ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

You said it so simply, as if you were ignoring the details of what happened earlier that clearly contradicted your “it's just milk”. 

The moment the third period came to an end, Senku dragged you out of class without saying anything. You had grown used to it, hence you let him tug on your wrist softly without asking questions. 

He guided you swiftly through the bustling hallway. The two of you reached his locker, and before you could peek to check what he was reaching out for, he handed you a small milk carton. It was still cold.

He clicked the roof of his tongue out of annoyance. “Your glucose levels crashed halfway through the third period. How many times do I have to tell you not to skip breakfast?” 

You gave him a cheeky smile, already familiar with the gesture. “Thanks, Sen. I woke up late again, okay?” 

Behind the two of you, Taiju and Yuzuriha watched the interaction. Both were clearly shocked, however, for two completely different reasons. 

Taiju aggressively pointed at the milk carton in your hands, “Senku! How did you keep it cold?!” 

“Insulated water bottle and ice. She won't drink it unless it's cold.” He said so casually while reading something on his phone. 

Yuzuriha, however, wasn't curious about the science behind the cold milk carton. No, she was curious about the scientific explanation as to why you acted as if this was normal. How Senku acted as if this was normal. 

“Was that really normal? I don't think it was…” she asked when it was just the two of you; her voice remained soft and polite. 

Senku had made his way to the science laboratory while Taiju was eager to see another fascinating experiment of his. 

You hummed, “Yeah, that's just how Senku has always been. I call it his acts of science. He says it's to keep me efficient.” 

Senku always did things like that. He had a knack with his small gestures, weaving them into the fabric of your daily life.

It wasn't strange or new to you. Not really. Not when he's been consistently doing it for years. 

⋆⭒˚.⋆

You constantly complain about headaches almost every afternoon, especially during study sessions. Muttered complaints fell from your lips easily, and rubbing your temples became a habit. 

“You're dehydrated.” You heard him say from across you while working with a circuit board, one that was too complex for you to understand. It wasn't a question; it sounded like a statement from his observation.

You lift your head up, tired eyes meeting his striking red ones. With a weak smile, you muttered out, “Thanks for the diagnosis, doc.”

“Tch.” 

He didn't say anything else as he pulled out a water bottle from his bag, followed by a pack of electrolyte powder. 

He pushed the opened bottle forward, the bits of electrolyte powder already dissolving into the water. “You’re inefficient when your body is malfunctioning.” 

You gave him a knowing smile before he continued to work on his circuit board. Senku's focus returned to it, or so you thought. 

“And your caffeine intake is garbage. Stop consuming it like a lifeline.” 

Your smile faltered. “Hey, you're acting like you don't drink coffee too, genius!” You retorted, frustration lacing your tone.

Without even glancing up from his circuit board, he shot back, “Unlike someone, I don't rely on it to function properly.”

You threw an eraser at him, to which he dodged effortlessly, a smirk tugging the corner of his lips.

Still, despite your banter, there was an undeniable truth. Senku always seemed to notice everything before you did.

Yet you never asked. That was just the way he was—always too observant. Always a step ahead.

Right?

⋆⭒˚.⋆

The science laboratory always smelled like chemicals, metals, and something burning whenever Senku felt like it. 

It was enough to remind students passing by that Senku Ishigami was inside—most likely taking something apart or fixing it, mixing chemicals, or accidentally blowing something up. 

The laboratory wasn't just occupied by him; there were multiple other students working on something. Though they were never as over-the-top as the ones Senku worked on.

In the middle of it all sat Senku, who had recently cleaned up after a chemical experiment. The sleeves of his lab coat were now rolled, revealing his forearms as he worked on the blueprint of his next rocket model. 

The room around him hummed with conversation, though most people knew better than to interrupt him while he worked. 

Which was why a question from another student caught everyone off guard. 

“Hey, Senku.”

“What?” He replied flatly. 

The student hesitated briefly before pointing at Senku's wrist. “What's with the hair tie?” 

Every head in the science laboratory turned immediately because now that someone was brave enough to mention it, there really was a black hair tie looped around his wrist. 

It wasn't unusual at first. Not until people started noticing months ago that Senku always had one on his wrist. They assumed it belonged to him, perhaps to tie his hair during experiments—but no, his hair defied the laws of physics. 

And he never used it. Not even once. 

The student leaned back against the table, a grin on his face as he asked, “You got a girlfriend or something?” 

The room instantly erupted as the question flew out of the students’ mouths. 

“No way! Senku? Seriously?” 

“As if! You really think he has any time for romance?” 

“There's no way, are we talking about the same Senku Ishigami?” 

“That's what a hair tie means, though!” The student argued defensively, pointing at Senku's wrist. “It's literally a thing, guys wear them when they're taken.” 

Senku didn't even bother to look up from the blueprint he was working on, though an irritated look was evident on his face. 

“Dumbest thing I've heard all day.” 

“So that's a no, Senku?” 

“Tch, idiots. Use your brains for once.” 

That unfortunately didn't answer anything. However, everyone seemed to be too interested and eager in the conversation. 

“So is it someone's?” A student from a corner asked. 

Senku finally looked up from his blueprint, clicking the roof of his tongue. “Obviously. Why would I use one when my hair defies gravity and is never in the way?” 

The room went silent before, 

“OHHHH?” 

“No way?!” 

Senku looked far more annoyed after hearing their reactions, which, unfortunately, only encouraged everyone further. 

“It's basic efficiency." He deadpanned. “Unlike you idiots, I account for predictable patterns to avoid unnecessary situations.” 

Then, the doors of the science laboratory suddenly opened. 

“Senku?” Your voice cut through the room of chaos, completely unaware of the chaos you've interrupted and caused. 

Everyone turned to the door, not just Senku. 

You blinked, feeling uncomfortable at the unexpected attention from everyone. “Why is everyone looking at me like that?” 

“No reason,” half of the room replied in unison before pretending to focus on their work again. 

You frowned suspiciously, eyes settled on Senku as your facial expression asked him questions. He didn't say anything, just stared back as you walked towards him. 

You stopped next to him and allowed the suspicion to simmer down as you remembered the reason you were there. “Do you have a hair tie?” 

Without saying a word, he lifted his wrist toward you, as if by muscle memory. Your fingers moved automatically and reached out for it. 

“Lost another one? You're too careless, idiot.” 

You ignored his remark, and with one smooth motion, you slid it off his wrist before tying your hair with practiced ease.

“Thanks, Sen.” You gave him a grin. “I'll see you after school.” 

“Hm.” 

Senku returned to his blueprint without saying anything else the moment you left. 

The room stayed silent for three seconds after you closed the door behind you before erupting into chaos once more. 

“What was that?!” 

“I knew it was her!” 

Senku ignored their loud chaos, his hand already reaching out for the pocket of his pants, and pulled out another hair tie, slipping it onto his wrist. 

“Tch, you people are seriously annoying.” 

⋆⭒˚.⋆

You never questioned Senku's acts of science. Never. Not even when Yuzuriha’s teasing became a little too frequent. 

It was normal; you were used to it for years. Why bother to question it now?

The sound of rain suddenly falling from the skies sliced through your reverie. You halted, staring at the building window next to the staircase, before a groan escaped from your lips. 

“Great. Just great.” You had forgotten your umbrella. Although you always forget to bring it, this time was different. You had asked Senku to go home without waiting for you. The same guy who never forgets to bring an umbrella and checks the weather forecast. 

You made your way down the stairs, and your mood was a perfect match with the gloomy weather outside. 

“Took you long enough.” 

Your head snapped up toward the familiar voice, and your gaze immediately landed on him, Senku. One hand in his pocket while leaning against a wall near the staircase.

Your mouth fell open in shock. “Sen—?! What are you doing here?!” 

“I was waiting for you, what else?” He answered casually. Too casually, as if you didn't ask him not to wait for you. 

He walked closer to you, his lab coat hanging on one shoulder while his bag hung on the other. An umbrella settled on one of his hands. 

“I told you not to wait!” 

“And?” 

“It's raining, and it's late!” 

“Yeah, no kidding. I'm not blind.” 

Without waiting for your response, he threw the lab coat on your shoulder, catching you off guard again. “Wear it, you'll get cold if you don't.” 

You frowned, yet slipped on his lab coat. “You should've gone home.” 

