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pucksandpower · 2 months

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Lover

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: the little (and not so little) ways that you and Charles show your love for each other

You’re in the kitchen, phone pressed to your ear as you listen intently to Charles’ mother give you her famous tiramisu recipe step-by-step. “Now, this next part is very important,” she stresses. “You’ll need one cup of granulated sugar to add to the mascarpone filling.”

“Got it, one cup sugar for the filling,” you confirm.

Pascale chuckles warmly. “I’m so glad Charles has found such a lovely girl who wants to learn my recipes. He’s always loved my tiramisu since he was a little boy.”

You smile, touched by her kind words. You and Charles have been together for a year now, but it still makes your heart flutter to be so accepted into his close-knit family.

“It means so much to me that you’re sharing this recipe with me,” you tell Pascale sincerely.

You chat with her a while longer, going over some of the trickier steps and getting tips on how to best soak the ladyfingers. Finally, you have the full recipe memorized and are ready to give it a try.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it now. Thank you so much again, Pascale! I really appreciate you taking the time to walk me through this.”

“Of course, chère! Let me know how it turns out. Charles is a lucky man to have such a thoughtful girlfriend,” Pascale says warmly before hanging up.

You grin, eager to get started. You know tiramisu is Charles’ absolute favorite dessert and you want to surprise him with a homemade version tonight after he finally comes back from his latest race.

Humming to yourself, you gather the ingredients — mascarpone, eggs, espresso, cocoa powder, and of course, the sugar. You double check you have everything and preheat the oven so the ladyfingers will be perfect.

As you start the recipe, you feel a rush of excitement. You follow each step meticulously, Pascale’s voice guiding you in your mind. You carefully separate the eggs and beat the whites to stiff peaks. When it’s time to add the sugar to the mascarpone filling, you pause.

Now, which one was the sugar again? You look between the two identical jars of white powder, second-guessing yourself.

Shoot, you should have labeled them.

After a moment of hesitation, you decide on the bowl on the left. Yes, that must be sugar, you reassure yourself. You mix it into the silky mascarpone filling until it’s perfectly combined. Once assembled, you spread the filling over the ladyfingers and cover it with a final dusting of cocoa powder.

It looks absolutely beautiful. You did it! You made Charles’ favorite dessert completely from scratch. You can’t wait to see the look on his face when he takes the first delicious bite.

You glance at the clock as you clean up. Charles will be home soon. You carefully store the tiramisu in the fridge to chill until after dinner.

Right on time, you hear Charles’ keys in the lock. You hurry to greet him, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “I missed you!”

He grins and nuzzles your neck. “And I missed you, ma belle.”

Over dinner on the balcony, Charles tells you all about the race and his ambitious one-stop strategy under the Suzuka cherry blossoms. You listen attentively, asking questions and laughing at his dramatic reenactments.

Finally, it’s time for dessert. “I have a surprise for you,” you say with a playful smile.

Charles’ eyes light up. “Oh really? Do tell!”

You bring the chilled tiramisu to the table, along with two small plates and forks. “Ta-da! I made your favorite, with your mom’s secret recipe.”

“No way, you’re kidding!” Charles exclaims. He takes in the layered dessert with delight. “It looks incredible, mon cœur. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

You blush happily as you dish out servings for both of you. “I hope I did it justice. Your mom walked me through the whole thing over the phone.”

Charles takes a big eager bite, closing his eyes as he savors it. “Mmm … it’s absolutely delicious,” he declares after swallowing. “Seriously, this is amazing. Here, you have to try it!”

He holds out a forkful toward you. You accept it into your mouth, immediately bursting into incredulous laughter. “Oh my god, this is so salty! I definitely screwed up somewhere. You don’t have to eat it!”

But Charles just grins and takes another hearty bite. “What do you mean? It tastes perfect to me.”

You stare at him in confusion. “You can’t actually like this, Charles. It’s like I poured the entire salt shaker in by accident.”

“No no, it’s great! The best tiramisu I’ve ever had,” he insists. Seeing your disbelief, he takes your hand from across the table. “Really, Y/N. I love it because you made it just for me. With love. That’s what makes it so special.”

You feel your insides turn soft and melty at his words. “You’re just saying that to be nice,” you protest weakly.

He shakes his head. “I’m saying it because it’s true. Because ...” He pauses, looking into your eyes sincerely. “Because I’m completely in love with you, mon amour. I’d eat a thousand salty tiramisus if it made you smile like this.”

You can’t help the joyful laugh that escapes you. “You’re such a hopeless romantic, you know that?” You tease him.

“Only for you,” he flirts back with a playful wink.

You lean across the table to kiss him tenderly. When you pull back, the adoration shining in his green eyes leaves you breathless.

Maybe he’s right. It doesn’t matter that the tiramisu is an utter fail. All that matters is that you made it with love.

And that’s the sweetest taste of all.

***

It’s been a few weeks since your salty tiramisu mishap. You and Charles laughed about it afterwards, but you were still determined to make him something special with your own two hands.

So you decided to take up crocheting. It was trickier than you expected, but you persevered, watching YouTube tutorials and getting tangled in yarn for hours.

Finally, after a month of work, you’ve produced your first wearable creation — a sweater for Charles.

It’s an oversized style, cream colored with red racing stripes across the chest. You did your best to evenly stitch the rows, but there are gaps in some places that cause the stripes to waver drunkenly.

The sleeves are several inches too long, dangling adorably over Charles’ hands when he tries it on. And the neckline gapes open no matter how he tugs it.

But none of the flaws matter to Charles. His face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning when you present it to him.

“You made this? For me?” He asks as he eagerly pulls it on.

You nod, suddenly shy. “I wanted to make something special for you, even if my skills are still .... developing,” you admit with an embarrassed chuckle.

But Charles is beaming, admiring himself in the mirror. “It’s perfect! Seriously, I love it. This is the best gift ever!”

He engulfs you in a big hug, sleeves flopping over you. You hug him back, relieved and happy he appreciates your efforts.

From that day on, Charles insists on wearing the sweater constantly, even styling it with whatever eclectic pants he decides to wear on race weekends.

You try to discourage him — the holes along the hem are getting bigger from snagging and the neckline is truly unsalvageable.

But Charles won’t hear it. “Are you kidding? This is my new lucky charm!” He declares. “I have to wear it for every race now.”

Sure enough, he starts a winning streak whenever he dons your handmade sweater, even though it’s quite a departure from the fitted shirts and designer hoodies he previously favored, leaving his fans scratching their heads at the sudden change.

You watch in amused endearment as he proudly wears your gift for candid pre-race interviews and photo-ops. The overlong sleeves just make his exuberant gestures even more adorable.

Finally, a reporter works up the courage to ask him about the quirky sweater. “That’s quite a statement piece you have been arriving in each Sunday,” the reporter comments during a press conference. “What made you decide to wear it?”

Charles’ face lights up even more. “My sweater? It was handmade for me by my incredible girlfriend,” he announces, making you blush furiously from the audience.

“She worked so hard on it, even though crocheting is totally new to her. So I wear it to show how much I appreciate her and how talented she is,” he continues sincerely.

The reporters “aww” as Charles shows off the uneven stitches like they’re couture. “It’s my good luck charm now too! She put so much love into making it that I feel like I can’t lose whenever I have it on.”

He looks directly at you, eyes shining. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever received, because she made it just for me. I’m the luckiest man in the world to be with someone so thoughtful and caring.”

You have to wipe away joyful tears at his heartfelt words. You never imagined your clumsy crocheting would come to mean so much to him.

But Charles wears that sweater for every race, no matter how tattered it gets. Because for him, it represents something priceless — your love.

***

You hum along to the radio as you stir the melted chocolate in a bowl. The rich aroma fills the air of your shared apartment. Today is Valentine’s Day and you want to surprise your boyfriend with homemade chocolate-covered strawberries when he gets home from training.

You dip the first plump, red strawberry into the silky chocolate, letting the excess drip off before placing it gently onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. One by one, you coat each strawberry, taking care to fully submerge them.

When the tray is full, you quickly pop one glistening strawberry into your mouth and slide the rest into the fridge to let the chocolate harden. As you wait, you tidy up the kitchen, washing the bowls and utensils used to make the treat. A glance at the clock on the microwave tells you Charles will be home soon.

The sound of the front door opening makes you grin. “Mon amour, I’m back!” Charles calls out.

You grab the tray of chocolate-covered strawberries and head towards his voice. “Welcome home! I have a surprise for y-”

You stop short, your throat suddenly feeling scratchy and tight. Your lips tingle oddly.

Confused, you lift a hand to your neck. Is this just excitement to see Charles? But no, your tongue is starting to swell now too. Your breathing becomes labored.

Charles rounds the corner. “Mon ange, what’s wro-” His eyes widen as he takes in your distress. In a few quick strides he is by your side, the tray clattering forgotten to the floor. “What’s happening?”

You wheeze, barely able to force out words. “Can’t … breathe …”

Charles sweeps you into his arms and runs for the front door. “Hospital. Now.”

You cling to him, each ragged breath a struggle. The world seems to blur and tilt alarmingly.

Then somehow you’re in Charles’ car, speeding down the street. One of his hands grips the wheel while the other clutches yours tightly. “Just hold on, stay with me. We’re almost there.”

You try to respond but only manage a choked gurgle. Black spots swim across your vision. A feeling of detachment steals over you.

The car screeches to a stop outside the emergency department entrance. Charles lifts you from the passenger seat, calling for help. There is a flurry of activity as a team of doctors and nurses rushes over with a gurney.

You are barely aware of being wheeled into an exam room, too focused on trying to pull air into your lungs. A mask is fitted over your face, dispensing blessed oxygen. An IV is inserted into your arm.

The medical staff works quickly, asking Charles questions as they begin treatment. Antihistamines. Steroids. Epinephrine. The medications slowly start to counteract your reaction. The vice-like tightness in your chest and throat gradually lessens.

After what feels like an eternity, you are able to take full breaths again. The room comes back into focus, no longer spinning. Charles sits at your bedside, clutching your hand, his handsome face creased with worry.

The doctor examines you, nodding with satisfaction as your symptoms continue to improve. “It appears you had a severe allergic reaction. We’ll run some tests to determine the cause.”

Charles looks stricken. “But how? What could have possibly …” His gaze falls on your swollen lips. “The strawberries,” he whispers.

You nod weakly. It had to have been. You’ve never reacted to them before, but an allergy can develop at any time.

Charles smoothes back your hair, distress pouring off of him. “I’m so sorry, mon cœur. I should have been there with you.”

You squeeze his hand. “You couldn’t have known. I’m okay now thanks to you.”

He just shakes his head, unconvinced.

The testing confirms it — you are now mysteriously allergic to strawberries. The doctor gives you an EpiPen prescription and strict instructions to the fruit in the future.

After several more hours of observation, you are finally discharged from the hospital with an exhausted Charles supporting you.

The sun has long since set on what was supposed to have been a romantic Valentine’s Day. Instead, you spent it swollen and terrified in the ER.

Back home, Charles tucks you into bed, insisting you rest. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror — puffy-faced and red-eyed — and cringe. Some Valentine you turned out to be.

You reach for Charles’ hand again. “I’m so sorry I ruined our evening. I wanted it to be perfect but instead I ended up scaring you half to death and forcing you to rush me to the hospital.”

Charles silences you with a gentle kiss. “Not another word, mon amour. You have nothing to apologize for. All that matters is that you are safe.”

He caresses your cheek, looking at you with such love and tenderness it makes your heart ache. “You could never ruin anything. You are the light of my life — my everything. No Valentine’s Day is complete without you.”

You feel yourself tearing up. Even after the ordeal of this evening, he still looks at you like you hung the moon.

“You’re still the most beautiful Valentine I’ve ever had, you know that? A little swelling can’t hide that.” Charles brushes away your tears and pulls you close. “Rest now. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You nestle into his embrace, letting his warmth and steady heartbeat soothe you. As you drift off, you can’t help but marvel at how lucky you are to have this man. Even at your puffiest and most distressed, he thinks you’re beautiful.

No matter what surprises life throws at you, with Charles by your side you know everything will be okay. He loves you unconditionally — swollen lips, hospital visits, and all.

***

“Close your eyes,” you say to Charles as you lead him into the living room.

He laughs and covers his eyes with his hands. “What are you up to, mon amour?”

You grin, though he cannot see it. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

You guide him across the room, hands on his shoulders. He shuffles along, peeking through his fingers.

“No peeking!” You scold, and he squeezes his eyes shut again, smiling.

You position him in front of the coffee table. “Okay,” you say. “You can open your eyes now.”

Charles drops his hands. On the table sits a large gift-wrapped box with a massive red bow on top. His eyes go wide with surprise and delight.

“For me?”

You nod, bouncing on your toes excitedly. “Happy birthday!”

He pulls you into a tight hug. “You are too good to me, ma belle. Thank you.” Leaning down, he captures your lips in a sweet kiss.

You swat his shoulder playfully. “You don’t even know what it is yet! Open it.”

Charles grins and turns his attention to the present. He carefully unties the bow and lifts the lid on the box. Inside sits a sleek red bomber jacket with the Ferrari logo embroidered on the chest. He runs his fingers over the leather appreciatively.

“This is beautiful,” he murmurs.

“Look on the back,” you prompt.

Charles turns the jacket over. Across the back, in bold white letters, it reads: DADDY.

His eyes go wide again, and for a moment he just stands there gaping at the jacket. Then his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses to the floor in a dead faint.

“Charles!” You rush to his side, kneeling next to him on the plush carpet. Gently you pat his cheek, trying to rouse him. “Charles, wake up!”

After a few tense moments, his eyelashes begin to flutter. You breathe a sigh of relief as he opens his eyes.

“Wha … what happened?” He mumbles.

“You fainted, silly.”

You help him sit up slowly. He puts a hand to his head, still looking dazed.

“I had the strangest dream …” He trails off, glancing around the room. His gaze lands on the jacket lying nearby, and his eyes widen again.

“It wasn’t a dream,” you say softly.

Charles looks at you, lips parted in shock. “Then you … you’re …”

You furrow your brow in confusion. “I’m what?”

“Pregnant!” He exclaims. “We’re having a baby!”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to go wide. “What? No! I’m not pregnant!”

Charles frowns, thoroughly bewildered. “But the jacket said … I thought it was your way of telling me we’re expecting.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Oh my goodness, no. The jacket is for a very different reason.”

He looks almost disappointed. “It is?”

You take his hands in yours. “I know you’ve been talking about getting a dog for months now, ever since you met Mimi.”

Comprehension begins to dawn on Charles’s face. “So the jacket …”

“Is for our new puppy!” You finish excitedly.

Charles’ face lights up. “You got me a dog? Really?”

You nod, grinning. “Really! I picked him up yesterday from the shelter. He’s the cutest little dachshund, white with brown spots. I’ve been keeping him at your brother’s so I could surprise you today.”

Charles whoops and tackles you in another ecstatic hug. You laugh as he covers your face in rapid, smacking kisses.

“This is the best birthday surprise ever!” He crows. “I can’t believe we’re finally getting a dog. And the jacket — it’s perfect!”

He grabs the bomber and shrugs it on over his t-shirt. It fits him flawlessly, the white lettering bold against the red.

Charles scrambles to his feet and rushes to the nearest mirror, twisting this way and that to admire himself. “I love it! Thank you, thank you!”

You stand and wrap your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I’m so glad. But you should really be thanking your new baby boy.”

Charles turns in your arms and cups your face in his hands. “Have I told you lately that you’re the best girlfriend in the world?”

You grin up at him. “Hmm, I don’t recall. Feel free to remind me.”

“You …” He punctuates each word with a kiss. “Are …” kiss “The …” kiss “Most …” kiss “Thoughtful …” kiss “Loving …” kiss “Girlfriend …” kiss “In …” kiss “The …” kiss “World.”

You pretend to swoon. “My, what a sweet talker you are.”

He chuckles and kisses you tenderly. When you break apart, his eyes are shining.

“So when do I get to meet our new baby?” He asks eagerly.

“Right now, if you want,” you say. “We can go pick him up from Lorenzo.”

Charles pumps a fist in the air. “Yes! I’m going to be the best dog dad ever, just you wait and see.” He crouches down and coos, “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”

You pat his head playfully. “You’re a good boy.”

Taking your hand, he practically drags you out the door, babbling excitedly about names, beds, toys, and treats for the puppy the whole way to the car. Your heart swells watching his enthusiasm. You know that dog is going to be the most loved and cared for pup in the world.

When you arrive at his brother’s apartment, Charles bounds up to the front door ahead of you, unable to contain his excitement. Lorenzo opens it laughing, the wiggling brown and white puppy in his arms.

“Someone’s here to see you!” He says, handing the squirming bundle of fluff to Charles.

“Hello, hello!” Charles cuddles the puppy to his chest, his whole face alight with pure joy. The pup responds by licking every inch of Charles’ face he can reach.

Charles laughs delightedly. “Aren’t you just the sweetest boy? Yes you are!”

He looks up at you, eyes shining. “Thank you, mon cœur. This is the best gift I could have asked for.”

You lean in and scratch the puppy behind his silky ears. “Of course. Happy birthday, my love.”

As you walk back to the car, Charles cradling the puppy like a newborn, you know in your heart that your little family is one step closer to completion.

***

The race weekend after Charles’ birthday feels strange. As you wander through the Ferrari garage during free practice, Fred rushes over looking concerned.

“Here, take a seat,” the team principal says, grabbing a folding chair and positioning it behind you. “You should not be on your feet so much in your condition.”

You frown in confusion. “What condition?”

But the French man has already hurried away. Shaking your head, you continue walking. It’s a few minutes later that you spot Pierre.

“Hey!” He says, jogging up to you. Before you can react, he places both hands on your stomach and smiles brightly. “Wow, it’s hard to believe that little baby Leclerc is in there! I can’t wait to meet my niece or nephew.”

Now you’re really bewildered. You take a small step back from Pierre’s wandering hands. “What are you talking about? I’m not pregnant!”

Pierre laughs. “Very funny. You don’t have to hide it from me.” He winks and walks away.

When Charles finds you later, you’re still puzzling over the strange encounter.

“Everyone is acting so weird,” you tell him, explaining what’s been happening all day. "It’s like they all think I’m pregnant or something."

Charles frowns. “That is odd. Where would they get that idea?”

You shake your head. “I have no idea …”

Later, after the last practice session of the day, you wander into Ferrari hospitality for a quick cup of coffee. Carlos quickly spots you and makes a beeline over, cheeks flushed with excitement.

“I just saw the photos of Charles wearing his new jacket.” He says. “A mini Leclerc on the way, how wonderful! Congratulations to you both.”

“What? No, there’s no …” you start to protest, but Carlos is already walking away.

Charles comes up beside you, having overheard. “This is getting out of hand,” he mutters. “We need to clear this up.”

“I know!” You say. “I feel bad, they all seem so excited. They must think we’re hiding a pregnancy from them.”

An idea comes to you then. Turning to Charles, you say loudly, “Honey, why don’t we go introduce the baby to everyone? I know they’re all just dying to meet him!”

Charles catches on immediately, smiling slyly. “Of course! Let’s go get our little one right now.”

You nod, linking your arm through his. As you walk away, you hear gasps and murmurs behind you.

“They already had the baby? When did this happen?”

“I can’t believe they’ve been hiding it all this time!”

You have to stifle a laugh. Charles grins and squeezes your hand.

In his driver’s room, your puppy is napping contentedly on a plush dog bed. Charles scoops him up gently so as not to wake him. Cradling the pup, you both head back out to the hospitality suite.

Everyone turns to look at you eagerly as you enter. Carlos steps forward, craning his neck to see the bundle in Charles’ arms.

“Here he is!” You announce proudly. “Our baby boy!”

Charles turns so they can see the sleeping dachshund nestled against his bomber jacket. A shocked silence falls over the room.

“Wha … that’s not a baby!” Carlos splutters. “That’s a dog!”

You and Charles just shrug with matching sly smiles. “He’s our baby.”

As the puppy yawns and stretches in Charles’ arms, licking his chin affectionately, you know with certainty that your furry new addition will be showered with just as much love and adoration as you both share for one another.

Who could ask for anything more?

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linalaine · 5 months

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- Brother's Best friend ! -

Scaramouche x Reader Smut

THIS WAS INSPIRED BY SOMEONE BUT I CANT REMEMBER THE BLOG NAME 😞

also I was debating making this longer but I just ended up redoing it so lmk if I should make a longer version of this !

🪼🌸cw: afab reader, wall fucking, degradation, use of pussy/cunt.

It was no secret you had the hots for your brothers best friend, Scaramouche. Hell, even your older brother knew! But it's not your fault your brother just had a hot best friend.

Scaramouches hair, his eyes, his voice, his style. Everything about him was so attractive. Even his snarky, condescending attitude at times, you can't help daydreaming and drooling over him whenever he comes over!

This is precisely why your older brother told you that his best friend is absolutely off limits to you. To not even look at him, or speak to him! He was off limits. Because you had the hots for him.

But that didn't mean that he didn't have the hots for you either.

Yes, everyone knew about your little crush on Scaramouche. Even Scara himself. The way you looked up at him with heart eyes, anyone could see. The way you would ask for his help for the most simple things when he came over, even if your brother was there too.

Now, Scara really did enjoy your brothers company! But he couldn't deny that you were also part of the reason why he came over so often. Just to see the way you run to the door excitingly to greet your brother and him. To see that look in your eye when you see him. To see the way you discreetly rub your thighs together and act all nervous when he knows damn well, all you want is to get in your brothers best friends' pants.

And he would happily oblige the next time he saw you. He was already planning.

So the next time Scaramouche did come over to your house with your brother, he simply ignored you. Only giving you a slight nod when you rushed to greet them. But that was the only acknowledgement you got.

Scara was planning on sleeping over with your brother to play video games all night. He knew exactly when to make his move. But that meant ignoring you first so your brother wouldn't get suspicious.

It killed him to see your disappointed face when he wouldn't talk to you! Watching as you left to go sulk in your room the rest of the night. But it's okay! He'd make sure to make up for it later tonight! <3

Which is exactly what he did. Once your brother put on his headset to play some game, Scara managed to sneak out of his room and beeline straight for your door! He knocked on it gently.

You peaked it open a little at first, before realizing it was him and opening it all the way.

"Scara! What is it? Do you-" You were suddenly caught off as he shoved his way into your room, shutting the door behind him and pinning you to the wall with his hand clamped over your mouth.

"Keep quiet, yeah? I managed to sneak away while your brother was distracted with his game so try not to alert him and be too loud, okay?"

Your cheeks went red but you nodded your head regardless. His hand was quickly replaced by his lips. Capturing yours in a deep, hungry kiss. He's been thinking about this all day long.

Scara pinned your hands to the door above your head with one hand, his other roaming your body, squeezing your ass. You had already become so desperate for him! Trying to push your lips against his harder.

He shoved his knee between your thighs, feeling your already wet cunt squish against it as you tried to grind into him, causing him to chuckle lowly.

"I knew you weren't as innocent as you tried to be. I could tell from the moment I saw you, you were nothing but a slut who practically begged to drool over my cock." Scara whispered in your ear before kissing your neck, down to your chest.

You whined softly at his words, still desperately trying to get more friction from his knee. He let go of your hands and quickly lifted your oversized pajama shirt over your head, exposing your breast to him.

"Didn't even wear a bra, fucking slut. You were waiting for this, weren't you?" You nodded your head vigoursly, leaning up to kiss him only for him to grab your chin tightly to keep you still while he took your nipple into his mouth.

You had to bit your lip to keep quiet. Scaras knee jerking up into your clothed pussy. He pulled away from your breast with a wet pop.

He hastily discarded his pants and boxers while you quickly kicked your panties off somewhere to the side. You didn't even have time to react when he spun you around! Your face and front pressed against the door while he kept his hands on your hips, rubbing his pre on your ass.

"Ready?" Scara asked softly into your ear, his tip teasing your entrance as you let out a small "mhm.."

That was all he needed before pushing into and bottoming out. You both let out a mix of moans and gasp. He gave you a moment to adjust to the feeling then started pulling out again until he was at the tip and roughly shoving back in all the way.

You could hear him groan behind you as he started fucking into you, his balls slapping against your ass. One of his hands snaked around you, shutting your mouth while the other was holding onto your wrist, pulling you back to meet his thrusts.

He was manhandling you. His best friends little sister. And it felt heavenly. Your moans muffled by his hand as your head squished up against the door. Your pussy was milking his cock for all its worth!

"Mm-Mmmph!~" You moaned out from behind his hand. His cock was dragging along your walls. It had you seeing stars. Scaras eyes were locked where his cock disappeared and reappeared from your little pussy.

"FUCK! You feel so fucking good, fuck.." He groaned, his head rolling back slightly. "Best fuucking pussy ever."

His cock twitched inside you. The harshness from his relentless pounding had your legs shaking. You were close and he could tell by the way your cunt went tight around his dick. He shoved his fingers into your mouth to silence you. You started sucking and swirling your tongue around them, choking like a good little whore!

Your orgasm was approaching quickly, leaving you trying to find something to stable yourself with. You clawed at the door, leaving marks behind like a feral cat as you completely crashed.

You came hard, tears blurring your eyes as you choked on Scaras fingers. He came soon after. The sight of you shaking from his cock was too much! With one harsh thrust and a loud smack of his pelvis hitting your ass, his warm seed flooded your pussy!

You moaned loudly again around his fingers as he filled you to the brim. Your body went limp after he pulled out, watching his cum drip from your abused hole and down your thighs.

He felt his cock grow harder again at the sight. He wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you flush against him. You felt his erection pressing against your ass again as you let out a soft whine. This was going to be a long night.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin smut #genshin x reader smut #genshin scaramouche #genshin scara #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader smut #scaramouche smut #scara x reader #scara x reader smut #scara smut #scara x y/n #scara x you

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kpopfanfictrash · 11 months

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Until Death (M)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Contributor:@baebae-goodnight for this unbelievable moodboard truly, like, WHAT

Genre: Green Bone Saga!AU || Organized Crime / Forbidden Romance / Suspense + Action

Author’s Note: This one shot is set in the Green Bone Saga universe, written by Fonda Lee. You do not need to have read this series in order to read this one shot (I explain concepts/terms), but I do HIGHLY encourage you to read this series at some point because it’s absolutely amazing!! Anyways, Yoongi dropped the Haegeum MV and I was like.... did he read Jade City lol. Further disclaimer this is not a retelling of the books, nor does the Kaul family exist in this version of Kekon (although the No Peak clan does)

Pairing: Yoongi / Reader

Synopsis: Jade has always shaped the island of Kekon. Mined from the mountains, it enhances the abilities of Green Bone warriors who wear it and allows them protection from outside harm. No one understands these threats better than you do, second-in-command of the mighty No Peak clan.

