AyJay

You loved Sukuna so much it hurt your heart at times, unable to properly show how much poured from your fingertips after touching his skin. Just a hug or a small kiss would have you flooded with love. All for him.

He was the same, you never knew any hardships when he was around, there to be a strong arm, a word that made you laugh, brightening your day. Never upset you, sure, he might be a bit rough around the edges, but you weren't perfect, either.

The purest kind of love and adoration, care.

Mutual obsession.

So when did it start going wrong?

Truthfully, you hadn't even noticed it. Nothing was amiss. Your mind about him is as spotless as your bow, your husband could do no wrong.

Nothing was wrong in your marriage, nothing had changed in your relationship.

But your surroundings were shifting.

Missing knives, but they were replaced with new, better ones a day or two after you began asking where they had gone. A safe tucked away in the closet, no clue what was inside.

"For our safety, sweetheart, you know how wild animals are."

Having to do more loads of laundry than usual. But Sukuna himself would do it, not letting you glance at his dirty clothes thrown into a pile in the middle of the hamper, reassuring you to leave it to him.

"Go rest, my flower. I'll handle it."

No questions about this odd tint of red around his fingernails that never went away.

Why was the shed locked shut?

The shed.

Just a regular tool shed, your husband kept his power tools and lawnmower there, nothing unusual for the house.

So why was it bolted shut day after day unless Sukuna strolled inside of it?

"Just working on some things in there, don't worry your pretty little head about it, alright, my doll?"

"You should be worrying more about watering the flowers instead of some junk in a rotting shed, my love."

Sweet words, easing your curious heart. He was a good man.

But you couldn't help yourself, could you?

Off at work, at least that's what your husband told you he was up to, not around to fill your ears with light whispers and reassurance of your growing paranoia.

It was starting to get cloudy outside, a storm rolling in from past the canopy of nearby trees. Your first sign not to step outside.

The second one was the lock on the wooden door.

You had the key, right?

Of course you did.

While searching for your slippers in the morning, you had peeked under the bed.

Taped on the underside of your husband's side was… something.

Now it was in your hands, your anxious, shaky hands.

Don't be nervous now, all you have to do is turn the lock.

Click.

You didn't reach for the handle yet, taking a shaky breath and shutting your eyes.

Sukuna wouldn't be mad, right?

No, no, he wouldn't.

The only way he spoke to you was through patience and gentle guidance. He'd just chuckle and show you what's inside himself, yes.

Manipulation and lies, sugarcoated to sound as tender as your flesh.

You didn't know, using that same feeling of safety to calm your nerves, peering at the door once again, your hand on the handle already, key in the lock.

Nothing to be uneasy about, it's just a shed with gardening tools and maybe some car parts. Stop feeling like you might get your neck snapped just by having a little look.

The door creaked open, louder than you would have liked. The treeline went silent after the uncomfortable noise. A third warning.

What you saw wasn't all that odd… the lawnmower in the corner, a grass trimmer, and a few shovels in a dark corner.

You stepped inside, leaving the door ajar.

The lamp in the middle of the shabby thing flicked awake after tugging on the string dangling down.

There was this faint smell of dread hiding behind the organization.

Your eyes flicked around, landing on the workbench at the far side. Your feet carrying you there before your brain.

A small jar of pulled teeth fell into your gaze.

Teeth?

The more you looked around, the items didn't seem so innocent anymore.

Thick rope and a few rusty saws tucked under the table.

Not rust.

Maybe the worst thing was a splotch of thick blood on the edge of a bucket filled with that same stench of impending doom.

It wasn't blood… just paint.

Your fingers reached out, you had to prove to yourself that it was nothing.

But the deep crimson stained your hand, the smell of iron hit your nose, and you couldn't keep the fantasy stable anymore.

Thunderclouds had hidden the sky completely outside, making the space darker than before.

The loud thuds of heavy raindrops hitting the tin roof of the shed rang through your ears, overwhelming your senses, hands trembling while looking at the glossy blood seeping into your nail beds.

You should not have left the door open.

"My flower, what are you doing in here?"

Sukuna had returned.

You snapped out of your trance, blinking and looking in his direction, hand reaching up to your head in search of the comfort of your lace bow, fiddling with it while watching your husband approach.

Rough hands cradled your face, gently checking if you had hurt yourself. Red irises did a horrible job of hiding his displeasure with you.

"You didn't harm yourself, did you? Oh my sweet girl… come here."

A hug, face smushed into the comfort of his chest. A steady heartbeat against your ear.

So he wasn't mad… good.

Your trembling hands clung to his back.

You couldn't see the way Sukuna's jaw clenched, nails itching to claw into your sides and squeeze you tight enough to have you pop.

"You shouldn't be in here. How about we go back inside and have dinner, hm?"

No questions about the key or your findings.

False safety.

Sukuna had taken you back in the house, sat you down, and helped heat up some food. It was silent while you ate, your fork barely able to cut through a soft vegetable, as the thought of the odd findings popped back into your mind.

"Sweetheart, why is your bow filthy? Messy girl."

Your fingers had stained a corner of it with the Incarnadine shade.

Scrubbing. Scratching, desperately washing both your hands and the lace, couldn't get rid of it.

You cried in his arms that night, gathered up in his chest, head lying against his.

Sukuna caressed your back, caressed your hair, and shushed you to sleep.

It was just a bow.

The truth was cracking from the seams everywhere you looked now. The house was lacking color, the dullness and real darkness creeping in from unlit corners. The ingredients in the pantry and the shelves in the fridge seemed to be rotten, tasteless.

Sukuna's face looked different, touching it made your skin tingle- as if it refused to connect with his.

Maybe it was because the romanticized image of him was losing its shape.

And maybe the fact that he refused to let you go outside.

No more garden work, too harsh for your puzzled mind.

The sun was too hot, even on a cloudy day.

You needed to relax, even after sleeping all day.

It was getting unbearable.

The front door was locked, the back door too. Sukuna was working in the study.

Trapped in your own safe haven, you needed to do something, so why not go down to the basement?

Your husband never said anything about the cold concrete box below the floorboards, knowing you were too scared to go there.

With nothing better to do, his logic was being proved false with every step you took down the squeaky stairs.

You found the light switch, getting a yellow, old hue illuminating the space.

Oh yeah, the freezers were down here.

Two, to be exact. Sukuna liked smoking meat and fish on sunny days, so you knew he used them to keep them frozen.

A little peek wouldn't do you any harm.

So what if your last gander took away your freedom to leave these walls? This was different.

As if.

The sound of the creaking steps had alerted him, no matter how slow you had gone.

Your tainted hands lifted the large hinged lid of the chest.

Just some plastic bags of red meat, parts of a pig, and venison. A large salmon head stared up at you from the side.

The eyes of the dead fish were gouged out.

The lid went back down, now wanting to see if the same contents were in the second one.

You should have stopped with the first one.

At first the same plastic bags stared up at you, what looked like minced meat and animal body parts.

Not that human hand though.

Sawed off from the bicep, a fleshy limb wrapped in the same plastic bag, but oozing crimson from the palm made eye contact with you.

The color drained from your face, doubling over and pulling the dismembered part out, your own arms shaking while looking at the frozen appendage.

Bile churned around in your stomach, a sour, watery taste taking over your mouth.

The stairs were still squeaky, making sound as heavy footsteps rushed down.

"Flower, what are you up to now?"

Once Sukuna's head went low enough from the upper floor, seeing the sight of you holding something you never were supposed to see.

Your hands dropped the bag immediately, clattering to the basement floor, a part of the bag opening, the smell of decayed flesh hit your nose once again.

"My angel, are you trying to get yourself in trouble again. It hurts me to keep you locked away, but if you keep fooling around, i might just keep you in one room and tend to you."

His voice was gruff, trying to sound smooth and caring, but it was clearly impossible to do so.

He tried to reach out to you, blunt nails touching your hair, easing you to step into his embrace. Just like any other time to have you calm down and trap you in his arms till he felt you'd deserve freedom.

His palm crushed your skull into his chest, Sukuna acting like he wanted to infuse you inside of his ribcage.

"Silly thing, must you keep poking your nose in my things?" He cooed into your hair, but you swore you could feel his canines trying to bite into the top of your head.

"We will go upstairs, watch a movie, and forget all about this-"

"No!"

You never spoke against him, so the sudden outburst had Sukuna's grip faltering, you shoved yourself off of him, looking more panicked than ever, not letting him worm his way into your logical thinking.

"Come back, you little…!"

You stumbled back, tripping over the same arm, trying to grab onto the freezer but it did nothing, crashing backwards with a thud.

Thankfully it only gave you a faint dizziness, scrambling up right after.

A tattooed arm wrapped around you, holding you tighter than before. He wouldn't let go now.

"You hit your head, my dear. It's bleeding. Maybe you shook your little brain back into place. I told you, we are forgetting about this and watching a fucking movie."

He dragged you back up the stair by your middle, not caring about you tripping over your own feet, not caring that you were looking at the melting limb on the ground and the image of pooling blood and peeling skin underneath a plastic sheen was the last thing engraved in your mind before the lights got switched off.

He sat you down, giving you a stern glare before disappearing into the bathroom to grab a first aid kit for your bleeding scalp.

The gash was above your bow, it still neatly wrapped into your hair, the thick red seeped into the middle of the ivory lace. Stained worse than before, just a few spots keeping the previous ivory color safe.

His fingers were gentle, parting your hair and cleaning the wound with stinging spirit. Your eyes blankly watched the subtitles flow as some old western movie played on the television.

You didn't dare look up, not wanting to see the cold glaze in his irises, knowing Sukuna wanted nothing but to take away your air and put you to sleep.

You weren't the one slumbering.

The only way you could end this nightmare was to snuff out the source.

It was past midnight, a large, full moon shining trough the tightly shut windows. Your bow hanging on by a few messy locks of hair, a bandaged wrapped around your skull with a red splotch on the back.

A knife, your favourite one to cut up fruit. The one with a pretty handle, engraved with both you and your sleeping husbands initials.

You stood over him, eyes almost bleary while watching Sukuna's peaceful expression. Like the day he asked for your hand, for the day he said he wanted to be yours. The day you bought a house together in the middle of nowhere.

If only you were strong enough, your breathing had turned shaky and bordering on gasping as your hand shook, unable to even process what you were about to do.

The last thing to give away your actions was a droplet, a salty and large teardrop rolling down your cheek and right on to Sukuna's lips.

His eyes shot open as if his senses were on high alert, an arm already reaching out to grab at you.

You didn't know what else to do besides listen to your mind- stumbling back and running as fast as you could.

Almost falling out of the bedroom after shoving the door open.

Sukuna didn't yell for you to get back. He was already chasing after you.

You couldn't hear a single thing, heart too loud in your ears- wanting to leap out of your mouth.

Glass shattered, sharp pain in your palms and legs while climbing trough the kitchen window.

Damp grass padding against your bare soles as you ran for the treeline, unable to breathe.

You don't know how far you ran.

Didn't know how long.

He caught up, he always did.

Why would such a silly girl like you think he had just let you go?

"My petal, where have you gone now? I can hear you."

It felt like he was right behind the tree you had hid, blunt nails digging into the handle of the knife you thankfully hadn't dropped.

You shut your eyes, holding your breath. But that was no use.

"My angel, come out."

Heavy footsteps approached, with no care stepping right past the thick bark of the tree.

A stab to the chest, your hands weak from fear but driven enough to push the blade right to his beating heart, ripping trough muscle.

Too shocked by your own action, the pain from the same type of sharpness slicing trough the side of your throat.

Maybe it was a bit romantic, the last time spent together, in each others arms, spluttering and struggling to breathe, buried in moss with a pale moon not even giving you the ability to see one another bleed out.

Sukuna had never kissed the top of your head as tenderly as right before his last breath.

"I love you."

Not like you could reply, blood filling your lungs and vocal chords sliced.

Already fading out together with the last beat of his heart.

The bow, the lacy thing no longer white, barely even recognizable by how much blood had been spilt.

Yoon's notes: hi guys sorry for the lame ass horror fic

masterlist

art: innaillus on ig

tags: from @yoonchokes

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©yoonsucks

all work belongs to @yoonsucks , do not copy, repost, translate or feed into AI !!

Sae blinks once.

He stares at the interviewer with the same expression he'd wear if someone had asked him why rain falls from the sky.

"She's strange."

The interviewer laughs softly. "Strange?"

Sae nods.

"She dislikes me and I don't know why."

His tone is completely matter-of-fact.

The interviewer chuckles.

"You've never asked?"

"I did."

"What did she say?"

"Nothing useful."

The corners of the crew's mouths twitch.

Sae continues as though he's discussing the weather.

"I've never done anything to her." Another beat. "As far as I remember."

The interviewer covers her mouth, trying not to laugh.

"So... she doesn't hide that she dislikes you?"

"No."

The interviewer finally regains her composure.

"So... do you dislike her?"

He looks vaguely puzzled.

"Why would I?"

The question comes so naturally that it almost catches everyone off guard. He genuinely sounds confused by the suggestion.

The interviewer smiles.

"Well... she doesn't seem very fond of you."

"...That's her decision." He shrugs. "It doesn't bother me."

Then, after a brief silence, he adds quietly,

"She's good to Rin."

The atmosphere shifts almost imperceptibly.

Sae's expression doesn't soften much, but his voice does.

"He laughs more and that's enough."

The interviewer smiles.

"So... you're happy for him?"

"...Yeah." He exhales quietly through his nose. "Football wasn't enough. He needed someone."

Silence settles across the studio.

The interviewer asks gently,

"And... Is she the right person?"

Sae answers without hesitation."Yeah."

The interviewer smiles wider.

"You sound very certain."

Sae sighs quietly.

"I've accepted it."

"You make it sound exhausting."

"It is, but..." He looks directly into the camera. "Rin's happy. So I don't care."

The interviewer smiles warmly.

"Sounds like you've accepted her into the family."

Sae's eyebrow lifts slightly. "I accepted her months ago but it seems like she hasn't accepted me yet."

The entire studio erupts, even the interviewer has to lower her cue cards because she's laughing too hard.

Sae watches everyone with complete indifference.

"I still don't know why she dislikes me."

By the evening... The interview is already everywhere.

You and Rin end up watching it together in the living room.

The television glows softly in front of you while evening sunlight filters through the curtains. Rin sits beside you on the couch, one arm lazily draped around your waist, your back resting comfortably against his chest.

The interview begins.

The moment Sae calmly says, "She's strange." you blink. And then slowly turn toward Rin.

"...Did he just call me strange?"

Rin stares at the television for another second before looking back at you.

"...I think he did."

You gape. "I haven't even done anything."

Rin looks at you. "You glare at him all the time."

You fold your arms.

"That's because he hurt you."

A quiet snort escapes Rin.

Then the interview continues.

"She dislikes me and I don't know why."

Both of you freeze.

You slowly look toward Rin, Rin slowly looks toward you.

"...Why does he sound genuinely confused?"

Rin doesn't answer immediately. His lips twitch.

"...Because he is."

You look at him in disbelief. "Whose side are you on?"

Rin answers without even thinking.

"Sae's."

Your jaw drops.

He finally snorts.

"I mean..." He squeezes your waist gently. "He's telling the truth."

You huff dramatically. "I don't like either of you."

The interview continues and then Sae says, "She's good to Rin." The laughter in the studio fades, so does yours.

Rin's arm tightens instinctively around your waist and neither of you looks away from the television.

"He laughs more and that's what matters."

You feel Rin go completely still behind you, so still that for a moment, you can hear nothing except the interview.

Then—"Football wasn't enough."

Your breath catches.

Rin lowers his head slightly until his forehead rests against your hair.

Neither of you say anything, there isn't really anything to say anyway.

Sae never speaks more than necessary, which somehow makes every word feel heavier.

Then the final line arrives.

"I accepted her months ago but it seems like she hasn't accepted me yet."

The studio bursts into laughter.

You don't, you simply stare at the screen.

"He..."

Rin finishes the sentence quietly." Has accepted you."

You blink several times. "When?"

Rin shrugs."...Probably before either of us noticed."

You let out a small, disbelieving laugh. "I've been preparing arguments every time I see him. And he just..."

Rin finishes your sentence. "...Didn't care."

You bury your face in your hands."Oh my God."

Rin finally laughs.

"I told you."

You peek at him through your fingers. "Told me what?"

"That's just how Sae is."

You groan.

"So I've been fighting an imaginary battle?"

"...Looks like it."

You narrow your eyes. "I'm still not apologizing and I'm still glaring at him."

"Ok?"

"I still don't like him."

"I know." Rin's smile softens.

"But..." He gently takes your hands away from your face. "...You'll still become his family."

You meet his eyes. They're warm, quiet, filled with that unmistakable affection that always seems reserved only for you.

He brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear before resting his forehead against yours.

"...He wouldn't have said any of that if he didn't mean it."

You smile faintly.

Rin studies your face for a long moment before the corner of his lips lifts.

"And..." His thumb strokes your cheek. "...Now everyone knows."

You tilt your head. "Knows what?"

His smile grows just a little.

"...That my brother already considers you family."

Before you can answer, he leans in and kisses you softly.

When he pulls away, your forehead is still resting against his.

His voice drops into a quiet murmur.

"And in a few months..." Another gentle kiss. "...You won't just be my fiancée anymore."

His fingers lace with yours.

"You'll be my wife."

Heat immediately rushes to your face.

Rin watches you blush with obvious satisfaction before letting out the smallest smile.

"...Cute."

You hide your face against his shoulder with an embarrassed groan. "I liked you better when you barely talked."

He presses one last kiss to the top of your head. "...But you're still marrying me."

And despite everything, despite Sae's confusion, your one-sided rivalry and the entire football world teasing the three of you—

It’s only when you squeak and turn around to face him that he remembers why he even went here in the first place. For you, his cute little best friend which he missed oh so dearly.

Seems like she missed him, too.

Because why in the ever living fuck are you straddling a curse that looks just like him?

Which he wants to ask, mouth already parting to ask, but the words die out on his tongue, syllables forgotten completely. Your tits are practically spilling out of your bra—which he gets such a good view of when you’re completely turned around, mortification written all over your face.

“Satoru! You’re here…” you squeak out, not bothering to try and hide your embarrassment. You can feel your face start to burn as you realise the position you’re in right now.

You can see the way he’s eyeing the curse that’s sat beside you on the bed—weirdly enough not moving an inch, only tilting its head slightly as it assesses his… counterpart? “I- uhh- might’ve done something?”

“There is a curse sitting next to you that looks exactly like me, I’m gonna need a little more than that, sweets,” he finally manages to mumble out, still eyeing the curse. If it made so much as one wrong move, he would hollow purple it to oblivion.

He finally steps into your room, closing the door behind him with a final thud that resonates through the uncomfortably silent room. Walking over to your bed, he wraps an hand around your upper arm, dragging you over to where he’s standing.

Startling, you let out a little gasp, almost falling to the side. Your back is pressed against Gojo’s chest. That same chest you’ve eyed way too many times for someone that claims to be just his best friend.

His arms come down to circle around your waist, one of his hand already making the little hand signal for hollow purple in case anything goes wrong. At the same time he places his chin on top of your head. “So, wanna tell me why that’s here?”

Your mind is scrambling to explain the situation—how you even got into this position to begin with—but all you can think about is how one of Satoru’s big hands is splayed over your bare tummy, making your entire mind blank.

“It was an accident,” you begin, picking at your cuticles slightly as you look down. Your bare thighs are staring back up at you. Why the fuck did today of all days have to be the day he walked in?

When you don’t continue, Gojo just hums. His thumb stroking small, soothing circles into your soft skin as he leans down so his lips graze across the shell of your ear. “Really? You’re meaning to tell me you—what, made a curse that looks just like me, all while you’re in your underwear, nearly straddling the thing, just on accident?”

A small mhmm falls from your lips as a shiver shoots down your spine. Satoru’s soft lips grazing the shell of your ear while you look at the curse. Those blue eyes blinking back at you, wandering all over your near-naked form.

“‘Was just trying something out,” you breathe out.

Which is true. You weren’t planning on making a curse, let alone one that looked exactly like your best friend—which is The Strongest sorcerer of today’s age.

You were playing around with the little vials of colors you have stacked under your bed. They weren’t just colors, though. No, these were emotions, negative ones. Not just any negative emotions, but those of Satoru Gojo.

Your cursed technique was as beautiful as it was painful. Being able to see pain—both physical as emotional—in the form of colors is not for the weak.

While it can be beautiful—colors swirling on people’s skin—it can also be painful to look at.

That was exactly what Gojo was to you: painful and beautiful to look at.

His Six Eyes give him constant migraines, strong enough that he has a bright white halo around his head at all times. Think of looking at the sun without any eye protection, but from up close. Or just holding a torch to your eye as you try not to go blind.

Can you imagine it? Yes? Well then, now you know what Gojo looks like to you. A walking mini sun amongst humans.

Luckily you didn’t have to look at it, though. Because you can take someone’s pain away, storing it in different objects or yourself. The former you found out relatively late—only finding out you could do it when you were nineteen years old.

At first, Gojo refused to let you take away his pain, because you would always wince whenever you took it from him. His headache so painful, it was even painful to you, which was saying a lot.

Your pain tolerance is through the roof. Which, yay for you, but also it wasn’t always like that. It took you years of taking other people’s pains before you got kinda numb to most of it. A broken bone felt like a nearly healed bruise to you.

Still, Gojo’s headaches are fucking painful. It has made you wonder more than once how he even wanders through life like that.

It was only when you found out that you could store someone's pain in objects that Gojo let you take his headaches away. Only if you promised to actually store it in something, and not just take it for yourself.

Over the years you’ve collected hundreds of little vials that all were Gojo’s pain. There are more vials, obviously, for combat purposes, but you weren’t interested in those today.

No, when you dragged the little box with vials onto your bed, your hands immediately found the little tubes that were all labeled Gojo.

You could see the actual colors in the vials—bright white for his migraines, light blue for sadness, black for grief, green for jealousy, etc.—where they are completely transparent to anyone else. That, of course, excludes Gojo Satoru.

Of course the fucker could see that there was something in the bottles with his pretty Six Eyes. Clear that there are traces of cursed energy in them. Which is also how he knows you store his pains into the little vials.

One time you tried to be sneaky and take the pain for yourself—give yourself a little cursed energy boost—only for him to get angry with you, asking you why you didn’t do what you promised to do; put the pain in the little vial.

That was the last time you ever tried to take his pain for yourself, even if you were low on cursed energy after a grueling mission.

So, vials it was. They kept stacking up over time, never storing too much pain into them, because god knows what would happen when you did. Honestly, over ninety percent of the bottles were all Gojo’s pain, because you couldn’t stand to look at him and see it all around him.

You also couldn’t see him when he was in pain like that. Like I said, he is like a walking mini sun. So, you wouldn’t be able to see his face if you didn’t take any of his pain away. Not that it mattered much anyway, considering he often times wears his blindfold.

Well, he takes it off when he’s around you, knowing you could just take his pain away if the information ever got too much. Those pretty blue eyes unobstructed by anything.

Which is what you were thinking about when you had woken up. A stupid thought festering in your mind, refusing to let go.

Would you be able to use Gojo’s pain colors to make the color of his eyes?

You were never successful before, his shade of blue was a shade that you simply could not recreate. But… what if you were to use his own color pallette against him? Surely you would be able to get the pretty blue that is your friend’s eyes.

So you got to work, twisting open tens of vials, mixing the pain colors with each other. Bright white turned into a very light shade of blue, into a darker shade of blue that still wasn’t close to his eyes.

It was when you shifted in your bed that everything went wrong.

The vials—all unscrewed—toppled over. Colors only you could see spilled out like paint, seeping into your blanket, finding purchase in the thing. It got all muddy—blues, greens, purples, reds, yellows mixing together.

Before you could even think of putting them up right again, something started happening.

At first it was just the colors forming a small ball inside your blanket. Not alarming enough for you to stop capping the bottles, but enough that it grabbed your attention slightly.

It was only when it got bigger and bigger that you stopped what you were doing, scooting back to where your pillows were.

After only a few seconds, there was something sitting on your bed. Well, no, not something. Your best friend in curse form was sitting there, blinking down at you.

Safe to say a small scream tore from your throat, ready to exorcise the thing right then and there.

But… it looked kinda cute. Plus, it wasn’t immediately attacking you! Which was a good thing… right? So you let it stay.

It was insane, it really was. But it was also kinda fascinating with how accurate it looked like Satoru. Everything you could see was the same—except for the literal six eyes on its head.

Which led you to your current predicament.

“What could you have possibly wanted to try out that resulted in this?” Gojo asks you, eyes not once leaving the curse that is sitting on your bed, completely unbothered. “Does it matter? All I know that it’s here right now.”

The white-haired man behind you just rolls his eyes at that. Leaning forward, he waves his hand in front of the curse’s face a few times. “Why is it just sitting there, though?”

“It doesn’t react to anything.” To prove your point, you lean forward yourself, much to Satoru’s dismay who immediately tightens his hold on you, and poke the curse. True to your word, it doesn’t react to being touched. No twitch, no extra blink, not even a tilt of its head. “See? No reaction.”

“That’s very hard to believe. Having such a pretty girl sitting in front of me nearly naked, I surely would react,” Gojo murmurs. Wide eyed, you look at him over your shoulder—noses almost touching from the proximity. Surely he didn’t mean it like that, did he? But then you feel it—that bulge pressing into your back. “Oh, would you look at that. Seems like even curses can’t help but react.”

The curse is eyeing the way your thighs are pressing together, the way your mouth is slightly parted with shock, the way your tits are sitting in your bra. All three sets of eyes trained on a different part of you.

For a second, it makes Satoru jealous. Jealous that the curse can technically see all of you at once. Its eyes practically devouring you while you look between the two—sorcerer and curse.

But he has something the curse doesn’t: the Six Eyes. Yes, it has six eyes, but not the Six Eyes. Which means it can’t see the way your panties are starting to cling to your folds, despite having your thighs pressed together.

Another thing the curse also doesn’t have, but Gojo does, is have its hands on you. Because his palm is still resting on your tummy, the smooth expanse of your skin underneath his fingertips. It can’t feel the way you’re slightly squirming.

Still, the thing does not move anything other than its eyes. Hands laying limp beside it, cock throbbing in its confines, but doing nothing to hide or alleviate it.

“Wanna see if we can make it react even more?”

Which is how you ended up here—with Satoru, your best friend, sitting behind you. His long legs trapping you between them, your own legs hooked over his, panties pushed to the side so the curse has a full view of your puffy, glistening folds while Gojo’s fingers are plunging in and out of your cunt.

Your nails dig into Satoru’s forearm, leaving behind angry crescents in their wake. Toes curling as you throw your head back with a slight whine.

“Uh-uh. C’mon, sweetheart, eyes on the curse,” Satoru tuts, fingers stilling until you lift your head enough to look at the curse. Once he sees you look at the thing again, he continues. “There we go, such a good girl for me.”

The praise makes your stomach do a little flip, the words going straight to your core. Your walls clamp down on Satoru’s fingers, having him grin behind you.

His other hand trails up from your stomach to your bra-covered tits. Now that won’t do, will it? With a little tug of his hand, he undoes the clasp with ease—a skill you didn’t know he possessed, nor wanted to know to be quite frank.

It’s when your tits are in full view for both men—if you can even call the curse that—that there is slight movement from the one in front of you.

The curse doesn’t do anything wild, just slightly shifts where it’s sat, but it’s the most it has done since it appeared—or rather formed. Its pupils from the top pair of eyes expand even more, but not as much as the lower pair of eyes, which are still focused completely on your pussy.

It might not be much, but it is a small step in the right direction.

That thought immediately flies out the window when Satoru’s digits graze over a spot inside of you. Your back arches with the touch, a moan ripping from the back of your throat as your hand clamps down even further onto his forearm. “O-oh shit.”

From there on out you can only think about the way Gojo moves his fingers inside of you, bullying your g-spot with those long, thick fingers of his.

And if that wasn’t enough already, his other hand has started to grope one of your tits, squishing the flesh between his fingers before he starts caressing your nipple, nail grazing over the little nub, before he rolls it between his fingers.

Your head falls back onto his shoulder, looking at him instead of the curse. He doesn’t scold you this time, just keeps at it as he looks at you. “Nawhhh, doing so good for me.”

You don’t even hear the condescending undertone in his voice, way too focused on the pleasure that’s shooting through you right now.