“Yeah, and leave you here with a 10 billion percent chance of being stranded? You never bring an umbrella or check the weather forecast, idiot.” His tone was completely matter-of-fact, like the answer should've been obvious.

He watched as you struggled with the sleeves. He clicked the roof of his tongue before walking closer, hands already hovering over yours. 

“You're hopeless.” He spoke with a tone that was softer than before. Then, with quick, efficient movements, his hands adjusted the sleeves and collar of his lab coat. 

Your breath got caught in your throat for a brief moment because of the proximity. “You really didn't have to wait for me, y’know?” Your voice sounded small.

“You get sick too easily. You have the immune system of a Victorian child.” The tone of his voice remained soft as he buttoned the coat properly, ensuring it was secured around your body. 

You laughed at the last part, eyes admiring the way his hands moved with the same precision he had when working on an experiment. 

He took a step back after he was done. "Besides, Byakuya would never let me hear the end of it if he found out I left without you.” 

You grinned, already hooking your arm with his. “Yeah, he would probably say he raised you better than that. Let's go home, Sen.” 

That evening, the two of you walked home through the wet streets and drizzling rain. Yet you remained dry. Senku's lab coat protected you from the raindrops as well as the umbrella he held tightly above the two of you. 

You never said anything regarding the proximity or the gesture. You were used to him acting like this. It was normal in your vocabulary. 

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Your mother's loud knocking on your bedroom door finally woke you up from your slumber. 

“Aren't you hanging out with Senku today? Why are you still sleeping?” She asked as she entered your room, eyeing your sleepy figure, who had just woken up.

“Hang out with Senku…?” 

Your eyes shot open in realization. You were supposed to help Senku purchase an engine component for his new rocket model today.

You immediately got out of bed, nearly tripping over your blanket, and ran straight to the shower, one of your hands grabbing your towel on the way there. 

“Be careful!” Your mother yelled out of concern.

After a shower, you scrambled to get ready. Your clothes were everywhere after you forgot to prepare an outfit the night before. After selecting one, you searched for a pair of socks before rushing downstairs. 

“Senku's already outside.” Your mother said as she watched you hastily put on your socks, hands already reaching out for your sneakers. 

You bid your mother goodbye, already making it past the front door. Your eyes spot Senku, who was waiting for you. 

He turned right before your hands fell to your knees for support, panting and out of breath after you practically ran while getting ready. 

“You should consider using an alarm.” His voice was laced with amusement as he knelt down, hands already reaching out to tie your shoelaces. 

“You could've tripped over your shoelaces again.” 

Your heart skipping a beat didn't help you at all. It was normal, you swore to yourself. He fixes your shoelaces all the time. It was just efficient.

Your breathing finally returned to normal. “I did, I slept through it.” 

He chuckled before standing up, hand reaching out to flick your forehead. “Idiot, did you sleep late again?” 

You raised a brow, hitting him playfully. “You're one to talk, genius.” 

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Senku's experiments were a constant source of fascination. You were always interested and could hardly take your eyes away whenever he was mixing his colorful array of chemicals in the lab.

“You're too close,” he said, voice edged with concern.

“Huh?”You replied, momentarily distracted.

Before you could process his warning any further, you felt Senku's hand grab your wrist, pulling you behind him right before the Erlenmeyer flask erupted,  bubbles frothing violently at the surface.

Your eyes widened in curiosity as you peeked from behind him. “Whoa,” 

His grip never left yours, never loosened; it remained steady around your wrist.  “Exactly why I told you not to stand too close.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, “You say that every single time, Sen.” 

“And you're stubborn every single time.” He countered back, his grip tightening around your wrist, ensuring you wouldn’t inch any closer.

His grip felt firm, protective, and undeniably comforting. It felt like a silent assurance that you were safe in his presence. You didn't question it; after all, Senku always did things like that, didn't he?

⋆⭒˚.⋆

One of the perks of living near Senku meant you could always crash at his place, and Byakuya allowed you to do so. Especially whenever he's busy training to be an astronaut on the other side of the world. 

The living room of the Ishigami household was lit by the television screen across you, as well as the faint light coming from the windows. Senku's presence was near and grounding as the two of you watched another move that you picked, of course.

You didn't realize you were crying—not at first. The dialogues bled with a soundtrack that was clearly designed to hurt you slowly. 

Beside you, Senku exhaled through his nose. He couldn't comprehend why you kept choosing movies that clearly tugged at your heartstrings.

“Statistically speaking, you've chosen emotional damage 6 times in a row.” He spoke, voice flat as he stared at the screen with a look of boredom. He wouldn't be watching these movies if it weren't for you.

“Shut up, Sen.” You laughed through your flowing tears. Your voice was shaky as the soundtrack was starting to affect you harder. 

That was when he finally looked at you, a frown appearing on his face as he saw the tears streaming down, your hands already hovering above your eyes to rub them. 

You were crying again. Rubbing your eyes on top of that, too. 

“Stop doing that.” He said immediately, tone firm.

You blinked, “Huh?” 

“Tch,” his hands reached out, pulling yours away from your face before you could even process it. His grip was gentle, quick, and precise. 

“You’re going to irritate your corneas if you keep rubbing your eyes,” he continued, as if a doctor was scolding their patient. “Damage delicate blood vessels, make the inflammation worse— do you want me to continue?” 

He warned, and you shook your head. “I'm just—” 

“Crying and rubbing your eyes.” He finished for you, clearly unimpressed. 

His hands never released your wrists. With a sigh, he pulled them down gently. “Why do you always choose movies that do this to you? It's stupid.” 

You opened your mouth, ready to argue and defend your choices. “It's part of the experience, Senku.” 

“Yeah, right, I believe you,” he mocked softly. 

He shifted closer, hands releasing your wrists. And with the same irritating precision he used for everything else, he reached out for your cheeks, gently wiping your tears away with the pad of his thumbs. 

His touch was careful, almost too careful. As if it were another adjustment made to a system that had slightly fallen out of equilibrium. 

“The movie wasn't even great,” he muttered, yet his thumb didn't stop. “Crying over a predictable plot outcome?” 

You glared at him with angry tears, yet he smiled in return as you lunged to attack him. 

“Stop watching them with me if you're only going to judge me, you menace!” 

His chuckle filtered the dialogue from the movie, letting you tug at his hair all you want. 

“Who will stop you from damaging your eyes if I stopped?” He countered casually—too casually, as if it was a natural response. 

You halted, your hands frozen in his hair for a moment before he gently pried them away. 

“What?” He asked, red eyes already staring into yours, the light from the window behind you reflecting on it. “You're acting like I don't do it often.” 

Right. He does. He does it so often that it has always felt natural. And somewhere along the way, you stopped noticing it entirely. Perhaps you’ve noticed, yet dismissed the thoughts. Never allowing yourself to look further into what those actions actually meant.

Because it was Senku. 

Senku Ishigami, the genius who treats inconveniences as problems to solve for the sake of efficiency. However, he was also the boy who remembered things nobody else did. 

And still, despite everything, you never called it anything else. It was just Senku's acts of science. You chose to dismiss the feeling of your chest tightening painfully as the realization was coming closer. 

No, it was just his acts of science, right?

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Wrong. 

You were wrong, utterly wrong. Or at least you thought so, as the realization refused to be dismissed any further after being buried from years of excuses, the familiarity of routines, and the comfort that you understood Senku's nature. 

Because that was easier. It was easier than confronting the terrifying realization that maybe everyone else had been right all along. 

Perhaps it was never purely about science. Maybe it wasn't just about efficiency, logic, or the fact that Senku disliked being unable to solve inconveniences. 

Maybe—

Your breath got caught in your throat again, between your tempting realization and the reflex to push it down. The thought settled painfully; it felt almost impossible to make it go away. 

Your memories weren't much help either, as they replayed endlessly without permission, refusing to stay harmless. 

The reminders, the way he noticed things before you did, the way he was always prepared for your inconveniences as if he had already calculated them, the way he always remembered. 

The realization was everywhere, taunting you dangerously. You could see it in everything you dismissed as his acts of science.

Which was why the sight of the small metal tube of lip stain on your hands felt almost unbearable as it weighed and catalyzed your realization. 

“Try it already,” Senku spoke from his desk chair across from you, who sat on his bed, your usual spot. He sounded mildly annoyed at your silence. 

