#but before they found oil unfortunately

[peace-andharmony]

Yeah it might be nice to be rich but then I wouldn't have the pleasure of seeing my husband pack our family car up like the Goofy Movie every time we go tent camping

[marvelsmylife]

Hidden Family

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Request: 𝐻𝑒𝑦, 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑎 𝑓𝑖𝑐 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝐴𝑧𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑟 𝑐𝑖𝑟𝑐𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐴𝑧𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑙 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑? (𝐿𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝐴𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝐴𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑈𝑙𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝐶𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑡 𝐵𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝐹𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦) 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢🥰

A/n I changed a few things around (timeline wise) where Feyre had Nyx before the war in Hybern. I hope you guys won’t mind.

It was a total shit show. They were meant to go on a mission to forge more allies for the inevitable war against Hybern. They decided to bring Nyx with them because they thought it would be a simple mission. Unfortunately, they crossed paths with Hybern soldiers, and half of them were severely injured, while the other half were helping the injured make their way towards a safe house Azriel mentioned when they finally killed the Hybern soldiers.

“We’re here,” Azriel called out to everyone. 

Everyone let out an exhausted sigh at the news and followed Azriel toward a beautiful house that was near a lake. 

Before they entered the house, Azriel turned towards everyone: “Before you enter, I want to express how sorry I am for not telling you about who you’re about to meet.”

Everyone exchanged concerned looks before entering the house. 

The second they entered the home they were met with the smell of fresh baked goods. “Y/n, I’m home,” Azriel called out: “I’m going to need you to bring out all of your healing oils and your delicate hands to help heal some of my friends”.

Everyone exchanged shocked looks at the fact that Azriel had kept the fact that he had a significant other.

Right when Cassian was about to question his brother on how he was able to keep such a secret from them, a feminine voice came from upstairs. “Daddy, Ophelia took my favorite dress and ruined it ! ! !” Your daughter Anastasia cried as she rushed down the stairs with her ruined dress in her hands.

On cue, your other daughter came rushing behind her sister: “It was an accident!!!!”

“No, it wasn’t ! ! !” Anastasia cried: “You knew I had my date tonight with Achilles; you ruined it because you have a crush on him !”

That statement alone caused Azriel’s heart to stop: “There is no way you are going out on a date. You’re just a child ! ! !” Azriel argued.

“Daddy, I’m 89 years old,” Anastasia replied: “I’m allowed to date.”

Throughout the exchange, the inner circle tried to wrap their head around the fact that Azriel had a secret family and had been hiding them for at least 89 years. 

That’s when you appeared with a tray of healing oils and cream: “Ophelia, Anastasia apologize to our guests for your behavior and either helps your two younger sisters in the kitchen or go to your rooms” you scolded your two daughters before acknowledging your guests: “Please make yourselves at home while I heal the injured”.

One by one you took the injured fae into a separate room and began to heal their wounds. While that happened, the rest of the inner circle started questioning why Azriel kept this from them. “Can you blame me?” Azriel asked: “I’m the spymaster of the night court; I’m bound to garner some enemies. I kept them hidden so no one would go after them.”

“But we could have helped,” Feyre replied: “We would have kept them safe.”

Azriel shook his head: “I wanted them to have a normal life. They deserve the normal and safe life I never had growing up. When I met y/n a hundred years ago and found out we were mates, I promised I would keep her safe. I doubled down on it when we discovered y/n was pregnant with Anastasia”. Azriel sighed and looked over at Rhysand and Cassian: “I really wanted to tell you about them, especially when I met y/n. I knew you guys would love her but I was scared for her safety.”

“I totally understand” Rhysand responded: “If I had the choice I would have done the same thing with Feyre and Nyx.”

“I also would have done the same thing,” Cassian replied as he took Nesta's hand.

Azriel sent his brother a smile before they heard tiny footsteps coming down the hall. “DADDY ! ! !” Two small faes no older than five came running into the room. “You’re home !” the girls said in unison and jumped onto Azriel’s lap.

“I find it amusing that Azriel only has daughters unless you have more hidden somewhere?” Amren commented as she watched your daughter’s kiss on Azriel’s cheeks.

Everyone started chuckling at Amren's comment: “Nope, I’m a girl dad and I wouldn’t change that at all” Azriel replied.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why is there a big age gap between your daughters,” Nesta asked.

Azriel couldn’t help but laugh as he responded: “We intended to only have two, but Charlotte came into our lives 5 years ago, and we didn’t want her to grow up alone, so we had Amélie two years later”.

“Daddy, pay attention to me,” Charlotte grabbed her dad's face: “I helped Mommy make the pastries today; do you want to try one?”

“Can I have one Mommy?” everyone turned and realized Nyx was finally awake and looking up at Feyre.

“Yes ! ! ! !” both Charlotte and Amélie got off their father's lap and went over to Nyx: “You are going to love them”. Charlotte and Amélie each grabbed Nyx’s hand and ran towards the kitchen to get a treat.

Right at that instant, you reappeared with a now-healed Elain by your side. “I told those girls those pastries were supposed to be a surprise for their father,” you huffed out before you acknowledged everyone in the room: “Would you like me to bring the pastries out here for you?”

“Actually, let me help you bring everything out,” Feyre volunteered, followed by Nesta and Elain.

As soon as you were gone, Rhysand leaned over and whispered into Azriel’s ear: “Listen, I get why you hid this from us, but now that we know, please let us know if you need anything for them. They are family and we always protect family”.

“Thank you, Rhysand,” Azriel smiled at Rhysand: “I really don’t know what I would do without my family”.

Rhysand was about to pat Azriel’s shoulder when Nyx came rushing in with a grin on his face: “Uncle Azriel, I’m going to marry Charlotte AND Amélie ! ! !”

The color drained from Azriel’s face at Nyx’s statement. “I’m sure you will, Nyx; let’s go see what’s taking your mother so long in the kitchen,” Rhysand quickly got his son and exited the room before Azriel could respond.

[srslyblvck]

injured, five hargreeves

pairing: five hargreeves x gn!reader

synopsis: you and five hated each other, everyone knew that. you both bickered like children. so what happens when you are in front of his house, injured?

genre: fluff

warnings: blood, injuries

word count: 0.7k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ YOU NEVER LIKED FIVE. He was insufferable, arrogant, and always acted like he was the smartest person in the room—which, unfortunately, was often true. But that didn't make him any less intolerable. The feeling was mutual, and everyone in the Commission knew it. They watched in bewilderment as the two of you hurled insults at each other, yet when it came to missions, you both worked like a well-oiled machine. The IT duo, they called you, though you’d never admit you found some satisfaction in that title.

But the minute the mission was over, the bickering resumed. It was like you couldn't help it. He’d make a snide remark, and you’d fire back, both of you sparking a fire that never quite died down. It was exhausting, but in some twisted way, it kept you sharp.

Tonight, however, was different.

you were stumbling down a dimly lit alley, clutching your bleeding side, blood seeping through your fingers with every step. The world around you was blurring, spinning, and you couldn’t think straight. You didn’t know where to go, or who to turn to. Your mind was a fog of pain, but one name pushed through the haze—Five.

It made no sense. He was the last person you’d ever willingly go to for help. But at that moment, with death breathing down your neck, his house was the only place you could think of, the only place that might be safe. Even if he was the last person you wanted to see right now.

So you forced your legs to move, one agonizing step at a time, until you found yourself at his door, barely holding on. You raised a shaky hand and knocked, the sound weak against the door. A part of you hoped he wouldn’t be home, that you’d pass out here and this whole mess would be over. But the door swung open, and there he was, staring at you with a mix of shock and disbelief.

You tried to say something, but all you could manage was a weak whisper. "I didn't know where else to go..."

Your vision blurred as you felt your knees buckle, and the world started to fade to black. Before you could hit the ground, though, you felt strong arms catch you, holding you up.

Five's heart pounded in his chest as he looked down at you, barely conscious and bleeding. He hated you—no, he loathed you—but seeing you like this, broken and vulnerable, sparked something he couldn’t quite place. He muttered a curse under his breath as he picked you up, carrying you inside with surprising gentleness.

He laid you on his bed, his eyes scanning your body for the source of the blood. The sight of you like this made something twist in his gut, something he didn’t want to acknowledge. But there was no time for that. You needed help, and fast.

He grabbed a first aid kit, hands trembling slightly as he opened it. His eyes lingered on the hem of your shirt, drenched in blood. He knew he had to remove it, but he hesitated, cursing himself for feeling so conflicted. Finally, he shook his head, forcing himself to focus. If he didn’t do this, you’d die.

Carefully, he peeled the bloody shirt away, averting his eyes from anything but the wound on your side. It was bad—deep, and still bleeding heavily. He worked quickly, cleaning and bandaging it as best as he could. Every few moments, he glanced at your face, now pale and eerily still, his mind racing with thoughts he didn’t want to have.

Who did this to you? Who would dare lay a hand on you?

The thought of someone else hurting you filled him with a rage he hadn’t expected, a simmering anger that only intensified with every glance at your unconscious form. If he found out who did this, they’d regret ever crossing you.

As he finished bandaging your side, he grabbed a hoodie from his closet. He carefully slipped it over your head, his fingers brushing against your skin as he did. He was cautious, trying not to hurt you more than you already were.

As he finished, he sat beside you, his mind racing. The sight of you so vulnerable, so close to death, shook him more than he cared to admit. He hated you, or at least that’s what he told himself every time you exchanged sharp words or shot him a scathing glare. But seeing you like this stirred something in him that he couldn’t quite place—a protectiveness he didn’t know he had.

He clenched his fists, staring at the ground, forcing himself to remember all the reasons he couldn’t stand you. The way you challenged him, the way you never backed down, the way you always had to have the last word. But as he glanced at your pale face, a different thought crept into his mind—what if you hadn’t made it to his doorstep?

Five shook his head, pushing the thought away, refusing to let it take root. He wasn’t going to dwell on that, wasn’t going to let himself feel anything other than annoyance. You’d live, you’d recover, and then you’d go back to bickering like you always did. That’s how it had to be.

But for now, he stayed by your side, watching over you, waiting for the moment when you’d open your eyes and start another argument. And for once, he found himself looking forward to it.

[dearest-nell]

a real piece of art

e.m x reader, 2.8k

summary: eddie has some time to kill, and you might just be his new favourite distration. includes: art history student!reader, meet cute, eddie's an absolute dork warnings: mentions of nudity in artwork and allusions to a young eddie who is very excited by the prospect.

a/n: this came to me as i stared blankly into the void of my coffee machine this morning. i'm incapable of proofreading as per usual. i could be convinced to do a part two

Eddie had no business being here. This was an art gallery for crying out loud! He couldn’t remember the last time he’d stepped in one, save that one unfortunate field trip in middle school where he’d been caught ogling a half naked sculpture in front of half the class. Sue him, he’d never seen a naked girl before, and he really had to give credit to the artist because he couldn’t look away. He’d been called a perv for a good year after that, and he’d never thought to visit another gallery again. 

Until now, that was. He was due for a practice and soundcheck in what he thought was only an hour, but somewhere along the line Jeff had got the time wrong, leaving Eddie stuck in Chicago with nothing but his ego to keep him company. Eddie had kicked himself for the mistake – who rehearses at 10 am anyways? There was a silent agreement that Gareth would be handling the bookings next time, where Eddie might be able to actually stay in bed until a reasonable hour. 

He’d thought to burrow down in a cafe for a little while, but the snooty businessmen and shrill giggles of the barista had sent him fleeing. The environment wasn’t conducive to good thinking anyways. He figured a little solace would do him some good, maybe give him some hard earned inspiration to turn into music for the band. So with coffee in hand, he’d taken to the streets, wandering idly as the strings of bodies moved in tandem, dodging and weaving the tracks of Tuesday morning commutes. It might have been enough for him had his jacket not been too thin for the sudden drop in temperature. Worn denim with steamed patches was hardly enough to break the piercing gusts of wind, and even his sweltering coffee in hand could not keep his hands from shaking. Looking around, Eddie felt out of luck. Cafe’s seemed too busy, and he had no real desire to start wandering shops nearby, so what was there left to do? 

$14 later, Eddie puffed a relieved sigh as the warmth of the gallery enveloped him, that trembling cold slowly dissipating from his veins until his hands no longer felt like ice. He figured he’d have taken any sanctuary, though he had been hoping maybe for a Library. At least then he could have bunkered down somewhere with a book. What did you even do at a gallery anyways?  He didn’t see much point in wandering around, scanning his eyes over paintings that seemed a million years old. He didn’t get art. Music was his art, after all. Even as he started to walk, all the pieces seemed to bleed together for him. Acrylics and oils and gouache melted into the blur of faces and places and things. Sure, they looked pretty, but Eddie couldn’t see why anyone would waste their time to sit and paint something like this, let alone stare at it for hours. 

He passed through room after room like this, brows furrowed, arms crossed as he tried to puzzle out the meaning. Music and melody had meaning, lyrics filled with the words people couldn’t seem to say any other way. The sounds of instruments were sounds of heartbeats, of head rushes and blood flow and heart aches and burning desires – paintings couldn’t do that, could they? 

Wandering into a smaller room, Eddie found himself caught as his eyes fixated on perhaps the only worthwhile piece of art he had seen all morning. There you were, perched somewhat uncomfortably on the plush leather seat in the room's centre, head resting delicately into cupped palms, your elbows propping you up into a figure he was sure was only meant for statues. You looked like one of the Greek ones, he thought, all soft and graceful curves, pretty lines and prettier expressions. There was a notebook in your lap, though Eddie couldn’t begin to make out what the blurry pen strokes might have  noted at this distance. 

You seemed so lost in thought as you stared at the piece directly before you, eyebrows knitted in concentration to match the deep set focus of your eyes, and Eddie, despite himself, was lost in you. 

It was a horrifying notion to realise he was back in this same situation again, entirely different and yet all the same. Here he was, stuck motionless, staring helplessly at something beautiful, something entirely foreign to him. Naked breasts had been enough to melt a twelve year old Eddie’s mind, but this Eddie, now grown, was entirely transfixed for another reason. Never in his life had just looking at a person knocked the wind right out of him. This was beyond attraction, he thought. Beyond a pretty face and a beautiful body and all those hormones that made people spin. You were all of that, and so much more. 

How he knew that seemed entirely out of reach, but the thought settled in him all the same. 

Eddie watched the subtle angle of your head, the way you tried to see from a different perspective, before fixating your attention on your notebook once more, scribbling away furiously at stained parchment. 

All better judgement seemed to leave him as he approached, slow and long strides to avoid the echoes of boots against floorboards in such vastness. His body took residence beside the lounge, standing tall at the opposite end, arms crossing as he tried to see what it was that had you so fascinated. 

