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sukirichi · 3 years

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sweet lies [03.final]

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

cw. toxic! megumi, SEXY TOXIC MEGUMI 🥵, toxic college settings, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasm, orgasm denial, explicit smut, car sex, biting, scratching, sukuna is a sex god, MEGUMI WITH A LIP RING, slight angst

note. FINALLY FINISHED THIS SERIES AAAAHHH I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS I HAD A LOT OF FUN WITH THIS SERIES TYSM FOR EVERYTHING! lotsa lub lub for each and everyone of you! anyways let me just say...sweet lies sukuna can politely rail me.

series masterlist | 01 | 02 | 03

It’s…a different story when you have to move back and forth between your newly made acquaintance slash fuck buddy, Sukuna, to your actual fuck buddy and crush, Megumi.

Sukuna’s polite enough to not meddle into your business as he’s promised, which you’re extremely thankful for, but you should’ve known the bubble of happiness would pop the moment you stepped out of your apartment. You’ve left your phone unattended and on silent, earbuds always placed inside to ignore Megumi’s calls.

It’s funny, actually, that he’s never replied much to you before other than occasional dick pic and ‘you awake baby?’ but ever since you’ve been…pre-occupied, suddenly you’re on top of his contacts.

You grumble at the vibration of your phone, Megumi’s name flashing on the screen. Back then, you would’ve soared and jumped to pick up the call, voice sultry and toes pointed at the ceiling as you try to keep in your giggles. Now, you’re dreading it, glaring at his annoyingly handsome contact icon that used to make your heart skip a beat. You’re studying in the library and have been doing a terrific job at avoiding him so far, and today won’t be any different.

With a sigh, you completely flip your phone upside down and turn back to your book. You’re on the second line of the paragraph when you feel large, warm hands caress the back of your neck, tilting you upwards to meet his curious – and certainly annoyed – blue eyes.

“Babe,” Megumi drawls out, minty breath fanning your cheeks.

He looks absolutely stunning today, plain and casual yet so handsome in just a black hoodie and sweatpants, his dark hair slicked back to reveal his forehead. For a guy who sure pounded into your skill he had no interest in you that went beyond sexual, he sure did know you well enough, the slight tugging of his lips a sign he could easily read through you. It makes you huff away from him, scooting – trying is the keyword – away from his touch. Megumi’s persistence leads him into you placing you right above his lap and cages you between his arms, chin on your shoulder and his breath floating over your ear.

You can’t help but squirm in embarrassment. Half of the students in the campus library have turned to look at you, and Megumi merely smiles at the attention, audacious enough to kiss the shell of your ear.

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him! In reality, you really do want to fuck him.

“Why have you been ghosting me?”

“I wasn’t ghosting you, Megumi, it’s called being busy. You ever tried doing homework?”

“You’re so mean to me today,” he pouts, but that pout soon brightens into a smile when you scowl at him. Megumi, albeit never really paying attention to you, your facial expressions have registered as second nature to him now. It doesn’t take much before you soften under his hold, still as mushy as ever, and the nasty fucker basks in it proudly. “There’s a party tonight at Okkotsu’s house, said his parents were away in Greece or some rich family shit. Wanna come and get wasted with me?”

“I don’t know, Megs, I have an essay to finish…”

“Come on, it’s just one night. It won’t hurt,” he shrugs and sways you to side to side, causing your heart to sway side to side in giddiness. It’s this – moments like this – that really fools you into believing Megumi likes you. And that sweet lie only turns sweeter from his words that drip like honey, “Plus, I’ve missed you. Can’t think straight when we’ve been apart for too long, baby.”

You pretend to think about it.

That slight falter in a split second brings about a waver in Megumi’s confident you didn’t think would be possible. Not that you can blame him; you never did have to think about it whenever he invites you to fuck around with him. In fact, you say yes a lot faster than he can ask you something, but something’s been changing you lately – or rather someone.

In the end though, you’ll circle up right where you belong.

Relishing in the rarity of having Megumi coddle you with kisses and affection, his perfume still as boyish and vanilla that deluded you into his faux aura of a sweet boy, you melt one more time. Hopefully, it would transition into a one last time before Megumi’s completely wrapped you around his finger.

“Fine. I’m leaving if it’s too noisy though.”

“Awesome,” Megumi chirps, pulling you in for a long, solid kiss. It takes you back by surprise that you end up wide-eyed above him, stiff hands on his shoulders as you feel him smile through the kiss. Then, just as you’re about to kiss him back with the same passion, Megumi separates himself from you and squeezes your ass. “Promise we’ll have fun, babe. I’ll even bring extra condoms.”

You’re not surprised he left afterwards.

But are you hurt? Most definitely so.

Fuck Fushiguro Megumi.

You were going to leave him, block him, ignore him, avoid him, and carve him out of your heart for good. It’s what you deserve – to be freed from such a toxic guy like him. His pretty face shouldn’t be an excuse for you stick around any longer. That party…well, it would be your last one, you’re never going back!

Still, it’s not that easy to let go. Years of following him around with puppy eyes and spreading your legs open for him like it’s the most natural thing to do isn’t just going to disappear in a day.

It’s for closure, you lie to yourself. That’s all it is – you just need closure. So for one last time, you’ll fuck around with Megumi, then you’d leave him. For good this time.

And yet – your mind still races back to him. His throaty, boyish laughter and the stupid way his eyes crinkle into half moons, his large hands slapping his knees when you tell him a really silly joke. Okay, he didn’t really laugh that much because he’s already passed out in the times you crack jokes after sex, but the few times he did, though? It’s magical, beautiful, phenomenal.

He’s so awful yet so irresistibly charming it’s a huge tug of war between your rational mind and foolish heart.

You couldn’t focus anymore in the library. If you wanted to pass your exams, you need to be somewhere that won’t remind you of him, in a place where a stronger aroma would conceal his lingering scent. The best option was to hang around in a local café closer to your apartment than on campus, and you’ve completely ditched your usual get up to just opting for lookinglike a complete shut in – bags under eyes, heart torn over a stupid boy, the usual Iced Vanilla Latte with the condensation sticking to the wooden table and soft lofi music playing in the background – it’s just the perfect atmosphere for you to wallow in self-pity.

And wallow in self-pity you did, your cheeks squished against the pale furniture while you sighed for what seems like the hundredth time that day. At the back of your head, Megumi is still giving you one of those slow, long kisses reserved for only when he’s half-sleepy, your heart doing insane back flips as you reminisced whatever moments you once had.

You’re so lost in your own train of thought you fail to hear the scraping of a chair, followed by a heavy body plopping across you. “Well, this is kind of gloomy…”

At the sound of that awfully familiar, deep voice, you sit up straight in a frenzy. Sukuna smirks at your reaction as he loudly sips from his matcha latte – which you would’ve never thought he likes – and sits back at his chair, legs crossed against one another. Unlike Megumi, he doesn’t seem to pose any other malicious intent, so you bury your head in your arms, wishing for the ground to just open up and eat you already.

“I’m sleep deprived and haven’t eaten anything except Red Bull and coffee,” you try to explain, “I look horrible.”

“Don’t say that. You’re gorgeous all the time.”

From under your arms, you scowl at nowhere in particular, ignoring the heat rushing from the back of your neck. Sukuna didn’t seem to be flirting with you, and one peek at him swirling his straw inside his cup proves your theories.

However, the offhanded compliment falls so naturally from his lips it takes you a back, and not in a good way. Defensively, you cross your arms against your chest. You knock your toes against Sukuna’s knees under the knees to get his attention, the taller man peering at you under his lashes, tongue innocently swirling around his straw.

I fucking hate men! – is what you want to say, but something different comes out. “Why are you even here? Aren’t you asleep in the morning because of work?”

“It’s my day off,” he sets his cup down, placing his chin on both of his palms. Sukuna’s gaze travels from your face down to the abandoned papers before you, a scowl immediately making its way to his face. “Got too bored to cook so I came here for a light snack. As for you…ew, are you doing essays? I hated that shit in college.”

“Yeah, I hate it too,” you numbly agree, “Can barely function right now.”

Sukuna’s eyes lit up the moment you nearly fall on the table again, his palm quick to caress your cheek. If he can feel the intense heat of your skin from the sudden gesture, he makes no comment about it. Instead, Sukuna hauls you from your seat, nodding to your bag and papers before he rushes you out the door.

When Sukuna said he could make you feel better, the last thing you thought of was going to the nearby park. Now, you find yourself sitting comfortably with him, aggressively licking on the vanilla ice cream he’d gotten you from an ice cream man that passed by. It’s a great way to kill the time – or just to enjoy the day despite the rough start – because the sunlight feels warm on your skin, the trees above you shading you from extra shade.

Next to you, Sukuna is surveying his ice cream with the least interest, his brows furrowed as he notes, “Your crush is toxic. I suggest you cut ties with him and get it all over with.”

In part of making you feel better, Sukuna’s subtly given you clues you could tell him whatever’s going on in your mind. It makes you wonder if maybe you’ve been that obvious that even Sukuna could read you, but you’re thankful that he understood, because you really did want to rant about it. Your friends are just a one call away, but they’re not any better. They’ll keep claiming ‘Megumi just needs time’ because they know it’s what you want to hear to make yourself feel better. Though, every once in a while, you needed to talk to someone who could actually slap the harsh reality at your face, and who else would be more suitable than a mature adult like Sukuna?

Looking at him now, the contrast between your roommate and your crush is immense. Where Megumi is all bark and no bite, all needy and never giving, Sukuna’s silent and compliant, an extremely good listener with the patience of a monk.

“It’s not that easy.”

“Yeah it is. Just block his number and avoid him. He’ll get the answer soon enough.”

“You don’t understand,” you groan in defeat. Sukuna faces you with worry written all over his face, seemingly tender in comparison to the tattoos marking his skin. Sometimes, it’s so easy to forget he’s actually a lot more decent than Fushiguro fucking Megumi, but you end up slipping anyway, turning to the sky just as tears prick at your eyes. “I…I love him, okay? I’ve always been in love with him even though I know I’m just someone who warms his bed. I know that much and yet…I can’t seem to let him go.”

Sukuna is silent for a full minute. You thought he’ll offer you some adult wisdom only people like him would now, but Sukuna simply snorts, happily licking at his ice cream as if you didn’t just break down in front of him. “Shit’s tough then.”

“You’re great at comforting, you know that?”

“Oh, I wasn’t comforting you,” he smiles and pats your knee, “Come on, let’s go home. I know just how to take your mind off things.”

With the way he’s caressing your thigh and his voice turned an octave lower, you chastise yourself for feeling aroused when you wanted to cry just seconds ago. But his fingers are inching closer and closer to your inner thigh, and he’s warm and strong – so fucking nice too that perhaps fucking him wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

But like always, Sukuna never fails to surprise you.

You expected he’d take you right to his room the moment you’ve crossed the door, but Sukuna dashes for the TV before carrying a huge blanket and heaps of pillow. You watch there, stunned. He makes quick work of fluffing the pillows before grabbing your wrist and pulling you above him the same way Megumi did a while ago.

The only difference? Your heart doesn’t skip a beat. You’re not intoxicated by his scent. You’re not trying to squirm away from him nor do you feel like a silly little schoolgirl who’s fallen in love at first sight.

Where Megumi is deceivingly charming, Sukuna is more like a strong pillar to lean on, which you do exactly. Your head rests on his shoulder, both of your legs tangled under the blankets he’s covered you with. He’s blinking as Tangled plays on the TV, the faint sensation of his fingers playing with yours comforting and way too comfortable. It should feel weird to hang out with a guy like this without him wanting to shove his dick deep inside you minutes later (your movie marathons with Megumi never really finish as previously planned) but with Sukuna?

It feels natural. It feels great. It feels like home.

You’re gaping at him long before you realize it, one of your hands absentmindedly playing with the strings of his hoodie. Sukuna hums along to I Have A Dream with a small smile on his face, one that forms into a playful glare as he catches you staring at him. “Don’t look at me like that. Disney is a classic.”

You fight back a smile. “Wasn’t complaining,” burying yourself deeper into his warm embrace, you’re lulled into an early slumber with Sukuna’s humming combined with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

His plan worked efficiently – for a moment, you forget your heart was aching to begin with.

After screaming internally for a good hour and a half, you arrive at the party anyway. The stench of weed, alcohol, and sex hanging thickly in the air is more than familiar to you by now. You ignore the catcalls you receive as you make your way to Megumi and fuck, he just had to look even sexier tonight.

He’s ditched his e-boy getup with a plain white shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, a Converse, and that black leather jacket he always refused to wear. Megumi really woke up and chose violence today, the minimalistic silver chain around his neck only adding to his appeal. You should’ve run away then – he literally screams trouble – but you’ve never been one to shy from that. Truth be told, you’re only pulled in harder, swaying your hips side to side as you sashay to where he’s laughing along with his friends.

Clearing your throat to get his attention, Megumi finally lays his eyes on you.

You’re glad you took the extra time to dress in your best outfit today – a lace orange mini dress that accentuates your cleavage just enough for a tease, paired with black combat boots and a white purse slung from your shoulder. Pride pumps through your veins when Megumi steps away from his friends, his hands encircling around your waist almost possessively. He smirks through your hair, those addicting lips trailing lower and lower down to your neck until, “You smell like another man.”

Now that you weren’t expecting. He doesn’t seem to be mad, perhaps a little jealous judging by how he’s grinding his crotch to your abdomen and tugs you closer, but this is Megumi in the question. He never gets jealous, so you flatten your palms onto his chest, eyes daring and red lips upturned into a smirk as you ask, “Why do you care?”

Megumi raises a brow – which really shouldn’t have been such a sexy thing – at your spunk. Normally, you’re too sweet and submissive to him, never would’ve even dared to dress something as revealing like this, but maybe you’re tired of being sweet.

Maybe this time, you wanted to match Megumi’s spice, fight fire with fire.

Megumi chuckles above your lips and swipes a thumb over your lower lip, humming when the coating doesn’t stain his fingers. He’s mentioned before he hates washing the lipstick off his dick, and the fact you remember that has him groaning at your ear. Unsurprisingly, Megumi’s already hard. He nibbles at the shell of your ear, possessive hands brushing over your collarbone as a silent promise of what he’ll be doing to you tonight.

“Like I said, this pussy is mine.”

You should say no. It’s evident in the darkness of his eyes he’s daring you to say no, but it’s too much. The cramped space that diminishes space until it becomes a myth, his hands rubbing circles at your hip, the glint of his new lip ring under the disco lights and anything, everything about Fushiguro Megumi just makes you feel so weak you can’t say no.

Satisfied with your silence, Megumi sweeps you upstairs. There’s already a round of Truth or Dare going on with a bunch of drunk and half-high college students, the lights red and the aroma of weed thick in the air.

It bothers you so you stick close to Megumi, nose stuck at the collar of his leather jacket. He’s not satisfied with just you sitting next to him; Megumi is territorial. He makes sure you’re comfy and using his lap like a throne, clasping both your hands in your lap while he boredly stares at his friends. Okkotsu Yuta, the host who used to be super shy in his freshman year but became one of the most sought after guys in his junior year, sits across from you in the circle. He’s already giggling in his drunken state while Nobara Kugisaki makes the mistake of choosing dare, flinging her bra straight at a very enthusiastic Yuuji.

They spin the bottle and it lands straight at you. Megumi hums in anticipation at the crook of your neck, his little sounds mixed with his heated touches sending fire straight down your core. It’s inebriating to have him this close, but you need to keep a straight head if you want to survive.

Fighting the arousal pooling at your stomach, you offer a flat smile. “Truth.” As expected, the crowd isn’t pleased. They holler, “Booooo,” with their hands cupped around their mouths, the others snickering at you, though you’re quite satisfied with the safety of your choice. You could be crazy with Megumi, but being crazy around others isn’t something you’re comfortable with.

Thankfully, Yuta shushes the crowd dramatically with a threat he’ll kick them out with his infamous Katana that’s been passed down by an ancestor. Once everyone’s calmed down, Yuta smirks at you, eyes wiggling as he asks, “Who’s the best dick you ever had?”

You don’t think twice about it. Someone else’s face pops up for a split second, but it’s so natural, so obvious that you would say – “Megumi.”

“Speak louder, baby, they won’t hear.”

“It’s you,” you suddenly grow shy at the attention, whatnot with Megumi shamelessly trailing hot kisses down your neck now for everyone to see. He’s shameless as he rocks you back and forth on his thigh, all the while keeping eye contact with the other guys whose eyes are zeroed in on the swell of your breasts that are an inch away from popping out from your dress. It’s the best time to submit, the perfect time to give him what he wants, and his expert hands prompt his name out of you with a single suck at your neck.

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

“Damn, Megumi, you’ve trained your bitch well.”

“’Course I did. My dick does all the disciplining,” Megumi cups your jaw to tilt your face at him, cooing at you as you flush embarrassed from everyone’s snickering. “Aw, don’t pout baby, it’s all just harmless jokes. You know I treat you like a goddess when we’re alone.”

“Yo, man, get a fucking room!”

Megumi ignores Yuuji’s comments and makes an offhanded comment the latter is just jealous because he hasn’t had his dick wet in days, ensuing a close dog fight between the guys. Maki has to step in and kick the strawberry haired boy back to his seat, scolding her cousin to back down. Meanwhile, you cling to Megumi like a scaredy-cat, head empty with nothing but the way he’s never hold you this close and proudly before.

Just one last time.

“Megs, your turn.”

“Dare.”

Yuuji slaps his palm over Yuta who usually gives the dares. The older guy rolls his eyes but lets it slide, knowing that Yuuji could also let loose with his dares. Megumi isn’t afraid though, he stays docile around you, leaving little nibbles at your ear and even squeezing your boobs at one point. You know he’ll never back down from Yuuji’s dares, even as his eyes darken with mischief. Now, Yuuji is a nice guy, but something doesn’t quite feel right with the way he’s staring Megumi down.

“I dare you to kiss the hottest girl in the room.”

Megumi freezes.

Time must’ve stopped because everyone is chanting, “KISS, KISS, KISS!” but he makes no move. You stay there, staring up at him wide eyed with your arms looped around his neck. Your heart is beating a mile a minute in your chest the moment Megumi’s eyes gaze down to your lips, smirking as he leans closer, leans down lower, and you close your eyes, waiting for the salacious kiss that would sear at the back of your mind. But it never comes and a gust of wind flies by through you, and before you know it, Megumi’s leaned over your shoulder, his hand cupping the cheek of this girl named Alicia who you’ve heard about from your friends before that she’s Megumi’s current pick.

Alicia was never supposed to kiss him back. Your friends told you, they promised you she wasn’t the type of person to fall for the likes of Megumi, and yet she’s smiling through the kiss. You’re still in Megumi’s lap but your vision is of the audience, their jaws dropped and Yuuji slapping Yuta’s thighs. “Oh, shit! That’s gotta hurt!”

You don’t think twice.

You push yourself off Megumi and run out the room, the sounds of their chaotic laughter mocking you to no end. You know – you fucking know – you’d never quite belong in Megumi’s circle. Everyone knows you’re just another one of his bed warmers, and they also know how much you’re hopelessly in love with him, begging, hoping that one day he might return your affections.

It makes perfect sense with each step you take further from the room. This has to be staged, intentional, because there’s no way Yuuji would’ve said that if he didn’t already have an idea maybe Alicia reciprocated Megumi’s feelings.

But what about your feelings?

Does no one really care? Were you really reduced to just another body count?

Your chest squeezed uncomfortably as you pushed past the crowd, ignoring everyone’s protests from how rough you were. You don’t stop until you’ve locked yourself inside a restroom, tears freely falling down your face. With trembling hands, you fall back to the floor, dialing the only person you could trust right now.

He picks up not three rings later, voice still gruff and laced with sleep. “Hello?”

“S-Sukuna,” you whimper, pathetically wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. “I’m – can you please pick me up?”

From the other line, you can hear Sukuna shuffling for something in the background. Keys dangle and he locks the door, the sounds of his rushed footsteps so relieving to your senses. “Where are you? What’s wrong? Did someone force themselves on you?”

“No, I just…I want to go home.”

“Text me the address. I’ll be there soon.”

You text him the address and end the call. From the outside, the bass is thumping so hard it makes your head pound. You’re already feeling dizzy from crying so much, hands clutched around your chest because it hurts so much.

Stupid Megumi, fucking stupid Megumi – but aren’t you the stupider one? You’re the one who chose to keep being with him despite the warning signs. You’ve heard what everyone said about him, his reputation as a fuckboy isn’t exactly a secret, but you hoped, you sincerely hoped you could at least be good enough. But you’re not not good enough – Megumi just simply doesn’t deserve you. You deserve better and he needs to go to hell, so then why does it hurt so much the more you picture how he’s humiliated you like that?

Your dress is beyond soaked from how much you’ve cried. At this point, you just feel achingly numb. The pounding in your head is matched by the soft knocks rapping against the door, and thinking it’s Megumi or one of his lackeys, you wrap your arms around your knees.

“GO AWAY!”

“Sweetheart, it’s me. Open up, let’s get you home,” It’s Sukuna. Scrambling for the door, you push it open and jump into his arms without a second thought. Sukuna effortlestly catches you, and the dam you thought had dried up in you breaks again. He stiffens as you cry on his shoulder, fists balled around his shirt in a vice-like grip. “Who the fuck made you cry? Is it him again?” he growls, “I seriously want to knock the living daylights out of him.”

“Don’t start a ruckus, Sukuna.”

“I won’t, I promise,” he visibly softens at your state. Sukuna rubs your back soothingly and lets you cry like that, shielding your vulnerable state with his arm. He moves you to hide your face in his chest and kisses the crown of your head, so gentle and unbelievably tender. “I don’t pick on someone weaker than me. That’s bullying.”

You don’t utter another word as he leads you out of the house. He mutters under his breath on how kids are so wild these days and he really can’t imagine he was once like that. Sukuna’s car is parked on the curb, and you rush for it, eager to go home until he stops you. He wraps his jacket around your shoulders to offer you some modesty and you offer him a weak smile, allowing him to embrace you from the sides to guide you.

“Hey!” Megumi calls out, “Hey, what are you doing with her? Let her go,” his footsteps echo behind you just as you clench your eyes shit, “I said let her go!”

“Don’t punch the kid, don’t punch the kid, don’t punch the kid,” Sukuna mutters to himself like a mantra.

“Yo, steroid guy, you deaf or what? I said let my girl go—” Megumi falls on his ass. He stares up at whoever punched him, eyes wide at Sukuna’s arm raised, but his eyes are on you. “Ow! You fucking bitch, you broke my nose!”

“Shit,” Sukuna laughs beside you as you wince at the soreness of your knuckle. “That was hot.” Somehow, you find the ability to smile. You’ve always wanted to top Megumi, but seeing him below you like this, weak and clutching his broken nose while whining about it like a little bitch, it feels a lot more satisfying.

You want to scream at him, to release all the profanities that have manifested your anger throughout the years. But Megumi crawls back with something unreadable in his eyes, the edges of his lips tinted red with a smack of lipstick, probably from Alicia.

The sight has you scoffing. Maybe you don’t have anything to worry about after all – Megumi hates lipstick stains with a passion. If he ever gets with her, they won’t last long enough.

That fact is enough for you to flip your hair over your shoulder, glaring at Megumi one last time before dragging Sukuna down by the collar. His laughter ceases the moment your lips collide, your hands teasing around his neck to brush at his undercut. Sukuna moans through the kiss, the way he’s explicitly grabbing the flesh of your ass a sign he’s aware what kind of game you’re playing. You make a mental note to apologize for this later, but for now, you’ll shamelessly savor his tongue and the minty aftertaste, grabbing at his large frame that picks you up with no ease.

You leave Megumi gaping at the lawn after that, your finger middle raised right before Sukuna speeds off.

Fuck, that has never felt so good. This feeling…it bursts through you. There’s this certain satisfaction in finally having the power at your fingertips this time around, and you you’re your wicked smile through your hair, too absorbed in your own feelings that you don’t register Sukuna’s worried tone at first.

“So…do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” He doesn’t pry afterwards, just shoots you a curious look. Just moments ago, you were crying and feeling like you’re on the verge of breaking down, but this adrenaline rushing through absolutely cannot fuck around anymore. The image of Megumi realizing he’s lost you is so exhilarating, and you twist your torso to face your roommate, grinning at his handsome features. He looks so delicious like this, black button up shirt left open at the top, his veiny, muscular arms driving one hand on the steering wheel and the other gently caressing your thigh. You suck in a deep breath, licking your lips as you purr, “Hey, Sukuna.”

“Yes?”

“Pull over.”

“Wait, why? We’re so close at home.”

“Pull over, I’m done,” you insist with a glare, although the animosity isn’t directed at him. Sukuna keeps his eyes on the road before he spares you a glance, smirking at how you’re already unclasping your bra from your seat.

“Oh, I see how it is. You’re going to use me as a stress reliever.”

At his words, your arms still behind you. You glance up at him with wide, worried eyes that immediately reach out for his hands in assurance. “N-No, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Usually, sex is a lot crazier when the other is angry. Use me as you will – I don’t really care,” he licks his lips and suddenly slams on the brakes under an empty parking lot, already flipping something in the engine. You’re taken aback as Sukuna discards his shirt in a second, his large arms carrying your frame to the backseat with him. Sukuna spreads your legs as he helps you get rid of your dress but it’s too tight that you just give up, leaving the material bunched under your boobs instead. Sukuna’s eyes darken at the lack of material under your dress, his fierce gaze shooting up to yours as he massages your inner thighs, his breath labored.

“What position do you want?”

“Fu-fuck, I don’t know, just fuck me,” you whine, spreading your legs farther to make space for him. He’s a tall guy with long limbs that he shrinks even with his fancy car, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. Sukuna seems a lot more focused in fucking you in that moment because he’s unhooking his belt, diving down for one more kiss that is a lot heated and rushed than the previous one for show.

“I want to get rid of his face from my mind, I fucking hate him so much,” you can’t help but bite down on Sukuna’s lip, hard enough that it draws blood. Sukuna groans into your mouth, the sound so utterly deep and sexy you drip down on his seats even more.

“You’ll still go back to him after this?”

“No…it would be stupid if I did,” you roll your eyes.

“Good girl,” Sukuna praises as his lips leave a wet trail from your jaw down to the valley of your breasts. His smile is quickly replaced with a sinister grin, one of his hands cupping your breasts at the same time his teeth dart out to playfully nip at your breasts. He really shouldn’t look so enticing under you like this, and you’re so caught by his devilishness you fail to realize he’s already rummaging through your purse. “But I think lover boy still doesn’t get the message. We’re gonna have to punch it through his dumb skull.”

He hands you your phone, Megumi’s contact right before you.

“Sukuna, what’re you doing?”

“Call him,” Sukuna moves up to fish a condom out of his wallet and slides it to his already throbbing cock, chuckling at the way your eyes widen at his girth as if you hadn’t taken him before. “Call him and let him hear how I fuck you better, sweetheart. Boys like him won’t get the message unless you tell them directly.”

His hands clutch the backseat until his knuckles turn white, aligning himself with your entrance. You’re wet enough that he slides in easily and you moan loudly at the intrusion, pretty little gasps a sign of your pleasure. Helplessly, you grip at his bicep while your legs shake from how tense you are, the tantalizing movement of his hips pulling breathless moans from you. “And what better way than to take what’s his, right? What did he call this? His pretty pussy?” Sukuna scoffs, “Fuck that, stupid little boys can’t even fuck you right, don’t you think, sweetheart?”

“Ngh, Sukuna, that f-feels good, right there!”

“Right here?” he teases with a stroke of his cock that brushes against your tight walls. Sukuna’s face contort into pleasure when your tight pussy sucks him in, falling forward just to rasp in your ear. “Call him. Then, I’ll fuck you however you want me to.”

You don’t know how you’re able to swipe on Megumi, but he picks up in the speed of light like never before. Sukuna mouths loudspeaker and you follow his commands, Megumi’s voice booming through the sex-filled air of the car. “Where the fuck did you go? The party wasn’t over yet and you’re hanging out with some beefy, tattoed guy? It’s your roommate, isn’t it?” Megumi curses at someone before continuing, the aggravation evident in his tone. “He’s such a fucking creep, I swear if he lays his hands on you again I’ll—”

“You’ll do what, kid?” Sukuna challenges, “Oh and mind you, she’s the one who asked me to fuck her. As her concerned roommate and the more mature adult, I believe it’s my duty to listen to her complaints and make her feel better, especially when she keeps whining she’s not being fucked good.”

“Sukuna!” You whine and slap his arm, but you’re smiling, the pleasure and satisfaction of slapping Megumi this harshly making you feel greater than ever.

“Are you sleeping with her?” Megumi sounds like he’s losing his shit, and you sincerely hope he does. “Gosh, Y/N, how low can you be? I thought you were my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend? Since when?” you attempt to scream, but Sukuna’s gripped your thighs and pulls your lower body closer to his cock in time to meet his thrusts. Your body slides off the seat and you’re left screaming Sukuna’s name, the latter wearing a shit-eating grin at the way you’re creaming around him. Somehow, your attention reverts back to Megumi’s whining. “You’re a fucking dick, Megumi, I honestly hope you choke on your small dick!” you shout and end the call, slapping your hand on your face as you throw your phone away. “I hated saying that.”

“Because you still like him or…?”

“No, because he was actually a good fuck and his dick is huge,” you say through pants. Sukuna must’ve hated how you’re talking about Megumi’s dick when he’s literally rearranging your insides, and Sukuna grabs your leg, manhandling you into the position he likes. You’re immediately on your knees with your back flat to his chest, your arms locked between your bodies as Sukuna takes you from behind. Your head falls back to his shoulders where Sukuna leaves messy open-mouthed kisses to your sweaty skin. “I fucking hate him. He’s such an asshole.”

“Hmm, well don’t spend too much energy thinking about him anymore,” Sukuna snarls at your skin, releasing your hands just to rub at your swollen clit. “Just let loose and let me take care of you. I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t even remember meeting him.”

The honest side of you wants to moan, the familiar tightening of your abdomen appearing already. He’s hitting all your sensitive spots that you can barely think, only feel, but you also feel so powerful and enraged that you cup Sukuna’s cheek, narrowing your eyes at him. You hit his thrusts by pushing back against his cock that causes him to slide in deeper, the large man groaning deep within his chest.

“You sure about that?”

“Oh, hundred percent confident, baby.”

“Let’s see what you got then,” you teased him. Pretending you’re not seconds away from coming is an even bigger challenge than leaving Megumi, but for the sake of riling up Sukuna, you would do it.

“You’re challenging me?”

“If I don’t cum at least twice, then that’s going to be a damn shame.”

“Twice? That’s not even the minimum,” he shakes his head tauntingly at you, increasing his pace until the sounds of his balls smacking your ass and both your groans are filling the dead silent night. It’s so lewd and dirty that your tongue lols out from the pleasure, eyes shut tight because you’re close, so fucking close! “You’re going to lose your fucking mind,” Sukuna said as a final warning.

You didn’t think too much of it until he pulls out of you seconds before you came. The crestfallen look written all over your face makes him laugh, but Sukuna only turns your body and goes down on his knees, hitching your legs over his shoulders. Your chest falls up and down as he dives down to your sopping, abused cunt, hands threading through his hair before he rudely flicks it away. “No. Hands to yourself. You’re not allowed to touch me,” he hissed, but his roughness is softened only by a little bit when you whimper so sweetly for him. “Don’t pout, sweetheart, you’ll get your chance when we get home. For now, since you’d so rudely woke me up and left me without inviting me for dinner, I’m starving.”

Sukuna dips between your thighs, tongue poking out to take the first taste of your juices. Your reaction is instantaneous and gratifying; head thrown back, nails dug into the seats, legs quivering and falling open wider to welcome the warm, wet muscle that licks flat from your entrance up to your clit.

“Fuuckk, Sukuna, slow down, ngh—”

“He ever ate you out this way?”

“No, I don’t know, I don’t know.”

“Can you take it, sweetheart? Should I stop?” You know he’s teasing you, the sniggers muffled from your pussy lips are still heard but you can’t fight back, not when your legs turn to jelly at his ministrations.

“Keep going, fuck, please, I will slap you if you don’t make me cum tonight,” you threaten, and Sukuna smartly responds by sucking your clit into his mouth. He rolls it between his teeth, careful enough not to hurt you while plunging two fingers deep inside you, curling it into a come-hither motion that stretches you pleasurably. “Too, oh, shit!”

“You can’t even talk properly,” he chuckles, and the vibrations that come afterwards shatter your entire world. “And this is just my tongue. Feels too good?”

“Yes, yes, too good!” you cry out, “Sukuna, em coming!”

Your orgasm has no build-up whatsoever. You lay there panting with a silent scream as your nails scratch against his seats, toes curled as it comes down into you in one, hard slap. Sukuna hums as he licks up the arousal trailing down your pussy to not make even more of a mess. “Already? I haven’t even started yet,” he sighs sarcastically, “Don’t think I’m done with you. I did say you’d lose your mind, right?”

Sukuna has now joined you on the seats, flipping you to the side where he hooks one leg under his arm, your other leg extended to your side that remains flushed at the seats, his thighs squishing yours. It’s utterly challenging to move in this position and you’re completely at his mercy, the sight of his tall, dominating figure above you forcing you back into a submissive space. He doesn’t give you much time to recover before his cock is pushing past your pussy once more, bottoming out in one, swift thrust.

“’Kuna, too sensitive, mhhm—”

“You’ll take it,” he breathes out while peppering kisses at your ankle, “Come on, you’re a good girl, yeah? Give me one more.”

“Su-kuna, it’s too much!”

“Just one more.” Sukuna elicits moans from you the harder he thrusts, leaning forward until you’re crying out from the stretch of all the muscles in your body. He’s being nice today by letting you cum more than twice in the exchange of holding back his, because he’s absolutely throbbing inside you. He picks up a rougher pace from where he left off, saying your name through gritted teeth as you tighten around him. You’re squealing and whimpering from behind your fists, overly sensitive still from your previous orgasm.

