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arielhopepeace · 1 year

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This is a Javier Peña and Harry Styles (again lol) short story for all my fellow Pedro Pascal lovers 💕 This one isn’t gonna be as sweet as the Joel one. Y/N’s life kinda sucks lmfao. I will be posting the trigger warnings since some of the content is sensitive! This was a story suggestion by my best friend who doesn’t have a tumblr otherwise I’d tag her lol. BUT I will be coming out with another Joel story after this one so, feel free to follow me if you’d like to read that when it comes out!

As always, enjoy ❤️

Part two is here

Part three is here

Final part is here

Part One

18+ only

Tw: prostitution, abusive father, mention of drugs, mention of death, extreme violence, guns, murder, abuse in general, mention of sexual assault, implied smut (there’s gonna be a lot of this, she’s a prostitute 😬)

I’d also like to quickly say that I’ll never ever write sexual assault into my stories. It’s just a topic that is too sensitive for me, and for many others out there. There are mentions of it because men are sick and twisted in this world, but I will never describe it happening, or have it happen to y/n. Just a heads up on that ❤️ Anyway, onto the story to escape reality…

4,200 words

There's nothing that I love more than the scenery of Columbia; the beaches, mountains, forests. For the last few months that I've lived here with my father, I've always felt melancholy about the fact that I wasn't born in this beautiful country.

The move was a necessary change in order for my dad to be more successful with his business ventures. I despise the man, but he's filthy rich due to running with the narcos of Medellin. Of course he's never given me anything from his wealth, and instead has pawned me off to be a prostitute for extra income.

I tried my best to fight him on it, but to no avail. You can't argue with a powerful, dangerous man like him. All it does is get me badly beaten. He doesn't like to hit me often since it's bad for business, as he likes to say. Men don't generally like to sleep with women who are all battered and bruised. They think I'll carry some sort of emotional baggage and try to cling to them for security.

Truthfully, I'm very numb to all of it; the beatings, the sex, the disgusting clients, everything. There's no point in me feeling bad for myself. After all, I'm still the daughter of an important drug dealer who works for the drug dealer of Colombia, Pablo Escobar. Nobody would dare to hurt me, since it could possibly end up with them "disappearing". I don't think my father would ever kill someone for my sake, though. But I know he has for his.

It's been a difficult transition since I know hardly any Spanish, and that is the only language anyone speaks here. There's been countless encounters where I've been left feeling imbecilic and witless. My father never bothered to teach me the language, but hired his own personal tutor in order to better conduct business. This way, nobody will be able to talk about anything right in front of his face without him being able to understand. He never wants to be made a fool of.

The house my father lives in is incredibly opulent and pristine. It's just outside of Medellin, sitting on an emerald hill overlooking a vast crystal blue lake that shines brilliantly in the sun. Anytime I'm there for a visit, it makes me wish I lived in that damned mansion. Instead, I have to live in a shitty apartment in the more run-down side of town.

My place is close to one of the whorehouses where I like to sometimes find clients. Usually, I'll dress nicely with a provocative touch and head to a bar, fishing for men whose eyes linger on my breasts. The proposition I set is only said with my body, and once the man understands that I can't speak Spanish, not much else needs to be said, anyway. I'll say my price before we leave, choosing a number I'm comfortable with charging and pronouncing.

I have yet to find someone who refuses to pay, or is unnecessarily rough. It's a relief, because that was one of my biggest concerns going into this. My dad doesn't think that my job has any danger, but he also couldn't give two shits about me, it seems.

There's a slight sense of giddy elation that courses through me, knowing that I'm able to take the day to myself. All I want to do is go to the clinic to do my weekly health check, and then to my father's lakeside house to bask in the sun while he's away for a while today.

He always has to be made aware of my company, just in case he were conducting business and I startled one of his ruthless peers. They all know what I look like, and a few have even solicited sex from me before, but I'd rather be cautious about it than get shot for showing up unannounced.

Once the clinic gives me yet another clean bill of health, I go on my way to my dad's mansion. The warm air whips my hair around the car from the open windows, allowing me to breathe in the crisp feeling of summer. It trails goosebumps of satisfaction along my skin, a smile splitting my face as I giggle lightly to myself.

There aren't many moments when I'm truly happy, but being alone on the drive to my dad's is definitely one of them.

To my dismay, my father is home, his smooth, lavish car parked at the top of his gated cobblestone driveway. He was supposed to be out all day, but I'm sure he'll explain why he's here so early.

I step out of my run-down sedan, closing the creaking, rusted door shut with a slight slam. My breathing is a bit more shaky as I approach the front door, not really wanting to face my dad today. He knew I was coming, though, so he shouldn't be mad, right?

The living room is relatively quiet as I enter, being greeted by one of the maids in the foyer.

"Dad?" I call out, hoping he doesn't answer me.

His raised voice echoes through the halls, my high heels taking me clicking down the marbled pathway, the walls are so tall it feels like they could swallow me whole at any moment. There's some profane Spanish coming from my dad's office, and I inwardly kick myself as I push the ajar door to it open slowly, not knowing if he's going to scream at me for this.

He has his front turned towards the countless amount of books that he never touches, an obvious strain in his irate tone. The large, gray mobile phone is pressed to his ear, the antennae shining silver above his head by several inches.

My eyes widen as he turns to me, my body immediately cowering in fear as he takes in my presence. He ends the call, gripping the phone so tightly in his fist, I'm worried he'll crack it.

"Hey, y/n," he says quickly. "What have I said about being in here when I'm on calls?"

"I'm sorry," I stammer. "I just wanted you to know that I was here. I'm sorry," I apologize again. All I ever do is apologize to this man when really I want to punch him.

He holds up a large, murderous hand, shaking it side to side. "It's fine," he snaps. "You do what you have to, I don't care. Just leave me be. Got it?"

Without his eyes meeting mine for even a second, I nod, scurrying down the halls as fast as I can without breaking an ankle in my heels. I'm once again greeted by the warmth of the air and sun, surprisingly able to breathe better out here than I was inside.

"You're here," a British voice says beside me.

My head turns to see the charming, dashing Harry, my father's right hand man. "Oh, hi, Harry." I spot the gun sticking out of his belt, making me swallow hard.

He stuffs his ring-clad fingers into his powder blue suit pockets, a small smile settled onto his pink lips. "What are you doing here today?"

I point to the lake over the hill. "Gonna sun tan for a while. Need to not look so—gringa."

Harry chuckles lightly. "I think your skin is perfect as it is."

His words make my cheeks feel hot, and I turn my face away briefly. "Thank you."

"How's business? Anybody need correcting, darling?" he asks with a hint on concern.

I've only known Harry for about a month, and he's been nothing but lovely since I met him. He's always had a bit of protectiveness towards me and I'm not sure why. We've done nothing but have conversations with each other, and he worships my father, a man who seemingly can't stand me. Maybe he feels like he needs to protect me just because he's obsessed with my dad. That reminder always turns me off to him, even if his dreamy looks and refreshing accent do the exact opposite.

"No," I shake my head. "Not everybody knows who I am, but those that do are very—respectful."

"If there's ever a time when somebody isn't," he lifts his suit jacket to flash the grip of his pistol, "you'll tell me, yeah?"

"Yes," I nod. "Thank you."

Harry tosses me a dimply grin, his teeth neat and white. "No need to thank me, y/n. You should always be respected."

I go to tell him that I'm respected by everyone except for my father, but I refrain. Do I think Harry would ever hurt me? Probably not. But that one percent of uncertainty is enough for me to keep my mouth shut.

When I'm settled near the lake, I strip off my dress, kicking my heels to the side shortly after. Being laid out in only my matching black bra and thong with the sun licking my skin is more euphoric than any sex I've had in Colombia.

The men haven't really interested me in the slightest. Of course there's been the few attractive ones who have approached me, but even if it feels good, it's not often that I'm pushed past that delicious precipice. I've yet to have a client who cared about my pleasure, but they're not paying for mine. They're paying for theirs and theirs alone.

My eyes are closed as I relax my shoulders into the grass, allowing my body to be consumed by the intense rays. Being here with nothing but the sound of nature puts me so much at ease that I sometimes fall asleep. The birds that sing their songs proudly above are all giving me unique, individual lullabies, and I love every single one.

The distant sound of shouting makes me sit up, looking up towards the house for any indication on what could be happening. I abandon my dress and heels, my pulse immediately rising from the anticipation of what is unfolding at the top of the hill.

My body freezes as I see several men on their knees in front of my father with Harry standing beside him. He has his pistol tucked underneath both of his hands that are crossed over his front. My dad has his large pistol pointed at one of the men's heads.

Even if I spoke Spanish, there's no way I'd be able to tell what they're saying. They're too far away. I do my best to stay out of sight as I move in closer, creeping behind a shrub that lines the pool, giving it a green privacy gate.

I jump involuntarily at the sound of a single bullet being emptied from the chamber, one of the men falling back into a puddle of his own blood and brain matter.

My sweaty palm flings to my mouth, tears unable to escape from the shock I feel in my body. Of course I know that my father kills people, but I've never actually seen him do it.

He presses the barrel to the next man's forehead who is speaking with a trembling voice to my cold-faced dad. It's eerie how he has no empathy or emotion, only wrath and strategy. I've been convinced that he's a psychopath since I was a kid, but now I truly believe it.

There were nights before my mom died that they'd argue, and he'd slap her around like he does to me. It always made me furious, but what the hell is a kid supposed to do in that situation? The only thing I could do was imagine I was somewhere else that was far away, like a tropical island.

But here I reside in a tropical land, not at all living the way I'd imagine when I was a child. This is hell simply being disguised by pretty packaging and a sparkly bow.

The next man falls back after a shot, the third one not even being interrogated before my father shoots him dead, tucking his gun into the back waistband of his pants. A few men begin to get to work moving the bodies as my dad walks away, Harry looking down at them.

He shifts as if he's thinking, his own gun being wedged between his hip and his pants. I fall to my bare knees onto the soft blades of grass, curling up behind the bush as I hold myself tightly, still not having shed a single tear. Why can't I cry for the dead? Am I as psychotic as my father?

As I stand to walk away back towards my things at the bottom of the hill, a voice stops me in my tracks, my body freezing in place as if Medusa herself has turned me to stone.

"Y/n?" Harry comes into my view. "What are you doing up here?"

Panic. The only thing I can do right now is panic.

"Please don't hurt me," my voice wavers. "I'm sorry."

His green eyes soften, his hands stretching out towards me. His palms graze my arms, my eyes squeezing shut from fear. "Hey, I'd never hurt you. Look at me," he says gently.

Reluctantly, my eyes flip up to his, meeting his delicate gaze. "I heard yelling so I came up here. I didn't mean to see anything."

"Shh," he coos calmly. "Let me walk you back down to the lake."

With reluctant, frozen feet, I begin to tread down the hill with Harry's hand gingerly gripping the crease of my arm. I'm not sure why I feel so terrified of him right now. He's obviously killed people before, too, but I'm just the most concerned about him killing me. What if he tells my father that I was snooping? I don't know what he'd do to me.

My dress and heels lay lifeless beside the lake, my eyes fixed on them instead of the tall man beside me.

"Please don't tell my dad," I plead quietly. "I don't know what he'd do to me, Harry."

Harry tilts my chin up, giving me a comforting smile. "I never saw you, darling."

"Who were they?" I ask softly.

"Rats," he answers firmly with a furrowed brow. "They were giving information to the DEA that just got into the country. You know it's serious if America is getting involved."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "Will you be caught?"

"Not if we're smart."

"Okay." My arms wrap around my midsection. "Thank you for your discretion."

Harry chuckles, nodding. "I'll always protect you."

My brows furrow. "Even against my father?"

He stands gazing at me for a moment before letting out a small sigh. "It depends on the circumstances."

Fuck, that's disappointing.

"Right," I nod, picking up my dress. "I think I'm gonna head out. I've had enough of the cartel for today."

Harry grazes my face with the side of his finger, the cool metal of his ring electrifying me. "Please know that I want to protect you from everybody, including your dad. It's just in certain situations, my hands would be tied."

"Like if I was a rat?"

He nods. "Exactly. I'd lose my head too if I protected you."

"I'd never do that, though. I know better."

Harry leans in and presses a delicate peck to my cheek. "I know, darling. You're too lovely."

"Why are you so nice to me?"

He beams, stroking my hair and tucking it behind my ear. "I like you, y/n. You're fucking beautiful and incredibly bright. I love any time that we talk."

Butterflies settle into the pit of my stomach, making my face turn hot. "And you don't care that I'm a prostitute?"

Harry shakes his head. "You didn't ask to be one in the first place."

I sigh as I sit down beside the lake, looking at the glimmering water. "I begged not to be, but he just—"

Harry rests beside me, tossing his arm around my shoulders. "I know. I'm sorry I can't protect you in those moments, either."

"I'm used to not having protection, Harry. It's fine."

He sighs, gently easing my head to rest on his shoulder as we both gaze at the water. My body relaxes in his embrace, my face turning to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. Harry lifts my head up by my chin, quickly and suddenly capturing my lips against his, making me gasp in my throat.

It's not at all that I'm opposed to this, but rather it was extremely unexpected.

"What are you doing?" I ask, his hands on my waist.

He pulls away, his eyes having darkened. "Do you want me to stop?"

With a small smirk I shake my head, pushing my head forward for more of his delectable lips.

We lay on the field naked and breathless, my legs shaky and weak from my orgasm, and my body glistening with sweat just like Harry's. I had no idea that today would turn out like this, but I can't say that I'm disappointed.

I gaze up at him from his tattooed chest, his golden cross necklace buried in his sprinkling of chest hair. He peers down at me, smiling as he pulls me up for another sweet kiss.

"I have to go," he says softly. "He'll be wondering where I went."

"Okay," I answer quietly, sitting up.

Harry slides on his briefs and pants, handing me my things with a gentle grin. "Let me walk you to your car."

Once we're both fully dressed, we make our way up the hill, Harry's hand in mine the whole way. He's being rather romantic about it which is not at all something I'm used to. And he actually made me have an orgasm, another thing that isn't ever achieved for me.

He pulls me in for a swift kiss, his hand at the small of my back as I giggle, my fingers twisting into his soft brown curls.

"Oh," he says quickly as if remembering something. Harry pulls out his wallet and hands me a thousand dollars all splayed out, a bashful smile on his face. "I don't want to take advantage of you, y/n. Please take it."

"That's way too much, Harry. And also, clients don't ever make me orgasm."

He chuckles, pulling me in for another kiss. "Consider me the best client, then."

Reluctantly, I take the money, shaking my head. "This is the most I've ever been paid for one session."

"God, I'd give you more if you wouldn't make fun of me."

I laugh, shaking my head. "You're sweet. You didn't have to pay me."

He pulls my hand up to his lips, kissing my knuckles. "I wanted to."

With one last glance to the handsome British man, I get into my car, Harry giving me a small wave as I drive away, his figure disappearing in my rear view mirror.

The encounter with him has left me feeling giddy and excited. Not only was he thoughtful towards me, but also just thoroughly romantic the entire time. I wasn't expecting Harry to ever become a client, but god, I'll look forward to the next time that I see him.

Later on, I decide to head to a bar near my house, just wanting to get a couple of drinks in my system for the night. I'm definitely not interested in anybody soliciting me since it's my day off, and I'm hoping nobody does.

I'm perched on a barstool, ordering myself a drink by only saying the names of the alcohols since I don't know how to make it more complex of a request. I've had to acquire the taste of neat tequila and vodka, which now I don't mind. The buzz comes on fast and it doesn't require me to know any Spanish of any kind.

A man sits beside me, saying something in Spanish to which I ignore, pretending as if he's not talking to me.

Then, in perfect English, he says, "No Spanish then, huh?"

With surprise and shock fixed onto my face, I turn to look at the man beside me. He has tanned skin and soft brown eyes with a dashing smile that sports a black mustache above it. His hair is also a slightly shaggy, shiny black that is flipped to the middle of his forehead. He's truly very attractive, but I really wanted to take the night off.

"No," I laugh slightly. "Hardly any."

The man chuckles as he sips his drink, a lit cigarette in the other hand. "Then what are you doing in a Spanish-speaking country?"

I wiggle in my seat, not wanting to give him any information about myself. "I could ask the same thing about you. You don't sound like you're from here."

"I'm not," he beams. "I was born in Chile, but then moved to America shortly after."

"And what are you doing in Colombia?" I ask with my head propped up on my hand.

"Vacation. I'm here with a few friends."

My head turns around to scan the bar. "Are they here now?"

"No, they're at their hotels with their wives."

"And you don't have a wife?" I laugh.

"No. It's hard to with my job."

My brows raise. "Oh, yeah? And what exactly is your job?"

"Would you be impressed if I told you I'm a pilot?" he chuckles with an arched black brow.

"Very," I giggle, "but only if that's the truth."

"And why would I lie?" he asks as he leans in, his voice low.

"Fine, Mr. Pilot. You wouldn't mind paying for my drinks then, would you?"

"Not in the slightest."