Cheese. Bread. Nuts of some kind. He tilted his head as you had, browns furrowing in confusion. Still cheese. Still bread. Still nuts of some kind. He let out a defeated huff. 

“Are you okay?” 

He hadn’t expected you to speak, let alone notice him, but when he turned his chin towards you he was met with a curious expression. You were even more captivating up close, as it turned out, so much so that he could not decide what captured his attention more. The soft bags of sleepless nights hung low under your eyes, your cheeks flushed with a dusty sort of colour that only the artifice of candies could achieve, your cheeks indented so delicately with the lines of so many smiles that had come before. 

It was embarrassing in his eyes that he was still gawking, and even more embarrassing that you had to ask your question a second time. 

“Oh– yeah. I mean… yeah. Sorry. Was I being too loud?” 

The soft shake of your head was accompanied by an even gentler smile, and Eddie felt his shoulders ease a fraction away from his ears. 

“No, not at all. Just seemed like a forlorn sigh.” You pointed out, uncrossing your legs to lower your feet to the ground. 

Eddie’s brow raised, his tone lilting with amusement. “Forlorn, huh?” 

You shrugged, though Eddie could see the slow creep of embarrassment flush your cheeks, your hand lifting to rub at it absentmindedly. “Yeah, I guess. It was just the first word that came to mind.” 

Eddie was smiling before he knew what he was doing. “I like it. Forlorn. Like it’s from a poem, or something.” 

A soft hum of contemplation fell from your lips, your pen scratching nervously in the margins of your notebook, patterns of stars falling into the sea of words below. “Could be. Poets are meant to be all crestfallen and stuff.” 

He actually laughed at that, something sounding like a punched out breath leaving him, his eyes crinkling delightfully at the corners. 

“Are you a writer or somethin’? You don’t just hear people saying words like that every day. Gotta know them by trade.” 

You shrugged again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind the curve of your ear. “Student, actually. Art history, so I guess fancy words are part of the curriculum.” 

It seemed strange to be meeting you like this, like someone high above had heard his complaints only to send him an angel to set him straight. An art student; maybe you could teach him a thing or two. 

Eddie gestured to the seat beside you, flat palm dampened nervously at the prospect of speaking to someone so pretty, so much more learned than him. You nodded shyly, not bothering to adjust as he took up the empty space beside you, his elbows propping on his knees for comfort. 

“Can I ask you something, then? Since all of this is your thing.” 

You closed your notebook, folding your legs beneath you once more as you fixated your attention on him – something Eddie was sure no man could ever tire of wanting from you. “Sure”. 

“Why are you staring at this one? Out of all the pictures in this place, what makes cheese so interesting.” 

The astonished little chuckle that left you was something sacred, golden and warm and louder than he had anticipated. You could put that laugh to song. Maybe he would. 

“It’s not the cheese,’ You clarify, your smile never shifting from your lips, “though it looks great, doesn’t it? Looks real.” 

Eddie took in the piece once more, letting his eyes trace over the food to take in the finer details. It was true; it looked real. He could see the shadows, the cracks in the bread, the crumbs that had fallen onto the platter below. He realised it mustn’t have been easy to make something so real. It felt like a snapshot. 

Oh fuck, do I get art now? 

“Yeah, it looks real. Kinda crazy real, actually. How do they get it looking like that?” 

“It’s different for different people. This one’s by Peeters, and no one’s sure where she learned to paint, but she was one of the only female professionally working artists of the 17th century. She was a big deal.” 

Eddie tilted his head towards you. “Is that why you like her, then?” 

You shook your head, scrunching up your nose. “It’s very impressive, but it’s not the only reason. I was looking for her signature.” 

Eddie did not need to clarify himself, the confusion that etched across his face spoke volumes, leaving you to laugh again in amusement. 

“A lot of artists leave signatures so you know a work is theirs. Sometimes it’s their name, or an item, or a seal – sometimes it’s on the back, sometimes it’s made to look part of the picture. She writes her name down at the bottom, see?” 

You leaned in a little closer to Eddie, lining up his gaze with your own so you could point out a flourish of cursive in the corner. Drawn into you, Eddie could not help but lean into your orbit, his eyes following the line of your finger to its destination. “Oh yeah. Musician’s do that too, y’know. Chuck in a riff or a line or something to leave their mark.” 

“Seems like it’s an artist's thing. I think it’s pretty cool.” 

Eddie liked the insinuation that musicians were artists. He’d met too many people in his life who’d thought otherwise, who did not understand the value of art. He supposed he was one of them, though. He’d been ratting on the art around him only five minutes earlier. 

“You like music, then?” He asked, eagerness in his voice betraying the cool persona he was hoping to achieve. 

“I love music.” You confirmed, hands busily occupying themselves by twiddling the pen in your lap once more. “I wish they played music here. Imagine looking at all the art and listening to songs that fit. There’s these big dramatic paintings a few rooms over that are just begging for a rock instrumental to accompany it, and the cheese…” you trailed off, seemingly embarrassed to have been so caught up in the idea. “I feel like I'd be lost in it forever.” 

Eddie closed his eyes for the briefest moment, letting the vision of your little dream settle in his mind. He could get around that, art and music together – two worlds colliding. It seemed all the more enticing to think you would be there too, humming away as you watched the paintings and he watched you. 

“I think it sounds brilliant. You tell me when you’re building this fancy gallery and I’ll be the first one there.” 

He might have died at the sincerity with which you smiled. No heart was meant to withstand such adoration brimming inside of it. 

“You know, I–” you paused, garnering some courage to find the words, “the signature I was talking about before? That wasn’t the one that had me looking at this. The cheese, I mean.” You gestured vaguely towards the canvas before you, though Eddie was unwilling to peel his eyes from the work of art before him. 

“Yeah? What had you looking, then?” He couldn’t believe that for the first time in his life, Eddie actually cared about what was splayed across a canvas. Whatever it was that intrigued you so, he was aching to know. 

“She painted herself in the reflection of the lid on the jug. Up the top… see?” Adjusting the items in your lap, you slowly rose to your feet, extending a hand out to drag the boy up with you. Eddie faltered only for a second, contemplating whether this one single touch would make or break him. Would the sweat of his palms disgust you? He was so nervous to talk to you, after all, to take this chance. He swallowed, slipping calloused fingers into your own until he felt unperturbed digits grasp his own, your expression unphased as you guided him towards the wall. 

You both paused a foot short, your free hand pointing upwards to guide his flittering eyes. Lo and behold, painted so delicately into the reflection of the jug, was a face staring back at him. His hand squeezed your own with untapped excitement, and Eddie’s mouth dropped. 

“Holy shit, that’s so cool. That’s really her?” 

You nodded, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah, that’s Clara.”

It was silent for a beat, the two of you soaking in the image before you; the woman in and amongst all the pieces of a life lived so long ago. It was a moment in history, much like the one the two of you were caught in now. 

Eddie marvelled helplessly, unsure what seemed to amaze him more; all these details that he never would have noticed if it weren’t for you, or the fact that you, a complete stranger, were still holding on to his hand as if it were something normal. For the briefest moment, he wondered if this could be normal, you and him. 

“I think this is the ultimate signature in a painting, just writing yourself into the story like that. It’s such a small thing, but… it changes everything, doesn’t it?” You broke the silence, voice a little dream like as you spoke. Eddie could only nod dumbly, a contented smile spreading across his face. 

“You wouldn’t wanna show me more of these, would you?” 

Eddie couldn’t stand the idea that you might walk away after this, back to your own life that until now had been so far away from his own. He wanted to walk the whole gallery with you, your hand in his, your voice whispering sweet nothings about the history and details of the world around you. 

The sheer excitement that crossed your features was an expression unmatched, never before seen. It was like he had asked you the one question you had been waiting for your whole life. Maybe you had been. Maybe no one had ever taken interest in the thing you seemed to love so much. He knew what that was like after all, his music had not been everyone's cup of tea. 

Maybe it could be yours.

“Oh, I– really?” 

“Only if you want to. I spent my whole time here trying to work out what made this stuff so special; I think you might be the one to show me. I’ll buy you coffee as thanks, if you like. I mean… I’d like to take you out for coffee.” 

He felt like a bumbling idiot, pausing to breathe an embarrassed chuckle. “You can also tell me to get lost at any time.” 

Eddie wasn’t sure if you noticed the way your hand seemed to tighten in his own, the movement causing his heart to beat in unsteady rhythms. It was something so small that seemed to shift his entire world – your hand holding his. 

Your head tilted with a smile. “You never said your name, y’know.” 

“Eddie.” He breathed out a little too fast. He’d have to kick himself later for it, because right now, he was too fixated on the way his foolishness seemed to make you smile all the wider. 

“Eddie.” You echoed, turning your body to face his own. “I’d love a coffee.” 

It took everything in him not to fist bump in triumph, his body aching to wriggle with the excitement that was slowly taking over muscle by muscle. How the hell had his morning turned out this good? 

“Sounds like a date, then.”

(images not mine)

“Still Life with Cheeses, Almonds and Pretzels” by Clara Peeters (ca. 1615)

[dystopyx-blog]

more yandere octotrio!

Dedicated to @mr-trick <3 ty for your support

"Your grades have been slipping."

When you had been called into Azul's office, you certainly weren't expecting him to scold you like a parent. To add insult to, well, insult, Jade and Floyd were there, too, and the latter couldn't stop themselves from snickering.

"I wasn't aware that was any of your business." You shot back. You didn't bother asking how he knew–you'd had twin eels trailing you since Azul's overblot. It was rare for you to go anywhere these days without the sight of one looming at you from this distance. If their heights didn't make them obvious enough, there was the eyes. Though you had a feeling stealth wasn't the goal.

You'd be right. The tweels found it very important that you knew they were close by. Azul may have preferred for them to be stealthier, but they enjoyed your reactions too much. Plus, their presence kept others away. It's probably why Azul let them continue.

But back to the scene at hand.

Azul's response comes naturally, almost too naturally–as if he was prepared for that response. "Of course it is. The success of Night Raven students has always been my business–"

The look you hit him with was enough to stop him in his tracks.

He chuckled, adjusting his tie and his approach. "Of course, business has changed in recent times. In the past the goal was to attract as many poor unfortunate souls as I could, offering contracts with the goal to better myself, and not them. But now I've mended my ways and made a switch, so to speak. Now I wish to truly help and better those I come into contact with, starting with those I already feel close or indebted to. And what better first than the one who helped me see the light in the first place."

He waited for your response, but you offered none. Not unless you included your suspicion.

"Look, business has been rough lately since the incident, and helping you seems like the best way to restore people's faith in me."

"And thus the truth comes out."

You were so proud of yourself for sussing him out. What you didn't know is that that wasn't the truth–like at all. He didn't give a fuck what the other students thought of him, especially since he was still getting business regardless. This was about you and spending time with you, the strange, magicless student that had caught his attention like a worm on a hook. Buy to you, that would be even harder to believe than an act of true goodwill.

But that didn't matter anyway, because he had you. You agreed to help him out of the goodness of your heart–taking the opportunity to mock him. It was difficult for Azul to keep the smirk from his face as you fell into his hand. He could tell the twins felt the same way. Even if he couldn't see then standing behind him, he could still tell when Jade's gloved hand went to cover his smile, and when Floyd's slight sway stilled just enough to zero in on you.

With that, a deal had been made: you let Azul help you out of the "goodness of his heart," and you spread the word of Azul's redemption arc.

As soon as you're gone, Azul lets an easy smirk spill onto his face like oil in water.

"We got 'em boys."

What would follow is a series of study sessions, every night, either with Floyd, Jade, or Azul himself. Study session with Floyd rarely involve studying. Sometimes you would start with studying, but he’d always end up getting bored at some point, and then declare you two would be doing something else. Other times, you wouldn’t even get a chance to study, as he’d already be dragging you off somewhere before you can even set your stuff down. Floyd, being Floyd, ‘something else’ could include anything depending on his mood. Some examples of activities you’ve done during study sessions with Floyd: karaoke, ping pong, pottery, a treasure hunt all over the school for something Floyd lost a while ago and had suddenly remembered at that moment (it was in his pocket), ballroom dance classes, shopping, video games, baking. You don’t even bring any study materials with you at this point.

Jade and Azul are more what you’d expect from tutors.

Jade’s method of tutoring is hands off. He mostly just has you do your homework while he sits across from you, working on his own stuff. And if you don’t have homework or finish before study time is up, he’ll give you readings and practice assignments to do. He encourages you to ask him questions whenever you have them, but for the most part, you two are silent. What you don’t realize is that he actually spends most of the time just staring at you. Studying you.

Azul is more hands on. Like with Jade, youre expected to either work on a class assignment, or one of Azul’s specially crafted study guides. Unlike Jade, who always sits across from you, Azul sits—or, more often, stands—next to you. Instead of just silently watching you work, Azul works you through each problem. He’ll often end up hovering next to you, sometimes taking your writing hand in his to guide you through whatever problem you’re working on. He also offers coffee/tea/snack breaks, where you two can just talk, not just about schoolwork, but anything else.

You’re spending every night with one of them. You often get back to Ramshackle late (especially if it was a session with Floyd). You don’t see Horns as much, if at all. Study sessions with your freshman friends become almost nonexistent. Even Grim is starting to see less and less of you everyday.

Who you end up spending the most time with is, of course, the Octotrio. Not just for nightly study sessions anymore. Floyd will approach you outside of tutoring for fun activities. Jade often offers you treats for doing so well, including trips to Sam’s and lunch at Mostró Lounge—all on him, of course. And Azul often pops in to check in on you—to make sure you’re holding up your side of the deal. And, even if you don’t realize it, there’s always at least one of them waiting to walk you to class.

It’s no secret that Azul basically always has business on the brain. And this? This was his strategic move to monopolize you, and he got you hook, line, and sinker.

[corpsebasil]

Just Friends 18+

You could not. Stop. Laughing.

You tripped over the edge of the couch and squeaked, almost hitting the floor before Nikolai wrapped an arm around your waist, catching you easily. Your husband fought for breath as well; you didn’t even remember what the hell he’d said that was so funny. And then you did.

A courtier during dinner had remarked on how cute the two of you were. You’d gave Nikolai the most aggressive side eye of your life, and he barely clamped down a laugh before winking at you.

“My wife outshines me, I’m sure.” He drawled, reaching over to twine his fingers with your own.

“She’s beautiful, yes.” The courtier smiled, pleased with his attention, and then looked to you, raising her delicate brows. “If it’s not too intrusive, will the court be expecting any princesses or princes soon?”

You’d coughed, choking on your wine at the prospect. You and Nikolai were a political alliance, arranged since you two were children; you had the chemistry of a science lab, unfortunately, but it only resulted in him being your closest friend and the easiest man to tease of your life.