When a new danger appears, seeming to come from within, everything you once took for granted is called into question. Including the bonds you’ve made, some more dangerous than the others. None more so than Min Yoongi, head of No Peak and the only one capable of destroying your heart.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: graphic violence, fight scenes and mature content (character dies in the story; not main character)

NSFW Warnings: dirty talk, nipple play, fingering, spanking, oral (female), multiple orgasms, possessiveness, unprotected sex (couple is monogamous), spit, hand job

Word Count: 17,650

[ Cross-posted to Wattpad here ]

“There’s a rat in our midst,” Jungkook growls, slamming his fist to the table.

No one in the room flinches, although several glance fleetingly in the direction of the Pillar. The typically mild-mannered head of No Peak frowns, clearly disturbed by the recent attacks. Only a madman wouldn’t be.

Still, his voice remains calm while answering your second Fist. “That remains to be seen,” Yoongi says. As though the current situation could be perceived as anything but a threat.

Subtle, you flick a glance towards him, then away. In the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi’s lips curve before smoothing to nothing. Lowering his palms to rest on the table, the ends of his sleeves rise to reveal solid jade.

Leaning back, you survey the table before you. As the Horn of No Peak, it’s your job to defend the clan’s territory – by force, if necessary. Several levels of Green Bone warriors report into you, including your Fingers (the lowest of soldiers) and Fists, your direct reports.

Jungkook became Second Fist only a month prior but already, he’s created a name for himself. An impulsive, somewhat violent name for himself.

In this case though, you happen to agree with him. Not one, but two Lantern Men – commercial patrons of No Peak – have turned up dead in the past week, tortured beyond recognition. Over a week has passed since the first murder and still, there’s no suspect. Neither man was wealthy nor wore jade beyond a single piercing. Each was killed in a different part of town with no family in common. For a week, you’ve been racking your brain for motive and coming up empty.

Peeved by the thought, your fingertips dig into your leather jacket. Perceiving the shift to your aura, Yoongi starts to turn – catching himself just in time and facing forward.

An assortment of Lantern Men, Fists and Luckbringers (the money-making side of the clan) sit around a worn table. All watch the Pillar warily, as though uncertain how this meeting will end.

Tilting his head, strands of dark hair fall across Yoongi’s forehead. Studs of green line his ears, a single bolt of jade threaded through his right brow. Since the Academy, Yoongi has preferred to wear his jade as piercings – except for the clusters on fingers and wrists. He flexes these now, a visual display of power.

Jade from the island of Kekon is powerful; toxic to all but the Green Bones trained to wear it. To them, it grants unique power in each of the six disciplines: Strength, Steel, Perception, Lightness, Deflection and Channeling. Being from Kekon is no guarantee a person can wear and use jade, though. Individual tolerance varies, with most not able to withstand more than a few pieces.

No one in No Peak wears more jade than the Pillar – no one but you, that is.

This thought brings little comfort in a room such as this. Most of the sycophants seated around the table would turn on Yoongi – and No Peak – in a heartbeat. If it’d enrich their coffers, they would switch sides, honor be damned. You trust your Fists and Fingers but find it hard to extend the same grace to Namjoon’s side of the clan.

Kim Namjoon, known as the Weather Man, heads No Peak’s monetary ventures. Ranking as highly as you, he reports directly to Yoongi. Turning to face Namjoon, you make no attempt to hide your suspicion.

Although he doesn’t meet your gaze, his annoyance flares. Namjoon’s jade aura is weaker, fueled by one or two jade rings on his fingers. More would be unnecessary in his line of work. Namjoon’s lips tighten, able to Perceive your attention.

Perception is one of the more interesting skills of a Green Bone. Wearing jade creates an aura and through it, other Green Bones can sense emotion and intention. For example, you sense that Namjoon is annoyed, but you don’t know why. You can hazard a guess, based on the context.

Although you both graduated from the Academy at the same time, you barely knew Namjoon in your youth. The Kim family is legendary, having fought alongside Yoongi’s grandfather to dispel the Shotarian occupation of Kekon. You, on the other hand, moved to the city of Janloon when you were ten and joined the Academy as an outsider.

Not only were your social circles different, so were your interests. Even as children, Namjoon preferred brains over brawn, while you – well, you don’t enjoy violence, but you understood its necessity in protecting those you love. Ever since your father’s death, what you love has been No Peak.

You suppose Yoongi could’ve picked a worse person for Weather Man. Namjoon is shrewd, if occasionally withholding. He has the best interests of the clan at heart, even if you often disagree about what those interests are.

“Min-jen,” Namjoon says, the respectful title flowing from him like water. “I share your frustration with the current situation. My men are, of course, at your disposal.”

Your gaze narrows on his profile. Namjoon loves to offer help but when push comes to shove, it’s your side of the clan on the front lines.

“And what will your men do?” you inquire, drawing heads your way. “The entirety of their green couldn’t be seen in a desert.”

Someone down the table coughs, although they swiftly fall silent when Yoongi clears his throat. Disappointment radiates from him, turning his head.

“One’s worth to the clan isn’t measured in jade,” he says levelly. “You’d do well to remember that, in the future.”

Sitting back, you school your expression to nothing. Shame swirls in your stomach though because Yoongi is right. His sister is a stone-eye; someone unable to use or wear jade. Yejun feels nothing of jade’s effects – either positive or negative – but serves the clan in her own way. Kekon is superstitious about such things though and, when Yejun was born, rumors ran rampant it boded ill for Yoongi’s leadership. Rumors the Pillar has done his best to stamp out.

“Yes, Min-jen,” you acquiesce, inclining your head.

“My Luckbringers are reviewing financial statements of the victims,” Namjoon says, as though you haven’t spoken. “If there’s any monetary connection between them, we’ll find it.”

“My Fists are also investigating,” you add. “We’ll keep the clan updated.”

A scoff from the lower end of the table. Turning your head, you find Mr. Hu, a wealthy Lantern Man, watching you with a scowl. Middle-aged, with a portly belly from hoji, the man has never accepted you as his Horn. As the first woman bestowed the honor, you expected there to be some resistance.

Not that it endears him to you. Sweetly, you smile and lean forward. “Did you have something to add, Mr. Hu?”

Briefly, his gaze drops to the jade around your throat. Forcing a swallow, he forces his gaze to lift. You must give him credit; the man continues, despite the visual reminder you could kill him in seconds.

“Investigating what?” he asks, puffing out his chest. “I saw the second victim being brought in. There was… well. There was little to see. Tortured,” he adds, addressing the muttering around the table. “The man was mercilessly tortured before he was killed.”

Perceiving the shift in Yoongi’s emotions – edging towards fury – you hasten your response.

“Mr. Hu,” you say, lightly resting your hand on a Talon knife. “I thank you, for having the foresight to raise such an important issue.”

Frowning, he glances left and right, but his fellow Lantern Men avoid him. Likely, they understand this won’t end well. Indeed, Jungkook is already eyeing the man with barely concealed malice, thumb stroking slowly over the hilt of his sword.

“The fact that both victims were tortured,” you continue, conversational. “Almost as though the killer were looking for something.”

“Or someone,” Namjoon adds.

“Or someone,” you agree, focusing on Mr. Hu. “My men are searching the murder sites for more information now. While they do that though, are there any other details of an active murder investigation you’d like to know? Perhaps whether the victims pissed themselves before death, or left money behind?”

Paling, Mr. Hu seems to realize how this sounds. “N-no,” he says. “Thank you for sharing what you have, Horn-jen.”

Ignoring him, you glance in the direction of Yoongi. “We’ll find the traitor. I swear it.”

His aura flares, full of emotion unrelated to the conversation at hand. “Of that, I have no doubt,” Yoongi says lowly.

Heat floods your face, sensing his intent and swiftly, you look away before others can notice.

“While the Horn and Weather Man conduct their investigations, I ask for everyone to remain on high alert,” Yoongi says, surveying the table. “No Peak will increase Green Bone presence in the border districts. If you see anything of interest, contact the clan.”

Several Lantern Men relax at the mention of Green Bones. You know business has been hard as of late, with so many customers shaken by the violence. Hopefully, this will convince the people No Peak has the situation in hand. Otherwise, why would the Lantern Men continue to pay for your protection?

Glancing at the bloody photographs laid out on the table, you can hardly blame them for their skittishness. Whoever killed these two victims was skilled. Their torture tactics are pristine, better than most graduates from the Academy. A skill you also possess, although you choose not to use it outside of last resorts. Even then –

Your fingers cease tapping against your leather jacket. Straightening, you realize the skill displayed is exactly that of the Academy. The cuts, the angle of the blade and depth of the wounds – all of it, textbook. A Green Bone did this, you’re certain.

Sharply, you glance up and allow your distress to show. Voicing your suspicion aloud would only end badly. Above all, the Pillar must appear in control. If a Green Bone – even a disgraced one – is murdering citizens of No Peak, it would be a disaster. Better to discuss your suspicions in private before airing them to the entire group.

Perceiving the shift in your emotions, Yoongi stiffens. “We’ll update you with any new information,” he says, dismissal clear in his tone. “Thank you for coming.”

Chair legs scrape floorboards, patrons filing out as they murmur to one another. Asha, your First Fist, hovers by the door until you give a discreet shake of your head. Nodding, she slips out and you see Jungkook follow.

To one side, Yoongi converses tersely with his Pillarman, Hoseok, until Hoseok exhales and swiftly exits the room. Kim Namjoon stays, drinking a glass of water at the opposite end of the table. Once you three are alone, Yoongi holds up his hand. He waits, utterly still until the last jade aura fades.

Only then does he turn. “Well, Y/N?” he drawls. “What did you realize?”

Not wasting time, you pluck a photograph from the pile and toss it before him. “These cuts,” you explain. “They were made by a moon blade. So precise – so even. Exactly the length taught at the Academy. Which means–”

“Shit,” Namjoon mutters. He sets down his glass. “We’re fucked.”

You give him a look. “Precisely.”

Yoongi frowns, his distaste palpable. “This is the work of a Green Bone.”

“I think so.”

Pushing his chair back to stand, Namjoon grabs a photo and turns it sideways. “Why would a Green Bone go after a Lantern Man, though?” he wonders out loud. “He wasn’t even wearing jade when he died – it’s against aisho.”

Yoongi’s lips press tightly together.

Aisho refers to the strict code of honor governing all who wear jade. There are many tenets, but first and foremost is that those who wear jade don’t harm the jadeless. Aisho also limits retaliation following honorable duels, ensuring the clan lines remain intact.

A Green Bone who follows aisho would never attack a citizen.

Which forces you to draw an unsavory conclusion. “Unless they didn’t care,” you say, voicing the worst possibility. “The killer could have been trained as a Green Bone and left.” Stiffening slightly, you glance at Yoongi. “You don’t think…”

“I do,” Yoongi mutters. His jaw clenches, then unclenches. “Maro.”

Namjoon swears softly.

Maro – known to most as Toh Marosun – is a traitor to No Peak. He grew up in the same circle as Namjoon, Yoongi, and other high-ranking Green Bones. Maro attended the Academy in the same class as Yoongi, and everyone expected him to become the Horn. Brilliant, swift, and vicious in battle – not to mention one of Yoongi’s closest friends.

Despite this fact, you never liked him. Having grown up the only daughter of an unremarkable Lantern Man, you experienced Maro the way most people did. Toh Marosun was cruel. Saccharine, willing to say whatever people in power wanted to hear. Maro knew exactly what to do, what to say to manipulate followers. From the beginning, you saw Maro for who he was – a bully.

He joined No Peak’s ranks as a Finger, but swiftly rose to prominence. By the time you graduated, Maro was the youngest Fist in No Peak’s history. What he lacked in jade tolerance he made up for in cunning. Maro was always more sensitive to jade, but he was also smart. Talented, with the skills he did have.

In Green Bone society, there are two ways to gain jade – gifted or earned. Green Bones win jade through physical duels, taking the green from those they defeat. Recklessly, Maro began to challenge rival clans and often, he won despite not being able to wear his spoils. He displayed his jade often, which you suppose should’ve been the first warning sign.

Maro cared too much for personal glory. In Kekon, glory is achieved through the clan. Even the Horn and the Weather Man only exist to further No Peak’s prowess. The Pillar themselves is the embodiment of the clan, not their own person.

Even now, you recall the day Maro’s crimes were exposed.

Seven years prior, you were a Finger on routine patrol when Sain, your Fist, was commanded to return to the Min property. He brought you along, stationed by the front gate to ensure no one left.

You guarded with another Finger, one whose name you don’t recall. What you do remember is the utter stillness of the day, the unnatural calm which comes before a storm. The sun was bright overhead, a thick bead of sweat sliding down your neck when the door behind you at the main house banged open.

A man tumbled down the steps, landing in a heap in the billowing dirt. Coughing, he struggled to right himself, but both his hands were bound. From your spot at the gate, you couldn’t see clearly but you scented his blood. Heard the bruised rasp of his breath.

Yoongi prowled down the front steps, his famed Da Tanori steel glinting in his right hand. His gaze never wavered from the man bound before him – Toh Marosun, his former friend.

“Do you deny it?” Yoongi asked, his voice soft but deadly. Despite this, you Perceived conflicting emotions within.

Toh Maro stayed silent. Eventually, he exhaled.

“No,” he said sullenly.

Unable to stop it, you turned and saw Maro staring unflinchingly up at the Pillar. Yoongi stood over him, his lips a thin line of displeasure. You didn’t know what had happened but feared the worst from Yoongi’s expression.

In that moment, you didn’t envy the Pillar. Yoongi had become head of No Peak only a year prior; in many ways, he was as untried as you were. He was a silent, intelligent man and many people thought they could take advantage of him.

They were wrong, of course, but it would take time to prove that.

On that day though, you felt the dull grief to his aura. “Then I am sorry,” Yoongi said quietly. “For you leave me with no choice. Toh Marosun, you stand accused of smuggling jade from No Peak – one of the worst crimes a Green Bone can commit.”

The entirety of your blood drained as you turned around.

Spine steeling, you gripped your knives tighter. There were few crimes so awful they couldn’t be forgiven, but stealing from the clan was one of them. Cutting off Maro’s ear would be too light a punishment, especially with Yoongi so untried a Pillar. Death would be acceptable. Expected, even.

It would be the Pillar’s call – the clans weren’t run as a democracy. Straining Perception, you listened closely behind you. Although you’d interacted little with the Pillar, the man behind the mask couldn’t help but intrigue you.

Broken sobs filled the clearing, and you heard the sudden thud of knees hitting the grass. No jade aura accompanied the sound.

“Yoongi, please,” gasped a voice – feminine, young. “Brother, please spare him. Don’t kill him, he –”

“Silence.” Yoongi’s voice echoed over the courtyard. The newcomer obeyed with a lone, stifled sob. “You’ve been found innocent, sister,” he said, sounding weary. “But that does not make you innocent.”

The threat of his words hung overhead and although Yejun continued to sniffle, the sound of it muffled. When you glanced sideways again, you saw her face in her palms.

Yoongi watched dispassionately, although you sensed his inner turmoil. Rumors had reached your ears by then that Maro was dating Yejun. It seemed to be true, based on the way she pleaded.

Returning to face the gate, the yard remained silent until Yoongi exhaled. “Toh Marosun,” he declared, his sword sheathing. “From this day on, you are banished from Kekon. Return your jade to the clan and go. If you return to Janloon, your life is forfeit. Take him,” he said, speaking to someone you couldn’t see.

You didn’t dare turn, but tugged your knives a half-inch from their sheathes. If Maro decided to fight, you’d be expected to protect the Pillar. For whatever reason – disbelief, or respect – Maro didn’t attack, and no violence took place. He left in the waiting car, but you’ll never forget the look on his face when he passed.

Despite your young age, you recognized the glint in his eye. Fury, tempered by disbelief. He’ll be back, you thought grimly. It was only a matter of time before someone like Maro declared vengeance.

Your gaze slid to Yoongi, wondering if he felt the same. He watched Maro leave, his expression carefully neutral before he turned around and entered the house. Yejun had already disappeared, likely leaving upon Maro’s banishment.

The expression on Yoongi’s face now is similar, staring down at the photograph. Another moment passes before you realize something else.

“They knew each other,” you say, glancing between the victims. Reaching out, your hand lightly touches a photo. “Icho Retubin. He worked for the Weather Man after the Academy. And this man here” – you touch the other – “Niru Roluan. A low-ranking Finger who quit after a year.”

“He was friendly with Marosun,” Namjoon recalls.

“Yes.” Eyes wide, you look up. “After Maro’s scheme was uncovered, both of them quit and began working as Lantern Men.”

“Interesting,” Yoongi muses. “So. Toh Marosun returns. He tortures and kills his former friends – why?” he murmurs, speaking more to himself than either of you.

Brow lowering, you search for the easy answer. “He’s torturing them for something,” you say, glancing at the wounds. “Information, maybe.”

Yoongi tilts his head. “Which begs the question – has Maro found what he wants, or is he still looking?”

“Does it matter?”

Namjoon shrugs at your question. “If Maro hasn’t found what he wants, he’ll strike again. If he did find it – well. We might be out of time.”

Yoongi considers. “He didn’t find it,” he says, turning around to stride for the door. “Call it a gut feeling.”

Your gaze narrows on his backside. “Let’s call it more than that.”

Yoongi turns around, lips twitching in a smile only you see. “I can think of two reasons Maro might return. One – jade.” The Pillar lifts a finger. “Or, two – revenge.” His second lifts.

You and Namjoon exchange a look. “Maro could find jade on the Shotarian black market if he wanted,” you say.

“Exactly.” Yoongi drops his hand. “Which is why I’m inclined to call this revenge.”

“Maro could want revenge on anyone, though,” Namjoon points out. “Most likely whoever sold him out in the first place.”

“Well, that makes this easier.” Casual, Yoongi tucks both hands in his pockets. “I sold him out. I discovered details of his jade smuggling in Yejun’s apartment.”

“Yejun?” Sharply, you look at him. “Your sister knew?”

Yoongi’s gaze hardens. “Yes, she knew,” he says. “I’m sure you understand why I kept that piece of information to myself until now. Yejun wasn’t involved with the smuggling, but she knew it was happening… and didn’t tell me,” he adds, his voice grim.

Mind reeling, you attempt to digest this piece of information. Betrayal lodges deep in your gut, although you do your best to dispel it. It’s pointless to expect Yoongi to tell you everything – especially events which occurred before you became the Horn.

Namjoon also looks troubled. “That’s… but that means–”

“Careful what you say, Namjoon.” Although his tone remains soft, Yoongi’s body tenses. “The matter is done. I punished Yejun as I saw fit, within my right as Pillar. Trust me,” he adds, his façade cracking a little. “Her deception was dealt with.”

Silently, you wonder if this is why Yejun studied in Espenia. As a stone-eye, she can’t serve the clan as a Green Bone, but could have taken other paths. She could have become a Luckbringer on Namjoon’s side or begun a career in government. Instead, Yejun left Janloon for a foreign University. It was only recently she returned to start her residency at Jan Royal University.

Curious, your gaze flicks to Yoongi. If what he says is true, then surely, he knows Maro is coming for him. Yejun might not have betrayed him, but Min Yoongi did. It’s only a matter of time before Maro discovers what happened.

Blood simmering, you do your best to hide your frustration. Your role as Horn would be much easier if the Pillar would be honest about all his enemies. Suppressing your scowl, you ignore the heat of Yoongi’s gaze on the side of your face.

“Namjoon,” he says, turning away. “I want a list of potential targets. People Maro has worked with in the past or knew at the Academy. Assuming he doesn’t have the information he wants, Maro will strike again.”

“On it,” Namjoon says, already heading for the door.

Although faint, you can feel the cool brush of his aura passing. You envy the Weather Man’s ability to ingest information and remove partiality. Even after something like Yejun’s betrayal, he remains unflappable. Namjoon simply absorbs and executes, doing what needs to be done.

Left alone with your thinking, you can’t claim the same. Namjoon’s jade aura fades when he exits, footsteps receding to leave you alone with the Pillar.

You refuse to look at him, casting your Perception outward. A Green Bone with as much jade as you have can Perceive a beetle crawling through the tall grass outside. Feel the rumble of cars on the distant streets. Hear Yoongi’s heart beat from across the room.

Wearing jade results in a dizzying expansion of knowledge. You’re used to it by now – years of training and genetics lessen the risk of being overwhelmed. Without either, it’s all too easy to lose control.

It’s one of the reasons jade-smuggling is a serious crime. The other being that jade is the main source of income funding the clans. Selling jade through non-regulated channels increases the risk of it falling into the wrong hands. Hands which could bring negative consequences to other people or themselves.

Aisho outlines a strict Green Bone code of honor. It states Kekon first, clan first, family first. Occasionally, all three are tied and occasionally, one outstrips the other. Maro disobeyed every rule by selling jade to the Shotarians.

Maro knew all this and chose to continue, blinded by greed. He placed his personal glory above that of the clan, something which must be dealt with. To a lesser degree, Yejun chose Maro over No Peak, as well – which is why you’re surprised Yoongi said nothing.

“Y/N.”

Yoongi speaks your name softly, forgoing your title.

Stiffening, you force yourself not to turn. “Don’t call me that.”

“What?” he asks, his voice moving closer. “Your name?”

Hand brushing your elbow, Yoongi turns you to face him. Against all better judgement, you obey – and find your first mistake. Meeting his gaze, a ripple of familiarity – of home, a voice whispers – goes through you.

Shutting all this down, you lift your chin. “You lied to me.”

Yoongi’s expression flattens. “I couldn’t explain.”

“You could have. You chose not to.”

“I couldn’t,” he insists. “I’m still not sure I didn’t make a mistake. I showed mercy, Y/N.” Yoongi pauses, then swallows. “I exiled my friend and sent my sister away – and now, look what’s happened. Two men have been killed, and it’s my fault. How could I have told you,” he adds, the words desperate, “when I knew it’d result in that look on your face?”

“I’m looking at you like this because you lied. Not because of a decision you made in the past. Mercy isn’t a weakness, Min Yoongi.”

“Some would say that it is,” he murmurs. Fleeting, his gaze drops to your lips.

Yoongi drops all restraint so his emotion, so often concealed, smears through his aura. Longing, anger and fear, mixed with worry.

White-hot electricity jumps over your skin. Seeing the normally reserved Pillar undone in your presence is a heady knowledge. Knowledge that terrifies you, even as everything in you aches to move closer.

“It’s not,” you exhale, meeting his gaze.

Something falters in his expression and Yoongi stares at you, heated. You Perceive his intent – a rough flare to his aura – a moment before Yoongi bends and crushes your mouth to his. His kiss is thorough, intent, his body curving with yours while walking you towards the wall.

You instantly cave, unable to withstand the desperate sweep of his tongue. “Yoongi,” you groan, fingers gripping him tighter. “People will hear.”

“Let them,” he says, his voice undeterred.

Before you can respond, his lips fall upon yours with increasing urgency. Hand slipping beneath your jacket, Yoongi cups your waist to pull you taut against him. Eyes falling shut, you swiftly scan the building for lingering Green Bones. Finding no one, you return your attention to Yoongi and bite down on his lip.

He growls, grip tightening when you tug him towards you. Breaking away, Yoongi lowers his head to suck the curve of your throat. He lingers at your jade, tongue darting out to lick the skin underneath. Your entire body shudders, aroused by the sensation.

Touching another person’s jade is intimate. Most wouldn’t allow their own family the honor, let alone someone they sleep with. Skin contact with jade imbues power, and the swift rise and fall of it can be dangerous. Only Yoongi is brave – or foolish – enough to risk the effects.

Spine on the wall, you inhale at the rush. Yoongi’s length presses against your core, already hard through the confines of his pants. It seems unfathomable that this man, a stranger to you for so long, can inspire such potent emotion.

When you first met him, you were ten, and he was fourteen. You didn’t know who Yoongi was at the time – a fact which now seems unthinkable. Raised in southern Kekon, you came to Janloon after your mother’s death with little understanding of clan politics. Likely, you would have remained so if your high jade tolerance hadn’t pushed your father to enroll you at the Academy.

Walking through the gates that first day, you found nothing but apathy. The best-case scenario was your classmates left you alone. Worst-case, the other children were brutal. You attended school with the sons and daughters of high-ranking clan members. Although your father joined No Peak as a Lantern Man eventually, he could hardly be called successful. The Academy had no patience for a rural girl whose jade tolerance far outstripped their own.

It wore on your classmates’ pride when the teachers praised you. You began to get noticed, and not in a good way. Fed up with your presence, one of the students attacked you at the end of your first year. Even then, you knew how to defend yourself and flipped him on his back. Stunned, he stared up at you before yelling to anyone within earshot that you’d regret this. His father was a powerful Lantern Man of No Peak and he said you’d be banished before graduation.

Fear gripped you, sensing the truth to his words. Based on your own experience, you knew No Peak wouldn’t believe you over one of their own.

Despair filled your thoughts as someone entered the corridor. Your attacker instantly froze, which should have clued you in this was someone important. Still, you refused to look, reticent to turn your back on an opponent.

The newcomer cleared their throat, further stoking your ire. After a moment, you dragged your attention to them.

Min Yoongi stared back, his expression mild. “So,” he said. “Who can tell me what happened?”

Looking him up and down, you chose not to respond. You didn’t trust a stranger – a fourth year at that – to intervene on your behalf. Most likely, Yoongi was a member of No Peak and had only arrived to harass you further.

Seeing your hesitance, your attacker jumped in. He accused you of treachery, saying you jumped him in the corridor and threw him on the ground. Silent, your fingers curled into fists, but you remained quiet, even when Yoongi turned.

“Well?” he asked you. “Is that right?”

Your lips dropped into a scowl. “He deserved what he got.”

Subtle, his brow flicked upward.

To your dismay, you saw people had gathered as whispers broke out. A sinking suspicion occurred to you that something was wrong. Not with your attacker, but whoever this was.