His hips roll in such a mind-numbing manner before Sukuna rams into you utterly deep, your bodies flushed so close you can feel the heat pulsing from his skin. Sukuna tenses above you before he brings you to your orgasm, with him following not long afterwards.

Sukuna pulls out with a groan and ties his condom in a knot, discarding it above his clothes. Upon hearing your soft sighs, he immediately rushes your side and pats your cheek to wake you up. “Hey, look at me,” he commands, though his voice is gentle and soft. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out through fluttering lashes, “Yeah, I’m just tired,” extending your arms to him, you wrap your legs around his waist to bring him close. “Come here. Want cuddles.”

Sukuna gives in to your request for a few minutes and stays wrapped up with you. It’s perfect to be in this state, to be held so close and not just touched, the intimacy of it all bringing about unfamiliar warmth that only ever makes itself present when he’s here. “As much as I want to stay like this, we’re sweaty and sticky,” Sukuna murmurs through your hair, his hands roaming all over your skin. There’s no other sexual meaning behind it even as his rough palms graze past your mound. His touches are more like him exploring your body out of curiosity, out of the desire to just have you this close. You’re unsure what to feel about it and your mind is uncannily clear after an orgasm, but Sukuna’s already sitting up with you above him before you could ponder about it any longer. “Let me take you home first, then we’ll cuddle. What do you think?”

“Oh fuck,” you cut him off upon seeing the flashing of your screen. “It’s Megumi. Fifteen missed calls.”

“Lover boy is crazy,” Sukuna snickered behind you.

“Good thing I’m crazier,” you shut your phone off and throw it to the passenger’s seat, beaming up at Sukuna and giving him the puppy eyes from behind your shoulder. “Can we get milkshakes on the way?”

“I think you got enough milk.”

“Sukuna!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he raises his hands in surrender. You pout until you feel something hard and wet poking your bottoms, and Sukuna smirks, gesturing to his erection that you haven’t noticed. “You do know that I’m still hard, right? I’ll fuck you again when we get home.”

“You could’ve just let me suck you off.”

“Nah,” he refuses, “I want to feel you come around me,” Sukuna cockily winks at you, and your mouth falls open, gasping in disbelief at how vulgar he could be. He steals a quick kiss then as he tugs his pants up, the sight of him rolling his sleeves back up to his elbows thoroughly…compelling that you’re left salivating at the ripples of his muscles. “I’ll just wait ‘til we get home. Right now, I need to treat someone like a princess and get her some food.”

“You should stop saying that,” you blurt out defensively, “Sweet lies won’t get you anywhere.”

“I wasn’t lying about anything. I meant every word I said.”

The tension thickens in an instant. Sukuna looks at you warily – or perhaps worriedly? – before he situates himself back in the driver’s seat, starting the car right after you’ve fixed your appearance. Considering it’s already late, he’s struggling to find any restaurant or diners open to appease your cravings, though he doesn’t complain about it.

You fiddle with your hands on your lap, unable to find a proper explanation to his behavior. “Sukuna…” you start off nervously, refusing to look him in the eye. “Do you uhm…do you like me?”

“What kind of question is that, sweetheart?”

“I meant…maybe you just like me for my body, you know?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, sweetheart,” he tilts his head towards you, “I’m too old for drama and playing with people’s feelings. Like I said, the cards are all in your hands now. If you want us to just have casual sex, I don’t mind, but if you also want to be, uhm…” Sukuna awkwardly rubs at the back of his head with a clear of his throat, the tables turned because now he’s the one who can’t meet your gaze. “…something more, then I won’t refuse that either. I’m up to whatever you want to do.”

“And if I said that…maybe I’m considering getting to know you better?”

“Then maybe I would happily say yes.”

You smile at how easily he lightens up the mood, feeling a smile already playing on your lips as you giggle. “Just a maybe?”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” he groans, averting his eyes from the road (it’s empty anyway) to get a quick peck. You whack his arm and his laugh only grows louder; he knows you’re not really angry, because he kisses really good and you like it a lot more than you’ll admit.

“I’ll be a hundred times of a better boyfriend than what you’d expect.”

“You’re really confident, huh?”

“Oh, I’m confident I can treat you well,” he nods proudly, head tipping back to the backseat. “I did just let you ruin my leather exterior and let you walk away while I have a raging boner. Do you have any idea how much self restraint a man has to have to let that happen?”

“Probably an immaculate one. Megumi would never let me go unless he’s came.”

“Yeah, well, fuck that guy,” Sukuna doesn’t even bother to try and hide his hatred for your former crush, and you’re smiling like a lovesick fool on the seat. “You’re with me now. So, since I want to spoil you, how many milkshakes do you want?”

Back then, you were always too addicted to lies that seemed so sweet that you couldn’t be able to stop. But now that you’ve met Sukuna, perhaps the blissful truth is a lot sweeter, and it’s a much healthier addiction you’ll take any day.

taglist: @thesimpsclub @uwubby-1 @expectoscamander @your-consulting-fangirl @dora-the-grownup @cosmotoic @charlie-xo @kittaliapenn @sukunas-cult-leader @flowersgirl02 @cloudsinthecosmos @90s-belladonna @averysheart-raleighsdick @generousstudentpsychic-bat @kat-su-ki @issamomma @sklycan @ggsmashgg @dora-the-grownup @ninefuckingoneone @ambiguous-something

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cyhyr · 2 years

Text

A Very Merry ANBU-Birthday

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: G

WC: 3124

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Additional Tags: Birthday Fluff, little bit of angst at the beginning, but it's mostly fluff, ninken wearing party hats, Naruto being a sweet little kid, Pining

A/N: This is a collab with @atereal, who gives me the bestest ingredients and very good bones so I can make very fluffy soup :)

For the Iruka Mission on @kakairu-discord-server

Kakashi grumbles as he fills out his mission report at the jōnin station, having been given what basically amounted to a milk run by Sandaime just to keep busy during a terrible lull in ANBU-class missions. On the other side of the table he’s working at, Chōza reaches up over his head and stretches, then tosses his pen into a cup and crosses his arms.

“Got any plans for the weekend, Kakashi-kun?”

Kakashi glares up at him, but the man is smiling good-naturedly, and honestly he can’t be upset that the Akimichi clan head would call him something so diminutive when he is at least ten years his elder. And so, Kakashi sighs quietly and answers, “No.” He waits just a few seconds, trying to get one character to look the way it’s supposed to, and then follows up, “You?”

Chōza’s smile widens. “It’s little Shikamaru’s birthday on Sunday. He’s going to be five!”

Kakashi stops and thinks and… wow, has it been five years already?

Sensei’s son will be turning five, too, in a couple weeks.

Chōza chuckles, and continues, “Shikaku is beside himself, trying to find a gift for his own son. Shikamaru prefers to nap or lounge around instead of playing, so I suppose it’s tricky. And Yoshino-chan is inviting all of the kids in his class, so the whole compound is going to be noisy.”

Kakashi remembers having peeked in on Naruto’s class, and he and Shikamaru sit near each other. He’s purposely casual as he asks, “And what about Naruto-kun?”

Chōza lets out a deep sigh. “Shikaku made a bid for it, but Yoshino-chan shot it down. I wasn’t given the reason, but I think you know why.”

The chances of anyone else showing up after seeing that the jinchūriki is there at the party would be slim indeed. Kakashi doesn’t like it by any means; but people are panicky and stupid and many are lost in their prejudices. And at that same moment, his pen stops moving.

No one invites Naruto. He’s turning five years old in two and a half weeks and has never experienced a birthday party, neither by attending nor by being the one celebrated. No presents, no cake, no party games—

Kakashi didn’t appreciate it at the time, but Sakumo had thrown parties for his birthdays until…

He gets through the rest of his report, and then puts his pen in the same cup Chōza had used. “If one were to get a child that age a present,” he asks, “what… what would be a good idea?”

“Well, it depends on the child.”

Kakashi groans, but listens.

Over the next week and a half, he reflects on his own birthdays, what he can remember of them, and what had been done for them. He remembers having received a set of tiny kunai; but this wouldn’t be appropriate, as he isn’t ever around to teach the kid how to use them. He’d received new clothes a few of the years, but this also isn’t a good idea because he doesn’t know Naruto’s size and children’s clothing sizes seem to be completely arbitrary. Fishing had been an annual birthday trip, getting to spend the weekend closest to his birthday with only his father guiding his cast and teaching him the different breeds of fish that live in the rivers in the Land of Fire.

It was never about the fishing, though; he can see that clearly now, with more than a decade of space between himself and the events. And it just… he doesn’t feel he has the right to take Naruto fishing.

As it is, he ends up at the library, near closing hours, sneaking into the children’s area and speed-reading all of the picture books that depict a birthday party of any kind. One story is about a child getting a puppy for their birthday, and for the briefest moment Kakashi considers it, remembering how excited he had been to summon his first ninken. But giving Naruto a living creature to take care of, when he himself is only five years old and can barely take care of himself as it is, isn’t fair to either the dog or Naruto.

But.

A stuffed animal; a plush toy. He can do that.

He is called for a mission the next day, and he arrives back in Konoha on the ninth of October shaking and doing everything in his power to keep himself together long enough to purchase a present and get back home so he can sleep it all off. He steps into the toy store and heads straight to a shelf of plushed animals. It’s a veritable rainbow of color; green alligators, pink giraffes, and so many different colors of cats.

There’s a little girl next to him, thoughtfully looking at the shelf, and she grins up at him, unafraid. “My favorite is the bunny! What’s yours?”

Before he can answer, her mother scuttles up to her and admonishes her for talking to strangers, and guides her away to the cashier.

Kakashi settles on a soft, squishy blue frog, and leaves the store with a gift bag filled with colorful paper and a shiny red bow. Then he goes home and collapses on his futon, not even bothering to remove his armor first.

The tenth falls on a Thursday, and Kakashi has patrol first; he figures it shouldn’t be an issue because Naruto has school, and so he shouldn’t even be home until well after his patrol shift ends. Unfortunately, his shift is over just as the children are released from the Academy. Kakashi has barely enough time to run home and grab the gift bag, and forgets to leave his mask behind. He gets to Naruto’s apartment and contemplates leaving the gift at the door, but the one time he tried to do that to Kushina-san he nearly took a ladle to the head for being inconsiderate; he knocks, instead.

He expects at least a few seconds between his knock and any answer he might get, but instead the door opens the second he finishes. It’s not Naruto; instead it’s a younger man with a scar on his face and his immediate reaction is to reach for a kunai, but then he actually looks and—

Oh.

This is like in Icha Icha, during the first fifty pages or so, when—

“Ah, ANBU-san,” the man says, his brow furrowing. He must be as confused as Kakashi is. “How can we help you?”

Before he can answer, a young voice hollers from inside the apartment, “Iruka-sensei, who’s at the door? Is it the other kids?!”

Kakashi can barely look away. Those eyes…

Before either of them can respond, Naruto bullies his way by Iruka and stares up at Kakashi with wide eyes and a grin that reminds him so very much of Kushina-san and hair just as bright as Sensei’s—albeit, a lot dirtier and messier than Sensei ever kept his.

“Naruto, get back inside,” Iruka hisses.

But Naruto happily points out, “He’s here for the party! Look, Iruka-sensei, he has a present—a real present!! A real live ANBU is here for my party!!!” And, to his credit, Iruka lunges forward, but Naruto is five years old today and slippery, so he gets both of his hands around Kakashi’s arm and drags him into the apartment. Kakashi just manages to get his shoes off before Naruto pulls him past the genkan, and Iruka groans and hangs his head as he slowly shuts the door.

Inside, the main room is set up for a party, with streamers hanging from the ceiling, balloons tied to the chairs, and a very lumpy-looking cake, haphazardly frosted, on the kitchen counter. Kakashi looks around and hums appreciatively; he wasn’t aware that there was going to be an actual party, but this is very much like what he remembers his own childhood birthdays looking like…

Well. Except for the cake. Someone tried to murder that cake and threw enough frosting on it to cover it up.

“—so cool I bet none of the other kids get to have an ANBU at their parties! Who needs ‘em!!”

Kakashi lets Naruto push him into a chair while he takes the gift bag off of his wrist and flits over to the counter to drop it off next to the cake, where there’s a poorly written sign that reads “Presents”.

Naruto keeps scuttling around, chatting about parties and games and what to do’s, and Iruka sits next to him, confused and pained, and murmurs softly, “Please, if you can, play along? Naruto invited everyone from his class, but I don’t think anyone’s going to come.”

Kakashi nods. Again, he doesn’t like it, but he understands. There’s still a fair amount of people who are going to be mourning today, and besides that it’s a school night.

And then there’s the prejudice against Naruto because of what he carries and Kakashi has to forcefully stop thinking about this.

Naruto is still chattering along, and then offers to take his cloak. Kakashi hesitates, but shrugs it off and Naruto takes it with another wide grin, before scurrying into his bedroom. Through the ajar door, Kakashi watches him chuck it on the bed—all of the mess that must have been all over the apartment clearly had been shoved into the bedroom. He’ll wash the cloak later; gods knows what it just landed on.

While Naruto is away, Iruka continues, “Thank you, for staying; but how did you know where—?”

Kakashi very deliberately opens the sharingan so the light catches on the red and he watches realization and understanding soften Iruka’s face.

“Ah. I see, then; thank you. Naruto is… very grateful.”

“Naruto, or you, sensei?”

Iruka looks up, startled, and before he can say anything else, Naruto skids back into place beside them and asks, “Hey hey, now that ANBU-san is here, can we play one of the games? Just one? Until everyone else arrives?”

Iruka’s face falls again as he says, “All the games you have planned require at least four people, Naruto. We need at least one more.”

Kakashi’s chest aches to see Naruto’s face fall, and he speaks before he thinks, saying, “Do you like dogs, Naruto-kun?”

Naruto’s eyes get huge as he shouts excitedly, “I love dogs! Kiba is going to be getting a ninken soon, and he’s been bragging about it for days but there’s this stray that wanders around by the playground that will let me pet it and—”

He offers a silent apology to the pack, then goes through his hand seals, “Kuchiyose no Jutsu.” And with a puff of smoke, Naruto’s rant is cut off and all eight of his ninken look around the now very cramped space.

“Boss?” Bisuke asks cautiously, glancing around.

“THEY CAN TALK?! IRUKA-SENSEI, THEY TALK!!!” Naruto jumps up and down in excitement, “This is the coolest party EVER.” He flings himself the scant distance to Kakashi and wraps his little arms around him in the tightest hug he’s had in well over a decade, and says, “Thank you ANBU-san!!”

Pakkun speaks up, “Boss, seriously, what—”

“Everyone, this is Uzumaki Naruto,” he says to the pack, carefully stressing Naruto’s name while he glares at each one of them. “And today is his birthday. Our current mission is to help Naruto-kun have the best birthday he’s ever had, alright?”

He sees the recognition on each of his ninken’s faces, and soon after that one of them cried, “Pile on the pup!” and then Naruto’s buried in a giant pile of dogs, shrieking laughter and rolling around with them.

The party games are mostly forgotten. They play one, but the ninken are terrible at them; probably something to do with their lack of opposable thumbs. But Naruto is ecstatic to just roll around and wrestle with them, playing tug-o-war, and playing tag in the limited space. Kakashi sits beside Iruka silently, and he’s sweating lightly because he’s realizing just who Iruka is and he’s trying to justify his initial attraction to a sixteen-year-old even though he’s only three years older.

Naruto asks if they can have cake, and then hands out party hats to each of the ninken. Iruka reminds him, “Make sure you ask if they even want one before assuming.” But Naruto is kind and sweet and asks each of his pack if they want a hat, and then asks again if they’d like help getting it on. Every dog gets a hat slipped onto their head, and even Kakashi accepts one, though he declines the assistance in putting it on. His mask gets in the way of the party hat, and not for the first time this evening he wishes he had taken the five seconds at home to put it away before coming.

Iruka lights candles on the cake and turns off the lights, then they sing to him—ninken included—and a banging on the floor interrupts them followed by a muffled, “Shut those dogs up!”

The ninken howl louder. Kakashi chuckles along with Iruka and Naruto and eventually the banging stops.

The ninken aren’t allowed sugar, so Kakashi lets them all go for now with promises to summon them back in five minutes after they’re all done with cake. His initial assessment of the cake is correct in that it’s not very good; overmixed, too much gluten—like a bread instead of the tender crumb a cake should have. Naruto declares that, “It’s the best cake ever!! Don’t you think so, ANBU-san?”

“It is certainly in my top ten,” Kakashi admits. He’s not had that much cake in his life, so it’s not technically a lie.

But Naruto beams anyway, unperturbed. “Iruka-sensei made it!! I think it’s great!”

Iruka flushes lightly; gods, why is he so adorable—

“Can you bring the dogs back, ANBU-san? Please?”

“I suppose they’ve had enough time to eat something on their own,” Kakashi shrugs, and summons them back. All of them have a trinket of some kind in their mouth, and Naruto claps.

“Presents!!!”

Pakkun nods, and one by one the ninken give Naruto their items; a small flat rock, a good sturdy branch, one of them gives Naruto a half-chewed bone. Bull shakes off his vest and drops it in Naruto’s lap and Naruto’s eyes go watery as he tries it on and—

Kakashi has to look to the ceiling to keep from tearing up himself because the kid stammers, “It-it fits, thank you so much!!!” and then hugs Bull so tight the poor dog’s eyes bulge out just a bit.

Iruka’s not doing nearly as well as Kakashi, a few stray tears slipping down his cheeks as he smiles and brushes them away. He gives Naruto his gift, a new pair of sandals that the kid immediately tries on and wetly announces, “They fit too!! Thank you so much, sensei!!!” and then he tackles Iruka in a hug just as tight as the ones he gave to each of the ninken.

Then he opens Kakashi’s present and he gasps and cuddles the frog to his chest and shows it off to each of the ninken and to Iruka and then finally stops in front of Kakashi and says, “I do really like your dogs, ANBU-san. But how did you know that frogs are my favorite?!?”

Kakashi shrugs and says, “It just felt like a Naruto-kun kind of present.”

“I love it. Thank you!!”

Kakashi nods, and is surprised when Naruto lets out a huge yawn before he falls into Kakashi’s chest to try and get a hug.

“It’s late,” Iruka says. “Why don’t you get washed up for bed, Naruto? I'm sure ANBU-san will let you say goodbye to the ninken before you go to bed.”

“Aww, it’s not that late Iruka-sensei,” Naruto whines, but Kakashi sneaks a quick glance at the clock and confirms that it is late, later than he thought. He can’t remember the last time he lost track of time like this.

But Naruto does go around and say good night to each of the ninken, thanking them for coming and hoping to see them around again. They all pile onto him one last time, licking and snuffling him, and they all say bye, too, before Kakashi nods and releases the summon. The kid skips off to his bedroom and closes the door behind himself, and Kakashi feels compelled to help Iruka in taking down the streamers and other decorations.

When Naruto comes back out a few minutes later, he’s dressed in frog-printed pajamas and grinning ear to ear while he hands Kakashi back his cloak and says, “Thanks for coming! And thanks for the frog!” He dives in for one last hug, tight around Kakashi’s thighs, and then scurries over to Iruka and gives him a hug and murmurs a few things that Kakashi politely tunes out. Then, he goes back to his pile of presents, picks out Bull’s vest and the frog plush, and leaves for bed.

Kakashi smiles. Frogs really are his favorite.

With Naruto asleep and the curtains drawn, Kakashi takes off his mask and sets it down on the table with his cloak. Iruka already knows his identity anyway—being in Sandaime’s pocket does wonders for his security clearance. He dries dishes while Iruka washes, and when the apartment is mostly tidied up, Iruka thanks him again.

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” he says.

“Neither did you,” Kakashi points out. He sighs and sets the dish he’s drying down. “He’s my sensei’s son, but you’re the one who baked him a cake.”

“Not a very good one,” Iruka chuckles deprecatingly. “I’m surprised you ate as much as you did.”

“You could go into a poison specialty, sensei.” They both laugh, and Kakashi’s voice is moving on before he can catch it, saying, “I could teach you… if you’d like?” As soon as he realizes what he said, he nearly groans because why would this lovely, kind man want to spend more time with—

But Iruka surprises him, gives him a shy smile and says, “I… that sounds… pleasant. I would like that very much, Hatake-san.”

His mouth is suddenly quite dry, and he croaks, “Kakashi, please.” He coughs to clear his throat, turning his face and hoping that his mask hides most of his blush. “Does Saturday work for you? I could… I could meet you in the market around eleven?”

“That sounds great,” Iruka tells him, and they see themselves out. Kakashi turns his face again when he sees Iruka making seals for the wards, and then startles when a soft hand touches his arm. Iruka grins softly. “Saturday, eleven o’clock. I look forward to it… Kakashi.”

#hatake kakashi #uzumaki naruto #umino iruka #kakairu #kakairu discord server #fluff #my writing #atereal

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tokoyamisstuff · 3 years

Text

Tender Ch. 2 - Loki x Mute! Reader

Summary: Winning the favour of the God of Mischief is not an easy task - even if he has already fallen for you.

Warnings: None.

Words: ~1600

A/N: Since I am writing several Series at once, together with Oneshots in between, the chapters are gonna be a bit shorter so I keep no one waiting. Hope that is alright!

[Story Masterlist] [All of my Works]

Taglist: @austynparksandpizza @queenariesofnarnia @commonintrest @buckylokisimp @just-someone-who-likes-to-write @lxdyred @frostay

The first weeks after your arrival at the Avengers Compound passed by rather uneventful.

Due to the fact that you neither had a family you could be attached to, nor many belongings ever since HYDRA had kidnapped you and destroyed your home, Tony insisted on you living at the tower - like many of the other members as well.

Everything was just so new and exciting, not even Loki’s gleeful mockery could bring you down from that high.

Little did you know that all of his pep talks about those ‘inferior heros’, the ‘illusion of power’ or how no one was ever truly good or evil had a completely different reason:

An attempt to get you to leave, for your own good. After everything that had happened to you, the god was worried how another fight would affect you.

Anyway, it was a luxurious life compared to your old one, with so many kind persons and new perspectives. And you were sure to return that favor once you’d learn to control your powers!

So until then, you would train as hard as possible and care for your new friends through little acts of service. Caring for others came quite natural to you, may it be listening to their problems or simply complimenting them to see their faces brighten up.

And for some reason, that particular character trait was the one thing Loki found the most annoying.

How could a person so naive and pure think they could actually join in battles against evil? You’ll only end up getting yourself killed - and to be honest, Loki thought this to be a waste.

And even though he’d never admit it, but jealousy was starting to get the better of him the more he observed you getting along with everyone.

They adored you - and they were very right in doing so!

But that would mean that you were just nice to everyone, not especially to him, right?

Every time you’d help Bucky through a panic attack, braided Thor’s hair or helped Banner in the laboratory, Loki only wished you’d be with him instead - and if he had to burn this whole place to the ground for this to happen.

Yet his pride kept him from voicing that desire.

For you on the other hand, it was frustratingly hard to get through to the God of Mischief. In comparison to how he treated the other Avengers, he was always reserved and courteous towards you, yet also unreachable distanced.

Only on a weekend where the other Avengers were on a mission, the two of you found a way to actually bond with each other, if only a little.

Loki had once again read every book he borrowed from Stark’s library, now having a reason to leave his room again. At least those subhumans won’t be there to drain on his nerves...

When he crossed the living room on his way to the elevator, he blinked heavily as he saw you plainly chilling on the sofa. He was just about to turn around and leave, when you hectically gestured for him to stay.

“Hey, Loki! 😊” you wrote on a notepad, holding it up for him to read.

“Greetings...” he spoke between gritted teeth, but your smile wouldn’t falter, so he stood rooted in the middle of the room.

“Do you want to watch a movie together?” How blunt could you be to ask a literal god directly, just like that?!

“Actually, I-” When your eyes met, Loki cut himself off, the words being caught in his throat. “Well, if you’re in dire need of my sublime company...”

You were quick to sit up straight, offering a bowl with popcorn to the Odinson which he curiously accepted. When he answered your question about what sweets they eat on Asgard, he wouldn’t understand why you’d laugh. Apparently ‘nuts and grapes’ are not considered treats on earth. Got it.

Yet that little huff you blew out of your nose instead of making an actual laughing sound came somewhat endearing to him, especially in contrast to your other noisy companions. “Adorable...”

Without even asking first, you’d wrap the other half of the blanket around Loki, effectively closing the gap between you two.

“Wha- I’m not cold!” he blurted out, visibly overchallenged by the sudden closeness. “I’m a Jotun, hel!”

What was he even so worked up about? Geeze...

“But the weather on Asgard is rather humid, right?” you wrote down, with him nodding approvingly. "It allows all kinds of flowers to blossom, other than this metal brick” he explained, your excited look not failing to keep him talking. “You should see it some time.”

Loki’s eyes were now locked on the screen, and you could basically grasp his homesicknes, very well aware that a failure and war criminal like him would never be tolerated in those holy grounds ever again.

Great...now you had achieved the exact opposite of what you wanted.

You tugged on his arm so he’d shift your attention to you again, quickly writing something with a barely there sulk on your face:

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you sad.”

Tears were already forming on the rim of your eyes, making Loki’s insides churn. “So sensitive...gods. Keep yourself together, would you.”

The Odinson instinctively wrapped an arm around you, his free hand petting your head as he pulled it to his chest. He was awfully warm for a frost giant, and his heart was hammering against his chest in a fastened pace - maybe just your imagination, though.

“Well, it’s winter...” he uttered, acting as if he actually cared about the plot of the movie. “I may not freeze, but you seemed cold. That’s all.”

You let your hand run across his collarbone, making him look down to you once again. He bit his lip as his icy glare met your warm one, eyes shimmering with earnest affection while you formed silent words with your lips:

“T-h-a-n-k y-o-u.”

“N-no need to thank me.” Just now Loki wondered what kind of spell you were using on him, being reduced to a shaking and stuttering mess.

No curse, no beauty ever before had bewitched him so much that he would lose his cool, let anyone peek under his confident mask, after all.

Not so long ago, when he was still considered the handsome Prince of Asgard, he would bed a different lover on each night, though never settling for anyone.

And after the revelation of his true heritage, even those fleeting encounters to ease his loneliness would falter - all that’s left was certainty that the theory he had ever since his childhood had proven to be true:

That everyone had always secretly despised him, the failure of the family and disgrace to all of Asgard. Only through his Jotun blood they had found a reason to not play along with the royal courtesy anymore, showing their resentment up in the open.

But you...you looked at him with completely different eyes than anyone ever did.

Maybe he had become softer, weaker over time - or simply more mature. His mother once told him to seize the moment when someone truly special would cross his way, and to never let them go.

“We could do this more often.” You shoved the notepad in his line of sight, and just now he noticed that two hours had sure passed in an incredible speed.

Just the two of you, cuddled up on the sofa, enjoying each other’s presence instead of dealing with the troublesome past.

“Well...” Loki clawed into your upper arm softly, no intention of letting you out of his grasp already. “I am sure your other companions are more fun to be around. As you most likely already noticed, I am known for ruining the mood.”

Loki had a habit of talking ill about himself, and letting himself down as well. Yet as he saw you eagerly scribble on the notepad, he knit his brows together, impatient to what you’d say next.

“But I want to see you.” The word ‘you’ was written in a thicker font, underlined several times.

“Why?”, that was the first and only thing crossing his mind. And yet there you sat, shoving the notepad into his face with a stern look on your face.

Loki was rooted on spot as you put the notepad on the table, instead laying your hands on his cheeks and softly tugging on the edge of his lips. “S-m-i-l-e!”

“E-enough!” he carefully pushed your hands away, afraid you’d detect the mild blush on his face. “Then it shall be. What did you have in mind?”

“Whatever you want.”

Loki finally arrived at the library to return his books, even though with a few hours delay. Realizing just how much he had enjoyed that spontaneous meeting with you, he began to panic.

Was it really a good idea to repeat this?

He was almost 100% certain that it would only end in him ruining your trust in anyone completely, if he’d ever allow you to come close to his core.

Due to him having saved you back then, you probably see him as something better than he actually was - and gods, how disappointed you’ll be once you’d find out what he really is like...

It was probably for the best if this would never happen, with him just keeping on to admire you from afar...

After a while of just staring into the void, mentally debating about your offer, he couldn’t help the fact that he was already looking forwards to meeting you again.

Uncertain how to approach the matter, Loki was at least eager to show you his goodwill.

For you have been the first person who - despite everything he had done - was willing to give him another chance.

"Greetings. I need every available book about sign language.”

#Loki #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki / Reader #Loki x Y/N #Loki / You #Loki Odinson #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Friggason #God of Mischief #Marvel #Disney #Writing #Fanfiction #Self Insert

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fireflyinsummer · 3 years

Text

An Amalgamation Waltz 1839. |01|

> pairing: min yoongi x reader

> genre: FallenAngel!AU

> words: 23k

> warnings: hints of smut (heavy make out), a scene of harassment (nothing explicit), violence. possible heresy. forgive me. a third party’s unrequited feelings for OC. don’t know if i did this right, it’s 3 am right now.

> summary: When it comes to the both of you, a lifetime is not enough. And when it comes to you, there’s really no lines he wouldn’t be willing to cross. Even on the brink of a war that could destroy the world as we know it, you’re everything.

“ (...) ‘Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?’ he asked wistfully.

You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

‘I’ve never had to,’ you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you.”

a/n: my love for Paradise Lost gave birth to this. i really like this one :) gonna be posting the second (and last) part soon! no need to say that PL was just an inspiration, this isn’t exactly based on the poem.

“(…) Here at least

We shall be free, the almighty hath not built

Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:

Here we may reign secure, and in my choice

To reign is worth ambition though in hell:

Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven.”

The sudden thud on the wooden surface of the table made you jolt and close the book, heart rate increasing considerably.

“Y/N.” His voice was deep, dragging your name through his teeth to evince his annoyance. The bustling café was already at its peak hours and you didn’t even notice the time as it passed you by.

“Yes, Taehyung?” You ogled your grumpy friend, his noisy arrival being due to the study material he tossed in front of you.

“You said you’d help me with English lit. I was waiting for you at the library for about an hour and your phone is off.” As you remembered why you were even in the café in the first place, you threw him a guilty look. He pouted. “Hey, what does that Milton guy have that I don’t? And the fancy words don’t count.” You giggled.

“John Milton has nothing on you, Tae. He’d probably need my help to get through this semester as well.” The joke seemed to almost let you in his good graces again, but you knew he still needed the bribery. “I’ll buy you your favorite if you forgive me.” You could tell he was fighting back a smile upon hearing your offer, his mood suddenly uplifted.

“Okay. But don’t think I’ll let you off the hook that easily.”

“I wouldn’t dare. Wait here.” You went to the balcony to pay the check and get his frappuccino to go. Taehyung was a sweet guy who liked sweet things, and that also applied to his coffee. His sweet tooth earned him a nickname from you – Marzipan. Waiting for the bartender to finish your order, you looked over where your best friend was digging through your copy of Paradise Lost without much enthusiasm.

You had moved in next door to his house about fifteen years ago, and you two instantly initiated a solid friendship. As much as you could say about three-year-olds. Despite him being one of your favorite people in the whole world, the both of you were into totally different things. He went to parties, you enjoyed some lone quality time. He played all sorts of sports, you preferred to stick to your writing and, sometimes, the piano. You were still working on the latter. But even though you seemed to be totally opposites, he still got you like no one else could. He was the person you told all your secrets to, not that you had that many anyway, and you liked to think – no, you were sure of it – he felt the same way about you.

“Here’s your overly-sweet drink, Marzipan. I don’t even know if you can still call it coffee,” you scowled.

“Don’t diss my frappuccino, it’s the sole reason of my forgiveness.”

“Yeah, right. So, you wanna get going? I’m sure you have a lot of thoughts on that book already.”

“It was very average so far, if I do say so myself. I don’t know why you like it so much,” he teased you.

“Well, that’s what the private lessons are for. So I can teach you good taste.” You pushed the door open and immediately shivered as you felt a cold gush of air. It was snowing.

“Here, take my coat. Why don’t you ever wear decent clothes in the winter? I swear to God, I don’t know how you never caught something serious, like pneumonia or whatever,” he scolded.

“You don’t have to. We’re near home anyway,” you tried to reassure him, but he was, as usual, outwardly ignoring it. “Really, Tae, it’s no big deal. Let’s go.” He was ready to fight you on this one, but you were already walking away. He took a few hurried steps to catch up.

After a ten-minute walk, daylight was almost completely gone, lit lampposts following its wake. You both hit the front door rug with your feet several times before getting inside, your mom was a bit freaky when it came to cleaning.

“Mom, Tae’s here!” You shouted from the living room, guessing she was in the kitchen. “We’re going upstairs for a bit! School work!”

“Okay, honey! Tell him that dinner will be ready soon!” She responded.

“I love you, Ms. D’Angelis!” He shot back. Yes, you had an italian background. When she heard his voice, she made sure to come out and greet him.

“Love you, too, honey”, she pecked his forehead and he beamed. They liked each other way too much for their own good. “And you,” she pointed in your direction, “give mamma a kiss.”

You sighed before attending to her request. It was in your best interest not to fight it. “Okay, enough of this. We’ll be upstairs if you need us.”

“Have fun, kids.” You sure would. Taehyung might beg to differ.

The rest of the night was somewhat peaceful. You had helped Taehyung as much as you could before your mother called you out to eat, claiming that you shouldn’t starve the boy and then make him eat a cold meal. He couldn’t agree fast enough. For the most part, that was your life. Uncomplicated and comfortable, which was plenty for an eighteen year old. When you went to bed after practicing the piano for a little while, you were completely unaware of the pair of pitch black eyes that observed you through the window. But he was fully aware of you.

||\\

[Fear of the Water, by SYML]

You knew it was a dream. From the moment your brain processed the heavenly sight that unrevealed before your eyes, you knew. It was breaking dawn, the soft orange light kissing the ocean like a long lost lover. You were at the end of a cliff, but couldn’t find it in yourself to be afraid. You looked down at the waves that broke into the rocks almost violently, the salty breeze somewhat comforting. You loved the sea.