“Oh yes.” Nikolai gave you the side eye this time, silently urging you to play the part. And then his next comment made your face go completely red. “Between you and me, I plan on bedding her as soon as this dinner is finished.”

You kicked his leg under the table, shooting him a look, and the courtier blushed madly.

“Oh my, that’s—” she blinked with embarrassment and found her napkin suddenly extremely interesting, giving up on a civilized conversation with the king.

So now the two of you were in your rooms, both still hot with amusement at how shamelessly he’d lied to the courtier.

“You’re a bastard.” You gasped, jumping away to head to the bedroom. He followed, still grinning, and watched as you set your crown on the side table like it was a watch, tugging at the laces on the back of your dress. “Shit, can you—”

“Yep.” His fingers found your stays as he undid them, used to having done this for you before. He’d had no idea how difficult women’s dresses were before he’d married you, watching you hop around in vain, reaching for strings just out of grasp. “And technically, sweetheart, I am a bastard.”

“If you’re a bastard I’m a usurper.” You groaned out loud when the corset finally loosened, allowing you to get a proper damn breath for once. “You’re as illegitimate as I am. Besides,” you turned and raised a brow, reaching out to unbutton the first few clasps of his shirt. “all monarchy is kind of illegitimate, don’t you think?”

“I love it when we think the same.”

You smiled as you worked, your hands lingering on the smooth material of his shirt as your eyes drank in the smooth, golden skin of his chest. You felt briefly distracted, fingertips reaching out to touch him, just a soft graze, before you sucked in a breath and whirled around.

“I’m running a bath.” You said, cheeks warming all over again, ignoring the feel of his curious eyes on your back.

The water warmed quickly, the large claw-footed tub spacious enough that you could sprawl out completely inside the thing. You added soaps and oils, turning the water milky white, then for fun added a couple of dried petals you saw in your shared bath-cabinet.

“Nik?” You called into the livingroom as you tied your hair up, clipping it into a pile of curls on the top of your head. “Could you get us a nightcap?”

You heard his noise of agreement as you stepped out of your clothes, slipping one dainty foot and then the other into the water. You sighed as you sank down into the warmth, the water reaching just above your chest as you pulled your knees up and wrapped your arms around them.

You heard Nikolai’s feet on the tile as he came into the bathroom, handing you a glass.

“What’s with you and your fancy baths?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the tub with a raised brow. He’d finished unbuttoning his shirt completely and it hung open, a clear view of his ridiculously chiseled top half on display. You ignored the sight and took a long sip of your drink.

“Better than roughing it with a garden hose and a three-in-one body wash like you and your men do in your war camps.”

Your husband laughed and shook his head slightly, agreeing wholeheartedly with you.

“That water hose is dangerous.” He confided, eyes widening comically. “Especially when the water pressure is too high. Could take your skin off.”

You giggled, setting your glass down beside the tub as you propped your elbows on your knees. His eyes wandered over your exposed skin, never lingering for too long anywhere, but you still felt the weight of his stare like an invisible hand.

“How come you’ve never tried to make a move on me?” You asked, brave only because of the drink, and his smirk was only half-hearted.

“I don’t take shots I think I’m going to miss, Y/N.”

Your smile was cautious as you reached out, grasping his hand. And then your expression turned wicked, and he barely had time to set his drink down, already protesting, before you yanked him into the tub. Your laugh was booming and, in Nikolai’s opinion, completely diabolical, as he wiped water from his eyes while he adjusted his back against the opposite side of the tub, his clothes completely soaked.

“You,” he said, jabbing an irritated finger, “are the bane of my existence. I swear on every Saint that you are.”

“You love me.” You teased, grinning fiendishly, but your heart skipped a beat when his expression seemed to soften, his eyeroll too late to save the moment of vulnerability. “You’re not going to miss, Nik. If you try it.” You added, scanning his face, and his smile grew mischievous.

“No?” He asked, voice low, but his eyes darkened when you moved forward, coming over to straddle his lap in the water. Your upper half was completely bare to him, your breath catching when his hands slid around your waist, running soft touches against your skin. “Y/N,” he swallowed roughly. “if we’re still joking, it ends here. Because,” he shook his head, still examining your naked torso. “Saints.”

“Still the bane of your existence?” You asked, voice quiet, as you slipped your hands around his neck and kissed him as soft as you dared.

You both seemed to inhale at the same time, his arms gripping you tighter as your heart dropped into your stomach. He was your friend, your best friend but—you were also married to the man. Surely that entitled some sorts of…physical benefits.

“That courtier doesn’t even know you weren’t lying.” You smiled a bit arrogantly, pulling back to shove his sodden shirt off of him. It hit the tile next to the tub in a wet splat, and both your heads turned at the sound.

“We’ll get it later.” Nikolai promised, and then grasped your face in his hands, kissing you hard. He let out a small noise of pleasure against your mouth and, when his tongue brushed your lips, you let him in.

Your eyes practically rolled back when he grounded you down into him, and suddenly he was way too clothed for your liking. The water sloshed as you pulled away and reached down, yanking at his trousers.

“This would’ve been much more convenient, darling, if you would’ve asked me to get naked before I got in the water.”

“Just—” you huffed in annoyance but finally got them down his hips, and he lifted you up for a moment as he pulled them off, the soaked clothing joining his shirt with another comical splat.

You both laughed, then, at the ridiculousness, but your laughter quickly died in your throat when he scooped you back up into his lap and began kissing your neck, his other hand moving lower, and lower. You gasped when he nipped your skin in the same moment he ran his fingers across you, then slid inside, curling gently as he hit the spot that made your stomach drop.

“You taste oddly floral.” He mused, running his tongue over your skin as he lazily fucked you with his fingers.

“Oh my god, Nik.” You whispered, slipping a hand into his hair to wrap around the blond curls.

“Yes, wife?”

“I want you.”

“Where? Tell me, love.”

You glanced down at him and gave him an annoyed look that faltered the second his fingers curled again, making your breaths heave in your chest. So you leaned into him, kissing him deeply before you spoke.

“I want you inside me.” You said against his mouth, and when you pulled away his eyes were so lust filled that the pang of desire that rushed through you would’ve knocked you on your ass had you been standing.

Nikolai didn’t say a word, only removed his hand and guided you further up over him, and you sank down on him in a smooth motion that made your head spin. He let out a gasping noise and gripped your waist, both of you struggling to breathe through the pleasure.

“You feel—” his voice was so hoarse and low you got chills. “shit.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, and slipped your arms around his neck, rolling your hips against his.

The water wasn’t nearly as warm as your skin as he thrust up, tugging your hips down to meet him every time. Your face pressed against his shoulder, your breathing ragged, and then you squeaked when he stood up suddenly, sending water sloshing onto the floor.

“Nik!” You yelped, even as your legs wrapped around his waist, changing the angle to a new, burning one. He kissed you as he walked, exiting the bathroom, ignoring your giggling protests as the both of you got water all over the floor. “Nikolai stop it you’re soaking the floor.”

“We’re soaking the floor, love. And the couch.”

“The—?” Your words were cut off when he laid you on top of the couch, settling back into you, snapping his hips against your own so hard you gasped, almost knocking your head against the arm of the couch. “Nikolai—”

“Fuck.” He groaned, burying his face in your neck as you took him, every inch of his gorgeous body pressed tight against yours.

You inhaled sharply when the sudden coil of pleasure, building so fast you’d hardly sensed it, snapped, and you let out a cry as he held you tighter to him, not letting you move an inch. He let out a soft moan against your skin and shuddered, the both of you trembling as you came down from the high. And then he was scooping you back up, into his lap, your breathing shallow as your heart raced in your chest.

“So,” Nikolai’s chest rose and fell quickly, his hands sliding up your bare, still wet back as his eyes studied your flushed face. “should I consider this a one time thing, or—”

You cut him off with a bruising kiss, your chest warm with an emotion you couldn’t place, especially when he kissed you back, a hand slipping into your wet hair and undoing the clip that held it up. As it tumbled around your shoulders he smiled softly, running his fingers through the strands.

“You’ve got gorgeous hair, you know that?” He said, tone almost contemplative, even as you blushed. His lips found your own again, soft and sweet, before he lifted you again, this time headed to your bed.

“Oh no,” you protested, grabbing the doorframe as you passed, legs still wrapped tightly around his waist. “we are not getting in bed wet. I refuse.”

“Whatever the lady wants.” Nikolai sighed, setting you down and heading off to get towels.

You watched him go, fighting an internal squeal as you realized exactly what you’d just done. And holy gods the man knew what he was doing when he made love. You grinned involuntarily as your eyes landed on your crown, even though you knew he’d tease you mercilessly if he saw what a girlish mess you’d become after he’d kissed and—

“Y/N?” You almost jumped out of your skin at his sudden words, spinning around to snatch a towel from him. His eyes glimmered with amusement, raising an eyebrow. “Daydreaming about me?”

“Of course not.” You lied, drying off and slipping a nightgown over your head. “I was thinking about chocolate. It’s very delicious.”

“Want me to get you some?” He offered, still amused, and you rolled your eyes.

“No. Now get in bed so I can kiss you again.”

His laughter was cut off by your mouth when you turned the lights off and practically pounced on him, his body warm and perfect against your own. You kissed for a while, just kissing, learning each other all over again as his hands ran over your skin, yours in his hair and grasping the back of his neck.

And the next morning, when a maid came in to bring tea and saw the absolute mess you two had made, water drying on the tiles and your sodden clothes by the still full tub, she blushed profusely and quickly left, not bothering to wait for dismissal.

[zablife]

Take a Ride

Johnny Davis x gf reader

Johnny Davis Masterlist

Summary: Johnny returns from a trip too exhausted for sex, but you have another idea meant to tease. Unfortunately for you, so does Johnny.

A/N: For @alfiestreacle

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, thigh riding, orgasm denial

The low scrape of boots scuffling across the linoleum instantly captured your attention amidst the quiet of the bar, indicating the return of the Vandals after a torturous week of waiting.

"I gotta go, Johnny's home," you rushed out in a single breath, slamming the receiver against the hook on the wall before your friend could even say goodbye. You scrambled off the stool, rushing past the row of pool tables to reach Johnny's office as quickly as possible.

You found your boyfriend slumped down in a chair, one hand resting at his temple as his heavy eyelids closed to the world around him.

Without saying a word, you climbed into his lap and snuggled deep into his warmth with a contented sigh.

He jumped slightly as your cold hands dove beneath his leather jacket, a surprised grunt escaping his lips which made you giggle.

"Welcome home, baby," you whispered, placing a tender kiss to the patch of gray in his beard. As you inhaled the scent of motor oil and musk lingering in the coarse hairs, you couldn't help continuing your trail of kisses which ended at the corner of his mouth. Licking against his plump lips for entry, you waited for his greed to overtake him as it always did.

Normally he would take you by the throat and push you against the desk for a quick fuck, but tonight he remained still, a look of defeat washing over his face.

Taking your chin in his palm, he ground out an apology in a rough, gravel filled voice. "M sorry, doll baby, too tired for that tonight," he explained, rubbing a thumb against the apple of your cheek.

Unable to stop the pout creasing your brow, you grasped his forearms, legs swinging to the ground with a huff.

"Don't do that," he warned, opposite hand spanking your bottom harshly.

Spurred on by his taunt, you leaned forward to press your breasts against him, wrapping your arms snugly around his neck. Lips grazing the shell of his ear you whispered sadly, "But you've been gone so long, baby." Rolling your hips over his muscular thigh, you attempted to remind him what he'd missed in his time away.

His hand stroked along your back, a knowing smile tugging at his lips as he reached for a pack of cigarettes off the desk. He took his time lighting one as he watched your hips rise and fall over the coarse material of his jeans, skirt riding up toward your waist with each pass.

As an unintentional moan ripped from your throat, Johnny couldn't help but chuckle. You were only succeeding in teasing yourself with this display. It was then that he decided to have a little fun with you.

"Tell you what, baby girl, you wait for me to finish this cigarette and I'll give you what you want, okay?" he assured you, rubbing his nose against yours and sealing his promise with a chaste kiss.

"You mean it?" you gulped, already feeling the heat rising in your core.

"Yeah," he nodded slowly, smoke billowing from his nostrils to hide the twinkle of mischief in his eye.

"O-okay," you practically panted, fingers scrambling for purchase along the slippery planes of his jacket. The drag against your cotton panties was unbearably delicious and the occasional bounce of Johnny's knee, sent electric shocks through your clit. It was enough to keep you undulating over him in a steady rhythm despite the reward of his touch waiting for you.

Heart beat rising steadily in your chest, your eyes darted to the ash growing at the end of the cigarette wishing it would burn faster. You tossed your head back to keep from thinking how much longer it would be until it singed his fingertips, reminding him of your need for him. Couldn't he see it in your clenched teeth and the way your thighs trembled?

You attempted to put your mind anywhere except your aching leg muscles which were beginning to burn from the repetitive motion.

As you continued to ride him, your little yelps of pain and pleasure melded together so sweetly. Johnny almost hated himself for the way he was torturing you...almost. Though he tried to talk himself out of it, watching you ruin yourself was far too much fun to stop now.

Waiting for a moment when your eyes closed to the overwhelming sensations, he reached for another smoke. Lighting it with the end of his burning cigarette, he bit the inside of his cheek to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"Little longer, darlin'. You can do it," he goaded you, watching a sheen of sweat coat your brow.

You whined pathetically as a tear threatened to spill down your cheek, Johnny leaning in to sweep the sticky strands from your forehead lovingly.

"Such a pretty girl," he cooed. "You ain't gonna cry are ya?" he asked patronizingly, placing a kiss to your temple.

"N-n-no," you stuttered, wanting to be good for him. The last thing you wanted to do was disappoint Johnny.

"That's real good, darlin'," he said, wedging his thigh between your legs harshly and making you cry out.

Then just as suddenly, he left you completely bereft, arms falling to his sides without the slightest touch. He sat back and watched your efforts with a proud look on his face, his sweet little thing so desperate for him she’d get herself off on his thigh while he smoked without a care.

But your movements soon stalled, unable to bring yourself to climax and Johnny realized he'd pushed you too far.

Collapsing against his chest, the tears fell hard and fast as you admitted, "I can't...can't do it on my own."

Johnny swiftly extinguished his cigarette on the desk, not even bothering to find the ashtray. All condescension gone from his voice, he spoke to you gently as his strong hands gripped your waist.

“S'okay darlin, gonna make you feel good just like I promised.” His fingers dug into you like anchors, dragging you against him in a soothing rhythm. In no time sparks reignited against your needy pussy as Johnny picked up speed, his fervor renewed by the glimpse of your slick coating his broad thigh.

