#also sorry i know i keep bringing this up but.

[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 I LAUGH LIKE ME AGAIN (SHE LAUGHS LIKE YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: four years apart and the ultimate question is about to be answered: do you and dazai really still know each other, or are you clinging to a fantasy of the past? you decide to put it to the test with a game of wits and questions when dazai gets back to your apartment—but as the game drags on, dazai starts to wonder if maybe he was wrong. worse, if maybe he would prefer to be wrong.

(wordcount: 14.5k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, jealous!dazai, possessive!dazai, smoking & drinking, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing, im rushing to get this out!)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys here it IS - sorry it's late, but TRUST it's worth it. i'm so proud of this fic, genuinely one of the things im most proud of writing. this is technically a part 2 to he's my collar but can be read as a standalone

It takes far too long for Dazai to make it out of the Port Mafia headquarters, with both Akutagawa and Chuuya prowling about like the dogs they are. He wonders if you tipped either of them off—Chuuya, in particular—because the slug had been looking around like he was searching for someone. He thinks you’re entirely wretched for it, knowing that if he got caught, he’d be trapped in that damp and filthy torture chamber until he managed to finagle his way out, and he plans to make it known to you just how entirely displeased he is by the situation. 

The path to your apartment is achingly familiar, and the giddiness in his chest is something he hasn’t felt since the day he left. He knows that he should probably be more careful—he’s still in Port Mafia territory, your apartment spans the top floor of the easternmost building of the five towers—but he also knows that you’re the only one with direct access to the cameras in this building so he’s more reckless than he would’ve otherwise been. 

The floors tick up agonizingly slowly, Dazai swears that there must be something wrong with the elevator because it’s never taken this long before to get up to your place. His fingers thrum against his thigh, and his foot taps the ground impatiently. He paces from corner to corner within the small space like a caged animal. He thinks that maybe he should be taking advantage of the time alone, come up with some better excuses as to why he didn’t say anything to you before he left.

“I wouldn’t have left,” isn’t going to cut it. As true as it might be, it’s not the full truth, and Dazai knows you’ll be able to sniff it out in a matter of a few seconds with a clear head. He’s not walking into a cheerful reunion between old lovers, he’s walking into what’s about to be a stressful game of chess against a strategist whom Dazai has always considered a near-equal, a battle of wits against a woman whose whole life has revolved around political warfare. If he wants to keep his dignity intact and his secrets safe, he’s going to have to be incredibly cautious with what he says to you and even with how he reacts to what you say to him.

Still, he can’t help the giddiness. The excitement. He’s missed you. He’s missed you so much that it hurts. He’d thought that over time, the longing for you would go away, but it never did. If anything, it got worse because, over time, the pictures of you started to lack the soothing feeling they used to bring to the aching in his chest. Over time, he started to forget the sound of your voice and the sound of your laugh.

He’d known that you’d been sent away on foreign business not long after his last call to you, but he didn’t think Mori would actually keep you abroad for three whole years. He’d been hoping, maybe, that he could stumble into you one day. Or maybe just watch from afar, get close enough to hear the sound of your voice again. He’s been grossly denied of you for too long, and he knows that it’s of his own doing but that only makes it worse.

When the elevator dings, announcing his arrival on your floor, Dazai is sorely unprepared for the conversation about to take place. He steps into your penthouse, eyes drifting around the familiar vast space.

Like your office, not much has changed since the last time he was here. Your coffee table is still set down a few centimeters too close to the couch in the living room—the same couch he had his first kiss on with you when the two of you were sixteen and drunk on champagne celebrating a successful mission. You still hang your black jacket over a chair instead of properly on a hanger, it’s why it always has a crease on the back—he’d noticed it when you left your office, and he can’t help but smile slightly at the confirmation as his eyes linger on where it’s draped over one of your kitchen chairs. 

You tried to convince him that you’ve changed in the years the two of you have been apart, but Dazai doesn’t think you’ve changed much at all.

You’re leaning against the windows, looking down on the city—he knows you must’ve heard the elevator, but you haven’t bothered to look his way yet. There’s an indecipherable expression on your face and a glass of wine in your hand. You’re still dressed in your suit and Dazai notices there’s a glass of whiskey on the rocks untouched on the kitchen table. He shrugs off his trench coat and drapes it over yours, hoping that the scent of you seeps into it because he’s gone too long without it.

His fingers curl around the glass of whiskey you’d left out for him, and for a moment, he swears that he’s eighteen again. He’s making his way to your penthouse after a long mission with Chuuya, you’re expecting him—you always are—and he can never push away the fondness that squeezes his chest when he finds you lounging back on your couch, flipping through channels to find something to watch, a glass of his favorite whiskey set down on the coffee table next to where your feet are propped up as you wait for him to show up.

He wonders if you even care to remember what his favorite is. He wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.

He makes his way out of the kitchen and back into the living room, and he’s reminded that he’s not eighteen and you’re not waiting for him to show up after a mission because you finally look at him, and his breath catches in his throat.

He thinks you look a bit older now than you did four years ago—to be expected, of course—and there’s a coldness to your eyes that hadn’t been there before. Impossibly, he thinks that you’re somehow even more beautiful than you were when he last saw you, and he realizes again, throat tightening, that even after three years of no contact with you, he’s just as in love with you now as he was the day he left.

