your basket slowly filling with the ingredients Ines needs.

As you reach for a bundle of carrots, you hear a voice call from behind you. You turn, eyes widening as you see Carlos approaching you, arms wide and a smile playing on his face. 

“Es tan lindo verte,” he says, eyes crinkling with a warm smile it’s so nice to see you. He pulls you in close arms wrapping around you completely. You relax a little, finding comfort in seeing a familiar face. A mixture of emotions hits you as he holds you. His presence is a reminder of the world you left behind, a reminder of the love you lost. 

“Hola, Carlos,” you reply, managing a soft smile. He lets go, eyes looking over you. 

“You look… different,” he observes. His face is full of concern as he looks you over closely. Your smile fades as he does. Your bump is sticking out a little more as you enter your second trimester. Your shirt is taught against your tummy, fabric being pulled back slightly as he lets his arms drop. The growing babe causes your belly button to slowly start to poke out. “Yeah,” you murmur, tugging your shirt loose. “I guess I’ve been going through some changes.” 

You feel a blush rise to your cheeks as he reaches for your small belly, stopping abruptly before his fingers make contact with it. “Are you…?” he trails off, his voice filled with surprise. 

You nod, and Carlos can’t tell if your expression is of pride or shame. He nods sympathetically. He’d heard about what happened with Charles, whispers spreading quickly through the paddock as the news broke. But not this, no one had mentioned this. “Charles doesn’t know, he doesn’t need to,” you explain, eyes pleading with him. 

He nods, eyebrows furrowed. “Lo siento mucho,” he says, reaching out and placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder I’m so sorry. Though Charles didn’t share you much with the world, you did occasion a race every now and then, mostly hidden away from the cameras. When he saw Charles step out on town with someone else, he suspected something had happened. 

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. “Yeah,” you whisper. His hand lingers its spot, sending a strange sense of comfort to wash over you. Despite the pain you’d been carrying with you for the last few weeks, the genuine kindness he was offering you seemed to alleviate it a little.

"Listen," Carlos begins, his voice gentle. "I know things are tough right now, but if you ever need someone to talk to or just a shoulder to lean on, I'm here for you." 

His words catch you off guard, and you find yourself blinking back tears. "Thank you, Carlos," you whisper, feeling a swell of gratitude in your chest.

He offers you a warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Anytime," he says softly. "Cuidate, okay?” Take care of yourself, okay?

With a final nod, Carlos bids you farewell, leaving you standing there in the bustling market square.

tags: @kravitzwhore @janeh22 @apollosfavkiddo @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @tremendousstarlighttragedy

[messylustt]

okay but what ab a fic inspired by teddy bear by melanie martinez about ethan

oh shit— yes, 100% yes, it fits so well

teddy bear — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : inspired by the song teddy bear by melanie martinez

contents : dark!ethan. established relationship. ethan licks blood off readers lip. small stab (reader to ethan). wc 1.2k

Ethan watches as you waltzed around the kitchen, making a dinner you swore Ethan would love. He'd just smiled at your ethusiasim, as his gaze wandered down your loose and little clothing.

You didn't hear Ethan when he leant against the wall, still just watching, an unmoving smile on his lips. You looked so pretty. Careless with a smile of your own. You hummed to yourself, as you chopped vegetables.

When you had met Ethan, you had fallen for his dorky exterior, words slightly stumbled when he asked you out, but your smile—one that he couldnt get out of his head—calmed his nerves.

Ethan fell for you and you helped him with his bruises. His days had grown gloomy and stressful ever since his family's revenge plan began. He had always felt heavy, and then you came along.

Stitched you up, put you together

With cotton and feather

Gave you love, put my heart inside you

You jumped when you finally noticed Ethan's presence. "Christ, Ethan." You scolded, as he pushed off the wall, grabbing your shirt and pulling you towards him.

"No." You warn, as his breath fanned over your lips. "This meal will not burn." You push away from him, willing to stay focused.

Ethan slightly pouted as he tilted his head. "With you cooking its fate is already set."

You narrow your eyes at him, before busying yourself with the dinner. "Get out of my kitchen."

"You do realise that this is my kitchen, right?" Ethan playfully asks. But he does retreat, beginning to leave you to your cooking.

"Mhm." You hum, nodding. Ethan's smile widened at this, because you were right, this was your kitchen, along with other things, like something that pounded rapidly in his chest.

As promised your meal was delicious. Ethan had to hold down his want to make a sound of approval because your smug expression was far too obvious. You leaned a little closer to him across the table. "Its okay, I know you love it."

When you'd both cleaned the dishes, Ethan made a point to convince you to stay. 'It's too dark' was his excuse. But in all honesty you didn't need much to nod and say yes, following him to his room.

Somehow Ethan had convinced you stay in his bed. 'It's cold' was his excuse. But again you didn't need much to be convinced.

Slipping under the covers, it didn't take long for Ethan to shift closer to you, his body becoming flush with yours, as his lips grazed your neck, his arms wrapping around your waist.

Throughout the night you'd sleepily feel his grip tighten around you. You wondered if it was a nightmare, Ethan's strength due to fear. Then you heard mumbles of a supposed sleepy Ethan, who thought you were asleep. Soft words that you barely registered even the next morning.

"You look so pretty….being this vulnerable"

"So pretty…you’ll look so pretty…covered in red."

Oh, what could I do

When you started talking in your sleep

Saying things you'd do to me

I didn't care, I wasn't scared

As normal, you went to uni, spending the day taking notes in lectures, and letting Ethan join you for lunch. He'd always kiss you on the cheek, knowing your request to not show too much PDA when his friends were near. In the interim between both you noticed the bruises that had begun to form on your stomach, results of Ethan’s tight grip.

Ethan invited you back to his again, and who were you to deny. Your last lesson was later than his, and you told him you'd meet him at his apartment.

Walking along the street, the air was brisk. And when you made it inside, knocking on the already open door, you didn't spot Ethan. You headed to his room, again knocking, but hearing no reply.

You stepped through the doorway, smiling as you saw his phone light up, his lockscreen an image of you. You walked farther in, really taking in his room, without the distraction of the curly haired boy. You happily rushed to his bed, laying against the pillow you had slept on last night.

But you pause, not feeling the cushy intend you had felt yesterday. This time it felt hard, and when you pulled the pillow away your smile started to fall. Because on the sheet you saw a knife. Your breathing picked up, as you try to push it away to the sole fact of the rampid Ghostface. But then you dared to pull away the other pillow to see wrinkled photos...of you.

Picking them up, you could feel the pulse in your neck beat harder, your blood suddenly feeling cold. Because the fingerprints that had creased the photos were stained with blood.

Now I’m finding knives under the sheets

Crumbled photographs of me

I’m in despair

Should I be scared?

You again didn’t hear when Ethan pressed his hand against the wall, his fist clenching around the plaster as he watched you stare at the things you weren’t meant to find.

“Oh, sweet y/n.” He muttered, making you jump out of your skin as you stood and spun. Your breathing is making you choke now as you stare at Ethan’s scowl and dark eyes. You didn’t know him. Not this version of him.

“What—“ you gulp, shutting your eyes to reassess. You open them continuing. “What is that. Those. Why are they there?” You quickly speak. You’re still begging that your mistaken.

Ethan steps closer, the door slowly shutting behind him. You shake your head, muttering ��no’. “Ethan.” You say, your tone desperate as he looms near.

“Why did you have to find those?” He asks, as you back up.

“They were under your pillows.” You pause. “Were they always there? Last night-“

“No.” Ethan cuts in. “They were under the bed last night.”

You felt sick. “Ethan why— why is there blood?” Your voice has grown quiet.

Ethan steps closer. “Stop.” Your warn.

He doesn’t, managing to corner you against the wood of the bed. Your breathing is staticky as Ethan’s breath hit your lips. But this time you don’t want to lean forward and kiss him.

“Ethan.” You try to sound stronger, but he’s now grabbing your arm, a solid hand slipping around your waist as he pulls you flush against him. You try to push away, hopefully run out, but Ethan switches the grip on your arm to an even tighter grip on your jaw.

“I didn’t plan to do this so soon.” He began, staying extremely close. “I was actually hoping we could have more fun before.”

“Before what?” You hiss, though your voice shakes.

He grins, a maniacal smile that has you regretting ever meeting him. “I wanted to do more than just kiss you.” He continues, ignoring your question, as he brushes away hair that had started to cover your face in your distress.

He leans to your ear, now fully feeling the shake of your body. “I’ve watched you for while, coming up with fantasies of how I’d look between your legs.”

Your breath hitched. “Or how I’d feel inside you, listening to the pretty sounds you’d mumble out.”

His grip around your waist tightened. “Or how the colour red would look gushing out of your stomach.” His tone dropped, and that part of you that stupidly said ‘you were mistaken’ has left, packed its bags and left. Left you alone with a boy who now wishes to see you hurt. Dead.

“Please.” You say. You didn’t want to die, and in this moment you past the ‘acting tough’. You were scared. “Ethan, please.”

He grabs your face between his hands, cooing at your pitying words. “Oh, y/n. I knew you begging would sound so good.”

You try to shake your head in his grasp but he tightens his hold. “No, I can give you that much. I’m so glad I got such a pretty victim.” His breath tickled your lips as you shook. He was going to kill you.

But what Ethan didn’t know, and what you had finally decided to use was the knife he had hid under the pillow. You plunged it into his gut, trying not to let your hands shake.

Ethan stumbled back, as you shoved him, not daring to look at the blood as you ran out the door.

Teddy bear, you were my teddy bear

You were comforting and quiet

How did our love become so violent?

Teddy bear, you were my teddy bear

Everything was so sweet until you tried to kill me

You locked yourself in your apartment, finally letting the tears fall. You hadn’t wanted to break down in front of him. You never want to be in front of him again. Your love was a lie. And now you hate that you had called it love.

He had smiled at you, appearing so innocent, and all you had done was smile back, even let him kiss you. Let him hold you, when he had a knife under his bed.

La, la, la, la, la

You drowned out most of your life, putting your soul into studying. You said you were sick, going online for classes instead. You couldn’t dare see Ethan. You knew he was alive, your stab hadn’t been that fatal and you weren’t in the right mind to make it.

As you stared at your assignment, the computer screen seeming to hurt your eyes more than usual. You rubbed them, leaning back in your desk chair, your knees up by your chest.

For some reason it was this day that it all clicked. Ghostface was in New York City, and how stupid of you to not assume Ethan as the killer after all that. Your bloodied photos and the knife you had stabbed him with were all abetting to his psychotic nature.

Ethan had stitched himself up, having had to learn after the few first brutal scraps his family’s plan had given him. But as he cleaned the blood all he could think about was you.

And not for the fact that you had hurt him, but for the fear in your eyes. It had given him a rush that reminded him of why he had agreed to this. He liked that sense of power.

Ethan threw the first aid kit in the cupboard, turning in the kitchen. He remembered the meal you cooked. It had been very good, one he kind of wishes he could try again.

Though he did need you dead, there was no deadline or a date. Not an exact one anyhow. He had meant to spend more time with you, because as strange as it was he liked your company. He liked how he felt around you. And though he likes your look of fear he still likes your look of love.

Your eyes would gleam as they gazed at him. He would always want to grab you in someway when you stared at him like that. And again strangely not to hurt but to feel. He wanted to feel your body, and not just over the clothes. He wanted to touch you, every inch.

And now you wouldn’t let him. You wouldn’t dare touch him again. He couldn’t feel your lips again, and the rush of you kissing him back.

He was alone in his bed now, the sheets cold, and a permanent frown on his face. No—he thought, he wouldn’t let you waste the time he had planned.

He would see you again.

When you got back home from a food run, ramen noodles on your mind your phone began to ring. Glancing at the device buzzing on the table, you didn’t think much.

You place it to your hear. “Hello?” You ask, already taking out your desired food.

“Hello, y/n.”

You freeze, hearing the modulated voice of Ghostface. You didn’t have any point blank evidence placing Ethan as the masked killer, but you were sure, your gut churning with what had to be truth.

“Don’t call back.” You say, immediately hanging up.

But of course the moment you go to place it down it rings again. You let your phone fall back onto the table, turning to boil the kettle. You had to get your mind elsewhere.

But the ringing got excessive, even after putting it on silent mode, that you stupidly picked it up again, anger seeping through you. “Listen—“

“Shut your pretty little mouth and don’t you dare hang up on me again.” Ghostface’s harsh voice bled into your hear, making you internally wince. You were scared.

You gulp as Ghostface continues. “Good.” His tone lightens when you stay on the phone.

“What is it?” You ask evenly.

“Your voice is so lovely, did you know that?” He praises, sending a shiver down your spine.

“And yours is fake.” You counter, making a chuckle erupt on the other line.

“Very true.” He says lightheartedly. “Or you could call it mysterious.”

“It’s not mysterious if I know who you are.” You say, your hand gripping the counter.

“Oh, you know me?” He asks.

“I know it’s you, Ethan.” You hiss. “And don’t you dare try to bullshit me.”

“Such a dirty mouth.” He scolds. “Maybe I should clean it for you. Perhaps with my tongue.” He pauses, a smile you can practically hear edging his lips. “Or maybe I should shove something else in there.”

You stiffen, knowing what he’s saying and also knowing what he’s doing. “I’m not gonna fall for any of that. You want to kill me. You’ve always wanted to kill me.”

I threw you out, I didn’t outgrow you

I just didn’t know you

But now you’re back

And now it’s terrifying how you paralyse me

“And you think that’s all?” He probes.

“That’s all I care to know.”

“Well I care to know more.” He says, shuffling heard on the other line. “Much more.”

You hear a creak, making you spin. Your gaze darts around your kitchen, your body feeling more tense than ever. No. He can’t be…

“Would you like to know what I want to know?” He whispers through the line. “Or should I tell you how I planned your death? It’s rather gruesome—”

“Don’t.” You hiss, feeling sick.

You hear what seems to be a knock on the wall. Turning to face your living room, your phone plastered to the side of your face, you see no figure. But your gut tells you otherwise.

You step farther out, grabbing a knife out from the drawer.

“I want to know if your skin is as smooth as I’d fantasised.” He starts, still keeping that low, quiet tone.

You hate the way your body has turned hot with all his nasty words, that should make you repulsed, and you are, but not enough.

“I want to know if you would scream when you orgasm all over my fingers.”

More knocks that sound like taps. And you know, the dread fully settling in. He’s inside.

Now you’re showing up inside my house

Breathing deep down the phone

I’m so unprepared, I’m fucking scared

Your grip tightens around the knife, as you make it to your hallway. The dim lighting—not having turned on all the lights—really sets the terrifying mood.

The taps are the loudest in your room. You pause in front of your door, knife ready. You had to be ready.

Twisting the handle you heard final words spoken through the phone before he hung up. “And I’m going to find out.”

Fully regretting not just running out your front door, you catch sight of Ethan, pulling his mask off—that held the modulator inside.

He didn’t wear the Ghostface cloak, as he swiftly grabbed you, slamming your bedroom door after.

His breath hit your face and you shudder. That’s when you remember the knife, but so does Ethan. He’s already grabbed it out of your grasp, turning you around so that your back hits your bed.

You gasp as Ethan cages you in, his legs landing either side of you as he leans forward. A smile is large on his face as his breath yet again tickles your lips. They slightly quivered as fear coursed through you.

Teddy bear, you were my teddy bear

You were comforting and quiet

How did our love become so violent?

Teddy bear, you were my teddy bear

Everything was so sweet until you tried to kill me

Then, as of it was a relief for him, he kissed you. A bruising one that left your head spinning, as he lapped at your tongue, groaning into your mouth.

He didn’t break away, moving his head to create a rhythm as all you could do was kiss back. He liked kissing you. He liked your lips. They were always so pink. But as he finally broke for air he got to see your lips now swollen and a lovely red.

He kissed your jaw and your neck, biting, licking and sucking. His panting breath, along with the whimpers you were trying to keep concealed, made his head spin. He grinned against your skin.

“You stabbed me.” He said kissing your rapidly beating pulse.

“You deserved it. And you don’t deserve—“

“This?” He cuts in, guessing. “Oh, yes I do, y/n.” He grabs your jaw pulling your lips back to kiss his. “Because I haven’t gotten to feel you properly yet.” He bit your lip backing away.

His hand has slipped under your shirt, rubbing at your soft skin. He kisses down your body, your back unintentionally arching. He lifts your shirt to place a sloppy kiss on your stomach, making it contract.

“Your skin is really soft.” He mutters, his finger grazing across your ribs and up to your bra.

La, la, la, la, la

Teasing the material of your bra, his grip tightens around the knife you had oh so kindly gotten for him.

Your eyes grew wide when you caught this, but he doesn’t gut you, he instead cuts the fabric of your clothes, ripping them away making your body squirm and shiver.

Ethan moans when he sees you, his hand grabbing at your body immediately, rubbing over every curve, as you try to grab his hand. He swiftly places himself on top of you, kissing you again as he eats at your tongue.

You gasp when you feel a nick on your lip, his teeth having bitten down hard. Ethan leans back to stare at your much redder lips. He lifts the knife as you shut your eyes. But again he doesn’t stab you, he just wipes your blood with the cold metal.

You open your eyes to see him dripping your blood down the knife. Your watching him confused.

He catches your gaze, as the red has stained most of the tip of the possible weapon.

“I want a lot more time with you, y/n.” Ethan says, placing the partly bloodied knife on your bedside table. “But they want me to hurt you now.”

He settles back over you, licking the remainder of the blood of your bottom lip, as his chest heaves and his eyes hood over with lust. “So to make it look convincing.” He glances at the knife, the blood already beginning to dry. “I made some evidence.”

You gape at him, not knowing what this means.

He kisses you, pushing himself further against you, as he wraps his arms around your body, pulling you closer to his eager and almost desperate mouth.

I’m fucking scared

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Synopsis: Tabito Karasu has been in love with you for almost as long as he can remember. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like you have any intentions of reciprocating, considering you’ve only ever seen him as a child — and, more importantly, as your best friend’s little brother.

BLLK Masterlist | Part Two | Otoya Version

Pairing: Karasu x Reader

Total Word Count: 41.6k

Content Warnings: reader is older than karasu (by like two years so it’s nbd but it exists), no blue lock au, bratty baby karasu, jealous karasu, slow burn, childhood friends, i have no idea how to write kids just deal w it, karasu’s older sister is given a name (look at that word count LMAO i’m not calling her ‘karasu’s older sister’ the entire time), reader gets drunk at one point, karasu the goat of pining, yukimiya and otoya mentions ⁉️

A/N: yes this is inspired by the song “best friend’s brother” from victorious but has barely anything to do with it. yes this is probably the longest karasu fic you will ever read as of its publishing date (word count is not a typo it fr is that long). yes reader and karasu are fuck ass little kids for half of the fic. i have nothing to say for myself except that i love karasu so much and i cannot be stopped…also tumblr is an opp so i had to split this into two parts EEK i’m sorry!!

In a sea of bright, patterned umbrellas, only one was dark and plain. It was wide, the practical sort, all but dwarfing the girl who held it as she hurried along to the covered entrance of the school, her shoulders hunched against the wind and her steps brisk. You thought that she seemed small for your age, like a particularly strong breeze might blow her away entirely, and strangely gloomy, though this might’ve been an effect of the weather and not her personality.

Your own umbrella was cheery, a pink-striped thing that announced its presence in a most domineering way and clashed with the shades of orange and teal and green around it. You had found it pretty when your parents had given it to you, but now you were much more taken with the sole matte black one that wove in and out of the crowd, the clear raindrops resting on it like diamonds.

By the time you were past the cherry trees lining the parking lot, you had lost the girl and her black umbrella alike. It should’ve been impossible, considering what an anomaly it was, but then again that color was like a shadow, blending in unless one looked for it very carefully, and sometimes even then.

You would’ve worried, but you had bigger problems to be preoccupied with — namely, it was your first day of elementary school, and you had no idea what to expect. Setting the girl out of your mind, you used your free hand to fiddle with the name tag on your breast pocket, ducking under the roof before closing your umbrella and shaking the excess water off of it. Then you scurried after an older student who seemed like they knew where they were going, following them until you found yourself in a corridor you recognized from the tour you had taken with your parents prior to the start of the year.

In the classroom, there was a shelf where you could put your wet umbrellas in neat rows. You didn’t see any rhyme or reason to how they had been arranged, except that everyone had avoided putting theirs beside the dull, dark umbrella that you had admired. Glancing around at the rest of your classmates, who had already grouped themselves into loose clusters based on their seats, you set your umbrella beside the black one. For some reason, the pink stripes at that angle resembled frowns; you found it suitable, then, that those two were the only ones on that shelf. They seemed to go together, depressed and angry in turn.

Although you had not seen the girl’s face, you recognized her immediately. She sat apart from everyone else, her spindly limbs held close to her body, her heart-shaped face dominated by a pair of sapphire eyes, hair like an oil spill pulled into a high ponytail that cascaded down her back like tail-feathers. At first glance, she was unassuming, and at second she was entirely off-putting, but you were contrarian enough to take a third, and it was only then that you realized she was actually magnetic in a way, her lips pulled into a serene smile, her irises lively and brows high with interest.

“Hello,” you said, taking the seat beside her. “I’m Y/N L/N.”

It was the radical thing, what you had done in willingly isolating yourself from the others, but you found that you had no interest in those shallow peers of yours, who had not bothered to look at a person three times and see the truth of their being. This girl, with her black umbrella and her keen gaze and her bird-like countenance, was the only one in the entire room you wanted to befriend.

“Are you talking to me?” she said. Her accent was more pronounced than yours, which resembled the one of your Tokyo-born parents’ far more than it did the rougher cadences that most people in the region spoke with. The boisterousness of her voice contrasted sharply with her frail appearance, though to charming effect, and it warmed you to her even more.

“Uh-huh,” you said. “It’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

“Karasu,” she said. “Yayoi Karasu. Good to meet you, too, L/N.”

Karasu. She was a crow, and as pretty and sharp as one, too. It was more fitting of a name than it ought to be, and you nodded, because your childish mind liked when things made sense, could be categorized into labeled boxes. Black umbrella. Blue eyes. Crow-wing hair. Yayoi Karasu.

“Let’s be friends,” you said, and maybe it was a blunt, straightforward request, but she did not seem to mind it.

“You want to be friends with me?” she said.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you said. She shrugged, bony shoulders brushing against her earlobes from the jerky motion.

“Don’t know. Just doesn’t seem like the others want to,” she said.

“The others are stupid. They’ll feel bad about it later, but by then we won’t need them,” you said.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s be friends, L/N.”

“If we’re friends, then you can call me Y/N,” you said.

She grinned, wide and gleaming. “Only if you call me Yayoi. Just Yayoi.”

When you got home that night, the first thing you did was race to the living room, where your mother was sitting, knitting needles stationary in her hands as she watched a drama.

“Mama!” you said, jumping onto the sofa beside her, tugging on her sleeve until she paused her show and looked at you. “Mama, I made a friend today.”

“Did you? How exciting! What’s their name?” she said.

“Yayoi Karasu, but she said I can just say Yayoi ’cause we’re friends,” you said.

“That’s wonderful,” your mother said. “Do you want to have Yayoi over sometime?”

“Hm, yes, I think so,” you said, already envisioning how fun it would be to play with her outside of school. You supposed you didn’t know much about what she liked to do, but you doubted it was anything you wouldn’t also enjoy, so there wouldn’t be a problem. There couldn’t be — the two of you were friends, and there were never problems between friends.

Within two weeks came an invitation, made before you could extend your own. The Karasu family wanted you to come over, and though your parents wished they had asked first, they did not mind that you were going, especially considering how elated you were when you relayed the news.