Taking a few deep breaths, you barely noticed the crack. The sound came from somewhere behind you, but you didn’t want to look away from the view, neither did you want to wake up. When you heard it again, you recognized footsteps. You turned around lazily, curious as to whom it would be the visitor of your reverie. When you fixed your eyes on him, though, you stopped breathing for a moment and your heart surely skipped a beat. He was a stranger in a number of ways, for he was seemed truly unworldly. Maybe ethereal was the word you were looking for. His violet eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe. Beautiful. His hair was dark as it fell like a silky curtain on his forehead. Not a single flaw on his skin or his body, but none of that was as breathtaking as what lied on his back. Great, large white wings, so beautifully outstretched that you felt unworthy of looking at them.

You opened your mouth a few times, but nothing would come out. Probably for the best, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of what was probably your mind’s greatest creation. How you could come up with him was beyond you. You wanted to ask his name before it all ended and you had to go back to real life, back to average. You wanted to touch his face, his wings, see for yourself if they felt as they looked. You wished you never woke up. As he took a step closer, you took your own back, startled at the sudden movement. Before you realized your mistake, it was too late. You had lost your balance. You knew it would be over soon. Taking one last look at the stranger, you saw as he stretched one arm to reach you, but to no avail. Too soon, the wind was ricocheting your skin and you were falling.

You woke up with a loud gasp as you searched for air, finding it oddly rarefied. When you registered the annoyingly high pitch of your alarm, you whined. Real life was the last thing you wanted to face right now, but if you told your mother that you’d stay in bed daydreaming about a figment of your imagination, she would personally retrieve you from the bed and toss you into the shower. Made sense.

Getting ready as quickly as you could manage, you felt excited for no obvious reason. Maybe it was the afterglow of the dream, but now you were eager to get out of the house, as if you wanted to find him. Which was insane, because you knew he did not exist. Come to think about him now, it was getting harder by the minute to remember his face. You panicked.

Running towards your desk and grabbing a pencil and your notebook, you tried to recreate him on paper, which was a lost battle from the start. Even if you were some doodling genius – you were definitely not – you would never be able to do him justice. You doubted anyone who had ever stepped on this planet, past or present, ever would. It was not the kind of beauty that could be explained or demonstrated, but rather felt. He wasn’t just inhumanely pretty, wings and all. There was something about him that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It may sound cheesy and totally deranged, but you felt whole in those few shared moments, like you knew him your entire life. Your mind didn’t recognize him, but your body did.

Groaning at the piece of paper and throwing the pencil at your baby-blue wall in annoyance, you gave up. It was pointless, his features were already escaping your mind. You didn’t know why you were so hung up on a dream, honestly. Seeing that you were a little riled up, you decided to let it go and just finish getting ready for class. You could see through the window that Taehyung was already waiting for you.

||\\

“So, how did it go?”

He pouted before answering. “It went alright.” Lies, he was a big fat liar.

“C’mon, Marzipan, be honest with me for a second.”

The nickname finally broke him down. “Fine, I hated it. I remember you telling me about every important detail of the subject yesterday, but I couldn’t put it on paper. Plus, why the fuck does he have to elaborate the questions so much? Most of the time I didn’t even understand what was being asked. Literature sucks,” he whined indignantly. You could tell it was taking a toll on him.

“Don’t worry too much about it, okay? I will help you. We’ll both graduate this year, yeah?” you reached his hand on a reassuring squeeze.

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

“Then sure. But you have to take me seriously, Y/N,” he warned you. “No more losing track of time in coffee shops.”

“Hey, I bought you a frappuccino, that incident should be six feet under by now,” you accused and he mumbled a grumpy response.

The both of you spent half of the morning taking the lit test. You thought you did fine, though the questions really were a little bit tricky. Walking side by side with Taehyung, you didn’t notice him at first. But once you realized there were no seats available right next to each other, your eyes eventually landed on his.

“We can’t sit together through this class, we’re too late,” Tae grumbled, trying to get your attention back to himself, but to no avail. “Y/N? Hey!” He flicked your forehead and you yelped.

“Did you just… flick me?” you seethed.

“I wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t lusting over the new guy. Who is he, by the way?” If you acknowledged the hint of jealously in his tone, you didn’t show it.

“I was not lusting over anybody,” you huffed.

“If you say so.”

“Stop saying that.”

“Grumpy. Is it because I caught you?” You just snarled and took a seat at the front row, while he chuckled and chose the one in the back.

To be honest, you were lusting a little. Those eyes seemed oddly familiar, though you couldn’t quite put a finger on why. The rest of the day passed by smoothly; you were able to sit with Taehyung for the remaining classes you had together and even helped him a bit with some homework. After a while, your new classmate was nowhere near your mind, despite that funny feeling you got every time you looked at him. Maybe it was because he was stunningly handsome. Who knows? You never cared much about those things, but you were only human.

On your way home with Taehyung, you felt eyes burning on your back. You turned around and found him staring, expression unfathomable. He wore a black lather jacket, jeans and a black shirt, his dark hair beautifully disheveled. He gave you a wanton grin and you scoffed. Well, you knew his type, and it unnerved you to death.

Preppy playboy. Nothing more, nothing less.

He cut off the eye contact abruptly, heading towards a grey motorcycle. No shit, huh? You almost laughed at the predictability. You weren’t exactly into bikes, but that looked expensive. And it suited him perfectly.

“Holy-… do you see that? That’s a Triumph fucking Rocket,” Taehyung gasped, shaking your elbow lightly. “A 2500cc engine capacity Triumph Rocket. Man, his parents must be loaded. That’s not a high schooler’s bike,” he said, almost dreamy. Yeah, you saw that coming from a mile away.

“You talking about the new guy?” You asked nonchalantly, turning your head as you resumed walking.

“Don’t even try to pretend you weren’t ogling just now,” he accused.

“You’re obsessed with our new-found bad boy. Maybe you should date him, Tae,” a snicker left your lips at his appalled expression.

“Shut up,” he pushed your shoulder. “I’m just curious.”

“As in bi-curious?”

“Okay, that’s it, I’m leaving you behind,” he grumbled as he fastened his pace. You chuckled, trying to catch up with his long legs.

When you arrived home, you noticed an attempt of a drawing on top of your bed. It looked like a poorly doodled angel. First things first: though it definitely looked like something made by your hands, you didn’t have any recollection of it, let alone of leaving it on display like that. You looked around, searching for something, but nothing else seemed out of place. Trying to shrug the uneasiness off, you picked some clothes off the wardrobe and went for a warm bath.

||\\

It was a Saturday afternoon, so you planned to do the usual: hit the library and grab some coffee on your way home. Taehyung had promised to watch a movie with you this weekend, but a surprise party to one of his friends came up. He’d invited you to tag along, more out of habit than anything else. Your answer was always the same when he asked you to spend time with his peers; you weren’t even remotely fond of them. They had maybe one functioning braincell and a whole lot of conceit. Not your crowd at all.

“Mom, I’m leaving. Do you need me to get you anything?” You said, already on your way to the front door.

She was sprawled on the couch, gazing attentively at the TV. “No, honey, thank you. Are you going out with Tae?”

“Nope, something came up, we rescheduled. I won’t be long.”

“Okay, then. Be careful!”

“Will do!”, you shouted from the outside.

It was closing time when the sweet old lady had to gently kick you out. You weren’t surprised when you found out your phone was dead; you probably had a billion calls from your mother and, if she was desperate enough, maybe even Taehyung. Letting out a sigh, you grabbed your stuff quickly and waved goodbye to the librarian as you made your way out the door, grumbling to yourself about not being able to pick up some coffee now.

The air was hazy and cold, you couldn’t see more than ten feet ahead, and the streets were oddly empty. You tightened your coat around your body and quickened your pace, not willing to spend more time outside than you needed to. Seeing that all the stores were closed, you realized that Martha (the librarian) probably let you outstay your welcome a little bit. You cursed at the freezing night and your cheap coat. Taehyung was right, you should buy warmer clothes.

Lost in thoughts, you were stupid enough to miss the drunken noises coming from the end of the street. There was a group of three men coming your way and they all seemed to have ingested an unhealthy amount of booze, laughing loudly and pushing each other playfully. You felt cold sweat fall down your spine but just tried to ignore it, hoping that you’d be able to pass them by without being noticed.

“Y/N?” His voice was dragged, and he was tumbling around the words. It was only then you realized they were from your school, the boy in the middle being Jimmy, Taehyung’s drink buddy.

“Hi”, you tried to stay as far away as possible, but the one with the fashionably boring rectangular glasses didn’t let you, hooking his arm around your neck. He reeked of cigarettes and whiskey.

“C’monnn-“ he hiccupped, “don’t you wanna par-tay with-“ another one, “-us?”

You repressed the urge to gag as your pulse quickened.

“Not really. I have to go,” you almost managed to untangle his disgusting arm from you, but he kept it in place, holding you tighter. “Let go of me.”

You were annoyed. And scared to death, to be honest. These boys didn’t exactly live by a moral code, and the four of you were alone in the middle of nowhere. You didn’t trust them.

“Aww, don’t be shy, princess. You’re always so… boring. Makes me curious about what you’ve got going on under all… that.” The last one, Ian, made his way towards you, snickering menacingly. He wasn’t as drunk as the other two, and if you could give a hunch, you’d say he knew exactly was he was doing. That scared you even more. Feeling the brick-wall hit your back, you realized you were cornered, a curse escaping your dry lips.

“Look, I really have to g-“ he cut you off by pressing his body into yours, making you lose your breath for all the wrong reasons. “What the fuck, man?! Let go of me!” You were visibly growing desperate as you tried to punch his face and his chest, but that only earned you a chuckle from him as he held both your wrists with one hand.

“Feisty. I like it.” You almost puked right then and there, the bile stuck in your throat making you scowl. He let his filthy fingers slide down your sides, until he could grope your ass.

Your stomach sank, heart drumming against your ribcage as you held back a whimper.

Okay, think.

Taehyung had taught you the basics about self defense a thousand moons ago. And yet, you realize that it was nothing like the real thing. You balled your clammy fingers tightly, knuckles white as you scanned every corner of your brain to try and find a way out.

“Tae will kill you if you touch me,” your voice trembled. You couldn’t help it.

He laughed whole-heartedly. As if the mere thought was actually funny to him.

“He wouldn’t dare, sweetheart. Besides, I think he actually wouldn’t mind sharing his bitch with us for the night,” he stated. “He’s not using it anyways,” he punctuated with a roll of his hips and, this time, as you felt the pathetic bulge inside his pants, you couldn’t hold back a tiny sob. Because fuck, this was it. There was no way you could take down three grown men on your own.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The voice was low and steady. It made your skin crawl. You snapped your head and looked at the dark haired man standing behind the boys. Ian lazily turned around, still keeping your wrists wrapped tight in his hand.

“None of your business, newbie. Now get out of my sight before I lose my patience.”

When he chuckled, it was different from Ian’s. It was darker, rougher, and concealed a vicious ferocity that you knew was there. You knew because, as he disregarded your aggressor and looked you in the eyes, you almost feared for them.

“Ian, dude, let it go.” Jimmy instantly sobered up and tried to avoid any confrontation. To think he spent time with your best friend but would let Ian harass you without saying a word was disgusting. “Come on, your old man will kill you if you get in trouble again.” So that was his main concern. Still looking out for his shitty, abusive friend. Men’s sorority really is misogyny.

“You should listen to your friend. Believe me, you won’t survive me when I get my hands on you,” he stated matter-of-factly. You felt the sincerity in your bones. And so did Ian and his stupid cavalry. “Leave.”

Ian sighed, but relented. You felt a hot wave of relief as he disconnected his body from yours, leaning on the wall for balance as your legs wabbled.

“You better watch out,” he spits.

“Y/N, I... I’m really sorry,” Jimmy said as he scooped his friends and dragged them away from you. “You too, Min. He’s just drunk. We would’ve stopped him if it got too far.”

He’s lying. You can tell.

“Get the fuck out of my sight,” he growls, his composure faltering for a minute. As they stray out of view, he turns his gaze to you.

“Care to tell me what the hell are you doing walking alone in the middle of the night?”

He’s angry.

You scoffed, adjusting your coat around your shoulders and straightening your back.

“Thank you for the help, but I’m too old for a babysitter,” you say. “Besides, I don’t even know you.”

He looks at you and, as if trying to regain some sense and control a fit of rage, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose before exhaling a long puff of air.

“Alright. My name is Yoongi,” he takes you by surprise as he snatches your wrist in an iron grip, “And I'm fucking walking you home.”

As he drags you across the street, you want to yell at him. You want to tell him to fuck off, you preppy bastard. But you don’t.

Because the truth is, you’re so fucking grateful. God knows what would’ve happened if it wasn’t for him. As he calms down, he drops your hand and slows his pace, allowing you to catch up without having to make an effort. You want to talk, but you choose to stay quiet.

Now that you weren’t so skittish anymore, it finally dawned you how the snow was beautifully spread throughout the streets, the trees, the buildings. Everything that was cool, cold, blue, held some fascination to you. Summer was never really your season – it had always been winter. To be able to curl up on your couch with a warm blanket and a hot cup of coffee, it was heavenly. You always thought that, if you could see the world through a color palette, it would be in different shades of blue.

The snow was not the only thing that you were entranced by, though. Yoongi was, from what you saw so far, much like winter to you. Harsh when needed, cool, but also peaceful and comforting. He didn’t urge you to talk about the incident; he didn’t urge you to talk at all. His mannerisms caught your attention from time to time – how he constantly ran his long fingers through his hair, how his eyes seemed to flutter shut lazily a few times in a row, or how he carried himself so elegantly that it almost made you jealous. He looked terribly familiar, too.

“Why are you staring?” His bluntness caught you off guard, but still couldn’t disturb the peacefulness of the moment.

“Just curious.” It was true. “Apart from the motorcycle and the superhero complex, I don’t know much about you.”

“Well, there’s not much to know.”

You hummed in response. “What are you doing here, then?” You ask, and his feet come to a halt.

“What is this, an interrogation?”

You scoff, and you both start walking again. “Just trying to make conversation. Besides, I’m actually curious,” you ponder. “People don’t move into this town very often,” you kick the snow under your feet. He sighs.

“I’m here with my… brother,” he hesitated before continuing, “he’s my guardian, sort of. We used to move a lot. Work thing.” He couldn’t hold back a grimace, but it disappeared in a second. You wanted to ask about his parents, but felt like you’d be crossing a line, so you kept your curiosity to yourself. “Now you tell me,” he said.

“Tell you what?”

“About yourself. Your family. Whatever you want to.”

“Um, let me see. I live with my mom. We moved from Italy when I was about three years old. My dad… my dad stayed.” You didn’t want to get into it, and he immediately noticed, just nodding for you to continue. “She’s been taking care of me by herself since then.”

He hummed in understanding, sparing you a few glances that you couldn’t quite decipher.

Before you knew, your house was already in sight. You wished you lived farther, just so you could keep that strange interaction on for a little longer.

“Well, this is me,” you announced. Lying about your address had crossed your mind somewhere along the way.

“Sorry if I was a jerk,” he surprised you by saying. You mouth opens and closes a few times before you say anything.

“It’s okay, I guess. I was pretty riled up, too.”

He nodded. “See you Monday, then?” His voice was deep and silky.

“Yeah. Hey, I… I’m glad you showed up when you did.”

“I am, too,” there was a dark undertone in his voice. “Good night, Y/N,” he surprised you by leading his right hand to the top of your head and lightly messing your hair before walking away. You stood still for a minute, until your mother opened the door.

“Y/N?! Darling, why did you take so long? I was so worried!”

“Um… Sorry, mom. I ran into a friend and my phone was off.”

“Well, you should’ve at least borrowed your friend’s phone to let me know, things aren’t like they used to be around these parts anymore, it’s getting pretty danger-“

She kept talking as she let you in, but you couldn’t concentrate. That night, you dreamt of him.

||\\

“(…) Farewell happy fields

Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors, hail

Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell

Receive thy new possessor: one who brings

A mind not to be changed by place or time.

The mind is its own place, and in itself

Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”

You didn’t think of yourself as an early riser, but when Monday morning came, you woke up before the alarm – and seemed almost delighted to do so. To be honest, you really tried to ignore the eagerness to see him again, but to no avail. The day before was thoroughly torturous, flashes of the short period of time you spent together coming back to haunt you now and then. At some point, you were so annoyed that you just lied on the bed and attempted to blast your eardrums off by listening to some crappy rock band at full volume. It didn’t work, obviously, and now you probably had hearing damage. The cons and cons of obsession.

At this exact moment, for the first time in your entire friendship, you were banging on Taehyung’s door first. Because you just couldn’t wait a minute longer.

“Damn it, woman, was is it with you today?” The sound of his voice was muffled. That, or you were going deaf, there was no way to tell for sure.

“You’re going to make us late, Marzipan!” At that, he opened his bedroom door slightly, just enough so you could peek at his disheveled hair and sleepy face.

“It’s dick o’clock in the morning, we have at least forty minutes until we leave,” his voice was rugged and he had an aggrieved look plastered on his pouty face.

“I brought you coffee,” you smiled at him while raising the thermal cup.

“Stop the madness and go wait for me downstairs, Gilmore girl,” he grunted. “Dad probably misses you, the poor old man. Keep him company, will ya?”

“Don’t be silly, Mrs. Kim need his sleep in the morning.”

“Then shut up and don’t wake him,” he grunted, closing the door shut, but it took him just a second to reopen it. “Wait, if dad’s asleep, how did you get in?”

“I, uh… Might or might not know that you keep a spare key inside the porcelain elf’s hat,” your lips tugged upwards sheepishly.

“Of course you do, you little imp. I’ll be down in a sec,” he grumbled and shut the door again.

Taehyung had asked you a couple of times why you were so anxious to get to school that morning, but you just brushed it off with an excuse that you knew he wouldn’t buy. There were several reasons as to why you wanted to keep things to yourself for now. Mainly, it was because you were afraid that he’d be furious enough to break Ian’s face in front of everybody once you told him the whole story. Not that you felt any sympathy, but rather that you didn’t want Tae to get in trouble. You’d tell him as soon as you could, though. You didn’t care for the idea of him being friends – or whatever they were – with Jimmy.

As soon as you stepped into school ground, you discreetly searched for his motorcycle in the parking lot. It wasn’t there. You tried not to let the disappointment show on your face, but you couldn’t help it. He didn’t come today. Who cares? As much as you wanted to force some sense into your stubborn brain, you were still hoping he’d show up, even if you didn’t talk to each other. You just wanted to see him, is all. Great time to start acting like a stupid teenager, Y/N. Kudos.

You were in the middle of a pretty heated argument with yourself as you entered the classroom. Taehyung picked a desk in the middle, as he usually did when the both of you were able to sit next to each other. You were almost putting your stuff down at his side when something caught your attention. There. You felt a girlish jolt of excitement when you saw Yoongi sitting at the last row. His silky black hair was damped, probably from the shower, and he was wearing a black, long sleeved shirt, v cut. You were about to divert your eyes, but then he stared right at your face and calmy removed his bag from the chair next to his. He smirked, as if defying you to take a seat. Annoying little piece of-

“Tae, do you mind if I sit somewhere else today?”

“What?” He looked at you, confused. “Where do you want us to…” Your eyes flashed to the end of the room and he followed your gaze. “What? Why would you-”

“Do you mind?”

“Uh… No?”

“Okay, great. See you soon.” You knew Taehyung was confused, so you should probably be thinking of what to tell him when this class was over. But for now, you just carried yourself to the empty spot in the back. Yoongi was looking at you with an amused expression, hiding his little smile behind his intertwined hands. You wanted to wash that smug off his face so bad. You took a seat and his scent assaulted you, warm and musky. Almost irresistible. You saw Taehyung from across the room gazing at the both of you with an inscrutable countenance.

“Is your boyfriend mad that you sat with me today?” He audaciously asked.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“I see. Must be hard, then,” he looked almost sympathetic.

“What?” Your face contorted into confusion.

“Nevermind. Tell me how was your Sunday,” he said while opening his notebook and doodling something you couldn’t decipher yet.

“So we’re friends now?”

“Pretty much.”

“Shouldn’t you ask me first?” You lifted your brow.

“You’re bossy today.”

You were about to give him a proper answer when the teacher barged in, almost breathless. As the class began, focusing on Hess’s Law was your main priority, it really was. But you couldn’t help the tingle crawling up your skin every time he unintentionally bumped his arm into yours, because he was still drawing, keeping his head down since Mrs. Edwards started talking. Still, you couldn’t move. No. Focus. You held onto the edge of your desk with one hand, knuckles white, as you kept the other taking notes on the subject.

“Relax,” he softly whispered, not taking his eyes away from his notebook. You immediately loosened the tight grip of your left hand.

“I’m relaxed,” you lied, imitating his tone. He chuckled, lifting his head to show you the most beautiful gummy smile. God, why was he so distractingly handsome? His soft, pale skin, his cat-like eyes. His hands, Lord, you wouldn’t even dwell on his hands. Everything about him was appealing, alluring. His voice, his smell, his gaze. He was devilish.

All of a sudden, he ripped off the page he was working on. You tried not to get even more distracted, keeping your eyes on the board, until he touched your arm with his hand. You tensed. “Here, keep this if you want to,” he said, passing the folded paper to you. Curiosity washed over your face and you were about to unfold it, but he stopped you. “I don’t think you should open it now.”

“Why? Is it, like, an erotic sketch?” You could tell you broke his demeanor a little, he seemed both shocked and amused.

“I wonder if that kind of thought crosses your brain very often. You’re filthy, Y/N,” he smirked. You almost choked at his tone and his words. He was teasing you, and you refused to go down without a fight.

“Well, I don’t exactly know you, do I? You could be a perv.” He bit back a chuckle.

“I’m an honorable man. You’ll see.”

“Will I, now?”

“Yes. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

“You haven’t convinced me yet.”

“Challenge accepted.” The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds, then the bell rang. He grabbed his stuff and got up, then tilted his head and asked, “Do you want a ride… friend?”

“I thought you didn’t ride here today.” Confusion stained his expression before he realized the meaning behind your words. You could see the enlightenment in his face and suddenly banging your head on a wall wasn’t all too bad. He was too cocky for his own good, and now you’ve just made it worse. Way to go.

“I parked on a different spot,” he responded.

“Yeah, sure. Uh, anyways… Thanks for the offer, but I’m going home with Tae.”

“Suit yourself.” Before walking away, he turned around and said, “I’ll save you a seat tomorrow, Y/N.” Before you could elaborate an answer, he was already out the door, and Taehyung was in front of you with that ‘what-the-actual-fuck’ face he made every time he was caught off guard.

“I’ll explain on the way home,” you sighed.

||\\

You were both in the safety of your bedroom when you told Taehyung everything. From how Ian tried to do God knows what with you, to why he wasn’t able to. Pure luck. It was pure luck that Yoongi happened to be passing by, and it was pure luck that he’d bothered to check what was going on. You told him Jimmy was there. You saw the guilt and rage clawing their way to his chest, and there it was; the reason you were wary to tell him in the first place. Taehyung was explosive, a force of nature when he let himself indulge.

“I’ll kill him. Why did you hide that from me?” Even though he was trying his best to hold back, you could still tell how furious he truly was. “Answer me, Y/N, I’m not fucking around here,” he didn’t mean for it to sound like a scold, but it still did.

“I knew you’d be mad,” you retorted.

“Of course I’d be fucking mad. I don’t think you understand just how mad I am.”

“I know. Tae, really, nothing serious happened. It’s not worthy getting yourself in trouble for it.”

“How can you even say that?” he barked.

“Promise me you’ll let it go,” you asked softly.

He looked like he’d just heard the worst profanity fall from your lips. “I don-“

“Promise, Tae,” you were using your serious voice now, the one you used to tell him that no, it was not okay for him to mess with your books back when you were kids. You took it to the heart too often. He stared at you for a moment or two before sighing.

“Okay,” he grudgingly said. “If that’s what you want.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he said after a moment.

“It’s not your fault. Really, it’s not.”

“I know. I’m just… sorry,” he let his head rest on your lap. You hummed and stroke his hair for a while. These little moments of utter understanding and peace was one of the reasons he was your best friend. The person you could rely on, always. And he could always rely on you, too.

||\\

A few weeks passed you by in the blink of an eye. After the infamous events of that night, you and Yoongi grew closer each day. Not that it was always easy, he was infuriating at times; you had to be sharp to keep up with the incessant bickering. But, for what it’s worth, you were able to gather that he was much more than just a little shit, even though he tried to deny it.

And you suppose that’s one of the reasons to why your stomach flutters and your heart skips a couple of beats when he gets too close.

Probably a month too late, you come across that piece of paper Yoongi had mysteriously given you the first morning you sat together. You took it in your hands with a gasp and carefully unfolded it, taking a sharp intake of breath at the drawing. It was a pair of eyes – your eyes, perfectly detailed by strong, yet delicate, traces. It was beautiful and left no room for doubts as to whose they were. The cocky bastard was actually pretty talented, you had to give him that. Before you had much time to think about it, your phone rang. You hesitated a moment before picking up, the number was unknown.

“Hello?”

“Did you like it?” The voice on the other line was coarse and drawn, and you recognized it immediately.

“How did you get my number?” You asked while laying yourself on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

He had become a constant whenever you were at school or at the library. Nothing beyond that. The call was a pleasent surprise.

“I have my ways. Will you answer at least one of my questions anytime soon?” There was a hint of a boyish amusement in his tone, and that instantly made you lighter. You liked him better in a good mood.

“You don’t answer any of mine, so why should I bother?” You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see you.

“That’s hardly fair. What do you want to know, George?”

You scoffed at the nickname. “First things first. I want to know how you got my number.”

“It’s not so hard to get privileged information on the students’ personal data if you’re charming enough. Ms. Parker has a soft spot for me.” Of course. You should’ve seen it coming.

“You’re shameless,” you scolded half-heartedly, taking a plushie in your hands and squeezing it.

“It’s one of my many qualities. So, can you answer me now?”

“Hmm… I might’ve liked it,” you stated, referring to the book he’d recommended. “But you’re already a pretty conceited man, so I should probably spare you the details.”

He was silent for a while, and you almost mention the drawing you found in your backpack. But then, he’s talking again. “So you think I’m pretty, huh?”

“Are you… Have you-“ you stammered in astonishment and he chuckled. “Do you actually select the words you want to hear?” you asked and he hummed.

“Where are you?”

“Home,” you answered without much thought.

“I’ll pick you up in ten. Be ready.”

“Wait, what?” You jolted out of the bed, dropping the plushie on the floor. “You can’t just… decide that. What if I’m busy?”

“You’re not.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“But you do,” He sounded almost confused. And he was right, you did want to. Somewhere deep inside your brain there was a voice saying that you should’ve objected at least a little bit more. But, against your better judgement, you kept quiet, and soon enough your silence gave you away. “I’m hanging up now. See you soon, George.” You meant to talk back to him, but he’d already ended the call. That, arrogant, insolent, contemptuous jer-

Before finishing that thought, you remembered you didn’t have much time. So you took a five minute shower, put on a little mascara and went out of the bathroom to find something to wear. There wasn’t enough time to go wild, so you just went for your favorite pair of mom jeans and tucked a burgundy sweater in. After brushing your hair and your teeth, you were ready.

As soon as you were done, you heard a horn and rushed to the window. There he was, in all his glory, hips resting against his stupidly cool Triumph Rocket. Black boots, black jeans, black long-neck shirt and his usual leather jacket. Wonder what his favorite color might be, you scoffed. He shot you a smirk that made you hold your breath for a moment. It now occurred to you that you had no idea as to where he was taking you. Also, was it a date? A friend thing? Shit. You should’ve said no. You sighed. It was too late now.

Before running downstairs, you sprayed a little bit of perfume on the nape of your neck and your wrists. Chloé, your signature scent.

“I’m going out for a bit.”

She was sitting by the window with a hot beverage on her hands and a book on her lap. Like mother, like daughter.

“Last time you said that…”

“I know,” you cut her off gently. “But I have class tomorrow. I promise I won’t be long.”

“Is your phone charged, young lady?”

“Yep, it is.”

“Then call me if anything happens, alright?”

“Sure thing. Bye, mom,” you gave her a brief peck on the forehead and rushed out the door.

He was waiting for you at the porch, even more breathtaking now that you could see him up close. His musky scent was stronger and his pale skin was glowing. He was drinking you in with mysteriously piercing eyes.

“Come,” he said, taking you by the hand.

“Where are we going anyway?” you asked. As the both of you approached his motorcycle, you were trying your best not to trip.

“You’ll see.” He took a helmet off a compartment that you didn’t know to exist and cupped your face to hold you still before he put it on you.

“Is this like a Hitchcock movie? Will you take me just far enough so I can meet my fate by the end of the night?” A hint of dread crossed his features, but he composed himself soon enough.

“Do you believe in fate, Y/N?” He asked, fixing the straps under your chin, his fingers setting your skin aflame.

“I don’t know,” you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but his countenance urged you to provide a proper answer. “Faith is just not my strong suit, I guess,” you mumbled.

Yoongi pondered about what you said for a moment. “Hold that thought, yeah?” Then he climbed the vehicle. “Hop on,” he started the engine. You were now too aware of the fact that you had never ‘hopped on’ one of those. “Don’t worry, I’m a really good driver,” he tugged his lips upwards.

“I just… I’ve never done this.”

“What, ride a motorcycle?” He asked and you nodded. “Trust me. I wouldn’t let anything happen,” he reassured you.

I know. So you climbed the damn thing and held tight onto his waist, almost comforted by his warmth. He felt the sensitive skin on his back crawl at the contact. Especially between his shoulder blades.

||\\

You spent the entire ride with your eyes closed. If you had any doubt that Yoongi was a mad man, those god-knows-how-many minutes on the back of his motorcycle had erased them completely. He was going fast. You could feel the wind ricocheting your face relentlessly, and every time he had to make a turn, your stomach fluttered. Sometimes, he turned his head just a little bit, as if checking if you were at least breathing, but you would grit your teeth and snap at him to look ahead, tightening your grip. You could feel him chuckle, his whole upper body being assaulted by small tremors.

But when you finally arrived at your destination, it was all worth it.

“Do you like it?” Expectation washed all over his ethereal features.

“Do I… like it? It’s amazing,” your eyes sparkled with wonder and astonishment at the sight of the ocean. You were at a relatively high spot, like a small cliff, and you could smell the delicious salty breeze that you adored so much. But what truly amazed you, what really took your breath away, was the electric blue lights sparkling all over the wave crests. “Bioluminescence! How did you find this place? Can we go down?” You asked with the biggest smile, a childish excitement seeping through your tone. He giggled, the most magnificent, angelic sound you had ever heard.

“I’d rather if we didn’t. I don’t want you to meet your fate at those slippery rocks, it wouldn’t be very Hitchcock-y,” he joked. You felt a bit disappointed but chose to let it go. The night, the sea, the sky; it was all too beautiful for you to allow yourself to be petty.

He took a few steps ahead and sat closer to the edge, wind whisking his hair and making his catlike eyes narrow. You followed suit, sitting in lotus by his side. You both took a minute to appreciate the sight, falling into a comfortable silence, that was soon broken by his husky voice.

“I come here a lot when I need to remind myself of who I am. Of where I’m from,” he said, still looking at the waters below, eyebrows furrowed. “I never thought of bringing anyone else here before.”

“So why did you?” Your voice was small, whispered.

“I don’t know. I guess…” he stopped for a moment. “I possibly just wanted to make sure you were okay. And I don’t know any place else that feels more like home to me. Perhaps I also wanted to share it with you.” Then he turned his gaze to you, eyes reflecting the moonlight. He was divine, bewitching. Especially now, when he seemed to be opening up to you for the first time. You felt your heartbeat speed up at his confession.

“Thank you,” you said softly, diverting your gaze to the waves. “I can understand why you’re so fond of this place. It’s blissful, feels like heaven.”

He humms, fixing his gaze on the crashing waves above you.

“Y/N.” He was surveying your face now, as if trying to read you. Expectant.

“Yes?”

“Do you believe in heaven?” His voice is a whisper and, for a moment, you wonder if you’d heard him correctly.

That was probably the last question you’d expected from him, it took you completely by surprise. You inhaled deeply, searching for the right words, but ended up blurting what first came to mind.

“For all I know, heaven is here. Hell, too. I want to be better, yes, for the people I love. I want to be better for whoever needs me to be, because I know how tough this can get. If there’s an afterlife… at least I’ll know that I tried to be good for the right reasons. So yeah, let’s say I don’t dwell on it. Whatever happens, happens.”

By the time you finished talking, there was something sparkling deep inside his onyx eyes that you couldn’t recognize.

“That’s sort of refreshing,” and there it was again. The sheepish gummy smile you adored so much, so utterly genuine and divine you thought you’d die.

“What about you?”

“Yes. Heaven, Hell, the whole ordeal. Except for God.”

“But… How would it be possible for all those things to exist without God?”

“That is not what I said,” he let out a humorless little chuckle. “Let it suffice that God is… I believe, much too real. Just not how humankind paint him to be. I believe God exists; I just don’t believe in him. Not anymore.” His tone was raw and melancholic. You ached with the need to console him, because he seemed adrift; and that bothered you more than it should.

Without realizing, your face had gotten closer to his, and suddenly he was all over the place. All you could see, smell, hear, it was all him. He must have known, because then he traced your features lightly with his long, graceful fingers. You thought that was it. That was heaven.

You closed your eyes so you could savor every second of it, heartbeat going wild and butterflies assaulting your stomach. He lifted his other hand, and now he was cupping your face gingerly, like you were made of glass. Every touch ignited something foreign and glorious inside of you.