He knew it back then before he left, even if he never said it. When he was eighteen and could only feel any inkling of pleasure when he was with you; it wasn’t like he’d never tried to have sex with other people, he’d whore himself out for information at any given chance and slept around frequently after you started dating a civilian to distract himself from the bitter jealousy he felt, but he’d never known how good it was supposed to feel until he slept with you for the first time. When he was seventeen and could only ever feel comfortable in your presence, seeking you out at any given chance when he couldn’t handle being around people anymore; he’d curl up in your office with your orange blanket, napping as you did work, knowing that you’d keep people away from him. He thinks he might’ve even known when he was sixteen when the two of you first met on the streets of the Kanagawa prefecture.

He wonders if you even believed him when he said it earlier—he doubts it, you don’t seem too keen to believe anything he says, and he doesn’t blame you for it. 

But whether you believe it or not, it’s yours—that rotted heart of his, shriveled and shabby, riddled with holes and decay, half-eaten by maggots and worms it might be, but it’s still yours. He thinks that it was meant to be yours since the moment he was born, and it’ll be yours even after the two of you are long dead. He doesn’t know how he’s meant to go without you again—he doesn’t think he can. He knows that despite the tentative ceasefire, the Port Mafia and the Agency are still enemies, but he knows in his heart that he won’t be able to leave you again. Even just the sight of you has condemned him completely. 

Then you speak, and at once, his entire world falls apart.

“I’m leaving again in the morning,” you finally say, tone flat and eyes sharp and shrewd as you look over him. He reminds himself that this is not a reunion, that he needs to get his head on straight if he wants to make it out of your apartment in one piece, but it’s hard. “I was only brought back to smooth things over with the government after the whole fiasco with Fitzgerald and his American cronies. I’ll be leaving for Russia in the morning to meet with Tolstoy and Nabakov. Hopefully, gain some intel on Fyodor Dostoevsky’s plans before the man makes another move on the city.”

He… did not anticipate that you’d be leaving again so soon. Something cold and sharp latches to his heart, like jagged nails ripping it apart. He makes sure it doesn’t show on his face.

“Be careful,” he tells you quietly. “Dostoevsky… he’s not someone to underestimate. Just-Just be careful.”

You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed, “I’ve worked with Dostoevsky before. I don’t need you to warn me about him.” 

Your voice is cool. Sharp. Dazai sighs, knowing that anything he might’ve said to you earlier in the night is lost to you, and he doesn’t know if he’ll have it in him to bare his heart again, only for you to scorn it. He’s not meeting with you as he knows you—as his closest friend, as his lover; he’s meeting with you as the Port Mafia executive. Not the version of you that treats with allies, wining and dining them with glittering eyes and playful smiles as you use your ability to ensure they never turn on the Port Mafia; the version of you that sits at the round table with enemies, with a quick mind and calculating eyes as you decide whether or not they’re worthy of being absorbed into the Port Mafia or if Double Black will be sent out to eradicate them. 

“I told you everything I had to say back at the office,” Dazai tries, and he wonders if you’ll let him get away with it—he doubts it, but it’s worth a shot, and it will at least stall for a few moments as he tries to forcibly turn the cogs in his mind to figure out the best way of appeasing you. “I missed you. I… couldn’t say goodbye to you, not if I was to leave. I…”

I love you.

He doesn’t say it; he thinks he was only able to push it out earlier in the night in the heat of the moment, the orgasm-induced haze fogging his brain enough to let it slip out in desperation to make you give him a chance. And it worked because you gave him a second chance when you invited him back to your apartment, but Dazai doesn’t know how to make the most of the opportunity. He thinks he’s a fool for not preparing for this before getting here.

You click your tongue sharply, lip curling up in something close to disgust, and Dazai is glad he didn’t speak his ‘I love you’ because he thinks he might’ve actually cried if that was your reaction to him saying it.

“The only things you told me earlier in the night were half-truths and sweet talk. I didn’t invite you back to my apartment to hear you beg for another chance, Dazai,” you say coolly, and Dazai desperately misses the sound of his given name on your tongue. The corner of your lip curves up into a half-smirk, eyes suddenly glittering beneath the dim lighting of your penthouse as you add, “Although, I wouldn’t be opposed to it after we talk.”

He thinks the fact that you’re already considering an after might be a good sign. He can feel his cheeks flush a bit at your words, but instead of letting himself get rattled, he takes a step forward, well into your personal space, as he dips his face down so close to yours that his lips nearly brush yours as he speaks.

“I’d beg pretty for you,” he whispers, letting his voice drop an octave as his gaze tracks down to your lips. “I’d even get on my knees.”

Unfortunately, you are entirely unbothered by the proposition. “We’ll see, I suppose,” you say, and then raise your eyebrows, signaling for him to take a step back.

He does, and he feels distinctly put out and rejected by your reaction, but he sighs and asks, “What did you invite me here for then?” 