I giggle, shaking his hand as I stand off my barstool. "Then you have a good night."

With a victorious smile on my face, I leave the bar, making my way back to my apartment that isn't too far away. I thought it'd be better to walk rather than drive in case I drink too much, which in this case I haven't. Maybe a little tipsy, sure, but not enough to be impaired while driving.

There's a brief moment where I think I hear someone behind me, but I turn and nobody is there, making me shrug it off. I come up to the next alleyway, instinctively turning to look down it to find it empty. Perhaps it's the alcohol or the unsettled feeling that nighttime gives me, but I can't help but feel like I'm being followed.

I make it back to my apartment safely, climbing up the stairs in the building with groans of disapproval, my feet aching from my heels. At my door, I push the key in, being greeted by my shitty apartment that still somehow envelops me with a sense of comfort.

Even though it's a rather run-down section of town, and a less than adequate building, I still feel the most at ease here.

My tight dress slides off my body with a gentle tug, slipping on a nightgown before I tuck myself into bed. My mind flicks back to Harry being thrust inside of me, and his beautiful face twisted with pleasure. It causes me to clench around nothing just from the memory of him, and I know that he's going to be my new addiction.

As I shut my eyes, there's a knock on my apartment door to which I groan. Who the hell is here this late at night? With a wobbly, tired and tipsy walk to my front door, I pull it open, a man bursting inside suddenly.

"What the fuck?" I ask, watching as I can now make out the man to be one of my father's associates, José. "What are you doing here?"

"We were raided," he says with his back turned to me, holding several keys of cocaine in his arms. "I'm hiding this here."

"What? No the fuck you're not!" I shout.

José pulls his gun out and draws it on me, making my hands fly up immediately. "How about you shut your stupid bitch mouth and listen to me?"

"I'm gonna tell my dad—"

He scoffs, stuffing the cocaine beneath my couch cushions. "Who do you think cleared me to come here? Ever think that maybe your dad just doesn't give a shit about you?"

My emotions are once again held at bay. Why the fuck can't I cry?

"Just please hurry up and get out."

He finishes hiding the rest of the powder, finally lowering his gun. "You're lucky I don't fuck you right here for being such a bitch."

I swallow, my eyes staying on the floor as I decide to not answer him.

"Don't act like you wouldn't love it," he laughs. "It's your job to be a whore." José gives me a rough smack across my face, making me fall to the floor as I grip it. "Be happy that's all I'm doing before I leave." He slams my apartment door.

For a bit after he leaves, I'm sat against my living room wall gripping my cheek that throbs with a stinging pain. This isn't a feeling I'm unfamiliar with. The burn in my face only reminds me that I really am worthless here, and nothing more than a prostitute with no life worth living.

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#pedro pascal smut #javier pena #pedro pascal fic #smut #yn fanfic #pedro pascal #narcos #javier pena smut #narcos smut

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myaekingheart · 4 years

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104. Seijo Seika

Anata wo ikebana ni shite shimaimaseu Itsumo soba ni ite itadakemasu yo ni Anata wo ikebana ni shite shimaimaseu Soto no kaze ni taorarete shimawanu yo -Seijo Seika, Kazuhiko Inoue

So this was it: twenty six. Rei furrowed her brows as sunlight poured through the windows, feeling around for her fiancé. She swallowed back the lump in her throat as the realization hit her: he was already gone. Of course. With a groan, Rei buried her head beneath her pillow and cocooned herself even further into the blankets. As if she hadn’t already been tempted enough to isolate for the day. There was no point in celebrating without Kakashi.

A part of her cursed Tsunade for even assigning him to a mission on her birthday but Rei knew it really couldn’t be helped. One cannot will the ninja world to stop turning whenever they feel like it. Besides, it wasn’t like she care to make a big spectacle of her birthday anyway. What part of getting old was even worth celebrating? It’s just another year closer to death. Rei’s fingers involuntarily twitched against the pale scars lining her forearm. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and willed herself back to sleep.

Within a matter of seconds, however, Toshio shook the mattress as he jolted toward the bedroom door. Rei watched as he scratched at the carpet and barked incessantly. Clanking and banging echoed from the kitchen. Perfect. Just how she wanted to start her day: with a home invasion. Who the hell even broke into someone’s house at 8am? Rei didn’t have time to wonder. In a flash, she grabbed the kunai from her nightstand and ripped the blankets back. The knob slowly turned. The door creaked open. Rei was suddenly highly aware of the fact that she was wearing no pants. With a battle cry, she launched her kunai straight for her opponent’s head.

Kakashi’s eyes widened as he ducked just in time. The knife just barely missed his head, whizzing past his ear to stick in the living room wall. Plates and silverware clanked as he attempted to steady the tray of food in his hands. “I thought you did your killing after breakfast!” he exclaimed with a hint of exasperation. Toshio happily gobbled up a stray piece of fruit that had rolled onto the floor, his previous defense vanishing.

Rei stammered as she tried to form the proper questions. Why are you here? What happened to your mission? Is something wrong? Did you get fired? The confusion on her face was almost tangible.

“My assignment got cancelled at the last minute” Kakashi explained, sitting on the edge of the bed. He placed the tray before her with a soft smile. He had really outdone himself: fluffy tomagoyaki, fresh fruit glistening with juice, toast dripping in silky butter and honey, and her favorite pastries, flaky and fruity and drizzled with glaze. Steam wafted lazily up from a cup of green tea, the warmth of which was perfect for a March morning such as this. “So it looks like I can spend your birthday with you after all” he added happily.

Rei could hardly contain her joy. She leapt forward, wrapping her arms around him with a laugh. Kakashi abruptly reached out to steady the tray, the mattress rocking with her movement. That was twice now that he nearly lost all of his hard work. “You better eat before a meteor crashes into your breakfast” he jested. He glanced to Toshio begging at the side of the bed before adding, “Third time’s a charm.”

Rei could hardly keep the smile off her face as she leaned back and started on her eggs. Perhaps her birthday wasn’t going to be so dreadful after all. She watched as Kakashi carefully shifted so as to sit cross-legged before her. God, he was so cute. “I hope you didn’t leave the house looking like you do” she joked, sipping her tea. “Forgetting the mask is like the equivalent of walking around naked for you.”

Kakashi chuckled and shook his head. “Are you trying to tell me something?” he smirked. “Because I can take my pants off if you want.”

“Ooh, breakfast and a show?” Rei replied. She poked at his thigh with her chopstick and giggled.

“Well, it is your day” Kakashi replied. “You’re in charge.”

“That’s dangerous” Rei laughed, taking another bite of her food.

“Why? What did you have in mind?” Kakashi asked. “Tightrope walking on telephone poles? Hunting down rogue shinobi?”

Rei shook her head. “Not even close.”

“So what do you want to do for your birthday, then?”

Sucking in a deep breath, a small smile crept onto Rei’s lips as she looked him dead in the eyes and replied, “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

Kakashi gave a single, definitive nod then as he affirmed, “Alright, then. Nothing it is.” He grinned wide as she leaned over the tray to kiss him. They both knew that nothing really meant anything. That nothing was a simple promise of possibility, a liberation from obligation. The ability to do whatever you damn well pleased when you pleased to do it. That was the kind of birthday Rei had always preferred—to not be tethered by the dullness of parties and people but rather to live unhindered for once in her life. No rules, no responsibilities. Just pure, absolute freedom.

As she finished her food, Kakashi cuddled up beside her and pulled the book from her nightstand. The pages were yellowed, the edges jagged, and the cover was nearly falling off of the shoddy spine. Rei watched suspiciously as he flipped through it, wondering if he was judging her for her literary tastes. As if he was one to talk. Before she could question him on it, however, he flipped to where her bookmark was and began reading aloud. At first she thought he was mocking her—the way he read had so much personality, so much depth of voice—but it was clear in his facial expressions and body language that his intent was quite the opposite. He wrapped his free arm around her as she snuggled against his chest, picking apart the pastry as she listened to his narration. Toshio had since reclaimed his spot at the foot of the bed, resting his heavy head on Rei’s calves. She reached down to scratch behind his ear and he sighed contentedly. In a moment like this, suddenly that bright sunlight that awoke her wasn’t so unwelcome anymore. Instead it bathed everything in a warm and cozy hue, every edge highlighted with an angelic glow. It took all of her strength to not fall back asleep. This must be what heaven is like, she thought to herself.

Once she was finished eating, Kakashi set the book aside and carried the tray of empty plates back to the kitchen. Rei watched him through the doorway, catching the faint notes of a song that felt familiar but she couldn’t quite name. Anata wa ikebana ni shite shimaima seu, itsuma sobe ni ite itadakemasu yo ni, anata wo ikebana ni shite shimaimaseu, soto no kaze ni taorarete shimawanu yo…

His calming voice yet again nearly put her to sleep. Her eyelids grew heavy and she felt her head slowly fall back onto her pillow, only for her to snap herself awake. After three close calls, she peeled the covers back and slithered into the bathroom. The sound of water rushing from the showerhead nearly drowned out Kakashi’s voice completely and for a moment, Rei genuinely regretted it. But then the door creaked open and there he was, leaning against the doorway. “Need some help?” he asked. Rei’s cheeks burned. She could never say no.

He drew her oversized t-shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor, then hooked a finger into the waist of her underwear. He paused a moment there, smiling down at the cartoon dogs on the fabric. To think: an elite ninja like her, with a high kill count to boot, wearing such cute—and, dare he say, childish—panties. He chuckled before sliding them down her thighs and watching her kick them into the corner. He undressed himself as she stepped into the shower, testing the water temperature with her foot and then curving herself around the stream so as to adjust the knob accordingly.

“You know” she said, watching him tug the curtain closed as he joined her, “Didn’t you already get a shower this morning?”

Kakashi simply shrugged and replied, “There was never any harm in being clean.” Then, with a slight smile, he added, “Besides, it’s nicer when it’s with you.” He rested his hands on her hips and rubbed her sides, then brushed her hair back as she tilted her head under the showerhead. He lathered shampoo into her hair and kissed her shoulders as he soaped her body up. His fingers traced her scars and caressed her cheek. And when she wasn’t looking, he’d open his mouth beneath the showerhead so as to squirt her in the face when she turned back around. She would blow soap bubbles at him in retaliation only to be captured by his strong embrace seconds afterward, both of them hunching over in uproarious laughter.

As they dried off and got dressed, Kakashi approached the window and surveyed the village below. It was truly a beautiful day with the clearest of skies and cherry blossoms like cotton candy lining the streets. “We should take advantage of the cherry blossoms before they disappear” he said wistfully.

“You think so?” Rei asked, shaking her hair dry like a dog. She considered the idea for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I think that would be nice. I’m sure Toshio would appreciate a long walk anyways.”

The minute the word walk fell from her lips, Toshio’s ears perked up. They made eye contact for a split second before he leapt to his feet and began circling her excitedly, barking and jumping. Kakashi watched as she tried to simultaneously calm him and slip into her sweater, but her head got stuck in a sleeve and Toshio was only growing more excited by the minute.

“You might want to choose your words more carefully next time” he joked, attempting to redirect Toshio into the living room. The dog immediately went to the front door, stamping his feet and whimpering impatiently. Rei wiggled and writhed before her head popped out of the appropriate hole, her hair frizzy and face flushed. She stuck her tongue out at Kakashi playfully before rushing to slip on her sandals. The moment Kakashi opened the door, Toshio booked it down the hallway, spotted tongue flapping out of the side of his mouth as he went. Rei and Kakashi locked eyes and laughed before chasing after him.

Konoha felt so peaceful and warm. Children raced and laughed in the streets as cherry blossoms floated leisurely on the breeze. Rei intertwined her fingers with Kakashi’s as they walked along, Toshio strolling ahead of them to sniff every tree trunk and bark at every passerby. The sweet smell of spring hung in the air.

“So now that we’re out” Kakashi started, “Is there anything special you want to do?”

Rei shook her head. “Not particularly” she replied. “Why? Is there anything special that you want to do?”

Kakashi chuckled and replied, “Like I said earlier, it’s your day so you call the shots.”

Cocking her brow, Rei gazed back at him suspiciously. “But…?” she asked.

Of course she could see right through him. Sighing, he replied, “But there is one thing I think we should do while we’re here.” Rei had been so enthralled with the ambiance of the village that she had scarcely realized what direction they were walking in. The two of them stopped outside of a row of shops, the largest of which had a green awning and displays of new publications outside.

“Oh no, absolutely not” Rei said, shaking her head and recoiling. The last thing she needed was to see her parents today. They were always so weird on her birthday—so passive aggressive and sentimental. Another year where you haven’t been killed. An excuse to convince her to quit her job.

Kakashi frowned and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m sure they would be really disappointed if you didn’t at least stop in to say hello” he replied. “After all, they did give you life.”

“Yeah, and they’ve spent every waking moment of it trying to tell me what to do” Rei fired back. “I just want one day where their bullshit doesn’t hang over my head. Is that too much to ask?”

“I suppose not” Kakashi sighed. He toed the ground before turning to walk in the opposite direction, muttering in sing-song, “Though I’m sure Grandma Teiko will be really sad you didn’t stop by.”

Rei pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes as he glanced at her over his shoulder. He knew her weaknesses all too well. After a moment’s stalemate, Rei threw her head back with a groan, grabbed Kakashi by the wrist, and stomped inside Kaminoki. “Just know I’m only doing this for Grandma Teiko” she muttered under her breath. And really, that was all Kakashi needed.

Hana was checking out a customer when Rei and Kakashi slipped inside, the bell above the door signalling their arrival. A wide grin spread across her face as she hurried the young man out of the store and then rushed to her daughter with arms open wide. “I’m so glad you stopped by!” Hana cooed, hugging her daughter close. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, mom” Rei muttered. She could feel her mother’s cheeks grow hot and her chest rising and falling unevenly to alert of impending tears.

Hana sniffled and leaned back, brushing the long bangs out of Rei’s face. You shouldn’t hide your pretty face, she always said. A bittersweet smile touched Hana’s lips. “I can’t believe you’re already twenty six” she croaked. “It feels like just yesterday I was pushing you out of my—”

“Okay, mom! That’s enough!” Rei interrupted, her face turning bright red. Kakashi couldn’t help but chuckle, earning him a sharp glare from his fiancée. The faster they got this over with, the better. “So, uh, where’s Dad and Grandma Teiko?” Rei asked.

Hana and Kakashi locked eyes for a moment, the Copy Ninja giving a single nod. “Your father” Hana started, skirting around the checkout counter, “is upstairs doing what he always does.” She knelt down and began rummaging around in the counter drawers. Toshio leapt up onto his hind legs to sniff around the countertop, hoping for treats.

“What a surprise” Rei rolled her eyes. She reached out to take Kakashi’s hand in hers, a silent plea for support, before abruptly adding, “Well if you guys are busy, I certainly don’t want to hold you up!” She patted her thigh for Toshio to come.

“No, really! It’s fine!” Hana exclaimed. She reached across the counter to take Rei’s free hand in hers, a pelading smile touching her lips. “Please, you only just got here. At least go upstairs and say hello.”

Rei blinked, instantly suspicious. She began fearing balloons and banners and birthday cake awaiting her. “O-okay…” she stammered quietly.

Hana glanced to Kakashi before motioning toward the back door. “I’ll be up in a minute!”

Rei squeezed Kakashi’s hand as he urged her to go first. The staircase was so rickety and narrow, they could really only go single file. Toshio followed close behind, close enough for Rei to keep her hand atop his head as they ascended. A lump rose in her throat and her hands felt shaky and numb. The further they went, the more compelled she felt to rush back downstairs and bolt out the front door or jump out of the nearest window.

Quiet muttering echoed from behind the door as Rei reached the top of the stairs. Her hand hesitated on the knob, shaky and unsure. Toshio nudged the back of her leg in encouragement before Rei sucked in a deep breath and stepped inside.

Her eyes immediately landed on Grandma Teiko. Crouched down in the kitchen, she hummed a familiar tune as she pulled a small cake from the oven. A single strand of wrinkled crepe paper hung wistfully across the doorway and there was a small stack of presents in the corner. “Well, if that’s not perfect timing” Teiko chuckled, turning her gaze to her granddaughter.

Rei shook her head and laughed in disbelief. This was exactly what she had feared and yet, because it was Grandma Teiko, she couldn’t even be mad about it.

“Your mother wanted to do more but I told her ‘now listen, Rei doesn’t like anything fancy so you better dial it back’” Teiko explained. Rei watched as she skirted around the counter and began setting out small ceramic plates and colorful napkins. “Now if I was in charge of all of this, I wouldn’t have done anything more than a single pastry with one candle and no decorations but you know how your mother is.” There was a twinkle in her eyes, a shared understanding between the two of them. At least someone was sane. Rei had never been more grateful for Grandma Teiko.

As they chatted, Kakashi slipped inside quietly. Rei glanced at him over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of something hidden behind his back. Hana followed close behind. “You really didn’t need to do all of this” Rei commented, looking to her mother.