When you don’t reply, Gojo stops playing with your nipple. Instead bringing that same hand up to cup your jaw, tilting it so you have direct view of him already looking down at you. “Feeling good, sweetheart?” When you nod your head, he just chuckles. “Thought so.”

Your thighs are starting to shake on top of his, sweat starting to break out on your forehead as you teeter closer to the edge with each pump of his fingers.

Seems like he knows it too, judging from his smirk. He keeps your head tilted up, eyes flicking from your own down to your lips and back up to your eyes again. Just like the curse, Gojo’s pupils are blown out, a small ring of blue left behind.

“C’mon, show it how pretty you look when you fall apart on my fingers.” And you do just that. Eyes rolling to the back of your skull as your hips buck wildly, to the point where he lets go of your jaw in favor to press your hips down, keeping you flush against him.

After riding out your high, Gojo removes his fingers from your cunt. A small whine slipping from your lips as he purposefully lets his fingers glide through your messy slit.

You’re panting against Satoru’s shoulder, breath ghosting over his neck as you come down from your high. Nuzzling further into his broad frame, you let yourself relax slightly as Satoru rubs soothing circles into your hip.

“You two done yet?” Well that certainly grabs both your attention. Heads snapping to the sound of the voice, you’re met with the curse grinning.

Of course its voice sounds exactly like Gojo’s, but it still throws you for a loop—especially considering the fact that same voice just talked you through it, told you how good you were taking his fingers, how pretty you looked when cumming.

“You—” You have to swallow once, twice before getting your voice back to its steady octave. “You can talk?”

“Of course I can, who do you take me for?” Gojo the curse replies, tilting its head slightly. Those white bangs fall across his forehead, covering one of its eyes before it pushes the hair back with its hand; the first actual movement you’ve seen from the thing.

You sit up fully now—still in your naked glory, not even bothering to cover up considering it has already seen you get split open of your best friend’s fingers. Said best friend doesn’t share that same sentiment, though. He covers your boobs up with his hands, his legs trapping yours between his so he can keep them close for you as he glares at the curse over your shoulder.

It just makes the curse chuckle. Yes, it chuckles at his counterpart’s antics. “Oh? Now you cover her up? Weren’t you the one who suggested doing all of this to begin with?” It vaguely gestures towards you when it says ‘this’.

Gojo just rolls his eyes, pulling you further into his chest. “Yeah well, show’s over. You can turn those ugly eyes away now.”

“These are the same eyes as yours, so you’re really only insulting yourself,” it immediate counters, crossing its arms over its chest.

Gojo opens his mouth to say something back. Probably a jab at the fact that the curse and him don’t share the same eyes for he has the Six Eyes and not six eyes, when you speak up first.

“Wait. Wait wait wait, you can talk and move and who knows what else,” you begin, looking the curse over that’s starting to get more animated by the second. It immediately snaps its mouth shut, those bright blue orbs blinking down at you. “But I asked you if you could talk or even move, so why didn’t you before?”

Because you did ask it if it could do anything except for just sitting lifelessly there. At first you thought it might not have been able to understand you when it didn’t so much as reply to you, its eyes merely following your movement. But it also didn’t react when you started poking it.

The curse only grins, those pearly whites on full display as one set of eyes crinkle with the motion. …Fucking odd to look at, if you’re going to be completely honest. “You only asked rhetorical questions: ‘Can it even talk?’ If you had just asked me, I might’ve given you an answer.”

Your mouth falls open at that. So it didn’t answer you because it was a rhetorical question instead of a normal one? What the actual fuck is wrong with this thing—other than it being a curse, obviously.

“I- you- eughhh. Okay, so you didn’t reply to my question because it was rhetorical. Fine, whatever. But why didn’t you react when I was touching you?”

There is a faint undignified noise from behind you. Satoru’s grip immediately tightens, keeping you closer to his body. So close, that he’s practically squishing you against his chest now, glaring even harder at the curse that’s just fucking grinning at him.

Sure, he walked in on you almost straddling said curse that looks just like him, but the way you said you touched it makes his mind race in directions he’d rather not go down.

Before you can even try to turn your head to raise a brow at your best friend, the curse chuckles. “You should listen better to him—” It nods towards Satoru, “—I was just enjoying having such a pretty girl touch me, especially when she was almost naked, crawling onto my lap—”

“All right, that’s quite enough,” Gojo growls from behind you, cutting the curse off before it can spill even more about whatever fantasies it came up with whilst the two of you were alone. “It’s time for you to go.”

“Seems like she doesn’t want me to go, though.” The curse nods at you, white hair bouncing with the motion.

And only a few minutes later, you’re bouncing uuuup and down Satoru’s ridiculously large cock. Your own hair swaying with the motion as your boobs bounce each time you lift your hips, only to drop down a second later.

The curse—who much to Satoru’s dismay is still here, breathing and touching you—stands in front of you in its own naked glory. Unfortunately for your brain, it couldn’t help but notice how much it looks like Gojo, from the biceps to the abs all the way to the way its cock almost matches Gojo’s in size.

The only difference between the two is that the curse somehow is clean-shaven while the man below you is neatly trimmed.

Your lips are wrapped around the curse’s cock head, tongue lapping at the slit which is spilling pre on your tongue. The taste extremely bitter—and you can’t help but wonder if it’s because it’s a curse or if it has to do with something else.

Oh well.

Gojo’s hands are clamped around your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he helps you bounce on his shaft.

He wasn’t happy with the arrangement, rather wanting to just exorcise the curse and maybe—if you were still willing to—fuck your brains out with his cock this time. But you had told him you wanted to see what the curse could do. So, with much reluctance, he let it stay.

The only thing he had said that it would only get your mouth, and nothing more, claiming your cunt for himself.

So here the three of you are; you getting bullied on two cocks that you would never even think of getting fucked by. One of your hands gripping the curse’s thigh to steady yourself, while the other jerks off whatever can’t fit in your mouth.

Your cheeks hollow out when you suck a little harder, having the curse groan out. Its hips twitch as one of its hands find purchase in your hair, not pulling or pushing on it, just holding himself onto it.

That, of course, doesn’t go unnoticed by the white-haired sorcerer beneath you. A glare covering his face as he looks at the hand that’s on your head. The hand that shouldn’t exist in the first place.

Fuck, he can’t believe a stupid curse gets to have your mouth before him—that a curse gets to have you at all. He’s right here! He would gladly use your mouth if you were to ever ask him. Those lips stretching around his girth as you fail to fit him completely in your mouth, drool spilling form the corners of your mouth as you look up with tears in your eyes.

Well, whatever. He can always use that mouth of your next time, erase the fact that something foreign was in there to begin with. No matter the fact that the curse looks just like him.

Holding you up, he starts pistoning his hips into yours. The sharp thwack thwack thwack of his pelvis hitting your ass echoing through the room as his balls continue to hit your clit.

The change in pace has you gasping out, mouth detaching from the cock that was currently occupying your mouth with a loud pop! Much to your surprise, it whines at the loss of touch the moment your lips leave his cock. Not that you can focus much on that when Satoru is fucking up into you like he’s possessed.“F-fuck, Satoru, right there!”

“That’s it, pretty. Say my name again, c’mon,” he grunts out. Much to the curse’s dismay—and Gojo’s own satisfaction—you do just that, blabbing ‘Satoru, Satoru, Toru’ over and over again, completely forgetting about the other presence in the room.

That is, until it announces its presence to you by tapping his cock on your lips, smearing some pre on them. Opening your mouth, you stick out your tongue slightly. The curse, not one to waste any time, immediately slides in.

“Taking me so well. You can do better than that, though, can’t you? C’mon, lemme feel that throat of yours,” the curse encourages you this time. The sound of its voice has you all the more delirious. Fuck, why did they have to sound the exact same?

Your walls clamp down onto Satoru’s shaft when you hear the voice. That obviously won’t do in his eyes. So he lifts you completely from his cock, the emptiness having you whine out.

That doesn’t last long, though. Satoru moving the two of you around until you’re on your hands and knees, pressing a palm onto your spine to make a mean arch, before he slips back inside of you with one swift thrust.

“There we go, much better like this,” he whispers. Both of his hands are palming the fat of your ass, watching the way it jiggles every time he drives his hips forward, bottoming out with each mean thrust.

The curse merely rolls his eyes—all six of them—before he starts driving his hips forward at the same time as Gojo’s thrusts, his balls slapping against your chin each time. The tip hitting the back of your throat, making you gag around it.

“Open that pretty throat of yours. Know you can do it,” it encourages you, cupping your jaw as it thumbs away a stray tear that started to fall. You do as told, relaxing your throat so it can slip even further into your mouth, smooth pelvis nearly touching your nose. “So pretty like this, sucking my cock, hmmm?”

“Stop talking to her like that,” Satoru snaps from behind you, finally lifting his head to glare at the curse who only smirks back at the agitated white-haired man. “What, you mean like this? So pretty for me, aren’t you, sweetheart.”

You can only nod your head, a small mhmmm falling from your lips as your teary gaze travels up to those blue eyes looking down at you. Your brain long gone, not even bothering to make a distinction between the two anymore.

There’s a small noise in the back of Satoru’s throat that almost sounds like a growl. This time, instead of saying anything, he just lets one of his hands circle to your poor oversensitive clit, giving it a few slaps before circling the bundle of nerves.

It has your entire body jolting and twitching, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as you’re starting to get closer and closer to the edge.

“Why don’t you cum for me, sweets?” Satoru whispers into your ear, his entire frame bending forward to press against your back, letting you feel all of him. He grinds his hips into yours, letting his tip graze against your cervix as you still try to suck onto the girth that’s filling your mouth.

It’s all too much—too many sets of eyes looking at you, too much cock filling you, and too much pleasure.

So it’s to no ones surprise when you cum with a cry. “Oh fuck, thaaat’s it. Trying to milk me dry, huh?” The man behind you mumbles when he feels your walls contract around him, thrust turning more sloppy by the second.

The cursed spirit in front of you groans, letting his head fall back as his eyes—yes, all of them—roll to the back of his skull. Milky seed coats your throat and mouth without so much as a warning, most of it spilling from your lips as you try to swallow it all down—something you’ll get scolded for by Gojo later.

Said guy isn’t far behind himself, pulling out of you with much reluctance, he pumps himself a few times before his own cum covers your ass and lower back.

Of course the silence doesn’t last long, the curse speaking up this time. “For someone who denies me that pretty pussy, you didn’t even make her squirt. A pathetic performance, really.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll show you a pathetic performance in a second.”

Seems like you have a long night day ahead of you.

Tags: @yoonsucks @etheralpanic @lilithkleia @dollieadored @starsforvia @iinvivible @saniiaa @marisacosm @tojiphoria @yorikae @yoniknows @yagirljelliedkiki @pingui0i @serpenttine @seueuq @galinathepanda @sunnyfieldsz @litlili127 @melancholicreaper @magicalpeenpoo @kamislop @mimicosmos8 @deans-bonnie @mousedit @sugurusbadhabit @cactusvolumes @secretsofchance @lilslovesaizawa @satorusdollie @kcandy-flosz @coveexxx @tangypomegranate @suganoms @tamsysnumber1simp

Every muscle seizes at once, like his nerves have been hijacked, like someone flipped a switch inside him and turned him off. His boots scrape uselessly against the pavement as dizziness slams into him hard enough to make his vision tilt. 

What type of fucking quirk was he hit with?

Paralysis? Poison? Some kind of suppression quirk?

Fuck.

The main villain has a quirk that tears through defenses, the other with a reverse gravity quirk but there was one still lurking—one with an unknown ability that just struck him—and he has absolutely no fucking idea what it’s doing to his body. 

He only knows his muscles have locked, his limbs won’t obey, and he cannot spark his quirk no matter how hard he tries. Panic claws up his spine, ugly and feral, because he knows what this battlefield is like and he knows what villains do when they spot a weakness. And right now, he’s a liability.

What if they notice he’s down? What if the others—especially the unknown one that just hit him—go for you next? What if he’s stuck here, frozen and useless, while someone lays a hand on you? 

The thought makes his vision blur white around the edges, rage and terror boiling so violently it almost cuts through the pain, because he can feel himself being broken from the inside and all he can think is you, you, you.

A high pitched ringing floods Bakugo’s head, drowning out explosions, shouting, everything but the sound of his own pulse. His head tips back without his permission, teeth clenched so hard his jaw throbs. He refuses to fall, refuses to give them that.

No.

Not like this.

He might feel like he’s dying right now, body betraying him, but he’ll be fucking damned if he lets that be the end.

He clenches his fists so hard his nails split skin, sharp pain blooming in his palms as he tries to force his quirk to answer him. Anything. A spark. A flicker. He thinks of you like a prayer he is screaming into the void, again and again, your name beating against his skull in time with his heart. He thinks of surviving. He thinks of standing up. He thinks of getting back to you.

Please. Please. Please.

Time stretches until it feels wrong, thick and suffocating, like he is drowning upright. His lungs burn. His vision swims. And then something snaps.

The screaming starts.

It’s a raw sound tearing itself apart on the way out, and Bakugo knows that sound before his brain can catch up. His eyes fly open so hard it hurts, tears stinging instantly as his body is fucking finally wrenched free from whatever trance it was locked inside.

The battlefield reforms around him.

The villain stands a few feet away.

And you are in his arms.

For a split second, Bakugo’s mind flat out rejects it as he desperately tries to rearrange the image into something that makes sense, he tries to fix the picture or even swap you for someone else. Anyone else. 

Except it’s really you. The villain has you in his arms and Bakugo can do nothing about it.

The villain’s fingers dig into your jaw, cruel and possessive, forcing your head back. Your hands claw weakly at his wrist, boots scraping uselessly against the pavement.

“No,” Bakugo says, or tries to. It comes out shredded, swallowed by the ringing still screaming inside his skull. “Put her down,” he chokes. “Put her the fuck down.”

He tries to move. His legs buckle. His quirk sputters uselessly, a dead thing in his veins. Panic detonates in his chest so violently he thinks it might split him in half.

The blade starts dragging.

Bakugo watches it happen in slow, merciless detail. The metal presses in, dimpling skin for half a second before dragging. Blood spills immediately, hot and dark, soaking through your costume, pouring down your chest, splattering onto the ground in thick, obscene drops that look impossibly loud.

“No,” he gasps, stumbling forward on useless legs. “No no no no—wait—wait—fuck, please—”

Your mouth opens like you are trying to say his name.

Nothing comes out.

“Don’t,” he begs, panic slurring his words. “Please don’t. I’m right here. I’m right fuckin’ here! Take me, not her!”

The villain lets you drop like discarded trash, your body hitting the ground with a loud thud, your head rolling away into the dirt like it never belonged there in the first place. Bakugo can’t stop staring at how still you are, how your chest doesn’t rise, how there’s so much blood.

He lunges.

Or tries to, except nothing happens.

His legs lock up completely, knees shaking so hard they almost give out. His hands jerk at his sides, sparks sputtering uselessly, his quirk dead and silent like it abandoned him too. His heart slams against his ribs so violently it hurts.

“Move,” he snarls at himself, teeth clenched so tight his jaw aches. “Move, you piece of shit. Fuckin’ move!”

The villain laughs loudly at him. 

“Too late,” he says, already fading, his body dissolving into black smoke. 

“No!” Bakugo screams, the sound cracking straight down the middle. “Get back here. Get the fuck back here. I’ll kill you. I’ll tear you apart. I swear to god I’ll rip you fuckin’ limb from limb.”

The villain disappears completely.

Bakugo barely registers it as he runs towards your fallen body and drops to the ground.

The scream that tears out of him does not sound human. It rips straight from his chest, raw and ruined. He slams to his knees beside you so hard it rattles his bones, gravel biting into his skin as his hands hover uselessly over your body.

His hands press to you, frantic and clumsy, smearing blood everywhere. His palms come away slick and red and there is so much of it that his vision swims.

So much red.

“Oh god,” he sobs, breath shuddering violently. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. There’s so much blood. Why is there so much fuckin’ blood?!”

He presses harder, hands trembling as if pressure alone might undo what just happened, like he can shove life back into you by force.

“Breathe—shit, please,” he begs, forehead dropping to your chest. “Please breathe. C’mon. C’mon, baby. You’re strong. You always get up. You always get back up, okay. Please.”

He sparks again, desperately, blindly, explosions popping uselessly around his palms.

“I’ll blow the whole fucking field apart,” he cries. “I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll quit. I’ll stay home. I won’t fight anymore. Just wake up, baby.”

His hands come away slick and red and he loses it.

A broken, hysterical sound tears out of his chest as he collapses over you, gripping your uniform in his fists like he’s drowning.

“Please,” he sobs into the dirt. “I can’t lose you. I can’t fucking do this again.”

His forehead presses into the ground beside your shoulder, body shaking uncontrollably.

“You can’t fucking die on me, you brat,” he whispers frantically. “I swear I’ll protect you. I won’t hesitate. I’ll kill anyone who looks at you wrong. Just don’t be gone.”

His voice drops to a hoarse, broken whisper.

“Don’t leave me alone,” he begs. “Please.”

***

The battlefield is chaotic when it happens.

Smoke, fire, ice splintering the ground, pros shouting orders you can barely hear over the roar in your ears. You spot Katsuki across the street just in time to see him stiffen, eyes rolling back as his body goes eerily still.

“Katsuki!” you yell, already moving.

You sprint for him, dodging debris, heart slamming against your ribs hard enough it hurts. Shoto and Midoriya surge past you toward the villain, Aizawa snapping his capture weapon through the air as he shouts something you don’t catch.

You grab Katsuki by the arms.

He is rigid and completely unresponsive.

“Katsuki?” you say again, panic clawing up your throat as you shake him. “Hey—hey, look at me. What’s happening to you? Katsuki, please.”

His eyes are open but empty, staring straight through you like you are not even there.

Your grip tightens as your vision blurs. “Please wake up,” you sob, words tumbling over each other. “Please. Oh my god, please. Bakugo, look at me. You’re scaring me! Please.”

He doesn’t move.

Behind you, someone screams.

You turn just in time to see the villain tear free of Shoto’s ice, black mist already curling up his arm as he looks straight at you. Your stomach drops. You barely have time to shove yourself in front of Katsuki before he raises his hand.

The mist engulfs you.

It is cold and burning all at once, sinking into your skin like ink, and the world tilts violently as the sound cuts out.

Your last thought before everything goes dark is his name, tearing through you as you’re suddenly locked out in a trance.

-

-

-

Your eyes open to silence.

You suck in a sharp breath and push yourself upright, heart already racing as your gaze snaps around in frantic, searching sweeps.

“Bakugo!” you call, voice echoing too loudly. 

Nothing answers.

A cold dread slides down your spine as you stagger to your feet. Just moments ago the street had been alive with motion, heroes shouting, quirks detonating, concrete shattering beneath ice and smoke. Now the city looks abandoned, buildings gutted and split open, cars overturned and burning low, ash drifting through the air like dirty snow.

“Katsuki?” you try again, louder now using his name, desperation creeping into your voice. “Where are you?”

Your breath fogs in front of you, the air suddenly icy against your skin. That is when you hear it.

At the far end of the street, the wreckage rises like a burial mound, concrete slabs crushed together and metal spears jutting at every angle, cars folded into themselves, smoke drifting through the air, and your body moves before your mind can argue, boots slipping on glass and oil and blood as you run, lungs screaming, heart hammering so violently it makes your vision pulse.

The smell hits you halfway there.

Blood, sharp and metallic, layered over burned fabric and scorched flesh, and bile floods your throat as you stumble to a stop.

Bodies are everywhere.

They are crushed beneath rubble, impaled through the torso by twisted rebar, half buried with limbs sticking out at angles that make your head swim, fingers broken backward, bone split through skin, faces frozen mid terror and half erased by debris, and your hands curl uselessly at your sides as your breath starts to come too fast and too shallow.

A familiar strip of fabric catches your eye and your knees nearly give out.

Aizawa’s capture scarf is tangled around a broken beam, stretched tight like it tried to drag him free, soaked so thoroughly with blood it looks black.

“No,” you whisper, the word barely surviving your throat. “No, no, no.”

Your gaze keeps moving no matter how hard you try to stop it.

Shoto’s hero suit peeks out from beneath cracked concrete, white fabric stained dark red and brown, his arm bent wrong at the elbow, fingers curled like they froze mid reach. 

Farther back you see green fabric burned and shredded beyond recognition. Midoriya’s costume scattered in pieces, his mask warped and melted, a single glove lying empty on the street like something discarded without thought.

Everyone you’ve ever loved lies there dead in a pile.

Your gaze keeps moving, frantic and unwilling, until it lands on him.

Katsuki lies a few feet away from the pile, his body twisted on the asphalt like he was thrown there without a second thought. He is still breathing, shallow and wet, soft whimpers slipping past his lips with each broken inhale.

You don’t remember hitting the ground. You just know you are suddenly there, knees slamming into the street so hard it hurts, hands shaking as they hover uselessly over him.

He is covered in blood.

Too much blood.

Stab wounds tear across his torso and arms, fabric shredded and stuck to skin, some shallow and angry, others deep enough that you can see muscle split open beneath them, and bullet holes pepper his side and stomach, dark and leaking steadily, the blood pooling beneath him and spreading outward, soaking into the cracked pavement.

Your hands shake violently as cold creeps into your fingers.

You don’t want to touch him.

You have to touch him.

Then you see it.

A thick metal rod juts straight through the center of his chest, driven clean through him, pinning him to the ground like an insect. Blood bubbles weakly around the entry wound every time he tries to breathe.

“Oh my god,” you sob, hands finally finding him, pressing uselessly against his chest, his shoulders, anywhere you can reach. 

“Help is coming,” you sob even as the street stretches empty around you. “I promise, I promise it is, just don’t let go, just stay, okay.”

His eyes flutter open, unfocused and glassy, struggling to find you. His mouth moves, blood staining his teeth as he drags in a rattling breath. 

“Quit—quit cryin’.” he rasps, the words barely there. “M’right here.” 

You shake your head violently, tears spilling down your face as your hands clutch his, fingers numb with cold and fear. “Don’t talk, don’t move, please, Katsuki, please don’t leave me, I can’t— can’t do this without you, I can’t.”

His fingers twitch weakly around yours, grip faltering. “Always… makin’ a mess.”  he breathes, a ghost of his usual bite slipping through. 

His breathing stutters. His eyes lose focus, staring past you into nothing.

“Katsuki…” you choke, shaking him gently, then harder. “No. No, look at me. Look at me!”

His hand slips from yours.

You press two fingers to his neck, panic screaming through your veins as you search for a pulse that never comes. His chest goes still. The whimpers stop.

He is gone.

Your scream tears through the empty street, raw and animal, ripping itself out of your throat until your voice breaks. You cling to his body, rocking back and forth as sobs wrack you, blood soaking into your clothes as you cling to him like you can somehow force him back into existence.

Footsteps crunch behind you.

You whirl around, vision blurred with tears, fury igniting through the grief as the villain approaches, black mist coiling around his limbs like a living thing. You snarl and try to rise, ready to throw yourself at him with everything you have left.

The mist slams into you, pinning you in place, crushing your chest until you can barely breathe.

You scream and thrash uselessly as he laughs, the sound echoing and cruel.

“Look at you,” he taunts, circling slowly. “So helpless. Everyone you love is dead, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

Darkness takes you hard and fast.

You barely have time to register the movement before pain explodes at the side of your head, white and blinding, and the world cuts out like a switch flipped.

***

When you wake up, the light is the first thing that hits you.

It is painfully bright, glaring straight down from above, bleaching your vision until tears sting behind your eyes and you have to squeeze them shut again. Your head throbs in time with your heartbeat, every pulse sharp and insistent, and for a few seconds all you can do is lie there and breathe through the ache.

Then the sound reaches you.

A steady, rhythmic mechanical beeping cutting through the fog in your head.

You turn your head slowly, neck stiff and sore, and your eyes land on the heart monitor beside the bed, green lines spiking and dipping in an even pattern. Tubes snake from your arm, an IV taped in place, and the sterile smell finally clicks; you’re in the hospital.

The realization settles in your chest, and then everything else crashes back in all at once.

The bodies. The blood. Katsuki in your arms, broken and bleeding, his eyes going empty while you begged him not to leave. The villain’s laughter ringing in your ears as the world ended around you.

You gasp sharply and jerk upright with a broken cry, hands flying to your chest as the monitor explodes into frantic, rapid beeping. Panic floods you, hot and suffocating, and you claw at the IV lines without thinking, yanking at the tape as tears spill down your face.

“No, no, no,” you sob, fingers shaking violently as they fumble for the IV, ripping at the tape without thinking. “I survived. I survived and everyone’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead, he’s—”

Your breath stutters and catches completely, chest heaving uselessly as black spots swarm the edges of your vision.

The door slams open.

“Hey, stop, stop, easy,” a voice snaps urgently as two nurses rush in, hands closing around your wrists, trying to keep you from tearing the lines free. You thrash weakly, panic lending you strength and stealing it at the same time, tears streaming down your face as your lungs refuse to work right.

“I have to go,” you choke, words tumbling over each other. “Please, I have to see him, I have to, he can’t be alone, I can’t—I can’t breathe—”

A familiar hand settles on your shoulder.

“Look at me,” Aizawa says, his voice low and steady in a way that refuses to bend to your panic. “You’re in a hospital. You’re safe right now.”

The nurses work quickly, reattaching the IV, adjusting the monitor as you shake beneath their hands. You sob uncontrollably, fingers curling into the sheets as the panic slowly loosens its grip enough for you to actually see him.

Really see him.

You stare at Aizawa, mouth parted, chest hitching. He is standing there. Breathing and uninjured except for bandages and exhaustion etched deep into his face.

“You,” you whisper hoarsely. “You’re… alive?”

He pauses, glancing briefly at the nurses before looking back at you. “Yes,” he says quietly. “I am.”

Your hands won’t stop shaking.

The blanket is twisted tight in your fists, knuckles white, chest hitching like you forgot how to breathe properly. Your eyes burn. Your throat feels raw, scraped empty from screaming yourself awake.

“How,” you choke out. “How is this possible? I saw you. I saw everyone. You were all there and then you were all…”  Your voice breaks completely. You swallow hard, trying again. “You were all dead.”

He pulls a chair closer and sits, resting his elbows on his knees. “It wasn’t real,” he says, voice low and steady. “None of it was.”

You shake your head immediately, too fast, too desperate. “No. Don’t lie to me. I felt it. I felt his blood on my hands. I felt his pulse stop.”

“I know,” Aizawa replies gently. “That’s exactly why the quirk is so dangerous.”

Your stomach twists, nausea rolling through you as he continues.

“The villain you encountered has a hallucinatory quirk,” he explains. “When activated, it forces the target to experience their deepest fear. Not just see it, but also live it. Your brain doesn’t know the difference, so it fills in every detail; sound, touch, pain, even loss.”

Your breathing comes in broken gasps, each inhale sharp and shaky, your body trembling like it does not trust his words.

“You need to breathe with me,” he tries to calm your panic, unflinching. “In through your nose. Slow. Out through your mouth. You’re spiraling.”

You try, even as your chest rebels, breath stuttering and uneven, tears dripping down onto the sheets.

“I can’t,” you whisper hoarsely. “I can’t stop seeing it.”

“I know,” he repeats, softer now. “But you’re not there anymore.”

The door opens again, more carefully this time, and a familiar, hesitant voice slips into the room.

“Um,” Midoriya says, and your head snaps toward the sound like you’ve been struck.

He stands just inside the doorway, arm in a sling, face pale and drawn, eyes red-rimmed like he has been crying for hours, but very much alive. He freezes when he sees you sitting up, shaking and surrounded by nurses.

“Oh, you’re awake,” he says, voice breaking slightly. “I-I was worried I missed it.”

Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out at first. Your chest tightens again, panic threatening to surge back, and a strangled noise slips out of you.

“You’re not..?”

Midoriya shakes his head quickly, stepping closer. “N-no. I am okay! We all are. Bakugo, too. He’s hurt, but he’s alive, I promise. He kept asking about you.”

Alive.

Your hands clutch the blanket as your shoulders fold inward, a sob tearing out of you so violently it makes your whole body shake. The nurses ease their grip as your panic shifts into something rawer, grief and relief crashing together until you can barely stay upright.

Aizawa steadies you again. “There it is,” he murmurs. “That’s the truth.”