He very much does not like the way your eyes glitter now—shrewd this time, more amused, dangerous, as if you know the two of you are about to tread down territory that he’s going to be unfamiliar with. You nod for him to follow you into the kitchen, taking a seat at the head of the table and motioning for him to sit opposite you.

He does.

“We can play a game,” you finally concede. Dazai settles back against his chair, fingers still tapping rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, a terrible habit that Dazai has accrued whenever he feels cornered. Not a frequent occurrence, but damning when it is. Your eyes linger on them, and he knows you’ve pinpointed the tell. He forces himself to stop, but from the way your lips curl up, he can tell it doesn’t matter. “Ten questions each. Yes or no answers only.”

Dazai notices that you pointedly leave out any rule about the honesty of each answer—intentional, surely, so he probes.

“How do we determine the winner?” Dazai asks. He finally takes a sip of the fine whiskey you’d poured for him, and his question from earlier is answered. His favorite. There’s a warm feeling in his chest at the realization that you’ve remembered it even after all of these years.

Your lips curve up into a sharper and wider smile, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the soft lighting of your kitchen. The glass of wine in your hands is suddenly more reminiscent of a gun being pointed at him than your choice of alcohol, and he feels as if he’s already made some egregious mistake in your eyes.

“After we give our answer, the other has to decide whether or not it was truthful. In the end, we’ll both see how many the other got right. A test to see how well we still know each other,” is all you say in response. You’re mocking him and his insistence that the two of you are still the same, but Dazai intends to prove himself right. You tilt your head to the side and then say, “The prize is to be determined by the winner. I’ll ask the first question.”

Dazai winks, a lecherous comment already on his tongue about the prize, but the withering look you give him is more than enough to make it die before he can let it loose. He pointedly takes another sip of his drink and sinks in his seat.

He thinks that this should be an easy win. You’re quite the adept liar, but you’ve always had a glaring tell. Well, he amends, it’s glaring to him, at least. Not many others would be observant enough to catch it, and even if they were, only someone with an abundance of experience with you would be able to put it together. His gaze flickers up to meet yours, wondering if your lashes flutter right before you tell a lie. It’s such a simple and subtle tell, so casual that it took Dazai a year and a half to put together, but it was hard to miss once he did.

You hum to yourself as you give off the appearance of thinking about a question, but Dazai knows you better than anyone, and he’s certain that you already have all ten prepared, so he rolls his eyes at the faux show of uncertainty. 

“We both know you know what you want to ask,” he finally says. “Do us both a favor and quit with the theatrics.”

Your lip quirks up in amusement. “And here I was being gracious giving you more time to formulate whatever lies you’ll try to get away with,” you drawl, and Dazai nearly flinches.

“You know me so well,” Dazai sighs to hide how disconcerted he really is. “The question?”

You stare at him for a moment, and your lips curl up into a deceptively soft smile that almost throws Dazai off because, god, he’s missed you. And he knows you’re looking at him like this just for this specific reason because you’re a despicable bitch who knows that he’s always been easily unsettled when people show any semblance of affection toward him, but he can’t help the way he falters.

He tries to brace himself for whatever invasive question you’re about to ask regarding his reasons for leaving. Tries to prepare himself to lie cleanly because he’s sure you’re as aware of his tells as he is of yours. 

Then you ask: 

“Did you defect because of something Oda asked of you?”

Jesus. Right for the throat. You really don’t pull punches. 

Dazai’s throat tightens at the mention of his old friend, but he’s able to keep his expression clear of the sudden pain that your question brings on. You’re watching him carefully for reactions, gaze hawklike as you study his face, and Dazai is not about to let you pinpoint any more of his tells so early in the game.

He figures that this is an easy question; you already know the answer but want to hear the confirmation from his lips, so he decides to tell the truth.

“Yes.”

“The truth,” you say, an indecipherable expression on your face. He wonders if you want to ask what Odasaku asked of him, but that’s not part of the game and Dazai has no intention of answering that.

Be on the side that saves people. If both are the same to you, become a good man.

You might laugh in his face—Dazai Osamu, the Demon Prodigy, a good man? The idea is blasphemous, and he thinks it might actually hurt him if you scoff or laugh in response to hearing that, so he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t give away more than he has to, hoping that you don’t just straight up ask him.

You open your lips to speak, and Dazai braces himself for the prying question, but instead, you only probe, “First question?”

He wonders if your whole first question and the implications of it was just a means of trying to throw him off because now he’s fumbling trying to remember what he wanted to ask you before you hit him with it. He wouldn’t put it past you to play dirty like that—bringing up his dead friend and his last request just to unsettle him to give you the edge.

“Did we meet during my underground years after I defected?” he finally asks, and yeah, he knows the answer to this question. The missing half of his ear and waking up in the old safe house he used to hide out at with you is more than enough evidence for him to come to a definite conclusion, but he wants to hear it from you.

“Yes.”

Dazai inhales sharply and then murmurs, “That’s the truth.” And then, more loudly and far more affronted, he accuses, “I can’t believe you shot half of my ear off.”

He expects you to toss him a wink and a sharp grin, unrepentant and even finding amusement in his offense, but instead, your expression falters for the first time since he’s arrived. Something strange crosses your face; for whatever reason, his words leave you conflicted and Dazai suddenly feels even more nervous than he already was because now he can’t help but wonder what he might’ve said to you in his drunken state. 