Hana smiled softly and shook her head. “Yes I did” she commented. “What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t celebrate the day that made me one? I’m just grateful you’re happy and healthy and can celebrate your birthday to begin with.” Rei winced at the sentiment. Though vague and slightly underhanded, she knew exactly what her mother meant: another year you haven’t gotten yourself killed. Before anything more could be said, Grandma Teiko hobbled into the office to retrieve Rei’s father.

Rei huffed her bangs out of her face and sunk down onto the living room couch. “So I guess we’re doing the whole nine yards here? Offkey singing and shiny wrapping paper included?” she asked.

Kakashi settled beside her and rested a hand on her knee. “We’ll sing extra loud so the nieghbors can hear” he jested. Rei grimaced and playfully punched him in the arm, eliciting nothing but laughter from her fiancé. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, but this only emphasized the fact that he was still hiding something behind his back. As she leaned nearer, she peered around to try to sneak a peek but it was no use. Kakashi blocked her attempt with a cheeky grin, the kind that silently whispered not so fast. Rei frowned and leaned back in defeat with arms crossed. She was so cute when she was pouty, Kakashi couldn’t help himself from kissing the tip of her nose through his mask. He loved how deeply she blushed from the surprise affection, especially in front of her parents.

Yuruganai trudged into the room just in time, gagging at the sight of such public displays. “Save it for the bedroom” he grumbled, sinking down into his favorite armchair. Hana cupped her hand over her mouth, her face bright red, as she tried to avoid the thought of her daughter’s relationship being anything other than puritanical.

“Let the kids have their fun!” Grandma Teiko exclaimed. She turned off all the lights as Hana finished icing the cake and set it upon the coffee table. She lit the candles and then guided everyone in singing Happy Birthday.

Of all the traditions Rei had to suffer through, the singing was probably the one she hated the most. Everything about it was hell: the volume, the melodic dissonance, being the center of attention. She clenched her jaw a little too tightly when she smiled, tightening her grip on Kakashi’s hand. Toshio howled along imperfectly.

The cake was phenomenal, per usual. It was Hana’s secret recipe, the one she used for everyone’s birthdays. Her cooking always delivered even if Rei could’ve done without the globs of icing. Toshio licked a dollop from Rei’s finger as she asked, “So what kinds of presents does twenty six get me? Crippling debt? Crotch goblins? Angina?”

Grandma Teiko snorted. “That’s not until twenty nine” she corrected. She reached into the pile of presents and handed over a small box wrapped in red foil. Rei took it gratefully and carefully unwrapped it to find a small handpainted flowerpot. “For the chakra plants” Teiko elaborated.

From her mother, she received a packet of wildflower seeds—“To match the flowerpot” she said—and a new cardigan she had found at the boutique around the corner. Her father gifted her a paperweight that was just as dull and unsuspecting as one would imagine. And then it was Kakashi’s turn.

Rei cocked an eyebrow and said in fake suspicion, “Now what else could you have possibly gotten me?” She held up her left ring finger to emphasize her point. And really, what more could she ask for when he had already pledged his commitment to her?

“Oh” Kakashi said in quiet, mock disappointment. “Then I guess you don’t want this after all.” Here, he finally revealed the package he had been hiding behind his back. “Such a shame. I really thought you were going to like it, too.”

“Well, seeing as you went to all that trouble…” Rei replied sheepishly, before quickly turning and reaching her hands out, demanding “Gimme!”

Kakashi handed the present over mercifully, watching with a careful eye as she set it in her lap. Wrapped in unassuming parchment, Rei knew immediately that it was a book. She was careful not to tear too violently through the paper as if it was a precious treasure that must be handled as such. Her breath hitched in her throat as the cover began to reveal itself.

“Kakashi, you didn’t” she gasped, looking at him in questionable disbelief. It was a leatherbound first edition of her favorite book, the very same one he had read aloud to her earlier, in mint condition. “This must have cost you a fortune.”

“We all pitched in” Hana chimed.

“I’ve been in contact with a seller in Amegakure who claimed he had one” Yuruganai replied. “Traded him for ten shipments of the newest Icha Icha crap. Apparently it’s super popular over there.” Yuruganai scrunched his face up in disgust at the thought.

Rei traced the embossing on the cover, admiring the detailed tree branches and frolicking fantasy creatures. “You guys really outdid yourselves” she whispered, smiling. “Thank you for this.”

Grandma Teiko hobbled over and pulled Rei into a tight hug with her free arm. “It was really no trouble” she said. “But I will say I should get some credit for coming up with the idea.”

“You would understand the trouble if you had to correspond with Amegakure” Yuruganai muttered. His tone seeped with underlying disdain for the Rain Village’s politics.

Kakashi took Rei’s hand in his and added, “This doesn’t mean you have to get rid of the old copy, by the way.” He brushed the bangs out of her face and smiled. “I know how sentimental your original is for you.”

“I didn’t get that impression at all—that this was supposed to be a replacement” Rei assured. “If anything, I’m happy to have two! A sentimental one and a fancy one.” For a split second, the thought of settling down to read from the new copy with her future children flickered in the back of her mind and Rei grew suddenly woozy. She rested a hand upon Toshio’s head, who was vying for more icing, in an attempt to steady her thoughts.

“So, do you two have plans tonight?” Hana asked over her shoulder, carrying the dirty dishes to the sink. “If you’re not doing anything, you should stay for dinner.”

Rei, still slightly unhinged, glanced to Kakashi and it was clear the sirens were sounding in her head. “Actually” Kakashi stepped in, “we already made dinner plans with some friends.”

“Oh” Hana said, slightly dejected. “Okay then. I hope you both have fun. Perhaps if it’s not too late, you can stop by for tea and dessert instead?”

“We’ll, uh, we’ll think about it, Mom” Rei replied. “But thank you.” Despite the formality, her and Hana were both well aware that if she was meeting up with Sekkachi, Rei was going to be shit-faced drunk by the end of the night. Another matter Hana did not want to think about.

“Let Rei enjoy her birthday” Teiko shouted into the kitchen. “After all, you’re only young once!”

“Yes, but you also only have one family” Hana added, slightly peeved.

Grandma Teiko chuckled. “Not if you get a jump on procreation” she replied, winking at her granddaughter. Rei’s face turned bright red, forcing a polite smile as she swallowed back her anxiety.

Kakashi rubbed the back of his neck nervously, adding, “Let’s take one thing at a time.” He panned the room to find Yuruganai shaking his head and rising to his feet, evidently done with the whole conversation. The mood was fizzling out. That was their cue.

By the time they left, it was nearly sunset. Rei burst out into the street and keeled over with hands on her knees, gasping for breath. “Thank god that’s over with” she sighed.

“That suffocating, huh?” Kakashi chuckled. Deep down, he hated to admit that he felt it, too. Rei’s parents may have given him their blessing for the engagement but he knew full well the reservations they still held toward him. Feelings like that are, unfortunately, not so easily shaken.

Rei puffed out her cheeks and nodded with wide eyes, hands firmly on her hips. Toshio nudged her hand, licking whatever sugary residue still clung to her fingertips. “Let’s go” she said after catching her breath, motioning for them to follow. “I need to try and salvage whatever’s left of the day before I lose my goddamn mind.”

Kakashi trotted to catch up with her, readjusting the canvas bag of her gifts on his shoulder. “So what else would you like to do then?” he asked. They walked along the winding pathway through the park. Old men sat at the lake’s shore fishing and reminiscing, parents carried sleepy toddlers in their arms. A family of ducks travelled downstream, their quacks echoing off the water’s surface.

“I don’t know” Rei sighed. It was clear she was steadily growing overwhelmed with her own thoughts. “Something distracting, I guess. What was that thing you said about dinner plans with friends? Is that actually a thing or did you just pull that excuse out of your ass?”

Kakashi shrugged. “Guy had suggested we get together tonight, and I did mention that takeout place you like” he replied. The thought of her favorite greasy fast food immediately put Rei in a brighter mood.

“I would love that” she abruptly replied.

Smiling, Kakashi gave Rei’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “Alright then, takeout it is.” Despite the promise of such simplicity, it was clear to Kakashi that there was still something bothering her. When Rei smiled back at him, he could tell she was tense and preoccupied. “Is everything okay?” he asked.

“What? Yeah! Of course!” Rei lied. Kakashi narrowed his eyes in suspicion. It took all of ten seconds for Rei to crack. “I mean, I don’t know, seeing my parents just kinda kicked my ass” she admitted.

“Was there something that I missed?” he asked. “What did they say? Or do?”

Sighing, Rei shook her head. She was too scared to bring up all the overbearing thoughts in her head. If she could even formulate them into words in the first place, that is. “It’s really nothing” she insisted. “The whole thing just gave me a lot to think about.”

“Like what?” Kakashi asked. “If something is bothering you, you need to tell me what’s going on. Please.”

“Okay…” Rei said slowly, cautiously. She raked her bangs back and tried to prepare herself. “I mean, I guess part of it just has to do with how I’m still trying to adjust to the fact that we’re engaged, you know? And our future, I mean—”

Before she could finish her sentence, a loud splash interrupted the conversation. The couple whipped around to find none other than Toshio paddling toward the center of the lake.

“Toshio, what the hell are you doing?!” Rei shouted after him, but it was useless. If he could hear her, it was clear he had chosen to ignore her. Rei watched as he swam nearer to the family of ducks, correctly predicting exactly what was to happen next. Sighing, she rubbed her temples as the birds squawked and scattered.

Kakashi couldn’t resist laughing. He should’ve expected as much. “Well, they don’t call him a retriever for nothing” he jested.

“Very funny” Rei sighed.

Once Toshio returned, he dropped the duck at Rei’s feet and grinned happily, spotted tongue lopping out of the side of his mouth. Rei lifted the duck up by the neck with her index and thumb, cringing. The bird hung lifelessly in her grasp.

“At least he thought to get you a present” Kakashi laughed. “Happy birthday, here’s a dead duck!”

“Well, I guess we have a backup plan for dinner tonight” Rei replied. Then, smirking to her fiancé, she asked, “Do you know how to make duck a l’orange?” Toshio, apparently pleased with the idea, barked joyfully and spun in circles so quickly his tail whacked him in the face. Kakashi and Rei smiled at each other before they both erupted into fits of hysterical laughter.

Tubes of various colored lipstick and palettes of eyeshadow littered the bathroom counter. Rei stared intently at her reflection, her features a jigsaw puzzle disassembled and strange. The harsh vanity lights highlighted every imperfection: the freckles dotting her shoulders, the depth of the scar across the bridge of her nose, the thickness of her eyebrows and her uneven smile and her frizzy copper hair. For a moment, she didn’t even recognize herself. She gripped the edge of the bathroom counter and sucked in a deep breath. If she wasn’t careful, she was certain she was going to be sick. Perhaps going out wasn’t such a good idea after all. The weight of her own intrusive thoughts would surely prevent her from enjoying herself. Her eyes skated down to the ring on her finger, the way the pearl caught the light, and she shuddered. The future was so big and blinding and intimidating.

“Rei? Are you okay in there?” Kakashi called from the other side of the door. Rei jolted, his voice snapping her from her silent breakdown.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine!” she shouted back. It was clear to Kakashi, however, that she was not, in fact, fine.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“Um, I mean…w-why?” she asked back.

Kakashi chuckled uneasily under his breath. “Because we only have one bathroom” he replied. Rei, suddenly feeling very stupid, creaked the door open. He slipped past her, casually unzipping his pants so he could go to the bathroom. She tried to ignore his presence and make herself look busy, shuffling through her five different tubes of lipstick in an effort to look busy. Anything to avoid suspicion. Not that Kakashi wasn’t suspicious already, because he was. “You’re taking a while to get ready” he commented.

“Yeah, and what about it?” Rei snapped, whipping around to shoot him a sharp glare. Kakashi blinked as his trickle slowed to a halt, zipping his pants up. It took her all of two seconds to realize she had made a terrible mistake. Rei’s face turned bright red and she dropped her eyes to the floor, muttering “Oh god, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Rei” Kakashi said, voice firm. For a moment, she was certain he was angry with her. He approached and placed his hands on her shoulders, willed her to look up at him. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Rei chewed her bottom lip and nodded hesitantly. “Y-yeah, I’m just…I guess I’m just kind of tense and stressed or something.” She knew she didn’t sound convincing. She couldn’t bring herself to try any harder. Her energy for such things was rapidly depleting.

Kakashi dropped his hands and approached the sink, turning on the water and pumping soap onto his palm. “You’ve been kind of off ever since we visited your parents. Did something happen that I don’t know about?” he asked. She watched him lather the soap on his hands, the way the bubbles caught the light and filled the sink. They popped and crackled as Kakashi rinsed his hands and then reached for the towel. “I know how stressful seeing them always is for you. I’m sorry if you’re upset that I insisted we drop in in the first place.”

“N-no, it’s not that at all!” she assured him. “I could never be mad at you for that.” She knew how important family was to him. It was so easy to cherish what you no longer have. Sighing, Rei sank down onto the edge of the tub. “I just wish my family didn’t make me think about things I don’t have the guts to face yet.”

“Like what?” Kakashi asked. He crouched down in front of her and brushed the hair back out of her face. Rei couldn’t bring herself to look at him and in her silence, he connected the dots on his own. “Is this about what they said about having kids?” he asked.

Rei’s face paled and she coughed on her own saliva. “Well—I just—I mean…” she stammered. When she couldn’t bring herself to produce any more words, she groaned and drew her knees up to her chest, nearly falling into the tub in the process. Kakashi reached out and caught her, stifling a laugh as he pulled her close. “Kakashi…” Rei sighed. She buried her face in his sleeve. “I’m just scared. I don’t know what it is. It just feels like there’s all this pressure, like there’s so much ahead of us and it’s…it’s daunting. I don’t know what to do.”

“I know” Kakashi whispered. He cupped her cheek and kissed her forehead. “I feel like birthdays always bring out the sentimentalist in people. It’s so easy to get caught up in these ideas about family and the future, and about what you should accomplish by what age.” Taking her left hand in his, he toyed with the ring on her finger as he added, “Being engaged only makes those expectations feel that much heavier.”

Rei gazed at him empathetically. She hated how comforting it was knowing he was feeling the pressure, too. “I just want to numb it all out. Do things on our own terms. It’s only been two weeks” she replied. And really, how were they supposed to have the entire rest of their lives planned out in only fifteen days? None of it made any sense. If only everyone else could be so empathetic.

“We will” Kakashi assured her. “We don’t have to follow anyone else’s rules but our own.” He smiled down at her and caressed her cheek. Whatever imperfections she saw in herself were, to him, a masterpiece. Her cheeks were so soft and warm and when she smiled, she lit up the whole room. His heart swelled. “For now, I don’t want you to think about it anymore” he continued. “This is your night and I want you to enjoy every second of it.” A small smile touched her lips as she nodded and drew his hand up to kiss his knuckles. At least if she had to be here, face to face with her own future, she could take solace in knowing he was right by her side, hands and hearts intertwined until their dying breath.

Chukaryori Inn was an unsuspecting little place around the corner from Ichiraku. It was not necessarily known for it’s food or it’s atmosphere and therefore was always nearly empty. Rei wasn’t sure why she liked the place so much—perhaps the liminality of it made her feel concealed and therefore safe. The ominous flicker of the neon sign through evening rain instantly calmed her as they ducked inside.

Despite being a takeout place, the lobby of the restaurant housed a handful of mismatched tables and chairs where patrons could eat if they chose to. Guy and Sekkachi had already settled into a spot backed up against the potted bamboo sagging in the corner. Directly above them was a speaker fixed to the mirrored wall through which fuzzy shakuhachi music played.

The moment the little bell above the door jingled to signify their arrival, Rei locked eyes with Might Guy and suddenly knew what it must feel like to be a small animal spotted by prey in the wild. Without a moment of hesitation, Guy triumphantly leapt up onto the table. “There’s the birthday girl!” he shouted, pointing directly at her. The table wobbled beneath him.

Sekkachi looked up at him sharply, tugging on his legwarmer and muttering “Get the fuck down before you break a leg.” Whether she meant one of Guy’s legs or a table leg wasn’t important. The waitress behind the counter eyed them suspiciously before slowly ducking into the back.

“Oh god, please, no” Rei muttered under her breath, her cheeks burning. Kakashi placed his hand on the small of her back as he guided her toward the table. She shielded her face from her own reflection as Kakashi pulled her chair out for her. She sank down graciously.

With legs already propped up on the table, Sekkachi smirked and tooted a dorky little paper horn. “Congratulations: you’re one year closer to death!” she exclaimed.

Rei narrowed her eyes but her lips pursed into a smile. “You’re one to talk” she quipped. “Aren’t you turning thirty in a few weeks?”

Sekkachi swatted at the air as she took a swig of her drink. “Let’s not talk about that” she dismissed. “Tonight is all about Y-O-U.”

“Unfortunately” Rei chuckled, self-deprecating.

Kakashi rested a hand on her back, leaning down so that they were almost at eye level. “I’ll go order our food, just let me know what you want” he smiled. Then, turning to the others, “Have you ordered yet?”