It was a short walk to Yayoi’s house, or perhaps it was that you were so excited which shortened the distance; either way, it hardly took any time at all before you and your mother were at their doorstep. You hid behind her leg when she knocked, suddenly timid, although you had no reason to be.

The woman who answered the door resembled Yayoi greatly, though she was fuller and taller and exuded an air of great confidence. She could only be Yayoi’s mother, and you wondered if this was the kind of person Yayoi would grow up to be.

“Are you Mrs. Karasu?” your mother said. The woman nodded, gesturing you into the home invitingly.

“Yes! You must be Mrs. L/N — Y/N’s mother?” she said.

“That’s right. Y/N, please say hello to Mrs. Karasu,” your mother said.

“Hello, Mrs. Karasu,” you said, your voice catching in the back of your throat. She had the same voice as Yayoi, the same exuberance to her words and geniality to her tone, but coming from her, it was almost intimidating.

“Yayoi should be in the playroom — down that hallway, the first door on your left. I’m surprised she didn’t come to the door to greet you; your visit is all she’s been able to talk about for the entire week,” Mrs. Karasu said.

“Y/N, too,” your mother said affectionately. You left them to speak in the kitchen, darting in the direction Mrs. Karasu had indicated, ducking into an appealingly decorated playroom.

The walls were painted pale yellow, and there were colorful bins stacked in the corners, labels written on them in black marker which detailed what their contents were. There was no sign of Yayoi, but in the center of the room, surrounded by a rainbow of blocks, was a little boy holding a model train in his hands.

He had the same hair as Yayoi, though while hers was sleek and flat, his stuck up every which way, a bitter warning to those who might’ve tried to tame it. His cheeks were rounder than hers, and his eyes were darker, the same deep shade as mulberry stains, but there was undeniably a resemblance between the two.

Though he was quite taken by the train he was playing with, he looked up when you opened the door to the room, and then he cocked his head, thick eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“Do you know where Yayoi is?” you tried, hoping he could understand you. He was obviously younger than you and Yayoi, though you were unsure by how much — a year? Two?

“Ya-yi?” he repeated, stumbling over her name endearingly.

“Yes, Yayoi,” you said. “Where is she?”

He hummed in a whimsical way which clearly meant he had no clue, and then he raised his hand with the toy in it, beaming at you.

“D’you like my train?” he said.

“Yeah, it’s a cool color,” you said, not wanting to hurt his feelings. As an only child, this sort of interaction was out of your realm of expertise, but for some reason, you had an urge to try your best.

“My favorite,” he said. “Light blue.”

“That’s a good favorite,” you said. “So. Are you Yayoi’s little brother?”

“Yes,” he said enthusiastically. “I’m Tabito. Who are you? Ya-yi’s friend?”

“I’m Y/N,” you said. “Yayoi’s friend from school.”

“Y/N!” he said, like your name was the greatest word he had ever learned. “Let’s play trains! Can you play trains with me? Can we please play trains?”

You frowned. You needed to find Yayoi, but it wasn’t like you could wander around their house aimlessly, and Mrs. Karasu knew you were in the playroom, so your best course of action was staying put until your friend found you. Then, if that was the case, there was really no harm in obliging him, even if you weren’t an avid train enthusiast.

“Sure, alright,” you said, sitting down across from him and holding your hand out. “Give me one.”

He blinked at you. “Get your own.”

“I don’t know where you keep them, so I can’t,” you said.

“Then, um, then you can build, okay?” he said, piling blocks into your waiting hands. “Make a bridge. Do you know what a bridge is?”

“Yes?” you said. He seemed delighted by this, his entire face glowing from the simple affirmation; eager to keep his spirits high, you pointed at a point on the carpet. “Can I build it here?”

“Um…okay,” he said. It didn’t seem like he was particularly keen on the notion, but you were out of ideas at that point, so you just shrugged and began to stack the blocks into something resembling the bridges you had driven past on trips to your grandparents’ respective homes in Tokyo.

Tabito was too busy rolling the trains around the playroom to supervise your attempts at construction, so you were left to your own devices, designing it in the way you saw fit. Right when you had deemed the structure finished and turned to ask him if he liked it, the door to the playroom slammed open and Yayoi bounced in, hugging a hamper to her chest.

“Y/N! I’m sorry, I went to get all of my toys from my room, but then I had to go to the bathroom, so that’s why I’m late,” she said.

“It’s okay,” you said.

“Ya-yi!” Tabito said. “You’re playing with your upstairs toys? Can I also?”

“No way!” Yayoi said, hiding the hamper behind her. “Go somewhere else and leave Y/N and I alone!”

His lower lip trembled, and then, though he had been so happy only moments earlier, he broke into wailing sobs, causing Yayoi to groan and face-palm. Within seconds, Mrs. Karasu had burst into the room, looking around and only calming when she realized you were all alright, or at the least uninjured.

“What’s the matter?” she said.

“I told Tabito to leave Y/N and I alone and he just started crying!” Yayoi said.

“You should be nicer to your younger brother,” her mother reprimanded her, hands on her hips. “He’s still little. It’s up to you to be the bigger person in these kinds of disagreements.”

“I don’t wanna! He’s annoying! Can’t you take him away? We want to play with our toys now!” Yayoi said.

Tabito cried harder at this, hiccuping as Mrs. Karasu swept him into her arms with a sigh.

“Now, now, Tabito, don’t be upset,” she said, using her sleeve to wipe his teary cheeks. “Let’s go watch TV and let your sister play with her friend.”

“Okay!” he said, the tantrum dissipating as quickly as it had come. He rested his chin on his mother’s shoulder, waving a small hand at you as he and Mrs. Karasu rounded the corner, leaving you and Yayoi to play on your own.

“Finally,” Yayoi said. “Little brothers are the worst.”

“He made me build a bridge for his trains,” you said, pointing at your attempt at architecture. Yayoi giggled.

“That looks nothing like a bridge,” she said.

“I did my best,” you said. “How old is he?”

“He’s four,” she said. “And a total pain.”

“Really?” you said. Setting aside the fit he had had when Yayoi had demanded he leave, he hadn’t seemed like anything but a typical and cute little kid.

“You don’t get it because you don’t have to live with him, but he’s the worst,” she said. “And my mom always takes his side, too! It’s super unfair.”

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“Don’t you have any siblings?” she said.

“No, I’m an only child,” you said.

“Ah, that makes sense,” she said. “Anyways. Sorry you had to play with him.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” you said. “I didn’t mind.”

“Huh. Whatever; do you want to see my favorite stuffed animals?” she said.

“Sure!” you said. She dumped the contents of the hamper on the floor, and thus began your playdate, which mostly consisted of her introducing her toys to you and you clapping appropriately.

You were fairly certain Yayoi was a good friend — in fact, you supposed you could even call her your best friend, though you didn’t have many others who could’ve taken the position, so it was as much by default as it was out of any perceived loyalty. Even still, it was true that she was someone you were genuinely fond of, and who was genuinely fond of you in return, so the title was earned and not just awarded at random.

It was nice being with Yayoi. As you came to learn, she was more practical than gloomy and more shy than off-putting. Once those initial guards came down, she was as affable as anyone, or maybe even more so. Your prediction came true in another sense; now that your classmates, too, saw the truth of yours and Yayoi’s personalities, they began to seek you out in droves, trying to befriend you both, to bring you into their folds and mix you into their exclusive groups.

The two of you entertained these attempts, of course — neither of you were loners at heart, and indeed felt quite at ease amidst throngs of people — but in the end, you never strayed far from each other. It was a known fact that you and her were best friends, that where one of you went, the other would not be far behind, and so your peers quickly decided to go for a sort of joint-befriending strategy.

“L/N, Karasu, do you guys want to come to the park with us this weekend? My mom’s bringing snacks and stuff,” one of your classmates asked you. You had advanced a grade since you had all met for the first time, so in theory all of you had known one another for at least a year at this point, but all you could recall of the short, stocky boy was that his name was something like Akamine or Arakawa.

Typically, Yayoi would glance at you for confirmation, but today she rapidly nodded her head at the boy. Akamine? Arakawa? You wished that he would introduce himself so you were spared the embarrassment of asking.

“We’d love to, Aoyama. Thank you for inviting us,” she said. Aoyama. You had been astoundingly off the mark; silently thanking Yayoi, who had no doubt picked up on your struggle if not your distaste, you grunted.

“Sure,” you said. You had no great desire to go, not when this Saturday was supposed to be the first fair day after a week of rain. You’d rather spend it doing something of your own choosing, not playing in a park with people you hardly knew. But Yayoi was going, so you would, too, dutifully and without much complaint. “Though we’ll have to ask our parents first.”

It was just a formality. Neither Yayoi’s parents nor yours ever denied you from frolicking about with your school-friends, as long as you had done everything you needed to at home. In Yayoi’s case, it was that they were happy that she was coming out of her shell so rapidly, and for you, it was because your parents found it difficult to say no to you when you were their only and most beloved child.

As your mother’s weather app had predicted, there was sunlight on Saturday — gray and watery, to be sure, but it held fast in its patch of sky, its small corner of periwinkle which contrasted with the silvery lavender of the looming thunderheads threatening another storm in the near future.

You arrived at the park before Yayoi, and so you pretended to be famished, looking through the snacks that Aoyama’s mother had brought while you waited for her to come.

When she did, it was with an expression not too dissimilar to the clouds on the horizon on her face and a set of small fingers squeezed in between hers, their owner struggling to keep up with her furious, stomping pace.

“You brought Tabito?” you said when she reached where you were waiting. Her younger brother stood at her side, wearing a dark blue raincoat and a pair of black mittens, though it wasn’t that cold out. Someone — you could only assume his mother — had attempted to comb his hair back into something resembling a neat style, but they had mostly been unsuccessful, for it had not been tamed any.

“It wasn’t my choice,” Yayoi said, shooting the oblivious boy a dark glare. “My mom made me. According to her, it’s good for siblings to play together.”

“Look, Y/N,” Tabito said, pulling on your sleeve to get your attention and then opening his mouth wide, revealing a gaping hole in the row of his pearly upper teeth. “I lost my first tooth!”

“Did you throw it in the air?” you said.

“Of course,” he said, very self-importantly and more than a little derisively, as if you had been a fool to suggest otherwise.

“Good job,” you said. He was in his last year of kindergarten, and so he would soon join you and Yayoi at your school, which meant he was eager to learn everything he could from you in order to prepare for the momentous leap. This meant that there was not a person in the world who was a better listener than him; given, of course, that one was prepared to entertain his multitude of questions and did not find the curiosity to be a nuisance.

“Yayoi, can we go on the swings?” he said. He had, in the time you had known the two of them, accustomed himself to saying her name properly, though this was only a small consolation to the irritable Yayoi, who would rather he not say her name at all.

“Maybe later,” she said. “Right now, Y/N and I are going to play with our friends, but after that, we can go on the swings, okay? You just sit here and don’t get into trouble for a bit.”

For a moment, it seemed like he would argue, but around Tabito, Yayoi became a much bossier and more tyrannical version of herself, a version whose commands were impossible to deny, and so he only nodded.

“Come back quickly so we can swing,” he said beseechingly. Yayoi ruffled his hair, undoing her mother’s efforts entirely, and then she jutted her chin out in the direction of your classmates.

“We’ll be back before you know it,” she said.

“Do you think he’ll be okay if we just leave him there?” you said as you both walked towards where everyone was gathering on the slides.

“Yes, it’s not an issue,” she said. “He’ll be mopey for a bit, but that’s just the way of things. It’s his fault for getting upset when I said he couldn’t come with me and involving our mom in it! If he wanted to swing, he should’ve just waited until tomorrow when I said the two of us could go by ourselves instead of insisting he wanted to come today and see all of my friends.”

“Aw,” you said. “It’s kind of sweet that he wanted to meet your friends.”

“Try stupid,” she said. “Do you think any of them, besides you, will really be nice to him? It would’ve been better if he just stayed at home, but I didn’t want my mom to get mad at me.”

“That’s true,” you said. “Well, you would know better, so don’t take me too seriously.”

“I wish we could swap places,” she said. “I’d love to be an only child, and obviously you want a younger brother, so it would make everyone happy if we could trade roles, don’t you think?”

“You’d be sad if you didn’t have a sibling,” you said. “It’s a little bit lonely sometimes.”

“Seriously, you can have Tabito if you want,” she scoffed. “You’ll change your mind soon enough.”

She got carried away in a conversation with Aoyama after that. He was only too happy to oblige, although a needling sensation on the back of your neck alerted you to the fact that he was gazing at you all the while. You paid him no mind, though, preferring to observe everyone as they mingled about, waiting to see if anyone you could manage to tolerate would manifest.

Aoyama and his ilk were the sort of boneheaded future sports players that you least preferred. Normally, you were more outgoing than this, but in a group where you were so glaringly out of place, you withdrew into yourself, shrinking like a violet away from their brashness, which lacked a necessary amiability that would’ve made them far more approachable.

At one point, in an attempt to avoid Aoyama and his frequent stares, you glanced over your shoulder, pretending like you were checking on Tabito out of some sisterly duty. As an extension of Yayoi, it only made sense that you’d feel that same protective instinct for him, so no one questioned it when you muttered a quick farewell and made a beeline for where he was sitting.

Somehow, he had managed to stay in one place on the bench, his hands folded in his lap and his legs kicking in the air as he looked out at Yayoi forlornly. For some reason, he reminded you of a kitten which had been abandoned by its owner, so you stopped before him and poked him on the forehead to get his attention.

“Tabito,” you said. “Do you still want to go on the swings?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Is Yayoi coming?”

“Not yet,” you said. “But we can go together if you want.”

“You don’t want to play with your friends?” he said, hopping down from the bench and following you towards the swings anyways.

“Not really,” you said. “I’m only close with Yayoi anyways, and she’s busy with Aoyama at the moment.”

“Oh,” he said. It was an utterance filled with wisdom, or maybe that was just the impression he was trying to give off. Yet you earnestly believed at that moment that, despite his age, he understood what you meant when you said that, so you chose to think that it was the former.

“Do you need help getting on the swing?” you said when you reached the swing set.

“No, I can do it!” he said. “Watch, watch!”

He executed an inexplicable series of maneuvers that you could neither replicate nor even fathom, but somehow it ended up with him sitting squarely on the swing, his pale-knuckled hands gripping the chains tightly.

“Wow,” you said. “That was cool. Are you ready?”

“Yup!” he said. You pushed his back lightly, sending him soaring into the air, and the two of you continued in that manner for a while. It was meditative in a way; your mind was blank and the world was silent, save for the whistling of the wind. You didn’t have to care about what your annoying classmates would say next, or whether they were named Akamine or Arakawa or Aoyama or whatever.

If Tabito was your little brother, you’d take him to the playground every single day, and you’d push him on the swing for as long as he wanted. You were overcome with a sickening wave of jealousy for Yayoi, who could’ve done that but never did, and you wondered if this was how she felt towards you. Was it really that no one could ever just be satisfied with what they had? If you had been born with a sibling, would you have detested them as surely as Yayoi did Tabito?

There was another roll of thunder, louder and nearer this time than the last. A fat droplet of rain landed on your nose, and when Tabito next came closer to you, you caught him so that he would stop.

“What happened?” he said. “I want to keep swinging.”

“It looks like it’s about to start raining earlier than we thought,” you said. There was another droplet of rain, and then another, and another, in quicker and quicker succession until there was a verifiable deluge coming down. Tabito slid off of the swing, his left hand in your right as he pulled the hood of his raincoat up.

“Tabito!” It was Yayoi, running towards you and shouting frantically. “Y/N!”

“Yayoi, we should go!” you said as she skidded to a stop in the mulch bed of the swing set. She nodded, her eyelashes already clumping together, water trickling down her forehead. Grabbing Tabito’s other hand, she used her arm to cover her head, and you mirrored her actions, though it didn’t do much in the way of keeping you dry.

“My house is closer!” she shouted over another crack of thunder. All of you took off at a sprint, splashing through rapidly forming puddles without abandon as you raced towards her house, dragging Tabito along with you.

There was a sort of euphoria to it, and indeed you were all laughing as you went, despite the terror you felt with every new stroke of lightning. Tabito made sure to bring down his feet extra hard in the puddles, much to yours and Yayoi’s collective chagrin, as you were continuously sprayed with mud from his actions, but it was hard to tell him to stop when he was enjoying himself so thoroughly.

The three of you collapsed in the Karasus’ foyer right before the drumming beat of the rain increased even more, locking the door behind you and gasping for breath as you recovered from the exhausting run, Tabito sprawled atop Yayoi and your head leaning against her shoulder.

“I’m glad we’re all alright,” Yayoi said, hugging her brother tightly. He squirmed in her embrace, which only prompted her to squeeze him tighter until he yelled in protest.

“You three are a mess!” Mrs. Karasu said. Either the shutting of the door or Tabito’s shout had summoned her; regardless, she looked down at the set of you in fond disapproval, tugging you all to your feet. “By the time I’m done calling Y/N’s parents and letting them know where she is, I expect all of you to be washed up and in fresh clothes!”

You all exchanged glances before running up the stairs, shoving each other out of the way as you went, none of you wanting to be the last one to follow her directives, leaving behind wet footprints on the carpet wherever you stepped.

The next year, Tabito started primary school. For the most part, he walked to and from the building with you and Yayoi, holding onto his sister’s hand and listening to your conversations, frequently peppering his own interjections in. Every Wednesday, though, Yayoi had badminton club meetings, and you had art club, so he was left to walk by himself. Conversely, on Thursdays, he had soccer club — he was one of the youngest members, but he had been playing for two years at that point and could not fathom not joining the school team — which meant that you and Yayoi could dawdle as you wanted, walking at your own paces instead of the erratic one that Tabito often set.

That Wednesday, you were approached by Aoyama, who was a fellow member of the art club. He had neither the skill nor the aptitude for it, his paintings messy, the strokes of his calligraphy thick and runny, but no one could say he wasn’t determined. More than anyone in the entire club, he really tried his hardest, which was likely the sole reason he hadn’t yet been kicked out.

“Hey, L/N,” he said, jamming himself in between you and Yayoi as you walked to your afternoon classes. You sighed, having never found him agreeable despite how persistent he was. Yayoi gave him a dirty look; whatever friendliness she had had for him last year had long since vanished, replaced with the same disdain you held.

“Yes, Aoyama?” you said.

“Did you see art club’s canceled today?” he said.

“No, I didn’t. I haven’t had the chance to check the bulletin board. Did it say why?” you said.

“The teacher’s sick,” he said.

“I hope she gets better soon,” you said.

“Me, too,” he said. “I love the art club.”

“You sure do,” Yayoi said under her breath, earning an appreciative snicker from you and a perplexed look from Aoyama. She was privy to everything that happened in the art club courtesy of you; in exchange, she kept you updated about the goings-on of the badminton club, though these stories were decidedly less amusing, owing to the fact that most of the badminton club members were too dedicated to the sport to waste time with anything foolish enough to be entertaining.

Aoyama was bad at telling when he was unwanted, but even he could not deny that his presence was not required, and furthermore was an active impediment to your day. With a mumbled goodbye, he sped up so that he could reach your classroom before you and Yayoi, finally leaving you be once more.

“He’s so weird,” you said.

“Right?” Yayoi said. “Totally crazy. At least he was kind of helpful this time and only let you know that you don’t have art club today.”

“True, I was kind of scared he’d try to invite us to hang out with him again,” you said with a shudder. The corners of her eyes crinkled in sympathy.

“I think his birthday’s coming up. Do you think we’ll get invited to the party?” she said.

“I don’t know. Probably not. Girls and boys don’t go to each other’s birthday parties,” you said. “He might, though. It seems like he thinks we’re friends.”

“I guess we’ll see,” she said. “Are you just going to go home after school, then?”

“Yeah, it’s not like I have anything else to do,” you said. “Want me to walk with Tabito?”

“He’ll be alright if you don’t, but if you want to go that way, then it wouldn’t hurt,” she said. There were two routes you could take to get home from the school; one passed by the Karasu house, and the other was slightly shorter but in a different direction. Technically, you could’ve taken the second route today, but you didn’t mind walking for an extra minute or so to help out.

“Sure, I can do that. Do you think he’ll wait in the usual spot?” you said.

“Probably not. It’s not like he knows your meeting was canceled,” she reasoned. “But you should be able to catch up to him pretty quickly. He’s kind of distractible.”

It was true. Though he was a quick walker, Tabito was prone to stopping and staring at things which only he noticed, so it was hard to actually get to places in a reasonable time with him. That fact, combined with your comparatively longer strides, meant that even if he didn’t explicitly wait for you, you’d almost surely be able to walk most of the way home with him.

Students rolled out like an orderly tide the moment the bell rang, a veritable ocean of pressed shirts and dark shoes and jostling bags. Without an agreed-upon meeting point, it was impossible to find a person in the throng, and indeed you did not even attempt it, merely weaving through until the crowd began to thin as everyone dispersed, heading in different directions towards their respective homes and after-school activities.

It took you longer than you expected to find Tabito. He was standing in a patch of grass along the side of the road, his chin tilted up as he stared at a bird in wonder; it was so quintessentially him that you did not realize at first that something was wrong.

“Tabito!” you said cheerfully, tapping on his shoulder to get his attention. “My art club meeting got canceled, so we can walk back — did something happen?”

The jewel-like shade of his irises threw the rosy rims around his eyes into further relief. His dark lashes were bunched together with wetness, and his cheeks were puffy. Though he fought it, his lower lip trembled, and he sniffed when he noticed you frowning.

“No,” he said.

“Obviously, something did,” you said matter-of-factly. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying,” he mumbled.

“You can tell me what’s bothering you. I won’t make fun of you or anything,” you said. He shrugged stubbornly, shifting from foot to foot, gripping the straps of his backpack in his fists. You tried to think of what could’ve upset him. “Did you get yelled at in class?”

“No,” he said.

“Did you get in a fight with one of your friends?” you said.

“No,” he said.

“Hm. Has someone been messing with you?” you said. He was silent, but you knew you must’ve hit the mark because his cool facade — which was already terribly maintained in the first place — crumbled away entirely, his face falling and a small hiccup escaping him. “Oh, I see. You should’ve said something to Yayoi and I. Who is it? I'll yell at them.”

“It won’t help if you do,” he said quietly. “It’s better to just ignore them. I mean, it’s an average problem, so don’t make a big deal about it. They’ll probably go away after a while.”

“But it isn’t fair for you to have to deal with that on your own,” you said. “It’s not like it’s your fault. People like that just pick on whoever they have the chance to pick on. There’s those kinds of kids in my grade, too. Like you said, it’s common, but that doesn’t mean you have to accept it.”

“If you say something, it’ll just be worse the next time,” he said. “They’ll go away if I don’t pay attention to them. It’s not like I even care what they say. It doesn’t matter to me.”

When you pretended to look at the road, he brought up his forearm, rubbing his sleeve against his eyes in the moment where there was no one to notice. You saw it, but you did not bring it up, recognizing that it was something he’d rather not discuss.

“Alright,” you said as you set out towards his house. “If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah,” he said.

“But if you change your mind, or if you’re ever having another problem, I hope you know I don’t mind helping,” you said. “Think of me as another Yayoi.”

“You’re not like Yayoi,” he said.

“Well, no, of course not,” you said. “I can be like an older sister for you, though, the way she is. Do you get it now?”

“I don’t want you to be an older sister for me,” he said crossly, kicking a piece of stray gravel across the road. “And I won’t have any other problems.”