Yoongi stared at you for a long moment before, to your surprise, he chuckled. “I agree.” Turning to face the boy, a dangerous light entered his eye. “I’d suggest not telling your father what happened, Heike. Because then, I might feel honor-bound to confess what I saw. Which was his son ruthlessly attack a first year, lose and then lie about it to his future Pillar.”

Color bled swiftly from Heike’s skin. “Yes, Min-jen,” he whispered, head bowed in shame.

Panic-stricken, you stared as realization sunk in you’d been flippant to the future Pillar. Steeling yourself, you waited for Min Yoongi’s response – likely anger or worse. Based on your experience, most men in power liked this fact to be known.

Instead, Yoongi merely turned and looked you up and down. His gaze traveled you slowly, unreadable in his scrutiny. At last, he glanced up.

“Your father owns the tea shop by the docks, yes?” he said, waiting for you to nod before he continued. “He joined No Peak as a Lantern Man last year.”

“Yes, he did.”

His lips twitched. “Well, then,” Yoongi said as he turned away. “I can’t help but be grateful he chose No Peak to patron. It would’ve been shame to lose you to another clan.”

Stricken, you watched as he strode from the courtyard. Minutes passed, and eventually you realized the crowd had dispersed. Heike skulked off to nurse his wounds and the future Pillar had gone, giving them no reason to stay.

If you weren’t loyal to No Peak before, you certainly were after. Yoongi had that type of effect on people.

After that day though, you rarely interacted. Yoongi was four years your senior and the future Pillar, while you were nobody. Albeit a talented nobody who graduated at the top of their class from the Academy. At your graduation, people whispered you’d make a strong Fist. No one ever imagined you’d rise higher than that.

You joined No Peak as a Finger, starting from the bottom. Yoongi continued to remain out of reach, the newly named Pillar struggling to earn his own title. It didn’t take long though, before you rose in the ranks. You spent two years as a Finger, then two as a Fist – you were twenty-two years old when promoted to Horn. The youngest in history, and a woman to boot.

Yoongi was adamant in the choice, defending you calmly to the entire clan. He said he’d rather have the right person at a young age than the wrong person at the right age. His support was the only reason you didn’t strangle him that first year. It was the beginning of working together and as it turned out, Yoongi drove you mad.

He micromanaged, overseeing all decisions to ensure No Peak ran smoothly. You two bickered often, the fire eventually dissipating to begrudging acceptance. Ultimately, you realized you saw the world the same – No Peak first, followed by everything else.

Back then, Yoongi dated but none of them stuck. No one understood the sacrifice necessary to remain head of No Peak. Couldn’t comprehend the ruthlessness, the dedication it took to lead the clan. Yoongi could never let his guard down, could never relax with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

You understood, though, because you shared this burden. Yoongi could be honest with you in a way he couldn’t be elsewhere. To the rest of the clan, he was the infallible Pillar, but to you, he was only a man.

Proof of said manhood hardens against your thigh, and Yoongi’s lips curve gamely at the base of your throat. Head lifting, his smile is sharp enough to carve the remaining bit of your heart.

“You left early this morning,” he observes, his gaze dimming. “Why?”

Your eyes trace his lips before lifting to his face. “Hian called in sick, so I replaced his watch. My Fists are spread thin, Yoongi.”

A wrinkle forms between his brows. “You should’ve woken me.”

“Why?” you tease, your hand sliding lower to rest above his hip. “To watch me go? You needed your sleep.”

“I needed you more.”

Yoongi’s words still your fingertips, struck by his honesty. Min Yoongi is nothing if not blunt, leaving you often speechless. What began as just sex, mounting frustration between friends, has become something almost too tenuous to name. The idea of having him scares you nearly as much as the prospect of losing him.

“You had me last night,” you murmur.

Yoongi’s fingers drift across your cheek. “And yet,” he says, unwilling to let you off the hook. “I woke up ravenous.”

Multiple meanings layer his words, some of which you purposefully choose not to hear. Instead, you glance past him to search the grounds. Several Green Bones cross the lawn, none of them close enough to overhear. Still, it reminds you of what’s at stake.

Exhaling gently, you pull from his touch. “I should go,” you tell him.

Head tilted, Yoongi’s dark hair conceals the jade in his brow. His brow wrinkles when he Perceives your tumultuous emotions.

“You’re worried,” he says.

“Of course, I am,” you say with a frustrated laugh. “I’m your Horn, Yoongi. It’s my job to protect the clan – to protect you – and right now, it feels like I’m failing.”

His gaze on you sharpens. “First off, I can protect myself. Second – it’s my job as Pillar to protect the clan. How can you protect us from something I can’t see?”

“How many times do I have to say you don’t shoulder that burden alone?”

The lines around his mouth deepen. “In good times, I’m lauded. It only follows that in bad times, I’m the one at fault.”

“Oh, if that’s all,” you say drily. “I, for one, have never lauded you.”

“Oh, really?” Stepping closer, his expression shifts from frustration to carnal. “I seem to recall differently last night.”

Electricity catches each place his gaze lingers, shivering its way down your spine. Refusing to let him notice, you lift your chin higher. “You’d have to remind me. It all blurs together.”

Yoongi bares his teeth, and you can’t help but smile. If there’s one thing the Pillar of No Peak can’t resist, it’s a challenge. The start of your relationship is proof enough of that.

After your promotion to Horn, you spent most waking hours by Yoongi’s side. Working with him was exhausting. Every decision turned into an argument. How many Fists you should have. How many students to admit to the Academy. Whether you should train with the Kekonese military or not.

Yoongi constantly occupied space in your thoughts, and not in a good way. He frustrated you, forcing you to second-guess and slow down your thought process. Maddeningly, he was often correct, which only served to further your irritation.

Eventually, things began to shift. Bickering turned to acceptance and finally, understanding. Yoongi trusted you more often to make the right calls and in turn, you snapped at him less for his input. Your arguments dwindled, then disappeared altogether.

Three years passed as Horn, and soon your frustration gave way to a different kind. You started to notice when Min Yoongi entered the room. At first, you brushed it off as nothing. Yoongi had an undeniable presence, this was true. Soon though, you realized your thoughts breached the border of friendship.

His absence could be felt like a phantom limb. Yoongi’s jade aura comforted you despite its fierceness – so at odds with the calm way he carried himself.

Idly, you wondered what it would take for him to snap. To release his infamous self-control and fully give in. Thoughts of what Yoongi would feel like left your body scorched. On more than one occasion, you awoke with an ache between your legs and a dream of his face slipping away.

Such thoughts though, were dangerous. Yoongi was the Pillar, and you were his Horn – a relationship couldn’t happen and what’s more, he’d shown no interest. You began to withdraw out of self-preservation. Prior, you sparred with Yoongi every morning but soon found yourself making excuses to skip.

What was once daily practice turned into every week and then, once a month. Yoongi was a distraction you could ill-afford, disarming you with his laughter as easily as his sword.

Instead, you forced your attention on training your Fists. Firstday through Fifthday, you met Asha and Jungkook at the gym before dawn. This went on for months, training in secret until one day you exited and saw Yoongi’s car at the curb. Stomach sinking, you watched as he reversed and sped down the street.

Perceiving tumultuous emotion, you knew confrontation was inevitable but hoped Yoongi would give you time to process.

He did not.

Instead, Yoongi pounded on your door the very next morning. When you finally answered, he tossed a practice sword your way and demanded you dress.

Shaking free of your stupor, you glared at Yoongi a moment before slamming the door. Stalking inside, you threw gear in a bag and returned to the hall. Stomping past him, you refused to acknowledge Yoongi, throwing open the door to his Duchesse Priza.

Yoongi sped to his place in silence, tension churning between you like water beneath a ferry. At his gym, you stormed out and ripped the sword from its sheath. Yoongi followed closely behind, barely leashed emotion rolling off him in waves.

You flew at him first, your body Light, and then Strong while swinging towards his head. Moving through the various jade disciplines, you relied on training hammered into your bones. Yoongi caught a blow on his forearm, Steeling his skin to avoid any damage. The two of you entered a familiar rhythm, understanding the other in ways no one else could.

It must’ve been hours before you threw down your sword and declared the match ended. Yoongi simply stared, his chest heaving with a wild spark in his eyes.

You were turning to leave when he dropped his blade, strode across the clearing and crushed your mouth to his.

Five months have passed since. Your relationship has been kept a secret, with you unwilling to place any labels. People would talk if the Horn and Pillar were dating. You don’t want that for yourself. Not when you’ve worked so hard for credibility.

Pressing his thumb to your lower lip, Yoongi drags it lower before he releases. “I’ll have to remind you, then,” he says before stepping away. The heat dissipates from his gaze, leaving you cold. “But you’re right. I should go.”

Somewhat dazed, you feel yourself nod. This is what you wanted, you remind yourself. This is exactly what you asked for, so you have no right to feel abandoned.

“Send me the list Namjoon makes,” you say, forcing lightness to your tone. “I’ll send Green Bones to watch their houses.”

Yoongi opens his mouth, then seems to think better of it and merely nods. He stays silent when you leave, brushing past him to the hall. Outside, you pause on the landing before you continue.

His jade aura fades as you exit, letting you know he remains. You do your best to ignore him, flipping your keys as you stride towards your car – not as nice as Yoongi’s, but serviceable nonetheless. Yanking open the door, you slide onto the sticky-warm gray leather seat.

Exhaling, you stare at the wheel before shifting to drive. Lowering the windows, you allow a slight breeze to drift over your face. As much as you pretend to be happy with the current situation, you’re not. You aren’t stupid – you know your feelings for Yoongi extend beyond those of a Horn to their Pillar.

When you first became Horn, you respected Yoongi. He was a good leader – still is – and you were proud to be the person strengthening No Peak by his side. Now, he’s the closest thing you have to family. Deep down, you understand his pardon of Yejun. If you were in a similar situation, there’s nothing Yoongi could do that you wouldn’t forgive.

Especially now, with your father dead. It happened soon after graduation, a sudden collapse of his heart no one saw coming. Yoongi attended his funeral. It was held on a rain soaked Seventhday after the Autumn Festival. Late in the season for a deluge but fitting for the occasion. It felt like the world was wiped clean, along with your prior life.

For the Pillar to attend was unusual, but not unprecedented. You recall him standing near the back, his Pillarman, Hoseok, at his side. The funeral was short – your father wasn’t garrulous by any means – but rain soaked your dress by the time it had ended. It surprised you when Yoongi came to express his sorrow, even more so when he seemed to mean it. Most people didn’t. Most people came for the spectacle, or to say they were there.

Yoongi though, gripped your hand tightly while meeting your gaze. His calluses were as rough as your own when he said the clan would support you. Oddly enough, you believed him.

With both parents dead, and no siblings, No Peak is the only family you have. Yoongi’s life is similar to yours, apart from Yejun. His father died of cancer when he was twenty-one and his mother soon followed, unable to cope. Yoongi knows what loss means, what it feels like to be alone.

Lips tightening, you imagine what it’d feel like to lose him. Worse than a Horn should feel when they lose a Pillar. Silent, you curse yourself for having poor foresight. There’s a reason the Horn and Pillar don’t date. A reason why such a relationship would be forbidden. It’s your job to protect the clan – not just Yoongi – but if it came down to it, you’d choose him every time.

Weaving through the bustling streets of Janloon, your speed is forced to slow. Janloon, the capital city of Kekon, is full of contractions. The latest car models pass beneath flashing billboards, coupled with street stalls and sprawling temples. Scents of the city mingle with stale AC from your car.

No matter how much time passes, Kekon stubbornly clings to its roots. Portions of the outside world may infiltrate, but they’ll never replace. This is something Green Bones and the clans understand.

Traffic forces you to park a block away from your destination. Striding towards the Twice Lucky, you nod at a few Lantern Men idling outside. Asha and Jungkook wait for you in a private room, lounging in seats around the square table. The second floor of the Twice Lucky has been reserved for Green Bones; a privilege No Peak ensures is well-compensated.

Jungkook sits in his usual spot, arms crossed and feet up. Asha is restless, fingertips drumming against the hilt of her blade. Food and water are laid out, half-eaten as though there were others here before.

Sensing your presence, your first Fist looks up. “Y/N-jen.” Asha straightens. “Any news?”

Crossing the room, you scan the building but Perceive no other Green Bones. Sinking into a chair, you pull a plate closer and pick up red chopsticks.

Jungkook turns towards you. “What’d you discuss with the Pillar? Seemed important.”

Asha gives him a warning look, to which he only shrugs.

Ignoring them both, you stab a dumpling. “We suspect the killings were done by a Green Bone. Do you remember Toh Marosun?”

Asha’s head whips in your direction. Jungkook was at the Academy during Maro’s betrayal, but Asha was there and remembers how it went down. If Maro has returned, it’s only a matter of time before things get worse.

“Of course, we remember.” Her eyes narrow. “So, it’s really him? Maro came back?”

“Maybe.” You hesitate another moment, then finish the dumpling. “It’s only a guess.”

“A pretty good guess, if you’re telling us,” Jungkook muses. “Why come back now, though? Returning to Kekon is a death sentence.”

“Is it?” Asha fights a smirk. “Everyone knew Yejun had a thing for Maro.”

Casual, you retrieve a talon knife from its sheath. You begin cleaning the blade, the weapon a natural extension of your wrist, and feel Asha and Jungkook’s gazes follow.

“I don’t think that’s relevant, do you?” you say calmly. “Not unless you’re questioning the Pillar’s judgement.”

Asha looks away, miffed. “No, jen,” she mutters. “Of course, not.”

“Good.” You pause, allowing your fury to seep into your aura. “The Pillar deserves nothing less than your respect. Which means Jungkook is right – coming back here is a death sentence, begging the question of why.”

Jungkook considers. “Maybe he left something.”

Asha turns back, the moment of tension forgotten. “He could be after his jade,” she offers. “Maro was always thin-blooded, so if it’s jade he wants, this could get bad. He could come down with the Itches.”

Sheathing your knife, you look up. “I agree. Maro might not be in his right mind.”

“What should we do?”

“Nothing for now,” you tell her. “Namjoon is compiling a list of people Maro knew. If he hasn’t found what he’s after by now, he could strike again.”

Asha nods and accepts this. Pushing aside a twinge of regret, you wish you could explain the rest. If Yoongi is a target though, it’s best to keep that fact quiet. And as much as you’d like to blame the Luckbringers, you have no way of knowing who’s helping Maro – either by will or by force.

A phone rings on the lower level, barely audible over the din. The Twice Lucky restaurant doesn’t have the best food in Janloon, but the quality is good, and its owner is loyal. The same can’t be said for other places.

Footsteps pound on the staircase, and Jungkook springs to his feet. Before you can warn him, the door opens and Mr. Une, the proprietor, freezes in place.

“Put that away,” you demand, waving for Jungkook to lower his knife.

Eyes wide, Mr. Une stares while your Second Fist sheaths his weapon. Seating himself at the table, Jungkook kicks both feet up like nothing has happened. The third-highest amount of jade in the clan lies coiled about his neck, polished stones resting against his tan skin.

Mr. Une continues to stare, wary until you pointedly clear your throat. “Uncle,” you say, adopting the deferential. “What can we do for you?”

Somewhat placated, Mr. Une turns his head. “Phone call for you, Horn-jen. The Weather Man said it’s urgent. You can use the phone in my office if you’d like.”

Smile disappearing, you stand. “Lead the way.”

Mr. Une blinks, and you realize you’ve crossed the room in less time than it took Jungkook to draw his knife. Inwardly, you sigh and attempt to appear harmless. The citizens of Janloon are used to living with Green Bones but sometimes, your power is a reminder of what they are not. Of the inherent danger of living amongst latent gods.

Following Mr. Une, you head towards his office. Asha and Jungkook walk close behind, with Jungkook at the rear and Asha by your side. Mr. Une hovers awkwardly at the door before turning around and pushing into the kitchen.

Once he’s gone, you lift the phone. “Hello?” you say.

Namjoon’s voice barks in your ear. “Get back to the Min property. Now.”

Your stomach drops. “What happened?”

“Maro struck again,” he says tightly. “It’s definitely Maro – and the victim is still alive.”

“Who is it?” you ask, expecting the worst.

“Jio Reubin. He managed to escape and made it here, but he’s injured. This is our best chance to get information.”

“On my way,” you say, and hang up.

Taking a deep breath, you allow the reality of Namjoon’s words to wash over you. Jio is hurt, meaning you need to interrogate soon in case he dies. Nausea curdles your stomach, and you try to dispel it.

Guilt wars with relief from knowing Yoongi is safe. You’ve met Jio several times, having attended the Academy with his now-wife, Lula. She never took to the bloodier side of the clan, deciding to enter the medical profession instead. If you remember correctly, she’s in the same resident program as Yejun.

Leaving the office, you nod for Jungkook to follow. He falls into step beside you. “I need you to do something for me,” you say to Asha. “Head to Jio Reubin’s and search the area for Maro. Call me if you find anything.”

She nods and turns, disappearing out the side door.

You and Jungkook exit the front, squinting when you emerge in the golden hour. “Follow me to the Min property,” you say grimly.

Jungkook nods as he turns, aura pulsing with adrenaline while growing fainter. You should warn him to be cautious but know it’d be hypocritical. Your own car’s speed is nearly twice the limit as you rush through the streets of Janloon, returning to the gates of the Min property.

Screeching to a halt, you yank keys from the ignition and sprint across the courtyard. Namjoon’s aura pulses from the main house, so you follow the trail and shove open the door.

Namjoon doesn’t look up when you enter, and you immediately see why. Jio lies splayed on the sofa, right arm dangling listlessly from a red cushion. At first, you think that’s the color before you notice the blood darkening Jio’s chest.

Kneeling at his side, Namjoon’s jaw clenches while attempting to Channel. Usually, Channeling is used to rend the body apart but in certain circumstances, it can be used to hold it together. Namjoon doesn’t wear much jade though and wasn’t trained as a healer.

“Allow me,” Jungkook says from behind you.

Dropping to his knees, he replaces Namjoon to clasp Jio’s hand in his. Closing his eyes, a thick vein pulses in the side of his neck. Despite Jungkook’s wish to enter the bloodier side of the clan, he would’ve made an excellent healer. His ability to Channel is better than anyone else in No Peak.

Jio’s aura, previously guttering, gradually smooths. Namjoon sits back on his heels, clearly spent from the effort. Wiping sweat from his brow, he turns to see you.

“Close the door,” he says faintly.

Reaching out, you obey and cross to stand by his side. Staring at Jio, you take in his bloodied state. Whoever tortured him was thorough, cutting just deep enough to let him slowly bleed out.

It’s a miracle Jio escaped, no matter how slowly his chest rises and falls. When you cross your arms, he coughs and cracks open one eye. Dazedly, Jio registers your presence.

“Horn-jen,” he rasps.

Briskly, you nod. “You’re going to be fine, Jio.”

Straining Perception, you sweep the ground for Yoongi but find him far away. Good. The further he is from this carnage, the better.

Glancing back, you seek Namjoon. “What happened?”

“Maro was waiting when Jio got home from his night shift. His wife had already left for the hospital. Maro knocked out Jio, tied him up and when he came to, started torturing him for intel. Jio managed to escape but hasn’t said how. Couple of Fingers found him in the Temple District.”

Your gaze moves to Jio. “Maro escaped?”

“Yeah,” he responds.

Stomach tight, you consider the options. Either Maro is still searching for whatever he’s after, or he found out from Jio and –

From across the property comes a surge of fury. No one else seems to notice, but that doesn’t surprise you. You’re more attuned to Yoongi’s aura than anyone present. Keeping your expression neutral, you know you don’t have much time until Yoongi arrives.

“What did he want to know?” you demand. “Did he –”

The door to the room flies open and hits the wall. The Pillar strides in, adjusting his cuffs as he goes. Yoongi’s dark hair is slicked, clothing immaculate as always. Heat curls in your lower belly, and you do your best to stamp it out.

His gaze flicks towards you, sensing your need before his expression shutters. Facing forward, Yoongi surveys the scene.

“What happened?” he asks, low and deadly.

His Pillarman steps inside and shuts the door. Hoseok leans to the wall, jacket falling open to reveal the handle of his Sig Sauer. It’s odd for a Green Bone to carry a gun but Hoseok’s job is to protect Yoongi from all threats. Although Green Bone warriors render bullets obsolete through Steeling, there are other threats best deterred by firepower.

On the couch, Jio coughs and attempts to sit up. Grunting, Jungkook grabs his shoulder and forces him down.

“Don’t be an idiot,” you say to Jio. “The doctor is coming, but if you die before they get here, you’ll be no help to anyone.”

“Are you sure it was Maro?” Yoongi asks, tension radiating from every line in his body. Even if you couldn’t Perceive him, you’d know.

Weakly, Jio nods. “It was Maro. Looks different now – leaner and wearing new jade. Scabs up and down his arms. But yeah, it was him.”

You and Namjoon exchange a look. Arm scabs could be a sign of the Itches, an illness caused by jade overexposure. Jade overexposure can happen gradually, or it could be caused by a single instance. For example, if someone were to go without jade for years and then put a lot on.

Green Bones are taught the symptoms from a young age. Severe mood swings, sensory distortion – shaking, sweating, anxiety, paranoia, and heart palpitations. When left untreated, the Itches can lead to madness and eventually, death. Better soldiers than Maro have succumbed to it, the lure of more jade greater than self-control.

The possibility flashes before you – Maro, unable to stomach being cut off from Kekon. He seeks out new jade, expecting to stomach as much as he used to. Instead, Maro breaks, paranoia and fear dragging him under. He starts to blame others, including the clan who took everything from him. A man in such a state might consider revenge his only option.

The hypothesis fits, though it means nothing good for No Peak.

“What did he say?” Yoongi asks. “Tell us, word for word.”

“He…” Jio breaks into a coughing fit. “Knocked me out. When I woke up, I was tied to my kitchen chair. I asked Maro what the fuck he was doing.”

“And?” Namjoon prods. “What did he say?”

“Said he’d been gone for too long. That it was all a mistake – leaving, taking off his jade.”

“Is that why he came back?” you press.

Jio’s head lolls. “He asked who betrayed him. Said he only told a few people about the smuggling, so one of them must’ve done it. I didn’t know,” he rasps, shaking his head. “I wasn’t one of the people Maro told. He didn’t seem to remember – or care.”

Paranoia. Another unmistakable sign of the Itches.

“What else?” Namjoon asks. “How did you escape?”

“I don’t know.” Jio frowns, blood trickling from a cut above his eye. “Maro seemed confused. He kept asking who betrayed him, and then mentioning treasure? He wanted to know where his treasure was. I don’t even know what he meant,” he admits, glancing between you and Namjoon. “His jade? I dunno.”

“It could be,” you say slowly.

“He’d ask about his treasure one minute, then accuse it of betraying him,” Jio says. “He said he went where his treasure was, but it wasn’t there. Or they weren’t there? He kept mixing up tenses. Wasn’t sure he knew where he was, half the time.”

Off to the side, you feel a sudden surge of emotion – there and gone before you can dissect. Startled, you glance in the direction of Yoongi but find him unharmed. Eyes narrowed, you watch a moment longer before you turn back.

“If Maro wants his old jade, maybe he meant his apartment. He could have gone there to search first,” Namjoon offers.

“A waste,” you say with a frown. “Maro forfeited his jade to the clan before leaving.”

Forfeited to the Pillar, more accurately. You glance once more at Yoongi, who doesn’t react. He continues to examine Jio, a slight wrinkle between his brows.

“All roads lead to me, it would seem. How did you escape, Jio?” Yoongi adds, casually changing the subject.

“Didn’t, really.” Jio coughs, the sound wet. “Managed to get an arm free, lunged for Maro and fell on the floor. Maro… didn’t really notice. He swore something fierce, stabbed my fridge with his knife and ran off.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “He stabbed your… fridge?”

“Yeah.”

“That makes no sense.”

“If he has the Itches, it doesn’t have to,” Namjoon murmurs.

“True,” you say.

This feels important though, in a way you can’t pinpoint. Maro didn’t have any trouble killing before – the only reason he’d leave was if he found what he wanted. Frustration gnaws at your thoughts, certain you’re missing something.

Outside, you hear someone enter the driveway. Gravel skitters beneath tires, the car coming to a stop as someone exits.

“That must be the doctor.” Yoongi turns around, seemingly lost in thought. “I’ll go let them in.”

Pulling open the door, he exits with Hoseok. You watch them leave, returning your attention to Jio.

Looking weary, Jungkook sits back on his heels. “I’ve done what I can,” he says. “Stopped most of the internal bleeding. He should live.”

The door behind you opens. “I’ll be the judge of that,” says an unfamiliar woman, striding in. Setting down a black bag, she looks around. “Anyone without medical training should leave. Now.”

Brows raised, you obey and take your leave. In the hallway, Jungkook mutters something about readying the car and disappears. You remain in the house, pacing and waiting for Yoongi’s return.

Namjoon’s eyes follow your tread. “What are you thinking?”

Shaking your head, you stop to examine a portrait of Yoongi’s father. “I don’t know,” you admit. “Something about this feels off. Why would Maro leave so abruptly?”

“He wouldn’t,” Namjoon muses. “Not unless he found what he was looking for.”

“Maybe Jio is lying. Maybe he told Maro it was Yoongi who betrayed him. If that’s so though, why wouldn’t Maro come directly here?”

“Here?” Namjoon scoffs. “It’d be suicide to attack the Pillar in his own compound. No way – Maro is smarter. If I were him, I’d set a trap. Draw the Pillar out.”

A terrible suspicion dawns as you freeze, mid-stride. This is the moment the landline rings and, crossing the hallway, you yank down the phone.

“Hello?” you answer.

Asha’s voice fills your ears. “Y/N? Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me,” you say, turning around. “What’s wrong?”

“I have… well, I don’t know what I have.”

“What do you mean?” you press. “What’s wrong?”

Noticing your expression, Namjoon frowns and pushes himself from the wall.

“I went to Jio’s like you asked. There was no sign of Maro, so I went back to the house and… it’s strange. Maro tied Jio up in his kitchen, and there are signs of a struggle, but…”

“But what, Asha?”

She pauses. “Did Jio tell you what happened?”

“Yeah.” Your gaze flicks to Namjoon, who listens to every word. “He said Maro swore, stabbed a fridge and ran off.”

“Oh. Okay.” Asha exhales. “I was worried you’d think I’m crazy. The thing is, Maro didn’t just stab a fridge – he stabbed a photo. A person, to be exact.”