Guy nodded emphatically. “I’ve never eaten here before but everything looked so good, I couldn’t help but try a bit of everything!” he replied excitedly. Whipping out the paper menu at their table, he pointed to the picture of his dish and exclaimed, “The perfect meal: a pupu platter!”

Sekkachi rolled her eyes, muttering, “And with all the grease in this shit, you’re gonna be having pupu all week.”

Rei smirked, asking, “And what did you order?”

“The same thing she always orders!” Guy exclaimed. He shoved the menu haphazardly back into it’s plastic container. “White rice and ice water. You know, Sekkachi, I really think you ought to expand your horizons! Indulge! Experience the power of food!”

“Mm, yeah, no thanks” Sekkachi replied. “I experience the power of food every time it hits my guts. I’ll just stick with the usual.”

Shaking his head, Kakashi then turned to Rei and asked, “Do you want your usual?” Rei smiled and nodded. She loved that he knew her well enough to know exactly what she wanted. It wasn’t like they had even been regulars here for very long. Rei had only really just discovered Chukaryori a few months ago on Mikazuki’s recommendation. And yet there was something so comforting and casual about the food, she fell in love at first bite.

Rei shook the rainwater from her hair as Kakashi approached the counter. “I have a feeling that storm outside is going to get a lot worse before it gets better” she commented.

“Well, you know what they say” Sekkachi replied, leaning back in her seat. “April showers bring May flowers.”

Rei stared back at her dumbly, blinking. “Sekkachi, it’s March.”

“Eh, fuck it, close enough” Sekkachi swatted at the air.

Guy grinned at the two of them before asking, “So, Rei, how has your birthday been so far? Have you done anything special?”

Shaking her head, Rei replied, “Not really. We just kinda hung out. Stopped in to see my family for a little bit.”

“Hana made cake, didn’t she?” Sekkachi chuckled. She knew Rei’s mother all too well. She remembered how desperately Hana Natsuki had tried to get her to eat during childhood sleepovers, the softly offended glares at nearly-full plates of food. Whenever Sekkachi felt especially bad about this, she always ended up having to trudge home at 2am with a stomachache. It wasn’t worth it. Sekkachi could handle disappointing her if it meant saving her digestive system.

Rei nodded, sucking in a deep breath. “Of course she did” she replied. “With all the nauseating icing you can imagine.” The way she said this, the telling wink, was a clear indicator that icing was merely a metaphor. Luckily, Sekkachi had known her long enough to know exactly what icing meant: well-meaning but overbearing comments that only emphasized how hopeless you were.

Sekkachi shuddered. “Heaven have mercy on your soul.”

Because it was predominantly a takeout restaurant, Chukaryori didn’t bother with plates. Their food was served in lidded aluminum pans and paper pagoda boxes dripping with grease. Guy’s order was so large, it required three containers. Crispy egg rolls, spare ribs, juicy chicken, beef teriyaki, wontons, crab rangoons, and fried shrimp towered before him, threatening a night of indigestion. He snapped his chopsticks apart, murmured a mouth-watering itadakimasu, and dove right in.

Kakashi watched in concerned awe, cocking an eyebrow and pursing his lips. “Guy, that’s a lot of food” he commented warily.

“Yeah, are you sure you can eat all of that?” Rei asked.

Guy grinned as he stuffed his face. “My body needs all the delicious energy it can get!” he exclaimed. “And if I can’t eat it all, then Sekkachi will help me!”

Sekkachi paused, mouth full of bland white rice. “Not on your life” she muffled, swallowing hard and chugging her ice water.

Laughing, Guy’s eyes then skated to Kakashi’s plate. The copy ninja squeezed a complimentary lemon wedge over his kara-age, perfectly crispy. “Hey, Kakashi” Guy commented, cocking a brow, “I thought you didn’t like fried food.”

Kakashi shrugged. “I like kara-age sometimes” he said. “We don’t really come here often enough for me to get sick of it, but for what it’s worth, everything on the menu here is fried. At least this comes with salad.” He reached for a bottle of ginger dressing on the table and drizzled it across a bowl of leafy lettuce, crisp cucumbers, and shredded carrot.

As Rei dug into her own food, she felt a surge of welcome happiness within the pit of her chest. Rain pattered on the roof and the fluorescent lights overhead hummed and flickered but their collective laughter drowned everything else out. While she never grew up eating subuta, each bite filled her with a warmth usually reserved only for nostalgic comforts. Her pork was sweet and tangy and the vegetables retained their crunch. The way the cook cut her carrots into the shape of flowers reminded Rei of her mother. That night, like every other night they ate from Chukaryori, Rei did not have any leftovers.

Guy, on the other hand, started confidently but was bested by his own hubris. Sekkachi shrugged, capping her container of rice. She’d eat the other half later, perhaps as a midnight snack. “At least you tried a little bit of everything” she commented.

“Wow” Rei replied, eyes wide and mouth agape, “I’m surprised by your optimism.” Sekkachi rolled her eyes, a silent threat to reach across the table and slap Rei on the shoulder.

Guy snapped the lids onto his containers in defeat, his stomach bloated and his face pale. “You know what this means?” he said. His comrades gazed back at him in anticipation. “I just need to train harder! One day, I’ll defeat you, you formidable pupu platter!” Rei clapped her hands over her mouth, stifling her hysterical laughter.

Though the rain had picked up by the time they all parted ways, Rei and Kakashi took the long route home. The streets were empty and the sky overhead was littered with stars. Rei spread her arms out wide as she strolled, tilting her head back so as to catch raindrops on her tongue. The moon was full and the air was cool. Kakashi couldn’t fight the grin on his masked face as he watched her inhibitions disappear. It was like they were young children again, carefree and candid. Nothing could hurt them.

Kakashi’s ardor grew the nearer they came to their apartment. He watched with a tender gaze as she kicked her shoes off at the front door, shook the rainwater from her hair, and the great care she took in stepping over Toshio asleep on the floor. It was when she approached the bookshelf, eyes focused as she considered the best place to put her new book, that Kakashi’s love became completely uncontainable. Without a moment of hesitation, he crept up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She gasped but fell into his embrace almost immediately. He rubbed her sides, lifting her shirt up slightly in the process.

“Kakashi, are you trying to tell me something?” she smiled. Her laughter was like paradise as he tugged his mask down, planted kisses along her jawline and down her neck.

“Not particularly” Kakashi lied. His fingers toyed at the hem of her pants, caressing the indent of her hipbone. A jolt of excitement coursed through his veins. She was right here in front of him, real as could be, and yet in moments like this he couldn’t even fathom how he had gotten so lucky. This was his future, snuggled up right in his arms. He couldn’t imagine devoting his life to anyone else. “Is it so wrong to want to give my future wife a little affection on her birthday?” he then asked, his lips curling into a smile.

Future wife. Those words were like a shot of morphine straight to her veins. “I like the sound of that” she whispered. Her hand skated down to rest atop his pressed against her stomach, melting into his embrace. Kakashi kissed her cheek as he toyed with the ring on her finger, turning it this way and that as if to confirm it still existed. His touch brought her a sense of peace unlike anything else. All of the anxiety that had built up within her throughout the day began to evaporate and in it’s place came a certain confidence, a solidification of thought. “Kakashi…” she sighed.

“Hmm?” he gently turned her face toward his. There was a tender sweetness in his eyes that only further confirmed her plan.

A soft, almost apprehensive laugh broke past her lips. “At the risk of sounding greedy,” she whispered, “I…I need to ask you for one gift for my birthday.”

“Oh?” Kakashi asked, cocking a brow. “The book wasn’t enough?” She could tell he was joking but that didn’t stop her anxiety from mounting.

Averting her eyes, she shook her head and muttered, “Actually, nevermind. Forget I said anything.” She broke away from his grasp and slipped into the bedroom. Perhaps it was better that she kept her mouth shut anyway. This was a bad idea.

“Rei, wait, no” he called after her, reaching for her wrist. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s fine” she shook her head. She couldn’t stand to look at him. She hadn’t even posed her question and yet she was far too embarrassed she had ever thought of it in the first place.

Kakashi’s gaze softened as he brushed the hair out of her face. “I’m sorry. What is it? Please tell me.” She had only enough strength to glance at him but his apologetic smile was enough to break down her weak walls.

“I just…” she started, voice cracking. She could feel his anticipation rising. Sucking in a deep breath then, she finally said it. “Kakashi, I want you to cum inside me.”

Kakashi drew back slightly, blinking. They had never done that before. Of all the years they had been together, he had always been so devoted to pulling out—perhaps a little too devoted. And yet here she was now, asking him to empty himself inside of her. To give her every ounce of himself. “R-Rei, but what if you--?” he started, but she quickly cut him off.

“I know” she said. “We’ll be fine. I don’t care. Just…please. I-I want to feel you.” Her cheeks were burning at the proposition, and she suddenly felt so stupid and shy.

A shiver ran down Kakashi’s spine as he swallowed hard. His mind raced as he considered this unexpected request, a part of him wondering what brought her to want this in the first place. Earlier she had been so panicked, so overwhelmed. The abrupt turn of thought was so jarring. Did she truly want this? Or did she just feel pressured? The look on her face, however, told him she was genuine. He tilte her head up and pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes in the hope that he could somehow silently transmit to her a sense of peace and clarity. She was ready. She was willing. She no longer feared the risk. Kakashi caressed her cheek, considered the ring on her finger. They were in this together now, whatever the future brought them. And if it unexpectedly brought them a child, then so be it. They could handle it. Perhaps that realization was what changed her heart’s direction, too. A small smile touched his lips as he drew her hips against his to emphasize his growing erection. “Okay” he whispered. “I’m all yours.”

Rei’s heart leapt into her throat, searching his face for any sign that he may be leading her on. She felt so guilty for wanting this, so hypocritical even, yet she found no hint of malice in his gaze. He pressed his lips to hers sweetly, tenderly, as they both migrated toward the bed. They broke their kiss for only a moment as Kakashi slid Rei’s shirt up over her head.

He straddled her hips as she fell back against the mattress, his gentle touch tracing the curvature of her breasts, her toned stomach, her plush hips. A small smirk touched his lips as he toyed with the hem of her underpants. “You’re wearing one of your nice pairs” he commented. Rather than the usual rips and tears, these were soft and pink and floral with teasing lace trim. “Are they new?”

“New enough” Rei whispered, running her hands through Kakashi’s hair. Her breath hitched as his lips traveled down her chest to her pelvis. He removed her underwear slowly and tossed them aside, then locked eyes with her as he spread her legs further apart. She loved the way he was looking at her, the hunger in his eyes, the slight smirk of his lips. She closed her eyes as he eased his way into her, hooking his arms beneath her legs so he could perfectly hit that spot she liked.

His pace began slow and steady but Rei could tell there was something about him that was different this time—every motion more powerful, more meaningful. She bit her lower lip as he thrust harder and faster, tightening his grip on her thighs.

“Rei...” he whispered, his voice breathless. “I-I’m close. Are you sure…you still…mm, want to do this?”

Rei dug her nails into his back as she considered his question for a moment. There was still time to back out. There was so much risk, and yet…

“Yes” she said definitively. “Yes, Kakashi. D-do it.”

With a single nod, Kakashi replied, “Okay.” His voice was so low, almost even a growl. He held her close as he picked up the pace, thrusting deep and fast inside her. His breath grew shaky and he prayed he could hold out, that he could withstand the instinct to pull out at the very last minute. She planted a few small kisses along his collarbone before gasping and burying her face in the crook of his neck. It was then that he knew she would make this so easy for him. How could he deny her when she was so vulnerable like this? When her body was racked by every buck and swerve of his hips?

Rei’s heart pounded as her body electrified and somehow it felt like the first time all over again. All she could think about was him: him on top of her, him inside of her, him holding her and fucking her and filling her. And then she felt his dick pulse inside her and his shaky breath against her neck and her entire body quivered. “K-Kakashi…” she whispered, her back arching against the mattress. He groaned and tangled his fingers in her hair, the ejaculation bringing on equal parts rapture and relief. And god, it was so much better this way. For a moment, he didn’t even care or consider the potential consequences. All he knew was the sweet, raw bliss of that perfect union, of a smooth finish, uninterrupted and real.

He stayed there, towering over her, for a long moment afterward before he could finally catch his breath. And then slowly he maneuvered himself out of her, sitting upright before her. He ruffled his hair with a breathy laugh, sweat beading on his brow. “How do you feel?”

Rei’s chest rose and fell quickly as she stared up at the ceiling, her face flushed and damp with sweat. How did she feel? It took her a moment to figure out the answer. “Good” she finally replied. “I feel…good.” She propped her hand behind her head and smiled softly back at him and he was immediately weak. He lunged toward her to press his lips hard against hers, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

“I’m glad” he whispered as she settled against his chest. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead and in that moment, she was at peace—more than she had expected to be. Rei’s eyes quickly grew heavy as Kakashi snuggled her close and then once again he began to sing. Anata wo ikebana ni shite shimaimaseu, itsumo soba ni ite itaadkemasu yo ni…

“Mm, Kakashi…” Rei moaned sleepily. “Why does that song sound so familiar…? I feel like I’ve been hearing it…all day…”

A small smile touched Kakashi’s lips as he brushed the hair back out of her face. “Don’t you remember?” he asked. “My mother used to sing it to me when I was little. It’s one of the only things I remember about her.” His heart skipped a beat as he remembered their childhood, the way he, in turn, would occasionally sing that very song to Rei when she was young and scared or wouldn’t stop crying or fall asleep. It had been so long since he had sang to her, so long since he had uttered those sweet lyrics at all. He wasn’t sure what made him remember them so abruptly—perhaps it was how peaceful she looked when he returned home that morning, riding the high of a last-minute day off. If only every day could be spent just like this, doing whatever they pleased, always together. Come morning, everything would be back to normal. He would go on missions again, leaving her behind, as she would to him. The world would start turning yet again and their careers would bring them to the brink of death, challenging that promise he had made to her so many years ago. But he didn’t want to think about that right now. For the time being, all that mattered—all that existed—was him and her and the little life they had built within this tiny apartment. Kakashi kissed the tip of Rei’s nose and cupped her cheek in his hand, then asked quietly, “So did you have a good birthday?”

Though exhausted and nearly unconscious, Rei forced her eyes open ever so slightly to look up at him, sleep drunk and sweet. “The best birthday” she murmured, smiling. “How could it be anything less when I got to spend it with you? My first birthday as your fiancée. Knowing I’m going to be your wife…that’s the best present I could’ve ever asked for.”

Kakashi’s heart swelled; he was so overwhelmed with love for her. He swallowed back the faintest threat of tears as he took her left hand in his, turning the engagement ring back and forth on her finger. If he was honest, he still couldn’t believe she had said yes. He still couldn’t believe that after all those years of distance and defiance, that she still promised to spend the rest of her life with him. He would forever be indebted to her boundless grace—he truly did not deserve her forgiveness. And yet her undying love for him was proof that perhaps he was never as irredeemable as he feared he was. That he still had hope and a purpose. That he still had a promise to her to uphold: to protect her until his dying breath, and in doing so forge a life with her that they could be proud of. He truly couldn’t ask for anything more. Kakashi drew her hand up so as to kiss her fingertips, his heart overflowing as she interlaced her fingers with his. He held their hands against his chest, the steady beat of his heart lulling her to sleep. Just before she slipped into complete slumber, she heard his voice whisper in her ear, soft and sweet.

I love you more than anything, Rei.

#LET THE CAVITIES COMMENCE #also warning of incoming smut lmfao #kakashi hatake #rei natsuki #the scarecrow and the bell #naruto #naruto oc #fanfiction

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kithtaehyung · 2 years

Text

basketball (3tan) (m) | myg

title: basketball (the weekend, pt. 1) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: running into yoongi after weeks, you realize that you finally get to see him again. at least, you thought so. warnings: cursing, tension, angst yall lmfao i am so sorry but trust the process ok, also a bunch of stuff happens in this one, protected, breast play, fingering, so much overthinking, orange yoongi is always a warning in itself, did i mention angst? note: the amount. of times. i wanted to talk about his chapter LMAO just know that it’s been ROUGH. more screaming in the author’s note at the end but yeah. lmfao. as always, thank you to my lovely betas @lavienjin�� and @joheunsaram for putting up with my many drafts and for the incredible support!! :’)) note 2: if you haven’t gotten around to the other three tangerines fics yet, i highly encourage you to read those first. it would make more sense! drop date: february 8th, 2022, 7:17pm est word count: 14k !

Idiot🙄 [7:02pm]: Are you home?

You [7:04pm]: Just got back

Idiot🙄: Incoming Call

“Hey.”

“Hey, can you bring us a ball? There’s one in the garage.”

You groan while looking at the entryway around your exhausted bones. “I just got inside.”

“So? We’re not far.”

“Then come get it!” Why the hell is he making you do it then? He’s got two working legs!

Your brother is quick with the rebuttal.

“Fuck that! We can’t leave ‘cus the court’ll get taken.”