Midoriya hovers awkwardly at the side of the bed, eyes shining. “I thought… I thought we lost you,” he admits quietly. “When they brought you in, you weren’t waking up and I just—”

You shake your head weakly, tears still falling as your breathing finally starts to slow, uneven but real. “I thought you were all gone,” you whisper. “I watched it happen.”

Aizawa exhales slowly. “We’re all okay, no one is hurt, and you’re safe,” he says. “That’s what matters right now.”

You nod faintly, exhaustion crashing over you as the adrenaline drains, your body finally realizing it is no longer in danger, even if your mind is still catching up.

“I need to see him,” you say, voice shaking but fierce, the words scraping their way out of your throat. “Right now. I need to see him breathing. I need to see him.”

Before anyone can stop you, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, heart slamming wildly against your ribs as dizziness washes over you.

Aizawa’s hand comes out immediately, firm but careful as he stops you. “You can’t.”

You snap your head up, panic flaring sharp and sudden. “Why?” you demand, breath hitching. “Why not?”

Midoriya stiffens beside the bed, eyes flicking to Aizawa, then back to you, his hands twisting together nervously. “Bakugo woke up before you.”

Your stomach drops.

“And the first thing he saw,” Aizawa continues, “was an empty bed.”

Your chest tightens painfully, the air feeling too thin again.

“We told him you were in surgery,” he says. “But the quirk hadn’t fully worn off yet. He thought…” Aizawa pauses, jaw tightening. “He thought you were dead.”

Midoriya steps closer without thinking, voice cracking as he adds quietly, “He was really scared. I’ve never seen him like that. He kept asking where you were, and he even exploded the heart monitor when the nurses tried to calm him down.”

Your vision blurs, tears burning hot and fast.

“He panicked,” Aizawa says. “Tried to use his quirk. Tore his stitches and nearly reopened internal injuries. We had to restrain him before he hurt himself worse.”

You shake your head helplessly, a soft, shattered sound slipping out of you. “He thought I was gone?” you whisper, the words barely holding together.

“He didn’t believe us when we said you were alive. He just kept screaming that we were lying.” Midoriya says, swallowing hard.

Your throat closes completely.

“So we sedated him,” Aizawa finishes. “For his safety. And yours.”

Tears spill freely now, silent and unstoppable as they track down your cheeks and into your hair. “I should be with him,” you whisper. “He shouldn’t wake up alone. He shouldn’t ever think I left him like that.”

“You won’t,” Aizawa says immediately. “He’s in the room next to yours. Medical staff are with him at all times.”

Midoriya nods quickly. “I stayed until they made me leave,” he adds. “He’s not alone. I promise.”

“When he wakes up,” Aizawa says, stepping back toward the door, “we’ll explain everything. And then you can see him.”

You nod shakily, wiping at your face with the back of your hand, your voice barely holding steady. “Okay. Okay. I can wait.”

Then, quieter, almost breaking, “Please don’t let him wake up thinking I’m gone.”

Aizawa pauses with his hand on the door. “I won’t,” he says. “I promise.”

You sink back against the pillows, body trembling as the weight of it all finally settles. Katsuki is alive. You are alive. The nightmare is over, even if the fear still clings to you like smoke.

Sleep takes you before you realize it has, exhaustion pulling you under like a tide you no longer have the strength to fight.

***

You do not know how long you have been out when the sound hits.

An explosion cracks through the air somewhere down the hall, rattling the walls hard enough to jolt you awake with a gasp. Your heart leaps straight into your throat as the echo fades, replaced almost immediately by shouting. Nurses calling for help. Footsteps running. Alarms begin to scream.

Aizawa jerks awake in the chair beside your bed, already on his feet.

“Stay here!” he says sharply, already moving for the door. “Do not get up.”

The door swings shut behind him.

Your chest is tight, breath coming fast and shallow as you sit there, staring at the wall. The sound of the blast is still ringing in your ears, familiar in a way that makes your stomach drop.

That sounded like him.

He is alive. He is okay. He is not hurt. Nothing is wrong. 

You repeat it to yourself like a mantra, but the noise outside only grows louder, more frantic. Someone yells Bakugo’s name and the word hits you like a punch to the ribs.

Your hands shake as you throw the blanket aside.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed and stand, dizziness washing over you hard enough that you have to grab the rail. You barely notice the pull of the IV as you start ripping the tubes from your arm, panic drowning out the sting.

“I have to see him,” you whisper, fingers fumbling clumsily with the tape. “I have to. Please.”

The door opens again and you spin around, heart hammering wildly, only to find Aizawa stepping back inside with Kirishima and Midoriya right behind him.

Kirishima looks tense, jaw clenched, eyes wide with worry, but it is Midoriya’s face that makes something cold twist in your chest. He looks shaken, eyes rimmed red, hands curled tightly into the fabric of his sleeves.

“What’s going on?” you blurt, voice cracking despite your effort to keep it steady. 

Kirishima glances at Aizawa, clearly unsure how to answer, while Midoriya opens his mouth and then closes it again, swallowing hard.

Aizawa sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Bakugo woke up.”

You shake your head immediately, tears welling before you can stop them. “I need to see him. Please. I need to see him.”

Midoriya steps forward without thinking, his voice tight but earnest. “He’s really upset,” he admits softly. “He thought… he thought something happened to you.”

Aizawa nods. “The doctors think it’s best he sees you. Proof that you’re alive.”

Relief and fear crash into each other inside your chest so hard it almost knocks the breath out of you.

“But,” Aizawa adds firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument, “you both need to take it easy. No arguing, no yelling, and no talking about what you saw in the hallucination. If either of you starts spiraling, this visit is over. Understand?”

You nod quickly, wiping at your face with trembling hands. “I understand. I promise.”

Kirishima steps forward and offers you a steady hand, his grip warm and grounding. “C’mon,” he says gently. “He’s two doors down.”

Midoriya falls into step on your other side as you move into the hallway. Your steps are slow and unsteady, your body still shaky as adrenaline and fear churn together in your veins.

Kirishima stops just short of the door and turns to you, his voice dropping low, careful, like he is afraid to break something fragile.

“Hey,” he says softly. “It’s okay. Just… go easy on him, yeah?”

Midoriya nods beside him, eyes flicking to the door before returning to you. “He’s been really scared,” he adds quietly. “Seeing you will help. I know it will.”

You nod, throat too tight for words, fingers curling around the door handle as if it might disappear if you let go. Your hand trembles when you push it open, the hinge giving a soft, almost obscene little creak.

The room smells like antiseptic and something metallic and clean. Machines hum softly, steady and rhythmic.

And there he is.

Bakugo is sitting up in the hospital bed, back propped against stiff white pillows, hospital gown hanging loose on his shoulders. His skin looks too pale against the harsh light, bruising dark along his ribs and collarbone, bandages peeking out from beneath the fabric. His hair is a mess, flattened on one side, sticking up on the other.

And fuck.

The sight of him nearly takes your legs out from under you.

Your knees wobble, vision blurring instantly as your eyes lock onto his. In that single second, it feels like your lungs finally remember what they are meant to do, like your shoulders drop for the first time in hours, like your heart starts beating again instead of just screaming.

He is alive.

He is okay.

He is not dead.

Bakugo’s eyes widen when he notices you.

For a split second, he just stares at you like you are a mirage, as if he blinks you might disappear again. 

“…Y/N?” he croaks, voice rough and wrecked. 

“Katsuki,” you breathe, his name falling out of you like a prayer.

That is all it takes.

He makes a sharp, panicked sound in the back of his throat and immediately swings his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the protests of his body, ignoring the way his knee buckles as he tries to stand.

“You—” he starts, already limping toward you. 

He does not get another word out.

You are moving before you even realize it, crossing the space between you in a heartbeat and throwing yourself into him with everything you have. The impact knocks the breath from both of you, sending him stumbling backward as he grabs onto you on pure instinct.

He falls back onto the bed with a startled grunt, but he does not let go.

Your arms lock around him so tightly it almost hurts, fingers fisting in the fabric of his gown, face pressed hard into his shoulder as a sob tears out of you, loud and ugly. You cling to him like if you loosen your grip even a little, the universe might rip him away again.

“Oh my god,” you sob, words tripping over each other. “You’re okay. You’re really okay. You’re here.”

Bakugo’s arms come around you just as hard, crushing you against his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head as he buries his face into your hair. He breathes you in like oxygen, like he has been drowning and finally broke the surface.

“I’m okay,” he rasps, voice shaking. “I’m okay. I’m right here. Fuck— fuck—”

His grip tightens, almost desperate.

“You scared the shit outta me,” he chokes. “I thought— I thought you were gone. I fuckin’ watched it. I watched—”

“Hey,” you murmur quickly, pulling back just enough to press your forehead to his, hands still clutching him like anchors. “Hey. No. Look at me. I’m here. I’m right here.”

His eyes dart over your face frantically, like he is trying to memorize you, like he is afraid he might forget what you look like if he looks away for even a second.

“You’re— you’re real?” he asks, voice barely holding together. “You’re not— this isn’t that fuckin’ quirk again?”

You shake your head immediately, smiling through tears as you lift one hand to cup his cheek, thumb brushing gently under his eye.

“I’m real,” you whisper. “I promise. I’m real.”

His breath shudders out of him, shoulders slumping as if the fight finally drains out all at once.

“Jesus christ,” he mutters, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “I thought I lost you. I thought I couldn’t— I can’t—”

“You didn’t,” you interrupt softly. “You didn’t lose me.”

He pulls back suddenly, panic flaring again as his eyes rake over you, scanning every inch of you with frantic precision.

“Are you hurt?” he demands. “Where are you hurt? Tell me right now. Your head— your neck— fuck, your neck—”

You gently grab his face with both hands, thumbs brushing over his cheeks until he is forced to look at you.

“I’m okay. Really. Just a concussion and some bruises. That’s it.” you say quietly.

His jaw clenches, eyes glassy.

“He slit your throat…” he says hoarsely. “I watched him do it. I watched you bleed out in front of me.”

Your heart twists painfully at the raw terror in his voice.

“It wasn’t real,” you say again, steady and gentle. “None of it was. That villain… it was all a hallucination. Our worst fear.”

His breath stutters. “Mine was you.”

You smile softly, eyes burning.

“I know,” you whisper. “Mine was you, too.”

Bakugo lets out a shaky laugh that sounds more like a sob.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “I was losin’ my goddamn mind. Tried t’blast my way outta the bed. Thought I had t’get to you. Thought if I didn’t, you’d be—”

“I know,” you murmur, pulling him back into your arms. “I know. But I’m here now. You don’t have to fight.”

He nods against your shoulder, arms tightening around you again.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he says weakly. “Don’t ever scare me like that.”

You huff out a watery laugh. “I could say the same to you.”

Bakugo’s arms remain locked around you, his chin resting against the top of your head while your fingers curl into the fabric at his back. His heartbeat is loud against your ear, steady and alive, and every thump of it feels like proof that the nightmare is truly over.

Eventually, your breathing evens out, the shaking fading into something quieter.

You pull back just enough to look at him, still close enough that your knees brush and your foreheads nearly touch. “What… what happened out there?” you ask softly. “After everything started going wrong.”

Bakugo exhales through his nose and shrugs. “Dunno,” he admits. “I was lookin’ for you. Whole place was wrecked, villains everywhere, smoke and fire and idiots yellin’ in my ear.” His jaw tightens briefly. “Then I felt that mist hit me and next thing I knew, my body wouldn’t fuckin’ listen. When I woke up, Aizawa was tryin’ to explain that the villain was already dealt with, that the others took him down.”

You nod slowly, encouraging him to keep going.

“Said it was just you, me, and Shoto that got hit,” he continues. “Everyone else was fine. Quirk messes with your head, makes you see whatever scares you the most.” His eyes flick back to yours, quieter now. “Guess it worked.”

Your chest aches at the way he says it.

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Guess it did.”

There’s a brief silence before he scoffs, shaking his head. “Y’know,” he mutters, “it really was my biggest fear.”

You lean in before he can say anything else, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, slow and sure, grounding both of you in the moment. When you pull back, your forehead rests against his.

“You’re not going to lose me, ’Suki,” you whisper.

He raises an eyebrow, that familiar spark creeping back into his expression. “Yeah?” he murmurs. “You sayin’ that like it’s a fact.”

“Yup, it is a fact.” you say immediately, nodding. “Pinky promise.”

You pull your hand back just enough to hook your pinky out in front of him, eyes bright despite everything.

Bakugo snorts. “That’s stupid as hell.”

You glare at him. “We promise we won’t lose each other. Or die on each other. Deal?”

Without another word, he sighs and hooks his pinky around yours anyway, his grip firm and deliberate as he squeezes once. “There. Happy?”

You smile. “Very.”

You squeeze his hand. He clicks his tongue. “Y’know it’s real stupid to make that kinda promise when we’re both heroes.”

You shrug lightly, completely unapologetic. “Well, Bakugo Katsuki, if you break your promise, I’m gonna have to break your pinky.”

He laughs, real and warm this time, shaking his head. “Can’t break it if I’m dead, brat.”

“Heyyy!” you immediately swat his arm. “Don’t say that.”

He grins, eyes soft as he looks at you. “Relax. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

His forehead dips down to rest against yours, voice low and rough in a way that makes your chest ache.

“I’m not lettin’ anything touch you, either” he continues. “Not some villain, not some quirk, not fate, not any of that bullshit. Long as I’m breathin’, you’re safe. That’s not a promise I plan on breakin’.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I trust you.”

He exhales shakily, then mutters, “Yeah. Good. ’Cause I—” He stops, swallows hard, then forces it out. “I love you.”

You lean in and kiss him again, slow and full of everything you have been holding in, your hands cupping his face as you smile against his lips. “I love you too,” you say softly when you pull back. “More than anything.”

Bakugo lets out a breath that sounds almost like relief. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair as his other arm wraps around you, holding you like he never intends to let go.

You relax into him, exhaustion finally catching up, eyes fluttering shut as his warmth surrounds you.

“Get some rest,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I got you.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believe it completely.

my hero academia masterlist

You knew that voice. You heard it plenty during the speeches he would give at festivals and events, or the times he’d visit the lower city and you caught a glimpse of him and the conversations he easily held with shop vendors and flustered children. You can practically feel his smothering presence, the heat dripping from his body making the room ten times hotter.

This could not be happening right now. As a servant of the palace, you were paid dearly and in return all you had to do was perform your duties with grace and timeliness. As well as upholding the number one rule that had been installed into you leading up to your first day: do not sully Firelord Zuko with your presence. You had broken all three expectations on your very first day. 

I’m definitely getting fired.

“It seems I've frightened you. Would you mind coming from under the bed? Your position isn’t leaving much to imagination. I fear for your honor.” He teases.

As if you suddenly remembered where you were, you quickly removed yourself from beneath the bed, undergarments still tucked in your hand and your heart now in your ass as you attempted to smooth down your kimono and avoided eye contact with the figure towering over you. 

“M-my Lord! I- please don’t be angry. I was only cleaning before you returned, I-I swear I was not snooping! I thought I had more t-time-”

You swallowed hard and squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the scolding from hell you knew would soon follow. You had heard all the rumors. That his majesty was quick to anger when inconvenienced, even if he had changed much from when he was a young boy. That he lacked tolerance for incompetence and had even fired someone for making his tea wrong, sending the young boy off in tears.

What would he do to you? You were caught in his private chambers, no less in a compromising position that left your virtue to question. Surely you’d be banished from the country, forced to leave your family behind and flee to the earth kingdom-

You shuffled to your knees and bowed until your head touched the ground and the only thing you could see was the red carpet beneath you. Tears pooled in your eyes and threatened to spill, humiliation eating at you like a parasite. 

“If you plan to dismiss me, please allow one of m-my sisters to work in my- my stead. My family won’t survive without-”

You’re cut off by the sound of a deep chuckle filling the room and your blush has covered your entire body at this point, the hair on your arms standing at full attention as goosebumps covered your skin and a tear slipped down your cheek. It wasn’t allowed but you could hardly stop yourself when a sound that angelic basically begged you to lift your head. 

You gasped at the sight of your firelord staring down at you, an amused look on his face as he crossed his arms behind his back and lifted a brow, thoroughly entertained as he fought against his rising grin. HIs golden eyes were practically glowing from the warm sun creeping through the drapes, dark bangs falling into his eyes, half blocking the scar on his left eye. 

He looked otherworldly. Like a god staring down on his devout worshipper, or a human peering at an ant, and it took all of your remaining strength to fight back the crude thoughts firing up from the sight of him hovering over you, snapping your head back to the ground. He was your ultimate superior, your firelord and you were a mere servant that was meant to neither be seen nor heard.

Your inner thoughts were indecent at best and treasonous at worst. You were far from his wife or even his concubine, and you’d do well to remember that. 

“I’m not sure why you think I am cruel enough to fire someone whose job it is to clean up after me. Might I ask where you got this idea that I’m my father?” 

Your eyes widened in horror, guilt rotting beneath your skin because you knew better than to believe in rumors but had quickly soaked up the ones pertaining to Zuko’s character and you had never met the man until this very moment. You had first hand witnessed his acts of kindness and yet..

“Forgive my misjudgment, Zu- my lord. My mother always did say my mouth would get me in trouble one day. I tend to spew nonsense when I am nervous, I mean no offense, It is merely gossip that is beneath you.”

The corner of his lip rises, but you don’t see that. 

“Hmm, I suppose people tend to grow imaginative when bored. Though you’ll do well to remember that it is beneath you too. Please lift your head from the ground lest you intend to become part of it.”

You were instantly rising, not needing to be told twice as your neck and back were growing stiff from the position. You sat on the back of your legs, knees still digging into the floor and your hands squeezing at the fabric that got you into this disaster, eyes locked on the dark red robes Zuko wore to avoid looking him in the eyes again.

If Amachiyo could see you right now..

“Do you have a name?”

You stammered it out, voice cracking in the process but if Zuko noticed he didn’t say anything. You kept your eyes fixed on his robes, stomach twisting and mind racing.

He let your name flow off his tongue so beautifully, dragging it out until your face was burning from the sound. “Is there a reason you refuse to look at me? Surely it can not be my looks. Sokka insists the scar makes me 'stupidly hot.' I confess I’m still not sure what temperature has to do with it.”

You ignore the last part of that comment, knowing what would come out of your mouth would be far from an appropriate thing for an unwed woman to say to any man that was not her own. “I am forbidden, my lord.” 

He simply grunts at that and steps closer, and your heart is thumping so hard that it hurts. You had never been this close to someone of great importance, let alone the firelord himself. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, so you opted for staying still and praying he’d dismiss you lest you embarrass yourself any further.

“Run along then little dove. We wouldn’t want you falling behind on your responsibilities, would we?”

Firelord Zuko was typically a very patient man, however innocent women like you were his guilty pleasure and you were driving him to the brink of insanity. He hadn’t seen you in the two weeks following that day he caught you under his bed, your ass in the air just begging to be fucked. 

He was exhausted from his duties and frustrated that you seemed to basically disappear from the palace. It was shameful how badly he wished to see you again, a jest that a mere servant held his thoughts in chains. Zuko thought you might have a secret ability to bend his mind to think of only you, and it was comical as he didn’t even get your name. 

He hadn’t slept with any of his concubines since meeting you, his thoughts always drifting back to the frightened maid. It made him feel guilty that he could no longer grow erect with other women, though he’d never leave them unsatisfied. Zuko was far from a selfish lover, even if he never wanted concubines in the first place, he always treated them well. 

His current problem? He hadn’t shared his bed in entirely too long and it was starting to mess with his head, making him grow resentful toward you as if you had done something by simply existing. 

Needless to say, dinner with his wife was going terribly, what with Zuko’s mood more rotten than it usually was. The clink of silverware against porcelain echoed through the dining hall and his duty sat across from him, regal as ever, her posture straight despite the late hour.

"You've hardly said a word."

Zuko looks up, annoyance evident on his face and he has to force himself to put his mask back in place. It wasn’t her fault that they had been basically forced to marry even if she betrayed him, but that fact didn’t make his reality any easier to accept. 

“What is there to say?” He doesn’t miss the way she clenches her jaw, he just doesn’t care so he doesn’t linger on it. 

“There’s always matter of state-“ 

“I just spent all day discussing matters of state.” 

His voice was clipped, harsh enough that he hoped to end the conversation but she could never just let things be. Be it at the dinner table or in the gardens with other men. 

“You seem distracted.” 

Zuko nearly scoffed at that. What a fucking hypocrite. In the early days of their marriage he had vowed to make an effort, even if neither of them wanted this. The clans thought it would be best if he took a wife from one of the bigger three and though he refused in the beginning, he eventually agreed as he was young and dumb, still struggling to keep the elders loyal to him when they had been fierce Ozai supporters. 

He regretted that the day he found her in the gardens with one of his guards in the late hours. It’s been years since then and still, they hardly speak to or see each other. Only when Zuko is forced to attend these tiring displays of union to keep everyone happy. 

It wasn’t that he would have minded her sleeping around. They were both young when they wed, in relationships with different people prior and hardly knew each other. The way he saw it was that if he could have concubines then she could have her own lovers too, only she broke him after agreeing to give their arranged marriage a chance and he had never been able to forgive her. 

Eventually he started sleeping with his concubines and that had been his life for the last eight years. He was fucking miserable. 

Zuko let his mind drift back to you, despite knowing he was playing a dangerous game. The way your eyes had widened when he caught you in his chambers, tears forming at the assumption you would be fired, had left him confused and upset that you thought so lowly of him. He had seen frightened servants before but none of them had lingered in his thoughts for weeks afterward. 

“Zuko.” 

Her voice pulled him back from his wandering mind. He let his fork drop onto his plate, appetite completely gone now and anger simmering through his body. She never talked this much, both of them having mutually agreed to not make this more than what was required to keep people from whispering.

“What?”

Her smile is false, sadness evident on her face and for a split second Zuko almost feels bad about the attitude he’d been giving her. Until the image of her bent behind a flower bush with her dress above her ass and another man having his way with her evades his sight. He had been furious when he caught her all those years ago, especially since he’d only just consummated their marriage a fortnight beforehand. 

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”

“No. Must not have been important enough.” He sips at his wine with hopes of getting rid of the foulness on his tongue. She never had to do much to rile him up, her voice doing well enough to turn his mood sour.

“At least you’re honest.” 

She copies him and sets her own fork down, peering into his eyes from across the table. It made him uncomfortable, as if she could look inside of his head and find that his thoughts belonged to a certain servant he was desperate to see again. He could easily find out who you were, order your higher ups to reveal the name of the woman who cleaned his bedchambers that day, but he didn’t want to come off as a creep. To scare you away before-

“Is there another woman?” 

Zuko smirks from behind his wine cup, taking another sip before setting it down again. “No. I am faithfully yours, wife.” Sarcasm laced his voice and the woman’s eye twitched. Good. “Outside of my concubines of course.” 

“Forgive me if I find trouble believing that. You do not sound very convincing, husband.”

“There is no other woman, I will not repeat myself. Let’s finish our meal with some level of decorum.”

Zuko’s irritation was rising and his patience was thinning by the second. There technically wasn’t another woman. As firelord he was expected to take concubines to strengthen the chance of producing heirs and she knew and agreed to that. On matters of you, he didn’t even know your name. Even if the way you were on your knees in front of him played in his head night after lonely night. 

“Then what is it?” She pressed. “You’ve been absent even while sitting in front of me. I only wish-”

“Must there be a reason?”

“Yes!” 

Her voice rings through the dining room, sharp and final and for a moment neither of them speak, the guards shifting awkwardly. The distance between the two of them was larger than the table that separated them. Perhaps in another life they would be able to talk to each other honestly, without the betrayal from the past lingering over them like a dark cloud. 

The door to the dining hall opened before he could respond, servants entered to serve the next course but Zuko felt too sick to eat anything else. Guilt twisting in his stomach though he had done nothing wrong. 

He barely glanced at them before doing a double take and freezing. Toward the back of the group and carrying a tray with practiced balance, was you, the ghost who had stolen his mind over the past two weeks.

His pulse glitched when you looked up at the same time, his breath catching in his throat because for a sweet, but all too short, few seconds you actually held his gaze. He was hypnotized, and when you looked away his rising smirk quickly turned into a frown. 

Such a fucking tease. 

Zuko could lie and say that the next time he saw you had been pure coincidence but that wouldn’t be honorable, now would it? He had learned your schedule following that night in the dining hall. You didn’t have to know that though, he would just have to pretend he had no idea that your shift ended an hour ago and that you liked to visit the public gardens afterward. 

He’s stood behind you, watching as you bend over in front of the fountain and run your hand down the back of one of the palace cats. He never cared for the things but his younger sister, Kiyi, was fond of them so now they were everywhere. He had to scold his dragon for trying to eat one of them.

You looked so fucking edible outside of your work unifrom, dressed in a silk dress that hugged your ass and hips beautifully and Zuko could feel himself growing hard at the sight. His cheeks burned red at the thought of taking you right here, perhaps his wife had known something about fucking in gardens that he didn’t. 

Perhaps he should find out.

“Hmm, scandalous as always.”

You were instantly shooting up and spinning to look at him and his heart almost leaped from his chest. Your hair was free of its usual pulled back style as you opted to let it free fall down your back, your face makeup free and you were so beautiful that it hurt. But the way your robes began to slip off your right shoulder and the wide doe eyed innocent look you were giving him, had his cock straining against his pants. 

“My Lord!” You lowered yourself into a bow, hair falling forward and framing your face. “I did not mean to take up space, I was only admiring the gardens and then this cat came along and well, I just had to pet-”

“Please rise and do not apologize. I’m the one intruding, you were here first were you not?”

You were, Zuko knew that because he watched from a safe distance as you entered, waiting for the perfect moment to follow behind you. But that was his secret, right?

You simply stood there with your head bowed respectfully and it bothered him more than he cared to admit. He never liked the rule of not being allowed to look at your superiors but he also hadn’t thought much of it until he met you and decided that such a silly tradition would be dismissed.

“Are you incapable of speaking unless you are apologizing?"

“I’m so-” You quickly close your mouth, biting on the inside of your cheek and still refusing to look at him. Zuko had to fight to keep himself from laughing, you were just too cute. So innocent that you likely had no idea the inappropriate thoughts running through his head right now. 

“I’ve found that the gardens look best in the late evening, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Of course you would, it was the reason why since you started working here two weeks ago, you came here after every shift without fail. You didn’t know that he knew that though, so he asked anyway. 

“Y-yes, my lord.” Your eyes were on everything but him and that just wouldn’t do. He was tired of playing this game, of pretending his attraction wasn’t burning his common sense away, like he didn’t dream of fucking you every night. 

So he didn’t think before he was stepping forward, standing tall over you and letting the back of his hand slowly fall down your cheek, relishing in the way you were clearly struggling not to lean into his touch. This was perfect, it was so obvious you wanted him too. Zuko wasn’t alone in feeling this gravitational pull between the two of you. 

He lets his finger trail over your bottom lip before gripping your chin between his thumb and index finger, turning your head toward him and lifting until it was tilted back and you were forced to stare at him.

Pure. The feeling that pooled in his stomach was a pure fiery lust that wouldn’t be satiated until he had you quivering beneath him and crying out his name. 

“That’s better. From this moment forward you are to look me in the eyes when I speak to you, am I clear?” 

He doesn’t miss the way your pupils expand and you allow your body to lean into his, so slightly that if Zuko hadn’t been tracking your every breath he wouldn’t have noticed. “But my lord.. People will talk. The rules-”

“Rules?” He chuckles even though a blush is creeping up his neck at the way you stare so trustfully at him. For the first time in years, he feels nervous. He had been an awkward teenager and horrid at seducing women until puberty kicked in and he learned a thing or two from the many girls that threw themselves at his feet. 

“I am the firelord, sweetheart. I do as I wish.”

Zuko was a man of his word. After a desperate struggle to hold himself back from kissing you in public where someone might see, he straightened himself and pulled back, ordering you to meet him in his chambers later that night. 

Your heart was racing the entire walk to the east wing of the palace, knowing what he wanted from you because it was what you desperately craved as well. It was why you changed into your finer robes, the finest you could afford as a servant. It was see through enough that your red dress underneath was very obviously visible.

How disgraceful you were, playing into this game with your superior, with a married man. The whispers that would begin once word spread that a mysterious woman that wasn’t the firelord’s wife or concubine, had been spotted entering his chambers, would be enough to bring shame to your family if anyone discovered who you were.