“… Who was the person he stabbed?”

Namjoon goes still, and your grip on the phone tightens. Pieces of the puzzle slide into place, leaving a picture which turns your stomach. Dread fills you, knowing what Asha will say before she says it.

“Yejun,” she says, and a loud ringing fills your ears. “She works at the same hospital as Jio’s wife, and there’s a photo of them at some ceremony. The knife… it’s straight through Yejun’s head.”

Heart pounding, you close your eyes and frantically sweep the grounds. Deep down though, you already know what you’ll find.

Yoongi is gone.

Fury boiling over, you realize this was the epiphany Yoongi had earlier. It must have something to do with the word treasure – likely a nickname between Yejun and Maro. Maro was looking for Yejun, not his jade or revenge. Or maybe it is revenge – stomach sinking, you realize what this must seem like. Maro told Yejun about his operation and soon after, Yoongi found out.

Maro wants Yejun, which is something you should’ve seen from the beginning. Yoongi realized before you and now, he’s run off to play hero.

“Stay here,” you say, turning to Namjoon. Feverish anger burns your blood. “Get Jio to the hospital once he’s stable. Thanks, Asha,” you say before hanging up.

Namjoon’s eyes narrow. “Yoongi went after Yejun, didn’t he?”

“Maybe,” you say, pushing past. “If he did, I’ll find him.”

You don’t remember reaching your car, only that once you do, you drive faster than you ever have through Janloon. The hospital is a logical starting point since that’s what Maro saw from the photo.

Shutting down your thoughts, you continue to weave through traffic. Thinking begets worry, which can lead to mistakes. Tightening your grip, you push the car faster. Roaring down the next street, you recall Yejun is working early shifts this week. She mentioned it the other day, saying how glad she was to be home in time for dinner.

Glancing at the clock, your jaw tightens. After a moment’s hesitation, you make a sharp turn, car skidding a little on the next street. If Yejun is already home, better to first check that she’s safe.

Yoongi’s sister lives near the hospital, an allowance granted with the understanding that your men keep tabs. While it’s unlikely Maro knows her home address, he could have followed her there from the hospital.

Parking swiftly, you leap from the car and sprint inside. Someone on the street protests, all bravado disappearing when they notice your jade. You skid to a stop in the lobby, zeroing in on the doorman.

“Floor ten,” you say flatly.

Open-mouthed, the man stares. When you start to move forward, he snaps to attention. “Elevator is out,” he blurts. “You’ll have to take the stairs, like the rest.”

The rest.

Teeth gritted, you pivot and take the steps three at a time. The climb upward is steep, and you use a burst of Strength to reach the top. Shoving open the door to floor ten, you come to a sudden halt.

Chaos greets you.

The hall before you is narrow, barely two meters in width. Yoongi and Maro face each other midway, moon blades drawn and locked in combat. Lunging, Maro’s blade slices Yoongi’s shoulder and blood splatters the floor. Hissing, Yoongi doubles his Strength to kick Maro in the chest, sending him flying.

Maro slams into a window, glass raining around him. Rolling Light, Maro jumps to face Yoongi, unscathed. Stomach sinking, you notice the amount of jade Maro carries. More than he ever had while part of the clan. Clearly, Maro is past the point of caring about things like the Itches.

His aura feels wrong where it touches yours, jagged and pulsing. Leaping and whirling with unknown motive, withdrawing to expand in nonsensical patterns.

Face contorted, Maro unleashes a series of blows which nearly has Yoongi buckling. Clearly, Maro has continued training in exile. He looks similar and yet different – his hair longer, beard unkempt to hide the scar on his cheek. His body is lean, that of a wild wolf after winter who fights more desperately because of it.

Steeling himself, you feel Yoongi pull his aura inward, readying for the next blow. Maro slips beneath Yoongi’s blade and slashes – and Yoongi releases, Channeling his energy outward in a deadly wave. The invisible strike hits Maro dead-on, making him stumble.

Gaze bright, Maro’s head whips upward. Sensing murderous intent, a growl slips from your throat as you rush in. Swifter than breath, you wrench knives from your belt, thrusting them upward to catch Maro’s blade.

He shudders to a halt, teeth bared in your face.

Yoongi skids to a stop beside you, disbelief warring with his panic.

“GO!” you yell, glancing at Yejun’s door. “Now!”

Yoongi hesitates before nodding, lowering his sword to dart inside. Maro seethes when he escapes, shoving with all his weight to send you backwards. Dropping into a crouch, you brace yourself with one hand and kick outward. Maro leaps to avoid the blow, landing Light with a fierce glint in his eye.

Bright studs of jade – some red and oozing – dot his chest, clearly done in haste. Maro doesn’t seem to feel pain as he walks towards you.

“You?” he taunts, half-laughing. “You’d barely graduated when I was chosen for Horn. Must be nice,” he muses. “A reward for fucking the boss.”

Biting your lower lip, you hold back your retort. When you do this, Maro smiles, lips pulled from his teeth.

Before he can speak, you lunge forward and Channel. Energy jabs Maro’s chest – enough to stun, but not kill. Grunting, Maro’s smile disappears as he Deflects. Bringing his sword down overhead, he leaves no room to dodge. Swiftly, you Steel and hope for the best.

Maro’s blade slams against skin, though he fails to draw blood. Springing forward, you strike hard enough to rend his shirt’s fabric. Pulling back, Maro seethes.

Your next series of blows are fueled by Strength, fast enough to elude normal vision. You rely on muscle memory and Perception, countering each of Maro’s strokes with your own. He’s not as fast as you are, but his additional jade gives him an edge.

His next Channel is clumsy but strong, enough to leave you winded and miss his next blow. You don’t Steel in time, his blade catching your jacket to cut your torso. Hissing, you stumble and press a hand to the wound.

The cut feels shallow but stings, nonetheless. Fury building, you hone your Perception to a narrow cone. Maro’s aura ebbs and flows, erratically bursting as he walks towards you.

“I don’t know why you’re bothering to fight,” he says, adjusting his grip on his sword. “If anything, you should join me, Y/N – I’m your future.”

Refusing to let him continue, you rush forward and exchange a flurry of blows that end in a stalemate.

Panting, Maro withdraws. “You have to understand I loved her,” he hisses. “I loved her, and she betrayed me. She deserves to die.”

“Who did?” you ask, although you already know.

Behind Maro, you see Yoongi rush from Yejun’s apartment. He holds her, unconscious, Yejun’s aura silent without jade ability. Fervent, you wish you could gauge her vitality. As it is, all you can do is buy them time to get help.

Sinking into a crouch, you draw Maro’s gaze.

“Yejun?” you prod.

“Yes,” Maro breathes, his gaze bright. “I trusted her, and she turned me in. Do you know what I thought about every day while in Shotar? Her. Do you know what she thought about? The clan,” he spits. “He’ll betray you, too, in the end – you’ll see. Killing them both now would be a mercy.”

“Yejun didn’t betray you,” you say to buy time. “She wasn’t the one who told Yoongi – he found out on his own.”

Maro blinks, his surprise evident for a moment before vanishing under fury. “That’s just as bad,” he snaps, his voice rising. “Yoongi and I were like brothers. Under aisho, doesn’t family come first?”

“Even family is bound by honor,” you say grimly. “Should I ever be disloyal to my brother, may I die by the blade,” you add, reciting the Green Bone oaths. “I won’t join you, Toh Marosun. Take me by force if you must.”

His nostrils flare but before he can act, you rush in. Dimly, you register Yoongi’s retreating aura and hope he’s managed to escape the building. Lightness and Strength blur as you move, Maro’s Deflection flung hastily forward.

You keep your blows unpredictable, swift enough that Maro struggles. Rage cloaks your intention as you whirl and slice in erratic patterns. Sweat beads on Maro’s forehead, Steeling wrongly for your knives to draw blood.

Sensing victory, you push harder. Gathering his energy inward, Maro lashes out suddenly in a Channel you barely Deflect. Energy rips through you, searing your bones in a silent attack. Wincing, you leap back and Channel a blow. Maro stumbles, barely shielding and you recognize a flaw.

There are few Green Bones in Shotar, which must make it difficult for him to practice Deflection. Pressing the advantage, you move forward in a quick flurry of blows. Although Maro’s sword is larger, your knives gain the advantage in the small space. He can’t move when you duck underneath, stabbing upward to pierce his soft underarm.

Howling, Maro whirls and swings at you rashly. Leaning backwards, you Steel and catch the blow on your forearm. Vibrations clang through you, rattling the teeth in your skull. The two of you lock together, Maro’s energy clashing with yours. When he doubles his Strength, you feel your Steel buckle.

Lips split in a grin, Maro keeps his sword steady. Further increasing his Strength, he’s focused on winning he doesn’t notice the shift in your aura.

Dropping your Steel, you draw everything inward and let his sword slice your arm. Maro’s laugh is manic – until you Channel outward. The last of your energy shatters his Deflection, piercing inner organs with deadly precision. You feel the moment Maro’s heart stops, his arteries rupturing from the inside out.

Forgoing any mercy, your knife slashes his throat in a clean line.

Blood mists from the wound, coating the wall behind you in red. With a gurgled gasp, Maro lifts a hand – only to go limp and fall, face-first on the floor.

Silence descends, broken only by your ragged breathing. Not far off, sirens wail, and you sense Green Bone auras closing in on the building. Eyes closed, you force yourself to breathe in and out.

No matter how often you do it, killing another person never gets easier. Even when necessary. Even when said person threatens your life and others. You fortify yourself with the knowledge that Yoongi is safe, and Yejun will live – she has to.

The cost to your soul is too high for anything else.

“Is he dead?” asks someone behind you.

Swiftly, you turn as you open your eyes. You were so focused inward, you failed to notice Yoongi’s aura approach. The Pillar’s gaze snags, stopping on the man before you.

“Yes,” you say, bending to clean your knives. Heart hammering, you wonder what Yoongi feels at seeing his former friend dead. Wonder if he’ll blame you, as Maro said.

Setting your jaw, you sheath both your knives before standing. Immediately, you see you needn’t have worried. Yoongi isn’t looking at Maro, but at you. A lone muscle tics in his jaw, observing the crimson blood staining your clothes.

“The police are on their way. They’ll clean up the scene. You’re hurt,” Yoongi adds, his voice thick.

You glance down at your arm. “It’s nothing.”

Bending again, you begin to gather Maro’s jade. You’ll be expected to wear it the next time you’re in public, but right now, the touch of it is nearly overwhelming. Minor wounds and injuries pulse with each movement, already healing from your current jade.

“I’ll take it.” Yoongi suddenly is beside you, right hand extended. “Let me help.”

Relinquishing some of the jade piercings, you slide the rest in your pockets and push yourself to stand. Turning to face him, you stride down the hall. A roiling ball of emotion settles deep in your gut.

Worry about Yejun. Fury at Yoongi’s lies. Relief, that he’s here and unharmed.

Entering the stairwell, the door hits the wall with a satisfying thud. Yoongi follows closely, wisely choosing to remain silent. Two stories lower, you find the words to speak.

“Is Yejun okay?” you ask.

You feel Yoongi’s gaze on the back of your neck. “She’ll live,” he says, sounding weary. “I left her at the hospital with Namjoon and Jiro. She has a concussion. Maro got here a few minutes before I did and had already roughed her up.”

Something about this snaps the hold on your fragile self-control. Picturing what might have happened had you arrived a few seconds later, you whirl around and grasp Yoongi by his suit jacket.

“Never,” you blurt, yanking him closer. “Never do that to me again.”

Gaze burning, you stare him down and Yoongi watches warily. He doesn’t move an inch, allowing you to manhandle him. “I know that you’re angry,” he says carefully.

With a harsh laugh, you release him. “Of course, I am! You shouldn’t have come here alone.”

“I know that.”

“Well?” you demand after a long moment passes. “Aren’t you going to apologize?”

Yoongi lifts a brow. “I’d do it again.”

You stare at him, aghast. “Well, then.” You pause. Shake your head. “If that’s all you have to say, I think this night is over.”

Wiping your palms on your pants, you turn away. You only make it one flight before Yoongi’s hand finds your elbow.

Spinning you towards him, Yoongi pulls you closer. You manage to avoid eye contact until his fingers slip beneath your chin, making you face him.

“I know you want me to apologize, but I won’t,” he says lowly. “I refuse to apologize for trying to keep you from danger.”

Most people would swoon, hearing this from their lover but you aren’t most people. You’re the Horn of No Peak, sworn to protect the clan – and Yoongi – from any threats.

Your gaze narrows on his. “That’s a problem, then. I’m your Horn, Yoongi. It’s my duty to protect No Peak – to protect you. The Pillar is the spine of this clan and, once severed, No Peak can’t survive. It can survive without me, though.”

Yoongi’s nostrils flare. “And what about me?” he asks. “If you don’t survive, how do you expect me to continue?”

You go still. “Yoongi… I…”

“And for that matter,” he adds, his hand on your chin sliding to the back of your neck. “If you’re so intent on following the rules, who are you to give me orders? I’ll fight to protect the clan if I want to, Y/N.”

Fury expands from the spark in your chest. “You didn’t make me your Horn to follow you blindly,” you seethe.

“No.” His gaze softens. “I did not.”

You stare at each other for a long moment, each passing second draining some of your fire. You’re left with smoke on your tongue, a heaviness in your heart and the ever-growing certainty the time for rule-following has passed.

“You… can’t think like that,” you say eventually.

Yoongi’s brow sketches upward. “Like what?”

“Like I’m worth more than the clan. More than you, as it’s Pillar. That’s dangerous precedent.”

“I don’t care.”

“Well, I do,” you say, frustrated by his nonchalance. “The clan is my blood, and the Pillar is its master,” you add, reciting your oaths again. “You are the Pillar. Your life is that of the clan.”

Yoongi’s lips twist with displeasure. “It seems we’re at an impasse, since I refuse to place my life before yours.”

“Yoongi,” you snap, exasperated. “You can’t just… just –”

“Just what?” His eyes blaze. “Love you?”

“Yes,” you whisper, voice breaking.

Something in his face gentles. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

Perceiving this truth, the last bit of fight drains from your body. Sensing it, Yoongi draws you closer and pulls you against him. Eyes shutting, you lean into his chest. Yoongi’s aura swallows you whole, an oasis of calm against the onslaught of night.

His breath warms your ear. “It was my problem to fix,” Yoongi murmurs, sounding reticent. “She… Yejun didn’t betray Maro, but she was going to – that’s how I found out. She was writing a letter to me on her kitchen table. I walked in and saw it.”

Lifting your head, you regard him. “You don’t have to explain to me why you spared your sister. I understand.”

“Thank you. You should know, though,” he adds, his voice fierce, “I will do anything to keep those I love from harm.”

You can’t help but smile, though it quickly fades. “I know you would, Yoongi. That’s a burden you can’t carry alone, though. It makes you weaker, not stronger.”

“This was my fault, though,” he says. “Not yours – nor anyone else from the clan. It was my decision to let Maro go free.”

“You aren’t responsible for Maro’s actions. And it’s not weakness to show mercy.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw.

“It’s not,” you press on. “Who’s to say what the right choice was? If you’d killed Maro back then, maybe something worse would’ve happened. Yejun might not have forgiven you. It’s impossible to rewrite the past, and you’ll go mad if you try.”

Yoongi looks away, unconvinced. “What type of Pillar does that make me, though?”

“One who hesitates before killing their friends.”

“One who balks at making tough decisions.”

“Min Yoongi.” Steel layers your voice and you reach up, turning his face to yours. “I would never swear oaths to someone who killed without question. Who made decisions in anger, then regretted them later. You question me when you question yourself.”

His gaze roams your face. “And what if others betray me?” Yoongi murmurs, voice lower. “Would you continue to support me if I was forced to kill Asha? Or Jungkook?”

“I’d trust you did what had to be done.”

“And what if I become corrupt?” he murmurs, his gaze flicking lower. “What if I’m the one being selfish, betraying the clan?”

“Well, that’s easy.” Reaching lower, you wrap a hand around the hilt of his blade. “I’ll kill you myself.”

Not looking away, Yoongi’s hand covers yours. “You could try,” he murmurs, some of his tension dissipated.

“Oh, I think I’d succeed.”

Releasing your hand, Yoongi finds your knee and hitches your leg against him. “If it came to that,” he murmurs, nose skimming your throat, “I’d let you.”

Inhaling softly, you close your eyes. “Promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

Perceiving the truth to his words, you open your eyes. Yoongi stares back, letting you see the starkness in his gaze. It’s no small thing for the most powerful man in Kekon to promise you anything.

Similarly, it’s no small thing to admit he holds your heart in both hands. Which is why you need to say what you do next. Without Yoongi’s next promise, this can’t go any further.

“Don’t make these decisions without me,” you whisper. “Let me decide for myself when a job is too dangerous.”

Yoongi’s lips flatten. “You give me an impossible choice, since nothing is too dangerous for my lovely Horn.”

“Trust that I love you, then,” you say, your hand trembling as you rise to cup his face. “And that I’ll do what it takes to come back.”

Yoongi goes still at your declaration. His pupils dilate so far, they seem to swallow the light. Four years, you’ve spent fighting together. Five months of knowing him this way, and never have you uttered those words to his face.

The transformation is quick, his expression shifting to desire in barely a breath. Bending, Yoongi drags your mouth to his. “Say it again,” he growls against your lips. “Tell me you love me.”

“You’ll become greedy,” you say, breathless.

“I’m the Pillar of No Peak.” He gives a half-laugh. “I will always want more.”

“Then, take it.”

Opening your mouth, Yoongi walks you backwards until your spine hits the wall. You lose yourself in his touch, his taste, the fatal heat of his body. Fingers tangling in hair, you’re rewarded by the basest of groans from his lips. Yoongi’s hands find your body, grasping and searching to pull you against him.

Far below, the faint pulse of jade auras brush yours. “Yoongi,” you moan, nipping his lower lip. “We should go.”

Pulling away, his thumbs indent your hips. “Go where?”

“Your place. My place. I don’t care.”

“I do,” he says with a grin. “Want to wake up with you in my bed.”

You can’t help but laugh. “You’re so needy.”

“I am.” His lips curve. “I need many things, Y/N. You in my bed. Eventually, in my house. Your vows exchanged for mine. But first” – his brow lifts – “I need to fuck you. Need to bury myself inside you.”

Lips parting, you attempt to digest this information. Everything Min Yoongi has laid on the line. The last sentence catches your attention though, heat curling in your belly and replacing all sentient thought. The rest can come later – first, you need him inside you.

“Let’s go,” you declare, pushing yourself from the wall.

He chuckles, low in his throat as he follows your lead. Halfway down, Yoongi’s arm finds your waist to pull you against him. His teeth scrape the skin beneath your ear, pausing to nip the highest jade hoop.

“Where will you put your new jade?” he muses, pressing his erection to you from behind. “You’re running out of places on your body.”

“I’ll think of something,” you murmur, Yoongi’s tongue on your neck proving extremely distracting. “Wrist cuffs might be nice.”

“If you wanted to be cuffed” – his voice dips – “all you had to do was ask.”

“That is not what I was referring to,” you say, although a shiver traces your spine.

“Pity.”

A second before exiting the stairwell, Yoongi releases you and takes a step back. You ignore the disappointment this brings, forcing your expression to neutral. Already, police cars are arriving to hold back the crowds.

From across the lobby, you spot Asha and Hoseok in deep conversation with uniformed officers. Moving towards them, you’re surprised when Yoongi takes you by the elbow.

“I ran into Hoseok in the lobby,” he says, steering you sideways. “He and Asha will clean up and meet us back home.”

Hoseok nods when you pass, his jaw tight in a way that implies displeasure. Swallowing laughter, you push open the door and immediately, your smile vanishes. Many people have gathered, huddled in groups around the yellow caution tape.

Catching sight of your reflection, you stifle a groan. You look terrible – sweat and blood mar your forehead, the rips in your jacket showing your wounds. Before anything between you and Yoongi can happen, you need a hot shower.

“The situation’s been handled,” Yoongi says to the crowd, pulling you towards the car. “Green Bones are searching the area for remaining danger – you should be able to enter the building soon. No Peak will compensate for damages.”

With that, he opens the car door and watches you enter. Expressions shift in the crowd, a wave of relief washing over the people. Yoongi joins you in the backseat, leaning forward to instruct the driver to go.

The car rumbles from the curb, its speed slow to avoid the pedestrians in your path. Grateful for the tinted windows, you lean sideways and rest your head against the cool glass.

In the reflection, you watch Yoongi retrieve his car phone. “Namjoon?” he says after a moment. “It’s done – Maro is dead. How’s Yejun?”

Namjoon’s reply is muffled, and your thoughts wander. Once you return, you should find Jungkook and instruct him to search Maro’s former haunts. There’s a chance he wasn’t working alone and if so, you’ll need to catch his supporters.

Tonight has taken a toll though, no matter how much you’d like to pretend otherwise. Exhaustion settles while you stare out the window, watching the lights of Janloon flick past.

Yoongi hangs up the phone. “Yejun is fine,” he says, and you turn your head. “Namjoon said she lost a lot of blood, but nothing that can’t be fixed. She should be awake in a few hours.”

Relief floods your body. “That’s good.”

His hand rests beside yours on the seat, close enough to feel the heat from his palm. Exhaling softly, Yoongi shifts until his hand covers yours.

Going still, you stare at your entwined hands on the leather. The car slows beneath you, coming to a stop before the Min gates. Another moment passes before the gates open, the car rumbling forward as Yoongi speaks up.

“You can take us to my place, Galo,” he says. “No need to stop at the main house.”

Startled, you glance sideways, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice. Never mind the driver’s raised eyebrows, or the fact that Yoongi just told him you’re sleeping together. While it’s true, you’ve slept here before, you’ve never been obvious. It feels as though a bridge has been crossed without discussion of what that means.

The moment the car is in park, you exit the vehicle and slam the door. Striding inside the front door, you unzip your jacket to hang on a hook. If Yoongi thinks he can share your relationship with others, you have every right to act at home in his house.

Technically, the Horn has a house on Min property, but you’ve always preferred to keep a separate residence. Your apartment in the city has served you well – except for the nights you stay here and sneak out the next morning.

Removing your boots, you set these aside. “We just discussed this,” you fume as you turn. “Ask me next time before you decide–”

Your words are cut off by Yoongi’s mouth, pushing you back until your spine hits the wall. “Couldn’t wait,” he rasps, shutting the door with his foot. “Need you. Now.”

Exhaling, you melt and arch upward against him. Grasping your thigh, Yoongi yanks your leg higher to wrap around his waist. The thick length of his cock presses to your center and you nearly whimper. Fiery anger dissolves into need – the need to touch him, feel him and wash away tonight’s fear.

“Yoongi,” you moan, turning your head. “I need to shower.”

Grasping your wrists with one hand, he presses them above your head. “Do you?” he murmurs, kissing down your neck.

“I’m covered in blood,” you protest.

Glancing up, Yoongi smirks. “And?”

Stifling laughter, you push at his chest. Obedient, Yoongi releases your hands to take a step backward. “Not to mention,” you say as you move past, “I’d rather not have Toh Marosun’s blood in your bed.”

Yoongi’s next action is quick, happening in the same breath. Catching your wrist in one hand, he pulls you closer. “The next time you say a man’s name in this house,” he rasps. “It had better be mine.”

“We’ll see,” you say loftily. “Now, let me wash up.”

Releasing you, Yoongi lets you pass, and you don’t turn around. If you did, you know you might cave and fuck him right there on the floor.

Entering his bedroom, you flick on the lights. Soft, muted warmth fills a room of concrete. Bulletproof windows overlook dense vegetation, invoking the feel of a post-apocalyptic city. Pausing in the doorway, you inhale his scent.

Although you’d never tell Yoongi – it’d go to his head – this room has swiftly become one of your favorite places. Watching dawn break in his arms has brought you greater peace than any of the gods.

In his bathroom, you help yourself to his fancy products and step under the spray. Securing your hair, you do your best to avoid the strands getting wet. Cranking up the heat to high, steam fills the room as you scrub blood from your skin. The water beneath your feet turns red, and then pink before finally clear.

Once done, you turn off the spray and wrap yourself in a towel. Straining Perception, you find Yoongi showering across the house. You’re momentarily surprised he didn’t try and join, although grateful he didn’t. After five years of knowing one another, Yoongi understands when you need time alone.

You’re washing your face when the bedroom door creaks. Drying your skin, you cross to the closet and withdraw a robe. Securing the tie, you wipe steam from the mirror before opening the door.

Yoongi sits on the edge of his bed, damp hair curling at the base of his neck. He’s freshly washed and changed into a plain shirt and trousers. In one hand, he holds a crystal glass of hoji, swirling it once before taking a sip.

Leisurely, his gaze drags down your body. When Yoongi looks up, his face brims with unsaid desire. Silent, he sets down his glass and pushes himself to stand. Watching him eagerly, you Perceive his intent when Yoongi prowls closer.

Coming to a stop before you, Yoongi lifts his hand to cup the back of your neck. Tilting your face upward, he strokes your damp skin with his fingers.

Silent, he lowers his face until your lips nearly touch. “What was it you said?” he murmurs. “About the clan being your blood and the Pillar, its master?”

Your breath catches in your throat. “You know the oaths as well as I do.”

“Yes.” Bending, Yoongi uses Strength to lift you against him. Gripping you tightly, he carries you to his dresser and deposits you there. “Well,” he says, lowering himself. “Allow me to show you who I get on my knees for.”

You stare at him, mesmerized when he parts your legs. Pulling your hips to the edge, Yoongi grips your thigh with a veined hand. The sight of him like this is downright sinful. Desire courses through you, setting your skin ablaze.

Yoongi leans forward, gaze meeting yours at the first brush of his tongue. You groan with relief, thighs spreading further. Lifting his other hand, Yoongi tugs at the tie of your robe. You inhale when it opens, fully bared while Yoongi’s tongue curls against your dripping sex.

He pulls away, eyes dark and casually spreads your folds. Muttering something that sounds like a swear, he stares at your cunt before lowering his head and sucking your clit. A dark moan escapes, weight shifting to get him even closer. Forcing your thighs open, Yoongi begins to flick his tongue against your swollen mound.