Thumping your bag down on a nearby counter, you hear some audible sounds on the line—one of them definitely Jimin’s distinct laugh. “Where are you?”

“We’re at—Oh, Yoong, did you find a pump?”

Oh, fuck. Yoongi’s there?

Immediately, you wanna teleport.

“How do you not have one in your—Whatever, she’s bringing one.”

As someone that absolutely didn’t say anything close to agreement yet, you scoff on instinct. But… an opportunity to see Yoongi? On a basketball court of all places? You should’ve been leaving ten minutes ago.

You remember watching them while growing up on the days your brother begrudgingly took you along. While you sat on the sidelines busy with your actual life on your phone, the shouts and squeaks of sneakers served as annoying background noise.

Though, you remember with a smile that you did develop a tiny—only tiny, miniscule even—crush on Yoongi back then. The frightening mix of confidence and cockiness was hard not to be drawn to, especially when he was able to back up all the shit talk.

“You comin’?”

Shit, you didn’t even realize you weren’t talking! Recovering quickly while inwardly cursing your own damn mind, you huff, “Ass. I’ll change then head over.”

“Thanks! We’re across from the rec.”

“K. Wait, where in the garage?”

“Tub under the bikes.”

“K.”

Locking your door, you make your way over to the court a few blocks over with a ball under your arm and a canvas bag slung over your shoulder. You figured you’d bring them some water since, by precedence, they normally stayed out and played for hours.

Are the bottles also another excuse to have any sort of moment with Yoongi? Maybe.

But who are you kidding? The outfit you also changed into fit under that same urge—an outfit that you have been wanting to wear but didn’t have the guts to thus far.

After a few moments of worrying too much, you justified the clothes on the other plans you have for tonight. Didn’t make it anything to do with seeing anyone in particular.

Just practicing some confidence. That’s all.

After a good handful of minutes, you finally make it to the fenced court and immediately spot your brother leaning on the metal partition, greeting him with a slight bit of salt in your words.

As soon as he turns, he gives you a once over with furrowed brows. “What the hell are you wearing? You walked all the way here in that?”

You ignore him as you put your bag down on the sidewalk. Tossing your ball over the high barrier, you instead ask with a grunt, “Aren’t you leaving tomorrow?”

Thank god you launch it over the top in one try. It’s easily caught while he responds, “Yeah, that’s… That’s why we’re playing now.”

“You won’t be sore?”

“Relax. I’m not old.”

“I am.”

Oh, fuck.

Fuck.

On the other side of your sibling, Yoongi appears out of nowhere, lifting sweaty arms to hang equally drenched hands on chain links. As you take in his wet locks, you have to rein in every ounce of power from the universe just to not break when he simply says,

“Hi.”

“Your hair.” You blink once. Twice. It’s the same color you saw on one of those hair dye boxes in his bathroom that day. And what’s worse: it reminds you of goddamn tangerines. “Wow.”

As your brother launches into a huge rant about him dyeing it now of all times, Yoongi grins lopsided at your taking in the sight of his transformation.

Asshole! He fucking knows how good he looks right now!

When you turn to face your brother, your eyes betray you and linger on the nuisance a bit longer. “What do you mean now of all times?”

“He’s just got—”

“Relax,” Yoongi defends himself. “They won’t mind.”

“I guess. But ever since you dyed it, your phone’s been blowing up.” He turns around. “Jimin! Here!”

As your brother throws the ball to the other person you know on the court, he launches into a brief moment of nostalgia, the hollow bounces and his subject change almost enough to distract you from what he just said.

“It’s been so long since you went orange.”

Yoongi smiles a bit as he nods, wiping his hands with the bottom of his shirt. It’s cute how his downcast eyes soften a tad. What was that all about?

You really want to know, so you listlessly ask when the last time was while focusing on the court behind them.

And while your downfall watches Jimin lazily toss layups, you get a response from your sibling, “Damn. I don’t even remember. Seven years ago?”

“Eight,” Yoongi corrects offhandedly. “And you were just as bad.”

“Hey!”

Your brother laughs, and that’s when you wonder if you should join them on the other side of the fence, onto the court where some local bleachers have been placed.

Besides, you still want to know what your brother meant by Yoongi’s phone… The feeling that’s developing in your stomach isn’t good in the slightest.

“We thought we were hot shit, huh?”

“You still think you are,” you scoff, earning a tsk and a chuckle. It’s then that you remember what else you have with you—something you need to step onto the court to give them anyway. “Oh, wait. I brought water.”

They both watch as you fetch your bag and make your way to the fence opening, and you find this reunion a bit strange given your completely different relationships with the both of them. What’s even more awkward is the fact that your brother definitely doesn’t know about the other—if you can call whatever you have with Yoongi a relationship in the first place.

Now that you think about it, what would the both of you even be? Nothing, right? Close to it, at least. The phone call a couple weeks ago showed that there was something there, but there hasn’t been much contact since then. Minimal contact, actually, even though his phone is apparently constantly lit.

Fuck.

This is hard.

Once your shoes step onto colored concrete, Jimin comes jogging up while holding your ball. His voice is light enough to lift your mood back to normal. “Hi!”

“Hey!” You beam a smile his way before walking up next to your sibling.

Holy hell, it’s taking everything in you to not look at the orange-haired demon beside him as you hand out the bottles, feeling everyone’s sun-drenched skin radiating heat in waves. “How long have you been here without a ball?”

“Not long. Someone just brought a flat one,” the same fiend cuts in with a drone before anyone else can answer. His eyes are aimed straight at your brother, so yours follow, filled with disappointment.

“Wow. I even explained myself?”

“You did,” Jimin responds immediately. “But it’s still your fault.”

You laugh before checking your phone, and your sibling and Yoongi use that time to take the ball from Jimin before heading to the closer basket.

Damn. As much as you want to watch Yoongi in his element, you still need to get back home and drive to the theatre. Sighing, you state, “Well, I should head out.”

“You aren’t gonna stay?”

Your head and two others turn Jimin’s way, and you falter before explaining, eyes snapping to Yoongi for a brief moment, “Didn’t plan on it. I’m seeing a movie.”

“Oh, yeah! Taehyung told me about that.” He checks his watch before adorning a playful expression, shamelessly running his gaze along your body before providing an excuse,

“You have time. Just tell him to meet you here.”

Ah, fuck. Your brother is already piercing Jimin with suspicion. You hate when he gets this way so quickly.

But, the flirt technically gave you another chance to do what you wanted in the first place. If anything, this would make your intentions a lot more subtle. “Umm… I guess I could.”

“Yay! Watch me win.”

“No chance.”

Suddenly, someone is next to you picking up a bottle resting by your feet, and you don’t need to look to see who it is—the visceral reaction you have to their presence is enough to clue you in. How that’s possible, you have no fucking clue.

When did Yoongi even leave his bottle there? And did he leave it on purpose? From what you saw during a quick scan of the court, his stuff is resting on the bleachers…

Your heart flutters while Jimin answers with mirth. “Is that so?”

Yoongi only raises his eyebrows in response, mouth occupied with the water already.

Goddamn it, you can’t look at him for too long, if at all right now. You think you would’ve been able to handle the same Yoongi since that’s what you were expecting. But this? This Yoongi with hair so loud that it’s creating another layer of confidence around him that you’re even more drawn to? Fucking hell, you may just turn down Jimin’s offer.

But the man refocuses on you while grinning, tilting his head Yoongi’s way. “He’s always acting tough, isn’t he?”

“Seems so,” you quickly agree, and you hear a brief snort on your side.

And neither of them make any move to leave.

But the stalemate ceases in an instant. There’s a clunk of a ball hitting a rim before your brother shouts, “Hey! Hurry the hell up!”

“Kay!”

Jimin jogs away with a smile, but while Yoongi follows suit, you blurt,

“I like it.”

He turns.

“The hair.”

And he just smirks at you before shooting a wink, and your body almost breaks into pieces as you make your way to the bleachers.

Finding a random spot on the third to bottom row, you immediately check your phone to make your eyes focus on anything else. Besides, you need to text Taehyung and let him know about Jimin’s derailing of your plans. You’ll take any distraction you can get.

Your ride’s reply comes seconds later.

Taeee😪 [7:20pm]: I am going to fight him 😐

Taeee😪 [7:20pm]: See you there.

As you’re cycling through apps, you start to hear a bunch of other voices, so you lift your head to take in the crowd coming in. You’ve seen some of them around but a lot of them are guys you haven’t seen before. Must just be the changes of the neighborhood since you last lived here.

Yoongi is back to his smug ways on the court, eyebrow quirking before he easily cuts through defenders to score. If he doesn’t take shots himself, the passes he makes to your brother and Jimin leave his hands just as smoothly, some of them sick enough to get people on the sidelines to react.

During the time you wait for Taehyung, more things happen. More people start filing in, the lights get flickered on when it starts to get dark, and a stray ball that bounces right towards you hits the front of the bleachers before Yoongi quickly follows—the expression he discreetly aims your way enough to send your inappropriate thoughts into overdrive.

You haven’t felt this drawn to a sport in your entire goddamn life.

Of course, it’s more the player than anything else. The way he laughs while pointing at fuck-ups, the times he wipes his forehead with the top of his shirt, and hell, even the way he plants his hands on his knees. Everything is normally so mundane if done by anyone else. But when Yoongi does them? You find yourself clenching your thighs together and trying to calm your erratic heart rate.

He looks like he’s genuinely having fun.

You love that.

And the game goes on, with your brother and them winning and sweating through their shirts. But when it’s abruptly interrupted, the shouts you hear on the court are from randoms you don’t know.

“That was out.”

“What? Motherfucker, no it wasn’t?”

“I saw you step out!”

“You’re lying.”

Finally, Yoongi cuts in, seemingly impatient and wanting things to keep moving. “Just shoot for it.”

He’s quickly overshadowed by the others again.

“I’m not shooting for that. It’s still our ball.”

“Stop holding up the game, bro. Shoot for it.”

“No! No.”

It seems that this conversation will keep going. Because men. And pride.

You feel eyes on you while this exchange is happening and, while you think it’s Taehyung finally arriving, they’re actually coming from some guys on the other side of the court—the side that everyone stopped on. They’re talking amongst themselves, and who knows what the hell they’re saying.

Ugh.

Just focus on the game. You didn’t expect this much attention just sitting on the sidelines.

As you plant your feet on the riser below you, you’re just wondering if they know about your older sibling.

Because if they don’t stop being so obvious, they’re about to.

The conversation is still happening about whose ball it is, and you see Yoongi walk up to the same group of people and say something before lifting his thumb back to the court.

When one of the guys nods to him and joins the game, he gives a look to your brother before lazily walking… Your way?

What’s he doing?

Oh, yes. His stuff is on one side of the bleachers. Maybe he’s getting water.

But wait. Why did he get someone to play for him? Why is he settling on the bottom bench, leaning back so that one of his elbows lies next to your shoes?

Your heart is racing as much as the drops of sweat running down his neck.

Holy fuck, he looks good.

“You okay?” You ask downward, taking in his drenched hair and heaving chest.

A thought occurs to you then. A truth so exhilarating that you might burst if you don’t keep yourself in check.

You get to see him tomorrow.

You don’t know what to do.

Yoongi wipes his neck while watching the game finally start back up again. When he answers, his voice is so low that you lean down a bit to hear. “Oh, yeah. Just tired.”

He certainly doesn’t look tired. A little winded, sure, but not tired.

“Ah, I see,” you respond, planting your hands outside of your thighs. “You got a lot better.”

He turns his head to look up at you. “You think so?”

And you want to tell him something else, but all that comes out of your mouth is, “Mmhmm.”

A corner of his mouth lifts before he shifts his attention back to the court. “Thanks. We started playing in a league so. Been playing a lot more recently. Damn rusty, though.”

Oh. You already know about the league because your brother mentioned it before, but… What is this feeling you have? Hearing just a sliver of Yoongi’s life outside of where you normally see him? You’re amazed he even said something. Truthfully, it’s also a bit shocking that it slipped out of his mouth so easily.

Maybe it’s from adrenaline. You have seen people be a lot more chatty during games and today is obviously no different.

“I heard about the team! I didn’t know you were on it.”

A nod.

Grinning, you add, “Now I really won’t come to games.”

Yoongi’s shoulders bob a bit and, though you can’t directly see his expression from where you’re sitting, his lifted cheekbone is enough of a hint that he’s highly amused.

Fuck.

You really want to jump his damn bones.

A scary follow-up thought spears your brain: what if you actually don’t see him tomorrow? Like your brother just said: his phone’s been blowing up. What does that mean for you? Does Yoongi even still remember?

Shit shit shit.

You need to confirm now while the both of you are a ways from anyone else.

“Yoo—”

“Hey!”

Both you and the man below you snap your heads to the sound, watching as Taehyung walks along the concrete sideline before hopping one foot onto your bleacher. As the metal clang rings in your ears, you offer a smile.

“Hey, Tae,” you greet as Yoongi lifts himself into a sitting position, slightly put out that your confirmation with him was interrupted. “Took you awhile.”

His affronted expression is priceless. “I’m sorry. I was told to make a detour before even getting up! What’s up, Yoong.”

“Sup.”

You groan. “Your plans weren’t the only ones changed. I had to get these dummies a ball.”

“Leave me outta this.”

“Says the basketball player without a pump in his car.”

Yoongi briefly tosses you a grin and scrunched nose over his shoulder, and you feel another skip of your heartbeat, wondering how long it will take until this man ends you completely.

Taehyung’s voice starts out slow as he continues, “Well, if you’re ready, we can go.”

“Yeah!” you chirp, not ready to leave Yoongi looking like that at all. “Let’s go.”

As your shoes clunk along the bleachers before you step onto solid ground, you shoot him a smile over your shoulder. “Bye, Yoongi.”

“See ya,” he responds before his eyes flicker to your feet and back up again.

Suddenly incredibly shy, you clear your throat before walking in stride with Taehyung, waving goodbye to your brother and Jimin.

When you head out shortly after, you turn back one more time.

And suck in a breath.

Because Yoongi’s already turned away, drinking from his bottle while aiming a look to the other side of the court.

As you settle into Taehyung’s car, you spew some much needed venting about work and how everything is just inherently unfair.

“You need to find something else, bro,” he sighs while starting the engine. “I keep telling you. You’re too smart for that place.”

“I’m looking, I’m looking,” you sigh, knowing that you can’t refute anything he’s saying. The only issue is that you want to find a career instead of a job, and the only options you’ve come across since graduating are the latter.

It could also be because you’re picky. But that’s besides the point.

While Taehyung starts to list some options—one of them definitely a joke but still making you embarrassed—you feel a vibration in your lap. Picking up your device, you see who’s on the lock screen and unlock it as quickly as you can.

Yoongi [7:56pm]: Thanks for the water :)

It’s such a simple message. Harmless, too. But you still can’t help your face from heating and your fingers from squeezing your phone a little tighter.

An old, mellow song fills the car while you type your reply.

You [7:58pm]: You’re welcome !

And the second one you send is made purely out of your own impatience to see him again.

You [7:58pm]: I wish I could’ve stayed…

After it slips into the thread, you wonder if you crossed a line before saying screw it altogether. Your brother and Jimin are most likely still on the court anyways, and it’s definitely not a lie. Maybe you’re gauging if he feels the same?

Or do you just hope that he responds to your texts out of the many messages he’s been receiving lately? God, that’s so lame, but it would at least help ease your mind if he did.

Then again, he did text you first… But maybe that was—

“What was that all about?”

A quick cough leaves your mouth before you brace your chest, hitting it twice. Fuck, you completely forgot you aren’t alone! Clearing the shame from your throat, you decide to tell part of the truth. “Oh. Yoongi just said thank you for the water.”

Tae just lifts a brow along with his lips. “Mm.”

“What?”

He slowly slides his eyes your way, checking his mirror on your side before making a turn. You feel tingles along your spine when he airily responds, “I won’t tell.”

“Tell what?”

Taehyung gives you a look before droning, “Really.”

“I’m not—Whatever you’ve got in that head of yours, it is incorrect.”

“Uh huh. So the two of you aren’t fucking?”

Your jaw drops to your thighs. “We aren’t!”

“Mm. But you plan on it.”

What the fuck! How does he know?

“Tae!”

“Next time,” your scarily accurate friend advises, “Don’t make it so obvious. He checks you out all the time but, if you do the same, then people’ll talk.” When he gives your outfit a once-over, you shrivel up at his smirk. “This makes sense now.”

“He… I…”

Well then. You didn’t know Yoongi regarded you like that enough for others to notice. Then again, Taehyung is the most intuitive out of your friends. If anyone was going to suspect anything miles ahead of everyone else, it would be him.

He simply smiles and shakes his head. “Don’t worry. I won’t pry.”

Come to think of it, you didn’t exactly tell anyone all the details about that day. Sure, you’ve mentioned to your girlfriends that something happened—they picked up on your glow even days afterwards, so you had to spill.

But you didn’t dare mention a name. Not even a description, as much as they hounded you to describe his dick.

In this case, however… Taehyung seems to be convinced that he’s right already.