So why were you speeding up your steps to reach his chambers faster? How touch deprived were you to be so eager to sleep with a man you knew would discard you after getting what he wanted?

Still, you announced yourself to the guard posted outside of his door, raising your hand to knock when he confirmed you were who you said you were. Ignoring the way your body shook and your heart pounded in your ears.

On the other side of the door, Zuko was freshly bathed and still dripping with water when you knocked and walked in after he gave the clear. He stood in front of his bed, the small cotton cloth wrapped around his waist doing little to keep him decent, long hair falling down his back, free from the weight of the crown usually nestled atop his head.  

“Firelord Zuko, I am here just as you requested.”

You cringe at the formality in your tone. You had never been with a man before and while you knew what Zuko wanted from you and you were more than willing to give it, this was new territory for you. You’d only ever kissed a few men before, never going beyond a heated exchange of spit and maybe a little grinding. 

He would be your first.

“Good girl. Shall I reward you for following orders so finely?”

His words had you snapping your head up, eyes blown wide and face burning hot at his pet name. You had quickly believed rumors of his cruelty, terrified of working in the palace and here he was calling you a good girl.

The sudden reality check of Zuko’s true nature gave you whiplash. You can’t help the way your eyes lower, taking in every toned muscle, the scar on his stomach, the drop of water falling so slowly down his tanned skin, the dark trail of hair that disappeared between the cloth wrapped at his waist. 

The man was truly out of this world.

“Yes p-please, my lord.” Harlot.

Zuko smirks at the humiliating desperation in your voice, golden eyes burning so bright that you thought he had actual fire in them. As he makes his way toward you, you feel your stomach twist and the goosebumps on your arms double in quantity. 

The way he’s walking toward you like the god of seduction has an ache forming between your legs and spit filling your mouth. You have to actively keep your jaw from dropping lest you start drooling. How embarrassing would that be? 

When he finally reaches you he’s looming, forcing you to tilt your head back to stare at him. He looked positively masculine, would he be rough with you? The smell of his soap was so strong, so sweet that you wanted to taste it.

He’s being gentle with you, thumb rubbing on your bottom lip as he uses his other hand to slowly untie your robe, never letting his eyes leave yours. His gaze was soul crushing, nerve wrecking enough that your body slightly shook, blood turning cold when his knuckles grazed your gown before he finished untying the knot. 

Zuko doesn’t waste a second in pushing your robes to the floor, the soft fabric falling to the sides of your feet. He steps back to admire you and you can feel the flush on your neck and cheeks as his eyes linger on your breasts, hard nipples imprinting on the silk. 

You had purposely chosen to forgo your sarashi so your breasts weren’t flattened like they usually were and a sick sense of pride filled your head at the way Zuko was eating you with his eyes. 

For a moment you forgot that he was a married man with plenty of concubines to warm his bed, that this was simply a one time thing and he was just using you to get what he wanted. 

“Hmm, get on the bed and I shall give you your prize.” 

Your eyes are wide, pupils blown black with need and your body is buzzing so much that you can barely feel your fingers that have begun to sweat. Zuko only stands there, hands clasped in front of him as he waits for you to do as you’re told. 

You’re too dumbfounded to do anything until he’s raising an eyebrow because from what your short lessons had taught you, the firelord does not repeat himself. So you’re nodding foolishly, hair spilling around your shoulders as you stiffly walk to his bed, trying your best not to collapse and embarrass yourself. 

When your knees hit the bed, you turn around to face Zuko and gasp when you see he had been following you and now stood over you once again, dark locks falling into his face.

You swallow hard, your pulse skyrocketing as you reach a hand up to touch him, your fingers tips making the small peach fuzz hair on his face stand to attention the closer you get. Zuko’s eyes only leave yours to look at your lips, his hands moving to your hips to pull you close.

When your hand connects with his cheek, your fingertips brush the scar on his left eye. He stiffened for a moment before melting into the touch. He turns and places a kiss on your wrist, soft and so sweet that it sends shivers down your spine.

Zuko tilts your head up just a little before leaning down, every inch he closes making your knees weaker than they already were. And when his lips finally meet yours, sparks are bursting between the two of you, an invisible tether pulls you deeper into each other. 

The kiss had started off slow, your lips moving together slowly as you both savored this moment, until you whimpered softly and your hand tugged at his hair. Zuko groaned back and immediately deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips and you immediately suck it into your mouth.

It leaves your head pleasantly spinning, the floor shifting beneath your feet as he moves to grip your ass, both hands full and pulls you flush against him. You could feel his hard cock rubbing at your hip, twitching with need and your pussy is so drenched you can feel your inner thighs growing wet from your arousal as it starts to trickle out of your panties. 

He finally pulls back and your left moving forward, aching for more but he keeps you still with a harsh squeeze to your ass. 

“You’ve been such a good servant.” He murmurs, his nose brushing against yours. “Now lay on down and spread your legs for me, sweetheart. Your firelord demands it.”  

Zuko shoves you onto your back on the bed, your dress riding up your thighs as you gasp. He drops to the floor in front you, slowly sliding your slippers off your feet and kissing your ankles, working his way up your body.

His hands push your gown up as he goes, and when he reaches your clothed cunt it takes the strength of all of his ancestors to stop himself from burying his face into your pussy and eating you through your panties.  

Your scent is driving him insane, a mixture of jasmine soap and arousal clouding his senses and he wants nothing more than to devour you, but he wasn’t an animal. He would properly undress you first, take his time with you since you deserved nothing less. 

When he reaches your breasts, he pinches each of your already hard nipples, rolling the buds between his fingers and grinning at the breathy moan you tried to fight back, head tossed to the side with your lip tucked between your teeth. 

He keeps pushing the gown up your body until you sit up to lift your arms and he pulls it off, tossing it behind him without a care, your hair fanning out on the bed under him as you lay back down and he swears you’re the most divine creature he’s ever seen. 

How funny life was, that the woman who made him feel most alive, was the one person his status would never allow him to fully have. Dangerous images started to form, ones where he left his wife and concubines and publicly claimed you as his. Such thoughts were unbecoming of a Fire Lord, untraditional, but Zuko had been breaking those since the day that crown was placed on his head.

What was one more rule overthrown? 

 The way you’re naively staring up at him has him drunk on desire, his hard cock straining against the towel still wrapped around his waist. He notices how you let your eyes drift across his body, admiring him just as he admired you. 

When they land on his hidden twitching length and your eyes widen, he bites back a smirk, enjoying this entirely too much. You were shaking like you’d never done this before, eyes nervously looking around while you chewed on your bottom lip, almost petrified as if you were a-

He pauses, heart quickening at the idea of being your first. His feet move before his mind, reached down to grab your fiddling hands and lacing his fingers with yours to move them above your head. He uses his knee to spread your legs wide and settle his body between them, his cock pressing against your covered pussy.

You lock your legs around his hips, having no clue what you’re doing but following your gut. You're immediately rewarded with a sick pleasure as he grinds into you. It’s almost good enough to cover up the fact that you were terrified, having never gone past the grinding stage.

“Sweetheart..” Zuko whispers “Have you not been deflowered?” 

And when you nod your head yes he can’t control the groan that escapes, lowering his head to place his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling long and hard because you smelled too fucking good. 

He kisses the area between your shoulder and neck, making his way up until he’s face to face with you again. His pupils have dilated, his eyes burning brighter by the second. 

“My my you’re just full of surprises aren’t you, my little dove?”

You swallow hard, your tongue caught in your throat when he starts to move a hand between your thighs, lifting his hips just enough so he can press his fingers against your aching pussy. The first brush of his fingers made you arch off the bed with a cry. He groans, low and guttural as he pushes your panties to the side and teases your entrance, circling but never quite giving you what you craved.

“I’ll take such good care of you, love. Make every second worth it.” 

You let out a shaky breath and nod your head again, moving your hips to meet his fingers and growing frustrated when he pulls away. 

He laughs at your desperation and it makes you flush hot, ashamed at how desperate you were acting. 

“Be patient.” 

“Please, Zuko, ngghh fuck.” Your voice cracks as he finally sinks one finger then two inside you, curling just right to make your vision whiten at the edges.

You’re whimpering and tossing your head side to side as he sets a cruelly slow pace, slick dripping down his fingers while he stretches you open. Those heated make out session you shared with men of your status could never live up to this, you were in pure bliss and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. 

His breath is hot on your neck, tongue licking taunting strips that have you tightening around his fingers. When you're wet enough and stretched out just right, he picks up the pace bit by bit. Giving you more in small doses.

“That’s it, love. Take what I give you, you’re doing so well.”

He spreads his fingers, scissoring you to help prep you for his cock. You were so fucking tight that if he fucked you at this stage, he’d probably cum within five seconds of being inside you. 

Zuko groans loudly when your hands escape his grip and you sink your nails into his back, hips moving in circles around his fingers. He can feel the way your cunt is jumping, clit hard in arousal and he has to taste your or he’ll die, so he’s picking up his pace until his fingers are slamming into you, thumb rubbing harsh circles on your sensitive bud. 

Your stomach tightens the longer he goes, a bubble taking root through your body before it bursts and you’re crying out as your very first orgasm rips through you, pussy clenching around his hand. 

He kept working you through it, his fingers heating up and your vision turns red from the intense pleasure the newfound warmth added, drawing out every wave until you were a trembling mess beneath him. Only then did he pull his fingers free, glistening with your arousal, and bring them to his lips. His tongue dragged over them with a groan, savoring the taste of you and it has you wanting more .

“What,” You take in a deep breath, face sweaty and burning. “Was that? Did you- did you use your bending on me?” 

Zuko shrugs and smiles at you, bangs falling in his face. “A trick I learned. Did you enjoy it?” 

Enjoy it? You wanted to laugh in his face because there simply wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what you were feeling, your body trapped between the spirit and living realm. Your pussy was still throbbing from being stretched, legs shaking like jelly as you struggled to catch your breath. 

“I want more. Please.” You reach a hand up to touch Zuko’s cheek, thumb rubbing at his scar and you keep your eyes on him as you run your other hand down his side, enjoying the way his body shudders this time. 

When you reach the knot keeping the cloth around his hips snug, you start to unwork it, your eyes never leaving his. He lets you, seeming entertained with the idea of you taking charge when only a few hours ago you wouldn’t even look at him. 

When it falls to the floor you reach a hand between your bodies, fingers running through his pubes before you wrap them around his cock and he gasps from the sudden contact. 

It’s warm, long and thicker than his print let on and your ten seconds of confidence are over before you can enjoy it, hand faltering as you imagine trying to fit that inside of you.

Zuko notices your hesitation, pulling back so he can look at you clearly while rubbing his thumb against your hip. “Don’t think too much about it, love. I promised to be gentle.” 

You nod even though nerves still have sweat beading on your forehead. You wanted this, needed this more than anything and even though you knew your parents would be disappointed that you were unwed, you couldn’t find it in you to care. 

You would deal with the consequences later, but for now nothing existed outside of this space you and Zuko shared.

“O-okay.” You whisper, the hair on your arms standing to attention when he moves your body up the bed and pulls your panties off, lying on his stomach between your legs as tossing them. 

Now you understood how the first pair ended up under his bed.

You whimper as his fingers find your pussy again, circling your overstimulated clit with slow strokes. He nuzzles his nose against your thigh, placing a kiss on it before licking at your entrance in a strip. 

You reach a hand down and grab onto his hair, lip catching in your teeth as you start to slowly move your hips against his face. Zuko groans encouragingly, replacing his fingers with his tongue and sucking your clit into his mouth. 

You gasp, hand tightening around his black hair as your back arches off the bed and Zuko works you, stretching you open with his index finger, preparing you for what’s to come. Your nipples grow harder by the second, pussy throbbing and leaking juices all over his face and hand.

“My lord?” The voice comes from the other side of the door and you immediately recognize it as a co-workers, your blood turning cold despite the sweat coating your skin. 

Panic, pure panic has you attempting to pull your body away but Zuko isn’t having it, using his hand to grab your hip and roughly pin you to the bed. His strength was overwhelming, even while only using half of it he was able to keep you still, attention solely focused on making you cum again.

Tears pull in the corners of your eyes when he adds his middle finger, pushing deep until his knuckles are flush against your pussy, ignoring the voice on the other side of the door. 

You’re too gone to truly stop him, legs tightening around his head to pull him closer. You’re bucking widely against him, biting back several moans that threaten to expose your current.. condition. 

Zuko uses his powers again, heating his tongue against your clit and you let go, eyes rolling back with your mouth dropped in a silent cry, pussy squirting juices onto the man beneath you. He doesn’t care, doesn’t stop sucking you dry until your legs are dropping from his shoulders.

“I just.. I thought you might be hungry since you skipped dinner.”

“Just ate.” His voice calls out, eyes locked on your eyes with a hint of mischief in them. “Leave me.”

SIlence. 

Zuko doesn’t wait, grabbing your legs and hooking them on his arms as he lines his cock up with your entrance. Your eyes are as wide as the moon when he slightly nudges forward, grinding his impressive length through your folds to soak it. 

When the sound of footsteps fade away, Zuko doesn’t give you a moment to speak before he’s pushing the tip in. He didn't rush it, didn’t force it. Instead, he held your gaze as he started to push through your tight walls, inch by inch, his breath ragged with restraint. 

You cried out as the pain of your broken hymen tore through you, your nails digging into his shoulders. Zuko stilled, his jaw clenched, his voice a rough whisper. “Breathe. Just.. breathe. I’ve got you.”

His cock was discovering new depths, ones his fingers and tongue couldn't quite reach. He stopped with every inch, littering your face in kisses and licking your tears away. “So good for me, love. You’re so brave.” 

The feeling of your hymen tearing was sharp and painful, the trick of taking a deep breath only working for a few seconds before it became too overwhelming. Still you bite your lip, forcing yourself to stay quiet but Zuko noticed. Of course he did. 

He pulls back, staring down at you with concern etched into his face. “Are you- are you okay? I can stop.” He chokes out the last part when your pussy grips him on instinct, forehead dropping onto yours.

“I just need, mmm, a minute. It burns.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth “My brave little dove. It’ll pass.”

You take deep, shuddering breaths as he gives you time to adjust to his size, his hand cradling your face, lips brushing against yours in the softest kiss as his hair falls on the sides of your face.

When the pain mostly withdrew and was replaced with a deep burn of desire, you nodded for him to continue. 

He started by rolling his hips in slow, deep thrusts that made your toes curl, making sure to keep his eyes on yours for any signs of discomfort. While Zuko had wanted nothing more than to pound you, he wasn’t a brute and wanted you to enjoy yourself too, especially since it was your first time. 

“That’s it. Take all of it, perfect girl.” He grunts, his pelvis rubbing against your clit so beautifully that you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer. 

“Haah, oh god! That f-feels amazing, my lord.” 

The sound of his title slipping from your tongue has him reeling, leaving him hopelessly flustered and his cheeks dusted pink as he smashes his mouth against yours, your tongues tangling as he picks up his pace. Your pussy suctions every time he pulls far enough out and shoves his cock deep inside, mushroom tip rubbing against your cervix. 

It drives you crazy the way he’s stretching you, the perfect mixture of pain and pleasure making the world around you tilt. You lift your hips, silently begging for more and it doesn't take long for Zuko to understand you. 

He kisses you one more time before sitting on the back on his legs, grabbing your hips with both hands and leaning over your body to fold you in half. You’re in a mean mating press, your legs pressing into your chest as Zuko hovers over you. 

His eyes are burning bright from the lit hearth, his chest red from exertion. Tears pool at the sight, he was truly unbelievable. Zuko was arguably the most powerful man in the realm and here he was, on top of you and in this moment, yours.

“Fuck, I w-won’t last long like this.” 

Zuko swears. Something he never does as he finds it to be uncouth, however you were turning him mad, clouding his judgement.   

“S’kay.” Your words slurred as you pushed his hair from his face and moved your hips as best as you could in this position. “Just need.. you to move.” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Zuko doesn’t start slow because when he looks down and sees the way his cock is snug inside of you, disappearing and reappearing coated in light red blood, he snaps. His body hunches over yours as he slams into you, savoring the way you scream out his name and rake your nails over his chest. 

“OH! Zuko, I’m-” You’re whining and tossing your head back, drool and tears leaking down your face, your pussy squelching from blood and arousal, making a big fucking mess on the silk sheets.

“Yes? Tell me, love. Tell your firelord what you need.” 

You can’t speak, spit bubbling in your mouth while Zuko fucks you dumb on his cock. He’s pounding you so hard that your body is moving up the bed, the headboard slamming loudly into the wall as he has his way with you.

“I think I know what you need.” 

The world tilts when he pulls you off his cock and flips you onto your stomach, using his hands to push your legs together. 

“What are you-” Your question is cut short by the feeling of him lowering his body over yours and slipping his cock between your legs, nudging until he’s at your entrance again and pushing through your squishy walls. 

“You need more, so I’m giving you more.” He bottoms out in one sharp thrust, his balls smacking against your ass as he starts to ruthlessly pound into you, his hand pushing your face into the mattress. 

“Huuuuh, oh fuck! God yes, just like t-that!” Your fingers grip the sheets, knuckles turning white from the force. 

Zuko fucks you impossible harder and in return, your pussy clenched around him tight, sucking up his cock and refusing to let go. 

He has you in a prone position, propping himself on his elbows so he doesn’t squish you, lips sucking on your neck and making sure to leave marks. If he couldn’t publicly have you, he would make sure others knew you were already claimed. An ugly sense of possession swelling in his chest. 

His thrust grows animalistic and your cunt flutters around him. The pressure builds in your core and coils tighter with every stroke. 

“So perfect for me, love. Say it, say you’re mine.”  

Your back arches, nipples dragging across the bed and you’re stuttering out I’m yours! as the knot in your stomach finally bursts and you’re cumming for the third time. The pleasure is white and it’s hot, your screams muffed as you turn your face into the bed. 

Zuko wraps your hair in his hand, twisting it and pulling while he keeps fucking you, cock swelling as he chases his releases. His breathing is ragged, hips pushing you further down. 

“Can I- fuck- can you I breed you?” 

You nod your head, pushing your hips up to meet his thrusts. He slams into you a few more times before burying himself to the hilt with a loud groan, cock pulsing as hot cum spurts against your cervix, thick and overflowing.

His hips jerk with each pulse, pumping his seed deeper inside you. You feel the warmth of his cum leaking out, further ruining his sheets. 

Zuko stays there for a minute, letting the last of his release drip into you before slowly pulling out and falling to the bed beside you. 

You slowly roll onto your back, pussy sore and when you can think straight, reality crashes into you that you were no longer pure. 

Who would marry you now? 

Before anxiety could swallow you whole, Zuko was pulling you into his arms, grabbing your leg to hike it over his waist. You hesitate before laying your head on his chest, relief washing over you that he hadn’t immediately kicked you out. 

Tomorrow. You could worry about your future tomorrow. For now, you would enjoy the bliss of being his before you were just his servant again come morning.

“Mine.” He leans down to kiss the top of your head. “All mine.” 

He grabs your hand and toys with your ring finger, and you had no idea that Zuko was already planning a way to end his marriage without causing an uproar, thinking of how to ask you to be his girlfriend without scaring you off. 

He would have to handle his council first, not that it really mattered in the end. Nothing and no one was going to stop him from making you his.

❦ lisa's note: this took an embarassing amount of time to finish so I hope you guys enjoy it and pls ignore any grammar errors, my brain is fried 🥲 comments are always appreciated!

© art creds: @hunnismokah ❤︎

zuko tags: @bibimysoul @getovibesonly @lazylionlady @httpswilloww @itzkawaiix @xpotatoee @rhaewinsdaughter @manayoyo @laceymarch @darkloverfox @adeline5666 @1iluvvocattoss @fireladybliss @bananianii @renamay09 @pepitesingulare @mossmydarling @im-in-lokis-army @llovekats @xoxocelestial @godisitnaptimeyet @betsybetts @mihyas-dieehefrau @katarasdoll @myauraisperrywinkle @nishinoyasusedsock @rhaewinsdaughter @amelliathestar @rizecia17 @mutsu422 @weasleytwins-41 @alex2602 @lilywife @blackheartharv @emeraldpurple @eaturbucky @kissprl @moewzington @sugarxspic3 @pinkpantherrrrss @megumiswifeyily @sunnyteume @clarkkentfavorite

the first time you saw him, you’d nearly tripped over your own feet.

he was standing in your aunt’s garden, in a white tank top that was completely soaked through, clinging to every ridge and dip of his torso like a second skin.

the water hose was in his hand, spraying a fine mist over the tomato plants, and the droplets caught the sunlight like diamonds against his tan skin.

his arms were scarred, corded with muscle, and his face—sharp, angular, with a permanent scowl etched into his features—was the kind of beautiful that made your stomach do a slow, dangerous flip.

you’d walked outside that first day in a short skirt and a tight tank top, lips glossed, hair falling perfectly over your shoulders, a wicked grin already curling your mouth.

you’d leaned against the porch post and said something sweet, something flirty, something that usually worked on every boy you’d ever met.

he’d looked at you like you were a bug he wanted to squash.

“fuck off,” he’d said, voice low and rough with that thick southern drawl that made even his insults sound like honey. and then he’d turned back to his plants like you didn’t exist.

you should’ve been discouraged.

you should’ve rolled your eyes and moved on.

but instead, something sparked in your chest. a challenge. a game. and you were never one to back down from a game.

so you made it your mission.

every day, you found new ways to get his attention. you’d walk into the kitchen wearing nothing but a towel, water still dripping from your skin, while he stood there drinking a glass of water, sweat beading on his forearms from working outside.

he’d barely glance at you, grunt, and walk right past like you were invisible.

you’d leave your bedroom window wide open while you changed, making sure the curtains were just sheer enough to silhouette your body.

not even a flicker of interest from him.

you’d bend over in front of him to pick up something you’d “accidentally” dropped, wear the shortest shorts you owned, brush against him when you passed in the hallway. nothing. he was a fortress, and you were determined to break down every single wall.

and today, you had a new plan.

your aunt had gone to town for groceries, leaving you alone in the house with him. the perfect opportunity.

you’d slipped into the tiniest bikini you owned—a scrap of pale pink fabric that barely covered your breasts and a matching triangle bottom that rode high on your hips.

you’d spent a good twenty minutes making sure everything looked just right, then you’d grabbed a towel, a bottle of sunscreen, and a book you had no intention of reading, and you’d made your way out to the garden.

he was already there, of course. bent over a row of daisies, wearing a pair of worn jeans and a thin gray t-shirt that was already starting to darken with sweat across his back. you could see the muscles shifting under the fabric as he worked, could see the way his shoulder blades moved like wings.

your mouth went dry.

you laid your towel out on one of the sun chairs, positioned perfectly so that the sunlight would hit you just right, and you stretched out on your stomach, arching your back just a little more than necessary. you let your head rest on your folded arms, closed your eyes, and pretended to relax.

for a long while, nothing happened.

you could hear the snip of his shears, the rustle of leaves, the occasional grunt as he yanked a weed from the earth. he didn’t look at you. not once.

you kept peeking through half-lidded eyes, watching him move, watching the way his jeans sat low on his hips, the dark line of hair trailing from his navel disappearing beneath the waistband. and every time, he ignored you.

it was maddening.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, he straightened up, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, and turned to look at you. his crimson eyes were narrowed, his jaw tight.

“the hell you doin’ out here?” he asked, voice flat.

you stretched, letting your back arch just a little more, letting the curve of your ass shift under the tiny scrap of fabric. “tanning,” you said, all innocence. “is that a problem?”

“tannin',” he repeated, like the word was stupid. “in my garden.”

“your garden?” you lifted your head, propping your chin on your hands. “last i checked, this was my aunt’s garden. you just work here.”

a muscle in his jaw twitched. “i’m the one who takes care of it. means i get a say in who sprawls around half-naked innit.”

“half-naked?” you looked down at yourself, then back up at him with a sweet smile. “this is a bikini. it’s for swimming. and tanning. perfectly normal.”

“you ain’t swimmin’.”

“no, i’m tanning. didn’t you hear me?”

he stared at you for a long, hard moment, his eyes tracing over your body in a way that was almost clinical, like he was assessing a piece of furniture. then he scoffed, shook his head, and turned back to his work. “whatever. just don’t get in my way.”

you bit your lip, fighting a grin. he was talking to you. that was progress. even if he was being a dick about it, he was engaging. and you could work with that.

you let the silence stretch, listening to the sounds of him working. you shifted on the towel, making sure your movements were slow and deliberate, making sure the light caught the curve of your hip, the dip of your spine. you let out a little sigh, just loud enough for him to hear.

he ignored you.

you flipped onto your back, letting the sun hit your stomach, your chest. you arched your back, stretching your arms above your head, your breasts pressing against the thin fabric of your bikini top. you let out another sigh, this one a little louder, a little more breathy.

the snip of his shears paused. you didn’t look, but you could feel his gaze on you, heavy and hot. then it was gone, and the snipping resumed.

you smiled to yourself.

“hey,” you called out, your voice sweet and syrupy. “could you do me a favor?”

“no.”

“you don’t even know what it is yet.”

“don’t care.”

you sat up, letting the towel fall away from your chest. you ran your fingers through your hair, pushing it back from your face, and gave him your most innocent, pleading look. “i can’t reach the sunscreen on my back. and i really don’t want to burn. could you…put some on for me?”

he stopped. turned. looked at you like you’d just asked him to set the garden on fire.

“you didn’t think of that beforehand?” he asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

“i thought i’d be able to reach,” you said, pouting your lips. “but i can’t. please, katsuki? i’ll be out of your hair faster. i promise.”

he stared at you for a long, agonizing moment. you could see the war in his eyes—the part of him that wanted to tell you to go fuck yourself, and the part of him that was too damn stubborn to let you win by whining. finally, with a heavy, put-upon sigh, he set down his shears and stalked over to you.

“turn around,” he said, his voice flat.

you bit back a triumphant grin and turned, presenting your back to him. you heard him pick up the bottle of sunscreen, heard the squirt of it hitting his palm. then his hands were on you, and every thought in your head evaporated.

his hands were rough, calloused, warm. he started at your shoulders, spreading the lotion in firm, efficient strokes. his thumbs dug into the muscles on either side of your spine, and you couldn’t help the little moan that escaped your lips.

“shut up,” he said, but his voice was a little rougher than before.

you bit your lip, staying quiet as his hands moved lower. down your shoulder blades, down the curve of your waist. his fingers brushed the edge of your bikini bottom, and you felt a jolt of electricity shoot through you. he didn’t linger. he moved on, smoothing the lotion over your lower back, his thumbs tracing the dimples just above your ass.

“you’re real quiet all of a sudden,” he said, his voice low, almost a murmur. “that ain’t like you.”

“just enjoying the view,” you said, your voice coming out breathier than you intended.

“view? you ain’t even lookin’.”

“i’m enjoying the view of the garden. through the reflection in your eyes.”

he snorted. “that’s the dumbest thing i’ve ever heard.”

“you love it.”

“i hate it.”

but his hands didn’t stop. they moved lower, smoothing the sunscreen over the tops of your thighs, his fingers pressing just a little harder than necessary.

you felt your breath catch, felt your skin prickle with goosebumps despite the heat. his hands were wandering, and you could feel the heat radiating off him as he leaned over you.

“y'know,” he said, his voice dropping to something low and dangerous, “you’ve been pesterin’ me all summer. walkin’ around in towels, leavin’ your window open, bendin’ over in front of me like a damn cat in heat.”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said, your voice innocent.

“liar.” his hands slid lower, his thumbs brushing the curve of your ass. you felt your breath hitch, felt your thighs press together. “you think i ain’t noticed? you think i’m fuckin' blind?”

“you never said anything.”

“what was i supposed to say? ‘hey, thanks for the free show, but i’m tryin’ to work’?” his hands were moving now, slow and deliberate, massaging the sunscreen into the skin just above the waistband of your bikini. “you’re a pest, y'know that?”

“you keep talking, but your hands haven’t stopped.”

“shut up.”

he was rubbing circles into your lower back now, his fingers slipping lower with every pass. you could feel the heat pooling between your legs, could feel the way your bikini bottom was already starting to get damp.

this was working. this was exactly what you wanted.

“you’re a real piece of work,” he muttered, his voice thick with something that might have been anger, might have been want. “think you can just prance around in your little outfits and get whatever you want.”