You couldn't really blame him. You've been silent for too long, buried in your thoughts that refused to go quiet. 

It was almost funny, really. A lip stain was all it took to catalyze your realization. However, it wasn't just any lip stain. It was a replica of the one that you've been searching for endlessly for the past few weeks. 

The same lip stain you cried over with embarrassing levels of devastation after losing it, especially since it was discontinued everywhere. You could recall the countless times you brought it up whenever you were with Senku. How the shade was your favorite since it suited you so well, and how you couldn't find any alternatives. 

“You…made this?” You spoke out softly, finally finding your voice again.

He clicked the roof of his tongue. “Yeah? Why are you acting so surprised as if I hadn't made things before?” 

Your eyes refused to leave the lip stain in your hands. The metal surface felt cool against your fingers. You noticed the engraving of your name on the packaging, which wasn't like the packaging of your previous lip stain with stickers that wore out easily after a few uses.

You heard the wheels of his desk chair roll closer towards you. “I changed the packaging since you always complained about the lettering wearing off easily.” 

“How did you remember the shade?” You looked up at him, and your eyes immediately met his again. He was already looking at you. 

He gave you his signature laugh. “That was the hard part. Learning cosmetology was 10 billion percent easier. I had to rely on information and pictures online, as well as yours.” 

“I would've finished it within a week if you had tested out the shade samples yourself.” He smirked, “Byakuya kept whining that it'd ruin the surprise.” 

You tilted your head, “Byakuya knew about this?” 

“Of course. He caught me watching a cosmetology crash course at 2 AM.” 

You found yourself laughing at his response. Your grin was wide, so wide that it made your cheeks hurt. You were genuinely so happy.

You kept smiling even when you were no longer laughing. Senku raised a brow, mirroring the previous tilt of your head. “What?” 

“You're—” your grin appeared again, your cheeks were really starting to hurt. “You're so sweet, Sen.” 

He paused in disbelief. “Hah? What are you talking about—” 

Your sudden hug caught him off guard, and your added weight pushed the desk chair backward slightly. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, one hand still gripping the lip stain tightly. 

“Thank you, Sen. Seriously, I don't know how to thank you enough.” 

He clicked the roof of his tongue again, acting annoyed, yet the smile on his face said otherwise. As well as his hand that steadied you against him, returning the hug. 

“You can thank me by actually trying it. How else am I supposed to know I got the shade right?” 

The grin on your face remained as you pulled away. “Okay,” your voice became strangely soft. 

You were about to use your phone screen as a mirror when Senku reached out to grab the lip stain from you. “It has a built-in mirror. Less hassle.” 

You stared at him in awe. “Oh my gosh, you really considered the design of the packaging.” 

He shrugged, handing the lip stain back to you. “The original design was inefficient. You would need a separate mirror each time.” 

He didn't say anything else as he watched you apply it to your lips. A satisfied smile formed on your face, and Senku nearly exhaled in relief. He didn't fail; he succeeded in reviving your favorite lip stain. 

Your eyes shifted to meet his again, your smile refusing to leave your face. “How do I look, Sen?” 

He paused for a second, “The same but with a different shade of lip color.” 

You gasped and hit him playfully. “How rude! You learned cosmetology but not about how to compliment a girl?” 

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Why would I waste my time with the latter?”

You rolled your eyes before admiring the shade with the built-in mirror. “You could at least say I look prettier.” 

“You always do,” he responded too quickly, without any hesitation in the tone of his voice. It was too straightforward, as if he were reciting a fact.

You short-circuit for a few seconds, cheeks burning up slightly as you look away.

“You're really amazing, Sen...” You mumbled, admiring his creation while trying to ignore the warmth from your cheeks.

“Yeah?” A quiet chuckle escaped from him. 

“I've built rockets, and this is what impressed you the most?” He added, a teasing grin on his face. 

“Well, this one is the most unexpected thing you would do, y’know?” 

He shook his head with another chuckle. “You're welcome.” He moved himself using his chair, a hand reaching for a notebook on his desk. “I haven't tested the transfer resistance yet, but it stains better than the original.” 

“Why not?” 

“Do you expect me to wear it?” 

You laughed out loud, “Wouldn't you do it for science?”

“Nice joke.” He deadpanned. “I did it for you, not for science, idiot.” 

Somehow, that confession hit harder than anything else. 

“The Senku Ishigami is doing something that isn't for science? Is the world meeting its doom soon?” you joked mockingly. 

“That's worse than the previous one.” He deadpanned again. 

You giggled, hands reaching out to pull his chair closer to you, a mischievous idea had already appeared in your head just seconds ago. 

“What are you doing?” 

You didn't answer. Instead, you tugged his head down, closer to your face. With a swift motion, you pressed a quick kiss on his cheek. 

You pulled away, satisfied with your results. There was a clear mark from the gloss, yet no pigment. The only pigment you found was the burning ears of Senku, dusted with a faint red. 

“Results concluded, it's transfer proof.” You grinned at his frozen state. “You can log the results in your notebook now.” 

A teasing smirk formed on your face as you eyed his silent and flustered figure. “You good, Sen?” 

“Yeah…” he muttered out after snapping out of his frozen state, voice low as he turned away from you to reach for a pen. 

Oh, you were savoring every moment. That was your payback after he made you spiral over his acts of science.

Perhaps the two of you wouldn't talk about it further for now. However, you were—as Senku would say it—10 billion percent sure there's time for that in the future. 

For now, you'll mainly appreciate his acts of science, or his way of showing that he cared far more than you thought. 

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Bonus:

“Where did you learn how to make cosmetics, Senku-chan?” Gen’s curious question hung in the air, capturing Senku's attention. 

The scene unfolded in front of the two of them, along with Suika and Soyuz, who were gathered around Amaryllis and you. Together, you were meticulously applying makeup on Kohaku’s face in preparation for the selection. 

“It's chemistry, mentalist.” His gaze briefly flickered towards Gen and deadpanned. 

Gen sweat dropped. “Yes, but I never expected you to touch that part of chemistry, Senku-chan…” 

The scientist shrugged, dismissing the comment. And before Gen could question him further, you suddenly walked to Senku with a bright grin on your face. 

“Sen, can you make my lip stain again? I've been missing it lately.” Your eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, something Senku could never say no to.

‘Ah.’ Gen's question had been answered the moment the words fell from your lips. The mentalist wasn't even surprised anymore. ‘So this is the so-called acts of science Yuzuriha-chan was talking about.’

It seems the only time Mikey Way ever speaks up in interviews is to drag your band. The "shy", soft-spoken Mikey Way, who seems to have such heated opinions on not just your band, but you as well. Usually, My Chemical Romance tries not to start feuds within their scene, and they also don't condone Mikey's sentiments; nevertheless, the Way always seems to find a way to make some sort of derogatory comment. You used to rack your mind, wondering if you've done anything to offend Mikey or his band, but every time, you came up short. You had no idea what sparked these intense opinions, other than the thought that he just genuinely dislikes you and your band's work.

Fans attribute this intense hatred to your seemingly overnight success. Many speculate that Mikey is only bitter because his own band had to produce several albums to get to their realm of fame, while yours only needed a couple singles to achieve your global stature. Some fans even hypothesize that Mikey's resentment is partially fueled by him being overcast by his brother's shadow, with him being only a bassist and Gerard being the band's frontman.

No matter the reason, you hated Mikey Way.

And you, like everyone else, thought he hated you too.

-

"Mikey, you seriously have to stop with all the shit you're saying abo-"

"What's wrong with having my own opinions?" Mikey interrupted Ray.

The whole band was sitting in the tour bus, driving to the next city. Frank threw a pillow at them from his bunk, but sorely missed. "I'm trying to sleep, just shut up," he mumbled groggily. Mikey rolled his eyes, but obliged. Lowering his voice, he continued, "I'm just saying, their music has no substance. Give the band another year, and they'll all be sellouts." Ray sighed. "They made it to Warped Tour within the same year as their debut album. They're genuises!" he defended the band. Mikey scoffed, "They're mircales, is what." He glanced at Gerard, who was haphazardly rummaging the cabinets for food; a bad idea to not be seated on a moving vehicle. "Besides," Mikey started again, "it's not like they beat your work," he said, aiming to his brother. Gerard didn't even bother to turn to face him, "Mikey, just 'cause you're complimenting me doesn't mean I don't think your shit-talking is-" Mikey threw his hands up in defeat, getting up from the couch. "Alright, fine! I think I'll just go take a nap like Frank…" he said, tired of the conversation as he walked to his bunk. Gerard and Ray exchanged a look, but said nothing. They didn't want to upset their bandmate, but they also didn't want to apprve of his actions.