And he is.

So maybe you can actually admit what the hell happened to someone. The truth. It can finally leave the walls of your chest and take temporary rest in someone else’s, and possibly make your steps a bit lighter in the process.

You take a deep breath.

“We did. Once.”

Taehyung immediately slaps his steering wheel, triumphant and making you flinch. “Hah! I knew it! Wait, only once?”

The scenery outside your window is suddenly super interesting. “Yeah.”

“…When?”

“Last summer.”

One song changes to another as your friend pauses. “Oh, damn. I didn’t peg you as the one and done type.”

“Nah. It wasn’t like that,” you sigh. Reminiscent of what that day truly meant to you, you allow a fond smile to grace your face. “It was actually really nice.”

An even longer pause takes place, but you’re too busy replaying the events while watching buildings and cars and lights flash by. With the soft music accompanying, you’re briefly content and simply someone along for a night ride.

But Tae’s inquisitive hum pulls you back in.

Turning to him, you question, “What?”

The man is contemplative, and it looks like he’s gauging whether to say what he wants to or not. But you wait—like you always do—because you can’t budge the sudden fear in your gut.

Finally, he speaks, “You know how he is, yeah? Never leaving parties or whatever alone?”

“…Yeah.”

“I started noticing something off but.. I never knew what it was. And Jimin didn’t know, either. Which was even weirder.”

“Uh huh… And?”

“I dunno. He just started checking out early. Like he would just dip or. Check his phone then bounce.” Taehyung flicks his turn signal on shortly before changing lanes. “I thought he actually had a regular or something. And after your little freak-out—which was cute, by the way—I thought it could’ve been you.”

Your heart plummets. “Oh… It’s not.”

“Mm.”

Goddamn it. First the phone situation with him and now this. Of course you know Yoongi is the type of guy you can expect this from, but… Shit. You feel like an idiot right now for thinking something would be different in your case.

May as well get some questions out of the way. If this thing you planned happens at all, you need to be prepared. Licking your lips, you point out the obvious with a sigh, “You’ve been around him more than I have.”

“Yeah.”

“Does he… Hmm.”

“What?”

Shaking your head, you both like how you can talk about this with someone and also dread the answer you’ll receive. “You think he’s the type to kick people out? After… You know?”

Tae aims a sly grin your way. “Is that what he did to you?”

You reach over to playfully tug on his sleeve before scoffing, “No!” But after thinking about it, technically Yoongi did send you off, but the circumstances called for it. “I mean. That was different.”

And your friend hums, unconvinced. “But yeah, from what I’ve heard, that’s usually what happens. At least, if they end up at his place. Pretty quick, too.”

“Ah,” you respond, heart bleeding.

“Why? You really are planning on fucking, huh?”

“Tae!”

“Just because I’m right about your upcoming appointme—”

“It’s nothing like that!”

“Uh huh. And you’re just gonna be sitting on your single ass once your brother leaves.”

Fuck. He’s got you completely had and you barely said a thing.

You definitely need to be more discreet. It’s fine if Taehyung is the only one that knows, but if other people do? There’s no way it can be kept from your brother then. And that will turn out fine for no one.

Your silence draws itself out long enough for Tae to say with slight pity, “You’re lucky I like listening instead of talking.”

“I dunno,” you bite. “You’re being awfully fucking chatty tonight.”

The laugh that erupts is completely Taehyung, his head throwing back a bit in the process. It’s enough to pull one side of your mouth up.

You’re fine. You know you can trust him. And you were right: you do feel a bit lighter now that the truth exists past your heart and Yoongi’s place.

“Just be careful with that one, okay? You know how he is. Just like your brother: doesn’t do relationships and all that.”

With a slow nod, you’re back to looking out the window, hiding the cracks in your visage. “I know.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“No.”

“Mm.”

Fuck. The feeling is back. The dark, simmering feeling that you’ve made a mistake is stewing, and you need to try your hardest to not let it consume you.

But this is incredibly difficult to do once you see that you were left on Read.

The movie crawled by, a temporary distraction from your thoughts.

It would’ve done a better job if it wasn’t so shitty, though. Both you and Taehyung now stomp out of the theatre, pissed and cursing the people that recommended it.

“That had to be a prank,” you surmise, disgruntled and fishing out your phone before you even get to the exit doors.

“Pranks I can respect. But if that was actually something they liked? I am blocking them.”

Amusement bubbles from your throat. “Tae! Those are your friends. We do not block friends.”

“We do if they have shitty taste in movies.”

When you both cross the entryway of the building, your miffed companion spots the ticket booth. Determined, he proclaims, “Hold on. I’m getting our money back.”

“Wow,” you laugh. “Good luck! I’ll be here.”

It’s after you watch his taut strides that you finally unlock your phone to see any notifications.

Some group chats, some emails, other random apps.

But of course, your finger zeroes in on the one that has your heart beating again. A notification you wanted but didn’t expect to get.

Yoongi [9:52pm]: You missed out. I put on a show

You berate yourself for smiling at his overflow of confidence. But you’re also relieved as hell that he even responded in general. Maybe things aren’t as awful as you’re creating them in your mind.

Hell, he could’ve been playing that whole time!

You need to chill the hell out. Stop worrying. Just go with the flow of things.

You [10:01pm]: Just got out of the movie !! And I knew you would.

Surprisingly, he responds quick.

Yoongi [10:02pm]: How’d it go?

You [10:02pm]: Boring af. Tae’s trying to get our money back.

Yoongi [10:03pm]: Damn. Sorry :(

When you look up, you see Taehyung sauntering back, knowing he was successful one way or another.

Smiling, you observe, “I see we got what we wanted?”

“Yup! But also…” He wiggles his phone.

“Oh, my god. You got their number?”

Taehyung beams a wide smile your way before you both leave the theatre. “And a free movie date.”

Your eyes roll heavenward. “I dunno how you do it.”

“Easy,” he puffs. “Confidence.”

“That’s it?”

“Ah, no. Confidence, and saying what you want.”

You level your eyes with his. “It can’t be that simple.”

“Try it, babe. I promise it works.”

The car ride is more animated this time as you both rant about the film and ones that are scarily similar and equally terrible.

As you look at your phone, you see that Yoongi actually texted you again, so you rush to answer—not without getting a chuckle from Taehyung.

Yoongi [10:06pm]: What’s next?

You [10:20pm]: HOME

You [10:21pm]: Work early tomorrow. I shouldn’t have gone out tonight tbh

It’s not until Taehyung drops you off at your house and you’re heading to your room that you get a reply.

Yoongi [10:38pm]: Fuckin saaame. I’m passing tf out soon

Interesting, given it’s a Thursday night. Which part is he agreeing with? Work? Not going out? Both?

What could it mean if he agreed to either one? Maybe he is with his regular—if that’s even a thing?

Fuck! Stop thinking about any of this. This whole chilling out thing is clearly not working for you and you’re pretty sure stress is digging trenches in your forehead.

Sighing, you set your bag down in your desk chair before deciding on a neutral reply, hating how you’re putting up a front.

You [10:40pm]: Okayyy gn!!

Yoongi [10:42pm]: gn :)

It’s after you get his reply that you realize: you went the entire day without a clear confirmation on tomorrow.

And no matter what you try, your thoughts and worries still plague you well into the early, pink and yellow hues of the next morning.

“You got everything?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Okay. Because last time—”

“Relax. I checked.”

“Okay. How long are you out this time?”

“A whole goddamn week,” your brother grunts as he rolls his suitcase past the front door. “But the hotel is apparently fucking sick so. Whatever.”

“Nice.”

“You sure you’re good?”

“Me? A functioning adult? Hardly.”

He shakes his head. “Well, you better ring me up if something happens. Or Yoongi.”

You still your hand on its way to the doorknob. “Oh. Yeah, okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

“Cool.” He pats your head before he turns to his ride. “See ya.”

“See ya.”

You [8:32am]: Hey ! I’ll be free after work. Are we still..?

Staring at your phone four hours after you sent Yoongi that text, you deflate before moving on with your work day.

While it’s true that both of you decided on today, that’s the last you heard of it and it’s been days since then. Weeks.

It was only after hours of back and forths with yourself that you decided to finally send him a confirmation text. But the fact that he hasn’t said anything yet—or even read it—makes a bit of squirming happen under your skin.

Your thoughts mirror what you thought about on the basketball court: does Yoongi even remember?

Does he even still care?

Going through the motions of your day, you feel your hopes dwindle by the second, wondering if you’ll even make it to the end of your shift.

But when you finally get a response, you quickly decide that no, you won’t.

Because the text you receive is enough to make your heartbeat skip thrice.

Yoongi [2:02pm]: 🍊🍊🍊 :)

Fuck. Fuck, it’s happening.

The whole day at work after that seems to go terribly, awfully slow. Like some random entity bends time just for you because it knows you’re looking forward to something.

But when you finally leave and practically bounce all the way to your car, you shoot a quick text before getting inside.

You [5:42pm]: I’m out ! Just lemme know.

Again, you get silence. Then a read receipt after a little bit, and then finally, an answer that isn’t half as good as the first one.

Yoongi [6:11pm]: Shit ok. I’ll be out until late ):

Damn. Well, you can still use this time to relax and calm the bottled up anxiousness you feel in your body. How to busy yourself until then? How to distract yourself from thinking about worst case scenarios?

Finding things to do, the final plan involves showering before getting ready, then blanking out on your phone while a show you’ve seen before plays in the background. Done.

It takes a bit for you to choose a playlist before getting under running water, but when you do, you let the hot stream coat you as your thoughts run rampant.

Yoongi and you never said what exactly would happen. All you said was you would go see him, and tonight was the night. Of course, the both of you definitely have one thing in mind, but… You don’t exactly have a plan outside of that.

Not that it matters. After all, your conversation with Taehyung in his car confirmed that Yoongi doesn’t really leave room for anything afterwards anyway.

Shit, do you even need to pack anything? Bring anything? Or will this whole thing that you’ve been stressing over for days just last for an hour tops?

Your sigh mingles with the shower steam.

Relax.

Bottom line: it’s happening.

“But I miss you, too.”

You lean against the wall, folding your arms and smiling wide.

After you freshen up and get yourself all ready, you settle into a couch in your living room, knowing you’ll fall asleep if you choose your bed instead.

Your phone occupies most of your time, and you periodically check Yoongi’s thread—as if you don’t get notifications for messages.

But after awhile, the mountain of stress from today and your growing pile of worries weigh down your eyes, and you can’t help but succumb to the sofa after all.

Oh, shit.

You knocked out. What time is it?

Blinking fast, you groggily check your phone.

10:50pm

Yoongi: 1 Missed Call

“Fuck!” You scramble to click the notification, sitting up and feeling a bit disoriented.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

When did you fall asleep? How long has it been? Did he just end up making other plans?

“Hey.”

Your breath stutters. “I am so sorry! Fuck, I fell asleep.”

“S’okay.”

A pause.

Nothing else from him?

“How… How was your day?”

There’s a brief, soft noise on the other line. But you can’t tell what the hell it is. Was it a laugh? A snort? It sounds like he’s in his car, so maybe a random sound?

“It was fine.”

You blink.

Something’s off.

You have no damn clue why, but this isn’t the Yoongi you’re used to. He sounds so unlike himself that you’re starting to get worried.

But is it okay to ask him what’s wrong? He certainly asks you all the time.

However, for some reason, you can’t. Maybe you don’t think it’s your space to pry.

So you try to make the situation light. “At least your day is done! Tomorrow will be fun, right?”

A long exhale crackles through the line, and you feel yourself crumbling when he responds.

“Same shit tomorrow, too.”

“Oh,” you whoosh out, feeling your plans slip through your fingers and pricking them on the way down. “I see.”

You’re silent after that, wallowing in your sudden sadness that your tomorrow isn’t looking as bright as you imagined. What was that about assuming disappointment again? Fuck, you should’ve done it this time.

“Sorry.”

Your heart lurches at his gravelly tone, and emotions clash inside your stomach, quickly turning it into a pit of turmoil. “No, no!” you blurt out, hoping he didn’t hear the heaviness you feel. “It’s okay. Things happen.”

You hear another sigh, but it seems forced.

And you don’t know what to do, how to react. There’s definitely something up and you have no idea how to approach this. To notice his blasé demeanor suddenly do a one-eighty is a bit jarring.

“It’s okay, Yoongi,” you finally decide to say, whispering. “If you’re busy—”

“I’m not busy right now.”

A car door thumps shut on the line, both that sudden sound and his quick reply rendering you speechless.

“Oh. Okay.”

What in the hell is happening? If you were a betting person, you would think he’s… upset. Distancing himself. You don’t think you’ve breathed ever since he answered the call.

So you just wait. Wait and wait and wait for him to hang up so that you can sit and think about this deep pit of emotions you dug for yourself.

But Yoongi doesn’t end the call. Not even after an entire minute of silence.

Your worries start to deepen. What the fuck is going on? Why did he even answer if—

“Open the door, doll.”

What?

A quick exhale leaves your mouth as you swerve your head towards the front. “The door? My door?”

A small breath can be heard on his end before you get a very, very tired-sounding,

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Shit,” you rush out, shooting up from your spot. “Okay, hold on.”

The call ends while you’re making a beeline for the entrance.

Your feet pad with loud slaps the whole way there, and you really don’t know what’s happening or what you’re gonna do once you open the door. As you get to the opening, you stop and take a breath before undoing the locks.

And though Yoongi’s head is slightly hung, his eyes are already trained on you when you slowly reveal your anxious expression.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

You let him in and take in his heavy strides, shutting the door as if you don’t want your own house to know your secret. “I thought you were going home.”

“I was.”

Suddenly remembering what time it is, you blurt, “No one saw you, did they?”

Yoongi shakes his head, eyes aimed away from where you stand. “Everyone‘s out.”

“Okay…”

You remain planted a few steps away from him, not knowing what to do but wanting to do anything to wipe the expression off of Yoongi’s face. To clear the bags from under his eyes and the slight pinch in his brow. But you’re so shaken by the whole string of events that somehow led him here.

What the hell is going on? Where is the Yoongi that you know?

No. What you’re used to doesn’t matter right now. What you think you’re worried about doesn’t matter now, either. All you want to focus on is lifting his mood, so you launch yourself towards the kitchen and offer multiple things,

“Have you eaten? Do you want anything? I can make something or find a snack. We don’t have much but—”

Your arm is suddenly tugged backwards, and you don’t know what’s happening until your chest is crushed into the front of Yoongi’s hoodie.

Snapping your eyes to his face, you flicker them between his and start to ask what that was for, but he’s already putting your head back against him.

And it’s silent.

Only the beat of his heart pulses in your ear.

Embarrassed because you’re entirely sure he can feel your much quicker one, you bring your hands up to grip his jacket, burrowing your face into soft material that smells like comfort and him.

And as soon as you do, you feel at peace. Time bends in another way and, this time, you revel in the slower passing.

There are no thoughts, no worries, no others around. Just darkness and his scent and his warmth around your back.

You feel his chest rumble when he asks a question, and his voice is so incredibly low that you have to pull away.

“Hmm?”

Yoongi just watches your face when he responds, exhausted, and you feel your heart skip once again.

“Please lemme kiss you.”

The first thing you feel is confusion. And the second is something terribly similar. But you say nothing as you see the look in his eyes—eyes that are just a shade darker than you remember.

So you nod.

And kiss you he does, lips softly pressing into yours and lifting your soul off the ground. It’s not rushed, not imposing; rather, it’s a soft flame that slowly warms you through.

Your eyes close shortly before it ends. Because though it isn’t rushed, it is still chaste, and you’re already pulling away.

It is now that you search his eyes, noticing more weariness and something else in their depths. The more you rest in silence, the more you want—

To be kissed again and exactly how he’s doing now, crushing his lips against yours and sending lightning down to your toes. This kiss is much deeper, much fuller, tugging your heart to the front of your chest with force.

Your hands clamp impossibly tight around the material of his hoodie, gripping it and pulling him in a fraction. The grunt you get in return ignites something in your lower belly, only to be followed up with him twisting you to shove against the nearest wall.

Everything bursts into overdrive as you moan into his mouth, hearing one of his hands thump the wall next to you. The way he thrusts himself flush against you sends your mind in a frenzy, and your hands abandon his hoodie to sling around his neck instead.

Fuck, you needed this. All the stolen glances and kisses up to this point have been driving you up multiple walls, and you have been craving this feeling for months. This intensity.

The way he exhales from his nose, the way his hand never lets up on your hip, the way he chuckles when you reach for the bottom of his hoodie—everything he’s doing now is the Yoongi you finally know. He’s back with a vengeance and you want him to unleash it all on you.

You’re about to fling caution to the wind and yank him to your room when he suddenly, calmly, annoyingly halts your movements.

With eyes aimed straight at his face, you wordlessly ask what he’s doing—and also plead him to keep going.

And Yoongi looks at you before rubbing your cheek. Murmuring, he clarifies with a low tone, “That wasn’t what I came for, doll.”

“Then… Then what?”