“is it working?”

his hands stopped. for a moment, the only sound was the cicadas and the pounding of your heart. then he moved, and suddenly his hands were on your hips, gripping hard, and he was pulling you up, turning you over so you were on your back, looking up at him.

his face was flushed, his crimson eyes burning with a fire that made your breath catch. his jaw was tight, his lips pressed into a thin line. he looked furious.

he looked hungry.

“you didn’t think i’d notice?” he said, his voice low and rough. “you didn’t think i’d see what you were doin’?”

“i knew you’d notice,” you said, your voice soft, your heart pounding. “i was counting on it.”

he stared at you for a long moment, his hands still gripping your hips. then he let out a harsh breath, almost a laugh, and shook his head.

“you’re stupid,” he said. “y'know that?”

“i’ve been told.”

his hands moved, sliding up your sides, over your ribs. his thumbs brushed the underside of your breasts, and you arched into his touch, a soft whimper escaping your lips. his eyes darkened.

“you’re gonna regret this,” he said, but there was no heat in his voice. just a low, rough promise.

“i doubt it.”

he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “you’re gonna be beggin’ me to stop by the time i’m done with you.”

you shivered, a thrill running through you. “try me.”

for a long moment, he just looked at you. then, slowly, his hands slid down your body, over your stomach, over your hips, until they were resting on the curve of your ass. he squeezed, hard, and you gasped, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders.

“you’ve been askin’ for this,” he said, his voice a low growl. “all fuckin' summer. you’ve been beggin’ for it.”

“maybe,” you said, your voice breathless. “maybe i have. what are you gonna do about it, hm?”

his hands moved lower, slipping under the waistband of your bikini bottom. his fingers found the soaked fabric, and he let out a low, dark laugh.

“fuckin’ hell,” he said. “you’re already wet.”

“shut up,” you said, echoing his earlier words.

his grin was sharp, predatory. “make me.”

and then his fingers were moving, pushing the damp fabric aside, and he was sliding two fingers through your slick folds, slow and deliberate.

you gasped, your back arching, your hands tightening on his shoulders. he watched your face, his eyes hungry, as he circled your clit with his thumb.

“that feel good?” he asked, his voice mockingly sweet.

“y-yes,” you breathed.

“good.” he pressed his fingers deeper, finding your entrance, and then he pushed inside you with a wet, obscene squelch. you cried out, your head falling back, your hips bucking against his hand.

he fucked you with his fingers, slow and deep, his thumb still working your clit. his other hand was gripping your hip, holding you in place, his fingers digging into your skin. you were moaning, whimpering, your body arching into his touch.

“look at you,” he said, his voice low and rough. “so damn needy. so damn desperate.”

“katsuki,” you moaned, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“what?” he said, his voice sharp. “what do you want?”

“more,” you begged. “please.”

he smirked, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made your vision go white. “more? you want more?”

“yes, yes, please—“

he pulled his fingers out, and you whined at the loss. but before you could protest, he was grabbing your hips, flipping you over onto your stomach. his hands were on your ass, squeezing, spreading, and you could feel the heat of his body behind you.

“you want my cock?” he asked, his voice rough. “you want me to fuck you?”

“yes,” you said, your voice muffled against the towel. “god, yes.”

“then beg.”

you turned your head, looking back at him over your shoulder. his eyes were blazing, his face flushed, his lips parted. he looked like a man on the edge, and you wanted to push him over.

“please, katsuki,” you said, your voice sweet and breathy. “please fuck me. i need your cock. i need it so bad.”

a low growl rumbled in his chest. “that’s more like it.”

he pulled your bikini bottom down, letting it fall to your knees. then you felt his hands on your hips, his thumbs spreading your cheeks, and the blunt head of his cock pressing against your slick entrance. he pushed, just a little, just enough to make you gasp.

“y'sure about this?” he asked, his voice a low rasp.

“yes,” you said, your voice desperate. “fuck, yes, just—“

he pushed inside you in one smooth, hard thrust, and you both groaned. he was thick, filling you completely, stretching you in a way that made your eyes roll back in your head. he paused, his hands gripping your hips so hard you knew there would be bruises.

“fuck,” he breathed. “fuck, you’re tight.”

“move,” you whined. “please, move.”

and he did. he pulled out almost all the way, then slammed back in, setting a brutal, punishing pace. the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mixing with your moans and his grunts. his hand came down on your ass, hard, and you cried out, your fingers digging into the towel.

“y'like that?” he growled. “y'like gettin’ fucked like a little slut in the garden, huh?”

“yes,” you moaned. “yes, yes, yes—“

he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, and you gasped at the sharp pain. his other hand was on your hip, holding you in place as he fucked you, his thrusts deep and relentless.

“you’ve been such a fuckin’ pest,” he said, his voice harsh and breathless. “walkin’ around in your little towels, flashin’ your tits at me, thinkin’ you could get away with it.”

“i did get away with it,” you managed, your voice choked with pleasure.

his hand tightened in your hair, pulling harder. “you got a smart mouth. ever thought about that being fuckin' annoyin'?”

“you love it.”

“i hate it.” he thrust deeper, harder, and you cried out. “but i’m gonna fuck it out of you.”

his pace increased, relentless, unforgiving. the world narrowed to the feeling of him inside you, the sound of his breath, the heat of his body against yours. you could feel the pressure building, coiling low in your belly, and you knew you were close.

“katsuki,” you moaned, your voice breaking. “i’m gonna—i’m gonna—“

“not yet,” he said, his voice a low growl. “you don’t fuckin' cum until i say so. torturin' me all summer..”

he slowed his pace, pulling out until only the tip of him was inside you, then pushing back in slow and deep. it was torture, the most exquisite kind of torture. you whimpered, your hips bucking back against him, trying to get more.

“please,” you begged. “please, katsuki, i need—“

“what do you need?” he asked, his voice mocking. “tell me.”

“i need to cum,” you said, your voice desperate. “please, let me cume.”

“beg harder.”

“please,” you said, your voice breaking. “please, please, please—“

he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, his lips brushing your ear. “you’re such a fuckin’ slut,” he whispered.

“yes,” you said, your voice a sob. “yours. your slut.”

something in him seemed to break. he pulled back, grabbed your hips, and started fucking you again, hard and fast, his rhythm wild and desperate. his hand found your clit, rubbing in tight circles, and you felt the pressure build, felt the wave rising.

“come on,” he said, his voice rough. “you can cum.”

and you did. you shattered, your body convulsing, your cries filling the air as the orgasm ripped through you. you were barely aware of him pulling out, barely aware of the hot, wet spurts of his cum painting your back, his grunt of satisfaction.

you lay there, panting, your body trembling, your mind a haze of pleasure. you felt him collapse beside you, his breath coming in harsh gasps. for a long moment, neither of you spoke.

then he sat up, and you heard him fumbling for something. you turned your head, watching as he picked up your phone from where it had fallen on the towel. his fingers moved across the screen, typing something.

“what are you doing?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

he didn’t answer. he finished, tossed the phone onto the towel beside you, and stood up. he pulled up his jeans, buttoned them, and looked down at you with a complicated expression that was part annoyance, part satisfaction.

“you got what you wanted,” he said, his voice flat. “now stop botherin’ me.”

and he walked away, leaving you there, cum drying on your back, your phone buzzing with a new contact name.

you picked it up, looked at the screen.

a single name: “katsuki.”

you smiled, wide and wicked, and lay back down in the sun.

summer was just getting started.

2026 ── 𝓦𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐎𝐅 @atelphobist 𝜗ৎ

ᥫ᭡ | © 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳. 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥. 𝘯𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘪.

yuji simply nods before seeing himself out of the office.

the sky grew darker whilst his was inside of the building, the short days of winter quickly making themselves known as the november air turns crisper. he pulls his bomber jacket tighter around his body as he swiftly shifts through the foot traffic and train rides, arriving in the neighbourhood of katsushika within an hour. 

to the average person, it would simply seem like a quieter night with the inhabitants opting to stay inside. but to him, as a sorcerer, he can see the dark energy emanate from every corner of the streets, and it’s especially concentrated towards the riverbank just as yuta had alluded to.

yuji readies himself as he makes his way there, having to stealthily exercise a few low grade curses in the process. when he finally arrives at the black mist, he nearly passes out. the smell is overwhelming, and he can barely see a thing.

“christ,” he mutters, pulling his face mask out of his pocket and placing it over his nose and mouth. 

he moves silently, eyes searching hastily for the heart of the cursed energy. his breath stutters for a moment when they land on a curled-up body lying on the gravel a few feet away. somehow, even from as far of a distance as he’s standing from it, he can see their tears. and the wails, god the wails, break his heart; they’re so full of pain and turmoil that he hesitates to take another step forward.

but you notice him, and you shriek, the black mist swirling violently around you as your anxiety rises. your emotions affect your abilities, you know this much. but that’s all you know about it. your parents abandoned you at the age of ten, leaving you to fend for yourself as a mere child. survival for you consisted of hiding in bushes to protect yourself from potentially dangerous humans and natural conditions. you never learned what was wrong with you nor how to control it, no one was around to teach you. as you grew older, you picked up bits and pieces of understanding from meeting other curses, yet still, many things remained unknown.

“w–who are you?” you shudder, eyes wide as you stare at the man before you. he looks kind, but then your eyes drop to the pistol in his hand, and your heart breaks. you thought maybe, just maybe, he was someone coming to save you. “ha,” you huff out a weak laugh, “are you here to kill me?”

yuji swallows. his hands are shaking around the trigger. “yes.”

he senses it. he knows that you’re not like other special grades, that your moral compass is sound. your energy draws him in like a moth to a flame, because he was once like you– burdened with abilities he had to learn to control before he destroyed everything.

but orders are orders, and he doesn’t know if you’re capable of reacting the same way he did when he was once in your shoes. he points the barrel at you as he dares to take another step forward, your heart racing from the click of the safety being switched off. 

three more steps.

one more.

the metal rests tautly against your forehead, and you don’t dare to move an inch. he can hear your shaky breaths and see the red of your eyes from crying; he thinks that if he closes his eyes while he takes your life, it will make things easier for him to complete the job.

but then you whimper, and his heart completely shatters in that moment. he looks at you, body shaking not from the cold, but from fear, slowly lowering the gun to point it back towards the ground. you don’t know what to do, what to say. is he… sparing you?

“w–what are–”

bang.

the piercing clang of the bullet indents the earth and you scream from the sudden loudness of it all. you’re just staring back at him, confused yet grateful.

“i have to make it convincing,” yuji states, clicking the safety on once again before putting the pistol away. “the bullets are made of highly lethal cursed energy. i only had one left.” you just blink at him, still trying to process what had happened. “they know my aim is impeccable,” he continues, “so if they think i shot it, whatever happens next will be seen as beyond myself rather than failure as a sorcerer. they trust me.” he pulls the mask down, revealing his face.

“why,” you croak, shuddering as he kneels down to your level, “why are you letting me go?”

“because,” there it is again, the look from earlier that convinced you he is a kind person, “i know that you don’t mean to hurt anyone.” his words rest comfortingly in your chest, and you see that the black mist begins to dissipate. he notices, too. “what’s your name?”

“y/n,”

“how old are you?”

“i don’t know,” you try to think, “somewhere between twenty five and three hundred at this point.”

he frowns. “and you’ve been roaming around on your own since you were a child?”

your mouth drops open in shock. “how did you know?”

“i just do.” truthfully, he wasn’t sure himself, how he knew that you’d struggled since you were so young. it came to him almost as if it were a message from the gods. “something just… told me, i guess?”

you laugh, and he’s a bit startled as the now translucent grey mist dances with your joy. he truly finds it fascinating how your cursed technique changes along with your emotions and moods. “are you a god?” you tease.

“i suppose sorcerers are something like that, aren’t we? do you know what a sorcerer is?”

you nod. “i’ve learned a number of things over the years from other cursed spirits i’ve met, but i still lack a lot of knowledge.”

“i can teach you,” yuji offers, sending you a kind smile, “there’s a lot i don’t know, too, but i know what is necessary.”

“how?” you question. “i can’t leave this place. i’m afraid if i do, i’ll accidently destroy all of tokyo… maybe even beyond that.”

“then, i’ll come to you,” he says, “when i can, i’ll come here in the evenings and help you.”

“you’d really do that?” your eyes are glassy and he feels a pang in his chest.

“i would,” he smiles again, “let’s figure you out together, okay?”

“yuji,” yuta’s voice is stoic and harsh as he walks into the training room. yuji backs away from the punching bag and turns to his friend and supervisor. “that curse you exorcised the other week… did it actually die?”

yuji’s brows furrow. of course, he knows the truth, but he can’t say that. “i thought so,” thankfully he’s good at lying. it’s a skill he picked up over the years for protective measures, but he only uses it when necessary. your situation he deemed as such, “why, what happened?”

“all of katsushika was destroyed last night,” yuta says. yuji’s heart stops. all he can picture is the inhabitants screaming in terror whilst you cry and beg yourself to stop. “houses have been ripped apart, blood is painting the streets… it looks like our job here is far from finished. we need to destroy that curse.”

yuji doesn’t know what to say. he just tries to breathe, slowly nodding. yuta takes his leave shortly after.

that evening, yuji looks for you instead of going straight home after work to take a hot shower and sleep like he knows he should. he’s scared for you and his heart burns with sorrow for those you’ve harmed.

he feels sick. seeing everything that yuta described right in front of his very eyes makes him feel faint, weak. it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but this time, it feels different. 

“y/n!” he grits his teeth, yelling your name as he runs towards the river. the mist is thicker and darker than before, and there’s an agonizing, demonic groan originating from deep within. “fuck, where are you?!” he’s suffocating as he trips over an object he can’t define, squinting his eyes and trying to locate your shadow in the center of the storm. 

“y–yuji,” you choke. he hears you call him, but it’s distorted and ominous. he isn’t scared of you, though. his concern rests in if he can get you to safety or not. he knows full well yuta is gathering up a group of sorcerers with the intent to contain then kill you. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” you repeat like a prayer, legs curled up against your chest as you rock back and forth. you can see him, but he can’t see you. you desperately want to reach out and grab his hand.

“tell me where you are,” he coughs, crawling forward, “i need you to lead me.”

you hesitate, but do respond to him. “just a little further and you’ll reach me.” his hand finally brushes against the sole of your boot a few moments later. “here i am.”

the mist begins to calm once again, and yuji lets out a dramatic exhale both from finally finding you and being able to breathe normally again. 

he feels happy to see you, but worry swells in his chest when he notices how destroyed you look. you're pale as a ghost, brittle and quivering. your eyes are bloodshot and puffy, too. he knows why, how could he not? you just massacred an entire neighborhood without even knowing how.

“what happened?” he asks calmly, sitting down beside you. he rests his hand comfortingly on your thigh and you sniffle. 

“i– i don’t know. i was sleeping and had a nightmare, the next thing i know i’m awake and seeing everything around me set ablaze and people screaming on the streets.” you lift your palms up to him, the ones he couldn’t make out in the dark mist earlier. they’re covered in soot, almost like they’d been burnt to a crisp, but no wound is present. you look so afraid. “i did this, yuji… i killed all of those innocent people in my sleep. i can’t–,” you choke out a sob, and his grip tightens on you, “i can’t live like this. i never asked for these abilities. i never meant to… fuck,” you hiss, pulling at your hair aggressively. yuji’s free hand reaches up to grab your wrists and stop you, and though you’re crying uncontrollably, you manage to calm a little from more of his touch. “you should have killed me,” you grit, looking at him with eyes full of both truth and sorrow, “you should have left the gun pressed to my head pulled the fucking trigger.”

“no,” he asserts, looking you dead in the eye with determination. “i trust my instincts that you’re not a bad person. you deserve a chance.”

“but, yuji!” you yell, and he jumps, surprised by your raised voice, “i killed them! they’re dead! these beautiful people are dead because of me!”

yuji doesn’t know how to prove his point to you past the fact that he’s experienced the same thing. when sukuna was finally released from his body all those years ago, he felt the same remorse and pain that you are now, but he eventually learned that it wasn’t his fault. it never was. and you, though he has no knowledge of where your abilities come from, yuji’s convinced they aren’t innate. 

he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you against his chest. you’re taken back at first, but soon allow yourself to sob in his arms as you return the hug, hot tears soaking through his sweater as your shaking fingers curl into the wool. he just sits there, hands cupping the back of your head as he tries to soothe you, tries to calm your restless heart. his fingers running through your hair has a quicker effect on you than you realize. 

the black mist warps abstractly from your rollercoaster of emotions, but it eventually settles into the translucent, baseline grey as your pulse steadies.

yuji doesn't expect to see tsurugi, yuta’s grandson, standing there when his surroundings become visible again. their eyes widen once they take notice of each other, and though yuji’s panicking, he squeezes you tighter rather than push you away.

“yuji… what is the meaning of this?” tsurugi furrows his brows in confusion. “why are you holding that curse?”

“their name is y/n,” yuji shocks himself with his hostile outburst. tsurugi doesn’t know the truth, he’s just doing his job. 

“it has a name?”

“don’t call y/n ‘it’!” tsurugi winces, stepping back slightly from the fellow sorcerer, “and they’re not a curse!”

“but the energy… it’s the most powerful i’ve seen in a while–”

“y/n needs help, not death!”

tsurugi doesn’t know what to say, but something tells him that yuji’s reasons are valid. 

he sighs, kneeling down in front of your two huddled bodies. “my grandfather won’t be happy about this.”

“then you better keep your mouth fucking shut.”

tsurugi laughs. seeing yuji angry like this was always entertaining, because he rarely acted out as such. “y/n can’t stay here,” he says, “we need a secure location, both for their sake and the city’s.”

yuji’s apartment is small, but can comfortably occupy two people.

“are you sure about this?” you ask hesitantly, twiddling your thumbs in the doorway.

he sends you a soft smile and nods. “i’m sure. plus, you’ll be safe here. the property is infused with cursed energy that cancels out abilities. nothing can hurt you and vice versa as long as you stay within the complex’s boundaries. none of my colleagues are allowed to stop by unannounced, either, and there’s no way for them to sense your presence.”

“that… sounds ironic,” you chuckle, “a curse that erases curses, yet itself stays visible,” tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. yuji watches your movements, remembering what your pretty locks felt like beneath his fingertips when he held you earlier. his stomach flips. 

“cursed energy and the entire power system has a funny way of working,” he hums, “it’ll make more sense as we move further along in your studies.”

he heats up a pot of tea and prepares a quick egg fried rice while you shower and become more accustomed to your new living situation. yuji nearly drops the scorching pan onto his foot when you step out of the bathroom with your hair up in a messy bun and sporting the oversized tshirt he lent you. he’s never asking for it back now. fuck. 

he shakes his head briefly in an attempt to clear his head, finishing up serving the rice into a set of blue, floral ceramic bowls. he joins you in the couch shortly after, placing the tray with your food and drinks on the coffee table in front of you. “eat up,” he smiles, “i’m actually a pretty damn good cook.”

your heart doesn’t know what to do with itself. this is the first time you’ve ever been shown any amount of care, and your head is spinning. it’s hard to trust, though. you think yuji is a good person whom truly wants to help you, yet at the same time, how could you fully believe that when your whole life all you’ve ever been shown is the opposite?

yuji notices your hesitation. he never pushes, always keeping a certain amount of distance that allows you to feel safe and come to a conclusion in your own time. he chats with you casually, which confuses you slightly. is he your elder? or are you his? you’re not even sure if this is your first life or not. but here you are, presently in your twenties, trying to navigate whatever the hell this is. whatever you are.

“i’m sure you wonder why i believe you’re a good person after what you’ve done,” yuji starts slowly, setting his empty bowl back onto the tray before lifting the mug of tepid tea up to his lips. he doesn’t mean any harm by the statement, and you know that, though the brutal honesty stings a little.

“yeah,” you respond, voice small, “i do.”

“it’s because i was like you once.” your eyes shoot wide open as you whip your head to look straight at him. he chuckles and he sips his tea. “you seem surprised,” he smiles with a hint of playfulness. he continues. “when i was in high school, my body was possessed by the king of curses. ryomen sukuna, ever heard of him?”

you nod slowly. “i’ve heard that name before.”

“he’s sealed away in a very secure place now. no one has even dared to search again after what happened back then.” the bottom of his mug taps the coaster, “at first he had little control over me, but once the cursed energy increased in power, i lost to him almost entirely.” he looks at you and his expression is warm. “i don’t think you are a curse, i think somewhere in your lifetime a curse possessed you.”

you want to believe him. you really do. “how can you be so sure?”

“because if you were really a malevolent being, i don’t think you would be crying your heart out over humans that are dead because of you.”

his words hit you hard in the chest, and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly to let them settle. 

you try to believe this isn’t who you are. you are not bad. none if this is your fault.

but you don’t know. 

you fall asleep shortly after, belly fed and body full of warmth as your head falls onto yuji’s shoulder. he smiles to himself, choosing to stay seated for a while so as to not disturb you. once he starts to feel himself becoming tired, he gently lifts you into his arms and takes you to his bedroom, carefully tucking you into the sheets. 

“yuji,” your voice is quiet, but for once, it doesn’t sound terrified. 

his hand pauses on the doorknob on his way out as he slowly turns back to face you again. “yeah?” he asks softly.

“thank you,” you hum, exhausted as you begin to slip away into slumber again, “i owe you everything.”

he releases a faint laugh. he’s not sure if it’s because you sound so cute when you’re sleepy, or out of ridiculousness that you assumed you owed him anything. maybe both. he is just doing what he feels is right.

“you owe me nothing,” he hums quietly, “just stay alive for me, okay?”

“okay,” you squeak, exhaling softly. “stay with me tonight?”

his heart clenches and his lips part. “what?”

“i want you to stay with me,” you repeat, a bit louder, “you are planning to sleep on the couch, right? i’m sure it’s too small for you. and this is your home, you shouldn’t have to give up your bed for me. you’re already doing more than enough by allowing me to stay here.”

he’s afraid to move, afraid to speak. he wants to say yes, but isn’t sure if he should. he is a man of high self-control, but still. he finds you beautiful. he’s already admitted that much to himself. the last thing he wants to do is make things more complicated and uncomfortable. he’s here to protect and help you, neither of which warrant romantic involvement. 

“please.”

your sweet, raspy voice begs him and he can’t refuse. “sure,” he replies, pulse achieving dangerously high levels. 

he maintains a gap of space between your bodies as he lay on his back beside you; he’s unsure if he’ll sleep even a wink, especially when you roll over with the cutest whine sneaking past your lips and your arm lands across his stomach. he freezes. 

“you’re so warm, yu… ji…”

yeah, he definitely isn’t sleeping at all.

things begin to settle into place after that night. yuji’s home starts to feel like yours, too, and you’re managing to grasp everything that he’s teaching you on a regular basis.

“i know i can’t help you with any real combat training right now,” yuji says apologetically, “but hopefully the concepts and discussion points are enough to suffice for the time being.” 

you nod, biting your lip as you stay curled on the couch hugging a pillow. “everything you’re teaching me is extremely helpful, yuji. thank you.”

he smiles wider than he means to. it’s just, with your dynamic for the past few months, he’s having a hard time hiding how he feels. he loves having you around. your company has brought a flicker of light back into his monotonous, gruesome life. 

you keep it to yourself, but you feel the same way. yuji is the first person to treat you as an equal, and kindly at that. he cares about you so much and it never goes unnoticed. whilst you choose to regularly say ‘thank you’, oftentimes you want to say ‘i love you’ instead.

but you don't, because part of you believes that once this is all over, once you’ve learned to control your abilities and have figured out who exactly you are, you’ll part ways and he’ll just become someone you once knew that helped you through a difficult time in life. 

yuji isn’t thinking that way at all. in fact, he’s working hard behind-the-scenes to figure things out so you can stick around– preferably with him– and live freely without being cursed. 

“i have to get to work,” he thrums, “but there’s leftover rice porridge in the fridge for breakfast. a few eggs, too, if you prefer that.” he slips on his coat, “pizza is in the freezer, onigiri in the crisper. help yourself to anything, as usual.”

“thank you,” you grin, standing up to join him by the front door. he tilts his head at you curiously, because you’ve never done this before. normally, you stay seated on the couch and just bid him goodbye from there. this time, however, your body moves on its own. your arms wrap around his waist suddenly, and his sharp inhale of breath is quiet enough that you don’t quite catch it. “stay safe out there, and don’t catch a cold.”

he wants to kiss you and call off work so he can just love on you all day. but he can’t and he hates it. “i will,” he swallows hard, reluctantly enclosing around you. 

the apartment feels too big when yuji’s gone. it’s practically an expanded studio in terms of size, but it seems like a mansion with countless rooms when he’s not occupying the space with you.

it’s lonely, too. you know it’s for your own good, and to keep others safe. but still, you feel restless. you haven’t stepped beyond the complex in months, because once you cross over that barrier, all hell has the capacity to break loose. 

yuji notices you’re quieter than usual when he comes home that evening, immediately frowning upon seeing you preparing boxed ramen at the stove.

“what happened?” 

you both love and hate that he’s so observant. “nothing,” you say. you’re not lying. nothing ever happens since you’re basically quarantined for the foreseeable future, secluded within the tiny walls that feel like they start to swallow you up at times. sometimes you manage to take a walk outdoors within the boundaries, but it’s not enough. “i just– i just want to be able to go outside without worrying.”

yuji’s stomach sinks as he removes his jacket and shoes, sliding into his slippers before shuffling towards you. he stands behind you and places his broad palms comfortingly on your shoulders. your heart leaps from the touch. 

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes. “i know this isn’t ideal right now. i’m just afraid if you leave, they’ll find you and–”

“i know,” you switch off the burner and sigh, turning to face him with a sad smile, “you don't have to explain. i know i have every right to walk out of here and risk my life, you’re not keeping me here unwillingly and you've never made me feel that way. you’ve never forced me.” he feels a bit relieved. “i know damn well the minute i step past the barrier, i’m fucked. anything could happen. i’m scared of that. at the same time, i’m going crazy in this space. it’s beautiful, it’s warm– fuck, i’ve never had a real home up until now– but i’ve also never been nauseous from the sight of white paint and now it’s all i ever feel lately.”

yuji feels awful. all this time, he never knew how you felt. he was so scared of what would happen to you that he believed his only option was to have you stay with him, somewhere he knew you wouldn’t be harmed. you’re right, he’s never forced you to stay, never said anything in order manipulate you into doing so. you could leave at any moment. 

his fear clings onto his chest like stubborn glue and all he can do in that moment is hold you tight. you sink into him without hesitance, squeezing your arms firmly around his body. you feel a tear land on your exposed shoulder.

“i’m sorry,” yuji croaks, fingers curling hopelessly into the material of your shirt, “i’m so sorry you’re unhappy. i never wanted you to feel that way again.”

“it’s not your fault,” you assure him, nails running comfortingly up and down his back, “it’s the world’s for being so cruel.”

he leans back enough to look at you, following your thumbs until they land on his cheekbones to wipe away his tears. he sniffles, and he can’t stop staring into your eyes– they’re so pretty and bright, despite you sharing you’re feeling so empty. your gaze catches his, and in that moment, time stops. the ramen has been long forgotten, and his face sears beneath your hands.

“yuji,” you call his name gently.

he sucks in a shallow breath as if he hadn’t had oxygen in years. “yeah?”

“i love you.”

his eyes grow wide, but he doesn’t look away. “you– you what?”

your smile makes his chest want to explode. you are the most beautiful person to ever grace the world in his eyes. “i love you,” you repeat, feathering your thumbs across his cheeks again. this time, with the intention of showing him your deep affection, rather than trying to rid him of his heartbroken tears. “i love you, yuji itadori. you’ve shown me nothing be pure love since the day we met, and i’m forever grateful for that. i can’t imagine my life without you. i wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you. despite my own inner battles, you have made me the happiest person on earth.”

he releases a strained sound as his head falls forward, chest erupting with laughter a few seconds later in both joy and disbelief. “holy fuck,” he huffs, “i– i never thought i’d hear those words coming from you.”

“is it that shocking?” you tease, dropping your hands from his face to rest them at his waist again. “i thought i was doing a good job at dropping hints.”

“unfortunately, i was too preoccupied with my own feelings towards you to notice.”

you stick your tongue out playfully and move your head in closer to his. “does that mean you love me, too?”