When your tear stained face rose to meet his earnest look, he took one hand away to massage your breast, fingers teasing your pert nipple through the flimsy material of your top.

That's all it took for you to fall apart, lips parting in ecstasy as your whole body shook in pleasure.

"There's my girl, take what you need, sweetheart," he urged, feeling your small hands push against his chest willfully.

"Feels so good," you moaned against him, clutching his shirt in your hand.

He cradled the back of your head in his palm, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss as he rocked you.

“Keep goin’,” he mumbled against the press of your lips, helping you prolong the feeling as long as possible.

As you came down from your high, your heavy limbs began to hang loosely over him like a rag doll and Johnny held you close to keep you from tumbling off his lap.

He waited for the sound of your contented sighs before lifting you up into his arms and taking you home.

[woongisi]

Hot & I Hate It // Park Sunghoon

power struggle but eventual sub!Park Sunghoon x dom!fem!Reader // SMUT

WC// 4.1k

Synopsis// Park Sunghoon is the thorn in your side. The really hot thorn in your side. An "apology" visit changes your view on him for good.

Warnings// arguing, unprotected sex (use protection please xx), drinking, name calling (slut, whore), pain play (smacking), dacryphilia

Author's Note// I've been sitting on this baby for so long and finally got the motivation to complete it. Idk how I feel about it but I hope you all enjoy. ☺︎

---------

7:16 pm

“Sunghoon. I'm so serious. I need you to stop talking before I shove this pen into your throat.”

Your best friend, Sunoo, being part of a band had its perks, it was hard to get hit on by greasy strangers when you're surrounded by 7 men you, for the most part, trust. It had its cons too… the biggest being the existence of Park Sunghoon. He was cocky, always made fun of you, and seemed to make it a point to push you to your limit. The only positive you could think of was that he was, at the very least, eye candy. Unfortunately for you, he was still part of the band, and he was still one of Sunoo’s closest friends. There was no changing that.

You'd only been out to dinner for around half an hour. Jake had found some pizza joint with drinks and cheap food. In that half hour alone Sunghoon had made fun of your height, and your choice of clothing, and bumped into you a few times which you assumed was on purpose. The food hadn't even made it to the table. Whatever the reason, you especially weren't in the mood for his shit today.

“Aww, I'm so scared.” Sunghoon leaned back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest. “You gonna throw a hissy fit, huh?”

“You know what.” In one quick movement, you shoved your chair backward and slammed your hands down onto the table as you stood up. “Fuck you, Sunghoon. I'm going.”

Grabbing your purse and heading toward the door, Sunoo called after you. “Where are you going?! At least tell me where! You didn't even drive here!”

“Anywhere that isn't with that asshole!” You slammed the door behind you.

“Damn. What's up with her? I thought you were just joking around.” Sunoo murmured and shoved his face into his hands. “I should go after her. It's not safe to be out around here alone. Sunghoon, you're coming with.”

“What about the pizza-”

“Get up.”

“Fine.”

7:23 pm

In the meantime, you'd slipped into some grimy little dive bar a few streets down. The cleanliness was questionable, and it smelled concerning at best, but you supposed they didn't serve food. Perhaps the standards weren't so high. Fighting back tears, you slapped your card down on the counter and waved for the bartender.

“Give me something strong. I don't care what it is… Please.”

Thanking the man and tossing your head back, the shot burned the entire length of your throat. “Shit tastes like motor oil… guess I got what I asked for.” You sighed and ordered a cocktail. Something fruity, something to lift your mood.

A man took the bar stool next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Did you come here all alone?”

You hesitated, feeling uncomfortable already. “No… My friends are in the bathroom. They'll be back in a minute.”

“Playing hard to get? I watched you come in. Not a soul following you.” He pulled the thin strap of your shirt and let it snap back against your skin.

“Fine… You got me. Can you just let me be? I'm not in the best mood.” You chuckled half-heartedly and swatted his hand away.

“Aw, this kitty has claws. What's the matter? I just wanna talk. I can cheer you right up.”

By the time Sunghoon and Sunoo made it to the bar, you were a few too many drinks deep and desperately trying to convince the man to leave your side. They'd checked every building in the area, asking if anyone had seen a girl yay high in a black crop top and long black pants.

You heard a set of footsteps approaching you from behind, clutching your purse and preparing to have to fight.

“Leave her alone, shithead.” Sunghoon’s voice rumbled over the snide comments of the stranger. “She's not into you.”

“Who are you? Her boyfriend?” He scoffed.

Sunghoon cringed slightly at the suggestion he'd ever date you but gave the man a shove all the same. “What's it to you? What? You can't get some pussy so you creep on lonely girls at the bar, huh?”

“Why you think pretty highly of yourself, huh? How about we take it out b-”

Taking note of the commotion, the bartender waved over security who grabbed the dirt bag by the collar and dragged him away, much to his displeasure.

“Thanks…” You muttered and stirred the ice of your cocktail with your fingernail. Your heart was heavy, a predator replaced by the most insufferable man you'd ever known.

“Don't mention it.” Sunghoon stopped and for a moment you thought you might've misjudged him. “I just did what Sunoo told me to do.”

“Oh? Great to know you care about me soooo much.”

“Don't get your panties all in a twist, jeez.”

You shot a razor-sharp glare to Sunghoon and stood up, moving behind him to cling to Sunoo’s arm.

“Sunghoon, get your act together and apologize when you can bear to act nice.” Sunoo sighed and pulled you into his arms tightly. You were crying into his shoulder now, staining the dark orange fabric of his sweater.

Sunoo was a constant for you, you'd known him for years. He was always there to support you and the familiarity was something you needed far too badly.

“Come on,” Sunoo tapped your lower back with his finger. “I'll pick up some drive-thru and drop you off at your apartment. Sunghoon, go back to the boys. I'll meet you there in a few.”

8:00 pm

The drive back to your home was quiet. You didn't say a word, staring absentmindedly out the window. Sunoo hummed along to the songs on the radio which provided you some small amount of comfort. Walking you up to your door, he brushed the hair out of your face.

“Stop crying, alright?” He smiled and wrapped his arms around you again. “Get some rest. I'll talk to Hoon… call me if you need me.”

“Thanks. Love you, man.” You nestled your head into the crook of his neck for a moment before pulling away from him, then you slipped into your apartment. You peeked your head out the door until he reached his car safely and then collapsed on the couch.

8:37 am

You awoke with a start, jumping out of your skin to the sound of someone knocking firmly on your door. You threw on some modest pajamas and opened the door, immediately pissed. Sunghoon. At your front door. Admittedly he looked incredible. His long black coat was double-breasted, adorned with silver buttons, and taken in at the waist to compliment the shape of his body. His pants were just as well tailored, and his shoes well polished.

At some point in the night, it had snowed and was continuing to snow now. Sunghoon’s ears and cheeks were flushed pink by the biting cold. Fluffy white snowflakes decorated the black hair that landed so naturally to the sides of his face and more landed on his lashes before he quickly blinked them away.

“What do you want?” You avoided his gaze, shuffling your feet and feeling defeated.

“Sunoo thinks I'm here to apologize.”

“So you aren't?”

He simply shrugged and questioned if you were going to let him in.

Reluctantly agreeing, you sat down on the couch with him clear on the opposite end. Neither of you said a word, but you could feel him staring at you even while you looked away.

“I was just messing with you, y’know.”

“You know I don't like it.”

“I know you overreact.”

You snapped your head to look at Sunghoon in bewilderment.

“You know what I know? I know that I hate your guts.”

“You gotta learn to calm down and take a joke.”

You were standing in front of Sunghoon now, annoyed at the way he lounged back on the couch and man spread like he owned the place.

“Honestly, Sunghoon. If you just get out of my fucking house you can tell Sunoo you apologized, and I'll even back you up. I was sleeping pretty peacefully until you got here. To be entirely truthful, I could die happy if I never saw your stupid hot face again! I could live my whole life without seeing those dark eyes or the little moles that dot your face and be-”

“Hot?” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m hot?”

You stared at him stunned, not even realizing what you'd said. You opened your mouth as if to speak but nothing came out. Those same deep brown eyes you'd thought about more than you'd ever admit were now resting heavily on your form.

“Shut up.” You hissed and crawled on the couch, straddling Sunghoon's lap and crashing your lips against his.

He gasped, processing what was happening, before grabbing your waist with his large hands. He attacked back with vigor, forcing your bodies closer together. Despite having spent time in the freezing cold, his body was searing. He tasted like bitter coffee, the scent of it lingering on his breath and mingling with the scent of your perfume.

“You know I wanted to like you,” You tugged on his bottom lip with your teeth. “I've always thought you were so fucking fine, but every time you open your mouth I pray to whatever higher power that you shut up.”

“You seem to like me plenty right now…”

“Stop talking. Please.”

Sunghoon made some sort of acknowledging nod, allowing you to settle back in. Your chests were pressed firmly together, your hands tangling through his silky black hair. Heavy breaths filled the surrounding air, panting against each other's faces with lewd strings of saliva connecting you.

“Hey,” Sunghoon’s voice was laced with need that made your stomach swirl. “I-I'm gonna be honest. I'm getting really hard here but if we're going to go farther I need to know if you really want to do this or if it's just the heat of the moment you'll regret later.”

You smoothed Sunghoon's hair back and pressed a kiss against the tip of his nose. The tenderness of your action made his train of thought falter.

“I mean it when I say I hate your guts,” You growled. “That unfortunately doesn't mean I hate the way you feel against me. Please make yourself useful, I want it.”

He let out a breathy “fuck” and lowered his hands to your ass, urging you to give him some kind of friction. He sheepishly heeded your warning of getting too greedy, you reminding him this was out of the kindness of your own heart. Sunghoon latched onto your neck, his sharp canine teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. Something was too good about the warmth of his mouth with the slight pain of his bites that was soon soothed by his plush lips.

“Sunghoon,” You moaned softly. “Bra. Take it off… if you even know how.”

He was quick to oblige, grabbing the hem of your nightshirt and aiding you in slipping it off. You donned a sports bra, one that closely matched your skin tone and featured a zipper up the front. You insisted they were more comfortable to sleep in and easier to remove this way.

The confused “ah?” that escaped Sunghoon was almost cute. He took the zipper in his shaky hands and unzipped it almost painfully slowly, biting his lip at the sight of your tits suddenly being free of their confines and spilling out.

“Damn…” Sunghoon muttered with wide eyes, making you feel suddenly vulnerable.

“So now you like what you see? Men. All the same.” You looked to the side in an attempt to hide the deepening blush on your cheeks.

Only after sneering, Sunghoon happily took your tits into his hands, squeezing lightly. His tongue swirled around your nipple, purposely avoiding the bud itself. Your hand rested on the nape of his neck so you could encouragingly (or rather, impatiently) dig your nails into his skin so he'd cut to the chase. Sunghoon harshly sucked your nipple between his teeth, tugging and swirling it in the process.

Sunghoon felt he could stay in this position forever and be completely content with his decision. He shuddered when you scratched his nape softly, trying to get his attention.

“As nice as this is… I didn't agree to this so you could use me like a stress ball.”

He considered making a snarky remark but thought better of it. The sight of Sunghoon’s flushed face and furrowed brows almost stressed you out, praying he couldn't feel the pulsing of your cunt against his lap.

“Alright, I'm sick of this…” You sighed, smirking at the way Sunghoon’s face twisted into a pout. “I think I'm going crazy, just get your dick out.”

The two of you scrambled off of the couch, removing most of your clothing in a hurry. You kept your panties on at first, allowing Sunghoon to rip them off of you as long as he bought you a new pair, a pair even nicer than the ones he'd ruined.

Settling back down on the couch, you lay on your back with Sunghoon moving to hover over you. Sunghoon freed his cock from the confines of his briefs and gave it a few languid strokes for good measure. The sight of him nearly stole your breath. He was of pretty average length, but girthy with a pleasant curve to the left.

Feeling precum drip onto your thighs, you huffed and pulled Sunghoon into a brief but harsh kiss. “I've been insulting you and treating you like shit this whole time, yet you're leaking all over the place. You like it when I'm mean to you, hm?”

“I… I guess I can't deny it at this point.”

“Slut.” You murmured, which caused Sunghoon to gasp in protest.

“I'm not a slut, what the hell?!”

“Yes, you are. Why else would you be so worked up from me degrading you? Say it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Sunghoon. Say you're my bitch or I'm putting my clothes back on right now and kicking you out.”

“Fine… I'm… I'm your bitch.”

Sunghoon despised the electricity that shot through his core when he heeded your demands. What the hell was he doing? He was supposed to be the one in charge, the one calling you names. Yet, the humiliation that burned his cheeks clouded his mind with hazy arousal.

You reached down, wrapping your hand around Sunghoon’s cock so you could guide the tip to your entrance, rubbing it in small circles against you.

“Are you ready?”

“As I'll ever be.”

Sunghoon's reply came across so softly, whining when you urged him to finally push into you. Every inch of him stretched your walls so intoxicatingly.

“Oh, fuck,” Your breath hitched once his hips finally pressed against your skin. “So good, Hoon, so good.”

“Ah? I haven't even done anything yet. That's all it takes to-”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Sorry…”

His thrusts were slow at first, too slow. You could tell he was absolutely relishing in the feeling of your walls around him, this would have irritated you if it didn't stroke your ego so well.

“Sunghoon,” He hadn't moved in a minute. Just staying in place with his eyes screwed shut, panting heavily. “Earth to Sunghoon. Speak to me or I'm shutting this whole operation down.”

Sunghoon’s eyes shot open, his pupils blown wide with lust. His hand moved to grab your own tightly. “W-wait, I'm ok. Promise. Just… so tight. Please.”

A moment later, Sunghoon seemed to regain his icy composure. Every slap of his hips against you brought a low grunt from him. Yet, every so often he faltered with a whine. He was trying his best to maintain some dignity though deep down he knew he was slipping.

Suddenly, your phone rang. Blasting some shit default ringtone you never bothered to change. You groaned as you reached for your phone, squinting at the brightness of your screen. It was Sunoo.

“Keep it down,” You warned. “It's Sunoo. I gotta pick up or he's gonna show up at my door.”

Sunoo sighed in relief when you greeted him. You sounded awake which was enough to convince him that Sunghoon had come to apologize like he instructed. You told him it had gone fine, that Sunghoon apologized and left, though you still hated his guts. Hah. Ironic, given he was in your guts at the present moment.

Snap. Sunghoon had apparently grown sick of waiting and granted a particularly rough stroke that slammed into your g-spot. You just about dropped your phone, doing your absolute best to stifle the noise of pure shock and pleasure that you let out.

“Y/N… you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry. Just stubbed my toe.” You feigned pain quite well to try and pass off the aforementioned moan as an unpleasant one.