He just smiles a bit, eyes lidded and drooping. “I just wanted to see you real quick.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah.”

Forgetting everything that you just spoke about with Taehyung, you offer, “I can come over.”

Yoongi shakes his head, swiftly reminding you what you stupidly needed to remember. “I’ll be out tomorrow, too.”

“Oh.”

“And I don’t wanna keep you if you got plans.”

“I mean… I guess. I kinda cleared my plans for… This.”

Yoongi rests his arms around your waist. “I tried, too. But I can’t flake on this. My bad.”

“Are you kidding? It’s fine, really. Do your stuff,” you offer as if he isn’t going to anyway. Fuck, you feel dumb.

But Yoongi seems set on his decision. Who are you to make him change it? Besides, you can get some errands done. Listen to Taehyung and look for some real jobs. Folding your lips together, you hang your head in disappointment. “I just…”

“I know.”

“It’s been forever.”

“I know.”

Tilting your eyes back to his face, you ask, voice small, “I’m not… I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?”

Yoongi roves his eyes over your features, and his silence is weighing you down with every passing nanosecond. “Say what you mean.”

Determined to keep it a secret, you lie, “That is what I mean.”

He doesn’t believe you. But he answers, “No.”

“Okay.”

Cupping your chin, Yoongi rubs your face with a rough thumb. “And listen. If you got something on your mind, tell me. Ask me. You may not always like the answer, but I’ll always be honest.” He then steps away, and the breaths you’ve been harboring finally leave you in a rush. He yawns behind a fist before blinking hard. “You’re the one that fucking called me out on it.”

No no no. This is too soon. You don’t want him to go. “Then can I ask something else?”

Yoongi has a mix of curiosity and trepidation on his face. He brings you in again and waits. “Hit me.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

Surprise shoots from his nose, and he smiles wide, aiming his laugh away from you. “That’s not fair.”

“Uh uh! You said I just have to ask.”

“Too damn quick. Maybe you’re hustling me here, too.”

“You’re stalling.”

Yoongi grins even wider and softly kisses your forehead, eyes closed. “This isn’t good for me.”

“Yoongi!”

“Okay, okay,” he relents through another yawn. “…Yeah.”

“Then I’m coming over.”

“Hold up, I didn’t say—”

“It’s decided! I’m getting my stuff.” You head to your room and you hear Yoongi’s amusement follow your strides, and it isn’t until you get there that you realize you’re both very alone in your house. Like you wanted him to be that night on the phone. Like you want it to be all the time.

You grab your bag, wondering if you should pack a toothbrush and a change of clothes—

“Mm. Cute.”

You shoot up from your hunched position. “Fuck!” Shaking your head, you sigh at the relaxed presence filling your doorframe, “I didn’t even hear you.”

He pops his eyebrows up. “‘Cus you’re so loud.”

“And?” You watch him lean against the panel of your door, and it brings you back to when you first went to his place, drenched in rainwater and jitters. His hair is brighter this time, but his features are much more cloudy, and you can’t help but feel like his day was long. Maybe even longer than yours.

What can possibly be happening?

Noticing his eyes slipping shut, you quickly offer, “Hey. You can sit at the desk. Just no judging.”

“I said it was cute.” He pushes off of your doorframe and inspects the space in earnest, dumping himself in your desk chair that’s seen many, many days of studying.

As you’re getting your stuff ready, you remember the times you’ve seen or heard Yoongi walk past your room while in that same seat. You remember how you couldn’t help but glance at him every time, curling your toes or folding your lips together on instinct.

To go from that to what’s happening now, you smile ruefully at the change.

A soft sound brushes your ear when you have the final item stuffed in your pack. Turning, you realize that Yoongi’s already asleep in your chair, head propped on a sleeved arm.

Blinking, you feel things clicking into place: the weary call, the tired eyes, the goddamn yawning. Why didn’t you pick up on something so glaringly obvious? Idiot!

But another thing clicks into place.

His car is outside.

Shit, if anyone sees it out front and knows your brother isn’t here, the rest of the puzzle connects itself.

Your packed bag is abandoned as you make your way over to him, deciding that this can go one of two ways. Slowly shaking his shoulder, you whisper his name.

“Mm.”

“Would you rather sleep here for a bit? Or have me drive?”

A quick quirk of his mouth precedes a sleepy, “S’okay. I can drive back.”

Absolutely not. “I won’t let you. Pick one.”

“Mmph.”

You immediately pick for him. “Lemme have your keys.”

Another sleepy huff of amusement expels from his lips. “So bossy.”

“Deal with it.”

He breathes deep before answering, “Pocket.”

After checking both his hoodie pockets, you fish them out, softly guiding him up from your chair. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Huh.

If you aren’t mistaken, you’re pretty sure Yoongi just pouted.

And you believe it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

Even throughout the whole stilted walk to his car, on the way to his place, and guiding him all the way to his room, it’s legitimately the only thing you can think about. And you think you would do anything to see it again.

“Sleep well, Yoongi,” you whisper as you leave him on his bed. A bed you want to occupy but know you can’t. “Sorry I kept you up.”

In hindsight, you could’ve taken his couch.

But as you get woken up by vibrations in your own bed, you reason that you made the right decision to get a paid ride back home. You have no idea what Yoongi’s day entails, so it’s better to give him that space.

Listen to Taehyung. You gotta be careful. Don’t allow yourself to get too attached to someone that doesn’t have the word relationship in their vocabulary.

It’s during the fourth vibration that you realize that you’re getting a call, and you shoot your hand out over your nightstand to check the ID.

Yoongi: Incoming Call

“Hey,” you rasp after a moment of panic, cradling your phone to an upturned ear.

“Hey. Did you drive me home?”

Fuck, his voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. “Mmhmm.”

“What the fuck. I don’t remember shit.”

“It’s okay.” You breathe through your nose as your eyes slip back shut. “You were exhausted.”

“Apparently. How did you get back?”

You sleepily rub your eyes, feeling a bit teasing this morning. “I walked.”

“What? You fuckin’ serious?”

“Yoongi, no,” you giggle. “I got a ride.”

After prolonged silence on the line, you wonder what could be going through his head. Did you mess up by driving him back? You don’t think so, but it could’ve crossed a line anyways. “Sorry if you didn’t want me driving your car.”

“Nah. I was gonna say thanks.”

“Oh.”

You hear a shuffling of activity and a slight jangling of keys.

“Did you really clear your day?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn. Sorry.”

“S’ok,” you say through a yawn. “Maybe I’ll actually job hunt now.”

“In person?“

A soft laugh puffs out of your mouth. “No, old man. On my laptop.”

“Mm. So that’s all?”

“I guess so. Hate to break it to you but I’m kinda boring.”

Yoongi’s snort is enough to make you smile.

“Not at all.”

“Maybe I can try a new boba place.”

“Do that. Do shit you want today.”

“I wanted to see you,” you whisper, the warmth from your blankets comfortable yet still no match for his embrace.

After a few seconds, you realize, “Well, I guess I technically did already.” This early revelation causes you to sleepily huff in triumph. “So. Win.”

You hear a faint chuckle in tandem with a door shut.

“So cute.”

“Nu uh.”

“Uh huh.”

You shut your eyes, feeling dreamland’s approach again. Yoongi’s saying something on the other line, but his words barely register in your current state.

“I can’t make any promises, doll.”

“Mm.”

“But I’ll make it up to you regardless.”

Afternoon sees the beginning of your day, your legs finally leaving the warmth of your sheets hours after your call.

With dread, you know today will crawl, which won’t fare well for someone in your position—someone that cleared their entire schedule for plans that didn’t come to fruition.

After you venture to your kitchen, you lean on your island and wonder what the hell to do.

What you should do and what you want to do are two completely different things. You should be job hunting like you mentioned to Yoongi, but why would you do something so soul-crushing on a Saturday? On a day that you were supposed to—supposedly—spend with him?

Eventually, you do end up trying that new boba place you heard about from one of your friends, meeting them for a few hours before seeing if Taehyung wanted to have a redemption movie date.

“Aren’t you supposed to be—”

“He’s busy, Tae,” you rush out before he can finish whatever the hell he was going to say. From your spot in the parking lot, you watch cars roll by and people amble the surrounding sidewalks with plastic cups and large straws.

“Doing what?”

“I dunno.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? He didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“That’s sus. I’m sorry.”

“Well,” you purse your lips while absentmindedly playing with your steering wheel. “I didn’t exactly ask, either.”

“Huh?”

God. You can picture the exact expression he has on his face right now.

“You are hopeless.”

“It just seems weird to ask!”

“Why?”

“We don’t know each other like that. I can’t bring myself to ask him any personal shit.”

“You can’t ask him about it? Or you don’t wanna know?”

You freeze, staring at your dashboard like you’ve just been caught. “Damn. Maybe.”

“Well. As long as you know what you’re doing.”

“Tae, I never know what I’m doing.”

“Lies.”

You start to inspect your recently manicured nails before tsking. “Well, if we aren’t gonna do the movie thing, I’ll figure something else out.”

“Yeah, we can. Just gotta be done by nine. I got that date tonight.”

“If only both of us were that lucky.”

“If you actually listened to me, maybe we would be.”

This time, the movie was a much more successful distraction from your thoughts. Taehyung kept his earlier promise of not prying, and the two of you instead had a film to praise instead of critique to the ground.

In fact, you were so into the whole thing that you completely missed an update from him.

Yoongi [7:20pm]: Free soon

Soon? Rechecking the time, you realize that it has been a long ass time since then. Weird.

Walking to your car, you slip a message into the thread before getting inside.

You [8:50pm]: Still busy?

He texts back a few minutes later. But that was three of the longest minutes of your life.

Yoongi [8:53pm]: Yeah

Worry eats away at you, and a million and one possibilities race through your mind, each one vying to be first to conclusions. Pulling into the street, you hope they all lose.

Fuck. You hate this feeling and you hate that you can’t bring yourself to fix it. Why can’t you be like Taehyung and just ask? Sure, getting money back is much different than dealing with Yoongi, but. Are you really that scared of what his answers to your questions would be? What exactly makes this so hard even though you know what he’s like?

Is it because, for a brief moment on that phone call weeks ago, that you felt special? Like you meant something to him?

As you fill your entryway with your dark cloud, you sigh. Grappling with all of your worries at once is incredibly draining and yet, you can’t do the one thing that would take care of most of them.

You want to believe that he’s legitimately busy. You need to. Goddamn, you’re an adult and so is he.

And if he’s actually with someone else and not telling you? Fuck him. Even if he’s Min Yoongi, you cannot let a guy give you this much grief.

Dumping yourself on your couch, you bury your face in the crook of your arm—mad with him, the world, but mostly yourself.

You wanna travel back in time.

Not too far. Just to the moment you both existed on the bleachers on that basketball court, before you were faced with the prospect of being just someone else he had on his schedule.

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Fuck, you answered faster than you could even process.

“Hi—”

“I hate when people can’t do their job.”

Holy crap. That came out of nowhere. Immediately, you’re sitting up. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Exasperation blows through the line.

“Long story. But I’m finally off. You want anything?”

Motherfucker.

Finally off. He was working.

What the fuck. Why the hell were you even worried? Why didn’t you just ask! What the hell is wrong with you? Why couldn’t you do something so damn simple?

You want to fucking cry.

Your lips quake when you reply, “I… I’m fine with anything.”

“What’s wrong, doll?”

“Nothing.” Your laugh is hollow and your throat is clogged. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Hanging your head, you hope your voice sounds neutral when you say, “Really, it’s stupid and I’m fine! It’s okay.”

Yoongi seems to make a decision after a second, and the way he says your name—not a nickname, not anything else—takes all the oxygen from your lungs.

“Where are you?”

“Home. If you need to go home, it’s okay—”

“Don’t. I’m on the way.”

The call abruptly ends after that, which leaves you sitting on your sofa with rain in your palms.

Yoongi sounded so exhausted, and now he has to deal with you. You feel absolutely awful for adding any unnecessary stress to his day, and you already feel some tears slipping through your fingers.

God, you’re so fucking frustrated. Why didn’t you do literally anything else today except worry? You could’ve run errands, job hunted like you needed to, or at least been as productive as he apparently was. Now you just feel regretful and useless.

Yoongi texts you a good handful of minutes later, and you swipe away your tears before heading to the front.

You vow to put on a happy face when you swing the door open but holy fuck he’s in jeans and a white tee and you’re suddenly spellbound. His wild hair distracts you to the point that you don’t even realize that he’s shutting the door instead of you.

Gripping the back of your head, he forces you to look him in the eye, the wood banging closed before he questions,

“Were you worried?”

You tense before slowly nodding.

Yoongi darts his eyes between yours. “How long?”

“I…” Your eyelids slip shut with resignation. “Since basketball.”

Yoongi lets go of your neck, and you blink to see him looking into the house behind you, gnawing on his bottom lip and inhaling deep.

You wonder what he’s thinking, what lies behind that hardened expression on his face.

Is he upset with you for worrying? Does he think he made a mistake making any sort of plans with someone like you?

He’s muttering something under his breath, but his voice is so gravelly and deep that you can’t make out a single word.

It’s a drawn-out moment before he finally moves again, slinging his arms around your neck with a sigh and pressing his forehead against yours. His voice sounds like nighttime when he softly asks,

“You seeing anyone?”

You blink. “No.”

“Same.” He moves to press his lips to your temple. “Been dodging shit since the night you called.”

You feel your lips tremble. What a fucking idiot you’ve been.

Though stress is already slipping off your shoulders in clumps, you can’t help but point out with a clogged throat, “That was two weeks ago.”

“And?”

You inhale his scent, closing your eyes and berating yourself again for jumping to so many conclusions. “I dunno. Just feels like awhile for you.”

You feel rather than see Yoongi’s mouth curve up as he huffs out a short breath. “Is that what you think of me?”

“Mm.” You shrug. “I don’t have any new evidence.”

It’s after this that he props up your chin, his eyes already creased behind loose orange locks. “Smartass.”

Your smile is rueful at best, and you hate how fucking obvious you were to him. Yoongi probably thinks you’re pathetic.

But he doesn’t harbor any pity in his face as he reiterates, “I told you. All you have to do is ask. If you’re thinking something, say it.”

For the first time, it’s your turn to look away.

Taehyung’s words echo in your mind, and his advice coupled with Yoongi’s insistence finally breaks the dam in your mouth. Everything you’ve been wanting to say surges out in waves as you take a step back.

“I just— I dunno. I don’t wanna pry with you because I don’t know you like that yet. And the other day, Tae said something about you acting weird lately and maybe you found a regular or whatever and I just— I‘ve just been so…” You sigh as your gaze falls to your feet. “You keep telling me to tell you stuff, but I barely get anything from you. And that’s whatever, I guess. It’s not like... I mean. It just feels one-sided.”

Well. The confidence certainly wasn’t there, but at least you got it all out. Taehyung would have to at least give you a pat on the back for your efforts and, though you may not also score a free movie date, you feel damn accomplished.

Even though, from the looks of things, you may have just put distance between you and the man that shamelessly came to your house while your brother is gone. Twice.

Fuck.

Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, face full of shadows and conflict. You don’t know what else to do except wait, so you do, hoping that you didn’t ruin anything.

But he just looks at you before a resigned whoosh of air leaves his nose. “Get your stuff.”

“What?”

Yoongi tilts his head towards your room. “Your stuff.” He quickly exhales before continuing, “I’ll tell you everything in the car.”

“Oh,” you breathe, anticipation bubbling furiously as you regard him one more time. “You sure?”

“Go, doll.”

It doesn’t take you long to grab your things, especially since you didn’t unpack what you already put together the night before but never used. You hope the backpack isn’t too conspicuous, planning on using your laptop as the top excuse for that big of a bag.

But the walk to his car is quiet and charged, and it isn’t until you’re a few blocks out that Yoongi finally decides to talk.

“You remember Kook?”

Huh?

That isn’t how you expected things to start, especially if it’s who you think he’s referring to.

Sucking in a breath, you clarify, “Kook? …Jungkook?”

“Yeah.”

Yes.

Yes, you do.

You remember Jungkook very well.

“Mmhmm,” is all you can say, voice in the tiniest font possible. Looking out the window, you refocus your vision to see the reflection of your worry instead of the passing scenery.

“Well, he runs a studio here now. Downtown.”

You swallow. While you know a lot of things about the guy, you didn’t know this bit. “Oh. That’s dope.”

“That’s where I’ve been.”

You snap wide eyes to him, stunned by multiple things. One, a name you didn’t expect to hear come up. And two, the fact that Yoongi’s even telling you this.

Yes, the conversations have been a bit one-sided, but it’s not like the two of you are even a thing. Hell, you’ve barely seen each other and it’s almost been a whole year since you first approached him.

Technically, he doesn’t owe you any explanations at all.

So the fact that Yoongi—a very private person—is willing to share something about his life just to erase any worries you have, makes you feel things you don’t want to feel right now. Never mind the Jungkook thing. Looking back, you’re shocked that he didn’t just bounce after your mini rant. How did you even end up in his car after that?