“guess i’m not the only one who missed all the hints.” he smirks. 

your lips finally press together, and it feels like centuries of pent up love are being poured into each other at this moment. his hands hold your jaw so delicately firm while he deepens the kiss, pressing your back against the front of the stove. you’re both completely breathless when you decide to break apart, pressing your temples against one another as you take a minute to catch your breath.

“i love you so fucking much, y/n,” yuji exhales, “i won’t allow you to feel so broken anymore.”

“yuji itadori.”

yuji jumps from the low roar originating out of yuta as he storms into the training room, slamming the door shut behind him. he’s never used his full name like that, and he’s only ever seen him this angry at persistent cursed spirits.

yuji swallows hard, feeling afraid of his friend and boss for the first time in a very long time. he opens his mouth to speak, but yuta’s booming voice stops him before he can.

“how long?” he’s pacing along the floor, clenching his jaw so hard yuji thought it might break. “how fucking long have you been housing that curse?”

yuji feels dizzy, ears beginning to ring as he starts spiraling into a panic. fuck, fuck, fuck! how did he find out?

“answer me!”

his breath shakes. “s–six months.”

yuta’s jaw falls slack, and then laughs hysterically in shock. “six… six months? are you fucking serious right now?” yuta loses his balance for a moment, yuji running over to his side to help him sit down on the couch in the room. this amount of stress can’t be good for an elderly man. yuta slaps his hand away, “don’t touch me,” and yuji flinches, stepping back. 

“i’m sorry…” he exhales, darting his eyes towards the ground, “y/n doesn’t want to hurt anyone–”

“it has a name?” yuta scoffs. “yuji, i trusted you to do your job! katsushika is obliterated because of that thing, and you’ve been protecting it this whole time?” yuji feels scared. “you, of all people, should know how dangerous curses of that grade are!” he glares at him, irises full of disappointment. “you’re on probation for the foreseeable future. starting today, you’re only handling paperwork.”

“yuta– wait, let me explain–”

“what possible explanation could you have for this?”

“my experience with sukuna is exactly why i saved y/n! they’re not like the others, they’re like me!”

“where’s your proof?”

yuji goes quiet. “i… haven’t found it yet. i just… feel it.”

yuta sighs, leaning forward into his hands as his elbows rest on his knees. “a week. one fucking week to plead your case and if you have nothing, it’s over. i’m being lenient here, giving you the benefit of the doubt.” he looks up at yuji’s panicked expression, “your insatiable desire to help others that you see yourself in is going to get you and everyone else killed.”

“i won’t let that happen.” yuji swears.

yuta’s smile tries to be empathetic, but its sad. “tell that to the thousands dead in katsushika.”

yuji feels sick when he returns home to you that evening. he fully expected to find you already dead on his floor, assuming yuta to have sent men without a warning to storm into his apartment before he confronted him earlier, regardless that he offered him a chance to prove his argument. he thought maybe it was a bluff. a situation like this would be the only time the rule of ‘not showing up unannounced’ could be nullified. 

but you’re there, smiling so brightly at him from the kitchen counter as you hold up a pot of steaming, freshly made omurice to show off. yuta truly hadn’t made any moves yet. 

“hi, yu,” you beam, “i made dinner! sorry i didn’t wait for you, i was starving,” you chuckle, placing the pan back on the trivet. 

he can’t help it. yuji bursts out into tears, falling to his knees as his sobs echo piercingly off the walls. you feel frantic, spoon clanging against the plate as it drops from your hand, jumping out of the stool immediately to go to him. 

“yuji?” you pry gently, “baby, what’s wrong?”

“they know,” he gasps, wetting the floor as he grasps at you desperately. “s–somehow they found out about you.”

“oh,” is all you say, pulling him closer against your chest. this is something you expected to happen eventually, and frankly, you were surprised it hadn’t sooner. a few tears of your own spill out as yuji sobs into your chest, your two bodies sitting helplessly on the kitchen floor. “hey, it’s going to be okay,” you try coax him, “i’m still here, i’m alive.”

“i–i don’t know,” he chokes, head tilting up to look at you. his tears have slowed a little, though his heart is still deeply shaken. “if i can’t figure out what– who you are in a week, then they’re going to kill you.”

you kiss him gently, being sure your lips tell him that you’re safe for now. “we’ll figure it out, i know we will.”

the knocking comes three days later while you’re home alone. it’s loud and impatient, your body jerking abruptly from the sudden bang on the door. 

you don’t move at first. it’s very easy to tell it’s not yuji on the other side. you cautiously lift your body from the couch, careful not to creak the floor as you slowly shift towards the balcony. the fire escape offered you a way out.

the knocking starts again, this time more thunderous than before, just as you slide open the balcony door.

your eardrums rupture as there’s a clang similar to the bullet yuji shot away from you the night you met, the door slamming open aggressively against the wall seconds later as your eyes meet those of the intruder.

tsurugi’s look brutally cold, and you freeze in place.

why is he here? wasn’t he the one who helped you and yuji?

it starts to make sense. of course it does. he’s the only other person who knows about you. who else would have opened their mouth to yuta?

“good to see you again, y/n.” 

his voice makes you want to vomit. you’re breathing heavily, dragging your weighted body towards the fire escape. but tsurugi’s quicker than you, grabbing your waist and pulling you back over the balcony railing and into the apartment. you kick and scream, his hand slamming over your mouth before anyone else can hear.

“we can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he grits, gripping you harsher. tears flood your eyes as you continue to squirm, but there’s no point. you can’t fight back here without your abilities, and not when you’re drowning in panic, body weak. “hard way it is, then.” 

his fingers press into the side of your neck, your vision quickly growing blurry as everything fades to black. 

where you awake is cold and dark. there’s a distant echo of water droplets, and soon you understand yourself to be underground somewhere, perhaps a cave.

“thank god, you’re alive.”

your head turns sharply towards the voice, eyes growing wide at the sight of yuji in front of you. he’s chained to the wall, managing to drag himself in your direction enough to be a little closer to you. still, several feet of space remains.

“yuji–” the clanging is loud as you feel the pressure on your own wrists, realizing right then you, too, are chained. “where are we? what’s going on?”

“i–i have no idea. i just know tsurugi–”

“good morning, sunshines.” tsurugi sings, making a dramatic entrance into the space.

yuji’s scowling, shaking angrily as he pulls at the metal. “what the fuck is this, tsurugi? why are you doing this?”

“because,” his smile disgusts you. it’s full of arrogance and downright evil. “weaklings like you have no place in this world.”

“what?” yuji spits, grinding his teeth, “if anyone’s weak here, it’s you. couldn’t even fight without being a coward about it first, chaining us to a damn wall?” tsurugi’s nostrils flare as he picks up his foot, shoving the heel of his boot into yuji’s chest. he groans as his back slams against the protruding rocky wall behind him, then laughs in pure rage and pain. “you should have tried me back then, tsurugi.”

“shut the fuck up or i won’t hesitate to kill you now.”

“yeah?” yuji looks crazy. “pretty easy to figure out this place you’ve got us in is nullifying our abilities, but do you know how to kill someone without your crutch? think you can swing your sword with no cursed energy and actually get a hit from it?”

yuji keeps pushing and you stay silent. you’re not sure what you could say to change anything, nor do you know if tsuguri is capable of what yuji is suggesting. 

tsurugi grabs yuji’s jaw and tilts it upwards aggressively. he digs his heel further, making sure it stings, as his fingertips bury into the hollows of his cheeks. “keep talking and see what happens, bastard.” he seethes, releasing his head harshly enough that it slams against the rocky wall. yuji grunts in agony, but he’s not afraid of him. 

yuta’s already suspicious when he doesn’t hear from yuji that morning. he’s never been one to skip out on work without a heads up first, so naturally, he’s concerned.

tsurugi rushes into headquarters around noon without a word, brushing past his grandfather. must have been a difficult assignment, he thinks. or… something is extremely off about his energy. 

yuta’s brows furrow as he follows tsurugi into the training room, just observing for a few moments before he announces his presence. tsurugi is raging, practically pounding holes into the punching bag with each hook. 

“fucking asshole,” he mutters to himself. hit. “i’m gonna kill him, i swear to god.”

“tsurugi.”

yuta’s voice causes him to pause, slowly backing away from the equipment. “hey, gramps,” he greets, acting as if nothing is wrong, “is there something you need? i’m kind of busy here.”

his eyes narrow slightly, but not too much. “i was just curious if you’d heard from yuji at all. he’s never failed to show up without calling in first.”

yuta notices. the flinch of tsurugi’s thumb, the subtle tightening of his jaw, the quiver in his step. he knows something.

“no idea,” tsurugi shrugs, quickly darting his eyes back to the punching bag. 

yuta’s ability to lie convincingly surely didn’t pass on to his grandson. “well, if you hear from him, let me know.” he says simply before taking his leave.

once he’s back in his office, he quickly calls his most trusted agent to gather a few men for patrol.

“follow him,” he says, “tsurugi’s up to something. stay low and out of sight, you got it?” there’s a low grunt in agreement on the other side of the speaker. 

“yuji,” you wince, watching as he hammers the metal of his cuffs against a protruding piece of the rock wall, “please stop, you’re hurting yourself!”

he hisses as the gravel stabs his palms for the god knows time, pointlessly adding to his already bloody and bruised skin.

“but i think i almost–”

“yuji.”

he blinks at you, eyes lowering as his face grows into a look of defeat. he knows you’re right. he’s desperate, but his strategy isn’t working. he’s only wounding himself.

tsurugi walks in shortly after, carelessly sliding a plate to each of you with a dinner roll and a few cheese blocks.

yuji snorts,“what is this, the renaissance?" then scoffs, “why are you even bothering to feed us when you’re going to kill us both anyway?”

“because i do have some sense of moral,” tsurugi huffs.

“hm.”

eating with cuffed hands is a bit of a challenge, but doable. tsurugi just stares at you and yuji as you eat, like he is plotting how to end you both right in that moment. he might as well have poisoned you two by now– that seems like the fastest, simplest way. 

there’s a loud, booming clatter from just beyond the rocky wall behind tsurugi, presumably near the entrance of where he regularly departs and returns. you drop the bread out of your hand startled. tsurugi whips his head in the direction of the sound, unsheathing his sword. 

“what the hell?” he mutters. “who–” there’s a loud wisp through the air just before he screams, back slamming harshly into the gravel a second later. his hand cups his shoulder where he had been shot, gritting his teeth. “fuck!” he growls in pain, looking at his palm to see it stained with blood.

three men in black suits enter the space just then with guns pointed at tsurugi, none of whom you recognize. yuji gasps beside you when a fourth body emerges from behind the three of them.

“yuta?” he questions in shock. “what are you doing here?”

“i figured something was wrong when you hadn’t shown up to work without notice earlier this week,” he replies, “and my grandson here is a terrible liar.” he glares at tsurugi still hissing in pain in the corner, now restrained by the three suited men. “i had some of my men follow him.” yuta takes a few more steps forward, stopping just mere inches away from your malnourished, shivering body. he sends you an apologetic smile, kneeling down as he takes off his coat to drape over your shoulders. “you must be y/n.” he retrieves a small handgun from his belt, aiming perfectly at the cuffs to break the metal off without harming you. you sigh in relief once your wrists are freed.

yuji’s watching the interaction, still dumbfounded by the turn of events. did yuta find something out about your curse in his absence? he wants you dead, so why is he acting so kind and freeing you?

yuta silently backs away from you, then approaches yuji, offering the same warmth from the cardigan layer he had hidden underneath the jacket. yuji blinks, watching as a gentle smile appears on his face just as he finishes wrapping it around his shoulders. “here,” he says, then makes the same precise shot, metal clanking on the ground moments later.

whilst both you and yuji sit there at a loss for words, yuta begins to speak further. “i… may have figured out what– who y/n is,” he says. his face doesn’t read very happy about it, and yuji’s stomach twists sickeningly. yuta takes a deep breath, then looks directly at you. “it seems you are a dark reincarnation of susanoo, god of storms.” your eyes widen, heart pounding violently. suddenly, the chaotic, clouded dust that always surrounded you makes sense. he looks back at yuji, “i know you don't want it to be the truth, but y/n is a curse. separation is not possible.”

“is the energy something that can be contained?” yuji dares to ask, swallowing hard.

yuta’s hopeless expression doesn't seem to waver. slowly, he shakes his head. “it is far too powerful for even the strongest of sorcerers to control. the only solution is–”

“death,” you complete his sentence, voice low and breathy, but everyone in the room catches it all the same. this is something you have always felt deep within since you were old enough to understand you were different, but tried to ignore it. “the only way it can be stopped is by killing me.”

yuta’s eyes drop to the gravel with a deflated sigh. “yes.” he says. “that’s correct.”

“what?” yuji’s eyes are bursting out from his head as he crawls over towards you, wrapping you tightly in his arms. he looks at yuta again, “how, then? how is it that the suppression barriers are working? if the power is too strong, then why–”

“i don’t know, yuji,” yuta answers honestly, “but if y/n steps outside of the barrier, japan is done for. we’re lucky their full power hadn’t been realized yet when they were roaming around katsushika. but we don’t know how much time we have left until that time comes. and it will.”

“you’re not fucking killing y/n!” yuji yelps, shaking helplessly as he keeps you close.

“he has to,” you gulp, shivering as tears begin to form in your eyes. “if he doesn’t, i’ll destroy everything. he’s right.” you inhale a sharp breath, “i–i can’t live inside the barriers for the rest of my life. that’s a prison sentence,” you look at him, eyes pleading, “death will grant me freedom.”

“y/n…”

you kiss him, feeling the wet tears dripping from his own eyes splash against your cheeks as you stay tightly pressed together, savouring the sweet and final moment together. yuji rests his forehead against yours with his eyes squeezed shut as you pull away. “let me go with you,” he huffs, “i’ve lived over eighty years. that’s long enough.”

“yuji,” yuta calls him, “you know i can’t let that happen. we need you. you’re all we have left that can handle–”

“kill. me.”

yuta’s breath hitches in his throat, chest tightening at the determination burning in his comrades eyes. he wasn’t going to back down.

“you know there are others that are just as strong as me,” yuji asserts, “don’t pretend that’s not true!”

yuta stays silent, simply motioning one of the three men to step up beside him, the other two still keeping tsurugi restrained. 

“are you sure you want this?” yuta asks yuji calmly.

yuji nods. “yes,” he answers in confidence. “if y/n has to die, then i die, too.”

yuta quietly guides the guard to help you and yuji out of the underground– the cursed bullet won’t work inside, as its been established. you and yuji stay obediently perched just beyond the exit, fear glossing over your irises as you stare at the two men, still holding onto each other tightly.

yuta’s hands shake as he releases the second gun from the holster– the ones used back in the cave earlier were full of regular bullets– then lifts the barrel and points it straight at your head. he can hardly stomach ending your life as it is, after understanding yuji’s love and devotion to you, but he definitely doesn’t have any will to do the same to his dear friend, someone he has known for so much of his life. he silently commands the guard to point his gun at yuji. 

“i’m sorry it had to end this way,” yuta’s throat cracks with remorse, tears forming in his eyes as the two of them pull the trigger.

the last thing you feel is yuji’s hand grasping onto yours as a puff of smoke clouds your vision before total darkness. 

It was a beautiful spring day; cherry blossoms were blooming and people were walking all over the school’s festival grounds. Karasu was in his second year of high school, about to enter his third. Miyuki Karasu, his sister, couldn’t believe he was about to be a third year. It felt like just yesterday, he was holding onto her hand and crying because the hallways were too dark. Oh, how times have changed.

Since her college wasn’t too far from home, she had decided to stop by the cultural festival. All around, students were walking with friends, playing silly games and doing the activities, and also working at their respective booths. Miyuki had gotten a map by the main entrance. To be honest, she was mainly here for her brother. After all, they were having some kind of butler/maid cafe, and she couldn’t miss the sight of her brother in a suit serving people tea and coffee… Miyuki had just hoped that Tabito was using those manners she had drilled into him from a young age. It’d probably come in handy for this job. Plus, a picture of him in a butler suit would make great blackmail for the future. 

She glanced at her map. Karasu was in class 2-A, which should be on the second floor. It was the class right next to the first staircase, which shouldn’t be too hard to find. As Miyuki was walking through the campus, she felt a slight wave of nostalgia. Even though she hadn’t gone to this school, her high school had their own cultural festival. It brought her back to her own highschool days; days of youth and innocence. Ah, to go back. She shook her head, brushing off those thoughts. Off to find Tabito in a butler suit!

She found the cafe quickly. Shit, there was quite a long line. Whatever it takes to get that picture. Miyuki fell into the queue. While standing, she looked at the menu. Green tea sounded nice right now…

“Next up in line!” Another butler, probably a classmate of Tabito’s, called out. 

It was her turn to go in. Her eyes darted around the interior of the classroom, where the cafe was being held. There were tons of people, both maids and butlers serving people and paying customers. The decorations around the room were rather simple, Miyuki had noticed, but very well made. She sat down on one of the cushy chairs, glancing around the cafe. Aha! There he was… Tabito-chan in a suit, walking up to her. Upon closer examination, his face looked a little… pissed? Oh, right. Miyuki hadn’t told him that she was stopping by.

“Tabito-chan!” Miyuki grinned, “Awh… you look so cute in that suit!” Before Karasu could react, she took out her phone and took a picture of the cute sight. 

Karasu had a shocked expression on his face, “Tch… Dear sister, mind tellin’ me why yer here without so much as a warnin’?”

“Puh-lease. Can’t even surprise my own brother with my presence now? Plus, once I learned from our parents that you were doin’ a butler cafe, of all things–” Miyuki laughed before continuing her sentence, “I just couldn't pass up that opportunity.”

Karasu can only grit his teeth at those words, “...would ya like anything?”

“Oh, yes please! Could I get one green tea, please?” Miyuki smiles.

“Sure thing.” Karasu quickly turns around on his heels and goes to the back to get a fresh cup of tea. As he’s pouring tea from the kettle into the cup, a voice from behind him speaks up.

“C’mon, Karasu-kun, hustle. We got a lot more people waitin’ to be served,” You say as you enter the back room. As reluctant as you were to do this concept and serve people in a maid dress, Karasu couldn’t deny that you looked… cute, for once.

“Yeah, yeah. Stop gettin’ on my ass, [name]. I got it.” Karasu rolled his eyes, putting the green tea kettle back in its proper spot. 

You let out a short tsk before retaliating, “Just sayin’, jeez.” You get the same green tea kettle and pour the last bit of tea out, “Shit, I’ll have to make more. Karasu-kun? Can ya give this to my table, pretty please? It's just the one across from yours.”

Karasu groans, “Fine, I’ll do it. Even if yer a jerk.” He grabs the tea cup from you and balances it on his tray, “Seriously, why’d they even make ya a maid with that prissy attitude?” And with that, he steps out of the back room to deliver the tea. 

“I could say the same to ya, Karasu-kun!” You call out to him. 

As Karasu steps out, he makes his way to your table first so he has time to chat with his sister, even if it was only for a minute. He hands the green tea to the guy at the table, making sure to thank him for his patronage.

Karasu puts the green tea down in front of the man, “Here is your green tea, sir. Thank you for coming to our cafe.”

The man nods his head and thanks Karasu. He doesn’t have to walk far from the current table he’s at to reach his sister. 

“And here is your tea, dear sister.” Karasu turns up his customer service to the max for his older sister. He didn’t want a lecture on manners again…

“Hm.” Miyuki takes a sip of the tea, “It’s good. Good job, Tabito-chan.”

“Thanks. I gotta head off though, or [Name]-san will yell at me for slacking. We’re super stacked.”

“Ah, [Name]-san?” Miyuki raises an eyebrow, smirking.

“Tch. Don’t even start with that bullshit–” Karasu frowns. 

“Yeah, yeah. C’mon. Go back to working. I’d hate to distract you.”

Karasu grumbles, “Right… right… Sorry ‘bout that. I’ll be on my way now.” 

Miyuki nods and sips her tea. It’s fun seeing her brother at school, acting like this. As she’s observing the cafe, she sees you and Karasu running around. Maybe you’re the [Name]-san Tabito was referring to? Huh, it couldn’t hurt to find out. Plus, she had been wanting a pastry from here. Perhaps some strawberry cake? After a few minutes, Miyuki decided it was her time to strike. Right now, you were roaming around and talking to customers, making sure that they were feeling welcome. 

As you passed by her table, she called out to you, “Excuse me?”

You turned your head, “Oh, me? Do you need any service, ma’am?” You smile sweetly.

Huh– you seemed oddly sweet for a kid Tabito didn’t seem to like, “Oh– yes, in fact! May I purchase a slice of strawberry cake?” Miyuki got out her wallet and handed you the money. 

You took the money from her hands, bowing gratefully, “Coming right up!”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but think that the lady looked familiar. She had purple hair, a sharp jawline, and even a mole on her face. But you just couldn’t place the mark on it. Have you seen her before? You think about it as you go to the back to grab a slice of cake. Taking the cake from the stand, you place it on your plate and walk out to give it to the lady. As soon as you do, you’re greeted with the sight of the same lady… ruffling Karasu-kun’s hair? You walk toward her, putting the slice of cake down. You’re still quite confused by the sight. 

“I… Karasu-kun? What’re ya doin’ here? Don’t you have other tables to serve? I can’t be doin’ all the work ‘round here.” You say, a little pissed off. You place the slice of cake down in front of her.

“Tch.” Karasu rolls his eyes, “My sister’s been annoyin’ me.”

“Your sister…?” You look between the two of them. No wonder she had felt so familiar! “Oh, you’re Karasu-kun’s sister. Nice to meet you.” You bow to her. 

“Yes! I am! Call me Miyuki! Sorry for gettin’ Tabito off task.” She apologizes to you.

“No! No– it’s fine. I shouldn’t have just made that assumption. Yer both family, after all.” You say, a bit sheepish. Gosh; that was a bit embarrassing. You make a mental note to watch your words more often. “I’ll leave ya both alone now–”

“Oh– you’re good, don’t worry about it. But… I just wanted to say that you make a really cute maid. Don’t you agree, Tabito-chan?” Miyuki had that evil smirk on her face; the kind that she has on when she’s plotting something.

Karasu stammers, which is quite unlike him, “I–” You eye karasu down as he gulps and finishes his sentence, “I guess… But that doesn’t mean anything.” You can barely see it, but you swear the tips of his ears are red. 

Miyuki smirks. Her plan is working, “Oho? Well, guess ya really are a cute maid if even my baby brother agrees. Anyways, Tabito, shouldn’t ya go now? I think that table over there is calling for you.” Miyuki practically shoves him away while redirecting her attention back to you.

The older Karasu clears her throat before looking at you, “Do ya mind if we have a little chat? I’m curious about the [Name]-san Tabito’s always tellin’ me about.” Miyuki wouldn’t say always… but a little bluff couldn’t hurt.

You look at your watch, “I suppose I can take my break now.” You sit across from her. 

Miyuki starts off by asking, “I’d hope Tabito is treating ya well in class. What’s he even like at school anyways? Nowadays, I barely hear about anything he’s doin’ in class. It’s always about soccer.”

“Hm… well… He’s very– interesting, to say the least.” You say.

Miyuki continues, prying, “Would you say yer friends with him? Is he even a good classmate? Y’know, I practically raised that boy ever since he was a toddler, so I’d hope so.” She probably sounds hella nosy, but she can dismiss it as being ‘doting’ and ‘worried’. She knows something is going on between the two of you… but she just can’t prove it.

Ah, that must be why she’s prying into this. If you were in her place, you’d do the same, “Well, we’re not friends. I wouldn’t say. He’s just more of my… rival, perhaps?” You concluded. 

Miyuki questions that, “A rival…? Interesting.”

You chuckle, “To someone outside of our class, it wouldn’t make sense. But that’s the best thing I can come up with.”

“Ah… I see, I see.” Miyuki nods, “How’d that even start.”

You proceed to explain, “Well, it started just in grades, but slowly transformed into these other competitions. Actually, we’re competing right now to see who gives the best service during the festival. That’s why I insisted we be put in the same shift–” 

“So you’re just rivals, right?” Miyuki asks, still seeking that confirmation. 

Something about her tone makes you second guess that answer, “Uh, yes. Just rivals.” You repeat.

“Anyways, I think I’ll be heading out now. I don’t wanna take up your whole break” She stands up, but not before stacking her empty tea cup on her plate. “Nice meeting you, [Name]-san. I hope we’ll see each other again.”

“I– nice to meet you too, Miyuki-sama.” You smile.

“Oh– don’t be so formal. Just Miyuki-san is fine!” She pats your back.

“I see. Bye, Miyuki-san.” You wave goodbye to the older karasu. Huh… She seemed nice enough. How could someone so outgoing and friendly be siblings with your arrogant and annoying rival? Maybe some things like that weren’t meant to be answered that easily. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Onee-san…” Karasu walked into the house and saw his older sister laying on the couch, watching TV.

“Yes, Tabito?” Miyuki asked, “What is it and be quick.”

Karasu gritted his teeth, “What were ya thinkin’ earlier at the cafe!” Karasu’s ears were definitely red now.

“Hey, Tabito. Do ya like [Name]-san?” Miyuki smirks as he freezes up. Got him…

Karasu is trying to defend himself, “No! It’s not like that at all!”

“Sure. Y’know, your nose always scrunches up when yer lyin’. Did ya know that?” Miyuki laughs as Karasu holds his nose.

Karasu switches the topic, “Nevermind that– but what were ya thinkin’?! Makin’ me call her cute?!”

“Jeez- I was only tryna help. Plus, you didn’t have to say she was cute.”

“I– But still!” Karasu stammers out. 

“So, let me ask again, do you like [Name]-san?”

“...yes” Karasu looks down at his feet. It reminds Miyuki of when he was still a little kid.

“Anddddddd that’s what I thought!” Miyuki hops up from the couch to ruffle his hair, “Awwwwwww~ does Tabito-chan have a crush on his rival in class?”

“H-hey! Stop that– How’d ya even know about that last part.” Karasu questions.

Miyuki replies, “Oh, [Name] told me during our chat. That does seem quite like something you’d do though! Falling for an academic rival. That’s straight out of a manga.” Miyuki gushes. 

“Oh shut up. Plus, I highly doubt that she likes me like that.” Karasu reasons. 

Miyuki protests against that, “Well you never know!”

“Uhhuh…” 

“Well, she isn’t taken, right? Does she like anyone?” 

Karasu shakes his head, “Not that I know of.”

Miyuki lets out a slight murmur, “Then it’s settled. If she’s not taken, it’s fair game. I’ve been waiting for this day, Tabito-chan!”

Karasu gives his sister a puzzling look.

“Welcome to ‘How to Woo a Girl: 101!’ by Miyuki Karasu”

STEP ONE:

“Okay, first off, what the hell does that mean? And the name’s so cheesy,” Karasu complains.

She refutes, “Tch. You should be grateful I’m helping you. I could leave yer stinky teenage boy ass to fend for yourself, couldn’t I? And it means I’m going to be teaching you how to get the girl.”

“I… fine. Okay. How do I… ‘woo’ a girl?”

“Speakin’ of stinky teenage boy ass– go shower first. You fuckin’ stink–” Miyuki laughs. 

Karasu proceeds to sniff himself, “Fine– let me take a quick shower.”

As soon as Karsu finishes with that, he goes to his room, finding his sister already waiting. She’s sitting in his desk chair, scrolling on her phone, “Finally, yer back. Now sit down, I got a lot of explaining to do.”

Karasu takes a seat on his bed, listening intently to whatever advice his sister was about to give. As unserious and teasing as she might be sometimes, she genuinely could lock in for things like this. She clears her throat, “Okay, so first off. Step one; ya gotta be smooth about it. You know, complimenting her and all. But don’t be too strong about it, or else yer gonna come off as a jackass. There's a balance to it. Keep the environment light and welcoming,” Miyuki explains. 

Karasu nods at her words, “So just be… friendly is what yer sayin’.”

Miyuki clasps her hands together, satisfied, “Yes! See, you’re gettin’ it!”

“...” Karasu hesitates, “She’s uhm. Kinda my rival though.”

“Yes, I know. But ya gotta elaborate on what that means.” 

“Uhm. Half of our conversations are just me insulting her and [Name]-san doing the same back…” Karasu gulps.

Miyuki can only sigh at his words, “Shit. Sounds like we got a real problem on our hands. Now…” She thinks about her words for a second, “I think I got it… just do exactly as I say.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~ Karasu walks into the classroom about five minutes earlier than usual. This was crucial to the plan; as Miyuki had said. You were sitting in your spot by the window; the spot next to his desk. Karasu placed his things in his cubby and sat down. Noticing him in the classroom a bit earlier than you was unexpected, but not totally unwelcome. After all, it gave you the opportunity to show him your latest quiz score!