Lying in his bunk, Mikey drew the curtains for privacy. It was a small space; he was barely able to fit in it, but it was good enough. Besides, after years of touring, he'd gotten used to his temporarily cramped living conditions. He hated that his bandmates wouldn't agree with him, almost as much as he hated you and your band. He hated your fans with they way they idolized you. He hated your producers for letting you published the slop that you called music.

But his hate had been misplaced long ago, and it had quickly turned into an obsession.

Mikey pulled out his phone — the one he'd gotten just months before the tour — and his earbuds. His phone model was new enough to run videos, and God, was he grateful for that. In the privacy of his bunk, Mikey watched your band's newest music video. It wasn't techinically new, since the video had been out since the release of your guys' album, but it was the latest one you had produced, and it had become a daily ritual for Mikey to watch it on repeat. Despite the act he kept up in public, Mikey was one of (possibly the) biggest fan of not just your band, but of you as well. Though he'd never admit it, not even to himself.

He even kept a photo of you in his wallet. He told himself it was just to remind him of the bitch you were; you in the middle of a stage, mouth agape as you sang along to your band's lyrics, stagelights casting you in a mesmerising glow, and your outfit perfectly tailored to fit your form and tease your fans with its exposing nature. The source of the photo? Fansites he found on the internet. Hell, Mikey had even founded a few of the sites. There were well over a dozen, and a fraction of those were his own creation. He made them with the intention that embarassing photos would be posted on them; his goal to make you appear unattractive. However, every website he made ended up doing the opposite of what it was originally created to do. Each site seemed to have a purpose, but Mikey's favorite — and he'd never admit it — was the one dedicated to "leaked" photos. Of course, you were very conservative about what was posted about you online, so the leaked photos mainly consisted of poorly-taken fan-paparazzi clips that were mainly just backstage shots. Though, there were a handful of more intimate ones, but even those were just images of you enjoying the pools of hotels you've stayed at during tours. The pictures seemed as though they consisted of about 20 pixels, but Mikey enjoyed them anyway.

When the internet wasn't enough, Mikey utilized the proximity that Warped Tour allowed him to have to you. He'd often times consider sneaking into your dressing room and stealing something, and he came close, but he'd always freeze up whenever he actually tried to. Still, that didn't stop him from passing by as often as he could, and as discreetly as possible. Sometimes, he'd slip packs of cigarettes under the door as a gift, then when he found you smoking them, he'd give you some crap about how, "No wonder why your vocals are so shit…" or, "Fuckin' junkie…" or, "Way to set an example for your fans…" and the list goes on. You'd always exhale right in his face just to piss him off, but little did you know he enjoyed it.

He loved toying with you, he just wished it was real. He loved the way you'd shoulder-check him whenever you passed by. He loved the way you scoffed at the mention of his name. He loved the look you gave him when you were made to interact with him. But even with all your petty retaliations, you never took a jab at him during your own interviews.

Yet he wished you did.

Perhaps it was because you were part of a relatively new band, while Mikey's had been around for years. Perhaps you were afraid of his crazed fanbase, and the possibility of your miraculous success slipping through your fingers in an instant. Or perhaps you were kind enough to spare him. Or perhaps you didn't care at all.

That's why Mikey did the shit he did. He wanted you to care, even if it meant you hating him. He really did hate you, at least in the beginning. He didn't know what had changed or why, so he tried to get back to his hatred through nasty comments and petty insults. Still, his obsession wouldn't waiver, and now his hate-fueled jabs are motivated by his want to get attention from you.

The tour bus was quiet. Mikey assumed that his bandmates were distracted enough for him to continue his personal activities. After binging all of your band's videos, he went to his fansites. He studied each photo like a museum curator. Mikey stared at his screen, especially admiring how passionate you were when you played. He could only imagine the intensity you'd give during sex. God, how he wished he could fuck you.

Under his sheets, he palmed himself through his jeans. He let out a shaky breath, holding back his moans. Breathing was fine, since he knew the rest of the band would just assume he was dreaming. He imagined showing you just how much he "hated" you, fucking into you deep and rough, making you squirm and writhe beneath him. He'd pin you down, his body flush against yours as he thrusted relentlessly. He wouldn't let up, forcing multiple orgasms out of the both of you. By now, Mikey started to grind his clothed erection against his hand, pretending it was your cunt instead. He wanted to see you without the flashy outfits and glamorous stage makeup; he wanted to fuck every thought of anything else except him out of your mind.

Mikey was getting too eager, and his breathing was beginning to become labored. He forced himself to stop. He couldn't risk getting caught. Usually he didn't really care if his bandmates accidentally walked in on him, he was sure they have before, but to see him jerking off to photos of the very person he so outspokenly hated? He wouldn't be able to explain that one. Mikey begreduingly pulled his hand away from his crotch. He let out a shuddering sigh, dropping his head against the pillow. He checked the time on his phone; there was still a good amount of time before the party tonight. He decided to actually take a nap. He was pretty tired from last night's performance, after all.

-

After waking up, Mikey groped around his sheets to find his phone. He held it to his face, the bright screen practically inscinerating his retinas. He blinked, adjusting to the light. Reading the time, he realized it was the early evening. Just as he was getting up, Gerard flung open the curtain of his bunk. Mikey sheilded his eyes from the fluorescent tour bus lights. "Looks like someone's finally awake," Gerard teased. Mikey grumbled, still too groggy to form a response. He crawled out of his bunk; Gerard stepped aside to give his younger brother some room. He looked him up and down, sighing, "You didn't seriously sleep in those clothes…" It was a question, but he had said it as more of a statement. Mikey stretched, "What? I'm gonna wear this to the party anyway." Gerard rolled his eyes, "At least do your hair or something." Mikey was already walking towards the "living room" of the bus, crouching in front of a propped-up mirror. "I always straighten my hair."

There was a party that night at a nearby venue. It was some run-down punk show place, and a few local bands were playing. Technically, it wasn't a party; all the Warped Tour bands just bought all the tickets to the show, but hey, at least they were supporting local scenes. Besides, there was booze, and that was practically all anyone's criteria for a party was anyway. The bands playing, of course, had been informed of their guest list that night so that they wouldn't be shell-shocked at the fact that pop-punk royalty was attending their show.

Mikey ran his straightener through his hair, flattening his bands to his forehead. Out of the corner of his eye, he could spot Frank doing his makeup, or at least what was Frank's definition of doing makeup. He essentially just gathered a bunch of red and black eyeshadow in his fingers, smudged it around his face, and called it a day. Not that Mikey judged. Plus, the fans were into it, and that's really all any performer needed. After an hour or so, the whole band was ready to go to the venue. They rented a cheap SUV to use as their transportation there and back. After all, it was kind of hard to be discreet if they chose to just drive around in the tour bus instead. Mikey didn't know how, but he ended up with the keys once they all got to the location.

Stepping into the venue, Mikey was immediately greeted by the smell of alcohol and a fog of nicotine. The setting reminded him of his days of playing at underground spots in Jersey, and it made him somewhat nostalgic. Music was already blaring, the lyrics unintelligible with the vocalist's shrill screams. The only thing that could make this night better was sex. He didn't know why, but something about shows like this always got Mikey in the mood. Maybe because it reminded him of how he always slept around in Jersey. It probably was because of that. Nevertheless, Mikey didn't mind. He spotted cups of beer splayed out on a table. He downed one, then made his way into the center of the pit.

The night was a blur. Between drinks and getting thrown around in the pit, hours felt like minutes. He ditched his earlier plan of trying to find someone to hook up with. Deciding to take a much-needed break, Mikey wove his way through a sea of people to get to the door. He wasn't planning on leaving, but it had been a while since he'd had a time like this, and he needed some fresh air.