He supposes that’ll have to be another question, but first, he’s going to have to figure out how to phrase it to get a yes or no answer first, without being vague enough for it to be a waste of a question or easy for you to misconstrue.

You hum after a few moments, taking a pointed sip of your wine. Dazai watches curiously—you’re bothered still, you’re not even trying to hide it. He knows you have better control over your facial expressions than this, so he thinks maybe it’s a ploy to get him to start spiraling down a path of useless questions. Put off by his sudden inability to discern your schemes, a part of him wonders if maybe you were right because the him of four years ago would’ve seen right through you right now.

“I’m afraid it had to be done,” you sigh with faux regret, but he can tell from the way the smile on your lips doesn’t reach your eyes that you’re not into the banter. “Were you able to fulfill Oda’s request?” 

Fuck. This time Dazai can’t withhold the grimace that spreads across his face. He tries to keep his voice light with a deflecting comment, “My, bella, you’re really hitting with the deep questions tonight, aren’t you?”

You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side as you wait for an answer, not giving him any room to formulate a response to your question. He finally sighs and shakes his head, taking a long sip of his whiskey. He wishes he had a pack of cigarettes on him, suddenly desperately longing for the pleasant burn of the smoke against his throat; he needs the buzz badly right now.

As if you could read his mind, you shift in your seat a bit and stuff your hand into the pocket of your slacks. It takes a few seconds but you fish out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, sliding them across the table over to him. If he wasn’t already so in his head over the question you asked, he’d make a quip over the fact that you still know him so well despite your insistence otherwise, but he only pulls out a cigarette and lights it, looking curiously down at the familiar brand.

“Since when did you start smoking these?” he asks quietly, eyes fluttering shut as he tilts his head back and takes a long drag of it. He exhales slowly and then adds, “Thought you liked the other ones, in the green box.”

“Teal,” you correct, and then frown a bit. “... Switched after you left.”

Dazai’s eyes flutter back open as his gaze focuses on you, wondering if the implication you left up in the air is something he can take at face value or if it’s just another way of trying to get him to lower his guard. But from the way you suddenly don’t meet his eyes, Dazai thinks you might be being honest: you switched because they reminded you of him.

Dazai’s chest suddenly feels heavy again.

“... No,” he finally responds to your second question. “Not yet, at least.”

“... Truth,” you say, and Dazai’s lips curl into a wry smile.

“Unfortunately.” The word slips out before he can stop it.

Your gaze flickers back up to him, curious, but Dazai doesn’t give you the chance to dwell on his comment, asking his next question: “Did I… admit anything to you that night that I wouldn’t have said while sober?”

His fingers tap rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, half-empty now; he’s anxious to hear your response.

“You did,” you confirm.

Dazai grimaces because that’s another truth, and that is not good. But just like how he doesn’t offer any context for his answers, you don’t either. He doesn’t know what he might’ve admitted or how you might’ve taken it—he’s going to have to waste another question on this topic.

“Truth,” he murmurs.

You hum and then ask, “Do you still blame yourself for what happened to him?”

“Come on,” Dazai complains sharply, tossing you a dirty look now. His jaw is tight. He wonders if you keep asking about Oda as some sort of sick revenge for him leaving, ripping open wounds that never properly healed so you can dig your fingers into them and twist around. You don’t look bothered by his outburst, waiting patiently for a response. He lets out an angry sigh, looking away and taking another long drink from his glass and another drag of his cigarette. 

He voices his first lie, “No.”

You let out a puff of air, rising to your feet and making your way over to the opposite counter, you grab the bottle of whiskey and bring it back over to him, topping off his now-empty glass before pointedly holding out your hand. He passes the cigarette over to you, tilting his head back to watch you bring it to your lips—a part of him longs to lean forward, to slide his hand behind your neck and cradle your head as he brings his lips to yours, inhaling the smoke as you exhale it, dizzy off the proximity to you, high off the buzz of the nicotine, just like the two of you would do when before he left.

He refrains, if only barely.

You exhale the smoke, a small cloud billowing around you—Dazai mourns the waste—and then you pass the cigarette back over to him. Your fingers brush his as you do, and a spark shoots through his arm at the touch.

“A lie,” you finally say, looking down at him with a frown. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. There was nothing you could’ve done to save him.”

“You don’t know that,” Dazai says tightly, averting his gaze from you as you make your way back over to your seat across from him. “If I’d been faster-”

“If Mori wants someone dead, then they’ll die,” you interrupt him, a grimace on your face as you look down at your wine glass. “Trust me, Dazai, there was no saving Oda Sakunosuke.”

Dazai pauses instead of snapping again, catching the expression on your face. Haunted, as if you’re speaking from experience. He tilts his head to the side and then asks quietly, “Are you talking about your ex-partner? Itou?”

If Dazai remembers correctly, he died on a mission when you were seventeen. You never told him the circumstances, and he never asked, but it was the first and only time you ever broke down in front of him.

The corner of your lips tightens, “Is that your next question?”

Dazai barely withholds a frustrated sigh. 