He shifted, moving closer, and his scent hit you, unyielding, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes. When his lips finally brushed against yours, it was enough to set something off, and your hands made their way to his neck on their own as you let out a shaky breath. You pressed yourself harder and sucked on his bottom lip, before caressing it with the tip of your tongue, earning a groan from him.

Well, shit.

He took the hair in the nape your neck in a dainty – yet firm – fistful, asking permission with his tongue to deepen the kiss. There was no denying him, you could never. His taste, God, you could spend eternity tasting every single bit of him. When he licked past your teeth, you moaned, and it was so utterly pleasing, sinful, that he felt compelled to go harder, mercilessly swirling his tongue inside your mouth. There was no room to breathe, the neediness for one another unbending.

You don’t know how much time you spent in that haze of mind-numbing desire, but neither of you dared to stop. Until your phone rang.

You jerked away, pupils blown wide from the intensity of the moment, skin flushed. You were both panting, eyes trained on each other, searching, scrutinizing, waiting for a reaction. His reddened, glistening lips were parted slightly and he seemed displeased to cut the moment short. Even so, he managed to talk.

“You should probably get that,” he gusted, trying to catch his breath. You couldn’t find it in yourself to do anything but nod.

You took the device out of your back pocket and checked the ID caller, brows furrowing. He mirrored your expression.

“Who is it?”

“It’s a girl from school. We have history class together. That’s… odd,” you said. You and Sarah have never had a real conversation, one that didn’t involve Napoleon or Julien Sorel. You just had her number saved because of a paper you had to do together a while ago. “Hello?”

“Y/N? Thank God,” she sounded truly relieved. “Look, I’m sorry to bother you but… We’re at the school’s gym and-“ she let out a loud gasp, and only then you noticed the noise in the background, an uproar of voices and… Did you did hear a punch?

“Sarah? What is it?”

“Tae’s here. Y/N, you should come…”

Your blood ran cold.

“What? Is he okay? Sarah, tell me what’s going on. Now,” you blurted, already standing, missing the way Yoongi’s face contorted in confusion and concern.

“We tried to stop them, we really did, I-“

“Sarah,” you grunted.

“Okay, yeah. Him and Ian are at each other’s throats right now, it’s pretty bad. Y/N, I don’t think it’ll be long before someone calls the cops. I just thought I’d let you know, ‘cause-“

“I’ll be there in a minute,” you cut her off, and then hang up.

You were a lot of things at that moment, but mostly worried and angry. You had told him not to, you had told him to let it go, and he went behind your back. You heart rate was through the roof, adrenaline rushing through your veins. But this time, it wasn’t out of passion.

“Y/N,” Yoongi had a wary look on his face. “Tell me.”

“Can you take me back? Tae’s in trouble.”

||\\

He hadn’t meant to. He really hadn’t meant to break his promise, but he knew it was bound to be broken the minute he made it. The idea of someone else touching you was torturous enough, but to think of them doing it without your consent actually drove him crazy with rage. Those unbidden images of you scared, asking that piece of shit to stop, only for him to hold you tighter, closer, wrapping his filthy hands around you… it wouldn’t stop coming to him, even though he’d tried his hardest to restrain them. It had haunted him ever since you told him. He felt sick. He hated himself for not being there for you, with you. Like the disgraceful best friend he was, he’d canceled movie night to get wasted. Ugly feelings, even the ones he didn’t care to admit, pierced their sharp claws at his chest. Guilt, exasperation, jealously.

He’d tried to suppress the bitterness from watching you with the new guy, he tried to be just glad that he was there and hold out against it, because if he wasn’t… The point is: he really tried. But the way you looked at him made Taehyung’s stomach sink. He’d never seen it before, and he craved it like a man in the desert did a single drop of water. He wanted to be on the receiving end of that gaze more than anything.

He’d go mad if he stayed inside, so he went out for a jog. Your mother had told him you weren’t home, and he figured you’d be at the coffee shop near school. What a big surprise it was when he found Ian next to a blue SUV that was parked near the gymnasium. He choked out a chuckle; it was just too tempting. Rage boiled trough his veins, and at that moment he knew he couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t not break that scumbag in half, even if that meant he’d be going against your wishes.

So he did. Every punch, given or taken, satisfied him little by little. Because he also deserved to be punished, he thought.

||\\

“What was that shit that you pulled? After I explicitly told you to stay out of it! Why now?”

Taehyung had a bloody nose, a deep cut just above his eyebrow and some pretty ugly purple spots all over his upper body, staining his previously pristine skin. When you and Yoongi had arrived at school, you discovered he’d been taken. By a police officer, nonetheless.

You’d been so mad. But now that he was in front of you, all screwed up in torn clothes, the speech you had prepared escaped your mind. You just couldn’t understand his impulsiveness, and the fact that he was in a tiny, smelly cell because of you was infuriating.

“We both knew it was bound to happen eventually, so I figured rather sooner than later,” he answered nonchalantly.

“Taehyung,” you said through gritted teeth

“What, Y/N?!” He snapped. “You wanted me to let him get away with it?”

“Yes! Yes, I literally told you that that’s what I wanted!”

“Well, too bad,” he darkly said. He knew he was in the wrong here. But he was just too riled up to think straight.

“Okay,” you said, taking a sharp intake of breath while running your fingers through your hair, “Okay, let’s be practical about this. Your dad is coming, right? We can talk about it at home.”

“Fine,” he said, avoiding your eyes.

“Fine,” you, too, knew how to be petty. “I’ve got to go outside for a minute. Behave,” your gaze flashed to an officer for a second, but quickly made its way back to Taehyung. When you realized he wouldn’t give you an answer, you just sighed and carried yourself out the door.

As soon as you stepped out of the threshold, you saw Yoongi leaning on his motorcycle, arms crossed and head hanging from his shoulders. You didn’t know what tonight had meant. You wanted to at least try to figure out if he felt the same as you did, but you had bigger problems. And to be honest, you’d rather sleep on it. It was all too intense and hazy.

“Hey,” you said, walking slowly towards him. He lifted his head and offered a tiny smile.

“Your boyfriend really hates my guts, doesn’t he?”

“He’s not-“ you cut yourself off when you realized he was just messing with you again. Of course he is, he stuck his tongue down your throat just an hour ago. “Anyways. I guess Tae will be out in a couple of hours, but I have to stay here and wait for Mr. Kim. Thank you for… tonight.”

He nodded. “No problem, George. I’ll call y-“

Suddenly, his eyebrows knitted together and his whole body tensed as he straightened himself. If you ever told anyone about this, you’d probably be admitted in a mental facility. But you swore that, for an instant, his eyes changed colors, going from pitch black to a deep violet. It happened in a heartbeat, and then he wasn’t looking at you anymore, but at something past your shoulder. You felt a chill run down your spine as you turned around to see what caught his attention.

A tall, broad-shouldered man was walking towards you. As his lean figure got closer, the tension grew almost palpable, and you could see from afar he had a small smile plastered on his plump lips. But it wasn’t comforting at all. Instead, it was vile, almost sadistic. Your head snapped to Yoongi again, and you saw how he didn’t move a muscle, fists closed tight and jaw clenched. That made you panic a little.

“Yoongi, what-“

“Y/N, go inside,” his voice was hoarse and restrained, like he hadn’t talked in weeks.

No, you wanted to say. That man, whoever he was, screamed bad news. He walked like a predator, and you felt like his prey. Though your self-preservation instincts were going wild with every step he took, something stronger made you want to stay. You knew he wasn’t here for you, but for him. And that sparked a need to protect him that you didn’t know to exist, nor where it came from. However, you just kept quiet and waited for the man to catch up, not missing the murderous aura emitted from Yoongi.

At last, he stood in front of you, reddish hair and twisted smirk still on his face. You could see him clearly now, and he was beautiful. The kind of beauty you’ve only seen once.

“Has anyone actually pressed charges this time, little brother?” His voice was deceivingly soft.

Brother?

“How did you find me?” Yoongi asked with an icy voice that almost made you shudder.

“Is that how you greet your elders? Father would not be pleased.”

“Well, you’re one to talk, aren’t you?”

“People are still hung up on that, I see,” the man chuckled. “Yoongi-ah,” he said, his feet taking him closer at a slower pace. Yoongi kept his ground, knuckles white from his balled-up fists, while you instinctively took a step back. That’s when they both seemed to acknowledge your presence. Yoongi’s eyes bulged slightly, his pale skin becoming ever paler, while the other wore an unreadable expression on his face.

“I told you to go inside,” he almost growled, taking your wrist in an iron grip and pulling you to stand behind his back. You didn’t understand. You didn’t understand any of it. Why did he seem so threatened by his own blood? The man was scary, sure, but was he actually dangerous? Your head was spinning, so you held onto his jacket to keep yourself vertical.

“Were you not planning on introducing me to your friend, baby brother? That’s just rude, you know how much I love meeting new people.”

“I’d advise you to be careful now, Jin.” The threat in Yoongi’s low voice was noticeable even to you, but Jin didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he relished on it. His little brother didn’t get all protective over just anyone, and the fact that he didn’t want the eldest to know about you pointed straight to a weak spot. One which he intended to take full advantage of.

“Easy, Prince, no need to get riled up,” Jin chuckled again, lifting both hands in a sign of peace. “What do you take me for?”

“Neither of us can deny your nature, can we, brother? It’s the reason why we’re here in the first place.”

“It’s true. Have you told her your name yet? Since you appear very comfortable sharing such details in front of her.”

“What are you doing here? I thought I had made myself clear the last time we saw each other,” Yoongi changed the subject, hoping you wouldn’t pay much attention to his question.

Jin’s face turned serious for the first time before he spoke. “They approached me, Yoongi-ah. It would seem that they need their Flam-“

“Quit it!” Yonngi growled. “Hold your tongue, I don’t want to hear any of it. You need to go.”

“Not until I have delivered my message.” The well-proportioned man stood his ground.

Yoongi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He could not have this kind of conversation in front of you – in front of anyone, for that matter. Jin was breaking the rules; an old habit of his. “Then I need you to wait for me at home. I suppose you already know where I live, don’t you? I’ll meet you there soon.”

“Alright then. Y/N, it was splendid meeting you. I do hope I get to see you again soon.”

Yoongi scowled as he watched Jin turn on his heels and disappear in the night. For all he knew, Jin would never get this close to you ever again. He was caught off guard today. He then turned around, black orbs scrutinizing you for a reaction.

There were many things going through your mind at that exact moment. Too many questions, he could tell. You looked at him in a grimace of confusion and horror.

“How did he know my name?” That was the first thing that popped into your mind. You hadn’t said your name, neither did Yoongi. “And who’s ‘they’? And did he really just call you prince? Is that a pet name or something?” You blurted out, sensing you wouldn’t have too much time to elaborate the questions the way you wanted to.

He looked into your eyes, face contorted in what you could only describe as a desperate hesitation, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a fine line. He was pondering his options. You knew that because, when he made up his mind, you could clearly see the taint of resolution.

“I can’t answer your questions,” he muttered.

“Why not?”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. Please, just forget about this. All of it.”

“What are you talking about?” you were on the brink of losing it at this point. First Taehyung, and now this. He wasn’t making any sense. But his eyes spoke to you in ways he couldn’t. Only then, you understood. “No,” you said with a resolution of your own. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Listen, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me right away, whatever it is, just don-“

“Y/N.”

“Yes?!”

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Listen to me just this once,” he groaned, stepping into your personal space. He twisted your hair in one hand, holding your face securely to his. When he rested his forehead on yours, your eyes gave into his wishes, closing on their own. “I’ll be gone for a little while, George,” your breath hitched, but you didn’t interrupt him. He gave you a light peck on the mouth, lips soft and moist, breath hot on your face. “I have to settle some things straight. Be good for me while I’m gone, yeah? Don’t do anything stupid,” he frowned.

“Will you come back?” your voice almost cracked, ‘cause you weren’t so sure of his answer. You felt foolish. You’ve only known him for a short period of time, after all. But the intensity of your feelings, though you couldn’t discern them clearly yet, scared you.

This felt horribly like goodbye – it was, at least for now – and you hated it.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” you answered straight away.

“Alright,” he nodded. “Then I will.”

You didn’t dare open your eyes when he stepped away from you after one last chaste peck on your lips, nor when you heard him start the engine of his Triumph. But when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, you jolted slightly and your eyes fluttered open.

“Let’s get you inside, kid” Mr. Kim said softly, brushing away a lonesome tear from your cheek. “Then you can help me scold my boy for making us come all the way to the police station on a school day, how does that sound?” he tried to uplift your spirit, and you offered him a half-hearted smile.

||\\

“Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell;

And in the lowest deep a lower deep

Still threatening to devour me opens wide,

To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.

Oh then at last relent: is there no place

Left for repentance, none for pardon left?”

It’d been four weeks since the last time you saw him. A whole month since he’d disappeared completely. At first, you waited anxiously for him to reappear out of nowhere. For him to just slide into the classroom, like he’d done the first time. But as time passed by and the third week came, you grew worried. He didn’t get specific about how much time it would take for him to do whatever it was, but you imagined it would be one, maybe two weeks. But now, a month later, you were beginning to wonder if he’d even come back at all. If something had happened, if he was okay…

No. He promised.

You’d rather not dwell on the possibility of something going wrong – hell, you didn’t even know what he was doing or what was that strange conversation he had with his deviant brother in front of the police station. You had a few theories, though. Not that you’d ever utter them out loud.

Number one: mafia. Maybe not The Godfather sort of thing, since that seemed pretty outdated, but rather… Scarface, perhaps? So you had come up with the idea of Jin being a druglord; nothing more, nothing less. It made sense, to be honest.

Number two: well, number two wasn’t exactly clear on your mind, but had something to do with super rich parents and an insane heritage. He could be the prince of an empire, right? You didn’t know anything about his family, except that his brother was blood-curdling.

You just wished to keep your head in the right place until he explained the situation to you. If he explained, that is. Sighing, you tried to contain your derailed thoughts and get back to the real world, where Taehyung needed you to pay attention to Mamma Mia! for the nth time.

“Alright, that’s it. You didn’t even sing along during S.O.S and that’s where I draw the line,” he said, taking the remote from your hand and pausing the movie. It was a cozy night and you were both plopped on the couch wearing socks and sweatpants.

“When have I ever sang along during S.O.S, Tae?”

“I remember it vividly, we were eleven. But that’s not the point,” he retorted. You bit your lip and kept your eyes trained on the frozen screen of the TV, already sensing where this was going. “You’ve been like this for a while now.”

“Like what?” you pushed, trying to feign innocence. You were not in the mood for this right now. You just wanted to stare unseeingly at the TV and have some private time with your own thoughts until the movie was over.

He sighed. “Look, I can only guess what’s going on,” he scowled, but tried to compose his features into a serene mask before speaking again. “But I need you to not be in your own head for a minute.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I want to help,” he said, taking your hand in his. The touch was warm and familiar.

“I know, Marzipan,” another sigh. You took your hand from his carefully and got up. “I’m going to the store, you want something?”

“What, now? Y/N-“

“I just-, I need coffee and snacks if we’re pulling this off. If you want me to keep my eyes opened during Moulin Rouge, that is,” you pointed out matter-of-factly

Taehyung shifted in his seat, face contorted in confusion, wariness and a hint of hurt. “Do you want me to go with you? It’s late.”

“No, it’s fine. You can stay and plan ahead, I’m sure we’re not stopping at the next one.”

He watched you silently while you fumbled for your keys. When you found them, he muttered: “Don’t be too long.”

“I won’t.”

As soon as you crossed the threshold, the cold air of the night hit your skin, making you shiver slightly. You closed the door and hid your hands in the pockets of your sweater, bringing it closer to your body in a poor attempt to keep the warmth from escaping.

Walking towards the convenience store located a couple of blocks from your house, you let yourself get lost in headspace again. You knew you weren’t being fair to Taehyung. As much as you wanted to talk about this situation with him, you couldn’t. It felt like betraying someone who hadn’t even put their trust in you to begin with. Yes, it was unfair, and maybe you were being a shitty friend every time he tried to have a serious conversation about the subject and you brushed him off with an excuse, like getting coffee in the middle of the night.

You sighed, not really willing to wallow in guilt tonight, and just tried to focus on your immediate task. One step after the other, then one more, and you could already see the lights of a tiny single shop, the only one opened this late at night. It belonged to Mr. Newton, a sweet old baker who treated you kindly every time he was filling up for his cashier.

You entered the store and heard the little bell announce your arrival. Much to your surprise, Mr. Newton was working there that night. As he saw your expression of detachment, he frowned. So you tried to arrange your features in a polite smile before speaking.

“Hello, Mr. Newton.”

“Y/N, child, why are you wandering alone when it’s already this late?” he asked softly, though clearly concerned for your safety.

“Don’t worry, sir,” you answered, walking towards the cooler where they kept the iced coffee and taking two in one hand, as you went for the chips next. “Tae and I needed a little snack. Movie night.”

He nodded and you placed the items on the counter for him to scan.

“Well, then. Tell that kid to come by whenever he can. My wife wants to send some essential oils for Mr. Kim’s aromatherapy sessions,” just as he’d said it, he got a bit closer to you, as if the next words to come out of his mouth were a secret. “Truth is, she misses him. The boy is the only one who can stand her cooking.”

Despite being moody, you chuckled wholeheartedly. No one could be indifferent to Taehyung’s charms, it seemed.

“Yes, sir, I’ll tell him.”

As you went through your wallet to pay the old man, you heard the little bell once again. Mr. Newton greeted the new client, but you were too engrossed in finding the right bills to snap your head in the newcomer’s direction. However, the inquisitive sound that left the old man caused you to steal a glimpse, catching auburn hair and broad shoulders in their wake. You stood still for a moment, trying to recall why those locks seemed so familiar. Until it hit you.

“Jin?” you breathed, not loud enough for anyone in the store to actually hear you. Just as you muttered his name, he closed the door and turned left, disappearing from your sight. You gasped. “Keep the change, Mr. Newton!” you said – audibly, this time – leaving a ten dollar bill on the counter and grabbing your stuff as gracefully as you could muster, rushing to the door like your life depended on it.

“No running in the store, kid!” he tried to scold you, but could already feel the cool breeze as you opened the door and looked around, expecting to find his brother. Only this time around you weren’t scared, no. You wanted answers, heart beating fast at the possibility of hearing from Yoongi, maybe even seeing him… Okay, no, not the time for this, first things first.

When you realized he was nowhere to be found, you ran. Left. He went left. You passed by a few houses and almost tripped on a stray cat, turning your head to the side to check on it and apologizing profusely as you picked up your pace again. A few blocks later, you were already out of breath. You came to a halt and put both hands on your knees, gasping and feeling your lungs burn.

Trying to ease your labored breathing, you realized that you were probably going crazy. A halfhearted chuckle escaped your parted lips. You were disappointed, even if actually meeting the redhead meant trouble. Trying not to let frustration and melancholy get the best of you, you decided to just let it go and head back home. Even if it was Jin, he probably wouldn’t tell you anything anyway.

||\\

The snow under your feet was slippery as you got out of the library, leather backpack and navy-blue beanie on. You held a large cappuccino on one hand, careful not to spill it as you dodged passers-by and umbrellas every now and then. The streets were a little crowded that afternoon, and you were dying to get home and relish on Mrs. D’Angelis’ famous chicken noodle soup. Maybe she’d even grant you a warm glass of wine if you asked properly. You tried to occupy your mind with ordinary, day-to-day thoughts, trying to ignore the flutter on the pit pf your stomach.

During that entire week, you were constantly under the impression that something was off. When you were going to school with Taehyung, or grocery shopping for your mother, there was always that tingling feeling on the nape of your neck that told you that someone was watching. Then you’d turn around and nothing. No one was ever there. The uneasiness was uncomfortable, but you didn’t feel endangered, just really jittery. And your motto was: no better medicine for anxiety than tons of caffeine.

“Mom, I’m home!” you crooned, taking your coat off and discarding the empty thermal cup.

“In the kitchen, honey!”

The smell was splendid. You took a deep breath, already yearning for the hot meal, and kissed your mother on the cheek while she stirred… something.

“Uh, smells nice,” you praised, making your way to the fridge for a glass of water. “I’m shocked Tae hasn’t come knocking on our door yet. Maybe his flair is broken because of the flu.”

“Is Taehyungie sick, honey? Why didn’t you tell me?” she almost whined.

“It’s nothing, just a bit of phlegm. But I’ll take some of these,” you pointed to the pots, “for him and his dad later.”

“You really should. Now go upstairs and change before dinner.”

You mumbled a response and climbed the stairs to put on some good old band t-shirt and sweatpants. You didn’t notice the broad-shouldered frame behind the door, and as soon as you closed it behind you, you felt a cold hand covering your mouth, while the other held you in place by the waist. Your whole body tensed, eyes bulged and breath hitched. Fuck. You were prepared to let out a loud scream, but his whispered voice stopped you.

“It’s me, it’s me,” he shushed you. As a reflex, your muscles relaxed. “Gonna take my hand off your mouth now, George,” he informed, slowly moving his hand from your face.

Of course it was him. His smell was all over the place, his touch still left little electric jolts on your skin. You snapped your head and turned around to face him. You realized your memories could never do him justice. He was so heartbreakingly handsome, you could cry. Pale skin, shiny disheveled raven hair. You noticed the circles under his eyes were darker and he seemed exhausted. Regardless, when your eyes fell on his lips, your body reacted before your mind could.

Your hands made their way to the nape of his neck, caressing and gently pulling his hair. At the same time, you clasped your lips together on a desperate kiss. His surprise didn’t stop him from matching your frenzy, grunting as he sucked your upper lip and asked permission with his tongue, one that you promptly granted. Henceforth, your tongues performed an erotic, lewd dance as they fought for dominance, swirling and exploring each other’s mouths.

Only when the back of your knees touched the bed did you realize he was moving you towards it. He broke the kiss for a moment to mercilessly throw you on the soft duvet, and you let out a surprised moan when he immediately covered your body with his, mouth returning to yours. A primal need surged from within you when you felt one of his hands roaming at your side lustfully, gabbing tight on your ribcage, your waist, your hip. He hoisted your leg and you hooked it around him, holding back a loud moan when he pressed his erection to your groin. You could feel your panties drenching from the sudden contact, a new wave of desire making your core ache.

“Y/N-“ he tried to speak through heavy breathing, his lips never leaving yours long enough for him to finish a sentence. “Baby,” he groaned, obviously trying to say something, but you weren’t ready yet. You rocked your hips against him, earning another lecherous noise from his rosy lips as he closed his eyes shut.

You used that moment of weakness to knock him to his side, climbing on top of him as you clamped your thighs harder on his hips. His eyes went dark at the sight, a devilish smirk tainting his beautiful features. You didn’t give him time to say anything, taking his lips on another bruising kiss. His hands on your ass, squeezing and groping, and you felt him throb inside his pants. You moaned, a gush of wetness coming out as you clenched around nothing. You couldn’t form coherent thoughts anymore, pressing yourself harder against his bulge as you rolled your hips, searching blindly and desperately for a sweet release that was already so close…

“Hold it, baby.” His voice was stern, and he pinned both your wrists on your back, his hands seeming incredibly big when closed around them. He was sitting now, hot, labored breath hitting your lips, heightening your senses and sending shivers down your spine. You crumbled under his dominant demeanor, feeling an inconceivable need to obey, and instantly stood still. It surprised him as much as it did you, and you saw a smug grin plaster itself on his face. “That’s it. Be good for me so I don’t lose my mind.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know to be holding and weakly nodded, mind still clouded with want. He let go of your wrists and gently pecked your lips, sitting you down on the bed instead of his lap. Father knows he would be physically uncapable of having a proper train of thought if he didn’t.

“So… I guess we have a lot to discuss first, don’t we?” his smile was sheepish now, hands going through his hair in a nervous tick.

“Yes,” you breathed out. “What happened? I was so worried, Yoongi, you have no idea. I didn’t even know where you were or what the hell you were up to, I-“ you took a moment in order to stabilize your voice. You knew you were affected by his sudden absence, you just didn’t know how much until now that he was actually in front of you. “I don’t even know what the worst case scenario could be, but I bet my thoughts came pretty close,” you chuckled humorlessly.

“I’m sorry, I never meant to worry you. If I knew I’d be gone for that long, I would’ve told you before I left. I missed you so much,” he confessed, voice lower than before, and rested his forehead on your own.

“Tell me. Please, I need to know,” your brows furrowed.

“I met my brothers,” he paused, waiting for a reaction that never came. It’s not that you were not surprised by the information that he had other siblings, you just wanted him to finish it before you spoke. “Jin aside, I spent… years apart from my family. You could say that we didn’t leave things on the best of terms when I left father’s, so it was a surprise for me when I learned that they wanted to talk. Notwithstanding that it’s out of need, not love.” His heavenly features contorted in hurt and resentment, and you felt you own heart clench. You gave him an eskimo kiss as a sign of reassurance and he smiled timidly. “They offered to take me back. It’s… certainly a grand gesture for the likes of us,” he shook his head slightly and knitted his brows.

“Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you miss them?” you didn’t know why your voice was so small.

“Not anymore, no.” His gaze was intense and made your heart beat impossibly faster. “I do miss them. They used to be my whole existence, the reason for every breath of mine. But now… now everything’s changed.”

“What’s changed?”

“You.”

Your breath hitched. If it was anyone else, if it was any other situation, you’d laugh at the cheesy line. But this was him, and that, too, changed everything. That one word was enough to unleash butterflies in your stomach, enough of them to knock you breathless. The truth behind his statement carried a heavy meaning, one that you yearned for and that made you giddy. His onyx orbs were wary, and you wondered if he was blind to the utter relief plastered on your face. It was selfish, but you couldn’t help it. Not when it came to him.

“H-How come?”

He chuckled. “Don’t get bashful on me now, George, I’m pretty sure you understand.”

You tried to scowl, but the grin was insistent on your lips. “Alright, let’s put a pin on that. You still haven’t told me everything. What did your brothers want?”

“Y/N, there are certain things about me and my family that I cannot tell you. It wouldn’t be safe.”

“You don’t trust me?” you were mainly curious, but a hint of hurt could be heard, too.

“That’s not it. It just wouldn’t be safe for you.”

“Is your family involved in something… illegal? Is that why?”

“Not illegal, no,” he chuckled.

“Then I don’t understand.”

“I know. But please, George, don’t be stubborn about this one. All I’m asking for is a leap of faith,” his eyes were pleading as they bore into yours. Was he aware that he could probably convince you that the sky was neon green if he looked at you like that?

“It’s a big leap,” you mumbled.

“I know. Just trust that I have good reasons,” he smiled softly.

You sighed. “Fine, Romeo, keep your secrets. Just tell me if you get too deep into whatever it is that the Min’s are hiding. I care about your safety just as much as you care about mine.” You forced the heat back, secretly hoping that it did not reach your face in time for you to actually blush.

“Doubt it,” he grinned. “Dinner is ready, Mrs. D’Angelis will be coming for you soon. I should get going.”

Your face paled as you rushed to the wardrobe, retrieving some clean clothes from your drawer. “Wait,” you stopped on your tracks in the middle of the room, glaring at Yoongi through narrowed eyes. “How do you know that?”

“I have my ways,” he shrugged, then tugged his lips upwards on a daring smirk. “It’s a secret.”

“If you keep giving me clues I might just figure it out. Go on.”

He chuckled and stood up from the bed, walking languidly in your direction. He touched your nose with the tip of his index finger, tracing it’s way all up to your forehead, then coming down to your jaw, where he grabbed firmly. His lips were smooth and slightly damped as they softly touched yours in a chaste kiss. A ragged sigh of pure bliss escaped you, and you tried to fight the haziness.

“Bye, George,” he was still lingering when he spoke. As he broke the contact and turned to the window, you woke up from the trance.

“Stay,” you breathed out. He looked at you with a hint of confusion. “I-I mean, you can stay if you want. I can bring you some of mom’s soup and we can eat it here. But you don’t have to, if you’re bus-“

“Okay,” he deadpanned.

“Okay. Yeah, uhm… I’ll go change in the bathroom, you can make yourself comfortable.”

“Already am,” he said as he threw himself on the bed, bouncing a little. His countenance was amused and he eyed you intently, toying with the elephant plushie.

“Of course you are,” you snorted, carrying yourself to the bathroom.

That night, you both relished on your mother’s cooking while watching some old movie about Cole Porter on your laptop. You were sure that it wasn’t his cup of tea, but he payed attention to it nonetheless. After you were done, you offered to take the dishes downstairs, since your mother would probably have a stroke if she knew there was a boy in your room. You stopped by Taehyung’s to check on him and offer his favorite hot meal, but it didn’t take more than five minutes. You were on a hurry, and he knew better than to question it.

Back upstairs, you and Yoongi curled up under the covers and tried to find something interesting enough to watch for what seemed to be ages, your head resting on his chest and his hands holding you securely by the waist. It wasn’t long until you fell asleep, and only then did he leave, pecking your forehead gently before jumping out the window.

||\\

“Get in.”

“No,” you tried to end the discussion then and there. As expected, you failed.

“Y/N, you can’t go back on pinky promise. You should’ve thought this through.” His goal was to sound stern, but in reality you could see the hint of a pout on his lips. “It’s my birthday.” Okay, there it was. That was definitely a pout.

“No,” you closed your eyes shut and facepalmed – for good measure. “Don’t give me those eyes, I’m not looking,” the sound was muffled by your hands.

He wrapped his incredibly large fingers around your wrists and whined: “Come on, we’re already here. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Why on earth would you say that?” you instantly took your hands from your face and shot him a glare. He had the nerve to chuckle.

“You can’t possibly expect me to do this alone.”

“You can’t possibly expect me to do this at all,” you retorted, kicking the snow piled up near the curb, shunning away from his puppy dog eyes.

“You promised you would! I’ll do it, Marzipan. If you win this round, I’ll get a tattoo with you as a birthday present,” his voice was high pitched.

You snorted. “I was out of it, mental faculties completely fried. Drunk on power and merlot. Plus, I’m pretty sure you cheated, you could never beat me at Mario Kart,” you grumbled.

“I did not cheat,” he was outraged. “I’m a lawful man, I abide by the rules, and they are clear: a bet is a bet.”

You honestly have no idea why you let him talk you into this. Perhaps because you’ve been feeling guilty lately, and therefore didn’t have the heart to turn him down when he broke into your room to collect his victory this morning. It’s a good present, right? To get tattoos with your best friend? He had been trying to convince you since three birthdays ago. You hoped it would be enough to ease a bit of the weight on your chest.

Truth is, you had been spending too much time with Yoongi these past few weeks. After what happened when he showed his face again, it became routine that he came by almost every night when your mom fell asleep. You’d talk, watch movies, kiss… But what you enjoyed the most were those moments where you curled up in his embrace, face buried in the crook of his neck, and neither of you would say a word. You’ve always appreciated peaceful silence, but those moments were so much more. You felt truly connected to him, in a way you’d never felt with anyone else. Like you were both pieces of the same puzzle, cheesy lines aside.

Or when he would be the one to rest his head on your chest, blinking lazily as you twisted his silky, raven locks in your fingers. Perhaps those were truly your favorites, as you felt the incontrollable urge – need – to be protective of him, to never let anything disturb his serene, almost childlike countenance, so bare before you in the night’s veil. Before the sun came up and brought back the little wrinkle between his eyebrows.

During the day, you often returned to his safe haven – one that ultimately became yours, too. The waves breaking against the rocks, the salty breeze, the deep blue of the ocean, you had gotten acquainted to it all in a heartbeat. On occasion, you’d bring warm, fuzzy blankets, hot cocoa and books, spending an entire afternoon on your own personal eden.

You never meant for any of it to get in the way of your friendship with Taehyung, but counterbalancing proved to be harder than you first thought. Although you may have gotten too caught up, inevitably distancing yourself a bit, you were now eager to make it up to him. He was like family, after all. So here you were.

“Fine, have it your way. But I’m telling mom that you put me up to this,” you threatened. The snow under your boots making a crunchy noise while you crossed the street to get to the tattoo parlor.

“She won’t believe you. I’m a saint. I’m her Taehyungie.” He was beaming.

As soon as you got in, you saw a man sitting behind the counter. He was buff, and you’d bet that pretty much his whole body was covered in piercings and tattoos – mostly about dragons and snakes. Looks aside, his voice was warm and welcoming when he greeted you.

“Welcome, kids. My name is Eli, how may I help you today?”

All the drawings and pictures on the walls seemed to have detained Taehyung’s attention, so you plastered a polite smile on your face before answering.

“Hi. My friend over here came to get a tattoo,” you pointed at the boy beside you and he scowled.

“We both did,” he smiled at the receptionist.

“Alright. You have to sign a couple of forms before we get into details. You’re both legal, right?” the receptionist asked and you nodded. “Peach. Just a second,” he turned his attention to the computer in front of him, taking a couple of papers from the printer soon after. He handled you each a consent form. Before you signed yours, you exchanged a look with Taehyung, almost having a whole conversation – bickering – with him through knowing looks.

“Here you go,” Taehyung handed the papers to Eli.

“Cool. Do you guys have something in mind? We have a few drafts you can check out. But if you already know what you want, Hyunjin can draw it when you get inside. Don’t worry, he’s good.”

“I have something in mind,” Taehyung offered a bright boxy smile. “I guess I’ll just explain it to him, then.”

“Great,” Eli turned his eyes to you, realizing that you definitely had not made up your mind just yet. “If that’s the case, I’ll let him know that you’re going in,” he said to Taehyung, who nodded in response. When the buffy man went to the back, he glared at you through narrowed eyes.

“I’ll come back with permanent ink on my skin. You better not chicken out by the time I’m done,” he threatened.

“Hope you don’t regret it within the year,” you taunted.

“I won’t,” he snorted.