You found yourself gripping Sunghoon’s hair tightly and pulling it angrily. Unfortunately for you, Sunghoon did not try to hide his reaction. Not that he had much of a chance to process how good it felt.

There was radio silence over the phone from you and Sunoo both.

“Y/N was that Sunghoon?”

No reply.

“Y/N.”

“I gotta go, I’ll call you in a bit. Byeee!”

“Woah, hold on, wait a sec-” Sunoo was cut off by you ending the call and practically throwing your phone across the room.

“Oh. Oh we’re screwed aren't we?”

Sunghoon’s voice speaking meekly sent a wave of ire through you.

“Oh. Oh we are. Guess what? It's your fault too.”

You sat up, causing Sunghoon to slip out of you. Grabbing the silver chain he'd so foolishly left on, you yanked him toward you, causing him to lose his balance for a moment and hurriedly try to settle on his knees.

“Oh, fuck!” Sunghoon's breath caught in his throat as you tilted his head upward and smacked him square across the face. He was trembling visibly.

A realization hit you with horror and intrigue. He was loving this.

“Oh my God! You really are getting off on me treating you like shit!” You smacked him again, this time with more purpose and calculated force. “You're no better than a common whore!”

“Don't stop. Please don't stop!” Sunghoon was absolutely desperate. He'd tried to explore this aspect of his sexuality before but hadn't had luck finding a girl willing to indulge him. He absolutely couldn't lose this now.

Pushing him into place so that you were now hovering over him in turn, you closed in on Sunghoon like he was your prey.

“Is this what you wanted, hm? Is this why you dedicate your time to getting under my skin?”

Sunghoon, at this moment, thought he could die. How could anyone be so indubitably hot? He felt vulnerable under you. Powerless. He was always the dominant one. Not just sexually. Tall, hot, imposing, and a man that people generally didn't want to mess with. You weren't scared of him. Sunghoon didn't understand why, but somehow he trusted you. Finally, he granted a reply. Perhaps it was time to give in.

“Yours. I wanna be yours.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “If I knew we'd end up like this I would've pushed harder. So, take it out on me. Whatever you want, I can take it.”

You could not believe your eyes. Your ears. Any of your senses. This wasn't an opportunity you were going to give up. You took a timeout to establish any hard boundaries and a safe word. You hated him (did you?), but he was still a person at the end of the day.

Sunghoon sat on the bed with his back against the headboard. You bound his wrists together with white rope that was specially designed with this in mind, then tied them to the posts of the bed. Normally it was being used on you. He looked gorgeous with the snowy bindings contrasting beautifully on his tanned skin. You cupped his cheek in your hand.

“Look at you.”

You forced your thumb into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue so that he'd open up, spit pooling before running down his chin. You always did appreciate his sharp canine teeth and now was no exception.

“You dirty boy. Park Sunghoon, all at my mercy.”

Sunghoon flinched when you took tight hold of his sore cock. You kept your grip tight with every deliberate stroke, causing him to whimper and buck his hips up against your hand. You released him only to place a firm slap to his shaft which you followed with soft soothing tugs. Sunghoon yelped, slumping over helplessly. He'd become so pliant for you, so obedient.

“So this is all it takes, Hoonie?” He whimpered at the pet name. “Just needed someone to boss you around to crack you open.”

You spent god knows how long teasing and tormenting Sunghoon until his cheeks were wet with salty tears. Eventually, you felt like you were torturing yourself with how needy you were with your pussy clenching against nothing. You untied Sunghoon’s wrists and granted him permission to touch you again. He took you up on this eagerly, his hands roaming your body mindlessly.

“Be a good fucktoy and maybe I’ll let you cum.”

A choked moan ripped from Sunghoon’s throat when you finally sunk down onto his cock. He was even more sensitive and jumpy than when he'd first entered you, and you were even wetter. One hand placed on his abdomen, you felt his stomach distend and shudder along every pathetic sob. Sunghoon's stomach was well toned, not rock hard, but sculpted. He had a noticeable happy trail that drove you absolutely insane.

Sunghoon clung to you like he might lose you, allowing you to ride him to your heart's content and doing his very best to thrust up into you at the same pace. The more overwhelmed he got, the more he struggled to keep up. His head was buried into the crook of your neck, drooling and whining against your soft skin. He really has lost all his will to maintain his attitude towards you. It almost made you melt.

“Sunghoon,” You softly raked your fingers through his silky black hair. “You doing ok, hm?”

“Y-yes, love your pussy, wanna cum-”

Your pace slowed down to a consistent level. You held Sunghoon as close as you could. He’d entrusted himself to you and you felt the need to keep him secure.

“Alright,” Your voice was soft in his ear. “Cum for me. You've earned it.”

Sunghoon let go with a high-pitched cry, his thighs shaking underneath you. His cum flooded your walls in warm spurts. Your orgasm followed soon after, squeezing each and every drop of semen from Sunghoon’s twitching cock.

The two of you were quiet for some time, clinging to each other and coming down from your highs. Once you pulled off of him, his cum spilled from your pussy down onto his hips. Though he clearly wasn't completely clear headed he was already making moves to get his clothes on and go.

“Where are you going?” You frowned.

“Uh. Home… I figured you would just want me out of here as soon as possible.”

“Sit down, Sunghoon. Just sit down.”

You tossed a loose t-shirt on and hobbled to the bathroom with a groan. Your legs were already this sore? You were so fucked tomorrow. Cleaning yourself up quickly, you proceeded to wet a cloth with warm water and make your way back to Sunghoon.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing this, Y/N? Why aren't you kicking me out?”

“It's aftercare, Hoon.”

“I…”

“I know. It's ok. You deserve it just as much as any of the girls you've slept with in the past.”

In the midst of you wiping the tears off of his face, Sunghoon looked up at you so weakly and did his best to keep himself from crying on the spot. He never expected you to let him be so exposed, never mind how sweetly you were treating him now. You handed Sunghoon his briefs and a throw blanket.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. For being such an asshole. Everything I’ve done for you was willing, even if it was Sunoo’s idea. I actually couldn't stand the thought of you being alone in that bar with strangers. It's just… when our reputation for fighting is so strong it's hard to let you know I care.”

“It's alright. I accept your apology. I think I should say sorry too, though. For refusing to let you in. You trusted me to watch over you in your most vulnerable state and I… I don't know. It will take time but I think we can really be something.”

Crawling into bed, you invited Sunghoon to stay awhile. It was still early, after all. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his strong, steady heart. He hesitantly grasped your hand.

“To new beginnings?”

“To new beginnings.”

[bambifornia]

Swindle Bakery AU!

Massachusetts, May 13th, 2155.

Swindle finds himself on Earth, nearly inches away from offlining. His entire frame aches, and his processor rings inside his helm. His data tracks can only replay a couple of memories before he slips into stasis mode. Bots chasing him, a shoot-out in an alien bar, him scanning a new alt mode, a ship crashing into the ground...

From there, it all goes black. Swindle didn't come back online until he found a little old lady seated behind the wheel, desperately trying to start the engine.

Swindle paused for a moment. When did this organic find him? What was she trying to do with him?

And when Swindle looked around and saw he was now parked at a car dealership, he wondered how he had managed to get himself there in the first place.

And he was horrified to find out that he didn't remember.

Summary

due to unfortunate circumstances involving a crash-landing and persecution from the Elite Guard, swindle finds himself back on Earth without any memory of how he got there. he's fortunate enough to find a sweet old lady, mabel, who offers him shelter while swindle tries to recollect his memories

during his stay, they both discover the other's talent. swindle nibbles on one of mabel's cookies (because he was damn near starving and couldn't find any energon or oil (and also he has a mod which allows him to digest some organic food, in case he's stranded without fuel)) and quickly becomes obsessed with mabel's baking

mabel, on the other hand, admires swindle for his knack for business. she laments how useful that skill must be and how she doesnt have it; maybe if she was more like swindle, she could save her dying bakery (which is like. 5 dollars away from bankruptcy lol)

the two then decide to strike a deal; swindle shares his expertise in exchange for a roof over his head (and an unlimited supply of treats). from there begins their alliance and they both start to reap the benefits from it in the form of profit.

what they both didn't expect to gain from this partnership, though, is a friendship

---

Notes

anyway that's the intro to this silly au !! if u guys wanna know more lemme know. i will be glad to share more of my silly lil ideas with you all

(and before anyone asks, there's a reason why I gave swindle a new form. he scanned a new alt form before slipping into stasis mode)

as always, the ppl who r still here reading this get a extra doodle. this doodle was made very early on, when I planned on making this au as a fic

anyway. that's it. bye bye

[floressokaap]

"What Was I Made For?"

Pairing: John Dory x Reader

Content Warning: none! Enjoy! :)

A/N: Hello! The majority of my fics will be AFAB w/pronouns unless specified/requested! Thank you!<3

Photo credit: etherealfeature on Instagram!

John Dory. You really didn't know exactly how to describe him. Many people describe him as somebody with narcissistic tendencies, and absolutely selfish. And, they were right. But what a lot of trolls didn't realize was the fact that you are in love with him, and he unfortunately stays trapped inside his mind for so long that he doesn't quite realize how good he has it right now.

After saving Floyd, everyone that parted ways started their recovery process due to their own talents getting slowly sucked out from them by ex superstars Velvet and Veneer. Floyd stayed with Branch in his underground bunker, Clay went back to the mini golf course with Viva to situate her reunion with King Peppy after the last Bergen attack, and Bruce went back to Vacay Island to be with his kids and Brandy. What did that leave you to do? The only thing you ever thought to do; To take care of John Dory and help him recover in Rhonda, wherever the roads took you both.

"JD, what are you doing?" Your ears perked at the sound of blankets rustling against the couch cushions. There was silence before a response was heard.

"I'm not doing anything, I'm resting like you're wanting me to."

You put a magazine down on the table and glanced over at him. He was slowly reaching for his jacket and goggles, and seemed restless. "We need food-" "JD, we already have food here for the both of us." He clenches his jaw slightly. He knew you were going to be hard to get through. "I need to check Rhonda's oil." He quickly sat up, and threw his fur coat on, slapping his goggles into position against his forehead. "You need to rest-" "I don't need to, I can't just NOT do anything, I'm the leader, I HAVE to be productive and do my part to make sure everything's perfect."

"John Dory, we're not doing this again."

He continued standing up and walking towards the side door. He looked down at the door handle, contemplating on your concerns before brushing them off his shoulders and walked out on you. You furrowed your brows and sighed in frustration.

You couldn't count how many times John Dory would have his perfection episodes, and pushed himself over the limits. Every time you call him out on those moments and try to calm him down, he refuses, and shuts himself out. You let him have about ten minutes of alone time outside before you eventually stood up from your seat and walked out Rhonda's side door. You expected him to be near her, but he was nowhere to be found. "C'mon JD.." you shook your head to yourself as you slowly walked around the forest where you were camping at. You started to worry before you found him sitting on a fallen tree log lying against the ground. He had his head lowered, and his forearms against his legs, staring at the earth beneath him.

You smiled in relief, because he didn't go very far as you knew deep down, and you slowly made your way to the seat right next to him. His shoulders fell more when he snapped out from his train of thought, and glanced over to look at you. You could see the pain in his eyes. His eyes were dry, and the crows feet near his eyes were more prominent and defined. "JD, are you.. alright?"

"Yeah, of course I'm alright!" He put on his photogenic leader and big brother smile on his face. Why couldn't he open up to you.

"JD, I know you're not alright, something is really bothering you. Why do you feel like you need to be perfect all the time? Even when your body doesn't even have the strength to begin with?" His jaw slacked a little at your forwardness, but he then clenched his jaw and darted his eyes away from yours. "Please, don't shut me out like this. You do this every time." He squeezed his eyes shut. He hated being confronted like that. He knew you, and he knew you would keep trying for an answer. He didn't have an escape from you. He let out a very shaky and slow sigh. There was no going back for him.

"My brothers, they all said I never changed. I mean, we almost didn't even save Floyd because of it." He shook his head disappointedly to himself and balled his hands into fists. "I'm the oldest brother, the leader, it was predetermined for me to be this way! And everybody has something to say about me! Why! They can't see the work I put into everything I do to be perfect! My brothers can't see that either." He frowned a lot, and his ears drooped downwards in disappointment, vulnerability, and freight. "I have to be this way, for everybody's sake. My own sake. This is what John Dory is. This is what I was made for. I was made to carry the responsibility. What else could I have been possibly brought here for?"

You immediately reached over and put your hand on top of his before he could even mutter another word out from his lips.

"JD, you.. you are so smart, strong, talented, and it kills me that you can't see that in yourself. So what if your brothers are right? There's nothing wrong with that. It's something different when you don't feel like you deserve that kind of commitment from people, even your own brothers, because you're too good for it. They say those things, and bring up a lot of the past because they care for you, and they really do love you. You can't change the choices you made when you were a teenager, but you can decide how that will build your character in this moment." John Dory stared at your hand slowly intertwining with his, you could see the tears in his glistening eyes. You could see the vulnerable, younger, and even current John Dory in his eyes. You could feel the fear, worry, responsibilities, and faults he made; and how much it absolutely eats him up and keeps him hostage in his own mind.

"(Y/N), where is this all coming from? Why?-"

"I've always felt this way, JD. When I got to know you and your brothers while we were journeying to Mount Rageous, I realized that.. nobody really hardly ever gives you enough credit for the things you deal with alone. Your brothers' own experiences with you are valid, but, I see the work you're putting into making sure you're still needed here, as a big brother, and.. as the man I'm in love with." You feel your heart shoot itself into your throat before sinking straight down to your stomach.

John Dory's eyes immediately widened, as his shoulders and back tensed up. You could sense the change of mood in him, and there was no way he was going to run away from his problems now like this. You tightened your grip on his hand and leaned towards him, putting your lips against his tense ones. It felt like time had completely frozen, but the world was still spinning as you felt John Dory's lips move and lean into the kiss more and his calloused gloved hand cup your cheek shakily. He then pulled you as close as he humanly possibly could with his arms wrapped around your waist. You could feel the passion behind his lips, and body language, along with the tears going down his tired cheeks. He pulled away from your lips slowly, and immediately slid his goggles off his face, tossing them aside to the ground and starts pressing his forehead against yours, letting the tears fall down from his cheeks.

"(Y/N).. thank you. Thank you so much."

"You don't need to thank me for that, JD. It's true. Everything that I said was and is true. I will stand behind it every single second of every day. I promise you that." His eyes stared at you lovingly as a soft smile spread across his face showing the slight wrinkles and crows feet that peek from his eyes and mouth.