He doesn’t rush this, taking his time while eating you out. Yoongi flicks, and then swirls before sucking your clit. His tongue drags to your cunt, already dripping with arousal. Humming in satisfaction, Yoongi shifts on the floor and slips his tongue inside. Gasping his name, your fingers curl in the dark strands of his hair.

His tongue slowly fucks you, barely a taste of what’s to come. “Yoongi,” you groan, moving against him. “I need more.”

“Anything,” he says, pulling back to spread you with his fingers. Yoongi’s thumb finds your clit, casually stroking until your body quivers. “Take off the robe,” he demands, looking up. “I want to see you.”

Wordless, you push the supple silk from your shoulders.

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes, staring at rounded breasts and hard nipples. Lowering his head, he sucks your clit again. Sliding a hand under your ass, he drags you close to the edge.

Gasping out loud, your hand fists his hair to anchor your body. In the mirror behind him, you watch your chest heave, hips undulating while he licks your pussy. Head tipping back, you lose yourself in sensation, each stroke of his tongue further coiling your tension. Yoongi is patient; he knows what you need and takes his time getting there.

Cupping his head, you move your hips while starting to ride his tongue. When Yoongi strokes your entrance and slips a finger inside, you nearly convulse.

“Yoongi,” you gasp, legs shaking.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, lifting his head. Curling that finger, he strokes a dangerous place. “Come for me.”

When his tongue resumes motion, you feel your walls convulse. Tighter and tighter until – everything snaps, a wave of pleasure cresting through you. Thighs trembling, you hold Yoongi’s hair while you cry out his name.

The pleasure slowly subsides, leaving you slumped on the dresser. Yoongi pushes himself upward, cock straining eagerly against the seams of his pants. Cupping the back of your neck, he kisses you deeply, allowing you to taste yourself. Parting your lips with his tongue, he dives into you eagerly, one hand slipping to slide into your pussy.

Groaning his name, you fumble with the buttons holding his shirt together. “This,” you demand. “Off.”

Using Strength, you send the buttons flying. Yoongi smirks, withdrawing and pushing his shirt to the ground. Touching his chest, you stare at him, unabashed. The lean lines of his torso, the indent of his v, the jade lining his fingers where he grips you tightly.

His moon blade is absent, likely the first thing he cleaned upon entry. Still, the hum of Yoongi’s jade is a potent weapon – nearly as much as the need in his eyes.

Lowering your hand, you palm the bulge in his pants. Jaw flexing, Yoongi lifts your leg to wrap around him. The roughness of his pants against your sex makes you hiss.

“Yoongi,” you moan. “Want to touch you.”

“I want that, too,” he murmurs, hair falling into his gaze. “More than that, I want to be inside you.”

Breath catching, you remove your hand as he presses forward. You feel his cock through his pants, rock-hard and straining against your needy pussy. Swallowing thickly, you managed to undo the last button and shove his pants down. Stepping free of their confines, Yoongi palms his own cock.

Replacing his hand, you give him a squeeze. Yoongi lowers his head to close his lips around a waiting nipple. A whimper rises when he tugs, switching to the other breast and repeating the motion. Arching upward, you lazily drag your thumb over the tip of his cock.

Eventually, Yoongi looks up and hisses, “Enough.”

Reaching lower, he guides his cock to your entrance. Leaning back on your palms, you lift one knee to allow him better access. Yoongi pauses, gaze traveling your face to your chest, landing on your cunt. Exhaling softly, your head tips back as you widen your legs.

“You’re perfect,” Yoongi rasps, flicking his thumb over your hooded clit.

Inhaling, you tremble from oversensitivity. Bending, Yoongi slowly spits to land moisture on your cunt. It drips down your sex, mixing with arousal while Yoongi pushes the tip of his cock inside. He pauses, watching your face, then adds another inch.

You arch upward, trying and failing to take him in deeper. “Is that all you have?” you challenge, goading.

Yoongi merely smirks. “Do you think,” he murmurs, refusing to move, “you can make me give you what you want?”

When he starts to withdraw, you tilt your hips, and he slides in a bit deeper. Yoongi groans as he fills you, hand tightening on your waist.

“Yes,” you gloat, brushing your breasts to his chest. “I do.”

Yoongi’s gaze flares, and he pushes in a bit more. “I know you, Y/N,” he murmurs, moving one hand to your neck. Thumb brushing your collarbone, he hauls you upright and keeps your thighs spread. “I know you want this pussy filled nice and slow. I know you want me to tease you. I know you want to feel in control but have someone else do the work. And I want – no, need,” Yoongi corrects, aura flaring, “to be the one giving it to you.”

Before you can respond, he thrusts forward and fills you with his cock. A cry leaves you, unable to do anything but take it. With your legs spread, hips tilted, the thickness of his length presses to your g-spot. And when Yoongi withdraws and leaves your body empty, you think you might cry. Think you might beg to have more of his cock.

Luckily, Yoongi doesn’t want this. Thrusting into you fully, he starts to move. Filling you up with his thickness, he goes harder and harder until you can barely think straight. His hips pound yours, filling you to the brim, making you take it. Fingers brushing the jade on your throat, he spikes your arousal and drenches his cock.

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes, staring at the place he disappears inside you. “You’re amazing.”

“Yoongi,” you groan. “I need… need…”

“Yeah?” His gaze lifts. “Tell me what you need.”

“Deeper,” you plead.

His aura flares briefly before he pulls out. Before you can speak, his hands find your waist, setting you on the floor to turn you around. Spreading your legs, he presses a hand to your back to push you lower.

Gripping his dresser, you look over your shoulder while he positions himself from behind. “What about now?” Yoongi asks, slipping inside with one thrust.

Lips parting, you bend further and stick out your ass. Yoongi starts to move when you spread your legs, fucking you harder. His thrusts become rougher, hips slapping your ass while your breasts bounce.

“That’s it,” he says, leaning forward to lace one hand with yours. His other slides between your thighs, flicking over your clit. “So wet and tight for me. Taking my cock like you own it.”

“Don’t I?” you groan.

“Mm,” he agrees, rubbing circles on your clit. “It’s yours – I’m yours.”

Before you can respond, he pulls out again. Draping you over one shoulder, Yoongi carries you, Light, to his bed. You scowl, hitting his thigh but Yoongi responds with a firm smack to your ass. His fingers slip briefly between your cheeks, wetting himself with your slick. Before you can moan, he deposits you on the bed.

Kneeling between your legs, Yoongi repositions himself at your entrance and pushes in.

“Oh,” you groan, heading tilting back.

You love sex with Yoongi in every position, but this is your favorite. Feeling his callouses slide over our skin, his weight heavy while filling you with his cock. Yoongi’s length slides inside, rocking into you slowly while his hair brushes your forehead.

Reaching up, you push this from his face when he starts to move. If there’s one thing you’ve learned from tonight, it’s that these moments are precious. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you hold him tighter.

“Marry me,” Yoongi says.

You go still underneath him. “I… what?”

Sliding his hand under your hips, Yoongi tilts them to get deeper. “Marry me,” he repeats. “I’m tired of pretending. Tired of waking up without you. Living my life without you.”

“You have me,” you say, unsure whether he’s serious.

Slowly, he thrusts in and out of your body. “Not the way I want.” His eyes flash. “As not only my Horn, but my wife. I want to be your husband. I want the entire world to know I belong to you.”

Taking your other hand, Yoongi moves this to the bed while continuing to thrust. You arch against him, chasing his hips and words with your own.

“People will talk,” you say, breathless.

His gaze sparks. “Do you think I care?”

“Maybe I care,” you say. “They’ll call me a distraction. And don’t give me that bullshit about my life being worth more than yours.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Yoongi chuckles, teeth scraping your neck. “What I will say is that I’m better with you. And if I’m better, the clan is better. Not that you should marry me because of that,” he adds, almost an afterthought.

You lose your breath when he circles his hips, driving into you deeper. Thighs parting, you lose yourself in the feel of him in you. His body moves as his soul does, completing you fully. In truth, you’ve avoided this conversation because you know how it ends.

It ends with Yoongi. He’s it for you. From the first time you kissed, you knew it would end up here – it was only a matter of when. Your remaining barriers crumble as you meet his gaze.

“Yes,” you exhale, your hips chasing his.

Yoongi’s aura sharpens. “Yes?” he repeats. “Is that… agreement or acceptance?”

“Yes – as in yes, Yoongi, I’ll marry you.”

Yoongi goes completely still, ignoring your protest. A second later, he’s consumed by a wave of emotion. Need – fiery and stark – sweeps through him as he bends, crushing your lips to his. Yoongi’s kiss burns, searing and marking you for one another.

Slipping an arm beneath your knee, Yoongi pushes upward to get even deeper. You gasp with pleasure, his cock hitting a spot that makes you incoherent.

“Soon,” he adds, adding Strength to his thrusts.

Breathless, your fingertips dig into his skin. “Don’t be greedy,” you chide, losing some credibility when a moan leaves your lips.

His upper lip curls. “I am, though,” Yoongi grunts, pushing you close to the edge. “I’ll never have enough of you, Y/N.”

“Good,” you say, holding him tightly. “I’m yours, Yoongi.”

A groan escapes him, burying his face in your neck. The muscles in Yoongi’s shoulders strain, fucking you harder. “I could die hearing those words.”

“Don’t. That’s an order.”

Yoongi looks up to lock gazes. “Whatever you want. I need it, Y/N. Need this – want to feel you come on my cock.”

Already close to the edge, his words leave you trembling. Clutching him harder, you widen your thighs and feel your walls shatter when you come undone. Pleasure consumes you, vision going dark as you throw back your head. Yoongi’s lips brush your throat, continuing to thrust through your orgasm.

Swearing when you tighten, Yoongi goes harder to chase his release. On his last thrust, he breaks, your name on his tongue as hot cum fills your body. Slowly, he lowers himself to the bed beside you. Yoongi slips partway out, your bodies still intertwined.

Lifting a hand, you drag this down his side. Yoongi smiles at you before pulling out, reaching to grab a tissue from his nightstand. He cleans you with care, then rises from bed to throw it away. Slipping beneath the covers, you wait for his return.

Yoongi does so quietly, dimming the light before he joins you in bed. Slowly, your eyes adjust until Yoongi’s moon-limned face becomes visible.

“Did you mean it?” you say, barely more than a whisper.

“I’ve never meant anything more in my life,” he says roughly. “And you? Did you also mean what you said?”

Slowly, you nod.

Joy floods his aura, sharp and bright. “Anything you want,” Yoongi says, determined. “You have only to ask. Cities burnt. Villains vanquished. My own name, forsaken – ask, and it’s yours.”

You can’t help but laugh, your whole body shaking. “Villains vanquished?” you tease, pressing closer. “There are some who might call you the villain of this story.”

His lip twitches. “Then, I’ll defeat myself.”

“Seems like an easy fight.”

Mock growling, he rolls to pin you underneath him. You laugh louder, the sound muffled when Yoongi bends to kiss you. By the time his head lifts, the two of you are breathless.

“I apologize,” you murmur, cupping his face. “Most fearsome Pillar.”

Baring his teeth, he nips your thumb. “That’s better.”

“Truly, though,” you tell him. “There’s no need to get me anything. Whatever I want, I can get for myself.”

Somewhat amused, Yoongi settles beside you. “Oh, I’m aware. My heart, for instance,” he says, placing your hand on his chest.

“That, I’ll accept,” you say softly, staring at your hand on his skin. Your gaze lifts. “As long as mine belongs to you, in turn.”

“A heart for a heart,” Yoongi agrees, moving closer.

Skin pressed to skin, you feel your hearts settle. No Green Bone magic ties two souls together. Instead, that magic lies within the bounds of normal humans. And yet, as you breathe and listen to the blood in his veins, you can’t help but feel something greater is at work.

Something even death could not part – although you’d dare it to try.

Author’s Note: thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Go read Jade City by Fonda Lee. LOL

#bangtanarmynet #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts fic #yoongi organized crime #bts organized crime

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beetlesau · 5 months

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Bus Ride, Drabble Dabble, Bakugo/Reader

I'm obsessed with the idea that Bakugo would go feral for a woman that's as normie as his dad just because his mom CHASED his dad DOWN because she wanted him, And Bakugo is his moms twin. ANYWAY. Just messing around with a tame version of that idea. Being bored. Zero Edits, I don't even know if I spelt names correctly lol K Baaiiiii

"Why does your hair look like that?" Mineta peaked over the bus seat down at you. You instinctually pulled the collar of your shirt up to cover any cleavage that could have been showing from that view.

You sighed, it was a common question back in school before UA. You'd been made fun of for it for as long as you could remember, but you never cared. It was your second year at UA, you'd thought someone would have said something sooner than now, but here you were. You made an obvious glance up at Mineta's purple grapelike head before bringing your attention back to his face.

"Same reason yours looks like that, I guess. Our quirk just made us different." You looked back down to a Heroes Weekly Tabloid magazine you'd been busying yourself with prior.

Your hair was normal, bland even, save for the bands of white that flowed down from your temples. The doctors said that when your quirk manifested, it must have put such a strain on you that your body responded in the odd way it did. The same thing happened to your eye color. You had such intense grey eyes after your quirk appeared you hardly remember the color they were before that day.

"No I mean your haircut!" he chided. Your eye twitched before you looked up again at the pervert menace. You noticed that comment also grabbed the attention of the others on the bus.

In the seat across from Mineta sat Ashido and Uraraka. Uraraka, who sat by the window, glowered at the boy as best as her round sweet face could. Ashido sneered and shot a glance over to Mineta's seatmate, Kaminari. A look that said, "if you don't do something, I will."

Kaminari, not wanting to have his face melted off as collateral damage, stood in his chair and turned back to face you as well. He put on his best flirty smile and propped his cheek on his fist. "I don't know, I think it looks pretty good. Edgy. Mysterious."

"Yeah, it's a mystery why she has that haircut. It's so unflattering on you! You could be an absolute ten if you'd just--"

Mina flung her leg across the aisle, shoving her boot into Mineta AND Kaminari's sides.

"You dimwitted jerks! You're lucky she doesn't have Uraraka float your two asses and hog tie you to the bus like a couple of balloons!"

"Say the word and I'll do it, girl!" Uraraka looked at you with her dusted pink cheeks. She may have been a softy but she was a ride-or-die.

You laughed at your two best friends and shook your head no. It was alright. It wasn't anything you weren't used to.

"She cuts it herself." a gravelly voice across from you catches your attention. "Didn't you say that, like, first day of school? Do you not pay attention, idiots?" Bakugo takes one of his earphones out as he readjusts against his school bag. All the noise must have bothered him enough to chime in.

All four members of the conversation lean out into the aisle and look back at the blonde. Did he just say he remembered some random thing someone said about themselves?

"Oh. Right, yeah I kind of do remember that." Kaminari pulls out his phone and starts typing away like a madman. Not seconds later a couple of simultaneous dings are heard a bit further up the bus. "Uh, do you know why she cuts it herself though?"

"What's it to you dumbass? She's right there, ask her yourself." he sucks his teeth annoyed, but looks over to you. "Don't tell this shithead anything you don't want to." You smiled at him, your cheeks finding a bit of color before you turned back to Kaminari. You raised your eyebrows at him as though to say, "You heard the man."

Kaminari groans before trying a new tactic. "I mean, I already know the answer. I remember, I was just trying to see if YOU remembered. In fact, I think I probably know more about her than anyone else on this bus." he stated matter-of-factly. You looked at him with an incredulous expression before the hothead across from you spoke out again.

"You're full of shit." he turns to you again, "You cut it that way so it doesn't get in your way! That's why it doesn't matter what the hell it looks like. You're not trying to win fuckin beauty pageants, you're trying to kick villain ass."

"What's going on, what did I miss? What was that text about?" Kirishima crouched in the aisle, looking to Kaminari for answers.

"Kirishima, thank god! Mineta move, let Kirishima sit there, you've been a menace long enough today." Mineta checked the seat Kirishima had just come from and saw it was across from Yaoyorozu and agreed without too much fuss.

"Oh, man, you just missed Bakugo say that the lil lady back here isn't winning any beauty pageants." Kaminari slowly shook his head in mock disappointment.

"WHAT THE HELL? DID I FUCKING SAY THAT??? YOU WANNA KEEP PUTTING WORDS IN MY MOUTH?" Bakugo shot up from his seat, sparks popping off his hands that gripped the back of Ashido and Uraraka's chair, the smell of scorched plastic permeated before Uraraka opened her window.

"It's okay Bakugo, he's just trying to mess with you. You're right though, I just hate having my hair in my eyes so I cut my bangs myself." you blow air up from your mouth and watch as the short choppy fringe fluttered about just a bit. "One of these days I'm gonna have tech support just make me a built-in headband so I can grow them out. The grow-out stage is a bitch, is all. " you laugh.

"So that's why Bakugo called you Fringe for the first year of school!" Kirishima nodded in understanding.

"Hey, Kirishima, do you know her favorite color, by the way?" Kaminari ponders dramatically.

"Uh, It'd be a guess, but no I don't think I've ever asked--What is your favorite color?" Kirishima politely and enthusiastically requested the information from you now.

"Oh! Well now hold on a minute, maybe we SHOULD guess it." Kaminari's words were laced with a layer of sticky entrapment but you were curious to see where he was going with all this nonsense.

"Sure, go ahead." you shrugged.

"Let's take turns guessing. Is it teal?" he looked at you expectantly, and you gave him a cocked side-eye.

"No-"

"OH darn. Okay Bakugo, your turn. What's her favorite color?"

"This is stupid." he huffed

"Well if you don't know, just say so--"

"It's the same as her birthstone, jackass."

Your blush told Kaminari he was correct, or at least close enough.

"What makes you so sure? Did she tell you?"

"Obviously it's the same as her birthstone, she has a bracelet she wears that's that color, so why wouldn't it be? It's not that hard to figure out if you weren't an idiot."

"--you know her birthdate?" Uraraka's eyes were wide and she was blushing profusely, knowing full well what was happening.

"What's her favorite food?" Mina piped up, ignoring the subtlety that Kaminari was attempting, seeing exactly what he was trying to get from the angry blonde.

"How the hell should I know." Bakugo sunk back down in his seat, attempting to put his dead earphones back on, conveying he was done with the interrogation.

"Well that's a tough one anyway, I'll eat just about anything. I'm not picky." you shrugged, trying to save Bakugo from any more annoyance.

"Psh. Yeah, but you have such an annoying sweet tooth. I swear I came down to the common area one time and you were practically scarfing down a cupcake. I thought you'd end up eating the wrapper." Bakugo interjected.

"Oh, that's ... That's true actually!" you grinned. "Well, the sweets part. I was not going to eat the wrapper! Sato had made some for the class. Maybe if you didn't go to bed so early you could of known how amazing it was." you pouted.

"I don't eat sweets before bed, are you nuts? How's anyone supposed to sleep hopped up on sugar? I don't know how you do it." he mumbled, crossing his arms and spreading to take up more room in his seat.

"Ah, well I suppose I do have trouble falling asleep sometimes." you considered, "I should try out your schedule for a week and see if it helps!"

"WHY ARE YOU ALL STARING? What the fuck could you all have to look at? Fucking annoying." Bakugo stopped to yell when he noticed the small group of onlookers were, well, still looking at the two of you.

"Kaminari, he's right, you should mind your own business." Mina said as she and Uraraka turned back around to go back to their own thing. Mina turned to send you a glance and pointed at her phone, indicating you should check your phone.

Looking at your recent messages you see one from the pinkette,

So are you going to pretend it's normal for THAT guy to know everything about you??

You bit your lip as you glanced over at the annoyed guy staring into the back of the seat in front of him. His leg was bouncing in boredom and probably irritation if you had to guess.

Mina was your best friend, but she could be a bit dramatic.

You weren't sure you were ready to tell her that Bakugo had made it known to you that he was interested. Like, VERY interested.

And you were, less obviously, interested back. You knew his favorite food. His favorite color. He even told you things that made him feel insecure and confided his feelings about being a hero to you.

It happened suddenly one day. You noticed him looking at you, like actually looking. He held you back after class and said your actual name and not just fringe. That was when you realized you had feelings for him. You didn't hate the nickname, and you considered yourself on good terms with him. He acknowledged your strength and treated you as an equal. But something about the way he said your name made your mind go fuzzy. It felt like you'd just woken from a dream and saw him for the first time. Were his eyes always that intense?

"I talked to my old man the other day, and he told me some gross shit about how when he and my mom met- she pursued him relentlessly. Borderline insane is what it sounded like to me. My pop apparently doesn't have a spine and he just gave in. Whatever." Bakugo rolled his eyes before waiting for you to say something.

"Oh! Um, I don't know, I guess I can see how that's romantic. Uh, why are you telling me this though?" you shuffled your weight from one foot to the other, noticing there was a bit too much heat bouncing off the two of you.

Bakugo bit the inside of his cheek, taking a moment to find the wording. "I'm not crazy like that. I'm not some clone of my old Hag I just wanted to say." he lifted his arm to stretch his back, his actions nonchalant for such an odd topic of conversation. "Anyway, I waited a year is all I wanted to say, so I think I'm going to persue you now."

"Wh-what? You waited. Ah what?" you stammered, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. "W-what if I don't want you to pursue m-me?" you laughed. You were nervous. And nervous you always say something to deflect the awkward feelings.

"I'm not very good at not getting what I want, but like I said-I'm not crazy like that old hag, I'll let you have your own say. Anyway. I'll see you later." and then he left you standing there dazed and confused.

You looked over to him now, sitting alone in his seat. Why else would you have been sitting in the back if not because you knew he'd be back here? You smile to yourself. While this could be your secret for a little while longer you really couldn't resist after seeing his commitment to knowing you in front of the others.

You pull out your earphones, put one ear in, and hold out the other to Bakugo, who accepts without hesitation. He shoots you a nod and pushes his bag to the floor making room for you to sit by him.

And you do. You probably will for the rest of your life if he has his way, and you're happy with that.

#bakugo katuski #bakugou x reader

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hotvintagepoll · 2 months

Text

Propaganda

Bette Davis (All About Eve, Now Voyager, Jezebel)—She is a bitch and I like her so much. Also: unf. She does it all: rage, vulnerability, romantic passion, hauteur that invites beholders to say "step on me" under their breath. Her work in the 1930s, from melodramas to romantic comedies, is excellent, but I've mentioned 1940s films above because I feel that she really was at her best once the studio allowed her star image to get edgier. Also her decades-long platonic friendships with male co-stars (e.g. Paul Henreid, Claude Rains) are very important to me. Anyway: bow down before Bette Davis, HBIC.

Lilian Harvey (Die Drei von der Tankstelle, Der Kongreß Tanzt, Glückskinder)— Lilian Harvey was one of the most popular German film stars of her time, appearing alongside frequent co-star Willy Fritsch like a European version of Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire. She had it all: she could act, she could dance, she could sing, she was hot, and she wasn't afraid to stick it to the Nazis. During the 1930s, she remained in contact with her Jewish friends and colleagues, which earned her the scrutiny of the Gestapo. When choreographer Jens Keith was arrested for having a sexual relationship with another man, Lilian posted his bail, allowing him to escape to France. She was eventually forced to flee Germany herself, and her film career never recovered. She is perhaps best known to American filmgoers from her brief mention in "Inglourious Basterds," when Joseph Goebbels insists that her name not be mentioned in his presence.

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Lilian Harvey:

Bette Davis:

youtube

"The absolute GOAT of vintage cinema. An icon. Her EYES. Any time you see Bette on screen you know she's about to steal the spotlight. Her range is incredible, she can play coy, shy, mischevious, innocent, evil, hideous, beautiful, cunning, and wise all with the same self assurance and talent. I live in awe of her ability. And, of course, she's gorgeous. I think she peaked in 1950 with "All About Eve", at the age of 42- she was in full control of her craft, she's a milf, and her scratchy voice makes me nervous in a good way."

"She’s Bette fuckin’ Davis! She had a great sense of humor and a lovely pair of eyes! She was a camp icon and fuckin’ knew it. And she wasn’t afraid to make fun of herself!"

"shes got a whole song of saying how hot someone is bc they look like her"

"She's got Bette Davis eyes! Incredible character actress, charming, witty as all hell. Her favourite accessory was a lit cigarette."

#lilian harvey #bette davis #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 2

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valya-dudycz-lupescu · 2 years

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Musings on Ice-Pick Joe

I'm not sure why no one is talking about Ice-Pick Joe's death scene, especially with rumors of the Ice-Pick Joe prequel circulating the internet.

The scene where Ice-Pick Joe walked by Sofia's window on his way to the fateful meeting with Katya, stopping to lean against the light post long enough to see two silhouettes come together. (I can't be the only one who was getting Blue Velvet vibes in that scene?) Why isn't anyone talking about his longing? The voyeurism? His fear of abandonment stemming from childhood trauma...after all, his mother picked him, of all his siblings, to leave at the orphanage! She left him with nothing but those appleseeds that he carried around in his pockets.

I'm absolutely sure that Sofia was the unnamed child in Joe's flashback (Jodie Foster was so good as the scrappy, androgynous best friend. She did have a limp in that scene when they were running from the cemetery. We don't actually know at what age Sofia lost her leg. And Donny Osmond was the perfect young Ice-Pick Joe!)

If you watch closely, she had the same birthmark on her shoulder in that first awkward kiss scene that Sofia had when she and Katya fought that night of her birthday, when she ripped her blouse and threw her glass of champagne at the wall.)

But back to Joe on the empty street, those shadows against the wall like shadow puppets, and the way the clock motif came back at that moment? Such haunting music, reprised again in the film score during Joe's death (I still cry when I hear "The Demise of Ice-Pick Joe". Linking to it here, because I played it on repeat when the movie was over. Brilliant and haunting.)

youtube

Remember how the flashbacks showed us that Ice-Pick Joe was really superstitious and believed that he had inherited his grandmother's gifts? If you watch the way Joe looks at the shadows and then down at his watch, you can see him hesitate before going to the docks. Was he hearing voices?

Most people agree that the shadows on the wall looked like a child, but I'm not sure that Ice-Pick Joe's hesitation to go to the dock was about his own son. I think the shadows looked more like that kiss flashback when he and Sofia were children. The frame and perspective are almost the same angle, as if they are being watched from below.

Either way, he is clearly making the choice to leave the past behind that brings him to his tragic and senseless death.

I would love to know what happened that took that gentle young Joe who loved to sing and turned him into the tortured stoic we meet in Goncharov, the only affection reserved for his cat, Mrs. Claws.