Eli returned a second later, excusing himself to lead Taehyung to the tattoo artist. In the meantime, you picked a binder that was resting on top of the counter to take a look at the drawings he’d mentioned, hoping to find something you’d actually like – or at least an inspiration. Most of them were very intricate, and although they were beautiful, you wanted something simple. Less is more when you’re tainting your skin for life because of a bet.

You were turning the pages with such disinterest that you almost missed it. It seemed unfinished, just a sketch, and you couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason as to why it caught your attention in the first place. It was a dragon intertwined in a circle, it’s countenance exuding fierceness and strength. Inside the circle, however, was just an unembellished arrangement of lines, one that was strangely familiar and alluring. 9-7-1-12-6, if you think about a clock.

“Oh, I see you’ve found Lee’s work. What do you think?” Eli pulled you out of your headspace.

“Uhm… Yeah, he’s great. His drawings are pretty authentic.”

“Uh huh, he’s been working on those for a while now. So, do you have any idea what you’re gonna get yet?”

“Not really. I mean, I liked this one,” you pointed to the page you were previously analyzing. “Do you know if it means anything in particular?”

“Yes! Actually, it does, but I can’t really remember what. I think it’s a sigil, though. You know, one of those thingies people believe to be magical.”

“Mhm.” You really didn’t know why you felt the need to purge those next words, but you were saying them before you could stop yourself. “This is it.”

“What? You’re gonna tattoo that?” Without even knowing what it means?

“Yes. I liked the dragon.”

||\\

His lips were soft against your collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps on their wake when he moved them lazily to your jawline, wet little kisses making you squirm and sigh. His index finger was tracing patterns on your bare thigh, caressing and examining as if he’d never done it before, as if you were a made of glass. The sun had graced you with its appearance for the first time in weeks, and you wanted to enjoy the good weather as much as possible, so you had convinced Yoongi to lay on the grass by your side.

“Tired of Miss Brontë already, love?” his velvety voice evinced his amusement.

“Can’t read. You’re distracting me.”

He chuckled lightly, delivering small puffs of air on the crook of your neck, and raised his head just enough to look at you, blocking the sunlight and making it possible for you open your eyes. Before he’d made his mission to disturb your concentration, you were reading for him, like people do with kids before they go to bed. It became a thing after the first time you did it, and now he picked a different book every week or so. When you’d asked about it, he just shrugged and declared that ‘It’s just nice. I like hearing you.’ This week, it was Wuthering Heights.

“Continue, please,” he adjured, laying his head on your chest as a demonstration of good will. You grabbed the book you’d previously set aside and opened it, leaving one hand free to play with his locks.

“That, however, which you may suppose the most potent to arrest my imagination, is actually the least, for what is not connected with her to me? and what does not recall her? I cannot look down to this floor, but her features are shaped on the flags. In every cloud, in every tree—filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object by day, I am surrounded with her image. The most ordinary faces of men and women—my own features—mock me with a resemblance. The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.”

His eyes were no longer closed, he was gazing at you.

“Do you pity him?” he suddenly asked.

“Heathcliff? I don’t.”

He nodded slowly. “So, you think there’s no redemption, then?”

“Not for him. He lived and died as an antagonist. Some might think his cruelty is just an expression of his frustrated love for Catherine, or that he conceals at least some virtue, a romantic heart. They expect him to be anything but what he constantly proves to be, they expect misunderstood heroes. But he himself acknowledges his sadistic nature.”

He stood still, seeming to be lost in thoughts while tracing invisible patterns on your shoulder and refusing to meet your eyes.

“Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?” he asked wistfully.

You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

“I’ve never had to,” you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you. “Hey,” you dig your nails gently on the nape of his neck, asking for his attention. When he raised his head, the wrinkle between his eyebrows was there again. It worried you that, since he’s been back, it’s been a constant feature of his. Every now and then, his face twisted into an inscrutable grimace. “You understand, don’t you?”

A half-hearted nod was your response, and he built up the mask to conceal his discomfort once again.

“Enough vitamin D for you? I can’t stand the heat,” he grumbled.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, pressing your lips to his forehead and standing up, stretching a helping hand. “Where do you want to go?”

“My place.”

Which was code for: Your mom is home and I want to pass out on my bed nuzzling you.

“Whatever you want, grandpa.”

“Be a brat and I’ll hit the throttle,” he threatened, positioning himself on top of his Triumph. Sometimes he took full advantage of just how dreadful you found his two-wheeled vehicle. And it always worked. You snorted, climbing on the back seat and wrapping your arms around him. “Hold tight, George.” His warning was delivered with amusement, but you knew better than to take it lightly.

The fifteen-minute trip went as smoothly as it could, and even though you’d made sure to keep your eyes closed, you still felt dizzy and light-headed when he parked into the old building’s garage. He sensed your distress and got off the motorcycle slowly, careful when untangling you’re your arms from his waist and never completely breaking physical contact.

“Open your eyes,” he murmured, one hand on the small of your back and the other placed on your hip. You took a deep breath and your eyelids tentatively fluttered. His lips brushed your right cheek as he effortlessly lifted you and put you down on the floor, covering the entirety of your hand with his and making a beeline for the elevator.

Yoongi’s apartment was on the fourth floor, which happened to be the last one – the building was a small, fading-yellow rectangle in the middle of a quiet neighborhood. In a way, it suited him. Secluded and discreet. Perfect for a misanthrope such as himself, given that you’d never even bumped into one of his neighbors – and you’d been visiting quite regularly. On another note, however, it was uncannily unpretentious for someone like him.

He stopped for a moment on the front door, fumbling for the keys in his pocket. As soon as he opened it, you made your way to the couch, crashing with a sigh, face buried in the cushion. A minute had passed before he plopped on top of you, compelling a puff of air out of your lungs. You grumbled something about manslaughter, but the sound was muffled. He ignored you, making himself comfortable by nuzzling your neck and taking off his shoes using only his feet. You chuckled, making an effort to turn on your back so you could catch a breath.

“Sleepy?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair. He hummed a response, content with your ministrations. “I, uh… have something to show you.”

He raised his head from your throat, eyeing you curiously. “What is it?”

“Bedroom,” you commanded.

“Oh, I see,” he taunted, but stood up nonetheless. You rolled your eyes.

You guided him to his room and closed the door behind you. He leisurely sat on the bed, waiting cautiously for you to proceed. You sucked in a deep breath, growing doubtful under his gaze. Pushing all insecurities aside, you unzipped your shorts.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” he warned in a low-pitched, deep voice, orbs darkening considerably. You dismissed it, tiptoeing closer to him. He straightened his back and raised his eyes to meet yours, searching for any indication of what you intended to do. You pushed the waistband down, letting the piece of clothing pool on the floor, but he didn’t flinch, attention still focused on your features. When you hooked one finger on the hem of your white panties, he quickly snatched your wrist on a tight grip, brows knitting together. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, baby. You know that, right?”

Your chest swelled with warmth and affection. After the night he came back, things heated up a couple of times. Once he’d realized how tense and anxious you got at first, he began to hold back, withstanding your advances. You never verbalized anything, but he had a hunch, and pressuring you was definitely not on his to-do list. He was being respectful and caring, and although you shouldn’t accept nothing less, it made you feel safe. He made you feel safe, always.

“Let me show you,” you murmured, a soft smile blooming on your face. He seemed puzzled, but ended up nodding warily. When you moved your finger, slightly pushing the fabric down to expose your hip, he finally had the guts to jeopardize his restraint and look down. You didn’t know what you expected his reaction to be, but that certainly wasn’t it.

His breath hitched and he paled, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. He didn’t move a single muscle, whole body tensing up. It was as if he couldn’t fully comprehend the sight before him, like he couldn’t believe. He composed himself soon enough, but you could still see the glint of shock in his eyes. It didn’t make any sense.

“When did you get that?” his voice came out flat and a few octaves lower than usual.

“A couple of weeks ago,” you frowned. The tattoo that marked your hip was now almost fully healed. You were doubtful in the beginning, but now you kind of grew fond of it. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you know…” he cleared his throat, fingers twitching. “Do you know what it means?”

“Not exactly,” you confessed sheepishly. “The tattoo artist said it was a religious symbol and… Truth be told, I’m not even sure why I did this. Just felt right,” you mumbled, realizing then that you probably sounded a tad out of it. You held your lip between your teeth, unsettled.

“Yes. It’s the sigil of one of the seven archangels, love. It’s… Michael’s… sigil,” his jaw clenched, but his tone was now softer. “It’s used to invoke strength and protection. The ancients believed that, if you will it enough, he will be able to hear your prayers and, perhaps, be of assistance,” he laid his hand flat on your skin, stroking the symbol with his thumb, oblivious to the little jolts of electricity the simple gesture sent through your body. An unfamiliar mixture of dejection, despair and awe flashed through his onyx eyes, and you wondered what it was that he wasn’t telling you that could’ve possibly elicited such reaction.

“How do you know all that?” you wanted him to focus on something other than whatever it was that poisoned his thoughts.

“Father taught me,” he shrugged.

It’d been a while since he last mentioned his family. But you knew he was thinking about them whenever you saw the accentuated wrinkle every time he furrowed his brows, or when his muscles felt so tense to the touch that he was akin to marble against your skin. He was worried, he had been for a while now. And it scared you. You needed to know.

“Yoongi…” the uncertainty that laced your tone made him squeeze your flesh encouragingly. “Where is he? Your dad.”

“Home,” he stated tersely.

“I know, but… Where is home? And what about your brothers? I know you said you don’t speak to them anymore, you just never explained why.”

“We’ve already talked about this. They’re home, too. Y/N, just forget it,” he shook his head, avoiding your gaze.

“Why do you build this wall between us every time? It’s frustrating. I can help-“

“You can’t,” he deadpanned, breaking off any contact when he got up, making his way to the door. His demeanor screamed for you to back off, that he had no interest in continuing the conversation. But you were done being left in the dark.

“Why is it so hard for you to trust me, huh?”

“I already told you that it’s not a trust issue,” he raised his voice. “Why can’t you accept that I don’t want you to get caught up in the middle of my mess?”

“Well, I am caught up in the middle of your mess!” you roared. “You were gone for an entire month and have been on edge ever since you got back. Something’s going on, I’m not stupid.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N,” a deep growl escaped his throat. “It’s none of your business, if we’re being honest here. They’re my problems, I’m the only one who can fix them – hell, not even that.”

“If you could stop being such a jerk for a second, you’d realize that they became my problems, too, as soon as I fell in love with you. But you’re so far up your own ass that we can’t even discuss things without yelling at each other,” you spit the words. “Do you know what it’s like for me to watch you struggle like you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders? Especially when my hands are tied,” you stepped closer to his figure, heart hammering on your chest after your little speech. It was nothing but a whisper when you said, “You’re not alone, you idiot.”

His whole expression softened, and you could recognize a faint smile on his velvety lips. Taking a deep breath, he closed the distance between the both of you and let his hand rest on the column of your neck.

“I am an idiot,” he nodded, visibly calmer. “And you’re stubborn, you know that?”

“Might have heard something about it,” you grumbled.

He hummed. “Forgive me. Could you?”

“Maybe. Will you… I mean, I just wish you’d open up a little. I’m scared, Yoongi,” you confessed.

“Me, too.”

“I know. That’s why.”

He shook his head and lowered it until his skin touched yours. “I’m scared of your reaction, baby. I don’t know if you’ll want me once you discover the truth,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

“I’d say you’re safe. Unless your family is trying to coerce you into becoming a real life Michael Corleone. You didn’t shoot anyone in the head, did you?”

He chuckled wholeheartedly and took a step back to maintain eye contact and mock you properly. “That’s your theory? That I’m a mobster?”

You looked down sheepishly, before answering nonchalantly in a small voice, “One of them.” He couldn’t help himself, even though his hand was pressed tight against his mouth and his eyes were glistening with unshed tears of amusement. He tittered.

“May I know the others?”

“No,” you glared.

“Oh, George, what if I ask nicely? What if I say please?”

“Not even then.”

“How about pretty please?” You shook your head, trying to pass through him to get to the kitchen, but he encircled his arms around you from behind before you could grasp the knob. “And what if I tell you that I am, too?” he breathed in the shell of your ear and you held your breath for a second. You didn’t need him to vocalize what you already knew, but you felt butterflies fluttering anyways. Still, you kept your ground, suddenly very conscious of the fact that your shorts were still pooled on the floor near the bed.

“Closer, goodfella. But not enou-“

The loud bangs on the front door cut you midsentence. You felt Yoongi’s body stiffen before something that sounded terribly similar to a low growl broke out of his throat.

“Get dressed and stay here,” he ordered, authoritative. He didn’t spare you a glance before exiting the bedroom, and you felt a dreadful feeling claw up your insides, piercing your gut and making you nauseous. Pulse thrumming viciously under your skin, you fetched your shorts and wiggled it up, fastening the belt with shaky hands. Stop overreacting, you told yourself over and over, growing more anxious by the second. You couldn’t understand why, to be honest.

Taking deep breaths, you forced your fidgety fingers to stay still as you fell limp on the soft mattress, eyes closed. Your mind wandered to the safe haven: cotton clouds and baby blue sky, the smell of the grass, the books scattered around you and him. For a minute, you could truly take the edge off. Until you heard the noise of glass shattering on the wall.

Getting off the bed as fast as you could, your head spun. You opened the door quietly, careful not to expose the presence of another person in the house, and made a beeline to the kitchen. While you looked franticly for something that could be useful as a weapon, you tried to stay attentive to the sounds. They were muffled, but you could discern at least two voices, apart from Yoongi’s.

Alright. Great.

As any sane person who’s watched more than a few movies would do, you went for the most obvious choice. Knives. Better safe than sorry.

Almost counting your steps, you tiptoed your way to the living room. The voices were not very loud, but you could easily understand what was being said now that you were closer.

“It’s imperative that you return with us now,” a dulcet, almost high-pitched voice uttered softly. “I am sure you are aware of your responsibilities. It’s time.”

You stayed hidden behind the icy-white wall that separated the two rooms, gripping the hilt of the knife so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Maybe you shouldn’t be eavesdropping, that was clearly a family matter. Maybe you should lock yourself in Yoongi’s bedroom and do as he said. But the truth was that you were far too curious – and now far too enchanted by the childlike voice – to stop yourself from prying.

“I believe you have already forgotten about the current state of affairs, then? Father exempted me from my duties as soon as he banished me from the Gates and sent me to exile,” Yoongi spit. You could see it clearly in your head as he ran his fingers through his hair in annoyance. He sounded… different. You didn’t have the courage to tilt your head and steal a glance, afraid they’d catch the motion.

“Father warned you about the consequences of your stubbornness, Michael, but you were very much unyielding in your misconceptions,” the second person said, gruffy and curt.

“It is not a misconception to care for our own flesh and blood.”

Wait. Michael? Had he been listening to your conversation earlier? If the man wasn’t so deadly serious and the air so dense, you would’ve laughed – although you felt that it was probably not the right time to let out a full-throated guffaw to mask an anxiety attack.

“Our own flesh and blood abused his role as a persecutor and bent the rules for his own selfish purposes. Azrael is fortunate if Father ever forgives him, albeit we both know he will. Brother, I know you hold the highest regards for truth and justice, but it was not your place to question an order.”

You could hear the crude man pacing around the room as he spoke. Hoping to stay unnoticed, you sneaked a peek. The first person you landed eyes on was not at all taller than you, and you supposed that was the first man you’d heard. His hair was silvery, almost platinum blonde, styled in a way that evinced his beautiful forehead. The way he carried himself was elegant and graceful, like a ballerina, and his appearance suited his youthful voice perfectly. The second figure to catch your eye, though, was the complete opposite. Tall, lustrous olive skin and brown hair, he was intimidating at first glance. His steps were heavy on the floor, nearly clumsy.

“Perhaps there lies the problem. We are never to question, even whilst we deem fit. Azrael is the embodiment of corruption and amorality; it’s consensual, we are well aware. No matter how devious, he is needed. Casting one of the Seven out ought to never be an option. Be that as it may… There are only five of us within the Gates now. Was I supposed to receive graciously the task of exiling our own brother?”

You were growing considerably annoyed by their choice of words. Why the hell would they be talking like your great-grandparents? All cells in your body were telling you that it was supposed to be cringey, but in reality it was nothing but alluring. Charming. And that’s where all the annoyance came from.

“It is unwise to go against His instructions. Are you a rebel at heart, Prince?” The man stopped his pacing to let the words tumble out of his mouth, venomous. You could tell by Yoongi’s countenance that he was about to lose his composure, and in a way you were yet to see. His body were trembling slightly in fury, and his lips were compressed together in a well-defined line. You were astounded, however, by his eyes. In that moment, you couldn’t move even if you intended to. They were tinted in a deep violet, just like you had seen before at Jin’s encounter, except that, this time, they hadn’t gone back to black.

“This has nothing to do with the Rebellion, Raph-“

“Then why disobey? Do you plan to defy Father as well? It would be entertaining to watch you fight your antithesis for the throne of the underworld,” he chuckled.

It all happened in an instant, but for you it felt like slow motion. Yoongi was convulsing within himself, as if attempting to refrain a great deal of energy from breaking free. Once you saw blood oozing from his closed fists, you knew it was a lost battle. But never, ever, could you have foreseen what came next, what kind of energy – power – exactly he was trying to repress. For a very brief moment, everything stood still. If you had been able to avert your eyes from him, you’d see the silvery-hair figure shudder. You’d see the faint smirk on the lips of the man who caused Yoongi’s outburst, even though he was, deep down, a tad terrified. But you did not have time, nor will-power, to pay attention to anyone but him, ablaze amethysts shooting daggers at the man before them.

Then everything came crashing down. Your beliefs, the world as you knew it, it was all taken away ruthless and abruptly once you saw white feathers rip through black shirt. You gasped audibly, falling to the floor with a dull thud as the knife clinked at your feet. None of them noticed, too entranced by the interaction that unrevealed itself. Yoongi got to his prey at an unhuman speed, grabbing him by the throat and caging him against the door. The horrid sound was enough to make you wince through your stupor, and, if it were anybody else, their skull would have cracked. The man, however, only clenched his jaw to suppress a whimper.

“How dare you speak ill of your Leader like this?” as his voice went down a few octaves, Yoongi’s hold tightened visibly. The man-child seemed as ready to meddle as he would ever be, though still too frightened to actually move. “How dare you, brother, mention the Chief of the Heavenlies in the same breath as his nemesis? Mere one hundred and fifty years, Raphael, and you already built the temerity of being impertinent towards me? Or have you simply forgotten who I am?” his wings were whooshing, as if he was preparing to – quite literally – take flight at any given moment. They were stupendous, bigger than he himself, and so snowy-white, so untainted. Truly immaculate, contrasting with his raven hair.

His angelic features, albeit glorious, could never outstand the magisterial way to which he spoke, imposing authority. Like he was born for it. Everything about him in that moment urged you to bow before his feet, and you weren’t even the one holding his darkened glare. It was entirely alien to you, a facet of him you could barely conceive, let alone process. Raphael undoubtedly recoiled at his words, but tried to conceal it.

“Then show me. Do your title justice and lead us to victory, as I know there is no wrath nor passion greater than yours. Not for a moment have I forgotten who you are, Flaming Warrior, but you certainly have.” Raphael spoke, and it fell to the ears like a prayer.

As Yoongi’s wings retracted once again, you breathed what seemed to be the first intake of air in hours. He slackened his grip on Raphael’s throat, who then bent over in a fit of coughing. The boyish man’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he let out a sigh. Of course, the little truce was bound to be broken the minute one of them laid eyes on you. It happened to be the blonde.

“Michael, there is a human on your floor,” he whispered, resembling a kid more than ever with his eyes wide open. “Why is there a human on your floor?” he snapped his head, shooting the question directly to Yoongi’s face, and you saw his body stiffen. “Oh, Father! She’s heard our names! Brother…”

“Silent,” his voice was gruff, and he turned to scrutinize your figure. You weren’t sure of how you looked from the view of an outsider, but you felt… Shock, maybe? Fright? You didn’t know who and what was in front of you, and all you could think was how come his eyes are pitch black now?

“Yoongi, we violated the law,” the man you now identified as Raphael said.

“Namjoon,” his eyes never left you as he spoke, “take our brother home and certify yourself that he does not mention today’s events within the Gates.”

“B-But the protocol-“

“Does not apply to her, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi cut him off, “If you still need me to fight by your side, that is.”

He seemed appalled by the perspective of that being an option. “Needless to say, brother, of course we do!”

“That means I am in charge, then. So, at your superior’s orders, will you be able to keep this to yourself?” Yoongi craned his neck to glance at them through his peripheral vision.

“If it is what you want, brother,” he mumbled, averting his gaze to the floor in respect.

“Well, that being the case, I fear we might have to end this dreadful visit already. Notify our soldiers that I am to be expected soon.”

“Yes, sir,” Raphael responded with a worried frown tainting his beautiful face. He touched the cherubic-like man on the shoulder and they both left the apartment.

Yoongi’s feet were glued to the floor, the same spot he’d been standing since landing eyes on you. Your breathing was labored and hitched; your throat so dry that it felt like sandpaper. He took a little step forward, slowly stretching one hand in your direction. You let out a low whimper, recoiling until you were almost balled up, knees pressed tight against your chest. He immediately withdrew his arm and flinched.

“I told you to stay in the bedroom.” His voice was flat, it wasn’t a scold.

“W-What- What the hell just-“ a sob broke through your throat, and only then did you notice hot tears striking your cheeks. “Y-Yoongi,” you weren’t sure of what to say, let alone if you were actually able to choke a whole sentence out.

“Are you afraid?”

Yes.

Fuck, yes.

Were you afraid of him, though? Granted, his whole countenance while exerting power over someone else sent chills through down your spine. But that was not the man standing before you now, no.

“Who are you?” you asked, trying too hard to keep a clear head.

He straightened his back. “My true name is Michael,” he muttered.

“You know that’s not what I asked,” you objected.

“Yes,” he sighed, “I know. Can you keep an open mind?”

“An open mind?” you scoffed. “I’m here, aren’t I? After seeing a pair of wings growing out of your shoulder blades.”

“You are,” he chuckled humorlessly. He then walked tentatively in your direction, sitting on the floor as well when he deemed close enough. “I’m one of the Seven.”

Your face twisted in confusion. Your brain was trying to deny what your subconscious already knew. “Go on.”

“My brothers and I… we are one of Father’s first creations. Have you ever heard of the seven archangels, George?”

“Yeah,” your voice was nearly inaudible.

“It’s easier for you to understand, then. We are responsible for maintaining harmony in Heaven. That, occasionally, includes keeping things in order between the Gates and Earth,” he paused, searching for anything in your face that would require him to stop. “I am… let’s say, of great importance to keep the balance between our worlds, including the nether regions. You might have already gathered that I’m their leader, so to speak. I am in charge of all heavenly troupes, every single one of Father’s soldiers is under my command, as well as I am under His. In times of war, I am indispensable. That’s why they call me Warrior Prince; amongst other things.”

“So it’s… all real?” your voice almost cracked. “Hell, heaven… God?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Then why are you here?” you murmured under your breath and his expression darkened.

“Immortality can make you petty. Do you remember meeting Azrael? I guess you know him as Jin. Azrael is… unique. Known as the Persecutor, he was the first reaper to ever exist – created before I was, even. He harvests human souls in due time and delivers them to a realm that suits them best. Paradise, Purgatory or Hell. My brother can be misunderstood very easily; his job has brought to the surface a sadistic persona. We all deal with evil from time to time, it was born in our home, but… Azrael is death, it’s a heavy burden to carry. Infinite lifetimes dealing with the worst sentiments a human can ever experience is bound to leave some scars. He can be mischievous and quite a pain in the ass, to be honest,” he huffed, “but his loyalty is admirable. So, when he made an egocentric mistake, Father reunited us all to discuss the best course of action. Much like a trial, if you will. The point is: they banished him to live amongst his… victims for a certain period of time. I could never agree to that, I believe every single one of the Seven serves a purpose, we are all needed to maintain natural balance.”

“So you rebelled?”

“No,” he scowled. “I’m not a rebel, I’m… a nonconformist.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“Not for us, it’s not.”

“Okay. Then what happened?”

“It’s a long story, if you want me to explain it correctly.”

“I do. And you’re everlasting, so I bet we have some time to spare.”

“Right,” he snorted. “My people is a bit traumatized when it comes to defiance, you probably know why.”

“Because of the devil, right?”

“Lucifer deeply despises all of his nicknames. But yeah, he’s the reason. A very long time ago, Father decided to expand our family. My brothers and I were content, but when He presented the idea of more… more of us, more love, we agreed on the spot. See, He was never, ever, the tyrant your kind makes him to be. Until Lucifer, that is. He was… exquisite, my brother. From his birth, each and every angel to exist used to say that Father got inspired by me when creating him, but in a very distinctive way. As much as possible, we were the flip side of each other, although extremely similar still, if that makes sense. With time, our bond grew stronger; we became inseparable. Almost everything we did was in each other’s company: from training in the fields to reading manuscripts under the sunlight. My brothers and I didn’t have much to worry about, it was a very peaceful existence. We had not come to know sin yet.

Needless to say, it did not last. Because we were oddly alike and yet so different, comparisons were nearly inevitable. I didn’t mind them back then, so I thought he would never take it to the heart either. I was wrong. Lucifer distanced himself slowly but surely, and with each passing day, he tried harder to triumph over me in a childish competition, one that existed strictly in his head. He’d become resentful, and his animosity soon spread like wildfire towards the others, too. None of us were able to comprehend a feeling we had never experienced ourselves, so it took us years to make sense of the situation. By the time we did… I guess it was already too late.

When Father created your kind, the hierarchy became even more apparent: only us, the archangels, were allowed to interact with humans – even so, only to a certain degree and always serving a purpose. Father wished your… species to stay untouched by our graces. Masterpieces, as long as kept apart, he had said. You see, your people got it terribly wrong. Lucifer was never jealous of humans – in fact, he holds deep contempt for them. He was jealous of us, of me, because my new responsibilities evinced that we had different roles on the chain of command. If rancor was his first sin, fury came to be the second. He endeavored to make a point of how unfair it was of Father to ‘play favorites’ and provide the Seven with greater might. My brother was a very shrewd, intelligent being, but his envy made him blind to a lot of things.

Lucifer used the following years to spread his beliefs right under our noses, and therefore was able to gather a herd of angels who succumbed to blatant lies just as much as he did. That was the beginning of the rebellion. His ability to lead was remarkable, but he could never be a true leader – not that he intended to, anyway. The reason is pretty obvious: my brother did not care the least about those under his directions, they were means to an end. His main goal was to dethrone the Seven, and for that he forged a deadly weapon: the flaming sword. The uprising initiated a war that none of us were ready for, not even him. For seven days, we fought. For seven days, we continuously killed our own. I suppose you already know the end to that story.”

You were so fascinated by his narrative that you’d already forgotten the reason he brought up the subject.

“I think so,” you said. “The real thing is actually so… different from everything I’ve ever heard.”

“I know. Tales never accomplish the whole truth.”

“But what does that have to do with the reason you’re here?”

“Like I said, my kind does not tolerate defiance after everything that happened. When Azrael was sentenced, I didn’t exactly make an effort to hide how I felt about it. They didn’t take it very well, so if you ask any of them why I was exiled, they’ll say it was for disobedience. When, in fact, it was because I reminded them too much of him,” he sighed, and you both fall into a pregnant pause. “How are you taking this?”

“I’m not sure. I guess I just didn’t have enough time to process yet.”

“I know,” he twisted a strand of your hair in his slender index finger.

All of a sudden, a realization fell heavy on your heart.

“Is your time up?”

His brows knitted themselves together. “My time?”

“Yeah. You said you’d stay here… for a predetermined amount of time. Is that why they came to get you?”

“No, George,” he let out a puff of air from his nose, “that’s not why they came for me.”

“Then why?”

“Think about it. Why would they need their General for?”

You shook your head, trying to make sense of what he was telling you. Oh.

“You said you were indispensable in times of…” your whisper faded to an end.

“War,” he completed.

||\\

“While they adore me on the throne of hell,

With diadem and sceptre high advanced

The lower still I fall, only supreme

In misery; such joy ambition finds.

But say I could repent and could obtain

By act of grace my former state; how soon

Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay

What feigned submission swore: ease would recant

Vows made in pain, as violent and void

For never can true reconcilement grow

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:

Which would lead me to a worse relapse

And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear

Short intermission bought with double smart.”

There was a thin layer of snow covering the streets once again. The friction between the tires and the asphalt was barely there, and if the circumstances were different, that would be your main concern. The wind howled as you cut through it like bullets, and you tightened your embrace around his waist, somehow enjoying the numbing air of a cold late-afternoon. Eyes wide opened this time. When he finally parked in front of the porch, you quickly hopped down and took the helmet off, placing it in the seat you had previously taken. Before you could say or do anything, Yoongi seized your wrist with a leather-gloved hand.

“I’m positively opposed to this,” he blurted in a last attempt to change your mind.

“I know.” You tried to free yourself from his iron grasp, but to no avail. It was getting easier to read his features, and you could tell he was still unsure. But you were not. “Yoongi, it’s my call.”

“Don’t I have a say in it?”

“Ultimately… no.”

“Want you to be safe, that’s all. Let us be reasonable about this, why don’t you?”

“I thought you understood better than anyone that I don’t get to be reasonable about this,” you sighed with impatience. “Please, I—”

“Okay,” he loosened his grip. “I’ll wait here.”

“Okay.”

The light was off in the living room, your mother wasn’t home yet. You told yourself that it was better this way. Making a beeline to the stairs, you went over the little list in your head once again before entering your bedroom.

Set of clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, laptop… What else?

You looked around, the baby-blue walls somehow mocking you, an excruciating reminder of simpler times. Memories of your childhood swirled inside your mind. All the times you and Taehyung would play hide and seek, the squeals he’d let out whenever you caught him off guard, how he was certainly faster than you, but would let you win a childish race every now and then. The familiar scent of caramel and coffee roaming around the house in the wee small hours of the morning after movie nights, your mom’s chocolate chip pancakes for lunch on Sundays. It all felt like a lifetime ago.

Hauling your backpack across your shoulder, you had a weird feeling that that was it. That was goodbye. Although Yoongi had promised you’d be back safe and sound in a couple of days, you knew things could go wrong. It was a pondered decision; you were aware of the risks, he’d made sure of it. Still, leaving his side when there was a real possibility that he might not get out alive was just… not conceivable. Logically, you understood that, if things went south, you would not be able to do much. You did not care much for logic these days, anyway.

[Cheers Darlin’, by Damien Rice]

Stepping out of the room and shutting the door as quietly as possible—for no apparent reason—you hopped downstairs two steps at a time, making sure to avoid staring at other parts of the house that could trigger another episode of nostalgia. Too focused on the task of trying not to focus, you missed the six feet tall barricade blocking the entrance to the living room, crashing into it face-first. If it wasn’t for the unrelenting grip keeping you in place, you would’ve certainly hit the floor.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the flat baritone voice resonated throughout the empty space.

Of course. You closed your eyes tightly, taking a deep breath before even contemplating lifting your head to make eye contact.

“Do you need something?” in a poor attempt to shield yourself, you parroted his dead intonation.

“Do I need something,” he hummed. Then he chuckled, fists clenching around your forearms. “Are you leaving?” he spat. “What about your mom, huh?”

“It’s just a couple of days. I’ll call her.”

By the scowl plastered on his face, your dismissive attitude hadn’t worked the way you planned it to. You had to do this quick, like ripping off a bandage. If anyone could give you a run for your money in this situation, that would be Taehyung. You knew he’d try to persuade you into staying, so you couldn’t risk it. For both your sakes.

“I see,” he remarked. “Were you planning to tell me you’re running off with your boyfriend or you’d just leave me to figure it out on my own?”

His venomous words burned out of his mouth at lightning speed, tainting his tongue with a pungent aftertaste.

“You know I would never do something like that,” the hurt that laced your voice was evident, but, maybe for the first time, it didn’t make him feel half as bad as it should.

“Do I?” he scoffed. “For the past few months, it feels like you’ve already left. Wouldn’t make much of a difference if you actually did, I guess.”

That did it. You felt tears well up in your eyes, but you were determined to not let them fall.

“Okay, I’m not doing this,” you whispered, not trusting your voice enough to speak properly, and pulled your arms out of his grasp roughly. You darted for the closed front door, feeling sick to your stomach at the thought of spending another minute inside the house. He clutched your shirt tightly, as if it was a lifeboat.

“Wait,” his fists clenched tighter. You could sense him getting closer, but you didn’t have the guts to turn around and face him just yet. He buried his face on your right shoulder, holding your hip now, nails bound to leave little crescent moons on your skin. “M’sorry,” he mumbled. “I hate this.”

Your heart ached. You hated it, too. Pushing Taehyung away was never your intention, but you finally came to understand all the times Yoongi had kept a safe distance before. To keep you safe. You couldn’t risk it, not with Marzipan.

“It’s fine, Tae.”

“It’s not,” he shook his head, brushing his nose on the fabric of your blouse. Inhaling deeply, he moved to the nape of your neck. You shuddered. “None of this is fine,” a peck on the bare skin of your neck, and your entire body tensed.

“Taehyung…” you warned.

“Don’t,” he begged, turning you around. You were adamant on avoiding his gaze, so your eyes kept darting between your feet and your hands. “Don’t go.”

While he rested his forehead on yours, one hand on your cheek and the other thumbing your collarbone, you knew what was about to happen. You knew, and, still, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him. You knew, but it was Taehyung, your best friend. Marzipan, the little boy from the house next door. Boxy smile, disheveled hair, sweet-toothed Taehyung. How wrong could it be? You were saying goodbye to a part of your own soul. How wrong could it be?

When his lips touched yours, soft and ravenous, you really wanted it to feel right. But the answer to your previous question was: too wrong. You loved him, yes. But he wasn’t him. Didn’t taste the same, didn’t feel the same. His movements weren’t slow yet demanding, his hand wasn’t drawing invisible patterns on your lower back, his smell wasn’t musky enough. It just didn’t feel right.