"Oh, uh, here, you must be cold." He took off his fur coat and wrapped it around your figure. "We've been out here for a while now." You nodded and proceeded to stand up from the log, holding your hand out. "Let's go warm up inside Rhonda." John Dory nodded as he took your delicate hand in his rather large and tough hand. He smiled lovingly at you as he guided you back to Rhonda, who still kept her engine on and the inside very warm for you two.

You adjusted the couch cushions and made room for you and John Dory to spoon together, him being the little spoon tonight while you wrapped your arms around his torso.

"I love you, (Y/N)" You smiled lovingly to yourself as you squeezed him softly. "I've waited a long time to hear those words from you, John Dory." "Oops, sorry." He laughed playfully and nervously as he rubbed and massaged your knuckles with his thumb.

You pressed the side of your head against John Dory's shoulders, listening to the calmness and relaxation of his body. This may have been the only time he's ever been this way, for anybody, even himself.

But who knew that with the cards he was dealt with in life would be the turnaround point of his character, and even your own freshly started relationship with him; And you would be there every step of the way. That meant through the days he is the happiest with himself for being a good leader, and through the days where he would question his entire purpose with trying to maintain the perfect harmony, the perfect family and if that was really all there was in this world.

He knows now that's not true, and he can once in his life relax and be comfortable with himself, regardless of the past life he made.

He can finally start living his new life, with you and his real, true, full family.

[ickadori]

Ahhhhh bae u popped off with the sukuna smut 😭 u returned and with a vengeance bc OMG. My stomach dropped when he said the baby part, and pretending to delete her essay, hes sooooo mean istg i have never been wetter. Im gonna be thinking about THIS sukuna for the next few days bc hes so yummyyyyyyy. The kind of yummy u daydream abt and cant even think of anything bc HOW did u characterize him like that?!?!?! Im obsessed, stuuuupid obsessed with him- also her being yuuji's girl is insane IDC i would fold so bad for him hehsksksk like pretend to be drunk and go into the 'wrong bedroom' and wake him up with the messiest head ughhhhhh

Choso's bbg anon (tho i might have to change my name soon 🤧)

cws for reader being a dirtball (infidelity). dubcon oral (sukuna is sleeping but wakes up and is into it). degradation. brief mention of drugs (weed).

choso bbg anon heyyyu!!!!!! hehe how are you :3 i’m glad you liked that sukuna thing 😭 im trying to get back into the groove of writing before working on the stuff i abandoned iskdkd

-

You were drunk, but you weren’t that drunk.

You had been in Yuji and Sukuna’s shared apartment many times, and you had the placed mapped out clearly in your mind. You could navigate it in your dark if needed, and yet you had found yourself in a room staunchly different from your boyfriend’s.

While Yuji’s bedroom was a bit messy, yet still appearing clean, and had posters plastered on his walls that you were slowly convincing him to replace with actual good decorative pieces — it was boyish, full of that boyish charm that had originally drawn you to him in the first place, but this one was more…mature.

The room was dark, a digital clock on the other side of the room offering a dim illumination, but you could make out the black, abstract paintings placed on the walls, the shoes neatly lined on a rack, the absence of clothes scarcely thrown about the room. It was clean, tidy, smelled faintly of cleaning chemicals and strongly of marijuana.

It most certainly was not your boyfriend’s room, and yet you still found yourself shutting the door and creeping towards his bed, plush carpet feeling like heaven underneath your feet, feet that had been confined in heels for the entirety of your girl’s night out.

After five steps your shins hit the bed, and perhaps you’re a bit drunker than you originally thought, because you go tumbling face first into the mattress with a muffled yelp followed by a flurry of giggles as you right yourself.

There’s a large lump underneath the covers, and you begin to feel over it with your hands, lips pursed and head tilted as you try to remember why you had originally come in here. Your mind is a little sloshy thanks to the cocktails your friends had practically dumped down your throat, but you can somewhat remember the tipsy conversation the lot of you had that had prompted your current actions.

It was centered around Sukuna, because of course it was, or more specifically, how fucking hot he was and if he was a good lay or not, their words, not yours. You shouldn’t have paid the conversation any attention with you being Yuji’s girlfriend (you use the term loosely - the both of you had only just started dating) and Sukuna being his brother, but you couldn’t deny that you had wondered the same thing as well.

You had caught a few risqué peeks at what he was hiding underneath his work overalls that were frequently stained with engine oil, and you couldn’t deny that it seemed to be a nice size (him and Yuji had that in common it seemed), but size didn’t always equate to performance, as you had unfortunately learned with past partners.

You come back to the present when you manage to pull Sukuna’s covers off to the side, revealing a nearly naked man underneath. The illumination from the digital clock casts a glow over him, and a pulse starts between your thighs as you taken in the hard earned muscles that’re covered in various tattoos.

You audibly swoon.

Before you can think about the consequences of your actions, both good and bad, your fingers are already tugging at the front of his boxers and pulling down to reveal a thick, erect cock. You let out a shaky breath at the sight. It’s…big. Bigger than Yuji’s by a tad - thick from base to tip. It thuds against his stomach, twitching at the contact, and you shuffle closer, saliva pooling in your mouth as you lower your head.

The scent of his body wash is strong, but you can detect a bit of his natural musk underneath it, the smell growing stronger the closer you get, and you breathe in deep as the heat emanating from his cock warms your lips.

This is bad, terrible even! You think, and yet your tongue still flicks out to lick up the underside of his shaft, lashes fluttering at the taste of him. He shifts a bit but you pay it no attention, lips closing around the thick head and suckling. His pre-cum hits your tastebuds, and you can’t help the moan that you let out, head slowly bobbing as you work more of him into your mouth.

Drool trails down the length of his shaft and wets the pink mess of curls at his groin, and you gag as you take him in further and breathe hard through your nose. Your head pulls back, cock slipping out of your mouth with a wet pop, and there’s not a thought in your mind as you quickly take him back in, tongue lapping at his leaking slit before you’re taking him into your throat.

Your panties become sticky with your slick, and you tightly press your thighs together as your head quickly bobs up and down, cock slipping further and further until your nose is nestled in his pubic hair and your eyes are squeezed shut.

You go to pull back for a much needed breath of air, only for two hands to grab ahold of the sides of your head and keep you in place. A low, tired tsk sounds, and your hole clenches around nothing as you blink your eyes open to just barely make out Sukuna’s face.

“And Yuji liked you so much,” he grinds his hips up into your face, forcing another gag from you, and his legs move so his feet are flat on the bed, hands still keeping you in place. “Even asked me what can kind of promise ring to get you.” His hands move to fist at your hair, and you wince as he pulls your head up, cock slipping from your mouth once again. You whine at the loss. “And look at you - gagging on his brother’s cock. Didn’t even have to ask.”

“Suku—”

“Shut the fuck up and keep your mouth open.” You gasp at his words, and he takes the moment to force himself back in, cockhead plunging in deep and making your hands fly up to grab ahold of muscled thighs. “That idiot always finds the sluttiest girls. The ones that think with their slutty fucking cunts and nothing else.”

His voice is near a growl as he fucks your face, a mixture of drool and pre-cum spilling down your chin as your ‘slutty fucking cunt’ clenches around nothing - oh!

Your lashes flutter shut as your muscles seize up, a muffled moan sounding past the cock lodged down your throat, and Sukuna pauses for a beat.

“Nasty bitch. You just came, didn’t you?” You don’t have the dignity to shake your head, instead squeezing your thighs together tighter as your tongue moves against his length. He grins through a dark laugh as he cants his hips down, tip of his cock nestled between your now swollen lips, before snapping them up.

“Yeah, ‘m gonna have fun with you.”

[tightjeansjavi]

The Rite of Movement | drabble

“take it off”

A/N: so yesterday I was talking to @itsokbbygrl about how Joel would react if baby love ever wore a piece of Brazzers merch around him and well…😵‍💫

~word count: 960~

Summary: Joel catches you wearing a pair of Brazzers spandex shorts 🤭

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: smut, established relationship, punishment, teasing, dom!joel, meanish!joel, possessive!joel (reader is into it) spanking, sir kink, praise kink, language, Joel calls the reader a naughty dirty little slut in a non derogatory way, Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her 30’s, readers nickname is baby love, reader has no physical descriptions (outside of having a big ass and thighs) +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

It’s laundry day, and you’re faced with an unfortunate problem on your hands. The only pair of clean shorts that you could find in your drawer happened to be a pair of black spandex shorts with a BRAZZERS decal stretching all the way across the stretched fabric. Why was this such an unfortunate dilemma you may be asking yourselves? Well, you already had a feeling that Joel was gonna lose his shit if he saw you wearing these shorts…

Fuck it, we ball!

And oh, did he lose his mind alright.

All afternoon he had been working on fixing an issue he was having with his truck, and with Tommy’s generous help after refusing to take it into the shop. No, the Miller brothers were the kings of DIY. Joel came striding into the kitchen to grab two more beers, shirtless and reeking of car oil and grease, he was frozen on the spot when he saw you bent over the sink, working through the dishes in the tightest pair of spandex shorts he had ever seen. Your cheeks and thighs were practically spilling out from under the strained fabric.

Then he saw the familiar logo that was once the bane of his existence, and his eyes narrowed into slits, grease stained fists clenching at his sides, teeth grinding together and jaw ticking.

Fuck no. Not on my watch.

His boots were heavy on the tile as he approached you and before you could even turn around, his heavy set palm was making harsh contact with one of your cheeks, smacking your ass so hard, you swore you saw stars for a second as your body lurched forward against the sink and a soft surprised yelp slipped past your lips.

“The fuck are these, baby love?” He growled against the shell of your ear, crowding over your back like a cloak made of pure cement from how hard he was pressing into you. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and the stench of car grease flooding your senses, dizzying your brain. Your covered cunt pulsed around nothing but the prospect of him punishing you just for wearing these damn shorts.

“It’s laundry day, baby. And I’m all out of clean shorts…” you let out a sigh of faux disappointment when he began to rub the plush flesh of your ass with his big meaty palm, “it’s a million degrees outside, and I found these in my back drawer and probably just never got rid of them when I moved in.”

He smacked your ass again, watching the way it recoiled against his palm, “Yeah?” He rasped, “well, baby love, they ain’t it.” He shook his head, grasping the hem of the spandex and yanked them right down your ass and thighs and all the way down to your ankles.

He dragged his hand right back down between your cheeks, spreading you open just enough that he could slip just the tip of his thumb into your already sopping tight cunt. “And you ain’t ever gonna wear them again, we clear?”

“Y-yes sir!” You squeaked out, arching your back into his hand so his thumb would slip in further.

“Good girl.” He chuffed a laugh as he retracted his hand despite your soft protests for him to continue, “Sorry I had to do that, baby love. I’ll get you a pair of mine, okay?”

You laughed it off, steeling your racing heart in your rib cage as you looked over your shoulder at him, “it’s okay, baby. You’ll just have to get me a better pair to strut around in.” You responded with a wink.

“‘Suppose I can arrange that.” He stalked off to the laundry room, grabbing you a fresh pair of his boxers and he even helped you step into them before he bent down and snatched up the Brazzers shorts and shoved them deep into the pocket of his jean cut offs. “Think Tommy and I are gonna go out for some burgers soon. Y’want anythin’, baby love?”

“Mmm, yeah I’ll take some meat.” You said with a giggle, turning around with your arms crossed against your chest in a challenging stare, “preferably the kind of meat that is shaped like your cock. Think you can deliver on that, baby?”

He closed the gap between you once more, looking even taller and broader than usual when he crowded you against the counter. His brow was cocked in amusement, lips spreading into a deep set grin. “Sorry, baby love.” He tutted softly, bringing his hand down between your thighs and pressed the heel of his palm directly against your covered cunt as he leaned in, “naughty dirty little sluts don’t get rewarded that easily.”

You leaned into his hand immediately, trying to pull him in for a kiss but he was being stubborn and nipped at your jawline instead while you let out a pathetic whine.

“Joel, baby, c’mon, please?” You nearly begged him.

“Nuh uh.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips before retreating out of your grasp.

Joel: 2 | baby love: 0

A week has gone by since the little incident and when you wake up late one morning and head downstairs to make a cup of coffee, you find a pink box on the countertop next to your mug. The box is wrapped in a pretty pink bow, and there’s a note under the ribbon addressed to you.

To my naughty little baby love,

Here’s a better pair ;)

-Joel x.

You untie the bow and lift the cover from the box and beneath the perfectly crisp wrapping paper is a pair of black spandex shorts. Upon further inspection, you find that the back of the shorts have a decal stretched across the fabric as well. However, instead of Brazzers, it reads Miller-Co in bold lettering.

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[doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou]

Protecting French Fry

Oiled Paintings (1)

> melissa schemmenti x fem!reader

> requested? maybe?

> content/warnings: mentions of violence

> a/n: this got me staring at the wall for 4 hours 😭 i rlly don't know if this can compete with the first part

Contrary to popular belief that French people were extremely rude; Mr. Morton thinks that the lone French in their school have been nothing but nice and cheerful. Unfortunately, Mrs. Microft and most of the 7th to 8th grade teachers did not share the same sentiment. Thus, leaving them to tolerate the rude welcome and treatment of the senior teacher towards you, and that went on for the whole five years you’ve been in Abbott.

“Good morning, Mrs. Microft!” You greeted the senior teacher with a smile. And although she paid no attention to your presence and your greeting, you maintained your composure and left your lunch inside the fridge, then went on with your day.

Yet, when you came back to the lounge for lunch, you found no remnants of your lunch; even the container was gone. Deciding to let this slide, like the other mistreatment you got from the senior teacher, you sighed and took your purse to eat lunch at the coffee shop near the school.

“Damn, Y/N. That is wild; I didn’t think white racism would be prominent here; guess I was wrong.” Ava gave you a pat on the back while sipping her coffee. “This coffee is also wild! Y’all gotta try this new coffee maker I got for the school!”

Barbara and Melissa gave Ava a look before giving you sympathetic glances. This made you roll your eyes at Ava. “Stop looking at me like that; that was about three years ago.”

“If y’all ever want to plot revenge, I got her address somewhere in my office. I ain’t helping you look though,” said Ava, leaving all of you to think for reasons you haven’t reported her to HR yet.

“I’m just glad she left; with no one to torment me now, maybe the other teachers will also treat me like a colleague.” You straightened your posture and gave a clap. The smile on your face was so contagious, it took Melissa turning her back to you and looking at Barb to hide her smile.

“Doubt that.” Mr. Morton always knew when to rain on your parade. His comment made Melissa’s face turn serious.

“And why’s that, huh? Y’know any more teachers that’ll torment French fry here?” Melissa tilted her head towards you while still looking at Mr. Morton. While the protectiveness was appreciated, you couldn’t help but blush at the nickname that the redheaded teacher gave you. Ever since knowing that you were French, the Italian made it her daily routine to criticize your lunch, whether it was homemade or a takeout from the local French restaurant.