(I can't help but wonder if they meant for her to be an echo of Le Befana, the Italian winter witch-goddess who sometimes gets translated as Mrs. Claus? After all, his mama's last words to him when she kissed him goodbye were, "If you're a very good boy, maybe La Befana will bring you to a new home on Epiphany morning, a warm home full of food and presents." Poor Joe never finds that home.) You know, I think that was the first time I heard about Le Befana, and that was one of the inspirations that led me down the road to my own version of Mother Christmas.

Does anyone know if it's true that the Ice-Pick Joe prequel got permission to use "Hotel California" as its theme song? I wonder if we're going to get the story of his time as an unskilled laborer in the vineyards of Napa in the 60s? I was never clear about how he got to America and then back to Italy with a small fortune and hitman skills? They're saying it's like Better Call Saul meets the Sopranos meets Twin Peaks. I'm here for it, especially if they can get Cole Sprouse to play young Ice-Pick Joe.

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doctorcurdlejr · 8 days

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Niko!! what'd you think of I saw the tv glow. I finally saw it last night and noticed you posting about it so I wanted to know your thoughts :)

Levi!!! I was JUST wondering what you were thinking about the movie after I saw you posting about it as well... we are so media discussion pilled in this way, it's awesome. ANYWAYS I've had so many thoughts since I first saw it and I've been trying to turn them into something coherent for a little bit now.

Ummm okay I have written 1k+ words about this movie, the suburbs, and escapism via teen TV.... clearly I was dying for somebody to ask this I guess so thank you for indulging me <3

First and foremost, I absolutely loved it! I've seen it twice now and the first time I watched it I got to see Jane Schoenbrun talk about the film right after. I already really liked it from that first watch alone. I found it so deeply relatable to my experiences - both in terms of growing up gay and trans, but where I am now in my 20s trying to navigate adulthood. Hearing what Schoenbrun had to say really cemented my feelings and thoughts about the film.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer was a big influence on the movie (it's why Amber Benson makes a cameo as Johnny Link's mom). Even though I don't have the same emotional link to Buffy since I never watched it, I recognize it as the same type of warmth I experienced growing up with Riverdale. When Owen says he feels like his insides have been scooped out but that he's too afraid to look and have that wrongness everybody knows is there be confirmed, Maddy simply responds "Maybe you're like Isabel. Afraid of what's inside you." Tears forming but not falling, breathing shallowly, I grabbed the paper and pen the theater keeps at the seats for people to order food with and wrote that line down - the slip of paper is still somewhere in my car. Writing it now almost feels lame in its simplicity, but it felt like my insides were being flayed open.

During the director discussion, Schoenbrun talked a little bit about this idea of how truly fucking bizarre it is to grow up in the suburbs. Like, when we think about the pinnacle of normality in American culture, it's the image of middle-class cis-hetero-white suburbia. At the same time, despite this cultural dream of normality, everybody is hyper-aware that the suburbs are one of the least normal things ever. So, the ACTUAL cultural understanding of it is that it's where we go to, like, passively kill ourselves (*George Costanza voice* WE LIVE IN A SOCIETY YOU KNOW!). This idea isn't new, I mean there are so many films and shows about navigating that specific bizarre dissonance from Rebel Without a Cause to Heathers to Twin Peaks. Probably half the pre-teen to teen TV I watched obsessively growing up, stuff like Strange Days at Blake Holsey High, Making Fiends, Truth or Scare, and eventually Riverdale, were never shy about being weird and morbid and saying "yes, the suburbs are exactly as bizarre and lethal in the ways you can already feel in your bones at 13." I Saw the TV Glow does a really good job of keying not only into that mental dissonance but more specifically into how those of us who have felt so intrinsically weird and different and wrong fell back on these shows like they were capable of doing the emotional version of a rescue breath maneuver after being drowned.

In high school, if there were two things about me that any person who even vaguely knew me could list off it was that I watched Riverdale, and I was a lesbian - and I was mocked more for the Riverdale. At that age, I was, without a doubt, the most miserable I have ever felt in my life. I rarely left the house because my family lived in a development that made me want to scratch my skin off when I walked out our front door. Owen didn't leave the house for days, afraid Maddy could somehow force him out. I sobbed constantly and frequently to depressing indie rock on the floor of my closet while hoping my family would just once read the (honest to god) KEEP OUT poster plastered on my door since I didn't have a lock on it. Owen didn't leave his room for days, afraid of what Maddy recognized in him. I didn't go on dates and kept my chest binder shoved to the bottom of my bookbag while wearing dresses that could've come from a how-to-be the perfect 50s housewife manual. Owen didn't leave his bed for days, afraid of Maddy touching his neck and Isabel's dress. I also watched Riverdale with the kind of zeal you see in a Pentecostal who has found God and started speaking in tongues to let you know it. I own a button that says, "Don't Make Me Go Dark Betty On You," I cherish it in a way that is only achieved by knowing exactly how corny and trite it is and then moving straight past that because well actually, and most people wouldn't get this, she's holding back something deeply dark and wild and- and disgusting. something painful yet intrinsically her. but i get it, obviously. or maybe not obviously! hopefully not obviously, but- basically, I'm just saying I get it: the experience of reflection and recognition through the other and all that.

Whatever, the point is that this movie is one big glaring trans allegory about how it sucks dog shit to live in the suburbs, and even at our most repressed we find these little snow globes of actualization in the glow of a tv screen that isn't afraid to show you the world you see. I've seen some people say that, like, in this context accepting or coming into your transness is this monumental death of self, which I get, but I feel there lacks a nuance in that because either way Owen is dying. Unlike Maddy who buries herself alive only to come out renewed, Owen doesn't kill himself upon facing the reality that the world is constructed to keep him miserable and the only way out is to take back what it is that the world wants to keep scooped out of him. Instead he just passively lets it drag him to a much more permanent death. This lack of suicide sucks in the kind of way that forces you to sit in your car on the midnight drive home and think to yourself am I letting myself suffocate because at some point knowing the misery became less scary than admitting I've been capable of doing something about it the whole time?

Clearly, I’ve been enchanted by the film’s narrative and meta-textual language. If you're familiar with it, you can see how Schoenbrun built this movie like a long-form dream episode of a canceled teen show filmed in Vancouver. Lynchian? Yeah, sure. Riverdalesque? THIS we cannot possibly deny. Schoenbrun said they included Amber Benson as an act of healing the inner rage experienced at Tara’s death in Buffy. This is a Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa ending Riverdale with a bisexual polycule after his gay Archie play got ceased-and-desisted type move. There’s probably more I could say about the soundtrack and the visuals, but I’ve hit over 1k words on this, so I’ll leave it at I enjoyed this movie a lot. :)

Maddy is an out lesbian who left town to escape the misery and found it strapped to her ankles. She slinks out, an animal pressed against the gymnasium floor, and says "I'm not telling you anything you don't already know." Owen looks into the camera and narrates. He cuts himself open with a box cutter, fully acknowledges what's there, and the movie ends with his suffocating apology parade for the unremarkable inconvenience of his excruciating suffering. You can be gay and trans, you can know it and you can stop repressing it, but you're not going to stop suffocating until you can find a way to destroy the part of you that truly deeply does want to die, reaching for the comforting euthanasia of normalcy. Stop visiting the dream of the life you want and make it into your reality with the same kind of unrepentant conviction seen in some underfunded but wildly ambitious teen television series. In other words: you must try to survive the ego death of being weird. A weirdo, who doesn't fit in and doesn't want to fit in!

#i saw the tv glow #riverdale #< the sister tag to me talking about this movie at this rate...#i saw the tv glow spoilers #asks

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cherryredstars · 7 months

Note

Idk if ur requests are open right now, but if they are, please PLEASE can you do this idea I have rn… ok so, I was sorta thinking about how spider!reader and Miguel go on a mission together to retrieve a spiderman, but in this universe it’s a girl version of Miguel. And, Miguel had like a little (big) crush on spider!reader and in this universe there’s a girl/boy version of us that girl Miguel has a crush on, so, Female!Miguel gets attracted to us and fights Miguel all the time for spider!reader attention 🙏 IM BEGGING FOR YOU TO DO THIS PLEASEEE😭😭 also, I love your fan fics😼😼

(Don’t mind my spelling 😭)

1k Prompts

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!reader

Warnings: Pining, Jealousy, Fluff

Summary: You were his first.

Word Count: 961 (Not Edited)

Miguel never understood why people were jealous of others.

The idea of wanting to be like someone else because they looked prettier or did a certain thing better or because they had something he wanted was stupid. He knows that everyone has some fucked up shit happening behind the scenes, and he’s perfectly content to handle his own deal of problems. All in all, being jealous of someone else was a waste of time. And he was ready to die on that hill, until he met her.

It was supposed to be an easy mission, and in and out sort of deal. The only reason Miguel went along on the mission was because it was in a new universe, and he always preferred to check it out for himself. And, of course, he brought you along. As much as he loved watching the way your body moved in your suit and hearing the soft melody of your voice as you went on and on about your day, he always brought you along because you made everything better. Literally. You seemed to have this calming effect on others, helping newly discovered spider men, women, animals, anything under the sun really, process the idea of the multiverse. It wasn’t a big surprise that Miguel had ended up falling under your spell, absolutely adoring the contrast in personalities. But now, he wishes he can pick you up and carry you back to HQ where he can keep you all to himself.

You don’t even notice the displeased look on Miguel’s face as he watches, arms crossed over his broad chest and the smallest of pouts on his lips as he watches you interact with…himself. Herself, technically. It was the biggest surprise to the both of you when you had discovered Miguel’s genderbend protecting the city. She had taken an instant liking to you, making it a point to brush her fingers along your arms, fingers twirling your hair as she talked, going on and on about her version of you. Female Miguel absolutely loved whispering things just loud enough for you to hear, a deep flush coming over your face as you smiled bashfully. It was driving him fucking nuts.

His fingers itched to pull you away from her, to mark you as his and that she could go run off to whatever version of you she had. This one is mine. It wouldn’t count as self-harm if he tested if she had the same pain tolerance as him, right? He promises it’s for research purposes only, no other reason. It definitely is not because he- she- is making not so subtle passes about you staying over and going back to her place. Not at all. Definitely had no correlation to the way female Miguel is leaning in super close to you, lips practically touching your ear as she whispers whatever bullshit she has in her mind. Miguel is practically blind to the way her fingers are ghosting over the front of your suit, circling over your stomach.

When female Miguel makes a move to kiss your cheek, Miguel gives into his urges. With a low snarl, he grabs your arm and pulls you behind him protectively. His eyes are narrowed at himself- herself?- the entire time, female Miguel doing the same to him. They look like rabid dogs fighting over a bag of food, teeth barred and eyes shining red. Both Miguel’s loose their face as your peak behind him, your hand slowly rubbing at his arm in an attempt to calm him down. Miguel throws a cocky grin at female Miguel, who sports an ugly scowl in response as you try to coax them back to HQ.

Of course, things don’t get any better on the way back to base. Female Miguel thinks she has a right to your every second, staying attached to your arm as Miguel walks ahead. Miguel makes it a point to interrupt the conversation every few seconds, giving out rules and explanations that make a vein pop at the side of his female version’s head. He finds absolute joy getting in the way of her advances, only for it to be wiped away when he sees how affected you are at her words and small touches. I could do that, he scowls, I could do that and so much more.

He can only really relax when female Miguel finally opens up a portal to go home, a small whine in her voice as she asks you if you’ll visit her real soon. You can only smile kindly and nod, the promise on the tip of your tongue before Miguel all but shoves himself- herself, fuck- into the portal with an indifferent, “oops”. You can’t help but laugh, finally catching onto his irritated behavior halfway through female Miguel’s visit. You smile sweetly at him, patting his arm as you wordlessly follow him back to his office. Before you can enter though, Miguel pulls you towards a small side hallway, pressing you up against the wall before checking for prying eyes. You stare up at him in a mixture of adoration and confusion, breath hitching when his face gets real close to yours.

His eyes scan your face, a small scowl between his brows that soften as his eyes meet yours. It doesn’t take long for them to wander down to your lips, eyes slightly darkening. You’re completely unprepared when he tilts his head and leans the rest of the way forward. His warm lips meet the corner of yours, the feel of his fangs just barely there. Your world seems to be in chaos as your try to process the action, eyes trailing after his receding form as his whispered words boom in your head:

“Choose me, okay?”

I was supposed to write this yesterday but I had no time and it's so obvious from the way I wrote this. I’m so sorry, I'm always more than willing to redo a request if you don't love it!!!

#cherry's requests🍒#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x you #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel o hara #cherry's specials!🍒

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bro-atz · 8 months

Text

superstar

in which: you punish idol seonghwa in real life because out of everyone in the limited theme cards you missed, it was only him

pair: idol!seonghwa/afab!reader

word count: 3k

content: smut, (minimal) bdsm, slight sadism... oop, oral sex, bedroom sex, so loud the entire dorm hears, unprotected sex (but you're long time partners, so it's consensual), completely consensual!

author's note: i spent a solid hour screaming at my phone to the point where my roommate called me an overdramatic husky all bc i was trying to finish the gd wake up theme but i never got to mcfucking finish it bc the seonghwa card refused to show up and i'm still livid so this is my way of telling hwa to square up (ง'̀-'́)ง

apply for the permanent taglist here! superstar!series: seonghwa, san

You were hanging out in the dorm with the boys while playing SuperStar ATEEZ, a couple of the boys sitting in the living room with you— Yunho, San, and your boyfriend Seonghwa. Usually, you’d get three stars for the songs that San couldn’t get while Seonghwa and Yunho would play through the levels themselves just trying to one up the other. This day, though, you were absolutely livid with the game.

They had dropped a limited edition card pack with a song from their latest comeback six days prior, and you had yet to collect cards for all eight members on the final day with just thirty minutes to spare. You were tapping on your screen angrily as San and Yunho watched with wary eyes— Seonghwa, meanwhile, had gone somewhere in the dorm to do this and that.

“I swear to fucking God, if I don’t get this card, I’m going to kill someone,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Which card?” Yunho asked as he leaned over your shoulder to peak at your screen.

“This fucking bitch,” you pointed to the greyed out card on your screen and huffed. “It’s always fucking impossible for me to get Hwa cards, I’m telling you.”

You purchased another pack and tapped the buttons quickly, trying to see if you got the Seonghwa card you needed, only to get two Mingi C cards for the limited theme.

“Fuck off Mingi!” you shrieked.

Mingi, who heard you, popped his head out of his room and frowned. “What the fuck did I do?!”

You were still angrily tapping away on your phone, so San answered for you, “No, she just keeps getting your card for SuperStar ATEEZ. Nothing personal.”

“Oh, shit… Y/N is playing SuperStar right now?” Mingi said with a grimace on his face.

“Yep,” Yunho confirmed.

Mingi nodded with a frown before slowly retreating into his room— he did not like interacting with you when you were playing SuperStar ATEEZ because you were just too intense for him. Well, at least sober him didn’t like interacting with competitive you.

You had five minutes left and one more attempt at buying the special thirty pack. If you didn’t get Seonghwa in this pack, then hopefully you could get him in the A card pull since you would have bought the special pack forty times by then.

“Come on, come on, come on, come on,” you said under your breath as the cards were revealed.

You didn’t get any of the limited edition theme cards. Fine, at least you had the A pull.

“You have got to be shitting me! Not another fucking Choi fucking San card!” you screamed.

San, scared for his life, immediately rushed to his room. He peeked through the crack in the doorframe. Before you could smash your phone into the ground, Yunho snatched your phone out of your hands and did his best to calm you down, but you were a force to be reckoned with. Out of all the cards you had to be missing, it just happened to be the one person you loved and cared about the most. You couldn’t even get a C version of your boyfriend’s card!

“Park Seonghwa, get your ass over here right now!” you yelled, knowing that the man could definitely hear your voice echoing in the dorm.

Seonghwa immediately rushed over to you, his eyes wide. “Sweetheart? What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

He tried to wrap his arms around you and comfort you as he usually did, but you were not there for it. You knew that you failing to get his card was not your boyfriend’s fault, but you still wanted to take your anger out on him.

“Come with me, you annoying piece of shit,” you told him as held onto the collar of his shirt tightly.

You dragged him all the way to his bedroom and pushed him so that he fell onto his bed. You locked the door behind you then ordered, “Take off your shirt and pants right now.”

“Y/N, can you please tell me what on Earth is going on?” Seonghwa asked while obeying your order. “Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?”

“Baby, I love you, but just shut the fuck up for now because I’m going to kill you right now. I’m very fucking angry.”

You took Seonghwa’s shirt and tied one of his wrists to the headboard while his other wrist was tied up by his pants. You straddled his waist and held his face with one hand, your fingers squishing his cheeks. Seonghwa looked up at you with his starry eyes which were once filled with fear now replaced by desire.

“Why do you continue to evade me, baby? I’m sick and tired of this,” you began your rant. “All I want is to complete my fucking set, but I can’t get your fucking card for the life of me!”

“My photocard?” Seonghwa said kind of cutely since you were still squishing his cheeks— it nearly made you smile, but you held your frown because anger first.

“No, your card in SuperStar.”

Seonghwa let out a puff of air that was most likely supposed to be a giggle, infuriating you further. “It’s not funny, Hwa! I’m really fucking upset! I’m not going to have a complete set, and it’s all your fault!”

You let go of his face to slap his chest lightly. Seonghwa let out a little sigh as he played along and said, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish I could give you the card… How can I make it up to you?”

“Keep your mouth shut. I want you to suffer, now.”

You kissed him harshly, your teeth sinking into his lower lip. Seonghwa’s entire body reacted, and he let out a little grunt, only for you to stop kissing him and slap his face— it wasn’t a hard slap, but it was definitely strong enough for him to stare at you with wide eyes, his boba eyes trembling.

“I told you to keep your mouth shut. If I hear a single noise come out of your mouth, I’ll fucking kill you… You are only to answer when I ask you a question,” you instructed.

Seonghwa gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and answered with a tiny nod. You had to bite your tongue to keep from smiling. Submissive Seonghwa was always a sight to behold because he (for some odd reason) was usually the dominant one in your relationship. Whenever he wore that fuck ass black wife-beater, he always uses the fact that you thirst for him greatly against you in bed and orders you around. It was your turn. You were excited.

“You’ve been a bad boy,” you started, your voice dropping. You lowered yourself so that you could whisper in his ear, “A very, very, bad boy. Do you know why?”

“No… Why?” Seonghwa answered, his voice wavering with both fear and excitement.

You slapped his face. “It’s ma’am to you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am…”

“Good. Do you know why you’ve been a bad boy?”

“No, ma’am… Please tell me why.”

You traced Seonghwa’s jawline with your fingernail, then ran your fingertips lightly from his forehead to his lips. Your fingers lingered on his lips as you told him, “I want you. I don’t want Mingi or San. When I tell you to come, then you better come.”

Your other hand cupped Seonghwa’s stiff crotch. You were talking about his card when you told him to come, but you also meant it in the dirty sense. Your hold on his balls got tighter, making the man’s body lurch.

“You’re not allowed to cum until I say it’s okay, understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good boy,” you said with a nod. Your fingers, which were still on his lips, pushed forward as you said, “Suck.”

Seonghwa took your middle two fingers into his mouth and began to suck, his tongue swirling around them. You pressed your lips together to suppress a moan. You felt your panties getting wetter by the second, but you had to be patient. You wanted everything to be a slow burn to make Seonghwa suffer— the same way his card taunted you for a week.

You reached down his briefs and produced his stiff cock, pre-cum leaking out at an uncontrollable rate.

“You’re a bad, dirty boy. Look at how desperate your dick is for my touch,” you said with a slight smirk as you swirled circles on the top, your finger picking up some of the pre-cum. You then licked your finger, Seonghwa’s face going red. He wanted to look away, but your fingers were still in his mouth. Luckily for him, you wanted your fingers back, and so he was able to turn his head when your fingers withdrew.

“Who said you could look away?” you asked sternly, Seonghwa’s head immediately moving back into place. “You are to keep your eyes on me, got it?”

“Yes ma’am,” Seonghwa said breathily as you moved your hand to his dick and squeezed lightly.

You took off your shirt and placed it on the bed knowing that you were going to need it later. You moved down until your face was right by his penis. You would be lying if you said you weren’t thirsting for his hot, throbbing cock. You wanted him inside you desperately, but slow burn… You had to take your time.

“Now,” you said after placing a light kiss on the top of his penis. “You must keep your eyes on me, you are not to cum until I say it’s okay, you are not to move at all, and I don’t want to hear a single noise come from you.”

Seonghwa nodded, his lower lip trapped between his teeth as he prepared for whatever it was you were going to do to him. You bent down, and Seonghwa braced himself for he was expecting you to take him right into your mouth. You, on the other hand, took your sweet fucking time. You delicately ran your nails along his length, observing his pretty dick. His dick was angry, red, and throbbing, but it was still so gorgeous— just like how Seonghwa was he was angry.

Then, you ran your tongue along his penis, a trail of saliva connecting the head to the tip of your tongue. You wanted to lap him up like an erotic lollipop and not just stick it in your mouth. Seonghwa’s entire body shivered as you continued lick after lick. Your hand rubbed his length as your tongue swirled around the tip. And finally, when you began to suck on the tip of his penis, you intentionally looked up at Seonghwa with what he liked to describe as “your seductive eyes”.

Seonghwa was a mess. He was biting his lip hard, and his wrists were strained— he definitely wanted to push your head down like he usually did and fuck your mouth until you gagged, but you weren’t going to let him. Absolutely not.

You took all of him into your mouth, his penis nearly hitting the back of your throat. You moved slowly, savoring ever little bit of him, which was excruciating for him and you knew it. You were enjoying every single bit of it, noting his trembling thighs and hips, and you continued to enjoy it until he pushed his waist upwards, making you gag slightly. You immediately sat up and slapped his face.

“I said you weren’t allowed to move, didn’t I?!”

“Yes, ma’am, you did,” he replied meekly.

“Then why did you move when I specifically told you not to?”

“…Sorry, ma’am.”

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it, Seonghwa,” you spat as you got off the bed and moved away from him. “You need to beg forgiveness.”

“What happens if I don’t?” he asked, getting a little cheeky, which annoyed the shit out of you.

“Then you can remain like that,” you gestured to his wrists and trembling, erect penis.

Seonghwa’s eyes widened. He shook his head furiously as he said, “No! No, Y/N, please don’t do that! I’m sorry!”

You ran your fingers through his hair and grabbed onto the roots before pulling his head backwards. He stared at you with the same trembling eyes from before accompanied by a quivering lip, intensifying the fire raging inside you.

“What did I say?” you hissed.

“Sorry! I meant ma’am. I’m sorry, ma’am,” Seonghwa was near tears.

You felt a little bad. You both knew that you weren’t actually mad, but you were scared that you were taking it a little too far. Seonghwa had yet to use the safe word you both came up with earlier on in your relationship, but you decided to lay off. Your fingers released his hair. You cupped his face lovingly and left him with a sweet kiss. You tasted a hint of blood as you kissed him, making you realize that Seonghwa bit his lip so hard that he started bleeding.

“Alright, I’ll allow you to call me by my name,” you whispered as you rubbed his cheek with your thumb. “But, I want you to scream my name, okay?”

Seonghwa nodded, his tense body easing up. You got on the bed again and grabbed your shirt, Seonghwa staring at you with wide eyes.

“You’re not going to untie me?” he asked.

“No. If anything, I’m going to tie another piece of clothing around you,” you said as you showed him your bunched up shirt.

“Where?!”

You smirked. Next thing you knew, Seonghwa was blindfolded. You removed the rest of your clothing as a clearly antsy Seonghwa waited for you to touch him.

“Y/N,” he whimpered. “Hurry…”

“I told you what to do. Beg. Scream my name,” you whispered in his ear.

“Y/N! Please! I want you! I need you so bad!” Seonghwa cried loudly while almost thrashing his free limbs about.

“Good boy.”

You straddled your boyfriend, his cock rubbing along your ass crack. You watched Seonghwa bite his lower lip again and squirm while trying to hold back a moan. You pulled his lip out gently with your fingertips and said, “Don’t hold back.”

With that, you positioned yourself and sat down slowly, a loud, long, airy moan echoing in the room. Before you started moving, you thought up the dumbest fucking line and wanted to use it on your struggling boyfriend.

“Hwa, want me to slow it down? Make it bouncy?” you teased.

“Fuck, Y/N, don’t— Hnngh! Ah!”

Seonghwa’s voice cracked as he moaned loudly when you clenched your pussy, which for some odd reason turned you on incredibly. Holding onto the back of your legs for support, you started moving— bouncing—and moaned quietly, wanting to hear more of Seonghwa’s moans, groans, and cries. His breathing was rough and sporadic, egging you on to move faster, causing your own breathing to get rougher the more you tried to refrain from moaning. His hips bucked upwards in rhythm with yours, but that wasn’t enough for his pleasure.

“Y/N, please untie me! I want to touch you,” Seonghwa pleaded.

“That… Defeats the purpose… Of the punishment,” you said while panting.

So, since Seonghwa couldn’t touch you, you lowered yourself so that you were pressing your breasts against his chest. The difference in angle was really doing it for Seonghwa because his voice cracked yet again, his moans getting higher in pitch. You wished that you could see your boyfriend’s eyes in that moment because you knew for a fact that they were rolling to the back of his head— they always did when the two of you had sex.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Seonghwa muttered under his breath, the influx of profanities rolling off his tongue nearly making you cum.

Before he could utter another word, you brought your lips to his and kissed him passionately, Seonghwa’s long and rude tongue invading your mouth within seconds. He could only last so long, though, as his breathing was getting quicker and shallower. The man gasped as you released his lips then trailed painfully sweet hickeys down his neck. Right as you got to his collarbone, you moved your hand to his chest and played with his nipple.

“Oh God!” Seonghwa whimpered. “Y/N, I wanna cum!”

“Okay, baby. Cum inside,” you gave him your blessing (only because you, too, were nearing your climax).

With a final slap of your ass on his hips, you pressed your body down and cried with pleasure. You came first, completely moving yourself off of his cock so that you could squirt, your thighs trembling as you barely held yourself up.

You held Seonghwa’s dick and sat back down on it with another unintentional clench. Seonghwa groaned loudly as he came, his load shooting through you and filling you up. His cock spasmed several times inside you, nearly making you cum once more.