The only way to tame his unruly hair was with wax, which made it as stiff as a board and completely impossible for you and Yayoi to ruffle it the way you used to. You had to settle for poking him in the cheek; considering it irritated him no less, it was a worthy substitute.

“Are you trying to be all grown up just because you’re in elementary school now? You’re still a little kid, so no need to act tough,” you said.

“I’m not a little kid!” he whined.

“Sure,” you said.

“I’m not! I’m only two years younger than you, it’s not a lot!” he insisted. You grinned at him.

“It is a lot. You just started elementary school, and this is my third year here. That means I’m way more experienced than you, so you should look up to me,” you said.

He folded his arms across his chest, grumbling something to himself that he wouldn’t dare vocalize to you, all thoughts of whoever had been bothering him earlier vanished. Maybe it wasn’t the best method of cheering him up, but though his mood had not improved, at least it had changed. That was the best you could do, so as he held onto your hand while you crossed the street, you congratulated yourself on the small victory.

As Tabito continued through primary school, two things became evident: one, he was uncannily smart, his eerily observant nature lending itself to a genuine academic prowess that one could consider exceptional, and two, because of his pride in this ability, he refused to ask anyone for assistance, no matter how hard he was struggling.

“It’s so dumb,” Yayoi told you one day at recess, scrubbing at a graphite stain that someone else had left on her desk. “He’s totally lost with long division, but whenever my parents or I offer to help him, he gets super mad at us. Even my grandma tried! Although she doesn’t really remember much about mathematics, so I don’t know what the point was there…”

“He’s always been the independent type, though,” you said. “It’s not a surprise.”

“It’ll be a surprise when he does terribly on his next test,” she said. “Considering how things have been going as of late and how badly he’s been doing on his homework assignments.”

You swept stray eraser bits littering the floor into a neat pile and then gathered them in a dustpan, pouring them into the trashcan Yayoi had dragged over for your convenience, thinking this over.

“I can try helping him,” you said. “You have badminton club today, right? So it’ll just be us two walking home. I can ask him if he wants me to explain it.”

Unlike the previous year, when both of your clubs had met on the same day, Yayoi’s badminton club meetings were now held on Thursdays. This was because the previous club supervisor had stepped down, and the sole teacher willing to fill the vacancy was only free on that day.

“Good luck with that,” Yayoi said.

“Tabito’s my buddy,” you said. “I’m sure he’ll be okay with it.”

Likely due to your closeness with Yayoi — you had been each other’s best friends for going on four years now, after all — you had built up some kind of relationship with her little brother, who was usually present whenever you went to see her. Most of the time it felt like he was your sibling, too, and certainly he was one of the few kids his age that you could tolerate without looking down on too much.

“Yayoi mentioned you’ve been having some trouble with long division,” you said that afternoon. It was a pleasant day, the vast blue of the sky unmarred by clouds, except for a few which were so fleecy and eggshell-pale that almost no one could be offended by them. The season was spring, and soon it would be unbearably hot, but for now, it was lovely and breezy and you were content with things as they were.

“She’s making it up,” Tabito said.

“Really? That’s great,” you said. “I always found long division super difficult. I had to have my parents explain it to me a few times before I got it.”

He eyed you warily. “You did? I thought you were good at school. Yayoi always says you’re the smartest person in your class.”

“I don’t know about being the smartest person in the class or anything, but I’m pretty good at school, yeah,” you said. “I mean, I always get full marks on my exams, don’t I? That’s because I don’t feel shy about asking for help when I need it. Isn’t it better to deal with problems when they first happen? Because if you wait too long, you’ll only get more and more lost; then, you’ll need even more help than if you had just gotten it out of the way at the start.”

“That’s true,” he said.

“If you don’t want Yayoi or your parents to help you, then I don’t mind doing it. We finished cleaning early in recess, so we got our homework done then, and my parents won’t mind if I stay at your house for a little bit,” you said.

“Okay!” he said eagerly. You were taken aback; you had fully believed that he’d take more convincing than just that, but here he was, as excited as anything, all but rejuvenated at the prospect. Perhaps it really was that relieving to be given the permission to ask for help as well as a method to receive it. “After you help me, can we play together?”

You didn’t necessarily want to play with him, but he said it with such wide, shimmery eyes that you could not help nodding in agreement. You weren’t quite sure what playing with him entailed, but you doubted it would be anything difficult, and you supposed you didn’t have much else to do that afternoon, so it wasn’t as if it was some great sacrifice.

Tabito and Yayoi’s grandmother was the only other one who was home at that time, so you and Tabito spread out your things on the dining table without worry, taking out pencils and graph paper so that you could discuss the issue at hand.

“What part are you having difficulty with?” you said.

“Um,” he said. You waited, but he only twirled his pencil in one hand, training his gaze on the blank sheet of paper.

“If you don’t tell me, I can’t explain it,” you said. “I won’t make fun of you.”

“You promise?” he said.

“Yes, I promise,” you said.

“All of it,” he said. “The teacher explained it too quickly.”

“That’s okay,” you said kindly. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Here, I’ll show you, and if it’s too fast, then tell me so I know to slow down.”

Thankfully, he was quick on the uptake, and within a few minutes, he was able to complete the practice problems on his homework without any hassle or intervention from you. You were glad to see the ease with which he approached the things he had been struggling with only moments previously, finding that his success was also yours, in a way.

He continued working until his entire sheet was filled out, and then he snapped the book shut and shoved it back in his bag. You did the same, clearing the table of the mess you had made and packing your own bag with your supplies.

“You didn’t forget that you’re going to play with me, right?” he said. You put your folder into the back pocket of your backpack and shook your head.

“No, but I don’t want the table to be disorderly if your parents come back from work early or if your grandmother needs it for something,” you said. He seemed suspicious, snatching your bag from you once he could tell that you were finished putting everything into it.

“I’ll put it with mine,” he informed you. “You can take it once we’re done playing.”

“Uh, okay,” you said, bemused. He ran up the stairs, a backpack hanging off of each arm, and returned with the same speed he had left with, a net in his hands. You gave him a confused look at the odd choice in toys. “What’s that for?”

“It’s springtime, so we can catch bugs,” he said, unlatching the back door. You made a face, having no interest in bugs, but you had said that you’d play with him already, so with a sigh, you traipsed out into the Karasus’ backyard with him.

Fortunately, Tabito was pretty flexible with his definition of playing. He wandered around, capturing bugs and bringing them to you so you could see, but for the most part he left you to sit under one of their flowering trees, leaning against the trunk and closing your eyes in something that was not quite sleep but was very close to it.

The blossoms perfumed the air so that it was sweet and fresh, and the shadows of the tree-boughs were lacy and delicate on your face. Petals fell into your hair and against your skin, and a soft wind murmured through the grass, swearing a million hushed things to you, things that you could only decipher at this edge of consciousness.

You realized dreamily that it had been quite some time since you had been jostled awake by Tabito, who up until that point had been quite steadily displaying his catches — which were mostly of the mundane, garden variety — to you with great flourish. Wondering what he was doing, you fluttered your eyes open, only to find him standing a few steps in front of you, his net loose at his side, wearing an expression of awe the likes of which you had never seen on anyone before, least of all him. When you opened your mouth to ask him what he was doing, he shook his head rapidly.

“Shh,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “You’ll scare it.”

“What?” you said. “Scare what?”

“Oh, no,” he said as his statement came true, the butterfly which had been resting on your nose taking wing at the sound of your voice. You gasped, for you had thought the brush of its legs to be nothing but flowers shaken loose from their branches, and your hand flew to your face, fingers grazing over where it had been sitting only moments previously.

The butterfly had wings the same blue-violet color as Tabito’s eyes, framed with black and interspersed with pale spots. It floated away lazily and easily, dipping back towards you once before disappearing into the sky for good, flying somewhere far out of your reach. You both watched it go in silence — for some reason, it didn’t feel right to speak in that moment, as if you would interrupt something very sacred and precious if you did.

“That was a great purple emperor,” he said after a while. “Sasakia Charonda. It’s the national butterfly of Japan.”

“I’ve never seen one before,” you said, your heart racing, though you had no clue why.

“They usually stay up high,” he said. “That’s what the book Yayoi gave me said. Apparently, they only come down if they’re looking for food.”

“What do they like to eat?” you said. Insects were his interest at the moment; he jumped from topic to topic, reading as much as he could about one subject and then moving on to another when he grew bored. Yayoi found it frustrating when he began to talk about whatever he was fixated on at the moment, but you liked to indulge him when you could. After all, you would give anything to have someone who would listen to you, but if you could not have that, then you would at least like to be that person for another. For him.

“Sap and nectar and fruit juice, I think,” he said. “They prefer sweet things.”

You smiled. “It must have found me sweet, then, for it to have stayed there for so long.”

You couldn’t understand why, but his cheeks turned pink like the flowers blooming overhead, and then he spun on his heel and stormed inside without further response, leaving you to look back up at the sky and wonder if you’d ever see that butterfly again.

At twelve years old, you and Yayoi graduated elementary school alongside the rest of your peers. It was the biggest moment of your lives up until that point, a cause of terror as much as celebration. Junior high would be an entirely different experience than the one you had grown accustomed to, and the only consolation was that you both were attending the same one, so you would have each other’s company through the transition and beyond.

The graduation ceremony was short, with the principal giving a speech and then leading the parents in a round of applause for your achievements. Your mother and father sat beside Yayoi’s; Tabito was there, too, in between his grandmother and a man who bore a resemblance to your classmate Aoyama.

Tabito was ten now, and he was entirely contrary, doing the exact opposite of whatever he was told. It was especially so when the one telling him to do something was a person he was related to — namely, Yayoi, who frequently gave up and begged you to boss him around for her instead. He was less reluctant to follow your commands, though this might’ve been because you phrased them more as requests than anything.

He had not mentioned it outright, but given his amenability as of late, you sensed that he’d miss you and Yayoi once you began to attend junior high. It’d mean he was left alone, after all, left alone where once he had had you two as his companions. He was old enough now that you did not worry as much — if anyone tried to bother him the way they had when he was younger, you were assured that he’d manage them without breaking a sweat, but still, just because he did not need you and did not acknowledge it did not mean that he did not want you there.

His bored expression vanished when he met your eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting as he raised his hand in a shy wave. You could not wave back, not when you were supposed to maintain your composure onstage, but you dipped your chin ever-so-slightly in acknowledgement, scrunching your nose at him when you were sure your teacher was not looking.

As soon as the ceremony was completed, you filed off of the stage to meet your families outside. The moment your principal dismissed you, you took off towards your parents, leaping into your mother’s arms with a squeal.

“You did it!” she said.

“Congratulations, Y/N,” your father said, the lines of his face deepening from the force of his grin. “We’re so proud of you.”

“I can’t believe it,” you said. “Yayoi and I are going to go to middle school next year.”

“Both of you are going to do amazing,” your mother said.

“That’s for certain,” your father agreed. “Did you want to go talk to the Karasus? I’m sure that boy of theirs wants to say hi.”

They exchanged one of those looks that you were frustratingly aware of but could never interpret, and then they ushered you towards where Yayoi was standing with her family.

“Y/N!” Mrs. Karasu said when she noticed you. “Wonderful job, honey. We’re all so happy that you and Yayoi are going to continue to go to school together!”

“It’s true, we were just talking about it,” Mr. Karasu said. “It’s a lucky thing.”

“Isn’t it? And lucky for us, too, I’d say,” your father said. Mr. Karasu chuckled, slapping your father on the back in agreement. Thanks to you and Yayoi, your parents had become close, and indeed your fathers often claimed that they were each other’s ‘only friends.’ They were as glad as you were that you would not be split apart. After all, you doubted they could handle meeting new people and befriending them after so long together.

Your parents began to reminisce over the days when you and Yayoi were younger, and when you looked for Yayoi, you saw that she was talking to her grandmother, who she had always been close with. This left you to glance around in search of someone else to speak with yourself, though unfortunately, you soon came to the realization that there were not so many options.

“Y/N.” It was Tabito standing in front of you, his hands clasped behind his back. He scuffed the toe of his shoe against the pavement periodically, far more interested in the plumes of dust it created than anything, his head inclined towards his feet instead of at you. “Good job.”

“Thanks!” you said, glad to have a conversation partner. “It’ll be you, soon. Just two years! Are you excited?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to go to the same junior high school as you, though.”

“That’s okay,” you said. “Even if you did, it would only be for one year, and then we’d be graduating again. You should make the choice based on what’s right for you, not where Yayoi and I are.”

“What happens if you and Yayoi don’t go to high school together?” he said.

“Why are you already thinking about us going to high school? That’s so far away,” you said.

“I just wanna know,” he said. “Will you stop being friends with her?”

“I don’t think so,” you said. “I’d have no reason to. Besides, if that happens, we’ll already have been friends for over nine years. It’s hard to abandon someone you’ve known for that long. Why do you ask? Are you worried that you’ll lose your friends when you graduate? You shouldn’t be.”

“I don’t want you to stop being friends with Yayoi,” he said. You raised your eyebrows at him.

“You try to act all cool, but you’re actually a really caring little brother, you know,” you said. “It’s sweet of you to worry about her, but it’ll take a lot more than attending different schools to break us apart, and even if something like that happens, she’ll easily make more friends, so it’s no cause to stress.”

“That’s not—”

“L/N, hey!”

Whatever Tabito was going to say was cut off by the arrival of your fellow art club member, Aoyama. He grabbed you in a hug before you could react, squeezing you in a vice grip that was impossible to escape from. You patted him on the back awkwardly until he let you go, though his fingers remained on your upper arms and he stayed leaning close to you.

“Hey, Aoyama,” you said. “Congrats on graduating.”

“You, too,” he said. “Oh, who’s this?”

“Yayoi’s little brother,” you said. Aoyama squinted at Tabito before nodding.

“I can see it — there’s definitely a resemblance. Hi, little Karasu! I’m Aoyama. I’ve been in the same class as your older sister and L/N here for the past few years,” he said. The way he introduced himself made it seem as if the three of you were particularly close, but indeed, other than your weekly art club meetings, neither you nor Yayoi had interacted much with the boy in the past couple of years.

“Hi,” Tabito said stiffly.

“He’s two years younger than us,” you added, in an attempt to smooth over Tabito’s surliness.

“That’s it?” Aoyama said. “He looks so small.”

“I’m not small!” Tabito said, but considering how much shorter he was than you and Aoyama, it wasn’t that convincing. He must’ve realized this, as his face grew red and his shoulders dropped, his lips drawing into a childish pout.

“Maybe it runs in the family,” Aoyama said. “Yayoi’s pretty tiny, too.”

“Well, it was good to see you, Aoyama,” you said, sensing that the conversation might take a turn for the worse very soon. “We should probably get back to our families, so…”

“No problem! See you next year?” he said.

You had forgotten that Aoyama, too, would be attending the same junior high as you and Yayoi, along with a handful of your other classmates. Nodding slightly and placing a hand on Tabito’s shoulder to steer him towards Yayoi, you waved at Aoyama.

“See you next year! Let’s go, Tabito,” you said.

There was a sullen quality to the stomp of his feet, but until Aoyama was out of earshot, he did not say anything to explain it. The moment the boy was gone, though, Tabito was whirling to face you, looking up at you plaintively.

“Do you think I’m small?” he demanded. It seemed his pride, which he guarded so fiercely, had been wounded by Aoyama’s comment. Even if you found it silly, it wasn’t unreasonable when you thought about it, so you did not make fun of him.

“Of course, right now you are,” you said. “It’s only natural. Eventually, you’ll grow, and then you won’t be.”

“I’ll be super tall when I’m an adult,” he said. “Taller than that guy.”

“Aoyama?” you said.

“Whatever his name is,” he said. “I’ll be taller than him, and — and — and better at soccer, too!”

“He doesn’t play soccer, so you’re already better than him at it,” you said. “Even if he did, though, I bet you wouldn’t have to try to beat him. You’re really good.”

He grunted. “Thanks.”

Though he tried to disguise it, it was obvious that he was pleased by the compliment. There was a spring to his step and a sparkle to his eyes as you rejoined your families, and you knew that you had once again succeeded in cheering him up, as you often took it upon yourself to do.

During your next summer term break, Yayoi insisted on going to the pool with you. She had heard that the next unit in your Physical Education class was going to be swimming, so even though you had not been assigned the practice as a requirement, she wanted to take advantage of your natural aptitude at the activity and get some time in so that she wasn’t behind.

“What’s your secret?” she nagged you as you, she, and Tabito walked towards your junior high school’s main building. Because of the swimming club, the pool was left open year-round, and even outside of practices, members of the student body were allowed to utilize the pool for their own reasons. Tabito wasn’t a student, but since he was with you and Yayoi, there was a high likelihood that nobody would even notice; besides, hardly anyone ever used the pool at this hour, so all in all there wouldn’t be any issues.

“Secret to what?” you said.

“Being so good at swimming! I can’t believe you didn’t join the club,” she said.

“It’s just something I like doing for fun. If I had to do it for the school club, I’d probably end up hating it,” you said. “Anyways, I don’t know. There’s no secret to it. I just get in the water and do what the teachers tell us to.”

Even in elementary school, you had been given rudimentary swim lessons as a part of your Physical Education class, but middle school would take those lessons to a far more brutal extent, at least according to Yayoi’s sources from the badminton club. You weren’t worried, but whatever information she had heard from her upperclassmen had terrified her enough that she was convinced you needed to spend every spare minute you had in the water.

“That’s what I do, but it looks so much easier when you do it,” she said, scanning her student card and motioning for you and Tabito to follow her through the open door.

“I don’t know. Things always look easier when you’re watching another person do them,” you said. “I’m sure it’s just as hard for me as it is for you.”

“Maybe,” she said.

“Do you like swimming, Tabito?” you said, taking off your shirt and pants, adjusting the straps of your bathing suit, which had twisted on the way to the pool. He had remained oddly quiet the entire time that you and Yayoi had been talking, which was out of character, considering he had been the one to insist on coming with you two.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I haven’t done it much before, so I don’t know.”

“Tabito’s afraid of the water,” Yayoi said. “He always cries when we go to the beach.”

“I don’t! Stop making things up, Yayoi,” he said. She snickered, already halfway down the stairs leading to the shallow end, the water licking around her thighs as she flopped backwards into the pool. As you had predicted, there was no one else there, so you had the entire area to yourselves, allowing you to be less focused in your efforts. Yayoi floated down the lane on her back, not even bothering to kick, her dark hair fanning out in a curtain around her waist, looking akin to a pair of unfurled wings fluttering in the wind.

“You so do,” she said. “I don’t know why you begged to come with us. I bet you won’t even go in the water, you chicken.”

“I am not a chicken!” he snapped, trailing after you like a shadow as you made your way over to the deep end.

“You definitely are,” Yayoi said. “Chicken, chicken!”

“Come on, Yayoi, that’s enough,” you said, stretching your arms and preparing to dive in. “It’s okay. He doesn’t have to swim if he doesn’t want to. There’s nothing wrong with being afraid of the water, especially not given that he’s still in primary school.”

Tabito puffed his cheeks out. “I’m not scared of the water. Only babies are, and I’m not a baby. I’m gonna swim just like you.”

“How about we do it together, then?” you bargained. Although Yayoi liked to tease Tabito, she would not lie or make things up solely to bully him, which meant that he really was frightened of the water. And if that was the case, then it’d be foolish of you to leave him alone, especially if he couldn’t even swim, the way she had been hinting he could not.

“That sounds good,” he said. You took his hand in between yours, interlocking your fingers with his tightly, so there was no chance that he’d accidentally let go, and then you leapt into the pool, pulling him after you. He let out a shriek at the suddenness, but then you hit the water and he was cut off by the cold temperature and the tangy, burning taste of chlorine.

A rush of bubbles surrounded you, the coruscating clear-blue obscuring your vision, but even before they could burst away into nothingness, you were pushing off the pool floor, dragging Tabito behind you until you reached the surface and he could gasp for breath.

His legs wrapped around your waist as your own churned the water, treading it to keep the both of you afloat, and his fingers clawed at your shoulders, digging them into your skin hard enough to bruise. When he tucked his cheek to your pulse, you noticed that his breaths were coming in harsh, short pants, his entire frame trembling against yours.

“Tabito,” you said gently. “You’ll have to let go so I can swim to the shallow end.”

“I can’t,” he said. “If I let go, I’ll drown.”

“If you don’t let go, we’ll both drown,” you said. “I’m not strong enough to keep treading water forever, and I don’t think Yayoi could save us both if it came to it.”

You weren’t worried yet, but it was true that at some point, you’d get tired, and then you’d be in trouble. Yet you also knew you had to be soft, for it seemed his fear was far more paralyzing than you had anticipated, and if he began to genuinely panic, then he might accidentally drown you both.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his face hidden in the hollow of your collarbone. “I am scared.”

“I know,” you said, using one hand to stroke along his bony spine, the other swishing back and forth to assist your efforts in staying above the surface. “But sometimes, you still have to do things, even when you’re afraid.”

“I can’t do it, though,” he sniffed. “I can’t at all.”

“Is everything okay?” Yayoi shouted from the shallow end.

“It’s fine!” you called back, knowing that Tabito might rather drown than let her know of this weakness. “Tabito, listen, I’m not going to let you go. Even if you let go of me, I won’t do the same. Do you trust me when I say that?”

“Yes,” he said immediately.

“Then prove it and leave me,” you said.

Slowly, almost painstakingly, he removed his arms from around you and drew his legs back. For the briefest moment, he was floating by himself, but before he could begin to flail around out of fear, you grabbed his arm, taking him along beside you as you swam to the shallow end where Yayoi was waiting.

As soon as he was able to stand, Tabito sprinted out of the pool, splashing up the stairs, shivering as he made a beeline for where his towel was waiting. You and Yayoi watched as he flopped into one of the chairs, curling up and draping the towel over his shoulders.

“Well, I guess he spent more time in the water than I expected,” Yayoi allowed. “That was a surprise.”

You exhaled, rolling your shoulders, which had tightened from the burden you had carried along the length of the pool. “He’s braver than you give him credit for.”

“Maybe around you,” Yayoi said. “I think he just wants to impress you, since you’re older and cooler.”

“It could be,” you said. “Though I doubt it. He’s known me for too long to think of me as worthy of impressing. It’s probably just because I’m nicer to him than you.”

“That’s just because you don’t see him every day. Trust me, if you did, you’d be even meaner than me. I’m told I’m quite patient,” she said. You flicked water at her.

“Our resident saint, Yayoi Karasu,” you said. She flicked water back at you with a mock-scowl.

“Oh, shut up,” she said, and then it was an all out war as the two of you endeavored to soak the other, forgetting about anything more important than the newfound game and the happiness it brought you.

When it finally came time for Tabito to graduate elementary school, there was a sort of melancholy in the air, though by all rights it should’ve been an exciting time. You had been asked to come to the ceremony by Yayoi, though she had confessed that it had been her brother who had actually wanted you there but was too shy to ask directly, and almost as soon as you sat down, you were aware of that feeling settled over all of the Karasus, even Tabito himself, though he was so far away on the stage.

Perhaps for their parents and grandmother, it was because their youngest was at this milestone. Never again would they have a child in elementary school; now, both of the siblings were older, nearer to adulthood than anything, but you doubted that that fact was congruent with the images they held of them as helpless infants. Even for you, it was peculiar to see Tabito standing on that stage when you still at times thought of him as that four year old boy who played with trains, so you assumed the effect was tenfold for his parents and grandmother, who had raised him since birth.

You weren’t so sure that it was the same for Yayoi, who had a different sort of glumness about her. She was sad for another reason, and as the principal droned on about the class’s achievements, you leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“What’s got you down?” you said.