“No,” he says quietly, and then asks, “Did I tell you why I couldn’t say goodbye? The real reason?”

He holds his breath now as he waits for your response. One way or another, this question is a double blade: if he did tell you why, then he’s at another disadvantage because he’s going to feel distinctly bare and vulnerable; if he didn’t tell you, he just admitted that he lied back at your office, at least partially. 

After what feels like an eternity, you finally say, “Yes.”

The truth. Dazai wonders when you’re going to utter your first lie, if you will, or if you’re trying to make some sort of point by being honest with him. He voices his answer and then waits impatiently for your next question as his mind races.

He desperately wants to know how you responded to him back then. Would you have come with him had he come to you before he left? Or would you have chosen the Port Mafia? He wonders if he should ask, make it one of his remaining seven questions, but he doesn’t know if he has the guts to hear your answer, so maybe he’ll just change the subject.

“Are you enjoying yourself at the Agency?”

For the life of him, Dazai cannot figure out your angle. First, the prying questions about Oda and now asking about the Agency. He doesn’t know what he expected at the start of the game—you’ve always been unpredictable, but even more so now. He’s never had such a hard time reading you or your intentions before.

He starts to feel even more doubtful, wondering if you were right.

Maybe he doesn’t know you as well as he thinks he does anymore.

But this is an easy question, so he says the truth with little hesitation, “I am.”

Dazai swears the corners of your lips curl up into a soft smile, but it’s gone so quickly that he might’ve imagined it.

“Good,” you say quietly. “I’m glad.”

Dazai’s lips part, a warm feeling spreads through his chest at the honesty in your tone. Desperately, he wants to know what’s going on—where’s the rage and the betrayal he expected from you? The hate? Why do you seem… okay with all of this?

Irrationally, he starts to wonder if everything from the office was just a heat-of-the-moment conversation. If now that you’ve had time to sit on your thoughts, you’ve realized… realized what? That you’ve moved on from him? That you don’t care what he does anymore? That you’ve accepted that he’s no longer a part of your life? The warmth in his chest disappears, edged away by a sudden coldness and desperation because he thinks he’d rather die than go back to a life without you.

Even more irrationally, he remembers the comment you made back at the office, the admission that you’ve slept around since he left. Oh god, what if you really have moved on?

He knows his next question.

“The people you slept with—were they all one-night stands?”

He doesn’t want to know the answer unless it’s a yes.

You raise your eyebrows at the abrupt shift in his line of questioning, and then, to his absolute horror, you say, truthfully, “No.”

“What do you mean no?” he asks angrily—he thinks if he was a bird, he’d be puffing his chest out in irritation. He feels antsy suddenly, he needs to move around. He starts tapping his foot against the floor, his fingers against the glass. And again, he thinks you’re a despicable bitch because you only look amused at his question as if he’s not beside himself with righteous fury.

“It’s not your turn,” is all you respond with, and Dazai has a distinct urge to throttle you. Then you ask, “Do you feel like you belong there?”

He halts.

His fingers freeze from where they’re tapping against the glass, his foot freezes mid-motion. His lips part as he’s confronted with the very question that he’s been struggling with for two years now. He wants to yes, if only to maybe be a little spiteful, to rub in your face that he’s somewhere good and he’s somewhere where he belongs, and it’s not somewhere with you. A cruel dig to get back for the aching in his chest at the thought of you being with other people, but he knows that you’ll catch the lie, and more importantly, he doesn’t want to hurt you like that.

Maybe he has grown a bit because the Dazai of four years ago nearly killed your civilian boyfriend when he found out that you were dating someone besides him and then promptly made a show of sleeping around to try to get back at you.

So, instead, he says quite honestly, “I don’t know.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Not a yes or no answer, but I suppose it works. How curious.”

He hates your cryptic comments. Pointedly, he side-eyes you as he takes another long drag of his cigarette. Already, it’s nearly down to the nub, so he puts it out on your table, ignoring the distasteful look you give him, and then reaches for another to light as he asks: “Were you in a relationship with any of them?” 

You roll your eyes at his prying, and he cannot hide the abject horror that crosses his face when you say, “Yes.”

“That better be a lie,” he complains, and when you look at him as if to ask if that’s really his guess, he makes a show of pushing out his bottom lip and looking away as he says: “I cannot believe you dated other people. Cheater.”

“We were never even dating, Daz-”

“Yes, we were,” Dazai protests instantly, entirely aghast at your words. “We absolutely were. What does that even mean? Of course, we were dating. Everybody knew it. Ask anybody. Ane-san knew. Gin-chan knew. Chuuya knew. Even Mori knew. We were so dating, you-”

“You never officially asked me to be your girlfriend, which is, unfortunately, the most fundamental step of dating,” you interrupt him, and Dazai stares at you in disbelief.

“I bought you flowers, we fucked exclusively,” Dazai complains, aggrieved. “We were definitely dating, and you definitely cheated on me because we never broke up.”

“If we were dating,” you emphasize the if very pointedly, and Dazai is distinctly put out by it, “then we broke up the day you left without saying goodbye.”