“Karasu-kun. May I ask what you got on the last test?” You ask, smugly. 

This was your dynamic; your thing. One of you would ask the other what score they got and whoever got the better score would flex it in the other’s face. It was quite comical, so much so that your classmates had started betting on who was going to get the higher score. You weren’t exactly fond of the betting aspect, but if those idiots didn’t interfere with you, it didn’t matter that much. 

“99 percent. What ‘bout you?” Karasu makes eye contact with you after reading his score from the test paper. 

While you weren’t the type of person to get flustered easily by a small glance, you could feel the tips of your ears getting warm (for whatever stupid reason). You brush it off and put on your usual confident smile, “Ah– well, I got a 100%. Better luck next time, I suppose.”

“Well, good job, [Name]-san. I bet you earned it.” Your eyes widen. What the hell?! This felt so… wrong! Where did your usual Karasu go? 

You’re shocked. More shocked than when you had gotten a 90% on your english paper. The Karasu Tabito; class 2-A’s resident jackass, saying ‘good job’ to you of all people?! You were speechless for a moment, but slowly gathered up the words to accept the compliment, “T… thank you?”

“Yer welcome, [Name]. By the way, did anything change about your hair?” Karasu pointed out, trying his best to act smooth.

“I… uh… No?” You were confused. Had he noticed that you styled it slightly differently today? It was only a small change in technique and made a miniscule difference. How closely was this guy paying attention to you! Was Karasu Tabito secretly a pervert? Yep, you concluded. That must be it!

“Hm? It looks different to me. I don’t know.” Karasu brought up.

“... I styled it slightly differently today,” You admit, “It practically made a miniscule difference. Only a pervert would notice that detail.”

“Hey– hey– what’re you tryna say about me, [Name]?!” Karasu stammers.

You grin, “Oh? You’re stuttering, huh? Guess I caught ya, pervert.”

“No– I swear it isn’t like that–” Karasu reasons. Shit– day one and he’s already failing.

“Sure. Okay.” You brush it off. 

RATING: 4.5/10

STEP TWO:

Later that night, as Karasu is recounting the story to Miyuki, she could only laugh at it. 

“So, yer tellin’ me she accused you of being a pervert? And her hair? Do you really pay attention to her that much?” Miyuki manages to get out in between giggles.

Karasu scoffs, “What else was I supposed to say? Ya didn’t tell me I had to do certain stuff– ‘n I’m just sayin’ it how I see it. Her hair did look different–”

Miyuki finally settles down, “Okay, okay, I get it. God– they grow up fast. Well, anyways, we gotta figure out a new method. I don’t think complimentin’ her’s the way, especially since y’all are like… rivals”

“And how do I do that?”

“Simple! Step two; what are her hobbies? Think ya can figure that out?” The girl asks. 

“I… sure. But why is this information relevant?” Karasu questions. 

“Okay. TRUST– this is the method. Find out her hobbies and start bonding over them. For example, if [Name]-san has a sticker or something on her notebook about something she likes, then you ask about it. You get what I’m sayin’? Ya gotta bond over it.” Miyuki waves her fingers in the air as she’s explaining. 

The purple haired man nods in response, “‘Kay… I think I got this one. Sounds simple enough.”

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

As Karasu walked into class the next day, he made sure to pay attention to your interests. There were some stickers on your notebook that appeared to be from sort of anime. Perfect thing to ask about. 

“Mornin’, [Name]-san. Whatcha doing?” Karasu leaned over to peer at your notebook, which you were currently drawing in. You’re so invested in your drawing that when Karasu speaks up, you jump a bit. 

“Oh. Hi?” It’s strange. Karasu is acting strangely… nice today?

“You drawing somethin’?”

You look to the side, “Uh… yeah… just some doodles. Why do you care?”

“No reason. Are they related to yer stickers on the front?”

This seems… oddly suspicious. What the hell is he doing, being so nice to you? Is this a ploy of his to catch you off guard and win in whatever he has planned? Well, you’re certainly not gonna let that happen. “They are. Why do ya wanna know?”

“No reason. Who are those characters anyway? They look familiar.” Karasu is trying to keep the conversation going, despite how suspicious and pissed off your face looks. You really had no poker face, huh?

“They’re from this anime…” You tell him the name, “And I’m just doodling him. He’s my favorite character.”

Karasu smiles, “Oh? He looks cool. And I think I’ve heard of that show. Think my sister’s into it…”

“The one I met at the festival?” You question. 

“Yep. She’s my only sibling.” Karasu confirms. 

“Interesting. She has good taste.”

“Yeah. She puts me onto a lot of stuff. Hey– is that anime any good? Should I watch it or somethin’?”

“Well, sure. If you’re into that. It might not be everyone’s cup of tea,” You explain. 

“Oh, well– I’m sure ya have good taste in anime, so it’ll prolly be good.” Karasu tries his hand at flirting a bit.

“Do ya even know what else I watch? Or what the show’s even about? You don’t know if you’ll like it,” You reply, bluntly. What was he trying to do?

Shit. His flirting attempt clearly did not work, “Just sayin’. Ya look like you have good taste in anime.”

“I–” as soon as you’re about to say something, your teacher walks in, earlier than expected. You immediately stop your drawing and flip to the next blank page in your notebook, ready for class. If you’re going to continue to beat Karasu, you need to step up your game. 

RATING: 7/10

STEP THREE:

It’s been a week since that conversation and Karasu has slowly started talking and interacting with you more outside of your usual competitions. It’s weird; you’ve always seen him as your rival and you assumed that Karasu felt the same. So why is he trying to get all chummy with you? Seriously– does he want anything? What if he’s playing the long game and trying to outwit you? Who does he think he is? 

You’re thinking about this whole thing as you’re studying in the library. There’s a test coming up, and in order to beat Karasu, you have to study. Seriously; how does Karasu get good grades while being on the soccer team? Sports like that have to take tons of time and energy. And he had friends? That guy truly is a freak. Sitting in your comfy library chair, you’re scribbling down math equations in your notebook like there’s no tomorrow; locking in so hard that even your ancestors could feel it. Shit– you were knocking down problem after problem so fast and accurately that you feel like you’re actively in flow state. Or at least you were; until a familiar tuft of purple, spikey hair, settles down across from you. Speak of the devil.

“Mind if I sit and study here?” The deep voice asks.

And suddenly, your flow state ends and you were back in reality, “Karasu-kun? Whatcha doing here?”

“I need to study too.” He claims. 

“I’ve never seen ya study before.” You slip in.

Karasu smirks, “Well then, you’ve never seen me at home.”

“What does that mean? Is it an invitation?” You ask. What the hell is he talking about? 

Karasu still has that stupid smile on his face, “Why? Ya want it to be?”

The tips of your ears grow hot. What the hell?! You didn’t know that a stupid crow like him could cause this reaction out of you, “What does that even mean? Anyways–” You switch the topic, “There’re plenty of other open tables. Why choose this one?”

“Well, since yer prolly the smartest person I know, besides me, I wanted to see how you study. And what yer studyin’.” Karasu states, 

You roll your eyes, “Tch. Yer smart enough. Stop tryin’ to spy in on my methods, you fucking pervert.”

And there that name goes again. 

“Will you drop that? I just happen to pay attention to everything. ‘S no biggie, really.” Karasu brushes his observation off. 

“Sure buddy.” You hesitate before continuing, “And fine. I suppose you can sit here.”

With your approval, Karasu takes out his papers and pens at lightning speed, “As long as you tell me your methods.”

“Sure. Ya got yourself a deal, [Name]-san.” Karasu smiles. 

He switches his spot from the chair across you to the chair directly next to you. Gosh, when did it get this hot? Suddenly, you’re aware of every hair on your body and the blood rushing to your head, “You can stay in the chair across from me.”

“Well, we can’t be too loud in the library. Other people are studyin’. And how am I gonna figure out yer methods without talkin’?” Karasu raises a good point. 

“Alright, alright. Anyways… if yer so set on this idea, want me to explain how I’m doin’ the questions?” You give into it. Since he’s here, might as well make the best of the situation. Plus, you’ll probably learn a thing or two from having Karasu here. As much as his face infuriates you sometimes, he is the smartest kid in class; besides you, of course. 

Karasu leans his face in his hands, looking at you, “Go right on ahead, [Name]-san.”

You pay no mind as you explain the problem to Karasu. It goes back and forth like that for a bit; you talking and Karasu talking afterward. It’s still Karasu though, so he’s throwing some teases here and there. Overall, nothing you can’t handle. Plus, you’re sure you’ve called and said worse things to the guy during your stupid petty arguments over nothing. As you’re listening to him, you notice that Karasu, when he’s not arguing over pointless shit, isn’t really that bad. His presence at first was something that you had to tolerate, but not anymore. He’s surprisingly… normal? But the overarching question on your mind is ‘why is he being so friendly toward you?’. Weeks ago, he was being the typical academic rival. What was going on in his mind for this switch up to occur?

Whatever. Studying with Karasu-kun is more important right now anyways. You’ll dwell on your other thoughts later. 

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

As Karasu steps in from the front door, he’s greeted by the sight of his sister waiting for him. When will this girl go back to college?!

“So… Tabito… yer arriving later than usual.” Miyuki clasps her hands together. 

Karasu gulps, “What the fuck are ya planning right now?”

“Oh, nothing. So did the little study date go well?” The older sister laughs at her own joke.

Karasu grumbles, “It’s not that funny… and it wasn’t even a date!”

“Sure buddy… same person who needed advice on how to pull this crush by the way.”

He can’t deny that one…

“Okay, sure. Fine. Maybe.”

“Fuck you mean maybe?! Bitch? This is ‘How to Woo a Girl 101’! This feels like an insult,” She says, dramatically. 

“Okay, well, point is, the,” Karasu lifts up his fingers to do air quotes, “the ‘date’ went good. We just studied together.”

“Well I’d hope so.” Miyuki clears her throat, “Wasn’t my idea spectacular though?”

“Well, I can’t lie, it was the best one so far,” Karasu admits.

Miyuki nods, “Good to know, good to know. Now– just keep it up.”

“Alright. Sounds easy enough.” Karasu nods. 

RATING: 8.7/10

STEP FOUR:

Between soccer practice, class, and other things, Karasu always made time to study with you in the library. It was a small change, but one that certainly wasn’t unwelcome (at least, not at first). While you were still a bit confused as to why Karasu was doing all of this, you didn’t mind it all that much now. These study sessions after school became a habit; you always getting there first to claim the leftmost back table and Karasu getting there a little later and taking his spot next to you. Sometimes, it’d be silent, but other times the sound of your two voices would take over. After a while… it became enjoyable. You never thought that studying with Karasu of all people would be fun. Prior to this development, studying was just… normal. Something you did everyday to keep your top spot in class. But with his presence, even the most boring chapters in your textbook could become fun if Karasu cracked the right joke.

On this particular day, you got your math tests back. Instead of immediately looking at your paper (which was face down on your desk), you leave it there and stop the purple haired man from looking at his score too.

Karasu looks at you in confusion as you stopped him from looking at his score, “Huh? Why the hell’d ya do that?”

You look him straight in the eye, “Let’s look at our tests in the library. We’ll show them at the same time; together.”

“I like the sound of that,” Karasu says, approving of the idea, “Deal. Don’t peak durin’ lunch or somethin’ like that.”

“Alright then.”

“Oh, let’s add onto the challenge. Winner gets somethin’ from the konbini.”

Karasu knows you can never resist a challenge, even if it’s from him, “Fine. Yer on, Karasu-kun.”

Later, you open the doors to the library and find Karasu sitting there, in your guys’ usual spots. You take your regular seat next to him and set your bag on the table.

“Ready, Karasu-kun?” You smile. You’re sure you got a better score than him this time around!

Karasu only smiles at you back, “I’m ready, [Name]-san.”

The both of you dig in your bags in unison. As Karasu is about to show you, you grab his hand and make him place the paper back down on the table.

You think nothing of the gesture until you notice the guy next to you avoiding eye contact while sporting red ears. Weird. Maybe he’s never felt the touch of a woman? It’s okay, you think, Not everyone can pull, “On three.”

“1”

“2”

“3,” You say.

You flip up your paper, showing him first. Similarly, Karasu does the same.

You’re the first to speak up, “You got a 98, Karasu-kun. What’d I get,”

His facial expression falls, “98? You… also got a 98.”

“Hey wait.. So, who wins then?” You have a puzzled look on your face.

“Hm. Let’s call it a tie then,” Your rival concludes.

You groan, “Tch. A tie? That’s so fuckin’ boringgggg. C’mon. Let’s compete in something else. Anything else.”

“Well, whaddya propose?” Karasu questions.

“Uhhhh…” Your mind goes blank and you can’t really think of anything, “Fine. Okay. A tie; but just this once.”

“Alright. We studyin’ first, right?” Karasu asks. 

You nod, poking his shoulder with your mechanical pencil, “Now let’s get to it. I want my prize already.” 

“Yes, ma’am!” Karasu laughs. 

You let out a small giggle before turning your attention back to your work. The sound reaches Karasu’s eardrums. Your laugh isn’t foreign to him; you’d often laugh about getting higher grades or when Karasau got hit by a ball square in the face during PE. The difference was that you were laughing about something he said. He made you laugh! Karasu decided to push those thoughts to the side and focus on his studies. For now, at least. Grades were the only thing tying you two together. To be honest, Karasu wasn’t sure if you guys would have even interacted had it not been for this… rivalry thing? 

After a grueling hour of studying, you two unanimously decided to cut your time short to go to the convenience store. Damn; even if you were only in the library for an hour, you starving. Having Karasu-kun pay for your snack would be so satisfying (even if you had to pay for his too). Finally getting out of that library, you both walk side by side. At this time of year, it was oddly scenic. While you two were walking to the store, you had remained quiet. 

Karasu, aiming to break the silence, spoke up, “What’re ya planning to get, [Name]-san?”

You tell him your usual order, “I’ll probably get a drink or something. The snack’ll depend on my mood,” You state.

Karasu asks, “Ah… Do ya prefer sweet or salty?”

“Hm… like I said, it depends on my mood,” You repeat.

“Alrighty then.”

You both walk inside the convenience store, wandering the isles. The fluorescent lights shine down upon you and your… rival. Karasu Tabito; the boy who became your highschool rival was slowly becoming… something else. Ever since you guys had started studying together, the vibe was gradually starting to change. You can’t lie, you had always perceived Karasu as physically attractive. But god; those ideas were becoming more and more prominent in your mind. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the person you were thinking about, “So, ya chose a sweet snack today, huh? C’mon, let me pay.”

“I– here. Gimme yours.” You say back, holding out your hand. 

Karasu hands you a bag of seaweed chips and some pocari sweat.

You raise an eyebrow, “Pocari sweat? Yer not even at practice right now.”

“That’s for later. We got an extra long practice tomorrow; tournament and all, y’know?”

“Ah… I see.” Taking out your wallet, you walk up to the cash register, “Just this for today, ma’am.” You say to the part time worker.

“Alright,” The worker, Sakura replies, “Next!”

Karasu walks up to the counter with your items, “Here’s the money,” Karasu puts the cash on the counter, “Thank you.”

Sakura only smiles, “Come again! Have a great day.”

You both nod your heads to the woman as you walk out. The afternoon air hits the both of you, “Say, would you wanna… sit on the benches with me?” Karasu looks to the side as he hits you with that question. 

You’re shocked. You didn’t think that Karasu would want to hang out with you in this type of setting. Studying was one thing, but just… talking like friends? This was an entirely different scenario that you did not prepare for at all! Shit– what’ll you even do? What’s Karasu-kun even plotting?

“I… sure. That’s outta nowhere.” You remark.

Karasu smirks, “Why? Ya scared? I don’t bite.”

You think about all the times you two have gone back and forth with insults, “Like I trust that.”

“When’ve I seriously ‘bitten’?” Karasu questions you.

“Think about that with yer pretty little head,” You say.

Karasu can’t help but smile, “You think that my head is pretty?”

You take initiative and walk over to the bench, “Ya know what I mean, Karasu–”

“I guess…” He rolls his eyes sarcastically. 

“Ok screw you.” You look to the side, “And gimmie my food.”

“Alright, princess.” Karasu says mockingly, handing you your snacks. 

“Who’re ya calling princess, you pervert?” You throw back. Two can play at that game. This dynamic… it’s the one you feel most safe with. The most familiar.

“Tch. That was one moment. ’m just observant.” Karasu deflects. 

You’re instantly ready to snap back, “Oh? If yer so observant, what color shoes was the man who just walked past wearing? And don’t look.” 

“Uh– orange, right?” Karasu says with false confidence, trying to not give away the fact that he didn’t know the answer. 

“No. Incorrect. It's blue. If ya were truly observant, then you would’ve gotten it right.”

“Well I don’t pay attention to random strangers on the street.” Karasu reasons. 

“So it’s just me?” You smirk. 

Shit. You’ve cornered him this time, “It’s not just you…”

“Just admit it. Don’t be shy, Karasu-kun. This is a judgement free zone!” You slip out, not expecting anything to happen. 

“Fine. ‘Course I noticed, obviously. But I ain’t a perv!” Karasu denies any accusations, “And I was just pointing it out because–” He stops himself.

You weren’t expecting to get that far with your banter, “Because?”

“I think it looked… not bad.” Karasu tries to not give you any satisfaction. 

“Not bad?”

“Fine. I think the hair looked cute on you. Happy?” Karasu admits, reluctantly. Shit– he’s gonna get clowned on so hard by you. 

Your reaction was not something that he was expecting, “Huh?! Cute?” You rarely had the word cute used on you. Especially by your rival, “That… isn’t too bad.” Dare you say, the word made your heart flutter a little bit. You look to the side before moving an inch closer to the person on the other side of the bench.

“Oh?” Karasu smirks.

“Don’t think about it too much. I’m only getting closer because I want some seaweed chips.” You grab one out of the packet. 

“Hey!” He yells.

You laugh, “Here. You can have a sip of my drink.”

Shit. A sip of your drink? Were you trying to kill him? Karasu is frozen as you hold out the bottle to him, “You want it or not?”

“I’ll– I’ll take it, yeah.” Karasu grabs the bottle out of your hand and takes a sip from it from where you drank. Gosh, you were going to be the death of him. Isn’t this an indirect kiss? Why’re you taking this so unseriously?

You grab the bottle back from him, not batting an eye. “Good, right?”

Karasu’s face heats up, “Yeah. It is.”

The atmosphere changes after that. It gets… warmer. You and him are bickering, as always, but there is something different underneath it. You can’t place your finger on it. However, nothing lasts forever and your hangout (was it even a hangout?) gets cut off. The sun was setting as nighttime approached, typical for the end of the day. To your surprise, Karasu offers to walk you home. ‘It’s dangerous for a girl to be walking alone at night,’ he claims. And to Karasu’s surprise, you actually let him walk you home. So now the two of you are walking together underneath the night sky. He’s nothing less than happy at the fact that you let him walk you home, since that meant you two could spend more time together. The walk there is mostly silent, the only sounds being cars rushing past you and crickets chirping. Finally, after taking a few turns in your neighborhood, you reach the front of your house. You stand by the gate, facing Karasu. 

“I guess I better be leavin’ now,” he puts a hand on his neck, “Have a good night, [Name].”

“G’night, Karasu. Have a good evening.” You leave before he can get a word in. And with that, you go inside and shut the door. Karasu is left standing outside, frozen. That was… something else. Something that he couldn’t put a finger on. 

He doesn’t want to seem like a creep, so he quickly makes his way out of your neighborhood and back to his own house. The purple haired man barely makes it through the door when his sister practically jumps at him.

“Tabito! Did ya do it today?” Miyuki asks.

“Yes… I did.” Tabito admits, reluctantly. He’s in for a talk now…

Miyuki squeals, “Awhhhhh! They grow up so fast! My baby brother went on his first date!” 

“Jeez… It was just a trip to the konbini. ‘S not that serious.” The younger karasu grumbles. 

“Yes it is! What’re ya on about?” Miyuki huffs, “So tell me– how’d it go? Oh! You better’ve walked [Name]-san home, y’know!”

“It was pretty good.” Karasu recalls the bottle incident… “And yeah; I did walk ‘er home.”

“Good. I raised you like that. Now… onto phase two. Ya gotta escalate these hangouts. Since yer friends, the konbini slides. But you can’t keep taking a girl out on a date there. So– as I said, onto phase two. Ya gotta slyly start inviting her to places. Places like a ramen spot, the mall, or maybe the park are good for dates.”

“Huh. Okay, I see.” Karasu nods, taking internal notes. 

“Yer a soccer player, so I trust you’ll find an opening and take it as soon as possible, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

RATING: 8.5/10

STEP FIVE:

It’s been a couple weeks since the first convenience store run. Following that first visit, it’s become tradition. Every Friday, you and Karasu would go there after studying and get some snacks. To be honest, you were starting to look forward to Fridays more than you ever did previously (which is saying a lot) just so you could talk to him even more. Ever since that day he walked you home (he’s been doing it more and more), you couldn’t help but feel warm and nice whenever he was around. It was a step up from the usual cruel atmosphere that used to be around you guys. Whatever this weird thing was… you were quite fond of it. For now, it’s okay with you. To just be around Karasu Tabito was enough. 

You guys just finished a big exam; one that you and Karasu studied immensely for. Sensing your relief that the torture was finally over, he made his move. After all, he wasn’t on the prestigious Bambi Osaka youth team for nothing. 

Karasu turns around in his seat, facing you, “Hey… [Name]? Anything ya wanna do today?”

“Huh? Whaddya mean? Don’t we usually go to the konbini?” You’re confused. Why is he asking you this all of a sudden?

“I mean like actual places. We can take a break from studying.”

“I… I’m not sure.”

“Ya like karaoke? The mall? Uh– maybe the park?”

“Not karaoke,” You say, “Hm… the mall I guess. But why’re you asking me this?”

Karasu looks at you, determined, “Lets hang out today. C’mon. Get yer bag.”

“At the mall?” You ask. You’re not sure if that’s a place Karasu really likes. If you guys are hanging out, then you want to make sure that Karasu is at least semi interested in the place. 

“Yes. Ya said the mall right? So we’re goin’.” Karasu states firmly.

“Do you even like the mall? If we’re goin’, I wanna make sure that ya at least like the place a bit.” You state your perspective.

“Eh, I’m sure we can find somethin’. Get yer bag and let’s go.”

You do as he says, grabbing your bag from the cubbies and walking out the campus and to the train station. The train ride there is nothing special; the usual. It’s filled with other highschoolers (like yourselves), adults in suits, and little kids holding their parents’ hands. That last sight brings you back to when you were little. You step out of the train, along with Karasu and go to the mall right beside the train station. It isn’t huge, but all of the stores are to your interest and liking. There’s clothing shops and even a pop-up selling merchandise from that anime that you like! You’re immediately dragging Karasu to random stores, trying on clothes, and scanning the isles. It’s been ages since you’ve been here and it’s just as good as you remember!

You’re now in the dressing room, trying on this top that you found. It’s in your exact size and fits your style perfectly! It’s even on sale! Right outside the dressing room, sitting on a bench, is Karasu who’s scrolling on his phone. 

You decide to ask him about the top that you’re wearing. “Karasu?” You call out, sticking your head out of the dressing room curtains and covering your body with the remaining curtain, “Whaddya think of this top?” You step out of the dressing room as Karasu’s eyes fall on you. They widen slightly for a moment before relaxing. He caught himself just in case.

“I– It– It doesn’t look bad on you.” Karasu spits out.

You roll your eyes, “Just ‘not bad’?”

“Fine– fine– It looks cute.” The purple haired man admits.

You feel a sense of deja vu, “Should I get it?”

“Yeah. It looks nice. And ya clearly seem to like it.”

“Alrightly then!” You grin, closing the curtain and going back inside to the fitting room. You come out a few minutes later with the top in your hands and your uniform shirt back on. The two of you then proceed to go to the checkout, where the lady rings you up.

“Okay then! Please pay when ready!” She gives a customer service smile.

As you’re taking out your cash, Karasu already paid for the top.

“Have a great day!” Karasu repeats the lady’s words back at her as he grabs the bag the top is in 

and moves, giving space for the next customer to pay.

You follow him out of the line, barely registering what just happened. 

“Karasu! Ya didn’t have to pay! I got my own money” You protest.

He hands you the bag,  “Well, I wanted to do somethin’ nice for ya. God forbid I treat you every once in a while.”

“Still! Ya don’t gotta treat me in the first place.” You refute. 

“Shhhh…” He puts a finger on your lips to silence you, “Just let me do this for once. I invited you out.” 

“You’re not gettin- my point–” You roll your eyes.

“Let’s just leave the store. No point in arguing about what’s already done.”

“I– okay. Thank you, Karasu.” You say, gratefully. Where is he even going with this?

“No problem. Where to next?” He asks you.

“I’ve pretty much hit all the stores I wanted to go to,” that was a lie; but you didn’t want to keep Karasu here the entire evening and bore him out, “Anywhere you wanna go?”

“Uh– not really.” He shrugs.

You nod, glancing at your surroundings. Something catches your attention from the corner of your eye. It’s a poster for that movie you’ve been wanting to see. It seems that everywhere and everyone online has been talking about this movie; from the production to plot to the characters.

“Oh my gosh! Didn’t know they were showin’ this here! Wanna watch it with me, Karasu?” You turn your head and look at him as he approaches your side. 

Karasu freezes up, “Watch… a movie with ya?” His heart can’t take it anymore. Watching a movie… with you?

“Of course. We got time, right?” You check the time on your phone.

Karasu smiles nervously. Shit– he didn’t prepare for this scenario at all, “Sure.”

“Do you wanna go watch it with me? Ya sure ‘bout it, Karasu?” You ask. You’re not sure what his taste in movies is and want to account for that. It’s felt like this whole hangout has revolved around you and you want to make sure Karasu is having fun too.

“No! No! Of course I do.” He brushes off your concern, “Let’s go in.” He walks past you, making you rush to his side.

The two of you make your way to the counter to purchase tickets for the next showing (which is conveniently in ten minutes) as well as a bucket of popcorn to share. A movie is never complete without popcorn, after all! As you and the purple haired man make your way to the theatre the movie is showing, you pop a piece of the popcorn in your mouth.

“Hey! [Name]! Don’t eat too many yet or we won’t have any for the movie, ya hear?” He lightly scolds you.

You chew on the piece quickly, “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

The two of you both settle in the dark theatre. You both chose seats towards the back; so there weren't any people behind you guys. This particular showing wasn’t too crowded… just a couple here and there as well as some families. As soon as the ads were done showing, you were ready. The movie started and it caught your interest from the very beginning. Seems like social media isn’t full of shit sometimes. They were right; there was clearly attention and detail put into the plot and its characters. You found the character’s struggles to be realistic and relatable; not some out of touch bullshit. That was something you really liked.

However, there was another thing on your mind. From the moment you guys have started this hangout, you’ve noticed that Karasu was extra attentive to you and the things that you liked (such as paying for your top). It felt like he was trying to make you feel special. And the odd part was that you… you didn’t mind it so much. Rather; you liked it. His personality and witty comebacks and just being there made going to the mall that much more fun. And now the two of you are at the movies sitting next to each other? A classic setup that you planned straight from the beginning. If you’re right… if you predicted correctly…

And then you felt it. Karasu was shifting closer to you, looking very nervous. His eyes were darting to you and back to the screen (which was now showing a particularly romantic scene) and his face displayed a flush of red. Just what you were looking for. You smiled in satisfaction. Guess it worked. 

You turn your head and whisper, “Yer starin’. What’cha need?”

“...Nothin’.” Karasu replies a little too fast. 

“Oh? Do you get flustered by romantic scenes?” You tease him. You’re not entirely sure what’s happening with you right now, but if it works, it works. This was unusually forward for you. 

Karasu looks back at the screen, “No.”

“Okay then.” You shift a little closer to Karasu. Shit– you’re really close to each other now. You’re almost brushing against him! Okay– maybe you went too far this time. It’s not even guaranteed he’ll make a move. You’ve just been pushing him in a certain direction. If he wanted to, he would. Better to back off now than be humiliated– Or that’s what you think, until Karasu’s arm is hovering over your shoulders. You can feel the warmth of his arm and the nervousness radiating off of him. To be fair, you’re not any better yourself; face warm and visibly shocked. What types of lines are we crossing today?!