“I’m not down,” she muttered. She would’ve fooled any other person, but you were not any other person, so you only elbowed her in the side.

“Yayoi,” you said under your breath in a sing-song voice. “Are you sad about Tabito graduating?”

“Why would I be sad about that?” she said.

“You tell me,” you said.

“It’s just hard to wrap my head around,” she said. “I always complain about him following me around and bothering me, but it’s just hitting me now that he probably won’t do that very much anymore. He’s going to go to a different middle school and make friends and want nothing to do with me.”

“I don’t think he’d do that,” you reassured her. “He’ll be less annoying about it, but he won’t just abandon you, at least not before you do the same to him. He’s bad at letting go of things unless you force him to.”

“I’d never abandon him,” she said.

“It’s not that you’d abandon him, but just think about it. In four years we’ll be headed to university, and he’ll still be in high school. Isn’t that kind of like you leaving him first?” you said.

“I don’t want to think about that,” she said after a minute.

“I get it,” you said. “It’s weird for me as well. Not him, but what if you and I don’t go to the same high school or university? What will I do without you?”

The changing of the seasons was what weighed on Yayoi, and consequently, on you. Tabito’s graduation was a reminder that the years did not stop for anyone, that you were all growing older with every passing day, and that one day things would not be so simple, the way they were right now. Of course, that day was far away, but then again, there had been a time when the day that Tabito left primary school, too, had been far away, and yet here you were, arriving upon it so soon.

The end of the ceremony was familiar to you, but this time you were on the opposite side, standing amongst the parents as they waited for their children to join them. You stood on your tiptoes, peering over Mr. Karasu’s shoulder in an attempt to spot Tabito when he came out. There wasn’t anyone else in his class who you knew; you had gone solely for him, and so it was only he who you searched for, counting the heads until he appeared.

He was one of the last ones to come out, talking to a few of his friends, though they all peeled off in different directions as they grew closer to you. Finally, by the time he reached the area where you, his parents, grandmother, and Yayoi were waiting, he was by himself, his hands shoved in his pockets as he braced himself for your reactions.

“Come here, Tabito,” his grandmother said, embracing him as tightly as she could given her frail body. “You’ve worked so hard, my grandson. You deserve everything good that’s bound to come your way.”

“Thank you, grandmother,” he said. There was this one thing about him — no matter how he acted around his peers, no one could ever say that he disrespected his elders, which was not always the case with those his age.

“How do you feel? You’re officially a middle schooler now!” Mr. Karasu said once his grandmother had let him go.

“Good,” he said. He was obviously squirmy and embarrassed at everyone’s attention being focused on him, so his mother only kissed him atop the head before releasing him to speak with you and Yayoi.

“Good going, Tabito,” Yayoi said, offering him her hand. He shook it firmly, much more at ease now that it was just the three of you. It was so typical as to be normal, despite the less-than-ordinary circumstances of the meeting, so it was impossible for any of you to be awkward.

“Thanks, Yayoi,” he said. She scoffed, making a big show of wiping her hand against her pants, which Tabito only rolled his eyes at.

“Whatever. Don’t forget that I’m going to a better junior high school than you, okay?” she said.

“It’s not my fault that your school’s soccer club sucks!” he said. “I’d have gone there if I could’ve.”

“More like you couldn’t get in,” she said. “Because you’re super stupid. I can’t believe you even managed to graduate in the first place. In fact, I only even congratulated you because I was so surprised by that fact.”

“Stupid? You’re the stupid one!” Tabito said.

“Nuh-uh, you didn’t even understand long division until Y/N explained it to you!” Yayoi said.

“That’s the only thing I was ever confused by, and I understood it as soon as she told me how to!” he said.

“Well, that just means Y/N’s a good teacher. It has nothing to do with how smart you are,” she said. You laughed.

“To be sure, I’m a good teacher, but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid. It’s his graduation, so we should be nice to him for today, don’t you think, Yayoi?” you said. She pouted.

“Just for today, I guess,” she said. “Fine. You’re not that stupid, Tabito.”

“You’re not that stupid, either,” he said. Coming from them, this was actually a stunning declaration of fraternal love, and you were taken aback that you had inspired it. However, upon further consideration, you supposed everyone was feeling sentimental by that point, so it wasn’t too hard to tease out.

“How far is your new school?” you asked him in an attempt to change the subject.

“Pretty far,” he said. “They have the best soccer club in the area, though, so it only makes sense for me to go there.”

“Are you going to have to try out?” you said.

“Of course. It’s not a guarantee I’ll get to play at all, especially in my first year, but just the fact that the chance is there is enough,” he said.

“That’s intense,” you said. You had stayed with the art club all throughout middle school, and though it was conducted with the same stringency as the sports clubs, there wasn’t as much of a competitive aspect to it. Anyone who wanted to join was allowed to, as long as they abided by the rules and regulations of the club, and such concepts as ‘trying-out’ were foreign to you outside of the stories Yayoi told you about her misadventures with badminton.

“It’s how it is in all sports clubs,” he said.

“True,” Yayoi said. “Remember my first year in the badminton club? It’ll be like that, only to a greater extent, since his school is known for soccer, so the club will be way more popular.”

“I don’t know how you guys do it. I could never; having to try out and possibly being denied the chance to do something I love would stress me out way too much,” you said. “But hey, Tabito, when you do get in — because I’m sure you will — invite us to your games so we can cheer you on, alright?”

“You’d really want to watch me?” he said.

“Why not?” you said. “I’m sure it’d be fun.”

“Eh,” Yayoi said. “Don’t be too sure. The games are kinda boring, to tell you the truth.”

“Nobody said you had to come!” Tabito said, crossing his arms and glaring at her.

“It’s not like I’d leave Y/N to suffer on her own just because she wants to be a supportive older-sister-figure. Obviously, I’d go,” she said.

“Aw, you’re the best, Yayoi,” you said.

“I try,” she said.

“Although, it’s kind of crazy that you’d go to support me but not him, when he’s the one actually related to you,” you pointed out.

“That’s because I like you more,” she said. “Not too crazy.”

“What happened to being nice to him on his graduation day?” you reminded her.

“Sorry,” she said automatically. “It had to be said, though.”

“Whatever,” Tabito said. “I don’t care if you’re there or not.”

“Wow, I see how it is,” she said.

“Just keep me posted,” you said. “As long as I’m not busy, I’ll go for sure.”

“I’ll tell you the moment I make the team. You’ll be the first person to know,” he said.

“Not even our parents?” Yayoi said.

“Obviously I wasn’t counting them!”

Either he was more talented than he let on, or more determined than the rest of his classmates, but regardless, mere months after the next school year began, you picked up a phone call that came from Yayoi’s phone but was made by another person entirely.

“Hello?” you said.

“Hello, Y/N? It’s Tabito. I’m using Yayoi’s phone to call you because I don’t have one of my own,” he said.

“Hi, Tabito. What’s up?” you said, holding the phone between your ear and shoulder as you filled out a worksheet for your science class.

“I made it onto the soccer team,” he said. The tone was casual, but there was energy brimming behind it, so you knew he was likely rocking back and forth on his heels in excitement.

“No way! As just a first year?” you said.

“Yeah, I’m the youngest member of the team. The others are all second and third years,” he said.

“That’s amazing! I knew you could do it,” you said.

“I was pretty nervous, but I just did the best I could at tryouts, and I guess they thought I fit in well with the team,” he said.

“Of course you do,” you said.

“So,” he said. “Our first game is in two weeks. On Saturday. Are you busy that day?”

“I don’t think so. I’m usually free on Saturdays, especially if I’m good about doing my homework on time,” you said.

“Will you come?” he said, spitting it out like it was something boiling and acidic on his tongue.

“To your game? Yeah, I already promised I would, didn’t I? Just send me the address and I’ll be there,” you said.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” you said. “See you later. And seriously, you should be proud of yourself. Getting into the club at your age is awesome.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll have Yayoi send you the address so you can meet her there. Um, but only if you want to.”

“I do want to,” you assured him. “Promise. Bye, Tabito.”

The day of the game was brisk and windy, almost like winter but not quite as punishing — the kind of weather where you could still just as easily grow too hot as too cold. All of the trees lining the street were bursting with colors other than the typical viridian, their leaves glimmering in the afternoon sunlight like ruby-studded crowns of gold which cascaded through the air with every passing breeze. There was a hint of loneliness in the piles of browning foliage littering the sidewalk, which meant that, in short, it was Tabito’s favorite kind of day. You hoped that it was a good omen for his first game.

Yayoi was waiting for you by the bottom of the bleachers, playing with the frayed ends of the pale blue scarf wrapped around her neck. She was wearing a cable-knit sweater, a pair of jeans that were loose around her ankles, and once-white shoes which had long ago been ruined by purple ink and too much free time.

“Sorry I’m late,” you said. She glanced up at you and then smiled slightly in greeting.

“No worries, you’re not late at all. I just came early because I walked with Tabito and he had to be here in time to warm up,” she said.

“If you get here so early every time, then I can see why you get bored of watching his games,” you said.

“I guess maybe that’s on me,” she allowed. “Where do you want to sit? If we’re closer to the field, we can see better, but there’s a greater chance we’ll get hit by a stray ball.”

“How about three rows back? That should be enough of a buffer that we don’t get hurt, but we’ll be able to see everything that happens,” you said.

“Sounds like a plan,” she said.

The metal benches were icy when you first sat on them, and you pulled your cardigan tighter around you to ward away the chill which seeped through your entire body from the point of contact. Yayoi, who was nearly as observant as her brother, offered you her scarf when she noticed, but you shook your head in a silent rejection.

The two of you talked about random, mindless things while you waited for the game to begin — how your classes were going, the latest gossip at your school, which high schools you were planning to apply for, and other such topics. They were the same subjects you went over every time you hung out, and for a moment you forgot that you had another purpose for meeting beyond just enjoying one another’s company.

Then the referee blew the whistle, effectively cutting off your conversation and bringing the impending game back to your collective attention. The gathered spectators, who were mostly parents and other students that attended Tabito’s junior high school, broke into applause as the teams took the field for the kickoff. You did the same, though both you and Yayoi made sure to applaud extra hard when Tabito jogged up with the others.

“Do you know what position he plays?” you said.

“Back in elementary school, he was the striker, but I doubt they’d give that role to a first year,” she said. “He’ll have to work up to it, I’m sure. He’s probably in the midfield for now.”

“I don’t really know what that means,” you admittedly sheepishly.

“I guess you could think of midfielders as the in-between men? Before, he was on pure offense, so his job was to stay up and score whenever possible, and then of course there’s players who prefer to be on defense, which means they aim to stop the opposite team from making goals. Midfielders have to be fluid, though, since they’re responsible for the middle portion of the field — ah, hence the name. Depending on who has the ball, they have to either go on offense or stay back on defense, which means they need to be equally as skilled at both,” she said.

“But then why would they put an inexperienced player in such a spot?” you said.

“It’s a pretty forgiving position, surprisingly. If you mess up as a midfielder, you have a buffer of offensive and defensive players on either side of you, so it’s likely that someone will be able to recover for the error, but if you’re up on top at offense or near the goal on defense, then there’s no one beyond you, so mistakes are more costly,” she explained.

“I get it now,” you said. “Sorry if that was a dumb thing to be asking so many questions about.”

“Not at all,” she said. “It can be confusing, especially when you don’t know much about the game. You should ask Tabito to explain everything to you if you plan on becoming a soccer fan; he can go on and on about it. My knowledge is pretty surface level and also entirely dependent on whatever he’s told me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said.

“Ooh, look, they’re starting!” Yayoi said, pointing at the field, where indeed the game had exploded into action, players darting back and forth, shoving one another aside as they reached for the ball. As she had predicted, Tabito stayed towards the middle of the field, surveying the players fighting over the ball, and though he wasn’t anywhere near the thick of things, you found yourself far more interested in him than the others.

What did he see when he was on the field? It was something you’d never really get to understand. What was it like in the heat of a match, where every single movement was the difference between win or lose — in essence, between life or death? You wondered what kind of person he became when he played soccer, if it was the sort of experience that changed one’s character or if you were just ascribing fantastical aspects to it because you couldn’t live through it yourself.

The game went on at a breakneck speed, and frequently, by the time you asked Yayoi what was happening, the play had ended and a new strategy had already been implemented. It was difficult to keep up with but no less exciting for your lack of comprehension, and at least it was easy to keep track of the score, for the goals needed no explanation.

By the time that the second half was all but over, the score was tied. You thought about asking Yayoi what’d happen if it ended like that, but based on the way she was leaning forward in her seat and biting her nails, you doubted it was anything good.

Entirely by chance or perhaps by choice, the ball rolled to a stop at Tabito’s feet. For the entire game, he had been flitting around the action, never cutting in despite how he must’ve ached to, and now he was being given a chance to prove himself, a chance to change the course of the match entirely. Your heart pounded, though nowhere near as fiercely as his own must’ve, and somehow your hand sought out Yayoi’s, the racing pulse in your wrist crushing against hers, which was equally as quick.

In the moment that the side of Tabito’s foot brushed against the ball, there was a rebirth which occurred. He came alive in an instant, like a hawk which had finally swooped upon its prey, talons digging into a tender neck and rending through the soft flesh, wings spreading in an ominous shadow over the unassuming creature that he was bound to devour.

The other team did not stand a chance. He cut through them in a way that almost felt mocking, slamming his hands against their chests to push them away, keeping them at an arm’s length as he flew past, his eyes constantly scanning the area around him, trusting his feet to take care of the ball, which stayed by him with the loyalty of a hound. It was a terrible and yet beautiful thing to take in, the cruelty of his play-style; you could not reconcile it with the sweet boy you knew, yet neither could you tear your eyes away from that sly, vicious force as it darkened the field.

His goal was punctuated with the whistle of the game’s end. For a moment, he stood there alone, staring at the ball rolling out of the net, sending up sprays of turf when it bounced against the ground, and then he was tackled by his teammates, all of whom were shouting praises as they piled atop him.

“I can’t believe he scored the winning goal!” Yayoi said, tugging you to your feet. “Come on, let’s go congratulate him!”

“Are we allowed to?” you said.

“Mm, not if this was an actual game, but considering it was just a practice match between two middle schools, no one will care,” she said, vaulting over the short fence separating the field from the seating area and helping you do the same.

“If you say so,” you said.

All of the players were congregated by their coach, who was delivering an inspirational speech about their teamwork and how wonderful they were, so you and Yayoi hung back until they were dismissed. After that, you snuck up on Tabito, who was taking off his cleats, and Yayoi thumped him on the back.

“Boo!” she said. He squealed, and it was a high-pitched, girlish sound which had Yayoi cackling with laughter as she squished his cheeks together in one hand.

“Yayoi!” he said, though his voice was muffled, his mouth resembling a fish’s. “Let go of me!”

“I can’t bear to! My baby brother, the hero of the match,” Yayoi said. “It’s unbelievable. As exciting as if I was the one to score the winning goal.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t,” he said, using his shoulder to get her off of him so he could tie the laces of his sneakers.

“Wow, way to take away from my fun,” she said. “And here I was, trying to be proud of you.”

“Whatever,” he said. “What did you think, Y/N?”

Before you could answer, two of Tabito’s older teammates, one of whom was wearing a captain’s armband, appeared behind him. They were probably your age, towering over little Tabito, with handsome faces and the beginnings of sleek muscles swelling in their arms and legs.

“Hi,” the captain said to you. “You’re super pretty.”

You had never been approached so boldly, and certainly not by anyone so good-looking. Your cheeks warmed, and you fought back a smile.

“Hi,” you said. “Thanks. You played really well.”

You couldn’t quite remember how he had played, actually, for you had spent most of the game looking at Tabito, but you assumed it wouldn’t hurt for you to compliment him back, and mentioning the game was a safe enough way to do so. He seemed to appreciate it, laughing loudly, though you hadn’t said anything particularly funny.

“I’m glad you thought so!” he said. “We tried out a new strategy, and we weren’t sure it’d work, but thanks to Tabito here, it ended up for the best.”

“That’s great,” you said, directing your words to both of them, though the other teammate, who seemed to be less outgoing than his captain, was too busy staring at Yayoi to notice.

“How d’you know this shrimp, anyways?” the captain said, throwing an arm around the disgruntled Tabito’s shoulders. Tabito’s expression, which had already soured with the captain’s arrival, only warped more at the friendly display, his lip curling like he had tasted spoiled milk.

“He’s my little brother, and she’s my best friend,” Yayoi offered, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“We came to support him at his first game!” you said. “He’s been super excited about getting the chance to play, so there was no way we couldn’t come.”

“As far as first years go, he’s definitely one of the best. I’m confident he’ll be taking my spot once he’s old enough for it,” the captain said. “I can’t name a single kid his age who’s as talented or hardworking.”

“He gets it from his older sister,” Yayoi joked. The captain grinned at her.

“I’m sure he does,” he said. “Look, I’m going to be plain with you: my friend and I were wondering if we could get your numbers and maybe—”

“We have to go now,” Tabito said, cutting off the captain, who gave him a surprised look. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he crossed his arms at you and Yayoi. “My mom will get mad at us if we’re late.”

“No, she won’t,” Yayoi said, furrowing her brow. “Since when has she cared about how late we are getting home?”

“Yes, she will!” he insisted. “She told me before we left that we have to be back before sunset or else we’ll be in big trouble.”

The captain raised his hands in the air. “No worries. Come to another game and we can catch up then, alright? There’s no point in risking getting in trouble.”

“Sure, that sounds cool,” you said.

“Nice meeting you,” he said.

“Yeah, nice meeting you,” the other teammate echoed, speaking for the first time, his face immediately turning bright red when Yayoi glanced at him.

“See you around,” she said. You thought that you heard the boy squeak, but you couldn’t quite tell. “Alright, Tabito, let’s go, then. Since apparently we’ll be in such big trouble if we’re not on time. Whatever that means.”

She didn’t roll her eyes, but it was implied in the rise and fall of her voice. Tabito ignored her, trotting off towards the exit, forcing you both to follow after him without further delay.

Once you were all on the road towards the Karasu household, Yayoi pulled out her phone, holding it out to her younger brother threateningly.

“I’m going to call mom, and if it turns out you were lying, I’m — I’m — I’m going to be really upset! You made us miss out on a chance to get dates, so if you were just making stuff up, then I’ll kill you for sure!” she said, speeding ahead of you so she could talk uninterrupted. Tabito shifted closer to you, a small frown on his face, not bothering to respond to Yayoi’s threat. You waited for him to say something; he confided in you often, expressing things to you which he dared not discuss with his sister, and you did not doubt that he would take advantage of the moment of solitude to speak his mind to you.

“You didn’t tell me,” he said after a moment of walking at your side.

“Tell you what?” you said.

“What you thought,” he said. “You told the captain he played well, but what about me?”

“I assumed it would be a given,” you said. “Of course, naturally I thought you were wonderful, Tabito. You were the best player out there.”

“Better than the captain?” he said. You beckoned him closer, cupping your hands around his ear.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you whispered. He nodded eagerly. “I don’t really know how the captain played. I just said that he was good to be nice to him, as he was nice to me, but the truth is that even when you didn’t have the ball, I couldn’t help but watch you the entire time.”

“Really?” he said.

“Really,” you said, nodding at him quite seriously. “I came to support you, didn’t I? Why would I bother with the other players?”

Any traces of his earlier vexation vanished in an instant. As you had suspected, he had been upset that you and Yayoi had ignored him in favor of the charming older players when he had been the one to invite you in the first place. Thankfully, he was easy to read and easier to placate, and anyways he never held grudges for very long, so he quickly cheered as if he had never been angry at all.

“Y/N, can I ask you one more thing before Yayoi comes back?” he said, looking over at his sister, who was speaking quite furiously to who you could only imagine was their mother.

“You can always ask me anything,” you said. “Go ahead.”

“Your phone number,” he said.

“What about it?” you said, puzzled. He avoided your eyes, kicking apart a pile of leaves and gazing at them as they plumed into the air.

“I want it,” he said. You gave him an amused look.

“You don’t even have a phone, Tabito. What would you do with my number?” you said.

“I’ll remember it,” he said, picking up a leaf and tearing it apart into many small pieces.

“Is that so?” you said. It was a ridiculous request, and you doubted he’d be able to follow through on that kind of promise, but you figured there was no harm in telling him. So you listed off the digits of your phone number, slowly and carefully, as he nodded along and told you he really would never forget them.

“Tabito!” Yayoi shrieked, sprinting towards you two at full pace. Tabito yelped and hid behind you as his sister, who was hardly ever so intimidating, came closer and closer, her countenance dark and a malevolent aura rolling off of her in waves. “Explain yourself, punk! Why’d mom tell me she said nothing like the crap you were spouting earlier? What’s the big idea, huh?”

“Oh, it’s alright, Yayoi,” you said. “I’m sure it was weird for him to watch his own teammates flirting with his older sister and her friend. That has to be some kind of murky territory or something. What if it didn’t work out and then they bullied him because of that? I don’t blame him for trying to get out of the situation.”

She huffed. “You’re lucky Y/N’s here. One day she won’t be there to defend you, and then you’ll really be sorry!”

Tabito stood on his tiptoes to peek over your shoulder and stuck his tongue out at her. Scowling, she returned the gesture in kind, blowing a raspberry at him before grabbing your hand and yanking you away with her.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s leave this loser to walk by himself.”

You chuckled and freed your hand from her grasp, which was a Herculean feat given that she had a grip made of iron, and then you looped your arm through her own.

“Alright, Yayoi,” you said. “Let’s do that.”

Later that night, as you wrapped up the last of your homework for the weekend, your cell phone lit up with an incoming call. Setting down your pencil, you picked up the phone and saw it was from the Karasus’ home phone — which was odd, because ever since Yayoi had gotten a cellphone of her own, she had called you from that, so it had been quite some time since you had seen that particular contact pop up.

“Hi, Yayoi,” you said. “Did your phone die or something?”

There was a pause. Then: “This isn’t Yayoi. It’s Tabito. I told you I’d remember your number.”

“Tabito?” you said. “Well, good job with that.”

“I wrote it down as soon as I got home,” he said. “Once I get my own phone, I’ll make you my first contact.”

“Me? Not your parents or Yayoi? Or one of your other friends from school?” you said, snickering. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I want it to be you.”

“I appreciate it,” you said. Maybe in some way, your friendship with Yayoi had transferred to him; after all, you had been the first number she inputted once she got a new phone, and you were also the first person she gave her personal number to, so maybe that kind of tradition had stayed with him and, in a typical sibling manner, became something he wanted to replicate. “You do that, then. And you can text me directly when you have games so I can come to them.”

“Actually, I also wanted to tell you that you don’t have to watch any more games where I’m not doing anything. When I’m in high school and I’m the captain of a really good team, then you can come,” he said.

“I don’t mind if you’re not doing much. The game today was fun. I got to hang out with Yayoi and meet your teammates,” you said.

“I don’t want you there anymore, so don’t come!” he said.

“Goodness. I won’t, then,” you said. “But that means you really have to work hard, because even if you invite me, I’ll only attend if you’re the captain of the team.”

“Good,” he said. “I’ll be a way better captain than the one I have right now.”

“Sure,” you said.

“Okay,” he said. “Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye,” you said, hanging up, finding a great humor in his competitive mindset, which even reared its head against his own captain, who he was meant to respect above all else.

Somehow, by chance or by fate, both you and Yayoi had the same top high school, and furthermore, you both received offers of admission despite how selective it was. The only other person from your middle school who was accepted was Aoyama, which you only knew because he told you one day during art club.