You collapsed on him with a deep sigh and rested for a brief moment before you reached and untied one of the restraints. You remained laying on his chest and listened to his beating heart return to a normal rate, leaving Seonghwa to untie the other restraint and blindfold himself (which he did almost immediately). His arms, once they were free, embraced you, his hands holding onto your ass, his dick still deep inside you.

“Sweetheart,” Seonghwa said his nickname for you softly, prompting you to look up at him. “Fuck, you can’t look at me with those eyes.”

His penis stiffened inside you again. His hands itched to move your ass up and down on his dick, but he didn’t just yet.

“You want to go again, don’t you?” you asked him.

“Yes, please.”

An hour and a half later, you finished up in the shower and emerged from Seonghwa’s bedroom wearing fresh clothes. You saw Yunho sitting in the living room, a grin appearing on his face the second he saw you.

“Get it out of your system?” he asked.

“Yup,” you responded cheerily as you flopped into the arm chair in the living room.

“Coast is clear, boys!” Yunho called out, prompting San and Mingi to emerge from their rooms.

They joined you and Yunho in the living room. San looked around before asking, “Seonghwa?”

“Mortified.”

“You scream his name like every other night, but he’s shy when he screams your name? Tsk tsk,” Mingi shook his head.

“He’s more embarrassed about the fact that his voice cracked,” you had to stifle a laugh.

The other three boys shared sympathetic nods— they’d all been there before.

Several minutes later, Seonghwa finally emerged from his room, his face pink. He was still embarrassed. He joined you in the arm chair and hugged you tightly as you sat on his lap. He dug his face in the nook of your neck and let out a tiny whine.

“Baby, I won’t embarrass you like this again as long as I get your card,” you said softly while petting his hair. “So you better make sure I get the card next time, okay?”

“How the fuck am I going to do that?!” Seonghwa said in despair.

“You could give her your credit card,” Mingi put in his two cents.

“How would that help?”

“She can buy all the packs, even the hella expensive ones. She’ll be sure to finish her set if she gets the packs,” Yunho explained.

“Oh! That’s a good idea! Give me your credit card,” you faced your boyfriend with sparkles in your eyes and an open palm.

“…I’d rather you just punish me, sweetheart.”

You frowned. You grabbed his cheeks and brought him closer to you before whispering threateningly, “Then I won’t have mercy on you next time.”

“…On second thought, let me go grab my wallet.”

#ateez #park seonghwa #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa ateez #seonghwa ateez #broatz

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hazbinfallinginaspiral · 1 month

Note

Vox being protective of Retro in your stuff is kinda adorable. Plus the whole not wanting them to remember his protective actions or his stumbling works is too.

Poor Retro most likely cant remember all the flustered stumbling over words Vox did when they flirted with him. Plus he must have needed a lot of proposing do overs

Anyway wanted to say you think Retro would ever take Vox to a Hell's version of an aquarium? He's got those sharks after all, I completely think the Goofy TV man we saw watching the final battle would be a goof ball at the aquarium and Retro would surely enjoy seeing that I think.

Thanks for reading my ramblings, hope it gave an idea or two!

The gentle hum of excitement filled the air as Vox and I stepped into the aquarium, the vibrant colors and soothing sounds of the underwater world enveloping us in a sense of wonder and awe. Vox's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he took in the sights, his excitement infectious.

"Look at that!" Vox exclaimed, pointing eagerly at a tank filled with colorful tropical fish darting to and fro. "Aren't they magnificent?"

I nodded, unable to suppress a smile at his childlike enthusiasm. "They're beautiful," I agreed, my gaze drawn to the shimmering scales and graceful movements of the fish.

It was when we reached the shark exhibit that Vox's excitement reached its peak. His eyes practically lit up with delight as he pressed his face against the glass, watching the sleek predators glide effortlessly through the water.

"Sharks!" Vox exclaimed, his voice filled with awe. "Did you know that they're one of the oldest species on Earth? And look at those teeth! Absolutely fascinating."

“They’re adorable!” I said, admiring them right alongside him.

“Did you know that sharks have been around for more than 400 million years?” He asked, pulling me over to the tank. “That makes them older than dinosaurs!”

“What? No way,” I said with a smile. “You can’t expect me to believe they survived the same apocalypse that wiped out the dinosaurs.”

“Oh, but they did! And, there are over 400 species of sharks, ranging from the tiny dwarf lanternshark to the massive whale shark,” he said with a grin. He was explaining it all so animatedly, with so much enthusiasm I couldn’t help but be intrigued. “As you probably know, sharks have several rows of teeth, and they can lose up to 30,000 teeth in their lifetime.”

“No! No, no, that one has to be a lie,” I said, shaking my head. He laughed and pointed to an infographic that proved me wrong. “What?! Where does it all go????”

“The ocean floor, where’s it turns to sediment, is eroded into sand over time, or fossilized,” Vox said matter of factly. “Oh! And they aren’t even bloodthirsty monsters, either.”

“Well I knew that part,” I said. I looked at the aquarium where a hammerhead seemed to be swimming around. “They’re adorable, they don’t mean any harm. Most shark attacks are purely accidental.”

“Exactly! Some species of sharks, like the great white shark, can detect a single drop of blood in an Olympic-sized swimming pool, but they’re not interested in humans,” he explained. He walked up to the glass and looked at the sharks with me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me up against him. “Contrary to popular belief, not all sharks are apex predators; some species feed on plankton and small fish. Sharks have an incredible sense of smell, enabling them to detect prey from miles away, which is why they’re such great hunters! If they smell human blood they won’t pursue it, they have better things to do. Fish taste better, and honestly, I can’t blame them.”

“Despite their fearsome reputation, sharks are more threatened by humans than humans are by them, primarily due to overfishing and habitat destruction,” I said, reading off another sign. “Huh. That’s interesting.”

“I know! They’re just the most amazing little things, aren’t they?” He asked, the same big grin on his face. “Did you know that some species of sharks, like the Greenland shark, have incredibly long lifespans, with some individuals living over 400 years?”

I couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm, finding myself caught up in his excitement. Together, we spent hours exploring the various exhibits, marveling at the diversity and beauty of the ocean's inhabitants.

“Oh my god!” I squealed and dragged him away from some coconut crabs to look at sea bunnies. “I love them!”

“Ah, I see I’m not the only one with an interest in marine life,” he said with a small laugh. He looked through the glass at the little guys, less excited than he was about sharks, but curious nonetheless. “So, what makes these little guys so interesting?”

“Sea bunnies are a type of sea slug found in the waters of the Indo-Pacific region. They are known for their cute appearance, with fluffy ‘bunny ears’ and a soft, rounded body, as well as vinbrant colours and intricate patterns,” I explained, pointing to a few. “This one is more common, see its white with little black spots? These are the ones people know best.”

“Oh! They look kind of like you,” Vox said with a smile. He looked between my ‘bunny ears’ and the ones the sea bunny had. “Actually, you guys look a lot alike…”

“That’s because I’m a sea bunny demon,” I said with a laugh. I stood right beside the sea bunny in the tank so he could make the comparison. “You know, like how you’re a TV demon and Val is a Moth Demon. Alastors a deer demon, Velvette is a doll demon. I’m a sea bunny!”

“Oh! I hadn’t thought… wow, okay, that makes a lot of sense,” he said with a nod. “So are those actual ears? How does that work?”

“The ‘bunny ears’ are actually sensory organs called rhinophores, which they use to detect chemicals in the water,” I said with a shrug. I reached up and touched my own for a moment. “It’s a trait we share. Not particularly useful since there’s not an ocean in this ring of Hell.”

“Sea bunnies feed on algae, using their radula (a tongue-like organ covered in tiny teeth) to scrape it off rocks and other surfaces,” Vox said, squinting at a sign as he read it off. He turned to me, looking bewildered. “Do you… do you have that?”

“Nope! I don’t have a need for it,” I said with a grin. I dragged him to a different tank with more colorful sea bunnies. “Anyway! Despite their adorable appearance, sea bunnies are toxic. They absorb toxins from the algae they eat and store them in their bodies as a defense against predators,” I said, matter of factly. “It’s super cool! They’re, like, immune to everything! The toxins can be released into the water if a sea bunny is threatened, making them unpalatable or even harmful to predators.”

“Huh,” he said, thinking about it for a moment. “I never made the connection before. Does that mean you’re poisonous?”

“Sometimes, maybe,” I said with a shrug. I paused for a moment and thought about it. “I… actually don’t know. Huh.”

“Well then.”

“Holy shit! Is that a sting ray?” I asked, running over to another tank, immediately distracted again. “I fucking love stingrays!”

Vox followed along with a smile. Despite how he would rather be with the sharks, still talking about them, he was seemingly content looked at the other exhibits with me. As we made our way through the aquarium, Vox's enthusiasm never waned, his childlike wonder infectious. I found myself grinning and laughing right along with him, every step of the way.

#hazbin hotel #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #writing #vox x reader #my writing #x reader #thanks anon!

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ashleyh713fanfics · 3 months

Text

Dazai X Odasaku!Sister Ch6 and Ch7

Double Post:

Chapter 6: "Why Don't We Go On A Date?"

Chapter 7: "As Long As I Have You In My Life"

Summary: After Dazai's horrifying discovery that he is Odasaku's sister's "lifeline" and "only tie to her brother" the boy tries to give her something more permanent than a sad suicidal mistake like him.

Warning: pm! fifteen year old dazai, Dazai self destructing Odasaku death mentions, mention of torture/cruel training, manipulative behavior from both sides, underage drinking, talks of suicide. I gave Oda's sister a name but you can imagine it as y/n.

(This is chapter six and seven of my fanfic "Timeless" which is now on A03. It carries on from the three part intro I posted a couple days ago. I'll link it below to fully understand the story. Asagao's ability is to stop time for up to six seconds.)

Three Part Intro Here: (just cause the first chapter is so long)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

A03 Version Here:

Word count: 10k total

Chapter 6:

Osamu..I think you’re a good man.

Six little words, six little words brought his entire world to a stand still.

The foolishness of them danced across Dazai’s brain over and over again trying to decipher anything and everything about them only to come up empty. He couldn’t comprehend them, he couldn’t form them into reality no matter how hard he tried.

So much so, that time passed by in a millisecond, Dazai staring at absolutely nothing, not present in the world at all.

The bustling laughter of children as they made their way to school, the soft music from the speakers of the nearby shops, the feeling of a soft breeze across his features, none of them registered inside his brain.

The only thing that did was the weight on his back, both emotional and physical as Asagao’s form slept motionless, unaware of the malfunction she had ushered by saying those six stupid, foolish and dangerous words.

Just then, his phone started to sound inside his pocket only for the executive to finally look down and pull the object out, the move causing Asagao’s lips to let out a disgruntled groan in the process in order to shift the back of her head further across his shoulder.

Answering the call, Dazai then heard a very familiar voice, pissed off per usual. “Hey Dazai! Where the hell are you!? I’ve been waiting for you to start this raid for three hours! You better get your sorry ass over here right now before I kick ya into next week, you hear me?!”

At that, the boy’s eyes couldn’t help but flash with realization. Oh yeah, that’s right. Chuuya and him were supposed to raid a rival organization's hideout today.

You see, the thing was, that whole little plan had slipped his mind because it was so utterly unimportant to him in every possible way.

So much so, the bandaged menace lifted an eye in amusement. “Oh yeah, I decided I’m not coming! I got more important things to do. So do your best in my place, kay?”

Lifting the phone away from his ear, he then waited as Chuuya’s voice shouted straight through the speaker, peaking the audio from how close he was to the device. “Ha?! You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me! You can’t just ditch!! What the hell do you gotta do instead?!”

Dazai then put a finger up to his lips before humming back teasingly. “So nosey Chuuuya, are you jealous?”

Almost immediately, the hot headed boy replied, disgusted by the notion. “Why the fuck would I be..!

Yet that’s when the mafioso smirked before reaching forward in order to wrap his fingers around one of Asa’s crimson strains of hair hanging by her back in order to speak suggestively. “If you must know, I’m spending my day with a beautiful woman. So now you see why I can’t be there for your little raid. I’m already gonna have my hands full with something else.”

The way he spoke those words, it was like he was implying something. Like he had just found another whore to sleep with and break for his own pleasure. And although that wasn't the case this time, Dazai knew that Chuuya would make the incorrect connection for him.

And a moment later, the idiot man did just that. “You sick bastard! I swear to god I’m gonna..”

Dazai only cut him off though, satisfied with the rage he had incurred before cheerfully replying back in a devious tone. “Oops! Seems like there's a bad connection. Gotta go, Chuuya! Now go be the good dog you are and capture that organization for me! Kay, byeee!”

Then before he could interject, the brown haired mafioso quickly hung up the phone before throwing it into the grass with a large sadistic smile.

Ah, that was better. Nothing like Chuuya’s idiot thinking to snap him back to reality.

Glancing back towards the sleeping Asagao, Dazai then lifted his hands up in order to physically push her head off of his shoulder only for the girl to groan in irritation, still not awake yet.

Dazai then turned his body only for Asa’s head to fall onto his lap instead, the sudden warmth causing her to snuggle deeper only for the boy to tense at the sudden contact. Did this girl have no shame? She was just cuddling up with a murderer like nothing.

Forcing himself to relax at the contact, the man then looked at her in exasperation. Damn, this girl slept like a rock. He supposed he’d have to try something else.

Lifting his hands up, he then slipped his fingers around the large circular frames of her glasses in order to pull them off slowly with hum. “Time to wake up, sleeping beauty. Being so defenseless around a man like me, it’s not a wise decision.”

She didn’t respond though, causing the boy to then narrow his expression before pressing his forefinger straight in the middle of her forehead roughly and poke the surface only for her to finally flop her eyes open with a whine. “Samu..”

What was going on? She was so warm, so comfortable.

Hold on, why was Osamu in her dreams?

Just then, Asa then seemed to register the situation before she blinked in realization in order to propel her head off of his lap and gasp. “Osu?!”

Laughing at her confused state, Dazai then turned his head towards the fumbling girl. “Good afternoon, sweetheart. Glad you could join us today.”

Asagao was still groggy though, the events of last night not fully registering as she placed a hand to her head. “W-What? What happened? Why was I…”

Yet Dazai was happy to cut her off, his voice coming out pained and over dramatic as he held his back with a fake little pout. “You fell asleep on me and now my back really hurts. You’re so mean, Asa-channn making me stay here like this. Owwie..It was so uncomfortable!”

It wasn’t really, but the boy wasn’t about to tell her the real reason why he had stayed complacent the whole time. He didn’t want her to know that he had malfunctioned beyond basic human understanding.

That just the mere belief in him had caused the boy to unravel.

Asa only turned her head though, not really buying his “poor me” act in the slightest. “But you stayed here this whole time? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Almost immediately, the girl was confused. She knew Dazai wasn’t a touchy kind of guy, so the fact that he had willingly let her sleep on his shoulder for hours wasn’t in his character. So why had he done it? Why had he allowed such a thing?

And that was the question wasn't it? Why didn’t Dazai wake up, why did such a simple yet foolish statement cause him to lose sight of reality. It was stupid, he was stupid for it. Those words didn’t even mean anything. So why was he so enamored by them all the same?

But of course, he said none of those things, his mind an impenetrable fortress as he only smiled goofily in order to cover up his own conflict. “How could I when you looked so cute?”

Asa didn’t even blink though, seeing through his facade in an instant. “I’m being serious Osu, you didn’t have to stay here for hours. You should’ve just thrown me off. I’m sure you had something important to do today.”

That’s what he should’ve done, both of them knew it. Dazai wasn’t the kind of man to just selflessly allow such a thing to happen. Usually he’d just leave them in the grass and abandon them all together.

But this time, for some reason that Asa couldn’t figure out, he stayed.

Not wanting to talk about such things anymore, Dazai then glanced towards the phone a couple inches away from him before recalling Chuuya’s pissed off reaction.

And yes, he did have something to do today but letting his partner struggle was way more fun. So maybe this wasn't so bad after all.

Because of that, the boy simply shrugged before fixing his crumbled black jacket carelessly. “Nothing interesting, but I must thank you, love. You gave me something far more entertaining in return.”

Not understanding Dazai then watched Asa bat her innocent little eyes and turn her head in return. “And what’s that?”

Already feeling his lips curve into a smug sadistic smirk, he finished cheerfully. “Why, an opportunity to mess with my favorite dog!”

In fact, Dazai could already picture the stupid dumbfounded look on Chuuya’s face when he told him that he was ditching. It was music to his ears. Now he couldn’t join the raid, not when he had already gotten such a satisfying reaction from his favorite toy.

And though Asa didn’t fully understand what he was saying, his twisted response didn’t bother her in the slightest. In fact, it was the opposite, the girl thinking he would’ve been pissed after hours of having to be her pillow.

Brushing the dirt and grass off her skirt, Asagao then pushed her feet to stand before looking out towards the bustling sounds around her. “Well, I’m glad you’re not mad but I guess I should be heading back. I already took up way too much of your time.”

After this annoying night, the only thing she wanted now was to crawl back in her bed before she died of embarrassment from drooling on her brother’s best friend's shoulder without knowing. In fact, she could already feel the heat emerging to her cheeks at the memory.

Yet that’s when Dazai paused before glancing towards the girl. “That might not be the best idea, love.”

Asagao then paused only for the mafioso to grab his phone in order to show her the message he had received just a couple minutes prior. “I had my men stake out the place and it seems like Ango is still there. If you go back now he’ll probably try to drag you back again..”

Then all at once, she felt her face fall. Oh yeah, Ango. She had forgotten about that stuck up, straight laced, government agent. Damn it, looks like she couldn’t relax like she wanted to now that he was chasing after her again.

Grumbling to herself, Asa then ran a hand across her face with frustration before shaking her head in exasperation. Just when would he give it a rest? “...Great...looks like I can’t go home after all..”

She then closed her eyes, trying her best not to show her annoyance before Asa sighed in order to turn back to the bandaged boy with a wave of her hand. “Either way, thanks again, Osu. I’ll let you get back to your illegal activities now.”

Dazai then watched her start to leave, already knowing that she was going to bumble around the city in order to kill time until Ango left. The question was, would she even make it back home with her blurry offset eyesight? Now that was to be determined.

Just then, last night's events began to play in his mind like some kind of punishment. There was her voice again, mocking him into still silence.

Osamu..I think you’re a good man.

Just great. First Odasaku was haunting him and now his sister was doing the same. Why couldn’t he get her foolish little statement out of his head?

It’s not like he was happy about it, it was just a delusion on her part after all. Although now that he thought about it, Asagao seemed to delude herself about everything.

She deluded herself by hoping that life had meaning, she deluded herself into never looking at the negatives and she deluded herself into thinking her big brother resented her even though it was not true.

But the biggest mistake she seemed to make was picking Dazai to be her constant, her unmovable tangible source of Odasaku’s life. Sure, letters were one thing, they were physical, unchanging, but him? He knew that he wasn’t reliable in that sense.

Yes, Dazai knew himself better than anyone else. He was fragile and flighty, a flicker in this pathetic life that could burn out with just a slightest blow of air. He was wavering and artificial, and the fact that she had so openly stated that he was her lifeline was something that the boy found incredibly foolish.

Because he couldn’t give her what she desired, what she needed more than anything.

She couldn’t ground herself with him, even if she wanted to.

Because Dazai didn’t want to live, he didn’t want to wake up tomorrow and carry on with this joke of a life. And one day he was sure he would succeed in his wish to finally disappear from this world entirely. It was inevitable, and yet Asagao still clung to his physical body simply because she had nothing else to prove Odasaku’s writings.

And Dazai knew she would be ruined like that, that putting such desperation into an already dead man would result in a cataclysmic detonation beyond human prescription.

Because of that, the boy felt himself move, reaching forward in order to grasp onto Asagao’s hand and pull her against his chest. “You know, since we are now both suddenly free. Why don’t we go on a date?”

Asagao only paused though, feeling the warmth from the proximity before turning to look at him in confusion. Did she just hear that right? No, it couldn’t be. “You’re asking me on a date?

Lifting his hands up with excitement, Dazai then spoke back. “Why not! My darling girlfriend has planned two of them already. I think it’s time I do the honors this time.”

And he thought Asa would jump for joy at that, although it seemed she only stared at him with disbelief, like she couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. “I didn’t think you’d care about that kinda thing..”

Pouting his lips, Dazai then jumped back from the girl in question before dramatically whining back. “How mean, Asa-chan. How could you say such hurtful things to your boyfriend like that? Did you ever think I just wanna spend some extra time with my cute girl?”

Once again though, Asa deadpanned, not buying his boy-ish act. “Not really no..”

Gasping at her blunt reply, Dazai then shoved his hand over his heart in order to hunch over like he had been shot. “Ouch. You wound me, love! I don’t know how I’ll ever recover now!”

Although that’s when Asagao simply shut her eyes before giving a heavy sigh in order to turn back to the boy with a light smile. “Osamu, I appreciate the gesture but you know you don’t have to push yourself like that for me. I’ve already bothered you enough by going past our agreement and fell asleep on your shoulder without asking. I couldn't expect more.”

At that, Dazai couldn’t help but pause. Ah, she knew he was going out of his character and pushing himself past what he would normally do. What a clever girl, picking him apart like that. He couldn’t help but admire it.

And though she was right in a sense, it wasn’t about want or not. It was more of a need. The need to give Oda’s sister something more reliable and tangible then just a sad suicidal boy like him, something that wouldn’t fade from her fingertips without warning.

Because of that, Dazai simply reached forward in order to hold onto both her hands, a new sparkle in his eyes. “Aww Asa-chan, you’re so sweet for worrying about me. My heart has been restored! And don’t worry about the agreement, just think of this little outing as a freebie!”

Asagao still didn’t seem overly convinced though, the girl trying to decipher his hidden intentions silently as Dazai smugly smiled. Oh, she was working overtime to get into his head, wasn’t she? Too bad he wasn’t going to reveal this little secret.

And just as the boy predicted. Asa was stumped. She knew he wasn’t being genuine about asking for a date, that he had some kind of plan underneath it all. Hell, the boy didn’t even care about her, that much was already established. So why all of a sudden had Dazai asked for this strange request?

She was curious, sure, but Oda’s sister still tried to stay strong, knowing she had already burdened him way too much today. Who cares if he was trying to manipulate her right now into something, their agreement was only about the letters. Nothing else.

And she had already broken that rule tonight. No, she couldn’t break it any further.

Yet that’s when Dazai lowered his eyes slowly before adding nonchalantly. “Oh, and did I forget to mention we are going somewhere that has to do with Odasaku?”

Then all at once, Asagao felt her head immediately snap back to his. Wait, he was going to take her somewhere that her brother visited? Damn it, he knew she couldn’t resist that, not when she had been searching for traces of him all throughout Yokohama.

Dazai on the other hand was smiling like a fiend, knowing that he had her right where he wanted her. From just the look on her face he knew she was squirming with conflict right now. Just the way he liked it.

A moment later, Asagao replied, her voice slightly desperate. “Where?”

The mafioso then darkened before pushing a mocking finger up to her lips in order to cut off her curiosity. “Ah ah ah, you gotta say the magic words first. Now, let’s try this again..”

Pushing his fingers away, Dazai then dipped his head down in a dramatic bow in order to lift his hand out to the girl in question, already knowing she was trapped against a metaphorical wall. “What do you say, love? Will you go on a date with me?”

And for a moment, Asagao paused, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. But the more the silence clung onto the air, the more her fingers began to fidget and twitch with the idea of finding out more about her brother.

Then all at once, her resolve faltered before muttering under her breath with embarrassment. “As long as you don’t mind..”

Yet Dazai only shook his head at the weak attempt, wiggling his fingers in front of her before humming back in dissatisfaction. “I need a yes, love.”

And then he waited, he waited for the submission that was a guarantee. Yes, Asagao was clever, she read him a million different ways but it seemed he still knew how to get what he wanted. And this time, he would win their little game.

Taking a heavy breath, Asagao then closed her eyes before lifting her hand out to the devious man in question, already knowing she had lost this round. “Yes, Osamu. I’ll go on a date with you...”

Although before her fingers could make contact with her hand, Dazai immediately closed the distance before grasping onto her hand with an excited cheer. “Yay! Now that wasn’t so hard, was it? Come on, let’s go!”

He then shifted his fingers down to her wrist before turning around in order to drag the poor girl down an uncertain path as Dazai beamed happily, pulling his tamed little puppy along the way.

And with that, he marked another tally in victory.

Dazai Osamu: 2 Oda Asagao: 1

----

Chapter 7:

Throughout her blurry uncertain vision, Asagao felt her body pulled towards the unknown as she focused on the solid black mass that had consumed her whole world. And whether he realized it or not, the girl slowly felt the outside murmurs and voice disappear into her own mind.

Because nothing else but him mattered to her.

Osamu seemed to have that effect on her every time she saw them, Asa always desperate to soak in everything about the oblivious boy regardless of the barriers in front of her eyes. His words, his actions, the way he held himself, the cadence in which he spoke, she categorized it all.

Which was why his decision to take her on this date was so odd.

Because as far as she knew, Osu wasn’t that kind of man. He was a cruel, manipulative, mafia executive that only did things out of pure entertainment or for some kind of tactical advantage.

Yes, her brother was different but Asagao knew that the blood in her veins didn’t fully protect her from Dazai’s real character.

Which was fine. She didn’t care that he was incapable of emotion and kindness. That’s not why she was here in the first place. She wasn’t that simple minded, and the last thing she wanted him to do was force himself out of that box and make him uncomfortable.

But it seemed that today he wouldn’t take no for an answer which meant that he either had some other intention with their date or he was pushing himself to do something strange for the sake of Oda.

Sighing to herself, Asagao then paused as her body collided with the mafia executive, not realizing the man had stopped completely. Oh, were they here already? She didn’t recognize this part of town.

Yet that's when she felt his fingers reach forward in order to snatch the large circular frames from her face, eradicating her safety net as Asa’s eyes widened in fear. What was he doing? She didn’t want to see the world right now. “O-Osam..”

Although before she could protest, Dazai replaced the object with his hands, pushing her back against his chest in order to darken her surroundings before she could have time to process them.

Then she heard his voice, sharp against her ear. “You’ll want to fully see this, love.”

Fully see it? No, that was impossible. She didn’t want to see anything, she didn’t want to decipher anything fully. Then she would see the darkness, she would see the cracks in the perfect facade that life displayed.