Outside the show room, the noise died down immediately. The cool, night air was a good contrast to the sticky humidity of the venue. Mikey let out a relaxed sigh. However, his tranquility was only temporary. From around the corner, Mikey could hear faint sides of someone hurling. Usually, he couldn't care less about other people's business. Besides, it'd be unsafe to go wandering down a dark alleyway in an unfamiliar place. Nevertheless, Mikey's curiosity got the best of him; perhaps the alcohol was hindering his critical thinking skills. Mikey walked into the darkness, the faint glow of the street lamp becoming more distant with each step.

Rounding the corner, Mikey found someone leaned over a dumpster, retching their guts out. Their messy hair concealed their face, and Mikey couldn't help but worry that they were puking into their hair. The dim lightning and Mikey's drunkly obscured vision added to the anonymity of the individual, and Mikey found himself drawn to them. Mikey knew he shouldn't be approaching strangers in foreign cities at night, especially while drunk, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this person was familiar. Stepping closer, Mikey finally got a good look at them. He gasped, his pulse freezing momentarily

It was you.

"Y/n…?" He let out a chuckle of disbelief as he continued towards you, though his walk was more of a hobble due to his intoxicated state. You painstakingly lifted your head to look at him, grumbling. "Mikey…" you sneered. He laughed again.

"So, you're a lightweight, huh?"

"I'm not in the fucking mood right now." You looked into the garbage again, gagging, but nothing came out this time. You let out a sigh, heaving. You were still panting from your earlier vomitting.

Mikey tsked, shaking his head. "You should tie your hair back," he advised.

"Just leave me alone." Your words were meant to be snappy, but they came out weaker than you intended. You couldn't help it. You threw up again.

Without thinking, Mikey practically ran to you. His fingers combed through your hair, holding it back, making sure none of your fringe got anywhere near your mouth. His attitude had suddenly dropped. He rubbed your back with his other hand.

"I don't need your help…" you said, defeatedly. He sighed.

"Are you done yet, or is there more?" His voice still had an attitude to it, but even with your druken state, you could detect something else in his tone.

You coughed, sputtering momentarily before spitting into the garbage. You slowly lifted yourself up, Mikey's hand still remaining on your back to help steady you. You wiped your mouth. "I-I'm fine," your voice cracked slightly, your throat worn from all the gagging and whatnot. You tried to walk away, but Mikey held onto your wrist. "You can't go back in there."

You shot him a look, "I can make my own decisions." Still, he held onto you. He rolled his eyes. "You're performing tomorrow. You're just gonna kill yourself if you decided to start moshing or drink your brains out again." You tore your wrist from his grasp, but remained in your place. "Just-" you let out an exasperated sigh. You were going to tell him to shut up, but a part of you felt bad for being so bitchy after he had just helped you hurl your guts out. "Why do you care anyway?"

Mikey grumbled. "Follow me." You scoffed, crossing your arms, but you found yourself trailing behind him anway. What else could you have done? You're helplessly drunk, and in desperate need of another place that isn't a punk show.

-

Mikey was eternally grateful that he was somehow lucky enough to be given car key responsibility for the night. He held open the door of the rental SUV as you climbed into the backseat. What were you doing? Getting into the car of the man you loathe… Were you seriously this out of it? Mikey climbed in after you, closing the door behind him. He turned on the car's overhead light and reached past the passenger seat to grab a waterbottle from the cup holder; it was unopened, thankfully. He offered it to you, and you took it. For a brief moment you worried that it was spiked and he was gonna drug you and kill you right then and there, but then you remembered the water was new. You held it to your lips and practically chugged the thing. You'd never felt more relieved in your life. Just as you were getting your fill, Mikey grabbed the water from you.

"Hey! What are you-"

"You'll cramp," he said, not even looking up at you as he fastened the plastic lid to the bottle. "I don't want you throwing up again. This thing's a rental-" He finally looked up.

You watched his expression as he examined your face. You could usually read people, but you were still quite drunk, making you less perceptive than normal. You furrowed your brows, feeling quite defensive now. "I know. I'm not wearing all that heavy stage makeup. Yeah, whatever, I look like sh-"

"I like it."

Your eyes snapped to his. He was staring straight at you. "I think you look better like this anyway." You opened your mouth to make some sort of snarky remark, but nothing came out. "Not that you'd look bad in anything, anyway," he added.

You blinked, dumbfounded. Were you dreaming? How much did you drink? There's no way this was real… Maybe you threw up so hard you passed out. There's no way Mikey Way is saying this about you. He hated you. You hated him.

Then suddenly your mouth was on his. You didn't even know who started the kiss. You heard the half-empty waterbottle clatter onto the car floor as Mikey's hands tangled into your hair. His tongue entered your mouth, seemingly not caring that you had thrown up just moments earlier. He leaned into the kiss, delving into you deeper and rougher. Eventually, you ended up looking up at him as you laid in the backseat. Your hands were around his neck; he pulled back to catch his breath, his glasses were slightly fogged up.

He kneeled above you, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. He then helped you get yours off as well. Once your torso was bare, he eyed it, tracing your skin with his long, slender fingers. You shivered, you weren't typically this sensitive. Perhaps the alcohol was heightening your senses, although you could feel yourself sobering up. Perhaps Mikey just had a different effect on you…

Mikey lowered his head into your neck, his tongue lapping at your skin before nipping it gently with his teeth. You let out a gasp. His hands kneaded your chest, rolling and pinching your nipples between his fingers. Once he's had enough of the foreplay, Mikey works at your bottoms, unbuttoning and unzipping them before you lift your hips to help him peel them off of you. He treasures the sight in front of him, grazing his hands along your sides as he looks over your exposed flesh. He slips a hand under the waistband of your undergarments, stroking your wetness. You let out a shaky breath. His lips connect to yours again as he slips a finger in. You moan into his mouth. He swallows your sweet sounds down his throat as his finger twists inside of you.

After enough teasing, Mikey slides a second finger in. He presses his mouth harder onto yours, muffling your whimpers as his fingers curl into you perfectly, making you see stars. Mikey buries his hand knuckles-deep into you. You squeeze your eyes shut, writhing in pleasure beneath him. You could feel him chuckle into your mouth sadistically as he kissed you, amused by the effect he's having on you.

Eventually, Mikey can't take the constraint of the fabric anymore. He hooks his fingers into the waistband, glancing at your face as a silent ask of permission. Obediently, you lift your hips, allowing him to slide the pair down to your ankles, then tossing them onto the car floor with the rest of your clothes. Mikey's eyes rake over your now fully nude body. His fingers trace your wet heat at an agonizingly slow pace, circling around your core and gently scraping your skin. Mikey scooted back in the cramped space of the car, positioning his head between your legs. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, softly grabbing your thighs. He planted soft, wet kisses on your inner thighs, eliciting a contented sigh out of you. Your heart raced in arousal and anticipation as Mikey's kisses trailed upwards. Once his mouth reached your center, he stuck out his tongue, slowly dragging it along your form, tasting your salty warmth.

You let out a whine, instinctively arching your back. Your hands, searching for some sort of stability, found their way to the back of Mikey's head; your fingers combed through his straightened hair. Mikey looked up at you through his grown-out bangs, pleased by how sensitive you were. His hands dug into your thighs further as he continued lapping you up. His tongue found its way to your most sensitive spot. You moaned as he swirled you around in his mouth. He nipped at you gently, not enough to hurt you, but enough to send shockwaves through your body. You twitched and whimpered at the sensation. Any pain he caused you was quickly replaced with pleasure as he soothed the area with a tender kiss before licking it gently again.

Mikey doubled his efforts, wet noises coming from your bottom half as he ate you more vigorously than before. His pace quickened, becoming borderline relentless. Your thighs clamped around the sides of his head, your hands grabbing his hair tightly as you attempted to ground yourself. Your reaction only spurred him on further. He let out a low groan as you tugged at his hair, the sound sending vibrations through you that made you suck air in through your teeth. You squirmed beneath him, utterly helpless from just his mouth. You felt your orgasm drawing closer, and Mikey was aware of this. Your chest was heaving, your desperate cries of ecstasy growing higher in pitch with each passing moment. Just as you were about to cum, Mikey suddenly stopped, removing his face from between your legs.

You looked up at him with a reddened face and teary eyes, confused, dazed, and eager for more. He grinned at your expression. "I know what you need," he spoke up, already imagining just how thoroughly he'd fuck you. "But I needed you to absolutely want it first."