Both his artistic skills and his appearance had improved markedly since the two of you had first met; though he had never managed to master calligraphy or watercolor painting, he had discovered a talent for making scenes come alive with the use of a simple pencil. It was admirable, that with solely shades of gray he was able elicit images of color, and as he had grown older, he had also mellowed into someone you did not mind speaking to, so when you discovered that he was going to high school with you and Yayoi, you were surprised to find that you were actually a little happy about that fact.

Despite his obvious aptitude for sports — he was tall and sturdily built, with long limbs and a wide torso — he had denied every athletic club which attempted to recruit him, staying loyal to the art club despite how hard he had to work at keeping up with the rest of you. And because you and he had been in the same club for years upon years and the same school for longer, you supposed that it was inevitable for some kind of relationship to blossom between the two of you, which was why it was all but a foregone conclusion when he asked you out, the winter of your first year of high school.

It wasn’t the most romantic proposal. In fact, it was rushed and harried and fumbling, altogether messy and unplanned, but endearing in a way. You had been walking home from an art club meeting when you passed by the park where he had had a birthday party, so many years ago, and then he was pulling you over to the slides and sitting you down at the foot of one. You were motionless as he paced back and forth, trying to muster up the courage and the words to say to you, and then finally he just spat it out, all in a jumble. Will you go out with me?

You saw no reason to say no, so you said yes. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, and his lips were cold like the weather, but you did not complain, because he could not help it. And then he sprinted off and left you sitting there, at the edge of the red plastic slide in that desolate playground, the wind pushing the empty swings the way you had once pushed Tabito.

Aoyama was a fine boyfriend, or at least you thought he was; you had no experience with any others, so of course you could not say for certain, but in your opinion, he did as well of a job as he could be expected to. He held your hand when you walked together and took you on dates and kissed you in private — never in public, though, because you hated the idea, even if he would’ve liked to very much.

“I don’t get what your problem is,” you said, pressing a button on your controller to send a red shell flying. It connected with Yayoi’s character, and your own avatar, Princess Daisy, pumped her fist in celebration as you shot past the dismayed Rosalina.

“Don’t have one,” she said, shaking her remote in a futile effort to reawaken Rosalina. The character remained stunned for a second more before rejoining the race.

“Every time I bring up Aoyama, you stop talking and get all standoffish,” you said. “You obviously do have a problem. Is it because I keep talking about my boyfriend? I’m sorry if I’ve been doing that. I don’t want to be one of those people.”

“You don’t talk about him a ton,” she said, using a power up to speed through a shortcut, ramming your character out of the way to snag first place at the last minute.

“Okay, but something about him annoys you. What is it? I can’t fix a problem if I don’t even know it exists,” you said.

There was a set of thudding footsteps, and then Tabito, freshly showered from a game, peeked his head into the living room, batting his eyelashes at you in an attempt to seem sweet and innocent.

“Are you guys playing Mario Kart?” he said.

“What’s it to you?” Yayoi said.

“I want to, too,” he said. “Can I?”

“We were kind of talking about something,” you said. You weren’t sure if Yayoi would discuss the subject in front of her little brother, but it had been bothering you for long enough that you wanted to get things out in the open once and for all.

“It’s fine,” Yayoi said. “You can play with us. Just don’t be a pain.”

This was an absolute role reversal, and Tabito must’ve picked up on that, but he did not mention it, only plodding over to the TV and connecting his own set of controllers before settling on the floor in front of you, leaning back on your legs instead of attempting to squish between his sister and the armrest of the small couch.

“Are you seriously going to be Waluigi again?” you asked him with some disdain, wrinkling your nose as he selected his typical character.

“He’s my favorite,” he said.

“Gross,” you said. “But back to the original topic, Yayoi, don’t think you’re getting out of things just because Tabito’s here. You still have to explain what’s up.”

“Did something happen?” Tabito said as you selected a cup at random and the first race began.

“No,” Yayoi said.

“Yes,” you said, at exactly the same time.

“…Okay, then,” Tabito said.

“It’s about Aoyama,” Yayoi said. “Her boyfriend.”

“Oh,” he said.

“It feels like Yayoi has some issues with him, but she won’t tell me what those issues are, exactly,” you said.

“Is he a bad boyfriend?” Tabito said.

“I don’t think so,” you said. “No, he’s perfectly alright.”

“Look, I don’t have anything against Aoyama. I liked him, all of the way back in first grade, so obviously I don’t have a problem with him,” she said.

“Is that it?” you said. “I didn’t even realize you had a crush on him at all.”

“No, why would I care about a crush from when I was so young? To be honest, I just don’t think he deserves you,” she said.

“Why not?” you said.

“That’s my duty as your best friend,” she said. “To me, you’re the most amazing person ever, so how could someone like Aoyama ever be worthy of dating you? Besides, it doesn’t seem like you like him very much.”

“What are you talking about? Obviously, I like him, or I wouldn’t be going out with him,” you said.

“You should break up with him if you don’t like him,” Tabito suggested.

“I do like him, and I’m not breaking up with him,” you said. “Yayoi, why would you say something like that?”

“Dunno,” she said. “Forget about it. Maybe I was just seeing things. If you say that you like him, then you definitely do.”

“Right,” you said.

“What’s so great about him, anyways?” Tabito said, shifting so that he could be more comfortable. “For you to want to date him. Why do you like him? Does he even do anything of note?”

You snorted. “Not everyone’s a soccer ace like you, Tabito. Aoyama could’ve been an athlete, but he’s stayed in the art club with me since elementary school. That’s a long time; it would’ve been impossible for me not to grow fond of him over the years, and by the time he worked up the nerve to ask me out officially, I suppose I was fond enough to say yes.”

“That’s stupid,” Tabito said. For emphasis, he released a blue shell, which hit you right before you crossed the finish line. “Anyone could join the art club, and you’ve known other people longer than you’ve known him. That’s not enough of a reason to date somebody.”

“Rude,” you said, kneeing him in the head playfully, for you had come in fourth due to his intervention. “You know, you don’t really need a reason to date someone. You can date them just because. Maybe it’s true that hanging out with you two is more fun than being with Aoyama, but isn’t it normal to get along better with your friends? And especially when the relationship is so fresh. We’re still getting to know one another right now.”

“That’s fair,” Yayoi said. “Don’t expect me to be outright hospitable with him or anything, but for your sake, I’ll be polite. As long as he knows that I’ll make sure he regrets hurting you, if ever he does.”

“I’ll pass the message along,” you said.

“And you have to like me — us more,” Tabito added. “You’ve known us longer, so you have to like us better.”

“I’ll always like you better,” you said, reaching down to pinch his cheek. Already, his face was losing that round quality from his youth; you expected it’d be entirely gone soon, and you mourned the imminent loss of his doll-like appearance, vowing to adore it for as long as it remained.

Surprisingly, he did not slap your hand away. He only hummed in pleased agreement, and that was that. The conversation was finished, and it was the last any of you spoke about the matter for quite some time.

High school flew by faster than you had anticipated, certainly far faster than middle school had, though they were the exact same length. You divided your time between your club activities, studying for exams, hanging out with Yayoi as well as your other friends, and going on dates with Aoyama, so you hardly had a moment in which you could be bored. You almost missed the feeling of lethargy and inertia you had at least experienced once or twice in junior high, but yet you could not bear to give any of those aspects of your life up, so you managed the demanding schedule as best as you could and somehow made it work.

As he had attended a different middle school than you and Yayoi, so, too, did Tabito attend a separate high school. He chose it because their soccer club was well-known, but when he was in his first year, he was scouted to join the youth team of the prestigious J1 League football club Bambi Osaka, so it ended up mattering little. When he had reached such a point, why would he concern himself with school soccer clubs? There was no higher peak that he could reach with them than the one he already had achieved, especially not at his age.

It was rare for someone so young to consistently give such excellent performances. After all, he had been chosen as a starter for his junior high team as only a first year, albeit as a midfielder instead of his preferred position as a striker, and now, at the beginning of his high school career, he had already been selected to play for Bambi Osaka. Even Yayoi had to admit that her little brother had something to him — she claimed it to be an intrinsic talent, for that meant she had a chance at inheriting it as well, but Tabito was far more modest than she and always countered these declarations, arguing that it was nothing more than constant practice.

“Don’t tell anyone this, but I’m not that good,” he told you one day, when you were watching one of Yayoi’s badminton matches together. You were sitting on his black camping chair; he had offered to you and sat on the ground instead of making you do so, though you had never complained about it.

“There’s no way you’re not,” you said. “Ask anyone, and they’ll agree with me.”

“It’s true,” he said, shrugging like it was a fact he had accepted long ago and which consequently did not bother him anymore. “Some people are handed everything, but I’m not like that. I’m not a prodigy in any sense of the word. It’s easy to seem talented when you only pick on a person’s weak spots.”

You rested your hand on his shoulder. He was taller now, and growing more by the day, so you no longer had to lean down very far to do so, though he was on the ground and you were not. Exhaling through his nose, he bent his neck so his cheek could rest on your fingers, which were perpetually cold and must’ve felt nice in the summery heat of the midafternoon.

“If you seem like you’re talented, then you really must be,” you said. “I don’t think faking things like that is as simple as you believe it to be.”

“It’s simpler than you think,” he said. “Anyways, please don’t bring it up again. I just wanted one person to know the truth of who I am.”

“And it had to be me?” you said. You couldn’t see him smile, but you felt his cheeks grow fuller as his mouth curved into the wry smirk he donned more often than not nowadays.

“Of course, it had to be you,” he affirmed. “Who else would it be?”

Who, indeed? In some ways, you were as close with her little brother as you were with Yayoi herself, though it was a different kind of relationship there. As an only child, you supposed that all-consuming affection must’ve been what one felt for a younger sibling, so you put it down to that. After all, you had known Tabito for long enough that he could probably be considered your brother as well as Yayoi’s, so what else would it be? And the way he treated you was how he would’ve treated Yayoi if she were gentler with him, so although it was definitely preferential, you never saw anything wrong with it nor felt any need to correct his loving behavior.

The end of entrance exams, which was the culmination of the many months of hellish work that you had all put in, came with bittersweet news. For the first time, you, Yayoi, and Aoyama would split ways, each of you accepted to different universities. Those two, whose steady presences at your side you took all but for granted, had paths which diverged from yours, and you wondered if ever they would converge again.

Your path took you to Tokyo, to the exact university that your parents had met at. They wept when they found out, for though they loved where they were now, their hearts still beat for the bustling city where they had spent so much of their lives.

Your only consolation was that Yayoi, too, was going to the capital city. She would attend a different school, and thus would live in a different part of the megalopolis than you would, so the distance between you would not be small, exactly, but at least it was manageable. At least your paths would not be so separate. The same could not be said for Aoyama, who was going to Kyoto for university. You would be hours apart, and as the date of your graduation grew ever nearer, this took a toll on your relationship.

The ceremony itself was beautiful, exactly the kind of celebration that was shown in movies. The choir sang your school’s anthem and the president of the school board personally handed you each your diplomas; everyone was dressed in their best clothes, and the click-clack of heels against wood echoed around the hall as students and parents alike bustled about, congratulating one another and wiping away tears at another milestone crossed.

As always, as ever, your parents were sitting with the Karasus. You knew because you sought them out when it was your turn to receive your diploma. At first, they were impossible to find in the crowd, but then, like a miracle, you saw Tabito in the back, towards the left entrance, his pensive expression vanishing the moment he realized you were looking at him. Just as he had when you had graduated elementary school, he grinned at you, and then he waved, but unlike back then, he wasn’t at all shy about it. Also unlike then, you beamed at him with no care for propriety, cameras flashing in your eyes as you clutched your diploma in front of you with one hand and used the other to wave enthusiastically back.

“What a sweet photo,” your father said when all of you rendezvoused after the official ceremony, showing you his phone. The picture was of you on stage, your face radiant with delight, your arm raised mid-wave, the gold lettering on your diploma legible thanks to the power of the zoom on his camera. “You’re so beautiful, dear. I can’t believe you’re so grown up already.”

“She’ll always be our baby,” your mother said, not even attempting to disguise the tears wetting the shadows under her eyes.

“Can we get a picture with our two graduates?” Mrs. Karasu said.

“That’s a great idea,” your father said. “It’s so special that the two of you started school together, and now you’ve graduated side by side.”

“It only happens in the movies,” Mr. Karasu said, taking a pack of tissues out of his pocket and blowing his nose with a great honk. “And yet we have an example right here in front of us. Go on, girls, get together.”

You and Yayoi did not need to be told twice, pressing your shoulders together, so close that they rose and fell in tandem. You fancied that if one was to listen to your heartbeats at that moment, they would’ve been keeping the same rhythm, for you had lived more of your lives together than not, and so even your most basic systems were familiar with one another.

“How about one of Yayoi and Tabito?” Mr. Karasu said. “Let the L/Ns take a couple with Y/N, too.”

Your parents took turns posing with you and taking photos before your father flagged down a random classmate of yours, entreating the confused boy to take a picture of the three of you together. You could already envision exactly where they were going to hang that particular shot — in the living room, framed by something gaudy and likely near the vase of false, ever-blooming flowers your mother kept on one of the tables.

The Karasus were still taking family photos, for there were quite a few more of them than there were of you, so you decided to take the moment to look for Aoyama, who had been separated from you and Yayoi in the rush of people leaving the ceremony hall. It would be nice to take a picture or two with him, too, after all.

It was not hard to find him, not given how tall he was — in the crowd, there were few who were taller, and of those few, only the lanky Tabito was one you recognized. His mother greeted you exuberantly; she had always loved you, perhaps even more than her son did, and she immediately pushed the two of you together so that she could take a million photographs which she promised she would send to you at the earliest possible convenience.

“Do you ever think that this might be the last time we’re like this?” Aoyama said, his hand resting on your hip, a politician’s grin on his square face. You hummed in agreement.

“It is the last time we’ll be like this,” you said. “You’ll be off to Kyoto soon, and I’ll go to Tokyo sooner.”

“That’s true,” he said. “We should savor it, then. While we can.”

You knew what he was hinting at, but now was not the time to consider it. Now, you were meant to be happy, so you mirrored that smile of his and posed with him as if nothing was wrong, unsure of whether, in two weeks’ time, you’d be able to look at those particular photos at all.

At some point while you were you were with Aoyama, Tabito appeared, his arms crossed over his chest. He stood a respectful distance away from Aoyama’s mother, and it was only when you stepped away from your boyfriend and left him to his family that he hesitantly approached you.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi, yourself,” you said. “How’d you manage to find me? There’s so much going on.”

“You’re pretty hard to miss,” he said. You weren’t sure what he meant by that, but he didn’t bother with explaining himself. “You’re probably all photographed-out, but if you don’t mind…can we also take one? I don’t want you to forget that I came, too.”

“You only came for Yayoi,” you teased him. “It’ll hurt my feelings less if I don’t remember you were here at all.”

“I came for you, too!” he said earnestly, showing you both of his hands to prove he wasn’t crossing his fingers behind his back. “Really, I did.”

“So you would’ve come even if Yayoi wasn’t graduating, too?” you said.

“If you invited me, I would’ve,” he said. “I’d even skip soccer practice for it.”

“Wow, you hold me in higher regard than soccer practice? I feel like you’ve bestowed some great honor upon me,” you said. “That’s worthy of a picture, I’d say.”

You handed your phone to a nearby classmate of yours, a pretty girl who you had sat by in your Maths class. She understood quickly what you were asking of her, accepting the phone and waiting for you to get in position.

“Say, L/N, I thought you were dating Aoyama?” she said as Tabito wrapped an arm around your waist and you leaned against his side.

“I am?” you said, confused at why she had brought it up. She furrowed her brow, taking a couple of photos before giving you your phone back to ensure you approved of them.

“Who’s this, then?” she said, nodding towards Tabito. “He’s awfully cute.”

“Huh? Oh, he’s just Yayoi’s brother, it’s not like that!” you said. “But he is so cute, isn’t he? He reminds me of a baby version of Yayoi. It makes me nostalgic sometimes.”

“Yayoi…ah, Karasu! I had Modern Literature with her,” she said, snapping her fingers in recognition. “Wow. I didn’t realize she had a brother. Sorry for making a weird assumption about the two of you! I guess you’ve known one another for a while, so it makes sense that you’d be close.”

“Exactly,” you said, confused about how she had even arrived at such a conclusion in the first place when there was nothing between the two of you to hint at a relationship that was anything but platonic or familial. “Hey, thanks so much! These are awesome.”

“Anytime!” she said. “So, Karasu’s little brother. How old are you, exactly?”

“Um…” Tabito glanced over at you for help, creeping imperceptibly closer as if you were some last line of defense between him and the curious girl.

“He just finished his first year,” you said, taking pity on him and answering. The girl wrinkled her nose.

“So you’re barely a second year? Ah, that’s a bit young for me at the moment. Maybe in a little while, yeah? Call me once you’re in college and then we can talk,” she said, winking at him and fluttering her fingers in a wave before vanishing in the crowd.

You tried very hard not to laugh, but when you turned and saw Tabito’s bewildered expression, you could not help it. When he realized you were laughing at him, he turned a vermillion shade that only he was capable of becoming.

“I’m — I’m sorry she said that. I wouldn’t have agreed with her if I knew she was calling you cute in that way,” you gasped out. “Oh, my poor Tabito. I really didn’t expect that at all, or I would’ve asked Aoyama to stay and take our photos instead.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’d like it — um, I’d like it better if you thought of me as cute like that instead of like a baby.”

“But you are a baby,” you cooed.

“I am not!” he said. It was another rendition of the same argument you both had had in the past, and though calling this particular example an argument was certainly a stretch, you did not want to sully the night with even a joking disagreement. So instead of refuting his childish rebuttal, you embraced him tightly.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” you said. “You know I have no siblings of my own, but unlike most with that affliction, I am lucky enough to have met Yayoi, and through her gained a brother of my own.”

He shoved you off of him with a grumble. “I’m not your brother, either.”

“Alright,” you said, raising your hands in the air. “You’re not a baby, and you’re not my brother. Anything else?”

“No,” he said. “Let’s go back to our families. Your parents were looking for you. I think they all want to get dinner together.”

“Lead the way, then,” you said. “I call sitting next to you.”

He glanced at you shyly. “Okay. I don’t think you’ll have much competition there, though, so you don’t have to call it.”

“I just want to be certain. These are the final few weeks I’ll get to see you, aren’t they? I’ll miss you while I’m gone, so I have to stick to you like glue for as long as we have left,” you said, throwing a companionable arm around his shoulders for emphasis.

“Yes,” he said, bending his elbow so he could intertwine his fingers with yours, which dangled loosely by his collarbone. “Stick to me. Until the day you have to leave for good, stay by my side.”

The month in between graduation and the beginning of university was a whirlwind of receiving congratulations from random relatives, packing to move into your new apartment, and visiting your friends from high school, who you might not see for many months or perhaps ever again, now that you were all going in your separate directions.

More than anywhere else, you spent your hours at the Karasu residence. You never did anything particularly special, and neither did you bring up the ever-nearing date of yours and Yayoi’s departures; when the three of you were together — for Tabito insisted on accompanying you no matter how much Yayoi protested — you pretended like it was a normal break, like at the beginning of April you’d all once again return to your respective high schools and things would be exactly as they always had been.

You’d go to your favorite restaurants or run to ice cream shops late at night, laughing and teasing another as you licked at your cones and wandered around the streets. Sometimes you’d all go to the playground and pretend like you were children, sliding down slides that were only twice the length of your bodies and climbing across monkey bars with your feet brushing against the mulch. You’d sit on the swings and make Tabito push you as payback for the many times you had done so for him when he was younger, though he never viewed it as a punishment, and Yayoi would build castles in the sandpit, the grains digging into her skin and standing out in bright red patterns against her pale knees. Other days, if it was raining or any of you were particularly tired, you’d play video games, Tabito laying against your legs as he always did and Yayoi perched on the armrest like a gargoyle.

It was simple and wonderful and easy, but the same could not be said for your relationship with Aoyama. There was a tension between you both which had never been there before, and though he had claimed at graduation that he wanted to savor the last few weeks of your time together, you found yourself thinking more and more frequently that you wished you had ended things when you were still happy with one another.

You fought with him about random things, so irritable were you with one another. He accused you of spending all of your time with Yayoi, even though you’d be so close to her once the next year began, and ignoring him completely. You bit back with ten times the force, telling him plainly that you loved her first, and that even though you’d be nearer to her than him, the two of you would still be apart in a way you never had been, not since you both were six years old. And what of Tabito? What of the boy you had known since he was so young, that boy you had grown up alongside? You would leave him behind for good, and you could not bear the thought.

But in turn, this only angered him further. You like him, Aoyama accused you. You like him more than you like me. You weren’t sure how to respond to this. Of course you liked Tabito more than you liked Aoyama. You liked him more than you liked just about anybody, excepting his sister. Yet when Aoyama said it, it didn’t seem as innocuous as you knew it to be. It was the same thing that that girl from your math class had brought up, that there was something else between you and Tabito. You found it so distasteful that your words turned to poison.

You can’t say that, you’d snap, over and over, however fruitless it always was. He’s a kid. You can’t say that.

Aoyama would laugh bitterly, burying his face in his hands. Sometimes, he’d seem so tired and hollow and sick of it all that you’d regret it, regret whatever had happened between you two that had made you end up like this, but then he’d look up at you again and you’d know that this was the inevitable outcome.

It’s only two years. He’d remind you of that fact every time, and what could you say? It was the truth, and the same thing Tabito always insisted to your deaf ears. Two years or maybe less. 

It’s different, you’d huff when you could not think of anything else. Aoyama would sigh and then one of you would apologize: sometimes you, sometimes him. After that you’d kiss, and things would settle into a distorted version of your old comfort, but each time you ran through that fight or one that was similar, it became a little more difficult and your relationship fractured a little more.

There was no one great mistake. You couldn’t pick out a single moment when everything went wrong, when one of you committed a grave and unforgivable sin. It was just the accumulation of many small grievances, the stress of both of your impending moves as well as the knowledge that the end for you both was near, that blew up into an enormous fight, the kind of confrontation that was only frightening when it was finally over.

You both shouted about everything and yet nothing. The relationship, in its best days, had never had anything worth complaining about, and so it was difficult to find something to genuinely be upset over. He insisted you were cheating on him, or that, if you were not already, you soon would. You spat insults at him that you were not proud of, calling him controlling and cruel and stupid, even if he wasn’t really any of these things, and definitely not in the great quantity you insinuated he was.

I joined the art club for you. That was the last thing he said, when it was officially over and your fist was clenched around the doorknob. I could’ve been a national champion at any sport. Soccer or basketball or baseball or whatever. I could’ve been great, but I stayed in the goddamn art club because I wanted to be with you.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, stepping onto his doorstep, the rage leaving you in a minute, replaced by a deep sense of shame, but also, peculiarly, of freedom. Do you wish you had made a different choice now? Now that it’s come to this, I mean.

He laughed bitterly. Nah. Somehow, I can’t seem to regret it.

A lump formed in your throat, but bravely and surely, you swallowed it back. If you cried now, then you were afraid you’d never leave him. I see. Well, good luck in Kyoto.

Good luck with wherever your life takes you, he said. Tell Yayoi I said the same to her. 

I will, you promised.

Tell that brother of hers, too, he said. And tell him you love him while you’re at it.

There was no merit in responding to that final statement, which was as much an assertion of his perceived correctness as it was a heartfelt attempt at reconciliation. So you turned around, allowing your tears to fall when you heard the door shut behind you, the streetlights guiding your way home as you cried silently to yourself.