Dazai seemed to sense her distress though, his tone teasing as his fingers pressed deeper across her eyes to show her that they weren’t going anywhere. “What’s wrong, don’t trust your boyfriend? Afraid I’m going to hurt you while you’re defenseless like this?”

He was trying to scare her, to intimate her per usual. But if he thought that she was going to crumble between his fingers then he was sorely mistaken. “You know that’s not why..it’s just..my eyes..”

Asa then heard him laugh in pure amusement before his bandaged arm brushed against hers in order to lift the surface and place it on an unknown doorknob in front of them. “Don’t worry, darling. I got you.”

Did that mean he was going to keep her eyes covered for her until they got to where he wanted her to see? But what if he slipped up, what if he let go accidentally or for some kind of joke? What he was asking for required a lot of trust, trust from a boy that thrived on sadistic games.

But even so, Asa complied, her fingers turning open the door as Dazai urged her forward in order for her breath to lodge inside her throat with each step. She had nothing to guide her, nothing but his body to rely on.

Just then, his fingers found her wrist before lifting them up in order for her to register a railing as the mafioso hummed back into her ear. “Count the steps, love. There are twenty of them.”

And so she did, the girl gripping around the railing for dear life as she counted each invisible step in her mind, careful not to trip as her back brushed against Dazai’s body in order to ground herself.

Finally reaching the bottom, Asagao then sighed in relief only to hear him speak once again, the sound causing shivers to run down her spine. “Good girl, here’s your reward.”

Yet that’s when she felt the safety of his fingers start to disappear from her eyes, causing Asa to gap in horror. Wait, what was he doing? He hadn’t given her glasses back. Was he serious about her seeing this place with her eyes? No, that was too scary.

Blinding lights then filled her vision, causing the girl to squint before she couldn’t help but freeze at the very sight before her. And in a millisecond, she seemed to forget her own rule about viewing things from a blurry lens.

Because staring back at her was a small cozy little bar, the atmosphere warm and secluded with rows of stools and the smell of liquor wafting through the air.

Wait, she had seen this place before.

Aggressively shoving her hands into her pockets, Asagao then pulled out the picture that Dazai had shown her last night before her eyes couldn’t help but widen with realization in order to lift the photo in front of the place slightly.

Her assumption was right, it was a perfect match.

Feeling any response fall silent in her throat, Oda’s sister whispered. “Is this…”

Dazai finished for her, his hands in his pockets as he looked at the place in nostalgic sadness. “Bar Lupin, where the picture was taken.”

And almost immediately, Asagao felt her throat fill with emotion in order for her vision to blur with tears only for her to immediately blink them away.

No, she didn’t want to only see the blurry picture of this place. She needed it to be real, to soak in every nook and cranny into it was permanently etched in her mind.

Now she knew what Dazai had meant by saying she would have wanted to fully see this place without the barriers of her glasses. He was right, he was so incredibly right. This feeling, these physical floorboards under her feet. They felt so real.

Her big brother had stood in this same exact spot, he had breathed in the same air and had seen the same view.

Sure, she had been living in his old apartment for some time but Asagao had no proof that he had ever inhabited the place.

But with the photograph between her fingers, Asagao knew that her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her. Oda was here, and now so was she. The idea was so simplistic and yet it brought her so much joy, her hands unable to stop the shake and smile towards the empty bar.

Then she turned to the supposedly heartless mafioso before speaking through her tears. “Osamu, this is..thank you..I’m so happy..”

So this is what he was trying to show her? He must have gotten the idea after hearing her outburst to Ango about not having anything but Osamu to cling to. How sweet, he knew she needed this more than anything.

He always tried to act so scary but he really was like this, huh?

Dazai on the other hand stared at the empty place in silence as a mix of grief and familiar comfort coursed through him all at once. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t come back after Odasaku's death, and yet here he was all the same.

The memories, the feelings were all so suffocating, he wished he never felt them in the first place. But this was the only place that Dazai knew Odasaku in, this was the only place that he could give Asagao. Because of that, he had gone against his own wishes.

At least this place wouldn’t fade like himself, and that was enough for Dazai.

That’s right, now when Dazai finally succeeded to die, when he left this world he knew that she could wallow her sorrows here, she could find her big brother in these walls.

Now the boy wasn’t the only physical tie to Odasaku she had.

Yeah, now he could die with peace again without the guilt of destroying the last piece of his best friend that resided in this shitty little life. Did that make him a good person? He wasn’t sure but this was something he felt like he had to do.

For Odasaku, and for his precious little sister that the man had left in his fingers.

Closing his eyes, Dazai then tried to wash away the feeling before settling into his usual seat by the bar in order to wave over the girl in question. “Let’s have a drink, love.”

He then watched as she complied immediately, slipping into the stool beside him only for an unpleasant deja vu to fill his throat. Without her glasses she looked even more like Odasaku, especially from this angle.

The bartender turned to him immediately, his tone plain. “What will it be, Dazai?”

Tapping his fingers onto the top of the table, the mafioso already knew the answer. “Whiskey.”

Then the boy turned his gaze towards Oda’s sister only to rest his head on the palm of his hand with a slight tease. “Well, what about you, darling? Don’t worry, they have apple juice.”

He didn’t expect her to actually drink alcohol of course. She was just a fifteen year old girl, hardly old enough for liquor.

And hey, so was he but being in the mafia gave him a free pass. Besides, considering his other crimes, underage drinking was pretty low on the list of immoral behavior.

Yet that’s when Asa pushed her lips together cutely before pushing her hand up in order to shield her hollow eyes and reply to the bartender. “Make that a double, please..”

At that, Dazai couldn’t help but raise an eye, not expecting her response.“Ooooh, I’m impressed. But your brother would’ve had a heart attack hearing that.”

And he really would have. In fact, Dazai knew Odasaku would’ve definitely shut down Asagao's request for alcohol. Unlucky for her though, the boy wasn’t that considerate about laws and such.

What could he say? Ango was right, he was a bad influence.

Two amber colored drinks then slid into view as Asagao lightly traced her finger around the rim with a hum. “Would he? Then he better not find out that I started years ago.”

Years ago, huh? Perhaps Asagao wasn’t as good of a girl as he once thought. “How scandalous, Asa-chan. Should I tell Ango about that?”

At that, he watched her scrunch her nose up in disgust. “And what about you, Osu? You’re the same age as me.”

Dazai only hummed though, knowing it wasn’t the same. “I’m also a criminal, love.”

Asagao was silent, like she was processing the words before she threw the entire drink into the back of her throat before whispering bitterly. “Yeah well, so was I.”

The words were so small and yet Dazai heard every symbol before curiosity and intrigue couldn’t help but take up his entire throat. Now why did she have to say something like that? Now he wanted to pry into her mind and pull out an answer.

And there were many ways to do it, but none of them were savory in any way. You see, Dazai was skilled in manipulation and exploitation. He could seduce and coax even the strongest willed people.

So trying to make Asagao talk about her life was as simple as blinking for him.

It didn't matter if she seemed bothered when Ango brought it up last night. He’d get her to talk about it one way or another.

Lifting his hand up excitedly, Dazai than beamed towards the bartender before waving. “Two more!”

And as two more sets of liquor appeared in his vision, the boy simply slid them over to Asa with a fake innocence and a smile. “Go ahead, Asa-chan. And don’t worry about the price, it’s on me.”

He then watched Asagao look down at the new glass before picking up the object between her fingers.

And for a moment, Dazai thought he had succeeded in his bribe.

Although that’s when the girl simply closed her eyes before speaking into the glass plainly. “You know, Osamu. You don’t have to get me drunk. I’ll answer any question you want.”

At that, Dazai felt himself pause before his smile dropped all at once in order for him to change into his true cruel nature.

Ah, he should’ve figured it wasn’t gonna be that easy to coax her into his plans. He still wasn’t used to that, having someone that could read him almost instantly like a book.

Although that’s when he truly processed her words. Wait, did she just say that he could’ve just asked her about her life? Interesting, Dazai had never had that before. Usually they shut him down and he had to resort to dirty tactics.

How refreshing and yet utterly stupid on her part to open up to a man like him

Parting his lips to reply, he then watched as Asagao quickly downed the two drinks he had given her anyways, causing his eyes to flash with confusion.

Hold on, she had already figured out his plans to get her drunk and yet she was still going along with that anyways? What a strange girl. He thought she’d just push the glasses away.

And with no answer to his intrigues, Dazai couldn’t help but speak back. “Then why are you still accepting it?”

Pushing the glasses down from her lips, he then watched as Asagao paused before answering with a small smile. “Cause if you think I should be drunk for this conversion then I figured I should take you up on that offer.”

She still wasn’t looking at him though, and Dazai concluded it was because she still felt uncomfortable because he hadn’t given her glasses back yet. It’s not like he minded though. She was really cute when she hid her face like that, all shy and meek.

So instead, the boy didn’t speak about it, watching her call for another round of drinks before Dazai started his interrogation now that there was a rosy pink color to her cheeks. “Ango called you a hellhound. ”

Almost immediately, Asa laughed under her breath before swirling the drink between her fingers. “Ah, so that’s what it is. You were right to order those drinks.”

Dazai then watched as the girl threw back another shot before speaking distantly, like she was wrapping herself in some sort of memory. “The Hellhounds are an elite level of assassins, brought up from birth to be the perfect tools to those that hold their leash. Oda and I were orphans that were brought up into the same faction but because of my different way I saw the world,I was chosen as a candidate to be a hellhound.”

Smiling bitterly, Asa then lifted a finger up to her throat before ghosting across the skin. “By age five I knew how to run a knife across someone's throat and put a bullet in their brain without them knowing. My ability allowed quick, precise and clean kills. You could say I was a bit of a prodigy, just like you are.”

She then pushed, her face falling with unpleasant memories. “But the training..was intense...”

And as Dazai listened to her explanation things started to make sense. He didn’t know much about Odasaku before he joined the port mafia. He knew he was a freelance assassin but that’s about it. It made sense that he got those skills from somewhere.

But try as he may, he couldn’t see sweet little Asagao as a bloodthirsty prodigy like he was. Sure, she had fought him before but the girl never seemed to intend to kill.

Unless she was holding back on him this entire time.

Ah, what a sneaky little princess. So hypocritical to tease him about playing around with her when she was clearly doing the same thing. She threw that gun away on purpose and limited her ability use during their fight to make it seem like he had the advantage.

Now he wanted to fight her for real to see just how scary she could really be.

Turning his head in curiosity, Dazai then pointed his finger towards her distant expression. “Is that how those pretty little eyes of yours became so hollow and empty?”

He then watched as she clutched the empty glass between her fingers before the mafioso silently slid the rest of his drink over to her only for Asa to accept it gratefully.

Damn, the answer to that question must’ve really been traumatic given that she needed more alcohol in response.

And though most men would’ve changed the subject, Dazai only let her compose herself, silently watching as she closed her eyes before replying. “They made me see the darkest part of the world, they waterboarded me, disoriented me and then forced me to analyze every single depravity that the human mind could conjure up. It wasn’t for the weak of heart and… it broke something in me permanently...”

Then before she could process it, memories and past feelings couldn’t help but creep up her spine. They were blurry and out of order but Asa got enough to know that her time as a hellhound wasn’t the most pleasant.

Even now, she could feel the sharp cold chill of the icy tub as her ears drowned out any semblance of noise only to be assaulted with fingers on her face in order to scream at her to analyze the situation before her. She felt the blinding feeling of pepper spray in her eyes and blows to her head as she tried to answer the prompts that her captives had given her.

She even felt the lingering sensation of cloth around her eyes as they plunged her into pitch black darkness for months on end only to blind her with bright lights and disorient her further.

Her spine then began to shiver before forcing her eyes back open in order to blankly stare at the amber colored liquid in front of her. “I can’t turn it off anymore, I can’t help but see every fucked up corner of people’s intentions. My eyes catch every spec of darkness, every disappointment. So much so that it hurt to see, still does. I hate it, this thing they made me into..”

And that was the thing she hated more than anything. It wasn’t that those people had molded her into a robotic mold of their perception. It wasn’t that they essentially tortured her into their own design.

It was the fact that she was now permanently damaged, doomed to live the rest of her life in a sacred manner. She couldn’t look at the world anymore without seeing the bad. She couldn’t escape the sharp headaches and nauseous feelings in her chest just by wishing she was any semblance of normal.

Some days she even thought about ripping her own eyes out of her sockets, to perfectly gouge them out and blind herself so that she didn’t have to perceive anything ever again.

Forcing herself to carry on, Asagao finished robotically. “But one day my body couldn’t keep up. They left me to die because I was no longer sufficient and Oda found me. Then he faked my death, hid me away, gave me my glasses so I didn’t have to see anymore and became an assassin in my place.”

At that, Dazai felt his fingers slip into his pockets before feeling the metal of her glasses in order to pull out the object and place them on the table.

He had taken them for her benefit but now that the boy knew the full story of such insignificant objects, it didn’t seem right to withhold them anymore from her.

Sure, Asa had vaguely told him about the reasons for her glasses but now that the details were all laid out, Dazai couldn’t help but look at her with a new light.

These lenses weren’t just a preference, they were a necessity to her.

She needed them just like Dazai needed his bandages, and that was something the fifteen year old boy could understand quite well.

It seemed like they had more in common than he originally thought.

The girl accepted the glasses immediately, her fingers wrapping around the objects before placing the safe guard around her eyes before smiling softly in return. “And now, I’m free, my big brother gave me freedom.”

Freedom? The term was incomprehensible for the young boy. What did that feel like, to be free? To not be tied down by the darkness of the past? He didn’t know.

Just then, Dazai’s mind filled with that same twisted mindset he had come to know. What a stupid girl, she was talking about freedom when she was sitting next to one of the most dangerous men in Yokohama.

She had just dangled her skills and past resume in front of his face so carelessly.

Swirling his finger around the rim of his drink, the mafioso threatened back. “Shouldn’t you be a little more cautious about telling me all of this so easily? I am the demon prodigy after all. I could force you back into that life..”

And he could. If he really wanted to, Dazai knew he could pull her into the port mafia and use her talents for his own selfish desires. She had to have known that.

But then why was she just spilling such dangerous secrets so easily?

Asagao only hummed though, his threat leaving her unshaken. “Hypothetically yes, and I’m sure you’ve thought about it at least once or twice. I’m a tempting offer after all. Any executive would jump at the chance to use me..”

Then he watched as Asa narrowed her eyes for a moment before adding lightly. “But unlike what Ango believes, I know you won’t actually do it.”

Wouldn’t actually do it? Now that was a bold statement. He wondered what proof she had for that. “And why is that, love?”

Although that’s when Oda’s sister turned her body towards him for the first time since their conversation in order to speak with a victorious tease. “Cause it’s not what Oda would’ve wanted.”

At that, Dazai felt his lips curve into a bitter smile. Ah, she was right. She knew that Odasaku’s blood in her veins was keeping her safe. It was almost like she was rubbing that little detail in his face. Low blow.

For as dark and twisted as his mind was, Dazai knew that Odasaku had spent years trying to keep his little sister safe. Sure, having her in the port mafia would be a great benefit, but it would also ruin everything his best friend had ever worked for.

And that was something Dazai couldn’t do, no matter how evil he claimed to be.

Feeling himself laugh under his breath at her correct assumption, the boy then turned his head, playing devil's advocate just for the hell of it. “And let’s just say I didn’t care about that. What would you do then?”

Asagao then paused, thinking about his question before answering back with confidence. “Then I would let you drag me into the port mafia. But the only orders that I'd ever answer and respect would be yours.”

Dazai was certainly taken back by that. Was she serious? He knew her dedication to him was rather irrational but would she seriously put herself back in the darkness for his sake? Would she really disobey her big brother's last request that easily?

Trying out to laugh off her foolish joke, the boy pushed his hand under his chin before teasing sensually. “I’m flattered, love. So you would be my loyal subordinate then?”

But there was no hesitation or humor in her response. Only straight laced honesty. “Yeah, cause I need you by my side in order to see my big brother. Subordinate, girlfriend, they are just titles. An excuse, a way to keep each other around. In the end it doesn't matter what I’m called as long as I have you in my life.”

And try as he may, Dazai couldn’t help the bitter, unpleasant taste that built up in his throat. No, she wasn’t serious. There was no way. Her admiration, her desperation to find her brother, would she really have gone that far just for Oda’s sake?

He hated it, he hated the very little self respect she displayed, knowing that Odasaku would’ve also been horrified by what she was saying. She didn’t need Dazai in her life. Hell, her life would’ve been so much better without even knowing him.

And he knew that their titles of boyfriend and girlfriend were a sham but he never thought it would go this deep, that she would so desperately grab onto whatever excuse she could find in order to connect the two of them together.

Because of that, Dazai felt his mind run wild with possibilities.

In another reality, if that actually happened, if he had dragged Asagao back then did that also mean that Oda’s sister would’ve killed for him? Would she have snapped back to her old ways just in order to please him, to give him a reason to keep her around?

Didn’t she know how dangerous that was?

How could she possibly give a demon like him that much power to abuse?

Stretching her arms up in the air, Asagao then gave a goofy smile before beaming towards the boy all at once. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter what we call ourselves. In any universe or reality it would still be the same. You’re not getting rid of me anytime soon, Osu!”

She said that so proudly, so confidently that Dazai couldn’t help but allow his eyes to fall back on his drink. How could she be so passionate about him? He was a mess in every possible way. No one wanted to hang around him, and for good reason.

Their lives were so similar, both filled with horrors and brutal truths, and yet Asagao always wore a smile while he drowned in the pointlessness of it all. How could she do it? How could she feel so free when he was still chained by his own mind even today.

Because of that, Dazai felt his own tipsy lips move without permission, whispering into his glass with a sadness he rarely let free. “After seeing all that evil, how can you not want to die like me?”

And then he waited for her response, his shoulders tense and anxious from the sudden spilled murmur before Asagao lifted her head up in silent thought. “Mmm I don’t know. By all aspects that should be the case, right? But I’ve never felt that way, not once..”

Then her lips formed a lighthearted smile in return. “I guess it’s because I’m waiting for life to pleasantly surprise me. Just like you do, Samu.”

At that, Dazai lifted his head up in confusion. “How have I surprised you?”

Pushing her hands across the bar in explanation, Asa then replied lightly. “Well, you showed me this place to make me feel better, right? Even though I’m sure it brought back unpleasant memories, you still took me here for my sake..”

And Asagao knew that Dazai could act all he wanted but he had shown his true colors tonight. Sure, he may have used an underhanded tactic to bring her here but he had knowingly done the one thing she needed more than anything else.

Dazai though, didn’t feel the same way, knowing this date wasn’t as pure as she was making it out to be. The only reason he brought her here was to shift her devotion and admiration to something else, something more permanent than a dead man walking.

Pushing his hand up to his lips, the boy frowned under the skin. “Did it ever cross your mind that my reasons were selfish?”

And for a moment he thought she’d be disappointed, that she’d yell at him or cry once she realized the fabrication he had set up to make himself feel better.

Although that's when he watched the girl turn to him, her hand to her heart in absolute passion. “So what? Selfish and selfless, those are just small details. The results are the same. Doesn’t change the fact that you gave me such a precious gift..”

Lifting her hand to rest against her head, Asagao then gave the stunned boy a toothy smile of glee before adding wistfully. “But then again, nothing could ever be as precious as you, Dazai Osamu.”

And with those words, Dazai’s eyes widened in order to find himself slipping back into the very same malfunction that had plagued him just a couple hours ago.

Precious?

Him? There was no way. He was just a pathetically depressed kid. He wasn’t anyone, especially anyone precious. She was the precious one, she was Odasaku’s beloved sister and he was..well..he was nothing of value..

So much so, the boy tried to wipe the compliment away, not knowing how to take it. “You’re drunk, love.”

He then watched as Asagao’s lips turned into an adorable little pout in order to whine back to him through her rosy pink cheeks. “Whaaa, am not! I was being serious! I really do think you’re precious to me, even if you don’t feel the same. And anyways, It takes a lot more than..one..two..three..a bit of booze to knock me down!”

Dazai then watched as the red haired girl looked down at her fingers before failing to count the number of drinks she had ingested only for the boy to snicker under his breath.

Oh yeah, she was definitely drunk.

So much so, the boy lifted his hand up before patting the top of her head like a little puppy in order to break her concentration. “Careful, sweetheart. You’re gonna burst a blood vessel if you think that hard.”

Seemingly jumping back to life, Asa then lifted her finger in the air. “The point is..!”

Her eyes then began to daze in order to slowly drop her head with confusion. “What was the point again..”

Yet before Dazai could answer, Asagao was back at it, her expression changing back to one of passion in order to lean closer on her stool. “Oh yeah! The point is, why would I wanna die when there are still so many opportunities for the world to be beautiful? I don’t wanna miss one by giving up so soon..”

Leaning even closer, the girl then gasped as she slid out of the stool completely only for Dazai’s strong bandaged arms to catch her before she hit the ground.

Asagao didn’t seem to care though, her eyes showing through her glasses in order to lift her finger up and boop his nose with a slight giggle. “And neither should you, love”

Then the girl seemed to gasp in excitement before completely slipping out of his arms in order to turn to the small radio next to the counter. “Ah! I love this song! Turn it up Mr. Bartender!”

Skipping over to the open area, Asagao then began to bounce and dance to the song in child-ish glee only for Dazai’s eyes to travel down to the hands that once held her before balling his fists with a bitter chuckle.

What was she saying? He shouldn’t give up on life? Foolish girl, he gave up a long time ago. It was too late for those kinds of words. She should’ve known that.

How dare she put such pointless and toxic thoughts inside his head like that.

Lifting his head to look up at the carefree girl, the mafioso then watched in stunned silence as she twirled and giggled across the bar without a care in the world.

She looked so free like this, so unchained and open. He wondered how it felt, to radiate such genuine happiness and to be unequivocally herself. Because Dazai had never felt happy, not in that kind of way.

He used happiness as a tool, as a mask to further his manipulation. He knew the concept, sure, but actually conceptualizing such a thing? He had realized from a young age that it was impossible for someone as broken like him.

But Oda’s sister, she seemed to radiate the emotion with her entire soul, she knew the wonder and mystery of it. And Dazai couldn’t help but be jealous of such a fact, knowing he would never experience such a human emotion to the level that she was.

That’s when his eyes couldn’t help but flash with painstaking realization.

Oh, he had it wrong this entire time, didn’t he? Dazai had connected the similarities between their backstories, their intelligence, their manipulation and their necessity for his bandages and her glasses.

But looking at her now, the boy knew they weren’t anything alike.

In many ways Asagao was like a sun, her light always exuding positivity and hope with every response. She was unreachable, a fragile yet strong flower that was just barely out of reach in every possible way.

And Dazai, well he was a black hole, unable to find anything of value but the darkness that always consumed every part of his twisted fucked up soul. And while she was unreachable, he was a ghost, flickering in and out of this life, unable to touch anything or anyone.

They shared so many similarities and yet Asagao still saw the good, she saw the very best the world could offer while Dazai couldn’t even find one beneficial thing around him.

He almost wished that they didn’t weren’t so alike, simply because then the boy could excuse their lives as plain nativity on her part.

That’s what he thought all that positive bullshit came from in the first place, thinking that she was just a spoiled and sheltered girl that Odasaku had protected.

But she wasn’t, she had seen just as much evil and pain as Dazai had. And yet, her responses were so vastly different. She had managed to keep her humanity while the boy had descended into a full blown monster.

And Dazai would be lying to say he wasn’t both incredibly jealous and yet so genuinely intrigued by her in every way.

No, that wasn’t the right word.

He was enamored, he admired her resolve more than anything else. What a beautiful, enthralling sight. It was intoxicating, and enchanting in every way, seeing how she defied the corruption of the universe.

Although that’s when the bartender interrupted his thoughts, his eyes also gazed towards Asagao in question. “Dazai, who is that woman?”

Shifting his body to rest his back against the bar, Dazai then smiled to himself before answering honestly. “She’s Odasaku’s sister.”

The bartender then felt himself freeze before looking at the girl in a whole new light. “I can see it.”

Lowering his eyes in admiration, Dazai then felt his lips curve a bit wider. Ah, she’d be so happy to hear that. “Me too.”

And he really did, he saw Odasaku in her so clearly, especially now. It was in her carefree attitude, it was in the sense of unbothered calm she always had when she was around him. If only Asa realized just how much she brought her big brother to life by just merely existing.

Lifting his head to the sky, the boy then closed his eyes in order to speak to his old friend. Oh Odasaku, why did you give me to your sister like this? Don’t you see I’m no good for her? Did you really trust me not to corrupt her?

Yet that’s when he heard another voice enter his mind only to watch a drunken man try to make his way up to Asa only for Dazai to darken his eyes in order to quickly jump off his stool and lift an arm out to the girl in question.

Asa then felt his bandaged arms wrapped around her waist a second later, pulling her into his chest only for the girl to look up in her drunken daze. “S-Samu?”

She was then met with his endless brown gaze, staring at her in order to slip his hand into hers with a light chuckle. “Can’t leave my girl hanging, now can I?”

Feeling his head tilt towards the unwelcome presence, Dazai then pushed her body closer to him before glaring wordless in silent threat for the depravity that lay behind the drunken man's eyes.

The stranger then stumbled away in order for the mafioso to hum in acceptance before his hands traveled to his “girlfriend’s” hips as she hummed to the music. “Didn’t think the great executive liked to dance.”

Smiling under his breath, Dazai lowered his head, meeting her eyes. “What can I say, you’ve inspired me.”

Yet that's when Asagao’s lips turned into a frown before turning away from his gaze with a mutter. “What am I gonna do, Osu? I can’t go home..Ango is gonna say annoying things again..”

At the mention of Ango, Dazai felt his throat tick with unpleasant memories. Ah, that’s right. Ango was still staking out her place, hoping she’d come back. Well, it wasn’t like she could show up drunk either, then he’d really have a conniption.

But it also wasn’t as if he could let the clumsy glasses-wearing girl out free in Yokohama. She couldn’t even find where she was going sober, which meant she definitely wasn’t going to be okay like this.

Which only left one option left.

Asagao then felt his lips brush against her ear before she heard Dazai’s next words, the meaning causing her entire body to shiver and her eyes to widen all at once.

“If you really have nowhere to go then how about you come to my place, sweetheart?”

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