Dazai withers. He has no witty comment to return fire with, so instead, he just takes another sip of his whiskey, grateful for the combined buzz of the alcohol and the nicotine to distract him from the overwhelming guilt he feels whenever you bring up how he left you.

“Do you feel like you belong more with the Agency than you did with the Port Mafia?” 

Your next question is an amendment to your previous on, and it leaves Dazai just as lost.

He wants to belong with the Agency. He does. Desperately. He wants more than anything to feel as at home and comfortable in the light as he does in the dark. He doesn’t want to question his place among them anymore, he doesn’t want to wonder if he sticks out like a sore thumb. He wants to enter the office and feel like he doesn’t have to pretend to be someone he’s not, just so he can keep his place with them. He doesn’t want to have to fear at every corner that he’s going to revert to old habits, and they’ll see him for the monster that he is: a monster that should have never left the dark crevices that he crawled out from, a monster with blood so black that it strikes fear in even the most terrible mafiosos.

“No,” he admits the insecurity that’s plagued him to the one person he feels comfortable enough with to voice it aloud. He can’t bring himself to look up at you, wondering if the admission will give you some sort of sick satisfaction, if you’ll be happy that he’s not finding a place he can be comfortable in without you. Instead, he decides to rush to ask his next question: “The one you were in a relationship with, did you love him?”

He thinks that the question came across as far more timid than he meant it to be, and his eyes slide shut as he waits for your answer.

“There were multiple I had relationships with—” Dazai scoffs, of course, there were multiple. “—...but no, I did not.”

He lets out a soft puff of air, shoulders slumping a bit in relief. But his fingers are still tense around his glass, waiting for whatever question you’re going to ask next that’s going to dig deep into open wounds, stripping him of all of his masks and armor to force him to lay himself entirely bare in front of you.

“Did you really blow up Chuuya’s car before you left?”

His eyes fly open at the sudden change of pace in your questions, noting the smirk curling at the corner of your lips and the amusement glinting in your eyes. He accepts the olive branch quickly as he gives you a sharp smile and asks: “What do you think?” 

Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle a laugh, and the smile on Dazai’s lips becomes a bit softer as he watches you desperately try to get yourself under control. “You’re insane, you know that?” you finally say, still trying to bite back giggles. “He was so mad. Raged about it for weeks.”

Another question pops into Dazai’s head at the mention of Chuuya, and before he can consider whether or not he actually wants to know the answer to it, he asks: “Speaking of Chuuya, was he one of your trysts while I was gone?”

Suddenly, you are not laughing, and suddenly, Dazai regrets speaking.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Do not tell me-”

“He was,” you confirm.

Dazai’s glass of whiskey is empty. 

He grabs the bottle and drinks right from it, miserable.

“I think I would’ve rather been stabbed through the heart,” Dazai says mournfully, and though he keeps a faux-light tone with you, his throat feels like it’s swollen, and he feels a bit sick to his stomach.

He’s always been jealous of the bond you have with Chuuya. Absurdly jealous, even. You clicked with him quickly—you clicked with both of them quickly, and maybe it was a matter of the three of you being the youngest of the Port Mafia’s uppermost echelon, but Dazai doesn’t want to attribute it solely to that—but the way you clicked with Chuuya was different from how you clicked with Dazai. Two people so completely human locked away in the dark, clinging to one another to maintain some sense of normalcy; your and his casual humanity made Dazai’s lack of it irrefutable and glaring.

Regardless of the why, he never liked how close you were with Chuuya. 

Even before you were dating him—because you were dating him—a part of him had always felt sidelined whenever the three of you hung out together. Not because of either of your wrongdoings but just because it was hard for him to keep up with the two of you. He always felt a bit lost trying to, unable to follow along when the two of you would start laughing at jokes that he didn’t understand even when you explained them to him, when you would share glances with one another that spoke whole conversations he wasn’t privy to. The two of you got along in ways that Dazai would never be able to get along with anyone because there’s just something fundamentally wrong with him at his core. Chuuya, for all of his talk and fear regarding the question of his humanity, has always been so unfailingly human in ways that Dazai, to this day, cannot fathom to understand.

After you started dating him—because you were dating him—it only got worse because he’d see you with Chuuya and wonder if you were better off with someone like him instead. Dazai doesn’t know how to treat you right, clearly. He can’t even treat himself right; and Chuuya has always been the epitome of a gentleman, loathe Dazai is to admit it—Ane-san drilled that into the other boy where Mori only taught Dazai how to be cruel and unforgiving. The line between love and obsession has always been a terribly blurry one for him, and you have always wavered on either side of it—and Dazai, unfortunately, does not love healthily and obsesses so entirely that it would have most people running for the hills. 

For better or for worse, you’re not most people.

In his spiral of insecurity, he doesn’t catch the way your brows furrow as you put together some puzzle pieces. “Dazai,” you say suddenly, drawing him from his thoughts abruptly. There’s an accusatory look in your eyes that he really does not like. “Were you the one that booby-trapped my fucking apartment?”

Dazai snorts.

“You bastard,” you snap at him, and Dazai can’t help but bite the palm of his hand as a means of trying to stifle his laughter. “Mori thought it was a goddamn assassination attempt. He kept me under watch for weeks because of you. I couldn’t leave the towers without half of the Black Lizards with me.”