“Tae,” you tried to end the kiss, but he led his mouth back to yours like in a trance, nibling on your lower lip. “Taehyung, stop!”

By the end of it, you were both panting. It dawned you how big of a mistake you had just made, and guilt made you nauseous. Neither of them deserved what you’d just done, neither of them deserved to have their hearts broken because you were such a fuck up.

“I-I’m so sorry, Tae,” your voice cracked. He was about to answer, but you didn’t want to hear it. You couldn’t breathe, your skin was on fire and there was a big, nasty lump in your throat. You bolted out the door, only to be met with Yoongi’s inquiring gaze. It seemed to have broken a damn, and heavy tears tumbled down your cheeks. He rushed to meet you halfway, brushing the tears away as soon as his hands reached your face.

“Hey,” he shushed you. “What happened, baby?”

“Can we go home, please?”

The crease between his furrowed eyebrows deepened, but still, he chose not to pry any further.

“Of course, love. Of course we can,” he softly muttered, although still hesitant to take his hands off you.

You climbed onto the familiar grey motorcycle and hid your damped cheeks on his jacket. The beast rumbled, gaining speed as you cut through the air. The ghost of Taehyung’s lips on yours haunting you the entire way back.

139 notes · View notes

agustdakasuga · 4 years

Text

You Never Walk Alone | Chapter 7

Genre: Werewolf!AU, Poly!AU?, Mate!AU, romance, fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Student!reader, Omega!Seokjin, Alpha!Yoongi, Beta!Hoseok, Alpha!Namjoon, Omega!Jimin, Beta!Taehyung, Alpha!Jungkook

Summary: You live a quiet life in your late grandfather’s cabin in the woods. You go to school just to graduate and get your diploma, not to make friends or stand out from the crowd. That was until one day, you enter your home to see a pack of wolves that need shelter.

Dinner with the boys gave you a new experience that you knew would stick with you for a while. Although you cannot forget the wolves, you’re just as happy with your 7 new friends.

Friday drew a lot nearer than you expected. After school, you parted ways with the boys and went home. Of course, they didn’t stop reminding you about coming over to their house for dinner later. As if you would forget in the span of 5 minutes.

“Should I bring anything?” You asked.

“Just yourself.” Jungkook smiled and you nodded your head with a smile. You headed into your cabin and took a quick shower.

“What should I wear?” You stood in front of your closet, only wrapped in a towel. You haven’t really been to anyone else’s home for a meal before so you were a little nervous.

“Too casual... Too fancy...” You tossed aside each outfit that you felt didn’t fit.

In the end, you decided to go with a blue skater skirt with stars and a white button up shirt. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you brushed your hair.

“There.” You nodded in approval.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

“Coming!” You put your brush down and headed downstairs. When you opened the door, you were not expecting to see RM standing there. When he saw you, he was taken aback by how simply breathtaking you were, even if you didn’t deliberately dress up. He cleared his throat before smiling at you, flashing you his deep dimple.

“I came to escort you. Make sure you don’t get lost on your way. You look good, by the way.” RM explained with a smile and you blushed.

“Oh, thank you. Am I over dressed?” You asked.

“Not at all.” He shook his head.

“Just let me get my bag.” You said to him and ran back to your room. You slung your bag over your shoulder and wore your converse shoes. After you were done, you turned off the lights and locked the front door.

“RM- Oof!” You had turned and bumped into his chest, not realising he was standing right behind you.

“Sorry.” The both of you stepped away from one another.

“Ready to go?” He cleared his throat. You gave an awkward smile and nodded your head. RM led the way and you followed him through the forest.

“We’re on the way.” RM told his brothers as he cast you a subtle side glance. You were focused on the path ahead of you, not being familiar with this part of the forest. He smiled softly at you, finding it a little hard to believe that you were standing by his side, walking alone with him.

“Woah.” You stopped as the big bungalow came to view. It was so big and modern that you wondered just how they built it so quickly.

“What do you think?” RM nudged you gently.

“It’s huge!” You chuckled. He gestured forward to the steps and you bowed your head, stepping up. RM opened the door and led you inside. If you thought the outside was nice, the inside was even more impressive.

“(y/n)!” You were tackled by hugs.

“H-Hello.” You stuttered.

“Hey, let our guest breathe.” The 3 youngest ones were pulled away from you and you straightened your skirt.

“You’re here.” Jimin grinned.

“That, I am. Thanks again for inviting me over. Your house is so beautiful.” You complimented and the boys once again, mentally fawned over how adorable you were as you had a fascinated look on your face.

“Have a seat! Dinner will be done soon.” J-Hope invited, pointing to the empty couch, and you nodded, tucking your skirt under your bum as you sat down. V placed a cup of tea down in front of you and you bowed your head, taking the cup and sipping the liquid lightly. The 5 boys all sat around you, Seokjin and Suga staying in the kitchen to finish cooking.

“The tea is very nice.” You turned to V.

“Thank you. It’s my own custom blend that I created.” V said and you nodded your head, impressed.

“I have not greeted Seokjin and Suga.” You remembered and stood up.

“She’s so polite and courteous.” Jungkook stared at you. Jimin led you to the kitchen, where the oldest two were cooking. They were so busy that they didn’t even notice that you walked in. They didn’t even smell your scent.

“Hyungs.” V coughed and they jumped slightly, turning around to see you standing there with a shy smile.

“Hello. Thank you for cooking.” You said to them.

“No problem. It should be done in about half an hour. Did the boys get you a drink while you wait?” Jin asked and you nodded your head, laughing. Your tinkling laughter was like music to their ears.

“Please, don’t rush on my accord. I love the tea V gave me and the boys are nice to talk to. Actually, is there anything I can help with? I’m not a gourmet chef but I can do simple things like chopping or stir frying. If that will help take some load off you.” You offered, rolling your sleeves up.

“How generous.” Jin and Suga melted.

“Nonsense. You’re our guest, we can’t possibly make you cook with us. You should be relaxing. And you’re dressed so nicely, we wouldn’t want to dirty your clothes.” Yoongi spoke softly.

“That’s okay. And it feels weird to be treated so formally. We’re friends after all, right?” You asked and they all nodded their heads.

“Still, we’re not going to let you cook. Come on, we’ll give you a house tour.” Placing his hands on your shoulders, Jimin led you out of the kitchen. You followed them as they showed you their new house.

They didn’t bother going through the bedrooms because that was boring. But they did show you the library, the backyard garden, the dining room, the bar area and their home theatre. Even their hallways had a lot of glass panels, which let a lot of natural light in, giving the space a warm feeling. It was very homey but you knew it must have cost a lot.

“Really nice home.” You told them.

“Thank you, we’re glad you like it. You know you can come over whenever you like.” V grinned and your eyes widened slightly. Jungkook nudged his older brother gently.

“Hyung, you can’t say that to a girl.” Jungkook whispered. You covered your hands to stifle your laughs.

“Oh, sorry.” V blushed.

“It’s fine.” You laughed and continued walking back to the living room with them. You saw Jungkook helping the others set the table and stepped up, going to the kitchen to find J-Hope scooping the rice into bowls.

“Can I help?” You asked.

“Alright. Help me bring these out?” He smiled and you nodded, taking the bowls in your hands. With each bowl, he told you who was having which. There were different amounts of rice. For example, Jungkook, Seokjin and RM ate a lot more rice than Suga and Jimin.

“Is this good for you?” He showed you the bowl.

“Perfect.” You grabbed the bowl graciously and brought it out. Of course, he knew how much you ate after seeing out cook for yourself over the course of 2 weeks.

“Wow, what a spread. Thanks for cooking.” You turned to Suga and Seokjin.

“Hope it’s to your liking.” Seokjin smiled.

“Don’t worry! It looks so good, I’ll definitely like it.” You chuckled as everyone took their seats. You sat in between V and Jungkook. There was seriously so much food but mostly beef. Seeing how the boys ate so much beef reminded you of the 7 wolves yet again. Wolf Jimin would have loved to have so much beef instead of that boiled chicken he hated.

“(y/n)? You okay?” Suga waved a hand in front of your face.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just day dreaming, sorry.” You blushed and continued eating. Jungkook grabbed a piece of beef, putting it in your bowl with a small smile.

“Thank you.” You turned to him.

“Eat up!” Jungkook grinned, reminding you a bunny. It felt awkward at first but the boys were quick to make you feel comfortable with conversations you could relate to. You have never eaten a home cooked meal with this many people before.It had always been you and your grandfather.

“How’s the food?” Seokjin asked.

“It’s really good! You guys are great cooks.” You smiled as you put another spoon of rice into your mouth.

“So, what’s the reason you guys decided to settle here? You all seem like the kind to live in the city rather than a secluded country side like here.” You asked.

“We’re here because of you.” They all thought.

“Not really though. We appreciate our nature. The city gets too noisy and stressful some times. But you never get tired of the countryside. We definitely wouldn’t be able to get such a nice house if we were in the city.” V spoke.

“You’re right. I grew up here with my grandfather. This place is my life and I never want to leave.” You confessed, remembering fond memories with your grandfather.

“Even if he’s not here anymore, I still want to continue living here.” You added. The boys grew soft.

“We’re sorry for your loss.” Suga whispered.

“Thank you. But I guess I got to meet you guys so I’m not completely alone.” You shrugged with a smile.

“Ever the optimist. You’re right, you will never be alone again.” J-Hope smiled softly.

“Next time, you guys should come over to mine. I’ll bake something if you guys like.” You smiled. The boys were all excited at the thought of going over to your house. They missed the scent of your cabin and most of all, they missed being around you. And now, with the promise of your baked goods, they were even more than thrilled to go.

“We would love to!” Jungkook said a little too enthusiastically. You grinned and reached out to pat his head, making him freeze.

“Sorry! I shouldn’t have...” You panicked, not knowing what got into you.

“No! No! It’s okay! I don’t mind.” Jungkook assured. It was more than okay. The skin to skin contact you had with him just sent shivers down his spine, in a good way.

“Calm down.” Jungkook scowled to his wolf.

When dinner was done, you helped bring the dishes to the back, which the boys already tried to protest to you doing. Therefore, when you tried to ask to help with the dishes, they kicked you out of the kitchen.

“I just wanted to help. It feels weird not to be doing anything.” You rubbed the back of your neck.

“Just relax, (y/n). It’s our agreement with one another anyway. Those who don’t cook, help to clean up.” Seokjin leaned against the back of the couch. Suga nodded in agreement, drinking his iced coffee. He looked up but when your eyes met, you turned away in embarrassment.

“Cute.” Suga thought fondly.

“You like coffee?” You asked. He nodded his head.

“I want to visit your cafe.” He stated quite straightforwardly. Your eyes widened and Seokjin burst out laughing.

“Forgive my dear Suga, he speaks his mind without thinking. What he means is, we would love to visit the cafe you’re working at. You know, to try the coffee that you make.” Seokjin quickly explained.

“Oh, right. Here.” You gave them the name card of the cafe. Suga took it with two hands, slipping it into his back pocket. You checked your phone and saw that it was getting quite late. If it was your first time over, you shouldn’t overstay your welcome.

“I should get going.” You slung your bag over your shoulder.

“I’ll walk you home.” Suga stood up as well. The others came out and grabbed Suga and Seokjin, dragging them to the ktichen. You stood there awkwardly.

“Rock, paper, scissors.” They squinted at each other.

“Wait! Namjoon hyung already got to pick her up! He should be excluded.” V said and everyone turned to look at the leader. He sighed and backed away with his hands held up in surrender.

“Rock, paper, scissors!” They shot out. Seokjin won. He held his scissors up proudly, smirking at the rest.

“I’ll bring you.” Seokjin smiled.

“Thanks for coming over.” The other 6 walked the two of you to the door with smiles and waves.

“Thanks for having me.” You bowed slightly and followed Seokjin out. The forest path was dark and quiet but enough moonlight shone through the tree tops so you were not walking back blindly. You turned slightly to look at Seokjin, his handsome features standing out more than usual under the illuminating moonlight.

“Yes?” He turned to you.

“Nothing.” You shook your head, turning your gaze back forward. Seokjin snickered silently to himself. It was a nice silence that engulfed the two of you.

“Are you cold?” Seokjin removed his denim jacket.

“It’s okay, Seokjin.”

“I wouldn’t want you getting sick.” He chuckled, draping the cardigan over your shoulders. You smiled gratefully and hugged the jacket around your frame tighter. It did bring some warmth and Seokjin’s faint scent on the cloth made you feel more comforted.

“Have a nice night, (y/n). Sleep well.” Seokjin stopped in front of your door.

“Thank you for having me over and walking me back. Have a good night.” You wished. Seokjin waited for you to enter your house before leaving. As you closed the door, you realised that you still had his jacket.

“I’ll return it on Monday or something.” You threw it in the wash and headed upstairs to your room.

You had morning shift the next day at the cafe. You headed in and removed your hoodie, changing into your barista uniform. Checking your reflection, you adjusted the apron around your waist and headed to the front.

“Morning.” Your manager, May, came out a few minutes after, checking the cash register.

“Morning, May sshi.” You bowed your head and turned on the coffee equipment. The machines buzzed lightly as it heated up. There was half an hour until opening time so you went around your area, checking and making sure you had everything you needed. You went back to get the milk out, stocking the mini fridge that was below your counter.

“The new cups need labels.” May told you.

“On it.” You went to get the bag of new cups, sticking the cafe’s labels on each one by hand.

“I’m going to open up.” May smiled and you nodded your head, putting the finished cups aside. The regular office workers came through to get their hot coffees on the go. You were very much focused on delivering the orders.

“1 iced americano, please.” A customer ordered. You heard the order and immediately started making the order.

“So this is it, huh?” The same voice spoke and you jumped slightly. You looked up to see the customer in front of you, with only the counter table separating the both of you.

“Suga sshi?” You moved your head slightly forward to see the face that was covered by the black cap.

“What’s with the formality?” He tilted his head. You blushed slightly.

“Sorry, I’m just used to formalities while I’m at work. I wasn’t expecting to see you.” You smiled as you fixed his coffee.

“I told you I was going to come check it out.” He shrugged. You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly and closed the lid over his cold beverage, putting it on the pick up table. You gestured to it with a slight bow of the head and he grabbed it, along with a straw.

“Thank you. Have a nice day.” You hummed and went back to making the other orders. Suga sat at a table near the corner, on his phone. You would occasionally look over at him to see him on his phone.

“Afternoon.” Your other colleagues, Junseo and Soojoo, came in. You bowed your head in greeting.

“Go have lunch. We’ll take over.” They said and you nodded.

Suga saw you leaving to the back room and stood up, his almost empty cup in his hand. When he saw you coming out the kitchen’s double doors with your bag, he followed you.

“You’re still here?” You giggled.

“Are you having your lunch break?” He ignored your question as he opened the cafe door for you to exit. You nodded your head. Suga looked conflicted, he wasn’t someone confident in his verbal confessions.

“Suga, would you like to have lunch together?” You asked. He nodded his head, looking away.

“Noodles?” The two of you walked to the nearby noodle bar together to eat. The owner gave you a table by the window and Suga removed his cap, running his fingers through his hair before fixing the accessory over his head again. His fluffy hair reminded you of the white wolf’s soft fur and it made you softened slightly at the memory of the wolves.

“One spicy soup for me.” You looked at the menu.

“Same.” Suga nodded. He called the waiter over to take your orders. Even if Suga was quiet, it was a nice kind of silence that the two of you shared.

“Sorry, I don’t hold a lot of conversations. I’m not like V or Jimin.” Suga cleared his throat.

“Don’t apologise. You’re Suga, you’re your own person. I don’t expect you to be like V or Jimin. Besides, sometimes I like the peace and quiet too. And I’m sure there are things that make you uniquely you.” You sent him a soft, reassuring smile.

“That’s why you’re perfect.” Suga mentally smiled.

“Two spicy noodles.” The waiter placed the bowls in front of you. You gave out the cutlery while Suga poured the cold tea.

“So, when did you move here?” Suga asked.

“I think... When I was about 5? The memory is quite foggy that I don’t quite remember what happened to my parents. My grandfather also grew sour when I asked him about it so I just stopped asking.” You shrugged.

“Do you... ever want to know what happened?”

“Of course, I do. At the end of the day, they’re still my parents.” You said a bit coldly.

“I-I’m sorry! That was totally not cool of me. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.” You realised how horrible your tone was and was in panic. You didn’t want to make Suga feel bad for asking.

“No, it’s alright. I shouldn’t have asked so much.” Suga replied.

“That still doesn’t give me a reason to be rude about it. It’s just... I do want to know what happened to them. But I don’t even know where to start looking for them and maybe after so many years, I’ve just accepted the fact that maybe they just aren’t around anymore. If they really wanted to reconnect, they would have done it by now.” You sighed.

“Whatever it is, I don’t want you to think it’s your fault in any way, okay? With your parents, that’s between them.” Suga comforted.

“Thank you for saying that.” You smiled.

“What about you, Suga? How did you come to live with the other boys?” You turned the conversation on him.

“Well, it’s kind of obvious that we are biological brothers. But we have been together since we were little. Our parents are all very close and when we grew older, we just decided to stick together.” Suga said briefly.

“I see. Must be nice to have such a big family.” He noticed the slight falter in your voice.

“You are part of that family too, (y/n). We’re friends now, you don’t have to feel like you’re alone.” Suga told you.

Tag list

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factual-fantasy · 3 years

Text

Gots some asks for ya’ll

If you really want to show me that you love and admire my art, you’re right, fanart is most certainly not the way to do it.

The way to do it is to comment on posts of mine that you like. Even if its just a “❤” or something like “my heART-” or “Wow! This looks great!”, you know?

I don’t like fanart, and if a post gets too many reblogs it kind’a spooks me, so just a little comment of basically any kind would be just fine. Its actually what I look forward to the most when posting art. :}

Hmm.. interesting question. Lets hope these ramblings I typed out actually answer your question lol.

I feel like something the crew all kind’a have in common is they most likely don’t seek out comfort from others when they are upset. They all most likely hide away in their rooms to silently cry things out on their own in peace.

Especially the Captain for example. I feel like out of everyone he hides his sadness the most, not wanting his team to see him in such a way and not wanting them to feel the need to comfort him. I feel like when he is sad he kind of retreats to his room to be alone for a bit. If the Captain is sad but has to be around the crew though? Maybe he just looks tired and is a bit slower than usual. His sadness can often times be mistaken for him just being tired. He probably prefers it that way honestly.

I feel like when Kwazii is upset he clams up and becomes more reserved. Usually he’s the talkative type right? Maybe the other crewmembers usually notice somethings wrong when he starts answering questions with just yes’s and nos. If someone takes him aside and tries to talk to him, maybe he’ll brush it off and say he’s alright. But if the Captain asks maybe he’ll feel more inclined to tell him what’s up. Maybe he’ll race around in the Gup-B as a pick me up when he’s down as well?

It could be a lot more obvious when Peso is sad. Maybe he gets really droopy and sulks around. I bet everyone notices and he most likely is less driven to keep it a secret. He’s most likely more open to talking about why he’s sad and more open to talking to others who are.

I feel like Dashi might like to have some alone time when she’s sad. She probably works slower and not as good when she’s upset, so she probably takes the time to get herself sorted out in private so she can keep working. She could also go to Tweak for a girl talk of needed.

Tweak could be someone who finds comfort in her work, so usually just buries her nose in blueprints and keeps to herself. When she’s sad maybe it shows on her face and in her body language. She could appear to be working just fine, but her drooped ears, tired expression and slower pace could let others know that she’s having a rough day.

Shellington could be like Tweak in that he just buries himself in his study's when he’s sad to try and get distracted or feel better. Maybe when he’s sad he’s not very good at hiding it. Maybe he’s visibly droopy and just down on everything. So it would make sense that he would prefer to hide away and work alone until he’s better

I feel like Inkling may be better in tune with his emotions. If he’s sad he gets to the root of the problem and tries to fix it. If he’s sad over something he cannot change? Maybe he makes some tea and just relaxes in the library to some music and reads or something. If someone comes to check on him maybe he looks tired and isn’t as talkative.

I feel like looking at Octonauts realistically Kwazii wouldn’t even know of the T-Pose meme.

And I also don’t know what kind of condiment he prefers. :/

Yeah, I have left the chat lol. Kind’a fits because I’m on a break now.

I went from being in my chair, happy and drawing a lot of pictures,

To droopy and annoyed with no pictures.

To just gone. :|

(Post in question)

XD Thank you! I’m glad you liked it :}

Aww thank you!! I try :} And I’m glad you like my Octonauts art! That means a lot! :D

As for how I draw hands? Well, I cant find the original post, but you can look at this hand tutorial I made a while back. Its a bit outdated but its still good in my opinion. :}

Personally I don’t think he, or any of the crew members do really.

Zoomies in cats are directly linked to their sleeping schedule which causes them to have a lot of built up energy at times.

Kwazii being sentient, having a different sleeping schedule, having daily physically active activities, having a different diet, body shape and size etc, etc, etc, lead me to believe that it wouldn't make sense for him to just be completely full of energy and be uncontroably bouncing off the walls at any given time.

So no, I don’t think he does. :/

I’ve always wondered about Kwazii’s family and why only Calico Jack is ever mentioned. Maybe there’s a darker reason behind it? 🤔

:0!! That’s adorable!

Where's the lie?? XD

Daww thanks, I’m glad you like how I draw him :}

She secretly splatters some green paint on Tweak and she doesn’t notice XD

(Post in question)

Ye, :} I’m going to continue to work on his design but for now he has a lil vest thingy. And thank you! I tried to make them look cute, :D

That would certainly throw everyone for a loop XD

All the knives are dirty and she be cravin dat bread

I did say I had plans to make Decepticon OCs yes. I was going to make about 17 actually.

But my drive to draw them kind’a diminished, and my hyper fixation on Transformers eventually got replaced with another one. :/

That sounds like something that would actually happen in the show. :0

I imagine Ratchet would perk up out of concern for the breathlessness part yeah. But eventually he’d just get annoyed by all the noisy laughter. XD

I think her paws would burn yeah, or at least are at risk of getting burnt.

Which is why my version of Tweak wears gloves, safety first Tweak!

I don’t think I would want to no.. and I don’t think I ever will. Making up my own crew member OCs just... I dunno, I don’t normally like making OCs for things like this, it just makes the characters feel really out of place.. ●﹏●;

The only Octonaut OCs I have made are some monsters for my Sea Dwellers AU, and maybe I’ll make some unseen family members of the Octonauts? But that’s as far as I’ll go. No made up crew members for me.

#octonauts #my response #octonauts headcannons

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thisisgonnafuxkinkillme · 3 years

Note

So, you get got writers block eh? How about Toshi being absolutely smitten with the new teacher at UA and has been in love with her stern, hardcore attitude? And then he forces her into dancing with him while he serenades her (or them whatever is fine w/you) and then they date. This lives quite rent free in my head and I'm bad at writing sooo.... Here, it's your problem now.

Coming riggghtttt up!

Violet Enigma

Toshinori Yagi x F! Teacher! Reader

Warnings: mentions of chronic illness (very very subtle), and that’s really it

Not many things have absolutely stopped All Might in his tracks. No, he's well used to seeing the usual gore and violence, the high stakes, the horrific circumstances. None of them have ever made him pause, not even for a moment.

But when she walked into the office, her heels clicking against the tile, he nearly tripped over his own feet.

She didn't notice, of course. She was much too busy staring straight ahead, cooly.

That was until her eyes caught his. In that moment, time stood totally still. It was almost as if, no, it couldn't be.

Her eyes seemed to flash purple.

But no, he assured himself, it was surely a trick of the light.

He could scarcely blink before her gaze was back to her target and she seemingly forgot all about him.

...

"Hey, uh... Who's that lady?" Toshinori whispered, cradling a cup of tea. Aizawa lazily pressed some buttons on the microwave, heating up last night's pizza.

"What lady? How can I possibly know who you're talking about?" He yawned.

Toshinori flushed at the realization that, in fact, not everyone had her image permanently implanted in their minds.

"You know...the one with the... hair? And the, uh...the new one?"

Aizawa sighed, thinking for a moment.

" I think that's y/n," he replied, plopping himself down next to his coworker.

"Thanks," muttered Toshinori. Just as he took a sip of his tea, an unfamiliar voice filled his ears.

"What's got you so curious about me, sir?" The woman asked. She was carrying a clipboard, scribbling something.

The blond had nothing to say. He was so shocked by her presence that he could just stare for a moment.

She sighed, biting the tip of her pen.

"Do you know where room number 512 is?" She asked, not even looking up from her work. Toshinori sighed in relief of her changing the subject.

"Its upstairs and to the right."

"Thank you, Mister...?"

"Toshinori. Or Yagi. Or...um...well, nevermind. Aren't you going to eat something?"

"I will. Just not right now. I've got a lot to get done, Mr. 'Nevermind.' "

And like that, she was gone.

...

The following day, Ms. Y/N entered the office once again, her pristine outfit looking as fresh as a pressed uniform.

She paused for a moment upon seeing All Might in his muscular form, however.

"I don't believe we've met," she mumbled, "You may refer to me as Ms. Y/N. And yourself?"

He subconsciously looked down.

"I'm All Might. Haven't you... seen me before?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"I can't say I have. I don't watch television. What's your real name?" She asked skeptically. For a moment, it almost looked like her eyes flashed again.

"Well, uh, you see-".

"It's fine. Do you know when the next meeting is being held, Mr... Sir?"

.....

At lunch, she was no where to be seen, as always.

Usually, Yagi would make himself comfortable in the staff room with a cup of tea and a book.

Today, though, he'd decided to find her.

He aimlessly wandered the now empty halls, passing rooms where classes were being held, the ever noisy lunchroom, peeking into each open door in an attempt to spot her.

Miss Enigma. That's what she goes by as a pro hero. But, she's not the type of hero you'd see get the credit. She'd much rather work alongside a group, blending into the background, and staying subtle.

He found that name quite fitting for her, though.

Especially because he didn't even know what her damn quirk was. No one did.

Finally, he reached the computer lab all the way at the end of the hall. The lights were off, which would usually signal that no one was in there, but based off of the rapid clicking of keys, someone had definitely snuck in there.

Probably a student. Kids like Shinsou and Deku would usually hide themselves here during lunch, getting their homework done in leiu of eating.

Upon opening the door though, he quickly realized that he was wrong.

It was her.

She jumped, startled terribly by the unwanted interupption. She quickly regained her composure as she turned around.

"What are you doing here, mister?" She asked, her eyebrow raised.

"I can ask you the same," he retorted with a small, semi confident smirk.

She sighed.

"Why does it concern you?"

Toshinori's face grew pink, embarassment growing in his chest, suffocating him.

"Uh, I...um, I j-just-"

"I'm busy. You may speak to me later," she stated, spinning around to face the screen once again. Yagi stood there for a moment in shock before closing the door and doing as she wished: leaving her alone.

He did not look for her, though. Her merciless tone was enough to slice him to the bone. He didn't want to hear any more.

It was right after classes ended when he was on his way to his dorm. He passed room 512, Ms. Y/N's class, and as he passed the room, he paused, hearing her scolding a student.

"There was absolutely no reason for you to earn this grade in my class, young man. None. You can do so much better than this."

"B-but, it was a 96," whimpered the boy. He couldn't see exactly who it was, but he could tell by his warbled tone it was Young Midorya.

Isn't a 96 good though?

She sighed.

"It was a silly mistake you made. It could have been 100. Listen, I know the kind of student you are. You're smart. You should be competing with students like Iida, who earned a 102."

She continued to speak, but Toshi had heard enough. He was exhausted as it is, but hearing something so silly as that just exacerbated it.

...

The next morning, a stiff hand squeezed his shoulder as he sipped his coffee.

He looked up, wide eyed, meeting Y/N's steely gaze.

"I didn't see you yesterday. Didn't you wish to speak with me?" She asked.

"Oh, uh...it was nothing, really," he stammered out, looking down. She squinted her eyes.

"That feels like it's not entirely true. Either way, I will be available for a...chat... If that's what you were hoping for, this lunch period. If you'd like," she offered, her hand still on his shoulder.

"Really?" He squeaked, his shyness peaking through. She nodded silently before delicately seating herself at her desk.

It took centuries, but finally, lunch period arrived.

And so did she.

Before Toshinori even had the chance to get up to find her, she was standing at his desk.

"Are you ready?" She asked, holding a lunch bag in each hand.

He nodded. In response, y/n handed him one of the bags.

"You never eat anything. It's not healthy, you know."

He chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah, I've survived a lot worse."

"...Like?"

"Well, I'd rather not say. Not...now, at least," he scratched the back of his head, praying that she'd change the subject.

She didn't. Instead, she simply stared blankly at him.

"Where are you taking me, anyways?" He asked. He internally screamed as he waited for her to use that to spark a conversation.

"I don't like being around people. We could go to the library, or my dorm, or your dorm, or anywhere where it can just be you and I."

He nodded.

"L-lets just go to your dorm," he mumbled, realizing his was quite in a state of dissarray at the moment.

She nodded.

The walk was pleasent enough. As pleasent as a near silent walk could be.

One thing about Ms. Enigma is that everything she does, no matter how seemingly miniscule, is done with a sense of urgent purpose. Her eyes are always fixed upon some sort of goal, and each with each breath, she is calculating her next move carefully.

It helped her be an efficient, yet stern teacher, but a hard person to chat with.

Finally, the pair reached her dorm. Number 111.

The door opened to reveal an utterly spotless bed and kitchenette, surrounded by piles and piles of books, scribbled notes, calculators, and empty soda cans. She stepped over the piles gracefully, scarcely looking down, while Toshinori carefully tip toed around every discarded item in order to avoid damaging a single item.

Frankly, he feared what a scolding from her would comprise of for him.

She sat herself onto her bed, cris crossing her legs. He, on the other hand, took his place at the kitchenette.

The silence was unbearable.

“So, um...what did you wanna chat about, Enigma?” he muttered.

Pushing up her glasses with one finger, she replied plainly, “You tell me, Yagi.”

He shrugged.

“Eat,” she ordered.

Captured by her spell, he obeyed her, eating the food she’d prepared. It was a humble little meal, one that she’d surely planned out, and was in a word, delicious.

Thankfully, the silence changed from an uncomfortable one to one that he would be content with curling up and living in for quite a while.

...

After that day, Y/N would always be somewhere near Toshinori during lunch period. Whether it be in the same room, or right next to him, she was there.

She usually was hard at work or silently eating. That didn’t mean, though, that she wouldn’t urge him to eat something. He’d find small lunches made up for him at his desk on days where she wasn’t there, and on days she was, she’d silently pause every once in awhile to glare at him if he hadn’t eaten.

Despite that seemingly caring action, though, she didn’t seem at all interested in the blond. He didn’t attempt to flirt, or anything that could possibly elicit a raised eyebrow, but that was simply because he felt as if he couldn’t.

What if she rejected him?

I mean, she works right across from him. They see eachother every single day.

It’d be hell.

But...

What if she didn’t?

...

“Alright, we need a couple chaperones for the spring semester dance. Who’s up for it?” Aizawa asked boredly. Miss Midnight and Present Mic raised their hands excitedly.

“Alright, I’ve got you both down. I need two more.”

“I’ll do it,” offered Y/N. The entire conference room grew quiet for a moment.

“You do realize that you can’t give out detention slips at a dance, right?” Hizashi scoffed.

“I am aware of that, sir. Are you aware of the existance of an ‘inside voice’?” she gritted with condecention seeping through her teeth.

He put his hands up, indicating that she’d won that particular battle.

“I’m free on that night, too,” Toshinori added. His comment broke through the thick silence that had fell onto the room.

“Thank you, A- ahem, Toshinori,” Aizawa nodded, penning the final name down.

After the meeting, Y/N was the final one to leave, alongside Toshinori.

“You know, there’s gonna be a lot of people there on that dance,” he whispered.

“I know. Maybe I’d like that. You seem like you do,” she replied, a tiny smile pulling at the edges of her lips. No one else would’ve noticed it, but after spending so many monotone days with her, he recognized the new expression instantly.

“I don’t, particularly. But...”

“But?”

“Nothing. It’s...nothing.”

“If you say so, Mister. I’ll see you then,” she allowed herself to smile as she once again, left him in silence.

...

That week passed by without much issue. There was the usual ruckus coming from class 1-A, but nothing too serious.

The night had arrived. Just outside his dorm, he could hear the clamour of excited chatter coming from students on their way to the gymnasium.

He sighed, tying a red tye around his neck, a nice contrast against his suit.

He hadn't exactly planned on dressing like this, but upon realizing that he didn't have anything less fancy than this and more fancy than what he usually wore to work, he settled on being a little extraordinary.

As soon as he exited the dorm and was greeted with the wave of students pushing past each other in the halls, he knew he'd made a mistake.

"Oof! Oh, hey, um...?" Midoriya squeaked, pressed against the wall and cramped. He’d caught himself before he called him by his hero name, but his real name slipped his mind at that exact moment.

"Toshinori. What is it, my boy?" He smiled, ruffling the boy's messy hair.

"Uh, I dunno, I don't usually do stuff like this. Are... Why are you wearing that? Isn't it a little fancy?"

Toshinori blushed instantly.

"Oh my God. Who is it?" Izuku squealed excitedly, cursing himself for forgetting a pen to take some notes.

"Geez, kid, keep it down a little, won'tcha? It-she-"

"She?!"

"Single file line or none of you will be attending tonight's dance," stated a voice that ascended effortlessly above the crowd's noisiness.

Instantly, everyone calmed down and began to form a line, neatly making their way to the gym.

Toshinori closed his door as he whisked the boy away, urging him to go have a good time, and to 'enjoy being young while you can.'

It was merely seconds after he was standing alone, against the wall, waiting for the crowd to die down as he noticed her.

Y/N had been standing there for quite a few minutes, in the same position as he, and just about 4 feet away.