You blinked, registering his words. Slowly, the reality of his implications set in. Mikey worked on undoing his belt. "Come on. Speak up," he demanded coldly, masking his excitement. "Unless…" he paused, letting the sight of his half undone belt linger, "…you don't really want it."

God, you really did hate this man, but you need to cum more. You knew he was just teasing you, but before you could think, you opened your mouth.

"No- Wait." Your voice was worn from your earlier moans, making it slightly raspy. You swallowed hard, partially to prepare yourself for the bullshit you were gonna spew next, and partially as an attempt to moisten your dry throat. "Don't stop."

Mikey raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. You knew you were exactly where he wanted you, but you also knew he was just as desperate as you are. You didn't even need to look down to see his growing boner, which was visible from just your peripheral vision.

"That's no way to properly ask, is it?" Mikey taunted.

You opened your mouth to continue, then grumbled, annoyed at Mikey for acting hard-to-get, and annoyed at yourself for playing into it. Still, you couldn't deny the growing wetness between your legs. You rolled your eyes, taking a deep breath. "Please just…" you started, your eyes flickered to and from his face, too embarrassed to maintain eye contact. "I need you. Right now." Your tone was defeated, but also pleading. Admittedly, Mikey expected more from you, but he wasn't stupid enough to push it. He took what he could get, though he continued with his egotistical bit.

"So fucking stubborn, you know that?" He said, smiling down at you. You scowled at him. He scoffed, amused that you had the guts to act like he wasn't about to pound your brains out.

"I'm gonna fuck the bitch right out of you."

With that, his pants and belt flew to the floor, but not before he grabbed a condom out of his pocket. You made a mental note to give him shit later about having a condom on standby. Though, you did appreciate his efforts to preserve the health and well-being of the both of you. After rolling the protection on, Mikey wasted no time. With his hands steadying you at your hips, he lined himself up with your entrance.

Slowly, he pushed himself inside of you. Unaccustomed to his size, you let out a sharp gasp, slightly wincing. A flicker of worry crossed his face, ironic to his earlier dominant and uncaring persona. You could tell he was being gentle, because he was letting you adjust to his length as he eased the rest of himself in, not going fully balls-deep yet. Mikey rocked his hips back and forth, fucking you rather timidly for someone who claimed to despise every fiber of your being. A light blush formed on his face, his mouth hanging agape as his breathing grew slightly ragged. Your hands rested near your head, your fingers clawing into the seat cushion beneath you. You were still tender from Mikey's earlier teasing, making you more sensitive than you usually would be. Still, you were being stubborn, so you tried to stifle your moans. However, your attempts were futile, as they came out as whimpers instead. Your noises motivated Mikey, who was eager to hear more. He was really in the mood now, and it seemed he would, in fact, hold up to his words.

Without warning, he thrusted fully into you. You immediately threw your head back, letting out a sound between a moan and a yelp. You couldn't see it through your rolled-back, half-lidded eyes, but Mikey was grinning smugly, enjoying your lewd reflex. He accelerated his pace, though still keeping a steady rhythm — which you would expect anyway, with him being a musician. In an attempt to get a deeper fuck, Mikey lowered himself to you, his arms on either side of your torso as he relied on his elbows for support. Sensing his shift in position, you forced your head back to normal to get a view of him. The two of you locked eyes, equally lost within pleasure. No words had to be spoken, both of you just enjoying each other's sounds: your desperate whines, Mikey's heated panting, and the sound of skin slapping as he rammed in and out of you.

Your arms found their way around Mikey. Your hands tugged at his hair like before, until you eventuallly dragged them down his bare back. Your right hand settled at the nape of his neck, your touch there making him shiver. Your left hand grazed over his spine, feeling it flex with every thrust he took into you.

You weren't exactly sure when, as the relentless stimulation for the past half hour had considerably disoriented you, but Mikey's pace picked up again. This time, even rougher than before. You were afraid you wouldn't be able to walk the next morning, much less perform. But any concerns you had quickly faded from the pure euphoria of Mikey's dick repeatedly stroking your spongey channel, hitting every spot that left you dizzy and needy. Sensing his own release soon approaching, Mikey's face dove down to your neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. He was determined to make you finish before he did. You craned your head, tilting it away to give him better access, moans continuing to spill out of your mouth.

Mikey's soft biting combined with his unwavering thrusts finally drew an orgasm out of you. It didn't take long for you to cum anyway, but when you did, it was intense. Your legs tensed, freezing then eventually kicking and squirming. Your back arched, your mouth open as it let out short gasps of breath mixed with desperate whines of pleasure. You threw your head back, your eyes rolling upwards then eventually fully closing as you convulsed around Mikey's dick. He never let up, drawing your release out for as long as possible. Eventually you came down from your high, your eyes fluttering open, your lungs gasping for oxygen.

Despite your intense unraveling, Mikey continued, ramming into you more intensely than ever. Your brow furrowed, your pleasure being turned into concern, and a slight sense of fear. "Mikey-" you whimpered out, your voice shaking. "What are you-"

"I'm not done," he panted out, his tone wavering slightly. Your nails raked his skin, surely leaving visible marks that neither of you could see at the moment. "I- I can't-" you muttered out breathelessly, tears of overstimulation beading in the corners of your eyes. Your earlier fear had once agan been replaced by ecstasy. You were twitching beneath Mikey now, your nails digging firmly into his shoulder blades. Mikey captured you in another searing kiss, though this time he was the one helplessly moaning. He pulled back, a string of saliva connected your lips from him drooling from pleasure. He sucked a break in through his teeth, "Holy fuck, Y/n…"

Both of you were heavily breathing, each feeling your own orgasm appraoching. Though for you, this would be your second one. "Mikey, I-"

"I know, I know," he whispered to you, his voice breaking now. "I am too," he grunted out, as though it was straining him to speak.

His thrusts growing sloppy, Mikey's moans mixed with yours, creating a melody of pleasure in the now sex-scented rental car. Your noises grew higher, as Mikey's became louder by each breath he took. With a final, deep thrust, the both of you came together. Your legs squeezed Mikey's waist as he buried himself inside of you. Mikey lingered in his position momentarily, his eyes slamming shut before slowly blinking open again to gaze into yours. Thick ropes of cum gathered in his condom, though you could feel their warmth through the thin latex. Your own fluids coating the outside of it. Through his ragged breaths and spent moans, he rocked in and out of you lazily, easing the both of you from your orgasms.

Mikey collapsed on top of you, letting his dick remain inside of you until it softened. His forehead rested on your collarbone, and you could feel his warm, shallow breaths against your sweat-slicked skin. Your heaving chest caused his limp body to rise and fall to the pattern of your breathing. Your hands released their death grip on Mikey's skin, moving up to gently play with his hair. Moonlight peeked through the now fogged-up windows of the car, illuminating the scene within. Even with his face buried against you, you knew Mikey was smiling, and you were too.

"I hate you."

"I hate you too."

You drop your hips down, setting your clothed cunt right down on him, and his hips buck on instinct. You giggle around a moan, lashes batting down at him, and his hands flex as he swallows hard.

"I do like it. Fuckin' love it... but.." But what? What was he worrying about again? His girlfriend was grinding her hot little pussy down on him and he was wimping out? The fuck? He doesn't finish his sentence, instead stretching up to reconnect your lips to his.

You eagerly kiss him, tongue intertwining with his own, and his eyes flutter shut. Your lips are soft against his, softer than the thighs bracketing his hips, softer than the pussy that's continuously rocking back and forth against hi—oh fuuuuuck.

He breaks the kiss again, his foggy brain finally clearing enough for him to remember the very urgent matter. He's going to fucking cum. Right in his pants like the virgin he is.

"B-Bunny, wait. Forreal this time, I-I hafta—" You move your kisses down to his throat, and he hisses when you suck a mark over his bobbing Adams apple for everyone to see. Fuck yes. "Baby, please!" He doesn't know what he's begging for anymore, whatever concern he had once again lost in the midst of you, but you give it to him regardless, hips rolling and rocking and bouncing as if you're riding him — as if he's buried deep inside you, cock nestled in between your walls.