“Sorry,” he coos, not sorry at all. Dazai, because he clearly doesn’t know when to learn his lesson, then he promptly asks, “Am I better fuck than Chuuya?”

“Jesus Christ, Dazai, get off the topic of Chuuya and my sex life, it’s clearly only upsetting you,” you snap at him instead of answering the question. Dazai wants to argue and retain some dignity; he’s not upset, but then his entire world is shattered by your next words: “I am not answering this question.”

Dazai blanches. He can feel the blood drain from his face. He’d thought this was an easy question to make him feel a bit better. What do you mean you won’t answer? Does that mean Chuuya-

No. Dazai refuses to believe it.

 “No way,” he says, shaking his head. “He’s not a better fuck than me. You can’t possibly-”

“He’s not,” you finally say, and Dazai audibly lets out a sigh of relief. “But if you ever mention anything along the likes of that to him, you will never fuck me again, Dazai Osamu. Do you understand?”

Dazai is too relieved to even argue. “Yeah.”

“No more questions about my sex life,” you say firmly, and Dazai doesn’t respond, but he does agree internally because he doesn’t think his heart can handle any more scares like that. Your eyes sharpen again, and Dazai braces himself. “Were you the one to tell Mori I lied about being sick so I could skip out on the ball Mishima hosted when we were seventeen?”

Dazai’s eyes narrow right back at you and rather than answering, he shoots one of his own questions at you: “Were you the one to tell Mori I had his contact in my phone as ‘ignore’?”

You take his lack of an answer as an affirmative, correctly so. Dazai has no regrets about ratting you out to Mori because he was not about to attend Mishima’s event without you on his arm. He’d rather die. 

“You bastard, do you know the lengths I went to fake being sick? I wanted one night to relax without people breathing down my neck.”

“If I had to go, you had to go,” Dazai retorts petulantly. “I was not about to suffer with only Chuuya as company. You had no reason to tell Mori about the contact name besides to be petty. I fought with Chuuya for weeks because I thought he was the one to do it.”

You choke on a laugh. “Chuuya was so mad, he had no idea what you were talking about.”

“He tied me to a pole and swung me around for three hours,” Dazai complains, but there’s a smile on his lips as you burst into laughter, unable to stifle the giggles that spill from your lips.

“I know,” you wheeze, “I got it on video. We watch it sometimes when we’re bored and can’t find a movie.”

Dazai gapes, and you laugh harder, but for the first time in four years, Dazai finally feels… at home, he feels comfortable in his own skin again. He’s back in your penthouse, he’s drinking his favorite whiskey and smoking his favorite brand of cigarettes, you’re sitting at the kitchen table with him and laughing your head off at his expense, and for a moment, Dazai feels as if nothing has changed: he feels like himself again, eighteen and entirely enamored by the sight and sound of you, and you feel like you again, all of the doubt that had begun to rise to his chest as the two of you played the questions game long gone.

He falls in love with you all over again. Harder this time. Faster. He thinks he’ll fall in love with you again and again every day for the rest of your lives, each time more than the last, no matter how impossible it might seem.

He thinks maybe it’s not that he feels like he belongs with the Port Mafia more than the Agency. He thinks that it’s you. You’re the one he feels at home with. You’re the one he’s comfortable enough to be himself with. You’re the one he belongs with, always has, and always will.

After a few moments, you finally manage to get yourself under control, still giggling a bit as you look back up at him. Your smile is softer now, eyes gentle, more genuine than the smile you gave him before asking the first question. Dazai’s breath catches because when was the last time you looked at him like this—the last time anyone has looked at him like this? A warm feeling spreads through his chest; Dazai thinks he would stay in this moment forever if given the opportunity.

“Are you happy?” you ask quietly

Dazai blinks, startled, and an odd feeling spreads through his chest once your question registers. His lips part to answer, but no words leave them; he draws back as if he’s been slapped, a bit flustered and confused because that’s the furthest thing from what he expected you to ask. He wonders if you’d asked the last three questions to lull him into a false sense of security.

“I-” he starts to say but cuts himself off. “What kind of question is that?” 

He tries to deflect instead of properly answering, frowning, but you only raise your eyebrows, pointedly keeping your lips sealed to let him know that you expect an answer. He shakes his head and then sighs, bouncing the question in his head a few times before going for a cop-out: “When I’m with you? Always.”

You’re not pleased by his decision, frowning as you look away from him—he knows that’s not what you asked, not really, but you should have been clearer with your question if you wanted him to give you the answer you expected. But he doesn’t like the sudden disappointment on your face, it leaves his skin itchy and his chest longing for the soft look to return.

So he sits there, ruminating on the question. Is he happy? He should be, right? He’s saving people. He’s on the way to fulfilling Odasaku’s final request. He has a whole group of people whom he can rely on without having to fear being taken advantage of or betrayed at every corner. He’s happy.

But is he trying to convince himself of it? Why is he still trying to kill himself if he’s happy? Why is there a part of him that feels lonely no matter how surrounded he is by people? Why is it that when he’s at his lowest points, the only two people he wishes he could be with are you and Chuuya? Why does he ache for the days he’d spend dragging the two of you around Yokohama, causing trouble for Mori—the closest he’s ever felt to enjoying life?