It was hard for him to believe that he'd missed her. The dress she'd worn was absolutely more extravagant than any gown he'd seen in an event like this. It was sparkly and red, reflecting every ounce of light that hit it from all directions. It accentuated her body beautifully and perfectly fit.

In short, she was stunning.

"My, my. You sure do look nice today," she grinned.

He nodded dumbly. He was just about as red as the dress she was wearing.

Finally, it was time for them to make their ways to the dance.

"Are you ready for this?" She asked.

"I hope so," he replied, toying with his tie.

...

Music boomed in Y/N's and Toshinori's ears, accompanied by dealing with the antics of goofball teenagers and breaking up silly fights.

Once things began to calm down quite a bit, Y/N approached Toshinori, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and leaning in close to his ear.

"Meet me on the rooftop," she whispered before dissapearing into the crowd.

So, he did.

She sat near the edge, staring into the inky violet sky.

Toshinori took his place next to her, handing her a much needed bottle of water.

She thanked him before turning to him with a deep sigh.

"There's something I'd like to tell you," she mumbled. For the first time, she actually looked nervous.

Taking a sip of the water, she continued, "You know, I never really do things like this. You've probably gathered that by...my nature. But, I must admit, you are one person I can't seem to get off of my mind. And, well, frankly...I like you, Toshinori. To quite a degree."

He blinked, slack jawed, shaking his head.

“How could someone like you like someone like me?

“Good question. I like you because you're...well, I suppose I don't really know. You're just you, and that's what I like about you. Plus, I know you’ve done so much for so many people. Why dont you like you?”

He paused, his heart absolutely seizing at that for more than one reason.

"Oh! I suppose I should tell you about my quirk. But...I expect full confidentiality from you. Essentially, I can find out one's secrets by looking at them. Surely, you've seen me activate it before."

He nodded, covering his mouth.

"W-what do you...know?"

"Don't worry, not much. I respect you too much to dig that deep. All I know is that, in some point of your life, you were probably some type of hero. All I know, is that in your life time, you've saved many lives, and touched countless others. As to why you'd want that to be a secret, I have no idea. But, I do find it interesting," she explained.

"What do you do with the secrets you know, then?" He asked, his voice still pinched with fear that his secret could be compromised.

"With yours? Nothing. I have no friends to share it with, and not enough details or desire to post about it online. Frankly, I don't give a damn about who you used to be. I care about who you are. Your secret will always be safe with me."

He sighed deeply. It wasn’t as if no one was aware of his secret; plenty of people knew. But the more people who did, the higher at risk the school, as well as the students and staff, were placed at.

Plenty of people,too, wanted him dead. Even being retired, he is still considered a threat to villians across the globe, thanks to his notorious acts of heroism throughout the decades. With him in his sickly, weakened state, he’d be easy to assasinate, and the people who would go that far wouldn’t be opposed to taking others down with him.

He...couldn’t have that.

So, before Y/N was scheduled to begin work, it was decided that she’d be left in the dark about his identity, as well as any newcoming staff from thenon out. It’d be safer that way.

Her eyes dreamily stared off into the infinate stars as she silently pondered on what to say next.

“Would you like to know the rest?” he asked. His voice shook a little, causing her to look at him.

She nodded.

“I’m All Might.” “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding!” giggles y/n, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I’m pathetic,” he sighes. He rubbed his forehead, looking away ashamedly.

“No, no! I mean, I can’t believe I didn’t see it earlier! I mean, you guys do look pretty similar.”

He shrugs.

“I’m serious! Plus, I mean, it’s kind of obvious now that you mention it. I mean, I guess you guys do wear the same clohtes to work everyday, and I haven’t seen you two in the same room before, so yeah, I can definiately see it,” she paused, her eyes growing wide and her cheeks bright red.

“God, I’ve probably said ‘Good morning’ to you and...er...you, twice every day. Why’d you let me do that like a fool?!” she teased, play punching him in the arm.

He laughed, absolutely relieved that she didn’t ridicule him for how he’d taken care of his body for the past few years. It seemed that her attitude had completely changed from the one he’d known for so long, but in a good way.

In a happy way.

She stood up, still smiling, “We need to go back to the dance, Mister. We have a duty, you know.”

“Oh, I know. I’m well aware. You can almost hear the music all the way up here, can’t you?”

She nodded, walking towards the door to the stairs. He grabbed her by the arm before she could escape, though, and leave him alone with his thoughts and hopes and dreams like she had so many times.

“You... you didn’t get my answer,” he breathed, pulling her in. She raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“What exactly- oh!”

The music from downstairs was slow, romantic, and jovial. Perfect for this moment.

He gently took her other hand, guiding her into a dance.

“I-I can’t...I don’t know how to dance, Mr. Yagi,” she mumbled, looking up at him.

“I’ll teach you. Just follow my lead,” he smiled back.

And just like that, the Enigma was gone, leaving just Y/N in her place. She was no longer an Enigma, but rather a glimmer of what he’d never gotten a chance to be: in love.

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ga-yuu · 3 years

Text

~Yoshitsune~Main Story Chapter 4~

Warning! This story has strong language and attempted rape.

Chapter 3

------Part 1------

Yoritomo: “Don’t forget I’m a man who killed his own brother.”

I was horrified, but at the same time, I felt like something connected in my head....

(Ah.....!)

-------FLASHBACK------

Yoshitsune: "But...contradictions are in all of us. I've only known one person who could cut it out and throw it away."

-----FLASHBACK ENDS-----

(Maybe he was....)

(Wasn't it Yoritomo-sama that Yoshitsune-sama was talking about....?)

Yoritomo: "Well...we're almost done, aren't we? I'll let you know about the job."

Yoshino: "Ah, yes...! Thank you."

I stopped thinking and bowed to Yoritomo-sama.

(At any rate, I think I've moved on a bit, right?)

This is how my new life started changing-----

Kagetoki: "Now, Yoshino. I want you to check and sort those scrolls like how I taught you yesterday."

Yoshino: "Got it!"

(Let's do our best to help today.)

Under Kagetoki-san's direction, who is mainly responsible for the internal affairs of the Shogunate...

For the last few days, I've been doing simple chores such as sorting out paperwork and recording meetings.

(I have to be careful not to make any mistakes, or I'll have to face the wrath of stoic Kagetoki-san!)

I nervously unrolled the scroll on my desk.

The scroll he had given was a record of the number of human resources and provisions needed for the battle against Yoshitsune-sama.

Yoshino: "We need so many rations...."

Kagetoki-san, who was sitting opposite me, reacted to the words I blurted out.

Kagetoki: "Because this war is bigger than ever. We need to scrounge from the ranks and make sure we have plenty."

(And yet, so much detail has been calculated....)

The scrolls also contain a detailed list of the number of soldiers for the supply convoy.

(I can't believe we need so many people just to carry the rations!)

Yoshino: "It's not easy to fight a war, is it?"

Kagetoki: "It's natural. It's not just about fighting. If we run out of food on the way, our men's lives will be in danger. We have to make sure we have the right people and the right routes to get the food to the people, and then we have to work out the tactics. But of course, we also need information about the enemy."

Yoshino: It's like the preparation stage has already started...."

Kagetoki: "Yes. We can't afford any delays or lapses in judgment."

(I see, one wrong move and many lives will be lost...)

Kagetoki-san's words always sound harsh, but when you hear him talk like this, you get a different impression.

(That's how deeply he thinks about the Shogunate, and that's why Kagetoki-san won't compromise.)

Kagetoki: "What's wrong? Why are you staring?"

Yoshino: "No, nothing...I'll call you when I'm done."

I quickly returned to my work.

About a moment later-----

Morinaga: "I see you're working hard, Yoshino."

Tamamo: "I've brought you a reward."

Yoshino: "Oh! Hi Morinaga-san, Tamamo."

(Did you guys come here to check on me...!)

Tamamo and Morinaga-san came to me with a small furoshiki in their hand.

Kagetoki-san kept his gaze fixed on the scroll and said a few words back to them.

Kagetoki: "No food and drinks are allowed in the library."

Tamamo: "Don't be so strict Kagetoki. Look, we went around Kamakura's best shops to buy these sweets."

Yoshino: "You went around Kamakura you buy this, Tamamo?"

Tamamo: "I went to my favorite sweet shops, so I thought I would share some with you."

Yoshino: "You already have favorites!?"

(Not even a week has passed since we arrived in Kamakura.)

Tamamo: "Because it is important to create the ground to live happily. Confectioners, restaurants, dressmakers... Oh, and I've recently made friends in the gambling house."

Yoshino: "Gambling house....?"

(Did you make too many connections this quickly!)

Kagetoki: "You're responsible for that, isn't it? Morinaga. Please refrain from taking questionable creatures to questionable places."

------Part 2------

Kagetoki: "Please refrain from taking questionable creatures to questionable places."

Tamamo: "How dare you call this beautiful nine-tail fox a questionable creature."

Next to the pouting Tamamo, Morinaga-san laughed happily.

Morinaga: "Tamamo is good at betting and it's also fun to hang around with him."

Tamamo: "Don't let his appearance fool you, Yoshino. Morinaga has a bad habit too."

(Morinaga-san loves gambling. That's surprising!)

Kagetoki: "What a troublesome duo."

In a matter-of-fact manner, Kagetoki-san removed the scroll from his desk.

Kagetoki: "I heard you brought sweets, take it out. Yoshino. Let's take a break."

(Hm? I thought you said food and drinks are not allowed in the library.)

Yoshino: "Do you like sweets?"

Tamamo: "It's the height of unexpectedness. I thought you had a spitfire personality."

Kagetoki: "It's not like I have a sweet tooth. Sweets help my brain to work better. It increases my work efficiency."

Yoshino: "That's your reasoning!?"

Kagetoki-san says that with a straight face.

(He's serious. It's so typical of Kagetoki-san...)

Kagetoki: "Let's not waste any more time."

(What's the...!)

He opened the furoshiki to reveal the lovely pile of camellia cakes.

Kagetoki-san piled them up on his plate without a care in the world.

Yoshino: "Isn't that too much?"

Kagetoki: "It's my normal intake."

(.....Then how much do you eat when you're starving?)

Kagetoki: "I stop my work for the moment, so could take in all the sugar at once."

Yoshino: "Errmm??"

Tamamo: "Please leave some for us too."

Tamamo complains as he takes his seat next to Morinaga-san.

Kagetoki: "You're an extravagant fox, aren't you. If you insist I'd be happy to share some of my starch syrup."

Tamamo: "...What am I going to do with your starch syrup?"

Tamamo's eyes narrowed in an unusually wary way.

Kagetoki: "The more you eat it, the more sugary it becomes. The flavors change and you'll never get bored of it."

Yoshino: "So extreme!"

Morinaga: "That's Kagetoki for you."

(Morinaga-san is so generous to put it in those words...)

Tamamo: "Kagetoki, don't you dare ruin my sweets with your starch syrup!"

Just as Tamamo takes out the contents of his furoshiki, we heard someone's footsteps.

Shigehira: "I was wondering why the library is so noisy. It was you guys."

(Shigehira-san!)

Tamamo: "Oh Shigehira. Did you follow the smell?"

Shieghira: "Of course not! I just came to return this book I borrowed..."

Shigehira-san who was holding a book in his hand looked at the desk and his eyes widened.

Shigehira: "...! Mountain of camellia cakes?"

(Nice reaction!)

Morinaga: "That's Kagetoki's plate."

Shigehira: "Yeah....to increase his work efficiency or something."

Kagetoki: "You came at the right time. I'll share some with you too."

Shigehira: "No, I have work, so-----"

Morinaga: "It's okay to take a small break. Come, sit here."

Shigehira: "Ah...!!"

Morinaga-san smiles and puts his hands on Shigehira-san's shoulders and forced him to sit down.

Tamamo: "We have enough sweets for you too."

Morinaga: "Eat as much as you like."

Shigehira: "Don't treat me like a child. Like I said, I only came here to return this book."

With two grown-ups on either side, Shigehira-san sighed as if he had given up.

Then, our eyes meet and he gives me a slightly pouting look.

Shigehira: "Just so you know, I didn't bring any sweets for you."

Yoshino: "No, no, no. I don't mind."

(But I'm happy that you still came....)

Tamamo: "Let's eat."

------Part 3-------

Tamamo: "Let's eat."

Yoshino: "Yes! Thank you for the food."

Tamamo neatly plated the sweets for everyone.

My eyes sparkled seeing the camellia cakes and puff pastry.

(Everything looks delicious!)

When I ate one of the camellia cakes, the gentle sweetness filled my mouth.

Yoshino: "It's really delicious!!"

Kagetoki: "I see. This is from the nearest sweet shop. You can get it from there if you like."

Yoshino: "It's cool how you can easily tell the shop's name just by eating them..."

(So sharp!)

While I was impressed, Tamamo presents me with another plate.

Tamamo: "Here Yoshino, try these too. Made with the finest ingredients, the baker said he had been making these for decades."

Yoshino: "Thanks!"

When I ate mochi-----

Yoshino: "This is so yummy!!!"

Tamamo: "Isn't it? His store makes the finest sweets."

Yoshino: "Hehe...You really love to eat, don't you?"

Tamamo: "Unlike humans, we demons don't need food for nutrition....I just eat for pleasure. The more delicious the food is, the more it will entertain my mouth. Let me take you there next time, Yoshino."

Yoshino: "Really? I'll be looking forward to it."

(I heard so many things about Kamakura and that there are many places to visit.)

Yoshino: "Also...I'm really amazed how you're already used to Kamakura, Tamamo."

Tamamo shook his head when I pouted in jealousy.

Tamamo: "But I heard you are getting along with the soldiers here."

Yoshino: "Eh? What...?"

Morinaga: "That's true. Lately, you have been treating the injured soldiers after their training."

(Of course, it's a part of my work.)

I was surprised and blinked my eyes.

Shigehira: "...I heard that there's usually a fight in the training hall over who gets the treatment first."

Yoshino: "Why is that?"

(I didn't know that at all...!)

Kagetoki: "Such a barren dispute."

Morinaga: "Maybe because it's always been groups of men there and we never had a girl come near the training hall before. Well...since they're so eager to get treated by you, they didn't even mind doing my extra training sessions."

Yoshino: "..Morinaga-san, your smile is a little scary."

(Morinaga-san's training is famous for being unforgiving...though he looks kind.)

Yoshino: "There's only so much I can do to help, and I'm not doing too much."

Tamamo: "But there's been an increase in orders for your medicines in the Imperial Palace, right?"

Yoshino: "That's right, but..."

Thankfully, as I worked in the Imperial Palace, I got to know more people and they started to call me when they needed medicine.

(I'm not going to have my own shop until after I've broken my contract with Tamamo, but...)

(I'm so happy to be able to work as a pharmacist in this way!)

Shigehira: "Also..."

Shigehira-san talks while eating his mochi. (I found a typo here, they wrote 重衡くん(Shigehira-kun) instead of 重衡さん(Shigehira-san) MC doesn't call him Shigehira-kun until much later in the chapters)

Shigehira: "I don't understand how can you overwork like crazy when you have to face an even bigger nightmare, the great war."

Yoshino: "Well, I...."

Shigehira: "I don't get you at all. You have a very nice pharmacist job for a living...then why do you offer yourself to help Kagetoki-san with his work."

Kagetoki: "Unfortunately, I have the tendency to use any resource useful for my work."

Morinaga smiled brightly at Kagetoki-san's remarks.

Morinaga: "Ohh? So you think Yoshino is useful?"

Kagetoki: "Of course."

(Ah....)

I blushed at the unexpected compliment.

(Especially when I first started working, I didn't know what I was doing and I caused a lot of trouble for Kagetoki-san...)

Kagetoki: "She didn't run away after knowing the terrors of war. She's got a lot of guts."

Shigehira and Tamamo: "..............."

Yoshino(blushing): "!!!"

Morinaga: "There are many vassals whose hearts are broken by Kagetoki's harshness."

Kagetoki: "If they're not good at anything, I don't find them worthful."

Tamamo: "Can't you be a bit more proper in your praise?"

Morinaga: "We hoped for the same thing. But it's too much for Kagetoki."

-------Part 4------

Morinaga: "We hoped for the same thing. But it's too much for Kagetoki."

(Yeah...I guess I'll consider it a bit of an acknowledgment.)

Yoshino: "Thank you very much, Kagetoki-san."

Kagetoki: "I don't need to be thanked. I'm going to keep on using you and you're going work hard for me."

Yoshino: "......I'll do my best, so please be gentle."

My heart was feeling warm when I returned the words.

(It would be nice to get to know the people of the Shogunate a little better in this way.)

Even if it's just helping out a little.

It was now beginning to dawn on me that all the samurai were going into battle with conviction.

Shigehira: *munch munch munch*

Tamamo: "Can I ask you something, Shigehira?"

Shigehira: "Hm?"

Tamamo: "You came here to check on Yoshino to make sure that she's not being bullied by Kagetoki, isn't it?"

Shigehira(blushing): "No...I.."

(Really?)

Shigehira: "Ahem, like I said earlier, I came here to return this book. Then, she just happened to be here."

Tamamo: "Really? But I noticed you searching for Yoshino a while ago."

(No way!?)

Shigehira: "You were watching me!?....No, I mean. It was all your imagination."

Morinaga: "Isn't our Shigehira so cute."

Shigehira: "Stop joking! I wasn't----mmf"

(Eeehhh....)

Shigehira-san tried to argue, but Morinaga-san shoved a camellia cake into his mouth.

Morinaga: "Now, be a good boy and eat these sweets."

Shigehira: *munch munch*

With his mouth full, Shigehira-san glanced at Morinaga-san with a pouting look.

Yoshino: "Shigehira-san, are you okay? Here, have some tea."

Shigehira: "...Mm, thanks. Just because you're kind, doesn't mean I approve of you."

Yoshino: "I understand. But...."

(If what Tamamo said was true, I want to thank him for caring about me.)

I turned to Shigehira-san and bowed in gratitude.

Yoshino: "Umm, I'm thankful that you care about me. I took the job at the Imperial Palace for myself, and I haven't achieved any good results yet...But, I'm glad that I've been able to get closer to you all through my work recently!"

Shigehira(blushing): "....Erm well.."

Yoshino: "I really am!"

I can clearly see that Shigehira-san is blushing till his ears were red.

Tamamo: "You're looking like you're having a good time."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. I am (+4/+4)

2. Do you think so?

3. Not quite yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoshino: "I am."

(I think I'm starting to think a bit more clearly.)

(I wonder if...now I could give a different answer than before.)

(But......)

Ironically, it was my greatest enemy, Yoshitsune-sama, who gave me the opportunity to change.

(Next time when we meet on the battlefield, I must make up my mind properly before then.)

..........

And so few days goes by-----

Late afternoon, I was walking down the hallway, after finishing my work. Then I saw maids passing by.

Maid 1: "Are you going to the festival, tonight?"

Maid 2: "Of course! My boyfriend asked me out and I'm looking forward to it."

(Festival....Oh yeah! I forgot it was tonight.)

(Since I have nothing much to do, let's go and enjoy the festival.)

..................

(Wow...!!)

I was walking around the streets of Kamakura, listening to the festival music.

Lanterns hung from the eaves and the front of the stalls were crowded with people.

(It's just fun to simply walk around like this.)

(I first thought to bring someone with me....)

------Part 5------

(I first thought to bring someone with me....)

(But I made plans on the spot and others didn't have time...)

(They're all busy preparing for the upcoming war.)

As walked across the busy street, the smell of food from the stalls tickled my nose.

(It's still early in the evening, so I'll buy something. Let's see....)

Then I went to some food stalls and bought some dumplings.

(I'm a bit tired....)

I walked through the crowd and before I knew it, I ended at the back of a shrine.

(I didn't want to fall down and get injured in the big crowd.)

When I was trying to get back to the entrance-----

Wild Samurai 1: "Hey hey, what are you doing here alone?"

Wild samurai 2: "It's the festival night and you're all alone. How about we give you some company?"

(What? Who are these people...?)

Suddenly a rough voice called out to me from the darkness and I was surrounded by several men.

(I can see you guys have swords hanging of your waist....must be some wild samurai...)

Wild samurai 3: "We just arrived in Kamakura and we don't have anyone to play with."

(What should I do...)

Yoshino: "Sorry...But I'm here with someone."

I bowed my head lightly and tried to escape but....

Wild samurai 1: "Come on, there's nothing to be scared of, is there?"

Wild samurai 2: "We wanted to help you since we thought you were lost."

Yoshino: "No, thank you."

One of them roughly grabbed my hand and pulled me back.

Yoshino: "Let go!"

I tried to shake his hands off, but it didn't budge.

Wild samurai 2: "Worry not. We'll be gentle."

Yoshino: "NO! HELP! SOMEONE!!!"

Just when I was about to be dragged behind the bushes----

???: "You're very cruel for taking advantage of festivities to violently attack women."

A quiet voice echoed from somewhere.

(Eh....?)

Wild samurai 1: "Huh? Who the fuck are you?"

The very next moment, a figure jumps from the top of the tree.

???: "Look here."

Yoshino: "Ah----"

Someone pulled my arm and he punched one of the wild samurai right on the chest.

When I was confused and looked up-----

(Is that a fox mask...?)

The mysterious man wearing a fox mask distanced me from the wild samurai and stepped forward to protect me.

Wild samurai 1: "Who are you!?"

???: "You're not worthy of hearing my name."

Wild samurai 2: "Don't fuck with us! That woman is ours!"

Yoshino: "Be careful!"

All of them drew their swords and attacked the mysterious man.

(No....!!)

???: "I promised myself that I won't. But it can't be helped. Now die."

The mysterious man pulled out his own sword, which flashed-----

Wild samurai 1: "Gwaaa...."

Immediately several swords were blown off...

Yoshino: "Wow....."

(Oh!....I remember this ferociousness.)

(Not only that, his voice is so familiar.)

(No way! It can't be...but.)

The mysterious man stepped forward casually as the samurai were jerked back.

Wild samurai 2: "Tch, we'll leave you both for now!"

One of them, who seems to be the leader, raised his voice and the rest of them started following him.

After that, everything became so quiet and the mysterious man turned his back on me.

(No wait, don't go!)

Yoshino: "Umm....Yoshitsune-sama?"

???: "........"

When I called out the name of the mysterious man, he looked back and took off his mask----

Yoshitsune: "How did you find out?"

Chapter 5

#ikemen series #ikemen genjiden #ikemen genjiden yoshitsune #ikemen mc #otome #cybird #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #main story translations

25 notes · View notes

jay-and-dean · 4 years

Text

More like him

Dean x reader

So I had this request :

I loved it, but it was a real challenge because I thing it wouldn’t be really “Dean like” to go on a diet. It took me months to manage to be satisfied by it. I really hope you like it. Oh, and I added a little Smut, couldn’t help it.

For me this fic is kinda part of the Become that Girl “saga”.

Warning : Swearing. Sassy Sam. Suffering and mentions of unhealthy behaviors and drinking. Jealous Dean. Insecurities. Smut. Unprotected sex (you’re smarter than this). Angst. Fluffy Fluff.

This is both in Reader’s Pov and Dean’s Pov

Words : 10.3 k (yes. You asked for it.)

Jay’s MASTERLIST

Dean’s Pov

A grunt and a yawn. I turn around, a little pain in my neck from sleeping on the same position for hours.

I drank too much last night, again. My arm blindly searches for a bottle of water in the deep dark of my windowless room to fight the intense dry feeling in my mouth, but I find nothing.

“Shit.”

One more night in a shady bar, one more hangover, and one more woman I won’t remember.

Woman…

I frown with my eyes still closed and think of her, my stomach gets sick. She was among the prettiest girl I have been with, and she was a little too young for me, I’m sure she wasn’t twenty-five yet. I remember her friends, young and fit boys and girls, celebrating a birthday.

It’s really something how you see things differently when you’re drunk and when you are not. Maybe that’s why I drink so much : the sober truth gives me the creeps. Yesterday, I was feeling lucky, honored that a beautiful woman had laid her eyes on me, amazed by how confident she was. It felt like I had won the lottery of life, sex life at least. I was on top of the world, I could barely walk straight, but I didn’t care.

This morning is different. I lay here, nausea making me sweat, disgusted by my own smell and the taste in my mouth, wondering how I came home. I drove Baby drunk like Hell, I could have hurt someone, or damaged her.

“Shit” I grunt again.

How pathetic it is to go look for a college girl to feel alive ? How pathetic it is to spend the whole time we spent together too focused on trying not to be too old or too drunk to actually enjoy any of it ? How pathetic it is to think of another woman, the very second my eyes open ?

I need coffee.

I get up and make my way to the bathroom to pee and take a shower, I can’t stand the smell on me : alcohol sweat, the detergent of the cheap motel room I took not to bring her to our secret home, and, well, shame.

After brushing my teeth, I drink all I can from the sink and wonder if she is here. I really hope she is.

Y/n.

The woman I call my friend. The person that have actually been my closest friend with Benny and Cas, maybe even closer. If she’s in the kitchen, she will make fun of me, she will make loud pan noises just to make my headache worse because she says hangover is not enough punishment for hurting my body like that. But in the end, she will probably order pizzas and spend the day with me in the Dean cave not really watching movies while talking about any kind of stuff from hunts to music, from social matters to memories, food -she talks about food a lot, with sparkles in her eyes-, movies, sharks during shark week, horror movie clichés, her childhood, mine, and really intimate things like Hell, Purgatory, like my mom, her dad, our dreams...

I didn’t know I had so much dreams.

I put on underwear and the grey robe, then shuffle my way to the kitchen in the slippers that makes her call me grandpa.

Sam is there. All energetic, dressed with those black sweatpants and this ridiculously tight shirt, he's pressing oranges or whatever, and it's noisy as hell.

"Can't you be quite in the morning ?" I groan with a pained frown, sitting with my coffee in front of me.

"Morning ? It's noon, Dean. So, how was last night ? I guess it must have been great considering how late you came back."

"You heard me come back ?" I ask, wondering how late it actually was.

"No, but Y/n waited for you, and around five a.m. she thought you weren't coming home at all, so she went to bed. That's why we haven't been running yet, she barely slept."

I look at him but he's now turning his back on me to fill a bottle with water.

She has to stop doing that, waiting for me. I told her a few times already but it's like she was a worried mom or something. Y/n is always like that, she worries too much, every cut on Sam or me is a mortal wound, every yawn is a sign of exhaustion. And even if I secretly love this way more than I'll ever admit, I can't let her wait for me all night.

"Hey Dean" her voice catches my attention and I turn to meet her tired eyes.

How can she smile like that after the night she had ? How can she give me that kind smile? I really don't deserve it. I'm disgusting, damaged, violent even... Look at her.

She walks in and I can't help but drift along her naked legs, strong and soft. She's wearing her working out shorts, the ones torturing me some days, those tiny grey shorts holding her waist, that makes it impossible to not linger on her thighs. The t-shirt she wears is one of mine, or was, since she never gave it back. It's a plain back worn out t-shirt that has really nothing special. She says it's the comfiest.

"Hangover ?" she asks, handing me a slice of her apple.

"Yeah" I grunt, taking it.

I don't like rabbit food and she knows it. So instead of telling me to eat some, like Sam constantly tried for a while, she just gives me little bites of hers. A piece of apple there, a bite of banana, a little of spinach on her fork... and I always let her feed me, maybe just because she does with that adorable kind of smile each time.

"You came back late" she states, turning her back on me.

There is not an ounce of reproach in her voice, but something slightly sad. Maybe she pities me. If she had seen my evening, she would for sure.

A flash of that girl from yesterday saying my tattoo is weird and old fashion comes to my mind and I rub my face.

"Is there a hunt ?" I ask.

I really need a hunt, I really need some action and to get out of here.

"No" my brother lightly shakes his head.

"I thought I had found one" Y/n adds. "But it turns out it really was a bear this time !"

Her chuckle warms my heart.

"Movies in my room ?" I offer, trying to sound like it doesn't really matter, but the truth is, this perspective is what got me out of bed...

Reader's Pov

I cut another slice of apple with my hunter knife and give it to him.

"Hum, maybe later" I answer, looking away. "Sam and I planned on running to the lake..."

"The lake !" he almost chokes. "It's like twelve miles away !"

Sam chuckles and puts a hand on my shoulder, to inform me he's ready to go. He has been waiting for me a long time already, but I needed to check on Dean before I left for the day.

"Yeah..." I mumble. "And I want to practice my gun skills after, of fight skills if Sammy is not too tired from the running."

"I could help you practice too" he states and I give him a knowing smile.

Dean is not interested in training me, he never was. And, unlike me, he barely needs practice himself anyway, so why should he care ? He's just the best, that's natural. He's Dean Winchester, the best hunter in the world, the best man, the best everything actually. Between the ladies waiting in line to get a piece of him and his friends, the parties, but above all, constantly saving the world... He doesn't have time for me. We're not made of the same wood, I'm from those who have to work hard to keep up. And I never want to be a burden for any of them.

"What ? I could !" he grunts and his brother laughs.

"Yeah right, Dean" Sam mocks him, giving me my bag. "You would probably get a stitch from just stretching with Y/n ! She's getting good !"

"Don't listen to you brother" I assure Dean with a little smile on the corner of my lips.

I walk out of the bunker with Sam's back in front of me and bite my cheek, trying to ignore that sharp pain in my chest.

That pain that fell on me again while I was waiting for him, trying to not imagine what he was doing, that dread burning my guts ; and the other, even worse, pain that kept me awake once I was finally sure of what he was doing.

Once outside, the tall hunter stretches a little, humming at the soft spring breeze.

"Why did you wait again" he finally speaks, earning only a sigh from me. "Y/n... I know you need to make sure he's safe but you're hurting yourself. Talk to him..."

"We already talked about this" I just shrug before I start running.

Dean's Pov

I stay in the kitchen, my heart pounding in my head, my liver struggling.

Of course she won't spend the day with me. Why would she ? She waited all night and I was busy partying like those pathetic guys who didn't understand college is over.

You didn't even went to college...

Sipping at my coffee, I think of my brother’s hand on her shoulder and shiver, not really understanding why. I mean, he’s her friend too, a good friend actually, but something changed lately. They are close, more and more every day.

She used to spend all her time with me and now that I think of it… She does with him now. It started with morning runs, then there were going to the grocery store together. They cooked, Sam never cooked in his life, she taught him a few “healthy” recipes while I was making fun of them. Several times I found them talking until late in the library, or sending each other texts during hunts, when they were apart the whole day.

Maybe I’m missing something coming slow… Maybe the woman I think of the second I open my eyes in the morning thinks of Sam.

Why wouldn’t she ? My brother is better than me in every ways.

Sam is smart and educated, went to college and all. They can probably talk about things I have no idea of…

Sam is brave and fair. He’s the best man I know, and if I think of one man that would deserve a girl like her...

What are you saying ? There is no other girl like her.

But above all… Look at him. He just grew old way better than I did. All those healthy craps I always made fun of, in the end he’s right. While I was drinking beer for breakfast and eating fat crap, he was running, practicing. And yes, during hunts we're equals, because I was raised in this life, but if I had to catch him running, I would have a heart attack before he breaks a sweat.

I never cared about all of this. About having abs, comparing my body to my brother's, or about being healthy for that matters. Because let's be honest, I never really cared about myself. And girls like me…Right ?

Stupid.

What girls though. It was a long time since Cassie, since Lisa... And lately the one-night stands have had a bitter taste.

Sex with stranger was fun at first, for years it was. New body, new voice, new taste, and skin and preferences... I guess a guy feels pride by having sex with a lot of different women. But most of the time it's far from great and I’m tired of starting over every time.

I just wonder how it feels to actually get to know someone intimately, to learn what makes them squirm, their secrets, to wake up next to a friend... Love must be so nice.

The only person I can think of is her, Y/n. The woman that is my friend and the only one I want tell my secrets, the things that make me squirm...

My Y/n.

I grunt, my heart beating too fast because of hangover, my skin still smells alcohol despite the shower.

I'm such a wreck and she's so pure. That woman overcame bad things, and I have seen her so depressed that she barely could move at all for days in the beginning of our friendship. And yet, here she is, smiling, running and dancing in the library at night, making me want to be better every day, to think more, be less self-destructive, to feel pride more than shame. Pride for helping people, pride for my little brother that I helped grow up, and pride for being her friend.

She’s always there, smiling when I need a smile, listening even when I can’t talk, rolled up asleep on a little corner of my bed when I had a night of nightmares. Her hand was in my back when mom betrayed us and chose to leave, like it was the only thing keeping me up…

I can’t imagine her gone, impossible. And I’m realizing, I can’t imagine her in the arms of another man. That’s selfish, but I have to admit it now. I love her. And I want her, I need her.

Yet all I do is pushing her in my brother’s arms. In my brother’s strong and fit arms…

Reader’s Pov

I’m running, my feet hurt and I have a stitch on my left side, my thighs are already sore and my skin and lungs are burning. But I ignore them. I run.

I run to ignore my imagination and the images it brings. Dean laying on his back, giving his precious body to a blond girl that doesn’t even know who he is, how lucky she is. Dean grunting when she swallows around him. Dean grabbing her hair, biting her neck, coming inside her. Dean with two girls, why not…

I run.

“Y/n !” Sam’s voice interrupts me. “Wow, easy tiger.”

Out of breath, he puts his hands on his knees and frowns at me.

“You know the point of all of this is not to faint ? It’s about endurance, not a sprint or a race.”

“I’m sorry, Sam” I sigh, my body screaming at me even more now that I stopped.

“Is this about Dean ?” he asks, making me roll my eyes.

“How running too fast could be about your brother ?” I grunt.

“You know perfectly why I say that” he shrugs, drinking from his water bottle. “Avoiding him won’t prevent the hurt.”

“It avoids the nausea from smelling cheap perfume on him at least…” saying that, I sit on a bench that is close in a huff. “I just…” I sigh, burying my face in my hands. “How do I avoid the hurt then ?”