You never did see him again. It was probably for the best, anyways. A few days later, you were off to Tokyo, with an entire life ahead of you — a life that had no longer had a place for the dalliances of your past.

You and Yayoi, as well as your parents, took the train to Tokyo together. Tabito stayed at home with his grandmother, though he bemoaned the turn of events; he was about to start his second year of high school, though, so how could he justify tagging along? He did come to the station, however, pretending to be nonchalant and ever-so-cool, like he didn’t care one bit that you and Yayoi were leaving for good.

“I hope you’re not considering a career in the film industry, Tabito,” you said. The three of you were sitting on a bench together, yours and Yayoi’s suitcases at your feet, your parents waiting in line at the window to receive your tickets.

“Why not?” he said stiffly.

“You’re horrible at acting,” you said, your arms going around his firm bicep, your forehead pressing to the curve of his shoulder. “It’s okay for you to be sad.”

“I’m not sad,” he said, his voice a dull, trained monotone.

“I am,” you said. “We’re not going to be like this again for a while. Not ever, in one sense of the word. I think it’s natural to be sad about that.”

“Hmph,” Yayoi said, from Tabito’s other side. She was like her brother, but with marginally more of an aptitude at theatrics. Still, there was a curious sheen to her eyes, a dampness to the typically fiery irises. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” you said. “Things will be different no matter what. I don’t think it’s a bad development, but it’s a true one. We’ll — we’ll be apart, Yayoi, and we’ll have to take taxis to visit each other instead of being close enough to walk.”

“You’ll still be able to visit each other,” Tabito said, his face stoic but his voice trembling. “I won’t even get that. I’ll be hours away and all alone.”

“You have your friends and your soccer team,” you said.

“They’re not you,” he said. You weren’t sure if he meant it for the both of you or you alone. Selfishly, you wished for it to be the latter, though you could not say why and had no claim to him for it to be the case. “Nobody could ever be you.”

“If our mom got pregnant again, someone could be like us,” Yayoi offered with a wavering, half-hearted laugh. “You’ll have another sister then. Name her Ya-Y/N and it’ll be like we never left.”

“I’ll be older than her,” Tabito said. “She’ll be a crying, whiny baby.”

“Sounds like you’ll get along well, then,” Yayoi said. He scoffed and smacked her on the arm. She yelped in dismay and rubbed the sore spot, glaring at him all the while, which did inject some levity into the atmosphere.

Your spirits immediately plummeted once again when the train arrived with a rushing, roaring wind, coasting to a stop, the doors heaving open with a sigh. There was a looming emptiness in every car, mirroring the pit in your stomach and the jagged, frayed tears in your heart, which widened with every step you took towards the edge of the platform.

“See you around, bro,” Yayoi said, doing an elaborate handshake with Tabito. “Good luck with soccer. Call me if our parents are being annoying; I’ll talk to them. You can count on it.”

“Thanks, bro,” he said. “Stay safe in Tokyo. Maybe try to get a boyfriend or something, if you can manage it.”

“Shut up, you little twerp. I definitely can! I’m going to end up dating a model, just you wait and watch!” she said, punching him in the arm lightheartedly and then leaping onto the train without a backwards glance, leaving you and Tabito alone. Your parents were waiting inside with your luggage, and you knew Yayoi would probably be confused about why you hadn’t followed her, but for some reason, you found yourself hesitating.

“You’ll be able to get home from the station by yourself okay?” you fretted.

“Yes, of course,” he said, the corners of his mouth curving up in amusement. “Despite what you and Yayoi seem to believe, I’m not a baby, and besides, my house isn’t that far from here. It won’t be a long walk. I’ll be okay — I’ve had to do worse exercise in practice.”

“Okay, but just be careful,” you said, shifting from foot to foot uneasily, playing with your fingers. “You have people who can help you if something happens and we’re not there, right?”

“I do,” he said.

“And — and stay away from pools,” you instructed him firmly. “Because you suck at swimming and I won’t be there to look out for you anymore.”

“I would’ve done that even if you didn’t tell me to,” he said. “Quit nagging me, Y/N. It’s seriously annoying. Don’t you have to go? You’ll miss the train if you don’t hurry up.”

On cue, the train let out a warning whistle. You swallowed and then nodded, but you didn’t move. You didn’t want to leave him. That was what you realized in that very moment: it wasn’t your entire life that you cared about abandoning. There wasn’t anything much you’d miss about your hometown, and certainly nothing you’d miss more than him. Tabito, your Tabito — because he was yours in a way you were loath to share with even Yayoi, who was his actual sister, and you were suddenly so certain that it had always been so and you had just never discerned it.

“Go on,” he said after a second, nudging you towards the train. “Really, you’ll be in trouble soon.”

You thought that you should tell him, but there were not words enough to describe it, so you did not. You could not. You only forced a smile and then stepped onto the train, clutching the metal bar and facing the platform so that you could gaze at him one final time. The train whistled again, and then Tabito’s expression changed into something strict and determined as he raced forward, skidding to a stop on the painted yellow border right in front of you.

“Did something happen?” you said. He shook his head, motioning for you to come closer. Still holding onto the metal bar for balance, you brought your face to his, thinking he might want to whisper one final secret in your ear before he no longer could. Yet he did not; instead, he pressed his lips to your cheek, one of his hands holding the other carefully, so gentle despite the roughness of his calloused palms.

“Bye, Y/N,” he said. “Don’t forget me while you’re in Tokyo.”

The doors closed and the train shot off as you took a step back, too stunned to shout out a final farewell until it was too late and all you could do was watch as his waving form receded into the distance.

[querenciasturniolo]

your fic “obviously” is my literal favorite!!! could you do one that would be surrounding the idea of the triplets and y/n decide to do a corn maze and y/n partners up with nick but nick runs off and leaves y/n behind and when chris & matt get out they see nick and matt starts to worry about y/n so he goes back in to find her?? add your own little spin on it if you’d like but it would just be so cute to see how much he really cares for her through the worry he has🥹

maze ⮕ m.s.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: swearing, worry, anxiety

summary: you and nick decided to go through a corn maze, and when nick leaves you behind after a particularly heart-stopping jump scare, matt goes in to find you

a/n: i changed it just a little bit 🤏🏻 hope you enjoy 💓

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

Boston was perfect for the fall.

The brownish red leaves crunching under your feet, the brisk air pinkening your cheeks and the tip of your nose, and especially the fall festivities. You and Nick went absolutely ballistic for anything fall related, which is why the two of you got along so well. Matt and Chris loved fall as well, but not to the extent of you and Nick.

It was your idea to go to a scream park, the three boys hesitant but they agreed anyway. The four of you had been walking around the park, laughing and flinching at every one of the scare actors.

“You guys, we have to do the corn maze.” You said, Nick’s eyes widening as he shook his head. “Oh, come on! You won’t even do it once? Just for the experience?” You pressed, Nick sighing and running a hand through his hair.

“I guess, you two down?” He asked.

Chris scoffed and shook his head. “Yeah, right. Not a chance.” You looked over at Matt, who was already shaking his head.

“We’ll wait here for you two to get out, but that’s about as far into a maze I’m going.” Matt said, holding his hands up in defense.

You sighed and shrugged your shoulders, looping your arm in Nick’s and walking towards the maze. “I have a feeling it isn’t going to be that bad.” You said. Nick looked over at you with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, okay.” He grumbled, his grip on your arm tight.

The maze was decorated with crime scene tape, signs saying different things covered in fake blood, and scarecrows around every corner. Nick was convinced the scarecrows were going to jump out in front of the two of you, but it had yet to happen.

“Nick, you’re being dramatic, just chill. Besides, if you’re not scared, the scarers leave you alone.” You said, Nick scoffing. He opened his mouth to speak, but a scream ripped through his throat as someone jumped out of the corn and ran past the two of you.

Nick’s arm was ripped from yours and all you saw was him sprinting into the darkness ahead of you, completely leaving you behind in the middle of nowhere.

“Well, fuck.” You whispered, slowly walking through the maze by yourself, flinching at every swish of the corn and every flutter of nearby birds. It somehow seemed darker now that you were alone, your nerves heightened as you turned different corners.

Matt and Chris were sitting on a bench right outside of the maze, scrolling on their phones and occasionally showing each other what was on their screens. Nick burst through the exit of the maze moments later, his breathing heavy and his eyes wide.

“How was the maze?” Chris asked, locking his phone and sliding it into his pocket. Nick shook his head. He bent at the waist and rested his hands on his knees.

“It was fucking terrible, never let me do that shit again. That was a bad idea.” He said, his breathing finally level enough to stand up straight. Matt and Chris shook their heads and laughed, talking to Nick for just a few minutes before Matt stopped and looked behind Nick. A few couples had walked out of the maze exit, but you were nowhere in sight.

“Nick?” Matt said, Nick’s attention turned to him. “Where’s Y/n?”

Nick turned to face the exit, his entire body rigid as he looked back at Matt with wide eyes. “I lost her about halfway through, that’s when I ran.” He said.

Matt’s jaw dropped. “You left her in the maze? Nick, what the fuck?” He asked, Nick holding his hands up in defense.

“I didn’t think she’d get fucking lost!” Nick said. Matt scoffed and shook his head.

“I’ll go find her, Jesus.” Matt grumbled, walking into the exit of the maze. Matt was never a fan of mazes, especially when it was too dark. He turned his phone flashlight on, walking past the people walking in the opposite direction as he searched for you.

Once he got a good distance away from the exit, there were less and less people. He grumbled under his breath, just wanting to find you and get the fuck out of here. He tried calling you, but it went straight to voicemail. Jesus Christ, he hoped you didn’t try to cut through the corn or something, because then you could have been anywhere.

Okay, shit was starting to get scary.

You couldn’t see anything, and your phone died about ten minutes ago. You’d lost sight of anyone a few minutes before, and you were freaking out. You kept one hand out, brushing against the rough stalks of corn to make sure you were going the right direction. Your other hand was shaking in your hoodie pocket, gripping your phone like a vice to keep you grounded. If it wasn’t for you, you wouldn’t have been in this situation to begin with, and you’d probably be eating elephant ears by the fire pit and joking around with your friends. But no, you had to be an idiot and get lost in a corn maze.

You turned a corner, a light blinding you as your stomach dropped and you screamed, nearly flying into the corn next to you.

“It’s me, it’s me!” The voice said, your heart pounding as your eyes finally adjusted.

“Matt? Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me!” You said, your hand resting on your chest as you caught your breath.

“How the fuck did you get lost? There’s one path.” Matt said, turning around and heading the opposite direction.

You rolled your eyes and fell in line with him, flinching when the corn rustled next to you and bumping into him. “I slowed down when Nick left me for dead so I wouldn’t trip and faceplant.” You said, Matt scoffing as he held his phone out in front of the two of you.

Before he could say anything, another scare actor jumped out of the corn right in front of you, your arm looping with Matt’s as you hid your face in his shoulder. You wouldn’t have flinched so hard if your nerves weren’t already so high. Matt flinched of course, but he just kept the two of you walking, letting you hold onto his arm and press your face into his shoulder.

“We’re almost there, I promise.” He said, you nodding against his hoodie sleeve and mumbling a response. Matt chuckled and shook his head, leading you through the maze and finally out of the exit. “We’re out.” He said, your head lifting from his shoulder to see Chris and Nick, Nick’s face contorted in a sheepish smile.

“Sorry.” He said, you smiling and shaking your head.

“It’s fine, scaredy cat.” You looked over at Chris, his eyebrows raised. You stared back at him. “What?”

Chris shook his head, an amused smile on his face. “Oh nothing, but you do realize you can let go of Matt now, right?” He said. Before you could let go, Matt’s hand entwined with yours.

“She can hold on to me for as long as she likes, considering I’m the only one that went after her in the maze.” He said matter of factly. You ignored the way your face heated up, lightly squeezing his hand in thanks.

Chris scoffed, his jaw dropped. “Dude, you went before I could even process that Nick fucking left her in there!” He countered, a laugh leaving your lips as the four of you started walking to one of the food stands.

“Excuses, excuses.” Matt said, looking down at you and winking as the four of you stepped into the line, your hand still encased in Matt’s, warmth radiating through your entire body.

[goodlucktai]

the soft animal of your body (1/3)

rise of the tmnt daemon au word count: 4k title borrowed from 'wild geese' by mary oliver

this au is the brainchild of myself and my dearest meeks, @gibbouslunation on ao3, @mykimouser on tumblr. it's inspired by 'his dark materials' but we're playing fast and loose with canon so please dont take it too seriously <3

the daemons so far !

read on ao3

x

“Mikey,” a persistent voice says, “wake up!”

“Mmmmno,” he mumbles, rolling over. “Five more minutes.”

The mattress gives beneath him with a bounce and a furry body wriggles its way close, shoving a wet snout against Mikey’s cheek. He giggles despite himself and tries tugging the blanket over his head, but it’s caught carefully in a set of teeth, and a game of tug-o-war starts immediately. 

“I thought you wanted to make Raphie and Teddy’s favorites for breakfast this morning! If you sleep in there won’t be time!”

With a start, Mikey remembers the significance of the day and shoots upright. A second later, his arms are full of a very enthusiastic Border Collie. Helianthus is always excited to see him in the morning, like she didn’t just see him the night before. She’s always excited to see everyone, and Mikey both understands her and loves her with his whole entire soul. 

He gathers Sunflower’s head in both hands and kisses her firmly between the eyes. She holds as still as a statue until the deed is done and then explodes into action, licking his face like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do, entire body wagging from the force of her happy tail. 

Dodging her affections and untangling himself from the blanket, Mikey manages to climb out of bed. He’d wanted a hammock when he was little, but when Sunny settled, it didn’t make sense to have a bed that was so tricky for her to get into and out of. 

She was the first of all his siblings’ daemons to settle, even April’s. She knows exactly who she is, and always has. 

“Breakfast!” he reminds her.

“Oh, right!” she says, and shoots out of the room like an arrow. 

A startled squawk in the kitchen probably means Donnie and Terror are up already, which probably means they pulled an all-nighter. And if they’re awake, their twins definitely are.

Leo’s relationship with sleep is hot and cold on a good day, but there isn’t a force on earth that could persuade him to lay around in bed while his counterparts were getting into trouble somewhere without him. 

Sure enough, Mikey rounds the corner to find the four of them clustered around the kitchen table. Lucky perks up when she sees Mikey, and waves with one of her tiny paws, and he takes that as full permission to swoop in and steal her from Leo. 

Leo smiles into his coffee mug and lets his little daemon be the one who says, “Good morning, Angie!”

She rubs her face against Mikey’s cheek, as outwardly affectionate and sweet as Leo likes to pretend he isn’t. 

“Good morning, Lucky girl,” Mikey tells her, giving the ringtail an extra squeeze before letting her climb nimbly up his shoulder and perch on the lip of his carapace. 

With his daemon already smothered in love, Leo leans into Mikey’s hug immediately, none of that new reluctance they’re all trying to maneuver present in any inch of him. That’s how you game the system. 

(April was surprised by it when they first met. She was nine years old at the time, and absolutely fearless about following her new friends to their subterranean home. She greeted Splinter with the brisk, unbothered attitude of any native New Yorker and was an order of magnitude more impressed by Yumemi, who landed on August’s head in greeting as gently and prettily as a snowflake. 

Mikey had been pretty sure that nothing on earth had the power to surprise this girl. 

But less than an hour into her visit, Terror had gotten into trouble, as usual. She was scampering up the cabinets as a red-knee tarantula, because she’d made a bet with Lucky that she was just as fast climbing as she was flying. But when she was little, Terror tripped over her feet constantly no matter what form she was in, and eight legs was way more than she was used to keeping track of.

A panicked little squeak was their only warning when Terror slipped from the top of the cabinet, and maybe she would have thought to shift in time not to get hurt or maybe she would have kept scrambling to catch herself. It didn’t matter either way, because Raph reached out with both hands and caught her in the cup of them, safe and sound. 

April had sucked in a startled breath, but the twins and their daemons all chorused, “Thanks, Raphie!” as he stood on tiptoe to place Castor carefully back in the spot she’d slipped from. And the spider raced off again, lesson totally unlearned. 

“It’s okay, she won’t fall again,” Mikey had piped up, six years old and completely misunderstanding April’s reaction. “Terror is super clumsy but after their game she’ll probably turn back into something that flies!”

“It’s not that,” April said, looking between Raph and Mikey and Teddy and Sunflower like she had just discovered something besides their green skin and turtle shells that made them very strange to her. “Didn’t it—feel bad? To hold someone else’s daemon?”

She hugged Augustus to her stomach like the thought of anyone getting too close to him was enough to upset her. 

But Raph tilted his head in confusion and Teddy, a fluffy baby cow at the time, tilted hers with him. “It felt the same as holding mine,” he said. 

Any silly scampering part of Donnie was a part of Raph, too. Obviously. 

They hadn’t known it was anything strange growing up, as insular as their family was. Of course, they hadn’t known about their ninpo back then, either—that secret mystical connection they inherited the second Splinter became their father, that tied them all together, that made their souls neighbors to each other. 

And only a few years down the road, on a random summer afternoon in a busy comic book convention hall, when the big crowds were causing Teddy to shrink into a miserable little ball on Raph’s shoulder, April would say, “Come here, baby.” 

She wouldn’t overthink it or second-guess herself when Theodora crawled into her arms, even though a random kid in the crowd who clocked the exchange would do a comical double take. She would just scoop her little sister up and make her feel safe, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Because by then, April would be Hamato, too.)

While Leo’s occupied, Terror hops across the table and dips her beak into his cup. He clocks it and sighs deeply but doesn’t wave her away. 

Terror can get away with most things by virtue of being able to out-talk literally anyone, or by simply flying around like a maniac until her siblings get tired of trying to scold her and move onto damage control instead. 

“It’s not my fault your coffee tastes better,” she complains, feathers ruffled. “Donnie’s still trying to pretend like he likes to drink his black, and it’s gross!”

Sunflower laughs out loud, then tries to pretend like she didn’t. Donnie’s head snaps up from where he had it buried in his phone, an expression of theatrical betrayal painted across his face. 

“Castor!”

“Buy my silence! Use some syrup and creamer!” the hooded crow screeches back. 

Leo is giggling too, slumping down in his chair so he won’t be Donnie’s next target, and Pollux springs from Mikey’s shell on his way past the table to rejoin her person. She has her own little cup of coffee but she dips her weasel-like snout into Leo’s instead, because whatever Terror does, Lucky wants to do. 

“Good morning, Michelangelo,” a melodious voice greets him as he ties his apron on. 

Mikey beams at the little moth perched on the upright handle of a wooden spoon and says, “‘Morning, Emi. Did either of those bozos make you tea yet?”

The moth hums, an amused, affectionate sound. “Yes, my dear. They’ve been awake for an unfortunately long time already.”

“Ugh, that’s what I was afraid of,” Mikey grumbles, but his heart isn’t really in it. There’s no sunlight in the lair, but the company of his dad’s daemon is warm and bright all on its own. 

Yumemi is all the parts of Yoshi he doesn’t know how to express. Even back when his bad days could turn into bad weeks and he couldn’t muster the strength to get out of bed, his children never had the opportunity to question his love.

Not when Yumemi remembered all of their favorite things, and oversaw meals with watchful eyes to make sure everyone was eating their vegetables, and woke them from bad dreams with lullaby soft Japanese that needed no translation. 

Of course dad loved them. His soul was proof. She told them every day. 

Since he’d prepared the batter the night before, Mikey makes a decent headway on breakfast and has a tall stack of thin, flaky crêpes to show for it by the time Raph and Theodora wander in. 

They look surprised and then pleased to see everybody waiting for them, smiling at the lively chorus of “good morning”s and “happy birthday”s they’re accosted with right out of the gate. Terror is quick to flap around them at speed, talking a mile a minute, and it detracts from the weird bit of tension between Raph and Leo that still exists in the margins. 

Lucky quivers eagerly where she’s perched at the corner of the table, uncertain of her welcome and waiting on a cue. But the second Raph puts his hands out for her, she’s leaping into them. 

“Happy birthday Raphie, Teddy! We picked out the best best best presents for you!”

“We helped!” Terror interjects, incapable of being sidelined, or silent for longer than thirty seconds. “It was a team effort!”

“With all four of your heads together, I bet it’ll blow us away,” Raph says, gentle in that particular way he saves just for little siblings. 

To his credit, he doesn’t hesitate at all to pull Leo into a sidelong hug at the same time as he does Donnie in the opposite arm, and Leo sinks into it readily. Things have been a little weird and different, but not necessarily bad. 

When you can hold each other’s hearts in your hands on the regular, it’s hard to miss how loved you are. 

(About a week after Splinter’s abrupt announcement two years ago, shifting the leadership mantle from Raph, who had always held it, to Leo, who had never given indication he even wanted it, things were tense, to say the very least. 

Yumemi was downright chilly with her other half in a way Mikey hadn’t witnessed since the disastrous flu incident when they were kids, that time Donnie’s fever had to officially break 101° before Splinter could be convinced that Something Was Wrong.  

And unfortunately for dad, Leo had decided he was fully not on board with the decision, being his most contrary, uncooperative self at every turn. You have never seen malicious compliance until you’ve seen Leonardo with a point to prove. 

It all came to a head in a big blowout argument that really everyone should have seen coming. 

Looking back, Mikey doesn’t remember what started the fight, but it had been festering for days. Raphael was frustrated and his feelings were hurt. He’s been replaced out of nowhere, and his replacement didn’t seem to care about the job one way or another. 

And to make matters worse, Leo almost seemed to be baiting him. He had his arms folded and his hip propped in the doorway, a mean little smile on his face that Mikey almost didn’t recognize—he had never, ever seen Leo smile like that at Raph before. 

“Can’t you take something seriously for once in your life?” Raph said, fists clenched at his sides. “This is important and you’re acting like you don’t even care.”

“I think it’s safe to say you care enough for both of us,” Leo replied blithely, unmoved. 

Mikey felt a sharp spike of worry from Sunflower, who was reading all the high emotions in the room like a book. Teddy was still trying to mediate, but her soft voice got shouted over. 

“What if you goof off and one of your siblings gets hurt, huh?” Raph yelled, at his limit. “What if somebody gets killed cause you couldn’t bother to just grow up!”

Leo’s expression didn’t change at all, every inch the irreverent, unbothered teenager fully prepared to breeze past everything his big brother had to throw at him. 

But Lucky burst into tears. 

It drew everyone up short. The entire room just froze, like someone took an ill-timed screenshot. The only sound was Lucky crying, and then the scrabble of nails on concrete as Sunny raced across the room at top speed to comfort her, and Terror clicking her beat anxiously, all puffed up to twice her size. 

Raph looked like someone punched him in the stomach. Leo didn’t look at anyone at all. At least his mean little smile was gone. 

“Okay, boys and girls,” Yumemi said suddenly, startling them all out of the tense tableau. She was perched on the back of a kitchen chair, having observed the argument for who knew how long. Long enough, probably. “Family room, now.”

She was using the no-nonsense mom voice that got everyone moving. Seemingly between one blink and the next Mikey found himself on the sofa, Sunflower pressed into his side and panting anxiously. 

“I won’t pretend not to know what this is about,” the moth says. “Yoshi has certainly spent the last few days hoping it would resolve itself before intervention was necessary, but that clearly isn’t the case, and I’ve let this go on for too long.”

She wasn’t scolding them. She had a soft spot for her turtles and their daemons that was a mile wide on all sides. But she clearly expected to resolve this issue right then and there and wouldn’t tolerate the usual time-wasting tactics. 