“Oh…” is all you can say, again. “That explains the music stuff.”

“Kinda,” Yoongi says, low. “But anyway, I was a nobody when I got there. Then some shit went down and now it’s just me and two other people, so. I got work out the ass.”

“Damn, I’m sorry.”

“That’s not it.” He runs long fingers through his fiery hair, and you’re temporarily distracted by the clinking of his bracelets. “We got a project deadline that I highly doubt we’ll make. Even if we go nonstop everyday for the next week.”

“When’s the deadline?”

“The dude needs his files by next Friday.”

“Shit. Why am I even coming over?”

The trip to his place is short, his car already rolling up to his apartment. “Don’t worry about that. I’m peacing out early tomorrow,” he proclaims before hoisting himself out.

“What!” You don’t even see him rounding the car when you shove your door open, eyes wide and mouth hung open.

“That’s the plan,” he confirms after a few steps, disappearing around the corner that hides his place from the parking lot.

Padding quickly after him, you refuse with every step, “No no. Hell no. You shouldn’t do that just because of me.”

He shoots a quick smirk your way before moving to unlock his door. “It’s for me, too, doll. I’m fuckin’ beat.”

As you’re greeted by his dark apartment, your whispers pass the threshold with your sagging shoulders. “Yoongi… I’m sorry for bothering you with all this. I’ve been so stupid.”

“Nah. This is on me. I could’ve just told you.”

Shucking off your bag and placing it next to your shoes with a thump, you assure him—because you really feel the need to—with a whisper, “You can, you know. You can tell me things any time. I mean it.”

Yoongi just huffs out of his nose before looking away, his tiredness accentuated by faint moonlight seeping through nearby blinds. “It’s all bullshit. I don’t wanna bother you with it.”

“You’re not.” It’s your turn to take his face in your hands. And the action stuns you just as much as him. “I feel like you’re keeping a lot of stuff to yourself and that’s not healthy. Obviously I’m the last one to talk, but. I know what that feels like. It sucks.”

There’s a bit of settled silence after your last word dissipates. In the dark of the room, all you can see is his white shirt, now a faint blue.

Did you say too much? Offer something you shouldn’t have?

Well. He can deal. After witnessing the self-destruction of your day in real time, you meant every word.

Yoongi finally moves, slowly sliding a hand over one of yours. His voice seeps out like honey when he asks, “Think you’re so smart, huh?”

“No. I’m an idiot.”

He laughs.

“But I mean it.” You press your fingers around his jawline a bit tighter, willing your intentions to transfer right into his mind. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

His eyes search your face, and you feel like you can wait forever to hear his answer. It’s the second time you see something besides confidence in his face, and it makes you scared and content and something else you can’t quite place.

So when he lowers his gaze to your lips and tells you to just fucking kiss him, you smash your mouth on his before he even gets the words out.

The next batch of seconds is a whirlwind, both of you stumbling with purpose to his room. Every time you try to look into the darkness to see where you’re going, your jaw is gripped and your lips are claimed. Over and over and over. Your breath caressing his mouth; his groans invading your throat—everything is happening at once and comes to a head as your back connects with his door.

A groan rips from your throat before a satisfied laugh follows, and the twist in sounds causes Yoongi to pause on his way to grip his doorknob.

You aim a look of question his way, but he simply hums in amusement before diving to your neck, scorching your skin with his saliva and pent-up frustrations.

“Yoongi,” you whine, gripping his shirt and tugging him impossibly close to you like you did in your own entryway. And once you say his name, it’s the only thing you chant, even while he yanks his door open and during your rushed fall onto his bed.

He quickly follows suit, smothering your body lovely and capturing your lips once more. With a passing thought, you notice that he’s much quieter this time, not having said a single word since you started.

Holy fuck, you’re here again. Excitement cannot even begin to describe the way you feel, for what exists in your chest feels much too intense for any known language.

As Yoongi brings a hand up to grip the bottom of your shirt, you feel a wave of shakes overcome you—shakes that have been kept dormant for almost a year. Pure want is what causes your hands to grab his tee in reply, and your voice is heavy with pleas,

“Yoongi… I missed…”

“Mm.”

“So much.”

He kisses the side of your mouth—rough—before shoving your legs open and pressing himself against your center. Though he still doesn’t respond with words, his answer is very, truly loud.

And when he straightens into a kneel to yank his shirt off, it is then that you notice glints of moonlight around his neck.

Oh, fuck. How did you not feel those chains at all?

Yoongi doesn’t give you time to ponder, grabbing your shirt and pulling it up until you adjust yourself for its removal. It’s quickly flung to join his before he’s reaching around to unhook your bra, using one hand while digging the other into his mattress.

As your bare chest is claimed by hot lips, you decide that you like both Yoongi’s—both the talkative and the silent. While the talkative Yoongi brought out the beautifully dark parts of you, the silent Yoongi allows you to simply feel without thoughts. Only the sounds of your lust burst around the bed, a symphony with the rustling of your discarded pants and rumpling of soft sheets. It’s still passionate; it’s still toe-curling; it’s still volcanic.

Lost in throes of pleasure, your body relies purely on instinct, legs sliding along his body and your hands hastily searching for anything to grip. When your fingers find the chains sliding along your sternum, the deep chuckle that rumbles above you is full of mischief.

Finally, Yoongi speaks to simply make fun of you. “Adorable.”

You don’t get to reply, though. Because this is the moment he decides to cup you through your underwear, growling with furrowed brows, “Holy fuck.”

No matter what, this part will always embarrass you. The way you’re so easily affected by the man crushing you with the best burden you could ask for. Igniting under your skin, you try to hide your smile with a lip bite, but Yoongi only laughs, slow.

“So fucking wet.”

You flinch at his sudden swirling movements, shutting your eyes in pure instinct and sighing up to his fiery locks. “Just for… Just for you.”

Instead of stripping your last piece of clothing, Yoongi does something that has your head spinning off its axis—pushing the material aside and sliding his fingers up your slick folds.

You jolt upward. “Fuck! Oh, my god.”

Laugh full of smugness, Yoongi replies, “I knew you’d like this. Dirty girl.”

Holy shit. You knew that you missed his fingers, especially being where they are. But what’s happening now blows your expectations to pieces.

It feels so different. Why does it feel so much dirtier? Why are you absolutely loving this? You’re envisioning other scenarios where Yoongi would do this same exact thing, your head clouding more with every single one.

And when he admits something, your hands leave his jewelry to grip the sheets around you instead.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for months.”

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, throwing your head back as he softly caresses your clit.

“Every fucking time I saw you.”

Another teasing flick of his thumb.

“Wanted to get you in every room and make you scream.”

You finally whine with frustration, unable to take it anymore. The coil in your belly is already twisting incredibly tight. You need more. More more more and if you don’t get it you’re going to combust. “Yoongi! Oh, fuck—Please, I need you.”

“Not yet, baby girl,” he responds, “You’re gonna come around my fingers so I can lick’em clean.”

“Yoongi!”

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

Fuck! More.You need more.

But Yoongi starts to insert his digits into your cunt and your mind blanks. You repeat his name like a mantra, digging the back of your head into his mattress.

“That’s it, doll,” he encourages, “Fuck, you take these so well.”

“Yoongi, please…”

“Uh uh.”

You throw your head to the side, limbs locking as your body rocks on his fingers. “Please,” you beg, “I want— I need you inside.”

Immediately, Yoongi stops altogether. “You sure?”

“Yes! Oh my god, yes.”

“Say less.”

There’s a complete switch in both your movements when he finally realizes what you really want and need. His chains swing from his neck as he leans to grab a condom from his nightstand, but your hands grab at his chest instead of the weighty strings of silver.

“Please,” you keep whispering, raking your nails along his skin and pulling a groan from his throat. “Please.”

After he deftly tears the wrapper, Yoongi puffs mirth onto your awaiting form. “I like this part of you.”

“What part?”

“Impatient ass.”

“Shut up!”

He grins before caging you in again, aligning himself with your cunt and making you tense your legs around him.

It’s what you’ve been wanting ever since leaving that day, and from Yoongi’s face, you’d like to think he feels the same.

He looks at you, silent, waiting for your cue. And just like before, the same feeling blooms in your chest while butterflies take flight into your fingertips, raising them to slightly tug on a necklace while nodding.

Your eyes almost roll all the way into your head when Yoongi pushes your panties to the side, insistent on keeping them on while fucking you. Goddamn, you’re finding out new shit you like again. How he’s able to provide these sexual revelations, you can’t fathom but don’t want to question.

The intrusion still has its initial discomfort, but your cunt adjusts to accommodate him, fluttering fast and milking him after seconds.

A deep groan falls from his lips. “So tight.”

Nodding, you offer your own observation, “Big. Very big.”

A half wince-half laugh leaves his mouth, and his jaw works in concentration, brows knitting and teeth biting his bottom lip.

“Oh, my god.” You throw your head back for the upteenth time, hands coming up to grip his arms. “This feels so good.”

“Fuck, baby.”

Breathing hard, you start to tilt your hips, impatience and lust fueling your order, “Fuck me. Fuck me, Yoongi.”

You don’t get a reply—just the long thrust of his dick before he launches into a frantic pace.

Fuck! You see stars. You’re launched into the sky. You don’t know time from space as your head gets closer and closer to his headboard, your pelvis constantly getting smacked by his rough pounding.

“So fucking—Fuck!”

Yoongi grabs one of your legs and slings it over his shoulder, pushing himself incredibly deep and making you whine impossibly high. The new angle has him hitting a spot that has your vision blanking, and holy shit it’s impossible how close you are.

How? What’s wrong with you? How are you about to come?

“Yoongi, I’m—I’m so close already—”

“Goddamn, I feel you. Lemme feel it, babe.”

“So fast—”

His voice dips when he growls, “I love it. Fucking do it.”

You can barely hear what he says next, but your body still reacts as if it understands.

Filth. Absolute filth. It has to be. Words and names that you want him to say louder but are too embarrassed to tell him. Phrases that you want him to say right to your face.

But just him muttering it is enough for you, and you gasp as euphoria overcomes you, shaking you from your core and rattling your bones. Waves crash against your proverbial shore and the undercurrents take you simultaneously, and your trembling leaks into your moans,

“Fuck! Yoongi!”

“That’s it, babe. Fuck!”

He keeps pounding into you through your high, tightening your core enough for you to snap again around him, gushing around his cock and straining the muscles in your neck. An outright groan tears from your throat, and the ceiling feels strangely close for a few seconds before you thump back down onto the bed.

Just like last time, Yoongi follows right after. “Oh fuck, I’m—”

“You gonna come, too—”

“Fuck. Turn over. Lemme see this ass.”

The urgency in his voice spurns you into action. Though you’ve never done this before, you let your body take over, twisting yourself and lifting your butt from the mattress. The wet sound of the condom snapping off hits your ears and, before you can anticipate what this will feel like, your underwear is tugged to your thighs before hot spurts coat your skin. Quickly, a wet hand grips one of your plump cheeks, making you moan into the pillow smothering your sudden shyness.

“Fuck,” Yoongi grits through his teeth as you hear his fingers slide along his cock. “Goddamn.”

You feel like it should be awkward, or at least strange to be in this position.

But it’s not.

You don’t know if it’s because you’re satiated, or if it’s because of who you’re with, but you find that you don’t mind this at all. The only uncomfortable thing that you feel is a bit of draft from the open bedroom door.

A sweaty hand slides along the curve of your ass before patting its side, and you hear a sigh above you.

“So perfect.”

You bury your forehead further down, not knowing what to do other than wait and wonder how you’re gonna get all of his essence off of you.

“One sec. Don’t move.”

Oh. He’s gonna do it.

It’s not long before you feel a soft towel swipe everything from your back, and the care in his movements makes you both happy and incredibly, embarrassingly shy. You would think that Yoongi’s wiping a vinyl with how tender he’s treating your damp skin.

As he slides a hand over you to see if he missed anything, you sigh, “That went way too fast.”

A chuckle. “What, never did a quickie before?”

You have. But you never came during those. You have never come that fast in your goddamn life. “I mean, in a bedroom, though?”

“Happens.”

Maybe for him, you muse with a huff.

But with every fuck in his room comes the next step. The soft kick you’re anticipating with a heavy chest.

So much for an hour tops. You’re pretty sure that only lasted—

Yoongi playfully slaps your ass, the shock of the motion jolting you forward.

“Ow! Rude!”

A laugh. “You can move now.”

With a huff, you force your body up and slide your feet down to the ground, teetering side to side as you make your way to the bathroom with a stretched pair of panties.

When you’re done, you fully expect Yoongi to be up to walk you out. You got what you came for, just like the last time, and you know what to expect next.

However, that’s not what you see. Instead, he’s lying back on his bed in a simple tee and sweats, feet planted on the ground and eyes closed shut.

Shit. Do you wake him? Do you initiate the kick and find a ride again?

Lamenting the amount you’re spending on ride apps alone, another thought enters your post-sex mind.

Does he still need to eat?

From the phone call and getting context to his day, it seemed like Yoongi didn’t get to do anything else but work. Hopefully he did sneak a meal in, but if he didn’t, that can’t be good.

You go over to him after putting on the only change of clothes you brought. Placing a palm on his shoulder, you give him a light shake. “Yoongi?”

“Hmm.”

“You should eat.”

His brows move before he responds, voice heavy with sleep and disappointment. “Shit. I didn’t get food for you.”

For you? That’s what he’s worried about right now? Your chest swells while your stomach grumbles. “Don’t worry about me. I can order something. Or make something if I can use your kitchen real quick.”

Another breath. Another pause.

“Course you can.”

Smiling light, you gently pat him. “Okay. Get in bed, dummy.” Slowly but surely, you get him into a sitting position before making him stand, melting at the furrowed brows and second pout you get in return.

He looks so much younger when he does that. It’s so out of his normal character that you can’t help but be endeared. “This is the second time I’m tucking you in. Does this always happen?”

“Mmph.”

After a small struggle, you guide him to lie down on the side of the bed you think he uses, the one closer to his bathroom. It seems to work, and he thumps down onto his pillow without any further arguments.

Another grateful smile carves itself into your features when you think about everything that happened tonight.

Yoongi was obviously so exhausted—again—and yet…

Not only did he reveal things about his personal life, he made sure you knew he wasn’t seeing anyone. Not only did he put up with your mountain of insecurities, he made sure you got the point by bringing you into his bed again.

You shake your head.

Even if he doesn’t mind your outstanding ability to worry and overthink, you know it’s going to frustrate you until you can get it under some fucking control.

It’s with a vow to do so that you start to walk away.

But before you even go, a hand catches your wrist.

Your eyes snap downward as you tense, wondering how Yoongi knew you were still there. Isn’t he asleep?

“Sorry.”

You blink. “For what?”

“Making…” A soft exhale. “Making you worry.”

Warmth blooms in your chest, gently searing the edges of your surrounding bones. “That’s just me being me,” you whisper, though you’re touched that he’s even apologizing.

Yeah, he didn’t tell you anything, but you get it now. How can he know what you’re feeling if you don’t say anything? How would he really know what you want if you don’t ask?

If you’re going to do this… whatever, with him, you can’t keep having days like today. Can’t keep driving yourself into the ground with conclusions when all you need to do is ask.

Yoongi’s voice is so, so low when he responds, “You shouldn’t ever need to.”

Understanding coats your face as you tenderly take his fingers from your arm.

With the conversation over, you know what you have to do next. Because you’re not exclusive. You’re not different from everyone else that’s been in his bed. There aren’t any special privileges that come with tucking him in. No overthinking about that.

With a big breath, you say goodbye.

“I’ll go, okay? I’ll just make something when I get home. I know you don’t like people st—”

“Don’t.”

Time freezes.

“What?”

Slowly turning back to face him, you watch for any hint of mistake in his face. What did he say? Did he even mean to cut you off?

After a rise and fall of his shoulders, you feel your heart stop when the last thing Yoongi says before slumber takes him is a soft, genuine,

“Stay.”

tbc. :)

A/N: HELLO! thank you so much for reading and for all the support thus far. i know this chapter was so jam packed with stuff, but now you know why i had to split the weekend up into two parts lol. did i write close to 2k of this while waiting in lines at disney? yes. LOL and yeah, i know about the angst. but don’t worry. 3tan5 will make up for it :) also, if you’re new to the 3tan fam, happy to have you !! it’s chaotic here but it’s a hell of a time :D ++ A/N 2: AHHH OK SO. hello?? the amount of times i wanted to scream about stuff in this part bc of things that kept coming up while i was finishing it sdklfjdsk like. everyone guessing the hair color? guessing what jimin’s appearance would be? yoongi freaking posting STUDIO PICS ON IG? LMAO i wanted to say so much but i had to just sit here and keep everything to myself so that it would all be a surprise. hope you all enjoyed!! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that aren’t okay with reblogging with a review, commenting on this, or sending a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a feedback dropbox :D ⇥ here! ++ ⇥ masterlist ++ up next..... stay (the weekend, pt. 2) :’)))

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