Sitting down on the nearest chair, Mr. Morton nodded and opened his lesson plan. “That girl, new hire, Charity Microft.”

The hand supporting your face fell on the table with a bang, making Melissa and Barbara look at you incredulously. With your eyes as wide as saucers, you gave Mr. Morton a horrified look. “What do you mean, Charity Microft? As in, Charity Microft the girl I talked to you about? Or Charity Microft the successor of Mrs. Microft the she-devil?”

“Both.” Letting out a cry, you hid your face from your ‘friends’ if you could call them that and huffed.

Janine, the ever-caring human that she is, caressed your back for a solid second before she saw Melissa giving her a glare, making her pull her hand away from you and whisper something to Jacob. Whatever Janine said, it made Jacob choke in fear when he glanced in Melissa’s direction.

As Barbara was about to say something to Melissa, the bell rang, making the kindergarten teacher sigh and give Melissa a look that said. ‘We’ll talk later’.

Nodding her head, Melissa stood up and pulled your arm. "C'mon, French fry, let’s get you to your classroom. We’ll talk later.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your ‘talk’ didn’t happen. In fact, Melissa left before you and Barb could even catch her. She only saw Ava before leaving with a grin.

“What do you mean she left flexing her arm?”

Sighing, Ava dropped her foot from the table and leaned forward. “Look, I ain’t snitching why she left that way or why she went here before leaving.”

Huffing, you crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow. “And why is that, Ava?”

“She’ll beat my ass,” Ava said before shooing both of you out of her office.

Pursing her lips, Barbara turned to you and gave you a pat on the shoulder. “Now, I need to leave. My Gerald and I have a schedule at that French place you told us about. But after that, I’ll try to get a hold of Melissa, and then I’ll call you to tell you what I gathered.” Then she left, leaving you to contemplate whether to call Melissa on your own or wait until tomorrow. You decided on the latter.

Groaning, you stomped towards your Harley-Davidson Pan America 1250. Your mother harbored great disdain for your choice of vehicle, and your father was extremely happy when you told him you bought a bike rather than a car. He even went all out to message you every detail about riding motorcycles in America and how it differed from riding a motorcycle in France.

As you drove our normal route, you thought you saw Melissa’s car parked on the street a block away from you, but you shook your head and thought there was no way she lived that close to you. Parking your vehicle in front of your house, you jumped repeatedly, a tradition you caught on to because of your father back in France. Your father told you that jumping just outside your home left the awful things that latched onto you that day outside.

Stepping inside your house, you were greeted by your cat purring around your leg and nipping your toes to get your attention. Laughing, you gave your cat a pat on the head. “Okay, okay. Mommy’s going to give you treats once she gets out of these uncomfortable clothes.”

But you didn’t get to change your work clothes. A knock souned through your house walls before you could walk into your room. "Oh, come on!” You stomped towards the door and pulled it open. “What do you want?”

“Hey hon,” said a redheaded woman holding a baseball bat covered in shards of glass and red paint. What you hoped was red paint.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Eros: Chapter Three

Eros: Married to Dream of the Endless, you find yourself sent back in time to Ancient Greece where you, unfortunately, meet Oneiros. Fresh off a divorce and drowning the sorrows of his son’s death by indulging in the Panathenaia, you find yourself trapped beneath the lustful gaze of your future husband. In your defense, he seduced you first…

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Material. 

To Note: Morpheus x Wife!Reader, Time Travel, Oneiros is used for AncientGreek!Morpheus.

Word Count: ~2.9k

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You’d stayed behind as the girls headed off to enjoy some time with the men who had charmed them. Most of the festivities had moved to the Parthenon, so you were surrounded by quietness and the sounds of waves. Finding yourself among halls that were usually filled with chattering people, beautiful people, you found yourself missing the Dreaming and your friends there. You needed a drink. 

Striding to a table with a jug of wine, you poured yourself a health cup before guzzling it in one go. The alcohol wouldn’t go to your head, you could drink all the wine in Greece and you wouldn’t get drunk. A sobering thought. There was nothing to take the edge off your emotions. Just as you poured your second cup, you felt his presence behind you.

“You are still missing the festivities, my lord,” You softly spoke, putting the jug of wine to the side. Then you turned around, only to find Oneiros standing directly behind you, now in front of you. He stared down at you, amusement in his eyes. 

“And still you think you know myself better than I,” 

“Have you considered the possibility that I might?” You challenged. His eyes flashed a silver glow.

“You dare—” Your hands raised to cradle his face, cutting the Endless off. From your heavenly touch or from the look in your eyes, the Endless didn’t know what had caused him to abruptly hold his tongue. 

“I do, because you are hurting,” you said straight to his face, your fingers lightly stroking his jaw line. “You are hurting, and you are angry, but you haven’t let those emotions out. It’s festering.” 

“And what do you propose I do, since you think to tell me what I feel?” Oneiros coldly questioned, already very much in love with your fleeting touch. Yet you were testing his tolerance in this moment.

“If you are so bold, tell me what will remedy my troubles.” 

“Take all your anger and pain out on me," you offered with a glimmer within your eyes. Surely that would take some of the stress off, even from yourself. It wasn’t like you were cheating on your husband, since he was your husband… you just hadn’t married him yet… he’d also been relentlessly seducing you. This wouldn’t entirely be on you. “It’d be a shame for me to miss out on the true delights of this festival, yes?” The glow within Oneiros’ eyes shifted from warning to lustful, and you caressed his cheek once more, slowly withdrawing the touch he so craved. “Or do you wish to resume your sulking—” You were cut off the moment Oneiros moved, the Endless lunging forward to press you back against the table behind you. Caught off guard, your hand came dangerously close to spilling the jug of wine and only narrowly missed smashing your cup. Hovering over you, Oneiros stared down into your face intently, his fingers dangerously close to pulling the pins from your shoulders. 

“I doubt you are prepared for the entirety of my desires,” he informed you, his eyes drinking in the way your hair settled around you. Between the silk fabric draped around your body to reveal your delicious curves and the scent of oils wafting from your skin, Oneiros was barely holding himself back. The moment he had with you alone in the bathhouse had tortured his mind since you left him hard and wanting. You lay perfectly still beneath him, though the Endless standing between your legs made your body ache. 

“You seem rather confident with your words.” You said breathlessly. 

“You have given me permission to use you.” Oneiros spoke to you, his face slowly drawing closer and closer. “I would tread with caution, little one.” Caution? Says the being that had been relentlessly pursuing you for nearly a week. 

“And I’m waiting,” You were either a very brave human, or entirely foolish to instigate an Endless… but nonetheless, Oneiros could no longer hold himself back and dove in. A hand burrowed into your mess of hair and pulled your head back, exposing your neck and lifting your lips to his every whim and desire. The moment his cold lips roughly pressed against yours, you let out a whimper. You missed the intimacy of simply kissing your husband, and it had only been a week since you ended up there. This Morpheus might not be yours, but he was close enough. 

He, of course, feasted on that precious sound from your lips. He ravaged your lips with a ferocity you’d never experienced with him before but were entirely delighted to receive. Urgent. Passionate. Unrestrained. There was nothing that Oneiros held back from you. He devoured you, indulging in the softness of your lips, tasted the wine that lingered from your drink only a minute prior, and all too easily convinced your lips to part. 

Lips parted and stardust exploded within you, sparking a desperation that only had you kissing back harder. His tongue teased your lower lip, blooming pleasure, before pushing deeper to capture your own. Your true taste was sweet, sweeter than what he’d imagined while you slept at night, sheltered from his desire by nothing but the sheet that covered your body. How many nights had he simply watched rather than take? To many he’d spent in the shadows of your room rather than indulging in others. This night wouldn’t be yet another. 

When you lifted a hand to slip your fingers into that messy hair you were dying to run your fingers through, the Endless snatched your wrist and roughly pressed it against the tabletop. Then a subtle sting flickered across your lower lip in warning as bright blue flashed silver. His lips left yours, straying only a few millimeters, as his sharp gaze left you feeling frozen in place. Your Morpheus was never opposed to you running your fingers through his hair, he actually liked it. He pretty much melted beneath your touches when you did so. Did Oneiros not like that? Had you messed up already?

“Your boldness appears to have no bounds,” Oneiros darkly purred, the coolness of his skin momentarily bewitching you from response. No words were capable of forming on your tongue, rendering you silent. Not that you were capable of speaking, your tongue was still electrified from his deep and intimate kisses. “Oh? Now you find yourself without words, λατρεία μου?” (My adored)

Your inner thighs unconsciously clenched, and the Endless felt it, along with the shiver that wound its way up your spine. His lips twisted into a smirk, and releasing the wrist he still held, his touch found your chin, where he pressed his thumb against the very lips he had only moments before been scalding in possessive claim. Oneiros could hear the way your heart raced within your heaving chest, and that pleased him… almost to the point of dropping to his knees to sate his burning desire to find out if you were indeed as delicious as you had looked in that bath. But right now, arousal and need burned so viciously between you that it was doubtful that Oneiros would be going anywhere but within you. He was not, however, so cruel as to cause you pain in his haste. 

So a hand snaked down your lush body, following along your curve before blatantly ripping the fabric of your dress. You gasped as your body jolted, and the night air touched your previously covered skin. Then Oneiros’ fingers slipped between your trembling legs to brush against your shamefully wet cunt. Fire blazed across your face as a black eyebrow arched. No wonder your addicting smell of arousal was driving him insane, you were nearly dripping. 

“A pity you kept yourself at bay,” he drew out, his voice nearly making you flop in a faint. AKA: We could have been fucking sooner if you hadn’t been ignoring me. You were definitely going to pay. The Endless gave you no more words as his fingers plunged in and out of your body for a few moments, enjoying the way you reacted to a touch as insignificant as this. He enjoyed the way you squirmed, shuddered, and whimpered just from the simple touch. Yet it was far from simple for you. You had what felt like fire streaking through your cunt in an almost unbearable, painful need. But this wasn’t about you. You had to remind yourself about that. So you gripped his bare shoulder and softly whimpered your way through his almost vindictive fingers. 

Perhaps you pushed a few too many buttons over the last week. 

Your chest thrust upwards as your back arched off the table, presenting your plump breasts toward Oneiros. His eyes glowed silver briefly, already feasting off the mere sight of your pleasure. He quickly lowered his mouth to your exposed skin and hungrily pressed his mouth against your milky, soft flesh. His lips were more than ravenous against your untouched flesh, and the Endless devoured every little millimeter with sexual hunger that starved off the deep ache within his guarded heart. 

A ragged litany of strained moans departed your lips as fingers skillfully worked your body towards pleasure, and you couldn’t help but thrust your hips up, burying his fingers further into your throbbing flesh. Silver glowed within deep blue, and Oneiros drew his teeth across the exposed curve of your breast. It was still not enough. He released your chin and tore at the pins holding the cloth against your body, effortlessly lifting you up to sweep the fabric far away from your body so he could see all of your beauty. 

Lost in the waves of bliss that Oneiros was all too easily drawing from your body, you barely noticed your naked state. Eyes fluttering and panting out harsh breaths, you clung to the Dream Lord as the crescendo of what was to be your first of an endless number of orgasms shattered the quiet night. Your cry was nothing short of angelic, and the violent tremors that overtook your shuddering frame were entirely delicious to watch as you came undone around Oneiros’ fingers. He watched with a smug smirk upon his lips as your fingers fell limp against his tunic and your body sagged against the table, a soft moan departing lips he couldn’t wait to see wrapped around his cock. That would have to wait for now. 

As you lay in a daze from the high of pleasure Oneiros had so easily drawn from your body in short order, the Endless wasted no time ridding himself of his tunic and drawing his aching cock against your moisture laden cunt. Hot and wet, you already felt divine and he wasn’t even in you! Oneiros rut his hips against yours, basking in the feeling of your soft body beneath his and shuddering at the friction his cock felt brushing through your cunt. 

You regained enough composure to strengthen your grasp upon his now bare body, quivering and whimpering at having him so close to you once more. But he still wasn’t in you. One last soft plea escaped your lips in a hoarse echo. 

“Please…” Your barely audible whimper was a crescendo to his ears. Gazing deeply into your eyes, Oneiros held that contact through pushing his cock against your soaked cunt and drank in the way your eyes rolled when he sank into your lush body. You were shuddering and trying to breathe while the lusty gaze of Oneiros all but devoured your body. You hadn’t taken into account what it would be like to actually act upon your own desires. Were you cheating on Morpheus by allowing Oneiros to take you like this? 

You gasped the moment Oneiros bottomed out within you, and for a few moments, your entire body clenched as your heart stopped in your chest. No one had been this intimate with you since you started dating Morpheus—no one but Morpheus. But this was Morpheus. You couldn’t cheat on an Endless with themself. So you sucked in a new breath of air and pressed your hand against the side of Oneiros’ face, your fingers slowly sliding into his messy hair. You had planned on dragging his lips back to yours, but the Endless himself beat you to it. He mashed his hungry lips back to yours in seconds, urging your lips to part so he could drink the taste of wine straight from your tongue. It was delectably sweet and rivaled even the finest of drink the gods could offer. 

Moaning as the encompassing presence of Oneiros all but consumed you in body and mind, you dug your nails into his scalp while pulling him against you. Oneiros gripped the edge of the table and moved his other hand from your chin to grasp your hip. The last week had been torture for the endless, and he wasted no time pulling his hips back so he could sink right back into your tantalizing body. You lost the ability to think, let alone respond to his demanding mouth, the moment he began to ravenously consume your body inside out. 

Panting through the throes of intense pleasure, you closed your eyes and let your head drop back as only the most beautiful of sounds slipped from your lips in hushed whimpers and moans. Oh, the mortification you’d feel if someone walked in on Oneiros railing your brains out! Only the endless took your efforts to remain quiet as insult and tightened his grip upon your body. Fingers dug into your sides as his punishing mouth dropped to your extended neck, and he all but sank his teeth into your flesh. You yelped so deliciously, so indulgently, that he did it again just to hear that sound once more. 

Your lips parted with a symphonic cry, and you squirmed in place, one of your legs hiking over his hip as you dug your heel into his hamstring. As your mind grappled with a touch so familiar yet foreign, Oneiros’ hand began exploring your body. Your body was soft, womanly, and ripe for loving. Whoever had claimed your hand was surely missing out because Oneiros’ knew it would be days before he had his fill of you. If that were even possible. Moving his lips further down your neck, Oneiros allowed his mouth to hover over your flushed skin while he watched your breasts heave. A temptation beckoning to him. 