Beating everyone to the punch, Terror bated her wings and blurted, “They don’t want to be the leaders, duh.”

After a beat of silence that felt extremely loud, Donnie added, “I would have thought that was obvious.”

Raph seemed shocked and Mikey felt that way too. Their whole lives together were a multi-part series of Leo stepping up and smoothing things over when they got out of hand, convincing his brothers to wait half a second instead of diving right in, scheming a way to get them out of trouble—or into trouble, as the situation called for it. He always seemed to live for it when a plan went off without a hitch. 

Mikey had never thought about it before, but now that it was laid out in front of him, it was weird. You’d think Leo would jump at the chance to lead. 

“It’s not really my bag,” Leo said instead. He had a hand on Pollux, almost hiding her completely. “All that extra work and responsibility, and not even a decent pay raise? No thanks. Besides, Raph does a great job. Why fix what isn’t broken?”

He refused to bend, sticking to his story. Knowing she was the weaker link, Lucky pressed her face into his plastron and wouldn’t answer any direct questions. Raphael looked like he was afraid to even breathe too loudly in their direction after making his littlest sister cry, and nodded rapidly when Yumemi asked if he was alright with things going back to the way they used to be. 

“Yeah. Of course. Whatever—whatever’s best.”

The moth sighed, but not at any of them. 

“Very well. I will speak with your father. He was wrong to handle this the way he did. Any future changes will be discussed beforehand, as a family. As for right now, Raphael is the eldest and he will continue to lead you.” 

Leo was out of his chair and out of the room so fast that Mikey wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t teleport. Donnie followed right behind him, their regular roles flipped. Raph didn’t move at all, hands squished between his own knees as if he didn’t trust them. 

Teddy was talking to him in her gentle voice. It was always so obvious to everyone who knew him why Raph’s soul took the shape it did, this soft thing that carried around a love so big it was better suited to someone ten times her size. 

Mikey couldn’t hear what Teddy was saying, but it wasn’t for him to hear in the first place. He couldn’t bear to leave his big brother like this, but he couldn’t bear to leave another brother hurting out of sight either.

Their bond pulsing both ways with white-hot worry and impatient, leaping love, Mikey could tell when Sunflower absolutely couldn’t wait another second. She hopped off the couch and circled around to where Raph was sitting and laid her head on his knee. 

It was delayed, but still a knee-jerk reaction for their biggest brother to give her the attention she was begging for. After a few minutes of petting her soft glossy fur, it was Raphie’s turn to cry. 

Lingering, still not entirely willing to leave them and feeling torn in two about it, Mikey looked at Yumemi. The moth waved her antennae at him gently, an unspoken assurance that she would stay and make things right. 

So Mikey left his heart behind to work her magic, and followed the twins from the room to work some magic of his own. If he could wheedle at least one smile out of each of them by dinner, he would call it a win. 

That evening, when everyone had been dragged to the table not quite kicking and screaming but close to it, Splinter stood up awkwardly and apologized to the far wall for how he had handled the situation. From his expression, Mikey wouldn’t have been that surprised to find someone holding a gun to his head. 

“The important thing is that you are a team,” Splinter went on, the formal stiffness fading from his tone and something more natural, more rueful and affectionate, replacing it. “You have always been a team, and a very good one at that.” 

Yumemi fluttered from the table to his hand, wings opening and closing slowly in approval. Splinter took strength from her, and added, “It does not matter who leads and who follows, as long as you remain on each other’s side.”

Leo darted a quick, sidelong look at Raph, who met his gaze hopefully. Some line of tension in Leo’s shoulders went slack and he said, “Where else would we be?” and smiled as easily as if the last handful of hours had happened to somebody else. 

Forever the more honest of the two, Lucky crept across the table inch by inch until Teddy could draw her into a tight hug that lasted well into dessert.)

Now Sunflower hops down from her padded bench and scrabbles like crazy around the counter for Raph’s attention. She’s such a good girl for waiting when all she ever wants to do all the time is run right to the people she loves as soon as she sees them. 

Raph scoops her up as easily as April can scoop up August, a full size Border Collie dwarfed in his big arms. She shrieks gleefully and bellows “Happy birthday!” loud enough for all of Manhattan to hear. Mikey smiles as if her joy is his own and carefully flips the next crêpe. 

“What do you want to do after the party tonight?” Donnie asks, setting his phone down. “The world is your oyster, Raphala.”

“But no patrol,” Terror pipes up. “It’s an important holiday.”

“It is an important holiday,” Sunflower agrees, tilting her head to the side so deeply that her floppy ear matches the upstanding one. “So are we going to the arcade? The movies? The park? New Jersey??”

“Hey, watch your language,” Leo says faux-sternly, causing her to yip with laughter. 

“I was thinking ninja tag,” Raph says. He crosses the room to Mikey as he speaks, and wraps both arms around him from behind to lift him off his feet in a big bear hug, spatula and skillet still in hand. Mikey giggles and holds breakfast as steady as he can. “We haven’t done that in ages,” Raphael adds. 

It’s an activity that rides the thin line between training and play, but if that’s what Raphie wants to do on his birthday, then that’s what they’re doing. Leo falls in line now as agreeably as he did two years ago—maybe even moreso. There’s some whining and complaining when the situation calls for it, but no more than any of the others are prone to; average annoying little sibling stuff because it’s good for Raph’s constitution. 

Mikey thinks the biggest difference is that Leo doesn’t really suggest his own ideas anymore. He doesn’t test Raphael’s authority the way he used to, even when sometimes they could really use his voice of reason or his lateral thinking. He so adamantly does not want to lead them, for whatever reason, that he won’t do anything that might give someone the right idea he’s leadership material. 

It’s something Mikey desperately wants to bring up, but every time he starts to, he can’t help but remember that uncomfortable family meeting and at that point his courage always deserts him. 

The last thing he wants is for Lucky, that easily hurt part of Leon’s heart that walks around unguarded outside his body, to feel small or sad because of something Mikey said. He doesn’t know if he’d ever recover from that. He doesn’t know how Raph did it. 

Two years ago, Leo would have thrown up his hands and said something like, “Ninja tag? For your eighteenth birthday? Come on Raph-a-doodle, think big! We’re hitting the Cheesecake Factory and then your favorite karaoke club. We can play ninja on the way home, how about that?”

Today, Leo stretches his arms above his head and then folds them, leaning back in his seat and telling Raph in his good-natured teasing kind of way, “Whatever you say, big guy. But don’t think I’m gonna let you win just ‘cause it’s your day.” 

It’s a change you have to squint to see. But Sunflower told Mikey in a whisper one night that she missed how playful Pollux used to be. She missed the little ringtail who used to want to be everyone’s friend and solve everyone’s problems, who used to run around in circles trying to be helpful and good, never worrying about making herself a nuisance because she knew better than to think her family would love her any less for it. 

“Maybe she’s just growing up,” Mikey had whispered back, stroking Sunny’s soft ears and ignoring the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach his own words put there. 

“Maybe,” Sunflower said, but she didn’t sound very sure either. 

[colderdrafts]

How about the reader teaching the Driders how to kiss?- on the mouth.

*Kiss on the cheek for you* You are an amazing writer and I look forward to more of your writing.

You get a lil cheek kiss back thank u <3

Ooooh that's a neat idea. This got a little away from me (as things tend to do..) Whoops. I wanted to explore how both the spoods would react to a sorta similar experience, and had a lot of fun with how they respond differently. Anyhoo, class in session? I guess? Enjoy!

Tw for suggestive content (as one can imagine)

It's rare for Dren to venture outside the cave for any reason other than to get supplies. But, ever observant, he's taken note of your stir crazy and subtly spending longer and longer outside whenever you go to catch some sunlight.

So he's strapped the basket sheltering his young to his abdomen and gone with you for a little outing, for no other reason than to look at the changing leaves in the forest, some fresh air, and enjoying spending time with you.

You ask him about the surroundings, and he eagerly puts his odd collection of knowledge to good use when indulging you. You can always name and recognize at least three new species of plants whenever he does this. It may not be useful knowledge to you, but it is endearing watching Dren excitedly talk about things, loosening up a little around you.

You enjoy his company underneath the extensive forest canopy, sunlight filtering through the leaves and a brisk, cold wind. You pull you cloak a little closer and step to Dren's side for warmth as you walk, idly chatting along the way.

The peace is broken when the sound of other people speaking reach your senses. Dren stops moving to look for the source, suddenly going quiet again. The path ahead splits, and further away you see another group of common-folk slowly coming toward the path you're currently on.

You glance up at your companion. He stares at the strangers approaching with eyes narrowed, like he's trying to figure out how to diffuse a ticking time bomb. You know he's sensing for a shift of vibrations in the air, considering if he should be on guard or not.

You sigh, knowing his anxiety is already running ragged. You don't want what was supposed to be a fun shared experience triggering his overprotective instincts, but the way his dark lower body changes its stance like prepping for an impact tells you it already has. His paranoia still gets the best of him at times.

"We're just gonna pass them by," you offer quietly, running a hand over the sensitive black hairs on his front leg. He seemingly snaps out of it, and focuses on you instead. "Just like at the marketplace. Easy as pie. Who'd stop us, right?"

Dren nods, calming himself at your words and starts walking again, following your lead. Though you notice he steps a little heavier than usually. Surprising, considering he can be completely soundless if he wants to remain undetected, but it may be for the benefit of the common-folk you're about to cross paths with.

Less incentive to act on surprise if they hear him coming.

And they do, the group practically stops dead in their tracks at your approach, conversations cut short, several eyes staring - a family of five, it seems, three adults and two adolescents. They're a group of some sort of humanoid canines.

You push forward, however. If you stop too, you're admitting it's a standoff. You've learned to play it off casually. Dren stays close enough so you can feel the weight of his presence right behind you.

"Good afternoon," you offer politely as you get closer, an unspoken ask for peace.

"G'afternoon," one of the adults reply, silently agreeing to it.

Most of the group turn to keep on their way, though one of them stops to look you over. Something about their stance makes you glance at them once more.

The spear they carry on their back tells you they're not just any common-folk. The way they carefully watch you puts you a little on edge. Dren notices too, and you can literally feel the dangerous shift in his energy as someone who's clearly a hunter shows just a little too much interest in you.

The family hurries past, waiting further down the road, as Dren calmly steps to your front, one leg blocking you from view. You glance under his abdomen, and the legs carrying his young clutch the side of the basket, as if subtly preparing to tear it from himself. He's readying in case he has to quickly hand them to you.

"Leave us be," Dren says, voice steady and sure, though you note his claws gripping at the ground. "There will be no conflict if you do not make it one."

"I intend not to," the hunter replies cautiously, arms out in a placating gesture. Unarmed. They return their attention to you. "Sentry. Are you alright?"

Dren can't hide a subtle hiss when the hunter addresses you, and you put a hand on his waist to calm him. You frown. Why would a hunter of all people show concern for you?

"I'm fine. Leave us alone," you reply shortly.

The hunter watches you for an uncomfortably long moment, though glances at Dren and wisely decides not to push it. They turn, and go to follow the rest of their group.

You turn as well, silently grabbing Dren's hand to pull him with you.

"Blue moons, they're nasty up close," one of them breathes when they think you're out of earshot.

"Poor thing," another whispers. "They're always completely brainwashed."

You quickly send a rough glare back in their direction, though it seems the group is focusing on moving on, and they don't catch it. You ignore them instead, and gently nudge Dren to keep moving, praying he didn't hear that.

His very stoic silence proves that, unfortunately, he did.

Once you've covered some ground, and sure you're alone again, you gently pull at Dren's arms to make him turn towards you and lean down. He's avoiding your eye and fidgeting.

"Hey, don't listen to them," you assert, gently moving a stray black hair from his face, hand resting on his furred shoulder. "You know they just don't get it, and they're not interested to learn. That's on them."

"But their words are always on us," he growls, uncomfortably stepping in place. He looks at you, sighs, and softly leans into your hands, resting his forehead against yours. "But not to worry, I'm not listening to them. I'm not sad. I'm angry."

"And you have every right to be," you agree, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "They're being extremely rude for no reason. I'm sorry to drag you out here and then this happens of all things. Let's just get back."

You go to pull away, but Dren puts a palm on your face to stop you, staring at you curiously. You peer back, a little confused. His anger has seemingly all but evaporated all of a sudden.

"What was that?" he inquires, chittering quietly.

"What was what?"

He tilts his head at you. "You put your mouth on my face."

Oh. You did, didn't you?

Wait, is this the first time you've kissed him? You didn't even think about it. It just came so naturally in the situation to reassure him, enjoying his proximity, indulging his warmth -

"Shit, dude, I'm so sorry," you realize in horror. If he doesn't even know what a kiss is- "I should have asked -"

"No, no, it's alright," Dren says quickly. He keeps his hand on your chin, not letting you look away. His gaze softens. "Actually - could you do it again?"

You feel a flutter in your stomach. "Again - give you a kiss?"

"If that's what it was, yes," he says, a small smile playing on his lips. "The gesture seems regular to you? If you want, I'd like to try it again."

His vicinity and complete earnestness is not doing wonders for you at the moment. Neither is the direct fixation in his eyes, like he's just daring you to look anywhere else. He's drawing you in again, as effortlessly as ever. You wonder if he even knows he does this.

You swallow a lump in your throat. Does he realize how awkward this is? Perhaps he just doesn't care. Ever patient, he just watches you think things through.

But you do perhaps want to kiss him again. Just to give it a try? It couldn't hurt to show him the ropes, could it?

"Okay - but I'm going to do it a little differently this time, if that's alright?" you ask. "If I do this, I want to do it right."

Dren nods, intrigued. "Go ahead."

Your heart start hammering as you reach the back of his head to slowly guide him to you, leaning in and gently brushing your lips across his. You can feel him tensing a little, fingers ghosting over your neck and chin, unsure where to put them. He's angling himself to better accommodate your movements. Even though you're taking the lead, he's trying his best to be careful.

Christ, has Dren always been this soft and warm? You know he can be, but this is like experiencing him again. You recognize the gentle energy within him calmly reaching for you, and you melt into him in a completely new way.

You can feel something sharp on your lip, his pointed teeth and mandibles brushing across your lips and face as he leans in further, looking for more - but the little stings don't matter. You know for sure that any danger he possesses would never be a danger to you. You carefully move your lips against his, and he copies you, eager to learn this new skill, his warmth completely engulfing you like a soft blanket of trust.

When you finally pull away again he's seemingly breathless, and so are you. You only notice now he's completely curled both his pedipalps and legs around yours, pressing close up against you like a lifeline. A deep, guttural purr escapes him as he stares, obsidian eyes sizing you up like a starved man going for seconds. The sound lights a fire in your stomach, your heart leaping out your throat as your face burns.

"Woah dude, not in front of the kids," you blurt, borderline hoarse.

Dren blinks, the spell officially broken, and bumps his face into your shoulder, howling with laughter.

"No, fuck - ugh," you groan at your own lack of filter for ruining the heated moment. "I'm so sorry," you laugh, holding onto him to hide your face.

Dren pulls you to him and lifts you off the ground effortlessly, losing himself in the moment to hold you close. You steady yourself with arms around his shoulders to keep balanced at the rapid movement.

Dren's laugh settles as he rests his face in the crook of your neck, breathing deeply.

"I've not laughed like this in my life before you came around," he says, softly nudging you. "Please never apologize for that."

"I'll apologize for not handling this well," you argue, running your fingers over the back of his head. "I really think you should be able to enjoy a kiss, especially if it's the first time you're doing it."

Dren pulls back to look at you fondly, supporting your weight with his front legs.

"I did enjoy it. Very much," he chuckles, pressing his face against your cheek. "Perhaps I just need to learn to contain myself, should you ever wish to do this again."

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

It's been a quiet day today, taking a break at an idyllic lakeside deep in the forest. Morgan has their mind set on a small town they've never seen and you're prepping to spend the night in this little safe spot underneath the stars before you reach it tomorrow.

You've finished starting a fire and settled back when Morgan suddenly sneaks up behind you, pressing their face against your cheek and chittering. You let out a not so dignified sound at the startle.

"What?" you grumble at them, waving their hair out of your face. "Don't you have a task to do?"

"You should pay more attention to your surroundings," Morgan purrs, eyeing you. "You must be tired. Good thing the pod is all finished and ready for sleeping. I just need you now."

"Don't hold your breath," you mutter, and look up to the canopy above.

Indeed it seems the webbing they've spun to accommodate you both for the night is finished, expertly secured and up high, spreading out over multiple trees. They did all of this this surprisingly quick. The strong, silky strings glint slightly in the dwindling sunlight, looking rather impressive, you reluctantly admit.

Morgan is nothing if not efficient. And so, so eerily quiet when they want to be. You hardly noticed as they worked right above you.

They watch you admire their construction, obviously pleased with themself. You avoid their eyes by looking into the flames in front of you.

"I'll take your deafening silence as approval," Morgan teases. They lie down next to you, flat on their torso, resting their head in their hands, abdomen stretching behind them.

"Also, I found something when moving about. I thought you might like it," they add, holding out a clenched hand to you, something hidden in their palm.

You eye them cautiously, assessing their nonchalant expression and easy smile as they eagerly watch you right back. Gingerly, you put you palm out to accept the offer.

They unfurl their clawed fingers, dropping a small soft object in your hand. It's some sort of flower head with blueish-white petals, stretching almost like small tendrils.

"These are good for insomnia," Morgan explains softly at your confused expression. "You've been having trouble sleeping lately, and they grow a lot around here. If you want, I'll show you how to make use of them."

That's - oddly considerate. Well, in many ways, they are. Your thriving and consequent survival means theirs as well, after all.

Though something in the back of your mind tells you not to let Morgan give you something that'll leave you even more defenseless in your sleep. There's, after all, a very good reason you've not been sleeping well lately. And it might have to do with sharing your sleeping space with an incredibly dangerous predator.

No matter how much their proximity calms you immensely.

As if sensing your train of thought, Morgan leans into your side, resting a head on your shoulder. You can practically feel the anxiety flee your body like it's scared of them.

"Just let me know," they hum at your silence. "I wish you'd just let me help you instead, though. I could lull you to sleep pretty easily."

You lean your head against theirs heavily. "So why haven't you?"

"Because I want you, to want me, to do it," they shrug, absentmindedly running a hand over your arm. "But I understand I can't right now. My sentry doesn't trust me at all. So, for now, let's keep this as a backup if your insomnia gets worse, hm?"

This is honestly surprising. For all their unpleasantness, Morgan at least seems somewhat genuine when it comes to taking care of your health. You can't trust them, but you can at least trust their consistency in being hellbent on keeping you alive. This little gesture is just further proof of that. You sure don't feel like you owe them anything, because you don't. But perhaps you can throw them a bone for this one. If you're stuck together anyway, might as well reward good behavior.

"Thank you," you sigh, absentmindedly pressing a small kiss to the top of their head still resting on your shoulder. They smell faintly of grass and sweat. "I'll keep it in mind."

Morgan slowly pulls away from said shoulder in favor of staring into you, an inch away from your face. You recoil at the startling change as their red eyes zero in on you.

"What was that, sentry?" they ask curiously, lowly, tilting their head. You can feel their breath, their energy fluttering against you.

And it only now occurs to you what you just did without thinking. What possible consequences could it have giving Morgan that type of affection? And after all this work, being so careful to not indulge them. Foolish.

"Nothing," you brush it off quickly, turning to grab a stick to stoke the fire unnecessarily.

Morgan keep hovering close, and you feel their hand curl softly around your shoulder. You don't need to look to know they've got that obnoxiously knowing expression on their face. They get it whenever you try to hide something, your fluster never failing to be extremely amusing to them.

"Nothing? Then why are you so embarrassed?" they tease, nudging your side.

"It was a little kiss," you snark, resisting the urge to glower at them. You don't want to look at that face again. "I think you know that very well."

"Kiss," they repeat, tasting the word and casually trailing their fingers over your neck. You shiver. "I don't think I do. Care to explain it to me? It's very soft. I like it."

Their hands settle over your chin, gently turning you to face their humored staring. You can't tell if they truly don't know, or if they're just enjoying watching you squirm with this. They seem relaxed, and you can feel its infectious energy traveling through you as well. An attempt at reassurance.

They do genuinely seem intrigued, however. And this wouldn't be the first time you've had to explain a certain social etiquette to them. They're well versed in most things from watching others, obviously a fast learner with a keen memory and ability to mimic - but sometimes, certain things like this has just somehow escaped them. A life of pure, cold solitude could do that, supposedly.

But do you really have to explain this to them? They look at you expectantly as if you do.

"Fine," you cave, mentally preparing for the havoc you're about to cause. "Kissing is a way to show affection. You've got a lot a sensitive nerves in the lips, and just pressing them against someone feels nice. I didn't really think about it right now, so you shouldn't either."

Morgan doesn't say anything for a bit, considering your words. Then they simply grasp your chin, briskly lean in, and press their lips against your forehead. They're being careful, analyzing the situation and the best approach like always. Regardless, your breath gets caught in your throat.

You can feel the fangs of their mandibles scraping across your skin, a faint but very stark reminder of the paralyzing venom that runs through them. It makes you freeze in place, gripping at their wrists on instinct, unsure if it's a search for safety or an act of silent plea.

Morgan hums lowly at your reaction, sensing unease and attempting to calm it by gently brushing their hands over your skin, like smoothing out tension. Oddly enough, it works. It always does. You relax a little bit, like any nervousness has just been deftly removed. Reassured, Morgan pulls away again.

"You're right. It does feel nice," they whisper, tilting your head up to meet their eye again, searching your face. "You did it first. So why are you suddenly so agitated?"

There's no point in lying to them point blank like this. The annoying arachnid can all but smell it. "Your fangs," you reply simply.

They blink. Then they chuckle fondly, cupping your chin and brushing a thumb over your cheek. "Sentry, even if I could pierce your skin on accident, nothing would happen without me wanting it to. If anyone gets to feel my venom it will always, always, be because it's on purpose."

You look them in the eye, trying to ignore the subtle way their voice curls around your senses. "And that's why you did it that one time?"

They give you a look like you're being silly and lean in again, forehead against yours, legs curling around your space. "Only on purpose, and when necessary. Unpleasant, but harmless. You know I'd never hurt you."

You hesitate. "Do I?"

"I have been trying to show you," Morgan offers with a sigh. They frown, thinking for a bit. "But if my kind of affection doesn't work, perhaps your kind will? Are there other ways you'd do this?"

You get a mental image of Morgan's lips on yours and your face flushes. You can tell if it's by disgust or need, and the contrast makes you squeamish. You know Morgan has honed in on an idea from the way their smile stretches. Crap.

"There is, isn't there?" they purr.

You just nod an affirmative. You can't even pull back. Do you even want to? There's just the red of their eyes in your mind, and their palms on your cheeks.

Morgan keeps the suffocating closeness, smiling as they lock your focus on them completely. "Show me."

Their face barely an inch from yours, they patiently wait for you to do the rest. They want you to come to them. And you do. You just can't help yourself.

You brush your lips against theirs, careful and soft, their low pleased chittering filling the space. Seems they like it. Encouraged, you lean further into them, drawn by their warmth and reassurance, reaching your hands up to rest against their chest. You can feel them smile through the kiss, and they angle themself to reach you a little better.

You pull back briefly for air, and Morgan follows you, pushing forward and seeking you out again like they're scared you'll vanish if they don't. Something curls around your hips and pulls you closer, you recognize the familiar strong grip of their pedipalps, and their arms slowly wrapping around your torso. Your feet leave the ground as they simply lift you up to meet them better without having to lean down. They lean into you with a contended sigh. Seems they really like this.