“Can I?” Karasu finally speaks up, breaking the silence. The movie seems to go silent when he says this. All of your attention is focused on the guy next to you. You can’t seem to speak.

“I’ll uh– I’ll back off if that’s a no–” Karasu is about to retract his arm. Shit; did he just ruin the atmosphere?

However, you don’t let that happen. You can’t let this opportunity go to waste! Grabbing his arm, you wrap it around your shoulders and lean on Karasu’s body. This much physical touch (especially in public) was something you would probably never live down. But at this moment– with Karasu’s body next to yours, you weren’t inclined to care much. Plus, it’s a dark theatre. Nobody’s gonna see, you reassure yourself. 

“I never said anything about a no,” You say, under your breath.

“Well yer face told me otherwise,” Karasu refutes.

You argue back, trying to cover up how flustered you currently are, “Wow– for someone whose entire personality revolves around reading people like a book, ya clearly couldn’t tell that my expression was that of shock. Not disapproval.”

Karasu shrugs, giving up on this fight, “Well I didn’t want to touch ya without consent, y’know? Better safe than sorry. It’s a bit dark too.”

“Hm. I suppose I can accept that answer.” You try to get even closer to Karasu than you already are. This was nice… too nice in fact. You turn your focus back to the movie. The romantic scene that was previously playing had already ended. You couldn’t believe this was happening! You and Karasu sitting close to each other like a couple was something straight out of a dream. Not that you minded much. Knowing him, you just hoped that he wouldn’t tease you about this afterwards. 

To your dismay, the movie ends about forty-five minutes later. Though, your feeling wasn’t about the movie but rather about the guy next to you. The credits are rolling now and you couldn’t help but feel something gnawing at the pits of your stomach. You had previously thought that being close to Karasu as rivals was good enough. Now that you’ve had a taste of it, rivals wasn’t nearly enough. You were longing for more; for this ‘hangout’ to not end. In a scenario where a god suddenly came down from the heavens and offered to grant you a wish, you wouldn’t hesitate to wish to stay with Karasu. The time finally comes and soon, the lights turn on and burn your eyes; a reminder that nothing good lasts forever. 

You look at Karasu’s face; now illuminated by the theatre lights. His purple hair styled with that fuckass hairwax, his dazzling blue eyes, and the mole on his cheek. All of those features make him… him. You’re shortly snapped out of your trance as he makes eye contact.

“Starin’ huh?” He smiles, using your words against you.

You guys don't move an inch, despite the other people leaving the theatre, “You were staring earlier.”

“Deflecting. Classic.”

“I’m sure you’d know,” you retaliate. 

“Tch.” Karasu rolls his eyes, knowing you’re right, “Lets… lets get up.”

The expression on his face mirrors yours; one of slight disappointment trying to hide behind a neutral facade. You slide away from him as Karasu puts his hands on his thighs and stands up. You do the same, grabbing the now empty popcorn bucket and heading down the many steps on the way to the exit.

“So. What did you think about the movie?” You ask him. “I wasn’t sure if movies like that were your type, so I’m curious.”

“Huh? It was pretty good,” He’s lying straight through his teeth. The purple haired man was too nervous the whole time to even focus on the movie and its plot.

“So…” You guys walk out of the theatre and into the main cinema area. “Where to now?”

Karasu eyes you curiously, “Do ya have to be home by a certain time?”

“No. Why?” You ask.

“Wanna go get food? I uh– I know a good ramen joint nearby.” Karasu shoots his shot.

“Hm? Sure. But it’s on me.” You get that last bit out before it’s too late. 

Karasu stops walking for a second and looks you dead in the eye, “No.”

“What the hell do you mean no?!” You say, raising your eyebrows curiously. 

“No.” He says, firmly. Karasu mumbles the next part, “Can’t let a girl pay.”

“You’ve already done enough. Just ‘cause I’m a girl doesn’t mean I can’t pay.” You protest.

“Can’t do that. Sorry.”

You roll your eyes, “Stubborn fuck.”

“What’d you just call me?!” Karasu turns, facing you.

“You heard it. Now come on– where's this joint anyway?” 

“It’s just a few blocks down,” he replies.

You nod in acknowledgement, “Lead the way.”

You both walk side by side in the Osaka night sky. People walk past you engrossed in their own conversations and on their way to wherever they’re going. Meanwhile, you and Karasu have fallen into a comfortable silence. Without the pressure of school and grades, you guys are just two highschoolers who happen to be hanging out right now. After around five minutes, you arrive at the ramen joint. It’s a pretty decent place; warm lighting and a strong aroma. You buy and pay for the ramen– much to Karasu’s dismay (‘I can’t let ya pay!’ vs ‘You bought us popcorn at the movies!’). 

You finally get to take a seat at the counter, “So…”

“So?” Karasu says.

“I uh… why’ve ya been so nice to me today?” You ask.

Karasu’s been found out (was there anything to hide in the first place?), “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean like. You payin’ for all my stuff and going to that movie when I didn’t even know if you'd like it,” you point out. 

For someone as sharp tongued as Karasu, he had trouble figuring out what to say to this, “I just– I just wanted to be nice. Miyuki’s been tellin’ me I should work on that.” Yeah. Be nice to the girl that you like.

“She’s not wrong.” You tease him. It’s a familiar response. Safe even. Predictable. Unlike the warm feeling in your chest every time you look at him.

Karasu scoffs, “Says you.”

“I’m nice! And kind!” You defend yourself.

He mocks you, “Sure… whatever ya say, [Name].”

“I’m gonna shove–” Before you can finish your sentence, your ramen bowls conveniently arrive.

You don’t continue and instead opt to focus on the food in front of you. The last thing you had in your stomach was movie theatre popcorn so you’re certainly ready to eat. 

“What was that?” Karasu says, trying to egg you on. You swear this guy is confusing as hell sometimes. He’ll act all nice and sweet, putting an arm around you at the movie theatre and the next moment he’s bickering with you. Pick a side, goddamnit!

“I’m choosing to be nice by ending our previous topic of conversation. Let’s eat.” You won’t let him have the last word.

Sighing, he picks up his chopsticks and slurps up some of his noodles. You do the same. Shit– Karasu was right. This joint is so good! The broth had the perfect flavor, the noodles were cooked to perfection, and the toppings tasted very high quality. And it’s affordable! Yeah, you’re going back here again. Maybe even with him?

Your eyes dart to Karasu’s bowl. He has a bowl of miso ramen, while you have a bowl of shoyu ramen. Man you absolutely loveeeee miso ramen. Guess Karasu noticed your wandering eyes directed to his bowl of noodles. Were you really that obvious?

“Do you like miso too, [Name]?” He questions.

“...yeah.” You say sheepishly, knowing that he probably noticed your gaze that was fixated on that ramen of his. .

Without hesitating, Karasu swaps your guys’ ramen bowls, leaving you with his miso broth and him with your shoyu ramen, “Just don’t eat too much of it,” He claims. This was such a risky move on his part. What if you were just blanked out? What if he made you uncomfortable? Suddenly, his forehead was drenched in sweat and his clothes felt too tight on his skin. 

That is, until you smiled up at him, grateful for the gesture, “Thanks, Karasu!”

He sighs in relief, “No problem. Enjoy.”

You hesitate a bit before grabbing your spoon and drinking some of the broth. After all, you guys shared a drink once. Who cares now?, “Damn! This place has some good miso.”

“Right?” Karasu chuckles in response. He then takes a sip of your broth. The soy sauce flavor instantly hits his taste buds, “Damn– this is good too,” he remarks. 

“Everything here’s good.” You laugh. Then you have the amazing idea to shoot your shot. Playfully flirt a little. A flirty comment here or there doesn’t hurt, right? Hell– he had his arm around you earlier, “We should totally come back here together.”

Your hearts are in sync with one another’s. At that statement, both of your hearts begin to race. Shit shit shit!!! What’ll he even say to that? You’re gonna kill him if he makes fun of you.

“Yeah. Lets.” Karasu says, a bit off handedly in an attempt to play off his excitement. Going back here with you would be a dream.

The two of you fall back into silence. The sound of people talking around you, chefs yelling at each other about orders, and ramen being cooked fills up the space around you. You swap ramen bowls occasionally without words (because the two of you don’t need that many. Or at least, when it comes to things like this).

The time has come to walk you home once again. Bellies filled, Karasu walks side by side next to you on the way back to your house. It’s routine, so it’s certainly not unusual. Both of you make your way around your familiar neighborhood until you find your house. You stand outside the gate for a second, facing Karasu.

“I,” you take a quick breath, “thanks for taking me out on a d– I mean hangout.” You catch your mistake before he can. 

Judging by the smirk on Karasu’s face, he definitely noticed your slip up. He doesn’t point it out though, “No problem. I’ll take ya out more. On me.”

You’re left there by the front gate of your house, speechless as he walks away. Meanwhile, Karasu’s mind was racing with questions. Was that too smug? Shit– does she think I’m some cocky bastard now? Is that a red flag? Was that too bold?! Questions race in his mind as he walks away. Meanwhile, you snap out of it and go inside. Clutching your shopping bags, you bolt to your room immediately. That trip was the most fun you’ve had in a while. If you told yourself at the beginning of the school year that you hung out with Karasu Tabito– resident jackass and had fun? You would’ve told the present you that you were in fact crazy. It still felt unreal though. 

Rating: 9.5/10

STEP SIX:

The next morning over breakfast, Karasu is debriefing with Miyuki about everything that happened. The older Karasu is practically gushing over everything that happened between the two of them. Karasu takes a bite of his toast as Miyuki gives him more advice. He’s practically soaking up all this information like a sponge. 

“Anyways, I think we’re ready to initiate the final phase.” Miyuki proudly declares.

Karasu is intrigued, “This being?”

“Asking her to be your girlfriend, duh!” she exclaims. “If you think you guys are ready, of course,” she adds on.

“Yes. I think… I think we’re ready for the final phase.” Karasu confirms.

“Good! Time to initiate ‘How to woo a girl 101; the final phase’! Gosh– they grow up so fast…” the college aged girl responds, wiping a fake tear from her eyes. 

“Jeez. Dramatic much? Just tell me what to do.”

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

Quite some time has passed since that first trip to the mall together. You and Karasu hanging out has become a somewhat regular occurrence. On the occasions that time could be spared, the two of you would go out. Whether it be the mall, karaoke, or the park, it was fun as long as Karasu was there. Of course, both of you still studied together, but things have escalated. And dare you say, it was fun. Being around him was fun. The bickering and the insults that slowly got more playful by the day, the slight touches, the sharing food, all of it was fun. For once in your life, you could have fun. And that’s what you loved about Karasu. Being around him was easy. No projecting a perfect image, no words being held back, just you and him exchanging words like it was a lifeline. 

So when Karasu invites you to a new cafe to ‘study’? That didn’t ring as suspicious to you. If anything, it was normal. Plus, he knew you’d been eyeing that new cafe and their drinks. So why not make it memorable? He makes sure to arrive there 30 minutes early to gather his thoughts and feelings. He also makes sure to get a slice of cake for you (your favorite obviously). He’s saved you a seat across from him. And on it? A bouquet of flowers (that his sister helped him pick out the day before). He’s so ready and so not ready at the same time. His stomach is practically eating itself from the inside because of his damn nerves. Honestly, he just needs to man up and ask you to be his girlfriend already.

Unfortunately, his stomach drops even more when he sees you enter the cafe. Not from anger or fear, but from nervousness. There’s no backing out now. Before you spot him, he grabs the bouquet of flowers from your chair and holds it in his hands. 

“[Name]! Over here!” He says, waving you over.

Your heart stops at the sight of the flowers. Were those for… you? Or did someone give them to him? Is he gonna– no, there’s no way he’s gonna ask that today. Or is he? You’re grateful you spent extra time on your hair and makeup before coming. In the scenario that he’s asking you to be his girlfriend today, you would have to be ready for some pictures. And you could not be looking chopped. These thoughts race through your mind as you take the seat across from him. The one he saved you himself. Your favorite flavor of cake is already resting in front of you.

“Hi, Karasu.” You greet him.

Karasu gulps nervously as he hands you the bouquet from across the table, “These are uh– these are for you.”

Your fingers brush against his as you receive the flowers, “T-thank you,” You stutter. Ugh! That just makes you sound pathetic. You can’t sound pathetic– especially now. You’re not even the one giving yourself flowers, but you’re still nervous as hell. “These are really pretty.” 

“Glad you like ‘em.” Karasu smiles and sighs in relief.

Your eyes flutter to the cake in front of you for a quick moment, “Of course I like them.”

“I got it for you,” he gestures to the cake sitting in front of you, “Yer favorite.” 

“Really?!” Karasu loves the way your eyes lighten up whenever he does something nice for you. 

You’re beaming, “Yes, really.”

You excitedly pick up your fork and put the piece of cake in your mouth. The flavors dance on your tongue while the fluffy texture of the sponge melts in your mouth, creating the perfect bite. You’re not sure if anything in the world could top this cake. While you continue eating, a joyful expression paints your face. Before long, Karasu catches himself staring at your expression. Someone like him putting a smile on someone as beautiful and amazing as you? It was unheard of. 

“Do ya want some cake, Karasu?” You slide the cake toward him with your fork.

He hesitates for a second, "Uhm I'm good.” He slides the cake back to you, “Just continue eating it. You seem to enjoy it.”

“...Thanks.” You pause, “If ya don’t mind me asking, what’re these flowers for. Kinda out of the blue, if ya ask me.”

Karasu freezes up, his heart racing. He was originally planning to wait until a bit later to ask the question, but if you’re asking now then… There’s no chickening out– no turning back. This is the thing he’s been waiting for ever since you two met all those years ago. Ever since he laid eyes on your face that day, this was the only thing racing in his mind. 

“Actually, that’s kinda why I asked you to come here a bit outta the blue.” He looks into your eyes, “ever since we met– even though we were doin’ that rivals thing, ya always stood out to me. I don’t find many things extraordinary, but yer the exception. I know I may not have shown it at the beginnin’, but you’ve honestly become someone I wanna be around all the time. Guess it’s pretty obvious what I’m gonna ask now. But will you do me the honor of being yer boyfriend?” He let out a relieved sigh. 

During Karasu’s whole spiel, you were focused on him and his words. Your eyes never left his; not even for a moment. Honestly, you were impressed by how sincere he sounded. Karasu Tabito, in your eyes, was always that one asshole who would rub his grades in your face. So now? Hearing him say all that with such conviction– such sincerity warmed your heart. Suddenly, you were hyperaware of everything around you. The cool AC in the cafe, the hair on your forehead, and most of all– the feeling in your chest. 

Realizing you blanked out, you return to the conversation at hand, “Sorry! I was just processing your words.” You admit sheepishly. 

“It’s fine–” Okay, now he’s worried. Were you silent because you were trying to figure out a way to reject him? Or–

His overthinking was interrupted by your sweet voice, “I’m glad you feel the same way, Karasu. I… I’ll admit I didn’t really like ya at first. I thought you were some cocky asshole who effortlessly got good grades and played soccer. But after gettin’ to know you a bit more, my thoughts were disproven. You’ve shown yourself to be a good person when we spend time together. So… I’d really like it if you’d be my boyfriend.” You’re sure that you have some awkward silly expression on your face but you truthfully couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

Karasu is smiling really wide right now. He looks less like a teenage boy and more like a little kid who just discovered something revolutionary. Not that you mind; it’s a cute look on hi, “Really?”

“Really. I’ll let you have that honor. But if you think that I’m gonna start easing up on you at school, yer wrong. I’m afraid that isn’t a boyfriend privilege.” You proudly proclaim. 

Karasu rolls his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. So what is a boyfriend privilege I may have?”

“You can hold my hand, I guess.” Karasu wastes no time in grabbing your hand from across the table. You let out a giggle at his enthusiasm.

Your boyfriend looks completely serious about all of this, “I like that.”

“Oh. And are we being… public about this?” You ask, genuinely curious. You weren’t sure if Karasu was the more private type in relationships, so you want to clarify. They do say communication is key in relationships and it wouldn’t be harmful to start practicing early. 

“Hm? Honestly, I don’t mind. But those idiots in our class might blow things outta proportion. Are they still betting on who gets the higher score during tests?” Karasu asks.

You sigh, remembering your classmates’ antics, “They are. Honestly, I think it’d be best to keep it a bit private… for now at least. I’m pretty sure they think we still hate each other.”

“True that.” Karasu agrees. 

“So for the time being let's keep this a bit private… not necessarily hiding it– if you get my drift. But not like… outward, y’know?”

He nods in response, “I get what yer sayin’ and I agree.”

“Alright. By the way, how long’ve you liked me, Karasu? Just curious.”

“Tabito. It’s Tabito now.” The purple haired man is staring at you so hard. 

You scoff, “Don’t change the subject, Tabito.”

“...” he decides to be truthful with you, “Like… pretty much since I met ya.”

Your eyes widen. Damn! That long?! “Really?!”

Tabito doesn’t bat an eye, “Yeah. What about it?”

“But– I was kinda a jerk to ya back in the day.”

“You’re sayin’ back in the day like it wasn’t long ago that you were snarky with me.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, “Okay. Fine, fine.”

“So when’d ya start likin’ me?” Tabito asks, curious about your perspective.

“Prolly around the time we started studyin’ together. That was fun.” You answer, truthfully.

“Interestin’... My tactic worked then.” He mumbles that last part quietly.

You raise an eyebrow, “What was that?”

“Nothin!”

You brush that off. The rest of the conversation flows nicely; the two of you throwing your signature banter back and forth and occasionally eating some cake. You two even order some lattes, which is nice. While the date is simple, it’s nice. It’s just the two of you, spending time away from the world in a quiet cafe. Tabito knows you don’t like overly flashy things. If anything, it’s a testament to how much he pays attention to you. You’re grateful for that (and him). Eventually you guys make your way out of the cafe after what feels like hours and head to the park (hand in hand). It’s nice just being in Tabito’s presence. Just being around him feels so… right. Before this, you didn’t think anything in your life was missing. School, friends, family, and studying were the norm to you. Now however? Something that didn’t exist in your heart came to be; in a good way, of course. 

While you’re sitting on the benches, you ask Tabito to take a picture with you (for a potential soft launch on your private twitter with three– now four people).

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

The sun was now setting; which unfortunately meant the end of the date. Tabito being Tabito walks you home as always. Now entering his front door, he’s practically ambushed by his nosy ass older sister. She needs to go back to college already!!!

“Tabito-chan! Yer back late. So what happened?” Her eyes dart to his hands. No bouquet. “Did she like and accept the flowers? AND yer back late. Shit– just tell me!”

Tabito rolls his eyes, “Well I’d tell ya if you gave me a chance to speak.”

Miyuki only nods. She’s locked in for this. 

“Well… we went to the cafe, right? So then I gave her the flowers and she accepted them. Then she started eating the cake I bought her and asked why she was getting flowers in the first place. And like– I couldn’t really say anything except the truth, so I outright admitted I liked her and asked to be her boyfriend.” Tabito’s face gets a little warm at that last part. 

“They grow up so fast!” Miyuki says, very proud.

“And uh… she said yes,” Tabito smiles at the thought of you accepting his confession. “So uh– now we’re datin’. Then we went to the park a bit afterwards and hung out. Once it got dark out, I walked her home, obviously.”

“Good, good. Exactly like how I taught ya.” The older Karasu couldn’t be more proud right now. 

“Now that me ‘n [Name] are official, thanks Onee-san. I… I couldnt’ve done a lot of it without ya.” Tabito luckily admits.

Miyuki is beaming, “Well, I guess my job as your mentor is done. I’m proud of ya. I guess we can officially call ‘How to woo a girl 101’ done. Good job, Tabito.”

“Thanks.”

Miyuki smirks, “Now we start ‘How to be a good boyfriend 101’!” 

“What the fuck? Am I seriously not done with this bullshit?” Tabito groans as Miyuki laughs at him. 

RATING: 10/10

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A/N: hi guys!!! I'm so so happy that this fic is finally out of the drafts! I've been working on it for quite a bit, so to see it come to life is truly amazing. Anyways, now that I'm done with this, I can finally focus on my other requests. I hope that this wasn't too ooc TT'. thank you everyone for reading and supporting me ! <3 i really appreciate it!

The last time you saw him, he was small and scrawny. Now, he's absolutely huge. Muscles itching to pop out of his sleeves. However, the look in his eyes almost didn't change. That look of a dream: a dream to play, the dream of love. The only thing that was different was that, now, he was on top of the world.

Both of you, young and immature. The only thing that separated you two was your lives, but you both managed. After a while of not seeing him, you wanted to forget his name.

But how could you forget, Michael Kaiser.

You saw him five years ago, on Christmas eve. He was in the town alone in his raggedy hoodie, stopped and standing stiffly outside a local bakery. He looked at the pastries with dull eyes, his aura unapproachable yet sad.

Because you were feeling generous (given the christmas spirit), you begged your mom for a slice of the alluring strawberry jam vanilla cake.

“Here, take this,” you said, offering the small box that held the slice. “You looked like you wanted some.”

He gave you a confused look, and you saw his eyes glimmer for a moment but it immediately went away. He stood unmoving for a while, and you began to wonder if you accidentally ticked him off somehow.

Still unsure, he decided to accept your gift. His hand hesitantly reached out to grab the box. His fingers, rough and skinny, brushed against yours.

“Thank you.” He spoke, barely above a whisper, looking down at the box that was now in his hands.

You smiled, feeling accomplished.

“My name is Y/N, what's yours?”

His eyes met yours, “Michael.” He answered.

After that fateful meeting, the both of you formed an unexpected friendship. Sometimes you would see him roaming the town, or you would see him sitting at the park.

You learned about his life, and it only hit you then how drastically different you two were. You offered to call the police when he told you he was getting abused, but he refused.

“Just talking to someone is enough,” he would reason, as you both walked alongside each other down your neighborhood’s street.

He explained that he was seen as an outcast. No one interacted with him at school, not even the delinquents. Michael was different in every way.

But you didn't mind, you told him you enjoyed his company, and that he better have enjoyed yours too. He would laugh at that, but you knew he was grateful.

One day, he brought a beat up soccer ball he found with him to one of the daily afternoon meet-ups you guys had at his favorite park. After some rounds of kicking the ball into imaginary nets, you saw his potential. He was no pro, but with the right training he could be on a good team in no time. But at the time, you just assumed your athleticism was beyond terrible.

The last day you saw him, it was raining. At this point you guys have known each other for almost two years now.

You would be lying if you said you weren't falling for him a bit. But your parents' words stuck with you, and you, as a newly 16 year old, still believed that you wouldn't find your true love until you went to college. Plus, you didn't know if Michael felt the same way about you. All you knew was that you were someone he could talk to, his comfort.

“I feel like something bad is going to happen.” You told him truthfully, leaning against his shoulder as he laid his head atop yours. You both sat uncaring in the rain, staying somewhat warm with each other's body heat.

“I feel like that everyday.” He remarked, slightly nudging the side of your torso. You snickered lightly, closing your eyes and soaking (literally) in the comforting moment.

A nice, quite silence fell upon you two.

The sounds of car engines and life bustled far away from the park you both were in. The atmosphere prompted you to think about the future, a future where you and Michael would both be happy.

“Micha,” you began, slowly looking up at him. “Can we be friends forever?”

His gaze stayed focused ahead of him, avoiding eye contact with you. The silence allowed you to hear the steady beating of his heart, plump and alive, but barely living. After all he's been through, everything he did was to survive.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he turned towards you to meet your soft gaze.

“I was thinking,” he started, paused, and started again. “Maybe we could be more, in the future, of course.”

Your heart started to pound just a little more louder and a little more quicker. Heat began to roll onto your cheeks as your brain began to decipher what he meant.

You wanted to confess the feelings that were deep down in your heart, tell him you loved and appreciated him, but all you could do at the moment was mutter a small, “Okay.”

You still regretted not telling him till this day. You always thought that if you did, maybe you guys wouldn't have drifted so far apart.

You parted away from him slightly and began to undo the silver necklace that was around your neck. It was your favorite necklace at the time because it had your initials in the middle. A very simple necklace.

“Here,” you handed him the necklace. “This is for you. A promise that we'll be with each other, and you'll always have a part of me wherever you go.”

He looked down at your palm, his face unreadable. However, you could hear his breath hitch a little, as you ushered the piece of metal closer. His gaze softened as he examined the jewelry.

Considering his habits at the time, you were putting a lot of trust in him to not sell your necklace for money. But with your heart, you knew he wouldn't do that.

“I don't have anything to give you.” He admitted in a guilty tone. You shook your head to reassure him that it was fine, “Don't worry about it.” You told him.

Not listening to your protest, he investigated his pockets to see if he had anything on him. Unsurprisingly, his pockets only had some money that he stole from a tip jar at a random restaurant you two ate at for lunch earlier in the day.

“I could probably rip some of my hair out,” he suggested, and you couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Nevertheless, you laughed softly, placing the necklace in his slim hands.

“It's okay,” you said, “I trust you.”

After that day, you never saw him again. You would visit the usual spots you both would hang out everyday, waiting for him to no avail. It wasn't until three months later, you found out that he left his home to pursue his soccer career.

And a month after that, you found out that his full name was Michael Kaiser. During your friendship with him, he only knew you by Y/N and you only knew him by Michael.

You always wonder if he ever found out what your last name was too. He had it easier too.

He already had your last initial.

The wave of nostalgia hit you like crazy. Two years of your life you knew this man, and made promises that have yet to be, or will never be, fulfilled.

The camera was now off-field, where they were pulling the Bastard players “backstage” to interview them post-game. Currently, a plum haired, wide-eyed guy (who closely resembled a puppy) was being interviewed.

“Michael gave his all,” he stated. You playfully rolled your eyes as if plum-haired could see. “Obviously,” you muttered as if he could hear.

Suddenly, Michael appeared from behind the plum, towering over the reporter. You felt the urge to shut off the TV, but a part of you wanted to hear what he had say.

“Michael! What a game you played!” The reporter exclaimed, ushering the cameraman to get Michael Kaiser in all his glory.

You had to admit, after all these years, he got very attractive.

“Wouldn't expect any less from myself.” Michael stated confidently, as if he was speaking to himself, his mouth contorted into its one of his signature smiles.

The reporter obnoxiously laughed along, “Well, people are wondering this season if you have any lucky items you keep on you. Like an amulet? Your luck ever since your debut continues to keep growing. Tell us Kaiser!”

His gaze broke for a moment, the smirk on his face turning into what looked more like a line. Not a smile, just a neutral facade.

You could see that he was now deep in thought. His thinking face was still the same ever since he was sixteen to now.

“I do, actually,” he finally answered. His hands reach up towards his neck, fingers digging into the hem of his collar and he pulls out a slim, silver necklace hiding within his jersey.

You stopped breathing, for a good minute too. The reporter’s words turned into a jumbled mess as your eyes fixated on the necklace that he wore around his neck.

Your initials sat right above his collar.

“What do the letters stand for?” The reporter nudged, invading Michael’s space as he leaned in closer. Michael backed up slightly, “Someone special to me,” he answered, giving the reporter a look that hinted “back off.”

The reporter made an inaudible noise, his face lit up as if he had just won all the money in the world. “Does Michael Kaiser have a special someone?” He jumped, dramatically emphasizing every word in the sentence.

“Yes, they are special to me,” Michael bluntly stated. “But, I can't see them.”

The reporter jerked up a brow, “Oh? And why is that?” He questioned, no sense of any actual curiosity behind what he asked. It was very evident that he was already planning the next rumor inside his head. Seriously, who hires reporters like these?

“I can't visit them,” Michael admitted, his confident demeanor slightly slipping away. “I.. didn't have the heart to keep in contact. I didn't really feel the need too–”

You turned the TV off.

You could feel your eyes thanking you for getting rid of the beaming blue light that occupied you.

Your mind was spinning, what the hell? He calls you special, but he didn't find it necessary to keep in contact. That's the opposite of what all the books, blogs, and therapists say!

You weren't mad, not at all, but you were confused.

You were way too tired too.

“I’ll save it for another day,” you whispered, hands massaging your eyes as you got up to navigate to your room.

Looks like you're not getting your love back anytime soon.

.. (ﾟ´—`ﾟ)ﾟ｡