You cried out again, fingers clenching within obsidian locks, when his mouth sealed over one of your nipples. He teased you with his tongue, igniting ripples of pleasure from your breast that only exacerbated the overwhelming ecstasy throbbing between your legs. Even with his attention clearly on your breast, devouring it like it was the best damn thing he’d ever put in his mouth, Oneiros never once let you forget that his cock was merely moments away from unraveling you to the point of corruption. 

Morpheus had never fucked you like this. Well, you were certain that he’d never fucked you, period! Your husband worshipped the ground you walked on and made love to you beneath the stars with only the gentlest of touches that made you bloom with ecstasy and love. It had been all you’d known. All you experienced. Not this ravenous, predatory endless that lacked bounds of control when it came to you and your body. Your cunt clenched fiercely around his cock, and the muscles in your thighs and abdomen spasming. This time you made a strangled keen, your body shaking with pleasure that threatened to consume you as well. 

“Gods,” you rasped hoarsely, your entire body buzzing with wildfire. Oneiros released your breast and raised his eyes to your deeply flushed and pleasure filled face. 

“There are no gods here, λατρεία μου,” (My adored) Oneiros rumbled, his eyes sparking with intense silver energy. “They are not privy to the sound or sight of your pleasure, I am,” His cock was now hitting all the best places within your clenching cunt to spiral your pleasure to the cusp of orgasm. Yet something held it at bay, keeping you squirming and clawing at the endless with tears in your eyes. You had been surely taunting him this past week, but he was feeling rather pleased with how divine you were, body and soul. So he’d let you have this one. “Come for me, now.”      

Oh boy, did your body respond to that demand.        

The choking, strangled sound you made caught in your throat the moment your body obediently obeyed the endless. Your cunt clenched and rippled around his throbbing cock, squeezing him int he most delicious way while you trembled and quaked within his grip. Nails clawing at what they could, you found yourself caught in a mother of all orgasms that swept away your senses in a whiteout. Your body went limp and your eyelashes fluttered.

Oneiros could feel your conscious hover between this realm and his own as your body lay draped within his arms, limp and spent. Ambrosial and addicting. He hadn’t taken his own pleasure, his need to see you come undone beneath him having long since eaten away at the fringes of his being until it was all he could think about. He’d only just had a taste of you, a nibble even, and he already knew that he was going to take his time indulging. You were truly what he wanted, what he needed. So as he carried you towards the rooms he was inhabiting, your body carefully bundled up in the discarded fabric of your peplum, Oneiros thought of every way he planned on indulging in that which you had offered. 

Date Published: 2/15/24

Last Edit: 2/15/24

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[2knightt]

「 you the cutest jailbird i ever did see!」

IN WHICH—you’re literally mickey milkovich!♡ ໋֢ 👒✧

🍵ヾFT. THE GREASERS࿐ྀུ ♡

⌗ 👒 notes !𖥔༌ ᰷ ﹅ this is platonic. and if you haven’t seen shameless just imagine a modern, stinky dallas. also MARRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS!!!

you met them while running from the cops. sure—it was completely your fault and you do deserve to be thrown into the cooler. but you just got out! can’t a person want just a few more minutes of peace?

as soon as you heard those sirens, you jumped off the guys you and your cousins were jumping and just started running. those two idiots already got caught, you just kept on running.

you heard that the curtis house doesn’t ever lock their door—stupid. you’d never do that, not when people like you run around this city!

the sirens got closer, and without thinking, you jumped their fence. as your feet touched the ground, you hoped to god that they weren’t home. or that dallas winston wasn’t there.

you rushed to the door, swinging in open before hiding beside their couch that sat in front of the window. peeking your head up, you watched as the cop car slowed down before speeding back off.

a grin grew on your face as you watched the cops go in the other direction.

“fuckin’ idiots.”

“wow, y/n getting chased by the cops. what is it, the 30th time this week?”

you’ve had unfortunate run-ins with dallas. but you thought his voice was more annoying now than when you and your cousins jumped him for trying to hit on your sister.

you’d recognize that disgusting new york accent from anywhere. you sighed, turning your head to face him as he stood above you, hands in his jean pockets.

dallas had a stupid grin on his face as who, you think is soda, comes rushing beside him. his eyes showed worry, but his grin made him look interested in you.

“shoot, what happened to you?”

“soda—this is y/n. what ain’t they done is a better question.”

you rolled your eyes, holding back from socking him in the jaw. you turned your head to face soda, standing up from your position. rubbing your neck, you hung your head low.

“tough shit, man. bunch of assholes—you know.”

suddenly, someone with cake smeared all over his fingers and who smelled like oil popped up out of nowhere. ‘steve’ was written on the chest of his ripped up work uniform.

“that can mean a lotta things. what kinda tough shit?”

‘jesus, the curtis group asks a lot of questions.’ you thought to yourself, a lip raised. dallas kicked the leg of the couch beside you, causing you to whip your head up after avoiding eye contact. sodapop smacked dallas’ shoulder, telling him off.

“answer ‘em, y/n.”

dallas demanded, saying your name is a singing tone.

“…me and my cousin’s has jumped a guy. it ain’t nothin’ bad like stabbing a kid with a blade.”

you mumbled, dusting yourself off, you heard snickers leave steve and soda’s throats. soda grinned, ear to ear as he ushered you to sit down at a table. as he did so—he kept on asking you a bunch of jumbled questions due to how fast he’s talking.

four boys sat there, staring at the situation that had just unfolded. they both looked younger than everyone else did, the two older ones standing out like sore thumbs. one was finishing his plate, the other one downing a bottle of beer.

soda sat you down, steve rushing behind the both of you. either of them sat beside you, smiles on their face.

“what’d the guy do?”

“did you beat ‘em black and blue?”

“what’d you use?”

with that, you found yourself hanging around the two of them more. sodapop and steve found your company fun. sure, you were like dallas, but different in so many ways.

you were so comforting to be around, yet you always had a scowl. they loved having you around, causing the gang to hang out with you too.

you honestly became a reoccurring person in the gang—to the point where people would ask where you were if you weren’t around them.

you’d just walk into the curtis house and make yourself comfortable. your house wasn’t exactly the definition of ‘ideal.’ the old man wasn’t the kindest to you, your sister—or anyone for that matter.

he’d frequently take his anger out on you and smack you ‘til you’re every colour under the sun after he heard you’d been foolin’ around with some chum around the block. it wasn’t even true—but your cries always fell to deaf ears when it came to that alcoholic.

it’s not like it was a secret either. every person on the east side could hear the arguing from your house—even the front door slam shut. that’s when the people would know you’d be huddled up on the curtis’ couch.

“y/n—breakfast.”

soda’d nudge you gently—talking in a hushed voice. the smell of bacon filled your nostrils, a sigh leaving your lips as it hit you that he was the one cooking. you aren’t exactly the biggest fan of his rather odd choices of how he makes his food.

but goddamnit you can fake it for him. if you can lie to the cops, you can lie to one of your greatest friends.

just like how you can lie to the investigators trying to find dallas winston.

“you know this kid?”

“never seen ‘em in my life. lay off now, assholes.”

you’d mumble, walking past them, making sure you hit their shoulders as hard as you could. you always got a kick out of hurting those pigs as you’d call ‘em.

which is what caused dallas winston goin’ MIA. you had seen dallas winston getting knocked down by the police after a long chase.

even though you can’t stand that new yorkian—you do love fighting. you tried to walk as quietly as you could up to them before making yourself known.

“hey, man!”

you shouted, causing their heads to turn. when they saw you—their eyes immediately flashed a look of hatred. they obviously knew who you were, and if they didn’t know, they’d know after you socked one in the jaw.

all attention on dallas turned to you—all of them going after you. until dallas also landed a clean hit on one. with the impact of the officer falling on the ground—your feet started moving on your own.

you cackled, hearing dallas laugh along with you, running beside you. the rush that washed over you two was indescribable—the adrenaline was great.

this isn’t the first time you’ve been on the run, and it’s not like you haven’t been caught. one time you got caught—your bail was low. but too high for you. you were offered one call and the first person that came to mind would surely rip off your head.

‘worth a shot,’ you thought to yourself, dialling the numbers with the phone to your ear, a cop hovering over you.

“hello?”

“darrel? it’s y/n.”

“goddammit, y/n. what the hell did you do this time?”

“nothin’! i-i just need you to come and bail me. it’s only 50 cents, darry.”

“you’re never gonna hear the end of it, you damned jail bird. i’ll be there soon.”

with that—you heard a click on the end of the line. you wanted to defend yourself, but hearing him call you a jail bird gave you more pride than you’ve felt in a long time.

of course, when he did bail you out, any feeling you had of pride evaporated. as soon as you entered the backseat, you could feel the rage from darry.

“what the hell did you do? it’s 11PM. ponyboy and soda’s in bed—and i was getting ready! 11PM, y/n!”

“holy fuck, darry! stop acting like i killed a guy! it was just a grab n’ run!”

“y/n—is it too hard to ask that you try to stay safe? just once, that’s all i ask!”

“oh my god, darry! you aren’t my fucking father!”

“guess what’s happening. you’re coming to my house and spending the nights there. the second i hear that you’re runnin’ from the cops i’m contesting against you in court!”

the rest of the ride was in silence, it being broken up by the occasional blinker. when he pulled onto the side of the road, parking his truck in front of the house, you sat there.

stubborn is what people thought of you—and you sure as hell were. darry got out, expecting you to follow. he stood in front of the gate, arms crossed as you stared off into space.

the door opened—darry quickly grabbing you. he carried you like a baby, against your very loud protests.

soda opened the door, snickering as he sees the situation you’re in. ponyboy was sitting on darrys chair, playing with the tab of a pepsi can. once he seen darry step in, you in arms, he shot up from where he sat.

“where were you? what happened?”

“yeah, jail bird. what happened?”

you heard the two younger brothers ask, one sounding more mocking than the other. darry placed you on the couch, swiftly throwing a blanket over you.

you’d been in this situation before, the memories flooding back to you as you felt yourself drift off into sleep.

expect you weren’t the one being carried. you had carried johnny from the lot, put him on your back. it was a few days after he’d been jumped real bad.

you were out of the loop when it came to who jumped who. you seen johnny asleep in the lot. dried blood on his jacket and face. bruises were everywhere on his body. you felt bad.

you always liked johnnycakes. he understood you in a way. as you carried him on your back—you could only thing of the similarities between you two.

you both had rough home lives, you both always found yourself trying to keep everything together. he used to be so tough but turned quiet—you had always been tough and never expected to change.

lost in your thoughts—you got to the curtis house faster than expected. you quietly walked up the stairs, opening the door, avoiding the creaky floorboards.

you placed johnny on the couch, taking a silent vow to beat whoever did this to him even worse.

and you always kept your word.

robert sheldon was the guy you and your cousins had tracked down, bats and other weapons in hand. if he can use those thick gold rings—you can use your bat. fair game, right?

you caught him, drunk on the streets, and stupidly alone. your cousins beat up ford slowed down beside him—making it a repeat of what he’d do to others.

he took notice—stumbling as he turned his head. your own small gang took notice to this, stopping the car before jumping out.

you guys had beaten him to the point where he looked just like johnny. you kept your word, and you wouldn’t let anyone ever touch johnny like that.

you always hated soc’s. you’d do anything to do annoy ‘em. even if it meant stealing their mustangs, you always liked them anyhow.

steve always talked about how he’d do anything to drive a tuff car like that. everytime he seen one, that’s all he talked about.

“imagine drivin’ a car like that. could you imagine how fast i could go?”

you’d learn how to hot wire at a young age, rarely ever did it though. but when you seen a wine coloured mustang left unattended—you knew you had an opportunity.

it wasn’t hard to get it going, and it wasn’t hard to drive it to the DX without getting caught. steve was working in the hood of an old car outside until he heard a honk.

a grin grew on his face as he seen you in the drivers sear of the car, a smug look on your face. steve practically skipped as he rushed towards the vehicle, tapping the hood as he took a closer look.

as he was nothing less than mesmerized—you hopped out of the car. steve looked up at you from his crouched position before you threw the keys at him, walking towards the passenger seat.

steve immediately put two and two together, jumping into the car without a second thought.

you swore you ain’t never seen steve so happy when he was speeding down the road in this mustang. he never asked where you got it—and you never told him.

you and ponyboy were alright. he didn’t like being around you for long periods of time. on the other hand—you absolutely loved it.

you could tease him until the sun went down for everything and anything.

“what the hell are you wearin’, pony?”

“a shirt?”

“sure as hell don’t look like one.”

you’d ruffle his greased up hair, going against his complains. you’d mock his books and movies, mimicking what they just said in a higher voice. ponyboy always disliked this. he didn’t hate it however. a small part of him knew that’s how you showed affection.

but he never knew you could be so gentle when you felt like it—that he really, really liked. one day, when school was out and everyone was doing their own thing, ponyboy sat at home.

he was reading a book with the tv as background noise. until you barged through the door, beelining for the fridge. you got a beer, closing the door. you took a sear in darry’s chair, watching TV.

ponyboy wondered if you noticed he was even home. when he seen you enter—he felt insecure. you were the definition of a greaser—he was…just some guy that so happened to have grease in his hair.

you realized he stopped reading, his eyes everywhere but his book. sighing, you got up and sat beside him on the couch. you took one more swig of the beer before you told him to read out loud.

“read to me.”

“wh-huh?”

“the TV’s borin’. read.”

with that, he did. the longer ponyboy read, the more relaxed he became. of course—you looked like you wanted to rip your own head off—but ponyboy did like the fact you immersed yourself into the story.

“she fucking what?”

“yeah! crazy, right?”

“crazy’s an understatement, man.”

‘crazy’ is what people would call you and two-bit. people would’ve never willingly put the two of you in a room, but you two got along swimmingly.

he was loud, sometimes clingy, and always joking around. you really needed someone like him in your life. a breath of fresh air—until the two of you would compete.

“let’s see who can steal the most stuff without gettin’ caught.”

was a sentence often said between the two of you. a little fun never hurt nobody, right? two-bit seemed like the expert at stealing, and you just liked to break the law.

the longest it went on was for a week. you tot caught first and you have yet to live it down.

“so god fuckin’ help me—i will gauge your eyeballs out with this fucking fork!”

“yeah but, i’ll die knowin’ that i was able to steal without gettin’ BANNED!”

two-bit later had a bruise on his ribs.

you’ve never been one to stay in a group of people. but staying with these people—it was different in so many ways.

you knew they wanted you here, they knew you loved them and that you knew that they loved you too. and unfamiliar feeling sure—but a welcomed feeling.

you argued, fought, and even fist fought each other. but goddamnit, you all moved past it. and that’s all you could ask for in this little life. even if your life is mostly you sitting in a prison.

[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.