"Ohh fuck, Zanka!" You cry out as you sit up fully, your hands trailing up your front as you toss your head back. You're fully clothed save for your socks, but Zanka has seen you without clothes more than enough to know what's underneath that shirt and bra. He can envision your body clear as day, what it'd be like if this was the real thing — full tits bouncing with each move of your hips, nipples hard in his mouth, rounded ass gripped in his hands, pussy hole spread wide around the base of his cock. "Just like that - right there. Fuck me just like that." Oh, you're sick.

His teeth grit together, hands slapping down on your waist to catch you mid-bounce, and he thrusts his hips up, the both of you moaning in sync as your centers meet. Your own hands slap down on his chest, painted nails bunching up in his shirt and gripping hard, and the sight of the two of you fucking through your clothes is borderline disgusting. If all the blood in Zanka's brain hadn't rushed down to his engorged cock he might've been embarrassed, but all he can think about now is the wet spot over your shorts that seep through to his own pants and how he'll stuff the soiled fabric in his mouth later on when you're asleep in your room and he's got his dick in his hand.

His balls draw up, a tell-tale signal that he's about to blow his load, and as if you can smell it in the fucking air you grab his hands and put them on your chest, encouraging him to grope and squeeze at your tits as you rock back and forth, back and forth. Your lips are parted, eyes lidded, and you look like pure fucking sex - a million times sexier and hotter than the chicks in the dirty magazines stashed between his mattress and the wall.

He cums so hard that he sees black - it bleeds into the edges of his vision before overtaking it completely, and you kiss and pet at him until it comes back, bottom lip trapped in between your teeth as you watch him come back to this realm of existence.

You give him a sultry smile.

An Angel's Return

Tamsy Caines x Spherite!Reader

Synopsis: Tamsy takes a long awaited vacation to visit his beloved fiancée in the Sphere.

Tags: Established Relationship, fluff, Prince!Tamsy, Fem!reader, Fiancée!reader.

Word count: 1,317

"Alright, that sounds like a plan. I'll inform Semiu to account for your week's absence when planning the mission dispatches for the week." Corvus spoke, filing the papers Tamsy signed to officiate his leave.

"I appreciate the leniency given my short notice." The blonde stood, smoothing out his hair as he turned towards the door. "Try not to miss me too much," he let out an airy chuckle before sending a slight wave Corvus's way and walking out of his office.

Tamsy was feeling absolutely elated. Despite his calm expression, he was buzzing with anticipation. If anyone was analyzing the cleaner close enough, they'd be able to see the extra spring in his step as he walks to his room. Luckily, he was under no one else's gaze as he pushed open the door to his dorm. He makes quick work of his clothes, swiftly changing out of his cleaners uniform and into a casual oversized blue outfit. The man wastes no effort in packing extra items, he simply tucks Tokushin into his long sleeve, laces his roller skates, and sets off for the entrance lobby.

Semiu looks up from her magazine, noticing the stoic cleaner. "I've already gotten word from boss. Have a safe trip and make sure you get back when you're scheduled to," she calls out to Tamsy as she looks back down at her magazine.

"Come now, I wouldn't dare stain my punctuality record. You should know that, yes? Have a little more faith in me, Semiu." He smiles at her, giving a wave before heading outside. Tamsy took off the moment his wheels hit the ground, eager to reach a secluded area suited for take off. It only takes a couple of minutes for the long haired cleaner to find a suitable spot, after all, there are many uninhabited areas on the Ground.

After one more look around, he flares out his wings. One powerful motion is all it takes for the angelic man to start ascending. The wind in his face is no bother, in fact, it's not even a thought on his mind when he's so focused on getting to the Sphere. Not because the floating island is seen as a paradise, but because his paradise is awaiting him there. You are awaiting him. That thought alone is enough to motivate him to fly at his top speed.

A soft thump sounds as the prince lands on the open windowsill to his bedroom chambers in the palace. He folds his wings in, the gold masses disappearing behind him. He gracefully slides into the room and scans the area.

Empty. That's odd, he thinks. You're usually in here this time of day. He takes a breath and opens his mouth, ready to call out your name. Before he can, a small crash echoes from his closet, as if someone just dropped everything they had. He walks over to where the noise originated.

"Darli-?"

"TAMSY," you rush at him full speed, enveloping your arms around him with a huge smile on your face. Your fiancé plants a kiss to your head before placing gentle hands on your shoulders. He puts slight distance between your bodies, so he could get a good look at his girl. Bringing his large hands up, he cradles your face and gazes into your sparkling eyes. He makes no attempt to hide the admiration in his expression before leaning back in to place a longing kiss on your lips.

You pull back this time, unable to contain your excitement. "Oh my gosh, you're home! You're really back, I missed you so much. It felt like you were gone forever!!!" You bounce with excitement, your hair bobbing along with your movement. The white Spherite attire you adorn sits nicely on your form. He smiles but stays quiet, almost lost in a trance with the way your hair frames your face like a crown. She truly is fit for a queen, he deems.

"I missed you, too, my love. You could never know how much I cherish our time together," he muses. He adores when you're excited, so he makes no attempt to calm you down. You giggle at his confession and start rattling off once more.

"How are you? How was was your trip? What is it like in the-" you cut yourself off abruptly and run over to the large doors. You shut them and speed back over to Tamsy. "What is it like in the pit?" you brought yout voice down to a whisper. He chuckled at your antics before responding.

"I'm doing splendid, I'll tell you all about the pit later, I promise. But first, what are you doing with that clipboard, pray tell?"

"Oh, right," you blink at the clipboard in your hand, having finally calmed down enough to have a normal conversation. "I'm wedding planning!! You got here just in time." You clap your hands twice and turn to the closet before calling out "Tamsy!"

On command an identical version of Tamsy walks out of the closet. He dons the same scars, missing pinky, and dual-toned hair. The only difference is that his hair is flowing behind him, free from any type of binding and he's in royal Spherite attire. His arms are full of fabrics, color swatches, and books.

You turn back to the real Tamsy and pull out your compact mirror from your pocket. "It's just like you said," you begin with a smile, holding up the mirror to him, "as long as I clone you with my vital instrument, no one will suspect a thing."

He looks at you fondly before speaking, "I truly could not do what I do without you, darling. You allow me to frequent the pit, whilst insuring no one notices my absence. I can only imagine how tough it must be for you to keep this ruse for so long."

You feel your face heat and clear your throat while avoiding his sandy eyes. "It's nothing really, I can't have the kingdom spiraling over your disappearance." You gesture towards the bed and Clone Tamsy sets the materials down there. You open your compact mirror and point it toward the clone. "Absorb," you command and he is turned to light and sucked back into the glass.

"Now that you're really here there's no use for him right now," you grab his hand. It's slightly calloused due to constantly holding his distaff, but you love the warmth it provides nonetheless. You guide him over to the bed and sit down.

Placing Tokushin aside, Tamsy reaches for a book and opens it. "Wedding inspiration pictures. I presume the images you've circled and noted are things you desire at our own," the blond inquires, eyes scanning over the pages.

"Actually they're things I wanted to discuss with you about maybe having, it's your wedding too afterall." You snuggle into his side, pointing at a flower arch. Being so close you can take in his scent, and notice he's wearing the cologne you like. "But you have to wear this on our wedding, non-negotiable," you take in a big breath of air to linger in the smell.

"Noted," he tries to keep his smile down while flipping the page and his eyes land on a cake. "How do you feel about vanilla cake with strawberries on top?"

"Sounds perfect," you kiss his neck and he let's out a small, approving hum in response to feeling your soft, full lips. After a few minutes, you lift your head and turn your attention toward the open window. From here, you can see the edge of the sphere. "Will you tell me about the pit now?"

Tamsy closes the book and chuckles. He wraps his arms around you and lays you both against the bed to cuddle. "Well first, I suppose I should start by telling you the residents prefer the term The Ground"

© 2026 kumasakka — do not plagiarize , copy , modify , translate our work ⸝⸝

divider source — @uzmacchiato , @cursed-carmine ⸝⸝

taglist — @solarisstarrsolomonsbeloved , @staygoldsquatchling02 , @megumismyhusband , @angelhaezy , @totallybakedcake , @koiromii , @digikiiz , @irethepotato , @si11ymotherfucker , @arisu79 , @kyo-mii , @cecilia-d1eliohater , @magpieka , @riuvy !