“Talk to him” my friend says, joining me on the bench to sit next to me, his tall shadow wrapping me like angel wings, hiding me from this world I hate right now.

“Don’t be ridiculous” I scoff. “Hey Dean, could you not have sex with anyone ? It hurts me. Thank you.”

Sam lets out a chuckle and bumps my shoulder with his giant arm.

A woman in an elegant sports outfit runs pass us, her tall form bouncing on her thin legs with grace, making her shiny hair fly. Dean would like her, he would totally sleep with her… Oh wait, we’re in Lebanon, there aren’t many girls that pretty around here, maybe he already did…

“How about ‘I have feelings for you’ ?”Sam suggests with puppy eyes and a childish adorable shrug.

I sigh, rubbing my face. Why doesn’t Sam understand ?

“Yeah so it can make our friendship awkward forever, with pity and shit” I look down at my hands. “Or so he chooses to erase my memory like he did with Lisa ?”

A silence falls between us.

Sam knows what I think of this, how angry it makes me. Of course I don’t want to see him with Lisa, in fact my heart arches each time I think of what they had together, but take those memories from her… It wasn’t his choice to make. I happened to put myself in her shoes and hated it. I would rather long for a single smile from him all my life than being amputated of the only part of me I cherish : My love for him.

The second reason I hate it is because of what it says about him : Dean is really convinced that he is not good enough. For anything, for anyone.

During one of our nights in the Dean cave together, not really watching movies and drinking whiskey, he talked about it. And I know how much Lisa and him were meant to break up eventually. She wasn’t a hunter, and she didn’t really want to know about this life, even if she respected it. He was holding on to her like she was his only chance at happiness because, in his mind, happiness can’t come with the hunter life.

Erasing her memory was not only a way to “protect her”, it was a closure for him. Away of closing the normal life door forever and throw away the key.

“You know he doesn’t think he deserves…” Sam starts but I cut him.

“Don’t.”

I am a hunter. And despite the fact that I am desperately in love with my friend and going crazy with jealousy, I am pretty happy.

I am happy with my life, my heroic, never boring, full of magic life. I mean, they lost a lot, but do they think people with an apple pie life don’t ? Before I became a hunter, I went to so many funerals that the funeral home employees knew me personally before I hit puberty. And when you lose your family to cancer and heart attack, or suicide… You don’t even get to know for sure they’re in Heaven.

But I am a hunter now, and I know. I am relieved and I feel safer, because magic exists, Heaven exists, and angels, even if they are quite different from what I had imagined.

“I just want Dean to be happy” I sigh and Sam’s giant hand rubs my back.

That’s the truth. I wish with all my heart that Dean would realize he can be happy now. That the horror he has been through is over, and that the hunter life he can’t quit doesn’t mean he has to be miserable.

And that is the reason I have to be the best friend I can. That’s the reason I have to swallow that jealousy that is making me bitter, to just love him, as selflessly as I can.

“Can we go home ?” I ask and Sam nods.

Dean’s Pov

I close the bathroom closet and swallow the pill, bending to drink water from the sink, then stand in front of the mirror.

I never really thought of it, but I’m a little pudgy. My hips are not straight and firm, is my butt a little large ? I frown, making my wrinkles appear and sigh. And those freckles… I never really paid attention to them until that college girl said something about it. Something with a kind smile but her mean girl voice betraying her : “I guess it’s cute, but it always kinda look like the skin is dirty, you don’t have too many on the face so it’s okay”. Why do I have so many freckles ? Dad didn’t, mom either I think, not on her face anyway, and Sam… Sam’s skin is darker than mine, and perfectly smooth. Y/n must like that too.

Stop whining like a teen.

I walk to my room and sit there, trying to ignore the voices in my head saying Y/n likes my brother. Does he like her too ?

I take my headphones and turn the music on loud, closing my eyes, too bad for the headache, the silence is worse anyway.

I’m in Hell, tied up like Alastair used to chain me, but I’m not hurt. Sam enters and points his finger at me.

“You will never be as good as me” he says. “Dad was better, I am better, and the woman you love ?” His laugh is terrifying, evil.

He puts his finger on my stomach and pushes it harder and harder on me, until it hurts.

Until it hurts a lot.

“You’re soft” he says, covering my whines of pain, that come out with my child voice now. “Dad was right, you’re too soft. Your heart is soft, your body too. You couldn’t say no to Alastair, like you can’t say no to a burger” his finger is so strong, like metal, and it feels like it is going to go through my skin and muscles any moment. “You have no self-control. You’re pathetic, Dean… Dean ? Dean.”

I gasp, half sitting when I open my eyes.

“Sorry” Y/n says, and I look up to find her next to my bed, her hands up in a peace gesture.

“You’re back ?” I ask, still slightly panting.

The sight of her worried face makes my heart slow, and I notice she’s wearing that comfy pajama of hers, the very loose t-shirt draping lazily from her body, embracing her sweet curves.

“I got tired of running” she smiles kindly, finally plunging her hands in her sweatpants pockets.

I grunt and look at my watch, I have been sleeping a few hours, and I think the hangover is gone.

“I came to ask you if you were hungry and… You didn’t seem well” she nibbles at her lips. “Sorry if I scared you.”

I rub my eyes and give her a weak smile.

“You didn’t” I state. “I’m super hungry, yeah.”

I am. When I drink like that, I often skip diner.

I get up and grunt, rubbing my eyes. I thank her, walk to the kitchen with her and sit at the table in a sigh.

“So” she says with that radiant smile on her face. “I was thinking of making burgers. I know I don’t cook them as good as you, but !”

She turns around and shows me her phone screen, moving it too much in her enthusiasm for me to see anything. I chuckle and grab her wrist to still it, enjoying the softness of her skin under my fingers. On the phone, a recipe. “The best burger possible”, with descriptions of how to make the onions crispy, and to make the best sauce…

“Maybe I will finally make burgers as good as yours or close” she states, taking her hand back to read the recipe.

“You know you’re cute ?” I state, but I can’t give her the tender expression I intend to, as my dream comes back to me.

Maybe I should learn to say no to a burger.

“Not as much as your sleepy head” she chants.

“You know…” I clear my throat. “Maybe for once, we should eat what you like and not my greasy crap, like Sam says.”

She stops and turns to me with a pan in her hand and a surprised look.

“But” she pouts. “Me like burger.”

I look down, trying to think of something to say, she actually looks a little disappointed. She was so proud of what she had found… That woman is like a ray of sun.

When I’m about to tell her that I would love to taste her burger, regretting having made her beautiful smile fade, she puts her phone on the table before me and starts looking in the fridge.

“I get it Dean.”

“Really ?”

“Too much alcohol, your grandpa stomach is fragile” she chuckles and I wonder how she seem to never show real hurt, annoyance or disappointment at anything I say. "Okay, you asked for it, I prepare the same for you as I do for Sam and me."

“Yeah…” I mumble.

My eyes fall on her phone and my heart flutters. She forgot to lock it, and it’s the first time I see her wallpaper picture. It’s us. Just me and her. I remember that day.

It was last summer, we were hunting a Wendigo that attacked campers, and had to camp ourselves in the wood for a night to find it. It was a beautiful night. When the photo was taken, I was telling a story, standing with a large smile on my face and a beer in my hand. Y/n came close, I don't remember why, and she wrapped her arms around me, holding my waist with her head on my shoulder.

The picture really looks like we were a couple. She's staring up at me while I tell the story, her face inches away from mine. Behind us, that beautiful lake and a part of her blue tent. I don't remember who took this photo, and I think this moment must have been very short, or I would remember it. Maybe she just came that close to tell me something in the ear, maybe it was one of those quick hugs she gives me when I say something sad or mention being hurt.

Why would she have that on her screen ? Before I can think of it further, her phone locks by itself and becomes black.

I look up, her back is still on me, she's cutting something. With a discreet finger, I touch her phone, trying to make the photo appear again but her lock screen makes me sigh.

Sam, of course Sam. It's a selfie they took together, simple and cute, both looking at the phone my brother is holding.

"I'm afraid you'll still be hungry after th-" she turns around and her eyes fall on my finger on her phone. "But if you are, there is pie" she states, taking her phone to put it in the back pocket of her jeans.

Like she needed to hide something, like she was embarrassed that I saw that Sam is on her screen.

She arranges her salad or whatever she's making, puts a plate in front of me, and two others for Sam and her.

"Sam !" she calls and I look down at the plate.

I must say my it is pretty, all colorful. I recognize avocado, tomatoes... But as pretty as it is, it doesn't make me hungry, rabbit food never does.

"Oh wow, Dean is grounded or something ?" my brother chuckles, entering the kitchen.

"Leave him alone" she answers before I can make a comment. "His stomach is still upset."

Sam gives me suspicious look, I never ate this kind of veggie plate in my life, if my stomach is really upset, I wait an hour, and the second it's better, I fill it with beef jerky.

I can see my brother is waiting for me to make a comment, complain. But when I don't, he just shrugs and starts eating, talking to her about something I don't listen to. I take a piece of avocado with my fork and when I look up to her, she's staring at me, her beautiful eyes searching my face.

"You can change your mind Deanie. I can still make bacon" she smiles.

"N-no really I'm okay" I state, eating a green thing without enthusiasm.

"Oh wow" Sam sneers. "Dean says no to bacon !"

I swallow the lump in my throat and feel my cheek redden despite my effort to be as stern as possible. I don't need his smart words, and I don't need to see them being so perfect with each other. Getting up, I put the fork down.

"You know Sam, I actually can say no from time to time."

Leaving the room, I rub my face.

Reader's Pov

I stay still, my eyes on the kitchen exit where Dean just disappeared. Something is wrong, really wrong.

I have seen Dean sad, grumpy and pushing people away, but this is new.

"I should go check on him after diner" Sam says. "He obviously have something on his mind."

"Yeah..."

My phone buzzes, it's him.

Hey Sweetheart, I'm sorry for leaving without eating what you prepared. Please tell Sam to not check on me. I'm going to bed, I'm just tired.

Dean is never "just tired".

Okay Deanie. Don't worry for the food. Please if you need something, remember I'm right here.

Dean didn't come out of his room at all.

I waited a little in the kitchen, finishing that stupid show I had started the day before, when he was out with yet another woman. I was hoping maybe he would show up to eat something, and then I could talk to him, but he didn't.

"Y/n" Sam's voice makes me jump slightly, frowning at the too bright light. "Did you fell asleep out of bed again ?"

I look around, my laptop battery died, I don't know how long ago and I have no idea of what time it is.

My friend lets out a deep sigh, offers me his hand and closes my laptop. I get up and follow him, a new ache in my back.

"What was it this time ?" he asks opening the door to my room. "And don't say it has nothing to do with him."

I frown, close the door and sigh letting myself fall sitting on my bed.

"He didn't eat" I mutter and Sam rolls his eyes. "What ? You admitted yourself that something is off."

"Can I sit ?" he asks, taking place beside me on the bed when I nod. "Your crush for my brother, it was cute at first..."

I can see him hesitate, and I know I won't like what he has to say.

"But ?"

"But this is getting unhealthy" he looks down. "You know I love my brother, b-but I think he's not a good thing for you in the end."

My eyes get wet but I keep listening silently.

"Dean is... We all are damaged. You can't stand seeing him angry or hurt but, you know, he is most of the time. Y/n you can't keep spending your nights on wooden chairs just in case he need a freaking sandwich. You're a hunter, a warrior !"

I want to protest, it's not that simple. But nothing come out of my mouth. When tears roll on my face, he opens his arms, welcoming me against him.

I can't love Dean less, he knows that. But for the first time, he's telling me that he disagrees ; and that changes everything. Sam was always the one kindly making fun of me or taking pictures discreetly for me to stare at on my phone at night. What if he decides he has to talk to Dean ? What if he gets tired of me, his best friend ? And what if he's right ?

"You have to talk to him" he states, making my fears cut my air supply for a moment.

"I-I can't" I sob, half panicking.

"You know he really loves you..."

I let go of his arms, not really wanting to hear more but he keeps holding me.

"What are you so afraid of ?" he sighs.

Dean's Pov

I'm hungry. My stomach is gurgling and I feel a little dizzy, I need to eat, it's not like I was going to be more like Sam by starving or skipping meals anyway. I will never be like him. More like Sam is not only a muscle thing, he's also taller, smarter, better...

Coming out of my room, I rub my face, thinking of her pretty face a little shocked when I left. I should apologize.

After a very quick shower, I put on my grey robe and slippers again, walking to her room slowly.

I rarely felt that weak, after my heart failure years ago, or after a big blood loss... But hunger like that, I didn't feel it since that week dad left and I lost the food money. I was ten or eleven... I remember feeding Sammy with stolen food, and eating only the leftovers, a piece of fruit, a crust of bread... Sam was starting to realize something was odd. I was so tired...

I am so tired.

I ate eggs at lunch the day I went out, then nothing on the evening. And yesterday... Nothing either. I haven't eaten for like forty hours, not even the crusts of Sam's sandwich or three gummy bears he forgot on the nightstand this time. And I'm starting to shake.

It's enough. I will apologize, make coffee and breakfast for both of us, and ask her to come to my room to continue our "What you haven't seen that ? It's a classic !" marathon movie.

Just when I'm about to knock at her door, it opens.

Sam.

My brother comes out of her room... in the morning ; his perfect pecks showing through his t-shirt and his arms covered of superman veins.

"Dean" he says, surprised.

Then he closes the door behind him, not letting me in, and I feel my blood go down on my feet, making me dizzy.

"Give her a minute" he states, and leaves.

I stay in front of the door, looking at it like I could see through it. A minute ? What, is she still naked ? Panting ? Dirty ?... I shake my head.

I can't.

I...

She's my Y/n, how can he touch her ? How can he ? I need her, I need her for me... I can't...

My breath is short and I try to fight the crushing wave of emotions almost making me fall on my knees. Sam is better, I'm a grunt, I'm damaged, dumb, unworthy... And I'm freaking fat !

The door opens and Y/n bumps on my chest jumps, very surprised to find me here.

"Dean ?" she give me a well faked smile but it fades the second her eyes meet mine. "Dean... Are you okay ?"

I nod but I know the devastating hurricane raging inside of me is showing. And I'm not sure to feel my heart anymore.

"Deanie, did something happen ?"

"N-no" I state.

"Let's get breakfast" she frowns suspiciously. "I told Sammy that I wouldn't run this morning."

Why ? Are you tired ? Sore ? Did he hurt you ?

"I'm not hungry" I state.

The truth is I can't swallow anything right now.

"Not angry ?" she bites her lip. "What is it Dean ? Are you going on a hunger strike ?"

"No" I say and realize my tone is defensive.

She sighs and looks down, licking her lips, probably to taste my brother here...

"I'm worried" she whispers. "You didn't eat at all yesterday, and I know for a fact that you didn't get up for food."

"How can you be sure ?"

Her eyes are suddenly wet, and now I know what that fake smile was hiding : tears. It's enough to make me forget in a second about my own pain, about the crushing feeling on my heart.

"Because I slept in the kitchen again" she says a little coldly before walking pass me.

Reader's Pov

I have to hide my face. I can't deal with Dean telling me my love unhealthy too, or with his questions. And I can't cry before him, I wouldn't know how to explain it.

I enter the kitchen and take eggs and bacon from the fridge. Hungry or not, he will eat a little, he needs it.

Not hungry... Is he sick ?

"Y/n..." he sighs behind me, but I don't answer, breaking the delicate eggshells against the pan edge. "Why did you sleep there ?"

"I don't know" I just say. "Why aren't you eating ?"

"I eat, Y/n."

"Not lately, no. S-so now I make you a real breakfast, like you like it, with meat and fat."

"Maybe I should stop eating that..." he mumbles for himself, but I hear him and turn around.

"What ?"

His whole body language changed. He doesn't stand with that confidence and dominance he usually has. He's hurt, hurt bad. He looks tired and pale, but not only...

"What is going on between Sam and you ?" he asks, low.

"Sam ?"

I slightly shake my head in confusion.

I don't understand his question, I don't understand the pain on his face. Something happened when he went out, did someone hurt him ?

Suddenly, a smell of burn come to my nose : the eggs ! I turn and try to save them but Dean's strong wrist grabs mine, making me turn to him.

"Answer please."

His voice is more somber than angry, but his gesture is firm and he's shaking. I can see the fire raging inside of him.

"What do you mean going on ? Dean... The food" I try to turn.

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT FOOD !" he suddenly yells, my heart racing and eyes wetting instantly. "I HAD ENOUGH FOOD FOR AN ENTIRE LIFE !"

His vise fingers suddenly lets go of my wrist and he takes a step back, fear on his features, like he was afraid of his own emotions. Dean is an impressive and dangerous man, but I will never be scared of him.

I wipe the tears that escaped my eyes and, on the surface calmly, turn off the fire under the burned eggs. Then I get closer to him and take his hand, way softer than he took mine a second before, under the slightly too long sleeves of his adorable robe. I decided I would be a better friend, it's my chance to be.

"If you precise your question, Deanie, I will answer. I just don't really get it" my eyes are on him, kind but firm, like I was taming a wolf.

"I..."

He doesn't manage to finish his sentence, the gearwheels of his mind visible behind his sparkling eyes. If I don't help him, he will run away, and burry it forever.

"What do you think is going on between Sam and me ?" I ask, noticing his lips are really white, even more than before. But I know he won't agree to eat right now, not until we fix what is bothering him. "Do you think, we're hiding something ?"

That would explain why he was staring at my phone yesterday. Sam and him have been deceived so often, lied to...

"Are you together ?" he cuts my thoughts. "Or is it just casual ?"

"What ? No !" I frown, letting go of his hand just a second. "Dean... Sam is my friend."

"He's perfect" he whispers.

You're perfect.

"He's amazing" I nod. "Sam is one of the best person I know..."

"He's handsome" he cuts me.

I search his face, and he nervously licks his lips. I take his hand again shyly, just the tip of his fingers. He will close again because he regrets those words. I have to answer quickly even if I'm really wondering what this is about.

"H-he is" I state. "Not really my type but he really is a beautiful man."

"You're always together... He... He slept in your bedroom" he says, taking back his hand. "You guys do what you want, but don't take me for a fool."

I take a deep breath, I won't get out of this without saying a little too much. I little of what I don't want to say. But Dean seems to need answers, and what Dean needs...

"He didn't sleep in my room, I told you I fell asleep in the kitchen. He found me, and bought me back there, tried to convince me to sleep but I was worried... and sad. Why those questions ?"

"Sad ?"

I don't want to answer now, so I continue.

"And... I spend a lot of time with him because he's my friend and..."

Being with you sometimes hurt.

He doesn't answer, and looks down at himself. Is he jealous that spend time with Sam ? We indeed used to be even closer, before my love for him started being out of control. Does he feel like that third friend the others forget a little for the fun things ?

"Dean, are you upset because I went running with Sam instead of watching movies with you yesterday ?" he looks away. "Does this have anything to do with the fact that you're not eating ?"

"I... I don't know" he sighs. "I'm a little dizzy."

"Sit Dean" I say, guiding him to the table. "Tell me what's going on with food. Please. You know I hate to see you bad."

He rubs his face with both hands, his scruff audible under his palm. How I wish I could kiss this jaw, how I wish I could show him how much I love him, how I know who he is, not like those girls.

"It's ridiculous..." he tries, but I sit facing him, and wait for him to talk. "I'm not... like Sam."

"Like Sam ?"

"You know... Abs and..." he motions his body. "All."

"Wait" I blink a few times. "Dean you're perfect."

He scoffs so bend a little to make him look at me.

How can he compare himself to his brother ? Where do that come from ? I know Dean struggles with serious self-hate, but would never have guessed it would reach that subject, of physical appearance... Maybe this is about a woman.

"Dean. You're the most beautiful man I have ever seen." My mouth starts freeing itself from truth I kept locked, and I can't stop it. "I'm serious. Your face looks like some masterpiece with perfect proportion, y-your eyes are ridiculously green, your jaw could cut glass, your lips..." my eyes fall on them and my words get lost. "You're tall and broad..."

"You're making me blush Sweetheart" he says, he voices back to its usual low hoarse tone. "Still I... You know I'm... a kid when it comes to food, I never exercise..."

"Never exercise ?" I smile. "Three days ago you climbed inside a house then dug a six feet deep hole on the ground, and the day after you chased a monster, fought him, and carried his body to a place where you can burn it... I say you deserve a burger."

His face seems to light up a little, but his pretty pillow lips are still too white.

"But it's not working out, like Sammy."

"Dean... Your brother likes it, he need it to focus, to think" my smile grows and I speak lower, I know my admiration is showing, and it honestly feels liberating. "And he needs that to keep up with you."

"He doesn't" he almost chuckles, finally warming my heart.

"Well, you're the best. It's natural for you, but we have to work, especially me."

"You two are better than me" he states.

"We're not. And... Dean not eating isn't going to make you feel better about yourself. It's going to wear you out, make you weak..."

"I know" he sighs.

"Can I make you a breakfast ? The color of your lips makes me want to draw a salt circle."

He chuckles fully this times, wrinkles appearing on the corner of his eyes.

I gently pat his shoulder as I get up, still not believing Dean could have insecurities like those. I throw away the burnt cold eggs and make some new, with bacon.

"I hear comments sometimes you know..." he says like it was easier now I'm not looking at him. "The things you said, that my face is nice..."

"More than nice" I admit, turning a little to him, but not fully to keep watching the pan.

"It happened that girls expect more under my shirt" he looks down. "I know it's ridiculous... I just, I don't know, maybe I feel disappointing."

"It's not ridiculous" I state under my breath, grabbing a plate to finally give him food. " Here, eat this, all of it."

"Like with the whole FBI look or with my seductive smile" he stops and grunts. "I feel like a teen."

"Hey, nothing like that between us, you know that. I told you about very embarrassing stuff" I reassure him. "And, what you're saying is interesting, men endure the social standards too."

"I... I don't know I didn't age like a model, I'm... soft."

Model.

"You know..." I start.

I pour two coffees and take a chocolate bar for myself, watching him before I keep talking, to make sure he starts eating.

"Delicious" he states, putting big pieces in his mouth.

"One of the reason I work out with Sammy is... Precisely because I don't want to look ridiculous next to two total models."

"Now that's" he starts, opening his mouth too big at how hot it still is. "That's kinda ridiculous. You're the prettiest girl ever !"

"I'm not" I whisper, softly blowing on my coffee.

"What ? You are Y/n" I lift my eyes on him, his lips are still a little light but shining with grease.

"I'm not like the girl you go out with."

I don't dare looking up, but see he stopped moving. His robe is now totally opened, the belt got loose, and my eyes are lost in the black of his shirt.

"The girls I go out with" he repeats. "You're way better than those girls."

"Oh listen to you, that doesn't sound cliché at all" I say a little too coldly, a shocked expression appears on his face. "I... I'm sorry."

"You know... the girls I go out with, that doesn't really mean anything."

"I know" I cut him to make him understand I'm not asking him to justify himself.

But he keeps talking anyway.

"I have been with divorced single moms, witnesses... college girls" he says the last one with something bitter and I take this occasion to make it about him again, and not me.

"Two day ago" I ask, although it's the last thing I want to talk about. "It was a college girl, Deanie ? Did something happen ?"

"Yeah... no" he states, answering my two questions. "I just... I just realize it wasn't really what I wanted, not anymore. And that it didn't... didn't really make me feel good about myself."

"Too young for you ?" I try to joke, giving him a piece of my chocolate bar, feeding him like I always do, with everything I have in my hand.

"Kinda yeah" he answers seriously. "I don't know... She... I wasn't frat boy enough for her I guess."

"Yes, that's exactly the idea, that you're not that !"

"I didn't really, you know... enjoy it" he says and I fight the images coming in waves in my head. "I was too focused on trying to prove something" a dark chuckle escapes his lips. "I don't even know who I was trying to convince. And she... She didn't like the tattoo, the scars, the freckles..."

"Whoa whoa ! Who's that bitch ?" I lift my hands in the air, sincerely shocked, I never knew some women would be able to not appreciate Dean.

He smiles kindly but looks at the bottom of his coffee.

Silence. I wish I could make him see who he is, I wish I could speak more, ask questions, but just talking about that stupid college girl that had him, but on top of that made him feel bad about himself...

"You look sad again" he cuts my thoughts.

"Sad ?"

"Yeah, it happens often. You start thinking deeply and you get sad" he says. "Listen... You're the most amazing friend, and woman, there is..."

"But" I whisper, echoing the conversation with Sam in my head.

"There's no 'but'" he shakes his head. "I was just going to say that I want to be a better friend, and man, for you."

"You already are the best" I smile but he doesn't smile back at all, his green eyes searching mine.

"I'm not. I let you down several times. I get why you would rely on Sammy more. I left you at this bar after that hunt when that witness was hitting on me. And I cancelled movie night twice to go out, just to feel... I don't know desired, loved maybe ? I know how absurd it is" When I'm about to talk, he doesn't let me. "And I worry you... coming home drunk as fuck in the morning." He rolls his eyes a little. "And with Baby..."

"I'm not your mom, I have to stop being so protective, Sam is right..."

"Sam ?"

That's it, the moment I say so much I regret it my whole life. But I promised my best friend I wouldn't go on like this, that I would either talk to Dean, like he wants me to, or at list try to work on my feelings to move on. It's time to stop hiding everything from the man I love and make our friendship pure again.

"Sam says..." I clear my throat. "That... I have to care a little less about you, to care a little more about me" I don't dare looking up and let out a dark chuckle. "Won't be easy... I care a lot about you."

When he doesn't answer, I finally look up, fearing what I will see on his face. He's just staring at me with an expression I never really saw on his face. His gorgeous lips are pink again, and the scruff on his cheeks, a little darker than usual, highlights the radiant light of his big beautiful eyes.

He half gets up, bending on the table. And before I can realize what's happening, he puts his lips on mine in a soft, warm kiss.

My whole body responds to it. The thin hair on my arms stick up, my heart starts beating my chest and my thighs get moist with a thin layer of sweat.

I stay frozen for a second, looking at him in disbelief, playing the quick kiss again and again in my head as he sits back.

"I just..." he clears his throat and sigh, getting up. "I'm not Sammy."

Before he can leave, before this moment becomes a memory I will struggle to think as real, before I find myself in that hole of secrets again, I get up. But he's already walking to his room.

"Dean !" I run after him, meeting him at his bedroom door. "Dean. You're not Sammy. You're you, you're perfect in every ways."

My heart is pounding. Let's do this, he needs this. Dean needs to be loved and I didn't know he needed reassurance. No one can to this better than me, because I worship him. I always said I wanted to show Dean he can be happy, and loved without changing his life for good. This is my shot at it, I may not be enough, I may not be what he wants or needs, but at least I can share with him. My devotion, my love, my body, all he wants.

And If my heart breaks, let it be a happy sacrifice.

"Your freckles are like stars in a summer sky" he frowns when my fingers come up to graze his cheek. "I already liked freckles but yours... You make any other skin look plain and boring."

His face is so close, the delicious smell of his skin reaching me. His pupils are large, just circled with that green that could make me cry.

"Your lips..." I say a little lower, looking at them intensely.

From here, I can see the few freckles that made their way on them. Then I see his tongue, slowly wetting them before he bends again, catching my lips softly, his nose bumping mine when he opens his mouth to capture my upper lip, once, twice...

I open my mouth and wrap my arms around him, deepening the kiss with a shameless hunger, and all my love in it. Something blows up inside of me, something strong : need.

Dean's Pov

No drunk groans, and no shame anywhere. I kiss her like it was words, and take her inside my room.

"Your smell" she says and I feel emotions rush in every one of my veins, but it's not disturbing like it usually is. "I could bath in it, live it."

I bend to burry my face in her neck, inhaling deeply.

And I take my time, I have no reason to hurry, nowhere to go, no woman to come back to. She slips her fingers between the strands of my hair, letting me hold her close, drowning in her smell.

I want to cry, and I don't really know why. Probably because of how right this feels. Because of that relief : She not with my brother. She is not with Sam...

"Dean..." she whispers, her nails gently grazing my scalp. "Can I see you ?"

I put a kiss on her neck and murmur a tender 'yes' against it.

Her hands leave my hair to go down along my neck, sending shivers down my spine, and push my robe, making it fall like a cape at my feet. That’s how she makes me feel, like her hero.

Her chin goes up without me leaving her neck, and she gently rubs her cheek on my jaw. In a soft moan, I open my mouth to leave wet kisses on her skin.

Maybe she can be mine...

"Sometimes your voice makes me shiver" she whispers in my ear. "Just your voice... It's so deep."

Somehow her words send electricity to my crotch and I can feel my boxers getting tighter.

My hands grab her ass, pressing her against me and when she moans, I feel my cock twitch.

"Y/n..."

"You're beautiful in everything" she continues, her hands slipping under my shirt to stroke my back, her voice slightly weaken by arousal. "But when you wear henleys or just a t-shirt..." she kisses just below my ear. "I can get wet by just looking at you."

My cock twitches and I groan.

"Are you wet now, Baby ?"

She nods and I let go of her ass to cup her face, kissing her like I always dreamed of, deeply and hungrily, not caring of being in control of myself, not caring if I seem desperate.

She starts to walk, making me take a few steps back until my calf hit the edge of the bed and I sit on it. I tug at her shirt to make her straddle me, but she takes a second to take off her shorts, revealing her beautiful thighs, and her white panties.

When she finally straddles me, spreading her legs, I spot a wet stain on her panties and a low growl leaves my chest.

"Fuck... You are..." I say, my hand coming down to cup her sex through it, feeling the tip of my finger get wet.

Her body immediately contracts, and, with my middle finger pressed against her entrance, I can even feel her walls clench around nothing.

"How can you be so reactive" I groan.

"It's you..." she moans, rolling her hips just a little to feel my hands more. "Dean... No men can do this to me."

My other hand comes up to take that worn out black shirt she stole with impatience, because I notices she wasn't wearing a bra underneath.

"Oh baby..." I let out, bending to kiss her breasts, my other hand teasing her more.

I'm burning up, my back sweating, my cock painfully hard. I don't remember being that turned on in my life by so little. She hasn't even touched me yet.

Her head falls back and her nipples point at me, begging me to suck at them, so that's what I do. Mouth open, I take one in my mouth, along with the most of her soft breast I can.

"Ah..." she moans and squirms above me. "Dean !"

My cock twitches at just hearing my name like that, my real name on top of that.

I slip my hand in her panties, desperate to hear more, feel more. She's soaked, her thighs contracted and her hips rolling against my hand. She doesn't form words, but her body is begging for more.

So I slip a finger inside her and feel her squeeze him, hear her gasps. I can't wait to be inside of her but that's not my only purpose... Oh God when she will clench around me ! I’m panting now.

"Please Dean" she whines, one of her hand going behind her to find balance on my knee, her beautiful body arching back.

I give her what she needs, another finger, pumping slowly at first, then going a little stronger, and my thumb on her clit, gently circling. I look at her with my mouth open in awe, a devouring pleasure making me high.

"Fuck" I pant.

I should try to focus, make that coil inside me calm, make my heart slow. I don't want to be aroused like a teen, or I won't last at all... But I can't, and my free hand comes on my crotch to touch myself through my boxers a little, desperate for some friction.

"Dean ! Dean..." she cried out, now joining the movement of my fingers with her whole body. "I need..."

"Come for me" I order. "Show me how much you want me Baby, clench those fingers."

And just like that, she does.

Her whole body shakes and her thighs crush me, her walls trying to milk my finger for what they can't give her.

"DEAN DEAN DEAN !"

My cock twitches so hard it's painful, I bend on her chest to not see her face longer, and try to hold back as hard as I can.

"Baby... fuck..." I whine, my whole stomach contracting and my cock pulsating.

But when she grabs my head to hold it against her and start rolling her hips hard to prolong her powerful orgasm, I can't hold back...

In a very loud frustrated grunt I come in my pants, feeling my cum drip along my twitching cock.

Reader's Pov

My bliss makes me high, but my senses are at their full power, so I can feel what’s happening. I can feel Dean squirm beneath me and shake, I can feel his hand unable to move and hear his gasps.

He’s coming.

My walls clench even more at the thought and he whimpers against my breasts. So I hold him, I just hold him.

When I finally can have the control of my body again, I look down at him and he withdraws his fingers slowly.

“Y/n…” he whispers. “Fuck I…”

“Did you came ?” I ask with the largest smile I ever had on my face.

“I… yeah… I’m…”

He seems embarrassed.

“Dean, that’s the sexiest thing I have ever experienced” I assure him, bending to kiss his lips. “No one ever wanted me that bad.”

“I still want you” he states, his hands stroking my back and going down on my ass. “I… I think you’re all I want actually.”

My eyes get wet. In my head : every single moment in my life that made me fall in love with Dean, every day, every moment I craved for a touch, for his smell, every time he laughed and cried… Everything.

“Then you have me Dean, you can have me forever if that’s what you want.”

“Yes, I do” he says, taking off his shirt.

With a large smile I push him back on the bed, letting him drag both of us higher on it. I look down at him, and a tear falls on his chest. His hand comes up to wipe my cheek, we don’t need to talk for a moment.

My hands go down his sides, enjoying his firm chest and the soft line of his stomach, my thumbs massaging it a little on their way up, feeling the strong muscles underneath and the silky-smooth skin.

I bend to kiss his collarbones, and his tattoo, palms still roaming everywhere like I always dreamed of, like I will always dream of.

“This tattoo” I say, drawing its contour with my finger. “It’s so you, it has a story, and it protects you. I love it.”

“And I love you” he states without a hesitation, his chin almost on his neck to see me.

A tiny emotional sob escapes my lips, making him frown a little and wrap his strong arms around me.

“Hey baby…” he whispers. “Y/n…”

My hand goes down to push his underwear down, and my panties to the side. He searches my eyes while I do, and licks his lips in a moan when I grab his cock to guide it at my entrance.

“I love you” I say, slowly sinking down on him. “I love you, I love you…”

FEEDBACK IS WHAT MAKES ME WRITE

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