"Again," they whisper in your ear, almost sounding giddy. "Let me get it right."

Their lips are on yours again, soft but a little more insisting. As promised their fangs don't pierce your skin, but the prickling impression of danger mixed with the pure endorphin rush from this new sensation you can share with them sends a fire through your system. You can't help but fall back into them, their warmth encompassing both of you in an entirely new intoxicating way. They're a fast learner indeed.

You try to break off for air, and Morgan smiles at you, all fangs and intense staring, their chittering purr almost making your tremble.

"Don't run from me," they hum softly, their breath on your lips. "Trust me."

Their legs settle under you to help support your weight, and you completely relax into them. It's like you're floating. The only thing on your mind is Morgan. They're everywhere around you, against you, within you, pulling at the little connection lodged to your core.

Carefully you poke your tongue out, and perhaps that was a mistake, you're just giving them ideas, but it's just so nice to be in their arms, it always is. They hum, and gently grip the back of your head and push their tongue out against yours in turn. It's warm, so warm, and you just let it in your mouth to explore, messy and experimental. A low growl escapes them at the feeling, and they lean further in, seeking out the taste of you like a moth to a flame.

It seems Morgan doesn't even need the venom to paralyze you. They kiss you like they're prepared to swallow you whole.

[ghostchems]

baptized in blood - mary goore x f!reader

a/n: here is the surprised! based on a dream i had. culty end of the world vibes here. there is smut and violence and drama and mary bein a little bit bloody because that's who they are. dipping my toe into goore-land. about 3.6k words. ao3 link!

You will never forget the day Mary Goore rolled into town. It was two months to the day that the virus spread and the world went to shit. You were taking a walk down Main Street to get some fresh air after spending most of the morning collecting eggs from the hen house. Everyone in town did their part on the farm — it was how they had lasted this long with enough food to go around. The air was cool and brisk but the sun was shining, warming your skin as you walked leisurely. You weren’t thinking of anything in particular when your eyes settled on his figure in the distance.

The first thing you saw was the blood. His face was covered in it, starting from the top of his head and running down past his chin and neck. Messy black hair spilled into his forehead. Despite what initially appeared to be a wound, he was walking with such purpose and power. His outfit looked just as unkempt as his appearance: muddy black boots, ripped black skinny jeans and a stained T-shirt with the sleeves torn off. He looked like he was on a mission. They walked down the center of the street while you were off on the sidewalk, your eyes glued to him.

You were the only two on the street that day at that moment. Deep, green eyes flitted to bite into yours, almost as if he was looking inside you. His lips curled into a sinister smirk before his eyes wandered your figure. You stopped in your tracks, your breath catching in your throat as you watched him go on by. He was heading for Town Hall which was the largest building at the end of the street and also was where the mayor and his wife had taken up residence since the surge. 

News spread quickly over the next few days that Mary had taken control of the town. No other details were provided but rumors ran wild. One of them was that he was the mayor’s disgraced son who returned for his revenge. Another was that he was sent by the devil himself to spread uncertainty and chaos in these hellish times. Pretty typical of gossip and rumors spread in a small southern town. You didn’t believe either of the rumors to be true but you still managed to keep your distance from him and the more wild behavior he inspired.

That was your typical strategy when it came to survival. You were a transplant from the north, having moved here to become a representative for Farm Aid, so you already felt like an outsider to the small town. Then, everything went to shit but you did your best to contribute just the same as everyone else but you did keep your distance. You cleaned the coop, picked produce and helped milk the cows, literally anything that you could contribute to you did but you always went back to your studio apartment above the pharmacy. 

You drew the line at participating in the new activities that have become popular since Mary’s arrival, besides at least showing your face at them. The town now had ritualistic burnings for those that passed, piling their bodies up and burning them in a field far enough away from the crops. More and more townspeople began to don the skull paint as well but none dared to replicate Mary’s signature blood spilling from his head down his neck. Bones started to appear along Main Street, sometimes configured in curious arrangements. You were curious but you decided it would be in your best interest to ignore and continue on with your usual tasks. 

Mary started to watch you, though. He seemed to always be around when you were working and you could feel those dark green eyes on you at all times. He made you feel on edge and you refused to meet his eyes. You managed to avoid him for some time until there was a mandatory town “get together” to help smooth over the tensions that were rising due to the new leadership. You stayed as long as you possibly had to before slipping out the back of the cafeteria during a spirited discussion about planning for the upcoming dry season.

“Walk ya home?” His voice caught you by surprise. You thought you were home free but there he was, muddy boots and all. That night he had the signature blood from his forehead down to his neck but he also paired it with corpse paint. You blinked at him a few times, having never been this close to him before.

“Sure.” You couldn’t tell him no, being the man who decided who eats and who doesn’t and all but you were anxious. It was a short walk from the cafeteria to your studio, basically straight down the street until reaching the pharmacy. The two of you walked in silence with the street being illuminated by gas lights lined along it and the dim light of the moon. Your eyes darted around the street, realizing that once again, it was just the two of you like it had been the day he arrived. 

“You’re a hard worker, y’know?” His gravelly voice cut through your thoughts again. When you turn to look at him, his eyes look softer than you’ve ever seen them before. 

“I try.” You offered a sheepish smile. “Not much else to do these days, is there?” 

“Mmm, yeah, but you could’ve just given up. Loads of people have. Just decided to curl up and die.” Mary leaned his arm against yours, brushing against the sleeve of your sweater. You felt a warm blush spread across your cheeks. 

“I mean, I definitely stayed inside in bed for the first couple of weeks of this thing.” You shifted your gaze back to the street in front of you. “But then it didn’t go away.” 

Your words hung in the air for the rest of the walk. Mary was silent but stayed close to you, his side pressed against yours. Your feet came to a slow stop as you reached the door to the stairs that led up to your studio. 

“This is me.” You turn around to face them, your arms crossed over your chest. Mary’s eyes drifted over your figure and he took a step closer to you. You instinctively took a step away from him, your back hitting the door. 

“You’re like me, y’know.” Their voice dropped deeper as he closed in on you further. “You’re an outsider to these people, baby.  You’re not about their bullshit.” He leaned in so close to you, his hands resting on the door beside your body. You knew he was right. You knew the second he saw you on the street that day he knew. You swallowed thickly, your gaze falling to his plump lips that were curled into a grin. This is why you stayed away from him. You were afraid of being seen as what you are but he saw you. And now, you were trapped by him.

Mary leaned in, their lips coming incredibly close to yours before he tilted his head to just miss giving you a kiss. Instead, his mouth found your neck, nibbling and kissing it sloppily as his arms curled around you. You gave a surprised groan, your hands immediately snapping up to grasp at his shirt. His kisses trailed up from your neck to your jaw before he settled just by your lips. Again, you stared into those deep, green eyes and you knew that he saw you for what you really were. 

A growl ripped from his throat as your lips connected and his hand snaked up from your hip to tangle into your hair. The kiss was desperate and deep, all tongue and teeth. You could taste the saltiness of the blood on his lips as his tongue pushed into your mouth. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this fire inside you, the burning desire that only continued to spread between your legs. The kiss ended abruptly, the both of you panting and pressing against each other needily, until you came to your senses.

You spun around and pulled the door to the stairs open before booking it to your apartment. Mary was close behind you, his boney fingers hooked on to the back of your jeans. You fiddled with your keys as you reached the door to your apartment, your hands shaking from the excitement. They are right behind you, his chest pressing firmly into your back and his crotch rutting into your ass. You couldn’t help but whine, feeling how hard he already was through his jeans.

The door finally popped open and before you had time to react, he grabbed you by the waist and scooped you up only to toss you onto your bed. He had you pinned so quickly, his hips desperately grinding into you. 

“Fuck!” You cried out as their hands worked to tear your sweater off of you. Once it was off, his lips parted and he growled deeply, looking down at your exposed chest. His arms curled around your back and he lifted you up to him, his mouth connecting with your collarbone. He was like a wild animal, his teeth biting and sucking at your delicate skin. Heat spread beneath it and your head fell back on your shoulders as he dipped down lower to flick his tongue against your nipple.

They latched their mouth onto your breast, his tongue licking across the nipple as his other hand groped at the other. Your mouth hung open and a deep moan bubbled up from your chest, your fingers tangling in his hair and pushing him even further into your chest. He grunted against you, happily burying his face between your breasts upon your direction. 

“You are so fuckin’ beautiful, sugar.” Mary praised as he lifted his head from your chest, his eyelids heavy and the blood and paint on his face smudged. He looked completely wrecked and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. You tugged him further on top of you and grabbed at his studded belt. They took the hint and started to pull your pants and underwear down your legs. He whined at the sight of you and he swiped his finger along your drench cunt, then bringing it up to his lips to taste you. “Fuckin’ hell, you taste so good.” 

All you could offer was an exasperated whine, his belt proving to be a bit too complicated for how impatient you were. The way he smiled at you – you’ll never forget it, somehow being equal parts sweet and slimy. He somehow freed himself with ease, his pretty cock falling from his jeans, precum already collecting at the tip. Mary spat on the head of his cock then stroked himself to spread his spit. You wrapped your legs around him as you watched him touch himself, almost succumbing to reaching between the two of you and offering yourself some relief before he shoved you back onto the bed, his cock pressed against your entrance.

Your breath caught in your throat as he hovered above you, your cheeks flushed and your eyes wide. He pushed in carefully, stretching you wide and feeling how he deliciously filled you. They held themselves there for a moment before he fucked into you relentlessly, his thrusts deep and hungry. You pulled him down even further, forcing his forehead against yours so you could watch him. He bit down hard on his lip, hard enough to draw blood as his throat filled with husky growls. 

You were so far gone. He fucked you hard and fast, exactly how you liked it. You felt your muscles tense and the fire in your abdomen was getting so close to bursting. Mary’s own moans filled your ears along with the sound of smacking flesh. You needed this. You didn’t realize how badly you did. But he knew. The feeling overtook you, your walls fluttering around his cock as your gut tightened and your back arched. You screamed his name in a shattered breath.

You were almost embarrassed by how quickly you came if not for Mary being right behind you. Maybe it had been sometime for him as well. His nails dug into your hips as his thrusts became more stuttered and erratic, his wild eyes boring into yours. Groans caught in his throat and he quickly pulled out, his hand working to take him all the way. He emptied himself on your stomach with raspy gasps.

You looked at him with hazy eyes, your body limp on the bed as you watched him pull his pants back up. His expression was positively devious and the paint and blood on his face were smeared all across his lips. 

“See ya around, sweetheart.” He offered you a wink and then sauntered out of your studio apartment, leaving you there with his seed on your stomach. 

That was the start of it.

Now, the two of you cannot get enough of each other. He is always there, watching you clean the coops and work on the farm but now his very presence makes your cheeks burn and your thighs ache. You are sneaky about your rendezvous, not wanting to cause unnecessary gossip or issues arise among the townspeople. There is a storm shelter entrance to the basement of town hall, which is where Mary has set up shop as him and is also where you enter to see him, avoiding coming in the front and running the risk of being seen. And you can’t help but enjoy the secrecy – it makes it all the more exciting.

You are sure that he loves you. The way his face lights up when he sees you, the way he can’t keep his hands off of you… he has to keep you close whenever you are near. You originally weren’t sure a man like him was capable of love but it is clear to you now. 

You think you might love him too.

Today, you are in his lap and his cock is buried deep inside you, seed spilling out from you and onto his bed. He lazily strokes at your clit with his pointer finger, up and down as your head falls to his shoulder and you squeeze your eyes shut. 

“So good for me, huh, baby?” Mary purrs into your ear and nips at your earlobe playfully. “One of these days I’m going to put a baby in ya, I think.” He licks at the spot just below your ear and you give a shuddered whine. Doesn’t he have such a way with words? “One more time for daddy.” They hum and start to rub at your clit more roughly than before. 

Your back arches against his chest and your fingers dig into his hairy things while strangled moans spilled from your lips. He uses one of his hands to push your legs open even further and his other hand works diligently against your swollen clit, tracing harsh circles along it.

“Atta girl.” They coo in your ear. You can tell he is smiling from how his mouth feels on you, his own heavy breaths filling yours. “So perfect for daddy.” He presses down on your clit and you scream out his name, your vision blurring and your body convulsing. Mary murmurs more soft praises in your ear as your chest heaves and you collapse against him. They have you snuggled up in their arms, their face nuzzled in your neck. 

There is a loud noise from upstairs that knocks you both from your blissed out haze. You spin your head to catch a glimpse of Mary who is already slipping out from you and throwing his jeans on. You start to collect your clothes from the bed and the floor, your throat starting to become dry from the increasing noise coming from just above you. Mary is already angrily running up the stairs while you manage to get your clothes on.

There’s yelling and more clattering and then a scream. You can’t stop yourself from shooting to your feet and scurrying up the stairs. You stop short of the door, knowing that if you step through the jig could be up. Another scream rings out and you push the door open, stumbling out into the assembly room. 

Mary is standing over Bubba, the town drunk. How he has been able to find booze during these times, no one knows, but he manages to stay slippery all day every day. He is on the ground giggling like an idiot. Mary seems exasperated. Bubba slowly realizes that you are there and he explodes into more laughter.

“O’course you’d be all about them weird girls, wouldn’t ya, Mary?” He manages between laughter. “Gotta use ‘em for somethin, right?”

You feel rage you haven’t quite felt in a long time but it is quickly quelled once Mary lands a harsh kick to Bubba’s head. He looks to you, his eyebrows knit together but his teeth are barred and his lips are stretched into an angry scowl. You don’t want to be around for whatever is going to happen next so you turn on your heel and leave just as the sounds of beating pick up again. 

You wish that what Bubba had said didn’t affect you but it did. Did everyone think you are just a “weird girl”? You put as much effort into keeping things going and running smoothly as the next person, if not more. It cuts you deep, even if you don’t want to admit it. The walk back to your apartment takes no time at all and you figure that a nice, cold shower and a nap would help soothe your thoughts and feelings. You don’t even put clothes on once you are out of the shower, opting to rest for “just a moment” in your towel before zonking.

You end up napping for longer than you anticipated, only to be woken up by screams coming from outside of your window. Confusion sets in as you blink your eyes open and the smell of smoke fills your nostrils. You shoot up out of bed and gaze out the window, only to see fire. Lots of fire.

The crops. 

You quickly throw a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt on before taking off out of your apartment. The street is filled with people, more so than you’ve ever seen it. Some are wailing, some are silent. Most don’t even notice you as you run by them, heading straight for town hall. You’re sure Mary already knows but you couldn’t stop yourself from running to him. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach. Maybe something happened while you were asleep. An uprising? A fight? 

By the time you make it to town hall, you are out of breath. You push the doors open, probably the first time you’ve ever walked in through the main entrance on your own. You gasp sharply as your eyes focus on what is in front of you. A trail of blood covers the floor, leading your gaze to Bubba.

He is crucified on the wall, right on top of a map of the town. Knives are buried deep in his palms and ankles. His head is hung low, his throat slit and blood spilling down his chest. You don’t know how to react. You think you should at least scream but you’re frozen, unable to tear your eyes away from Bubba.

“There ya are, baby!” 

Your head wrenches to the sound of his voice. Mary is covered in blood, more so than usual. His face is completely covered and his hands and arms up to his elbows are stained red. He is twirling a knife in his hand as he walks over to you at a leisurely pace.

“The… the crops.” That's all you can manage to say. You point in the vague direction of them. He is smiling at you, his bright white teeth a deep contrast to the dark red of the blood covering his lips.

“They needed to be punished, darlin’.” He sets the knife down on one of the meeting tables before he reaches you. 

Punished.

“B-but the food supply--”

“You will be fed.” Mary’s voice drops to a dangerous level, his eyes shining with madness you’ve never seen before. “You’re my baby, baby. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. They need to be punished.” A blooded hand reaches out for you and rests on your cheek. “After what they said about you… they are going to learn a lil’ lesson. People will die, sure… but I got you, baby.” His other hand rests on your other cheek and he strokes them with his bloody fingers. 

Mary did this for you. You don’t know what to say; your mind is blank and words are catching in your throat. But you can’t help but… lean into his gentle touch. He is smearing blood all along your cheeks but you don’t mind. The look in his eyes tells you all you need to know.

Unwavering loyalty and love.

You kiss him. You kiss him and you melt into him, throwing your arms around his shoulders. He is your and you are his.

And they will be punished.

[spacequokka]

Page 80

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader Genre: Smut/PWP sorry Rating: M Summary: Here, right now. Word Count: 0.7k Warnings: public sex, fingering, oral (f. receiving), vaginal sex, breath play

When Hyunjin originally suggested ditching the party to go back to his place, he’d put too much faith in his ability to keep his hands off you. There was something particularly enticing about the way you gripped his hand while holding down your skirt with the other, nibbling on your bottom lip as you focused on keeping up with his brisk pace.

Fuck.

In seconds, his resolved crumbled. He couldn’t wait another second to get inside you.

He pulled you into an alley between the suburban houses and brought your lips to his. “Just a quickie,” he breathed into your mouth, “Just enough to feel you wrapped around me.” He kissed you harder when you nodded then let go, turning you around to face the tall wooden fence behind you. The night and subsequent darkness granted him the cover needed to drop to his knees and reach under your short skirt for your panties. As he kissed his way up the back of your thigh from the back of your knee, he tugged your lace panties down.

Your whimper made him shudder in delight as his lips brushed against your folds. Dripping wet, just like he imagined you’d be back at the party, grinding your pretty ass all over his dick. He couldn’t wait to give it to you. Even so, he tasted you first. His tongue explored you thoroughly, circling your clit a few times before pressing into your heat. He moaned and grabbed your legs, holding you still as he shoved his face against you, wanting to coat his tongue with your essence.

“Please, Jin. I can’t—”

Your whiny voice. The way his name sounded so sinful coming off your lips. More. He needed more. With one last suck on your clit, he got to his feet and unzipped his pants, frantically shoving them and his boxers down. His dick was already at full attention. Getting the condom on was a blur because soon enough he was pressed against your back, one hand around you caressing your clit as the other guided his dick to your entrance.

“Ready?” He breathed into your ear, rewarding you with a nip on your earlobe when you nodded immediately. Your cunt was a dream come true. Hot. Wet. Tighter than anyone he’d ever been with. He may have been pussy drunk already because he swore it was sucking his dick in deep with a vice grip and all he could do was let it. You were a mess, speared on his cock and moaning like a bitch in heat as your walls spasmed wildly. He covered your mouth with his hand and pulled your head back onto his shoulder, bending your body into a deep arch. “Shush. You’re gonna get us caught. And I’m not pulling out yet.”

After securing his footing by kicking your legs further apart, he went to work, starting off with long, slow pulls out and quick snaps of his hips back in. When his dick was drenched and began to glide in and out without resistance, he switched to a steady thrust. Your hands covered his, pressing his fingers harder onto your clit and squeezing his hand on your lips.

He laughed. “You little freak. You like it like this?” He punctuated the question with a harsh thrust up into you. “You like being fucked this good? Fuck, I wanna keep you now.” He kissed your cheek. “Work you up all day until you’re soaking through your panties, then spend the whole night inside you. Can’t wait to fall asleep in it, dick soaked in your cum.”

You tightened at that, and he groaned, muffling himself with your neck.

“Shit,” he moved his hand to your throat, “be my good baby and cum. Give me a taste of what you can do.” Your fingers trembled and messed up the pattern he was drawing over your clit when he carefully squeezed your neck. Though the condom hindered the true feel of your wetness, your cunt’s grip was more than enough to sate his desire. His eyes shut and he held you still as he came, hips following the waves of his release as he imagined he was filling you up, dumping everything he had inside of you.

He couldn’t do it tonight, but he promised he would one day.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: Muriel's birthday

~ here's the other birthday I missed (September 10th) while I was on hiatus. enjoy! ^.^ ~

You know he doesn't like surprises. He doesn't like surprises at all

You also know that if he knew that you were planning something for his birthday, he'd draw the line at anything more involved than a cupcake, and even that would be stretching it

The solution is to make the kinds of plans he'll be okay with, and keeping the happy extra details to yourself

A picnic. Surely he'll be okay with a picnic on his special day, at least so that the friends who care about him can come by and wish him without the stress of having them in the hut?

He pouts, but he agrees, assuming that if he lets you have this then you won't trying doing anything else

He assumes wrong, in the most delightful way

You meet with all those invited one at a time, informing them of the picnic, making a suggestion or two for something fun to bring, and asking that (if they were planning on getting him anything) they send their gifts for him to you ahead of time

Because as much as Muriel is learning to accept nice things for himself, you know it's easier for him to do when he's not facing the pressure of multiple pairs of eyes

The morning of his birthday, you wake up while it's still dark

Inanna's snout is in your face, her wet nose snuffling in your ear as she cautiously straddles your sleeping figure and tries to wake you up without disturbing Muriel

This is something you have asked her to do - you don't know how else you'd be able to wake up and feed the chickens before he does

Getting out of bed without waking him is another matter. He's a heavy sleeper, sure, but he's also got heavy arms. Being pinned under them is a wonderful feeling until you're trying to sit up

Inanna guards you carefully as you walk outside to feed the chickens, collecting fresh eggs for breakfast before tiptoeing back inside the hut

It's a chilly autumn morning. The cold is already seeping into your bones after leaving the warmth of the furs and Muriel's steady supply of body heat, so you rush to build up the fire

The sounds of you starting breakfast don't wake him up. Neither does the slow brightening of the dawn through the window, or the growing fire in the hearth

No, it's the smell of mushrooms frying in the skillet

You try to convince him to sleep in a little longer, but he's already slept longer than usual without the hungry chickens scratching outside and Inanna pawing at his face

(the poor wolf does, in fact, get a fondly annoyed look for her betrayal, waking you up instead of him)

He's sleepy and relaxed and happy, bedhead falling over his stubble, morning voice even deeper than it already is

Eating breakfast together is a precious moment. He doesn't realize you're doing this for his birthday until you wish him, and his smile is slow and bittersweet. He never thought he'd have a birthday like this, but he's glad he does

You pull out his gifts afterwards. Warm clothes from Nadia, a fresh pouch of myrrh from Asra in a seventeen, now eighteen year long tradition, a salve for chapped hands from Julian ...

He grumbles over each one as though his fond smile isn't visible, taking his time to admire them before pressing a shy kiss to your temple in thanks

It gives him just enough time to plan his thank yous before you need to pack your picnic lunch and meet them out in the fields

Much to his surprise, it's easier than expected. There's no overwhelming crowds besides the curious ants that stop by

Between Nadia's social graces, Asra's old familiarity, and Julian's capacity to hog all the awkwardness, conversation flows seamlessly and Muriel finds himself quickly caught up in it

After you've eaten comes the one proper surprise you've prepared - flying kites

The autumn winds are brisk and cool, perfect for carrying the whimsical paper creations into the clouds

Watching the Countess of Vesuvia go sprinting down a hill with an excited shout trying to get her kite into the air is also quite the refreshing scene

The afternoon passes by faster than Muriel is used to. Soon enough, both the sky and fields are turning a fiery golden from the sunset, and it's time to head home

You give him some time to himself before dinner - it's been an unusually social day, after all - but he's more than happy to sit close to you as you roast vegetables over a campfire outside the hut

Sitting back against a fallen log side-by-side, feeling the cold nip at your noses while you snuggle together for warmth, smelling the smoke from the campfire as you watch it float towards the stars

The kisses you share there are sweet, happy, full of promises for a good year to come, and eventually, very sleepy

He might be used to feeding the chickens at dawn, but you're not. He's carrying you to bed