“You’re shaking, and you’re soaking my robes. People might get the wrong impression if they see us like this, and with that area soaked.”

Your words seem to land on him. His body freezes as he finally lifts his head, tilting it to meet your gentle, smiling gaze.

His onyx eyes glisten like the night ocean reflecting moonlight, strands of raven hair cling to tear streaked cheeks. Sunlight highlights the sharp angles of his face, as if he is a living petal unfolding in beauty.

If anyone sees him like this…

“To let you go without being there… it’s difficult,” he admits.

The man pauses, brows twitching as if racing through countless thoughts. For a rare moment in his life, he isn’t an executioner. He is simply human. Fear, care, love. They all collide at once in this quiet instant.

“Shugen…”

“Many comrades have lost their lives at Shinsenkyō,” he continues, voice low but steady. “What I feel is not doubt, nor is it to diminish your hard work. It is… my selfishness. My selfishness in wanting to keep you away from all danger.”

His words linger in the air like stars suspended over a restless life.

Trees and bushes seem to breathe with the wind, a soft, soothing sigh threading through the distant clashing of swords and the muted groans of ambition from the training yard.

Shifting on your folded legs, your hands slide along his sides to the back of his arms, coaxing him to sit up. Shugen doesn’t resist, his eyes refuse to leave your face. Fighting back the urge in flutter as you cup his cheeks and gently pull him closer. Thumps wipe away his tears.

“I can be very selfish,” you murmur, letting your gaze flicker down to his lips before returning to his dark eyes, “even when I pour myself entirely into my sword.”

“Yes but—“

“Never would I allow myself to lose,” you continue, voice firm yet soft, “not through foolishness, not through misfortune. And I expect you to understand that better than anyone else because…”

Shugen’s eyes widen in realization. His adam’s apple bobs in a gulp as his lips part to speak.

“I will come back, no matter the cost. Waiting home… is someone far more worthy than anything else in this world.”

The words hang heavy, the same words he mutters every time he leaves on missions that don’t include you. Moments when uncertainty and longing outweigh every cloud above or sound around.

A small, tender smile curves your lips.

Is there any other feeling as strong as love?

Leaning in, you press a soft peck to his, and at last, he finally lets his eyes flutter shut. The lines of worry etched across his face begin to ease, melting slowly with each heartbeat.

Every part of you intertwines. Hair brushes hair, hands cling to arms, lips meet lips. While the world blurs into a soft golden haze, a lone butterfly drifts quietly as a fleeting witness to your closeness.

You drown in each other, each soft gasp and heartbeat amplifying the connection, until the need to breathe reminds you both that even these moments, as infinite as they feel, exist within the bounds of reality.

“Guess you’ve got a knack for kissing, huh?” you tease, voice dripping with humor and just enough mischief.

Shugen lets out a soft scoff, followed by a chuckle, and presses his head against your shoulder. He inhales deeply, taking in your warmth and scent like it is a balm for his soul.

“Of course I do,” he says, voice low, almost smug.

“Don’t let Jikka-domo hear you admit that,” you warn.

A low, amused growl escapes him, you feel his smile press into your neck. The sensation makes you squirm, unable to resist the overwhelming tickle.

“Still too sensitive,” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin as he shifts, laughter threatening to break through.

“Careful,” you tease back, letting your fingers linger, “because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you want us to get caught.”

His head lifts slightly, eyes meeting yours, the faintest glint of mischief appearing on that usually stoic face.

“It doesn’t appeal as … bothersome,” he says softly, gaze drifting downward, “I would pay the price of my contribution.”

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Oh? And what prize might that be?”

Shugen’s hand reaches for yours, capturing it gently. He lifts it, pressing the back of your palm to his lips in a soft, reverent kiss.

“Perhaps… it would open new opportunities for us,” he murmurs, looking to the side. Voice low, softly yet deeply intimate.

Tilting your head, you follow his gaze. A green butterfly perches delicately on the stone nearby, wings flickering in the sunlight. The sight makes your heart flutter, matching the quiet racing of your chest.

Shugen’s eyes flick back to you, a faint blush warming his cheeks. His jaw is sharp, the angles softened by the curve of his lips as he whispers, almost shyly,

“Marriage…”

You blink, stunned, letting the word hang between you.

“And… maybe children,” he adds, a soft laugh brushing through the statement, like it is half a dream, half a promise.

Your fingers tighten slightly in his, and you feel the weight of the moment settle between you.

Light, but full of life. Full of possibility, and heartbeats echoing in tandem. The wind stirs, the butterfly lifts into the air, and the world around you seems to pause, waiting to witness the quiet, daring confession of two hearts daring to imagine a future together.

“Shugen…” you mutter, breath catching in your throat, cheeks burning as you cup your face. “You can’t just say something like that!”

He tilts his head, a mischievous glint in his onyx eyes. “Would you not be delighted by such a thought?” His tone is teasing, yet genuine, and you can’t help but glance at the grass beneath you. Even the blades seem frozen, as if the world itself has paused in shock.

“That’s—I… I didn’t say that,” you stammer, heart hammering against your ribs.

“So you would be pl—”

Before he can finish, you lunge forward, hands flying to cover his mouth. The sudden movement sends both of you tumbling backward. Completely forgetting how the hill slopes beneath you.

Gravity wanting to remind you pulls you harshly, before landing in a groan. Uncomfortably sprawled, your body presses lightly against his. One hand lands near his head while the other clamps over his lips, muffling any protest he might voice.

“You can be very mean, you know that, Shugen-domo?” you breathe, fighting to keep your tone steady despite the fluttering panic in your chest. Shifting slightly, moving your hand from his mouth and balancing your weight on both hands, careful not to crush him.

Or yourself.

Mentally.

Shugen’s initial surprise softens almost immediately into a quiet, teasing smile. Hands slide up to your waist, warm and deliberate, while his gaze lingers briefly downward before snapping back to yours. Shameless, even in these moments.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, each word deliberate, almost reverent. His hair, tousled by the wind, catches the sunlight, strands brushing your cheek. Around you, the world seems suspended. Leaves flutter, the distant murmur of the river, a lone butterfly traces the sunlight above the stone.

As if your body blocks the reality of your life, replacing it with soothing things.

“Such cruelty,” he murmurs, pressing a soft hand against your waist. “Binding me to a romance and leaving me… like this.”

You blink, huffing, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m no runaway bride.”

“Bride,” he echoes, a playful lilt in the word, dark eyes gleaming with quiet affection.

Leaning a little closer, you let your foreheads touch. “You’re impossible,”

“And yet,” he breathes, eyes moving your one eye to the other, “I cannot imagine anyone else in my place.”

A hush falls around you, flowers bending as if to listen. Rustling leaves, distant river, heartbeats align, rapid and warm, as you linger in that suspended space. Stuck between teasing and confession, laughter and something far deeper.

Just like that, every worry from moments ago dissolves, vanishing like mist over a freshly washed painting.

Maybe it’s these moments that you cherish so hard. That the possibility of it ending has you broken before the day even comes.

Before you can speak, a familiar, little girl’s voice cuts through the backyard.

Sagiri.

Both of your heads snap up in shock. You topple slightly into him, wincing as your body hits his. Shugen remains perfectly unfazed, smiling small somehow both exasperated and endearing.

Of course.

“She can’t see us…” you mutter, voice low.

“Roll down and circle through the back path?” he suggests, the tiny hint of humor in his tone betraying his usual seriousness.

You nod, grateful for his calm.

Shifting off him, you roll carefully down the gentle slope, grass brushing against your arms. Shugen follows, chuckling softly in quiet whispers that mingle with the rustle of leaves.

Once at the bottom, you both scramble upright, brushing off stray blades of grass. Hands find each other, fingers interlacing with a natural ease, and together you slip into the promise of the forest beyond the compound. Once again, using the familiar escape route you rely on whenever getting caught here seems inevitable.

The shadows of the trees stretch long and welcoming, leaves brushing your shoulders as you run. You duck under low hanging branches, and Shugen’s laughter.

A rare sound.

“You know,” you whisper, smiling, “this is starting to feel like a secret mission just for us.”

The forest seems alive with possibility, each step, each glance, each breath weaving a memory that is yours alone.

“We’ll have plenty more.”

𓂃 ོ☼𓂃