“I don’t know,” he finally amends his answer, looking down at the bottle in front of him and the cinders of the cigarette dangling between his fingers. He lifts it to his lips again, taking one last drag of it as he tries to figure out what his last question should be.

There’s only one pressing question he has left, but he hesitates, unsure if he really wants to know your answer.

He forces it out anyway.

“Would you… would you have come with me back then?” His voice is quieter than he intended, cracks over ‘me’, and to your credit, you don’t react to the question, expression as eerily still as it was before, as if you’re considering your words.

A yes or no. It shouldn’t take this long for you to answer. Each second that passes feels like an eternity, and Dazai suddenly feels anxious, he doesn’t know why he asked this question because if the answer is no—if it’s no, then…

Finally, you let you a soft sigh, taking a sip of your wine as if to prolong his agony.

Your lashes flutter before you speak.

You lie for the first time that night.

“Yes.”

Dazai’s voice sounds far away as he says, “That’s a lie.”

“I guess you were right,” you say softly, but you sound so distant, like you’re on the opposite side of a long, empty tunnel and not sitting right in front of him. “We do still know each other decently well; you got them all right.”

Dazai doesn’t care. In fact, he would have gladly conceded a loss in this game, and he would’ve gladly admitted that maybe the two of you don’t know each other as well as you used to if it meant that he got the last question wrong because then he would’ve just given you a coy expression and asked if you’d let him get to know this new version of you too. You would’ve said yes, and he would’ve made quite the pleasurable night out of it for the two of you. Instead, he had to insist that nothing has changed, and now he has to come to terms with the fact that he was right and he had known you well enough back then to know not to ask you to leave with him because you would have chosen the Mafia over him. 

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even notice you approaching him until you’re leaning on the table next to him, index and middle finger coming beneath his chin to tilt his face up toward you. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes searching your face, but he only finds another blank slate that he can’t read. His breath hitches when your hand slides from his chin to cup his cheek, and he can’t help the way that he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut.

“I would choose you over so many things, Osamu.” You speak his given name for the first time in years, but he can hardly find any comfort in it because he knows he’s not going to like what you’re about to say. Your fingers card through the tips of his hair, brushing the dark locks behind his ear as your thumb sweeps over his cheekbone. “But not over the Port Mafia. Just like how you didn’t choose to stay for me.”

“It’s not the same,” he says, voice hoarse. “It’s-”

“It is,” you interrupt, voice deceptively gentle, and he thinks you’re entirely unfair because he can hardly focus with your touch distracting him. He’s missed it so much—he’s gone four years without it, without any type of touch that wasn’t him getting his shit kicked in by Kunikida or an enemy. “You didn’t choose to stay for me. I wouldn’t have chosen to leave for you.”

“Why?” Dazai asks tightly, and he hates that when his jaw tenses, you smooth your fingers over it, and he unclenches it immediately.

There’s a sadder look in your eye now as you give him a small smile. “You know why.”

Of course, he knows why. He feels the hatred deep in his gut as his mind draws back to Mori. Because that’s who the issue is. It’s not the Port Mafia. It’s not your friendship with Kouyou. It’s not even your friendship with Chuuya that’s the issue. It’s Mori and your undying loyalty to him. No matter how much you claim to despise him, bashing him every chance you get, sneering at him whenever he tries to treat you like his daughter, Dazai knows that when it comes down to it, you’ll always choose him. You’d throw yourself on a sword if he asked it of you, and not for the first time, Dazai wants to spit in the man’s face for making you feel as if you’re eternally indebted to him for rescuing you from that warzone so many years ago; for making you feel as if you’re nothing without the Mafia, nothing without him.

“You don’t owe him anything,” Dazai says tightly. “You have to know that by now—you don’t owe him anything.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation, Dazai,” you sigh, sounding tired. Your hand drops from his face, and Dazai longs for your touch again instantly. His fingers twitch from where they’re resting on his lap; he only barely stops himself from reaching out for you. You try to smile as you change the subject, but it hardly meets your eyes, “It’s a tie then. No prize for either of us, hm?”

Dazai is not so inclined to switch the subject. He wants to press on this now that he has the chance; he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to rip you out from beneath Mori’s thumb, but he needs to at least try… but you’re leaving again in the morning, and Dazai also does not want to ruin this night with you. He doesn’t know when he’ll get another.

So, instead, he matches your half-assed smile as he looks up at you and says, “I didn’t say you got them all right. You only said that I got them all right.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Did I get any wrong?” you ask, amused.

No.

“Yes.”

“Liar,” you say, but there’s a fond lilt to your tone as you let out another puff of air, the smile on your face finally reaching your eyes as you look down at him. The soft lighting of your kitchen casts a pretty glow over your face, your smile is so entrancing that Dazai thinks he could stare at it forever.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes out, the words slipping from his lips before he can stop them. “I’ve missed you so much.”

He’s sure he must look like a fool right now, entirely enamored by the sight of you, unable to even fathom drawing his gaze away. He wonders if you’ll protest again, call him a liar, and shift away from him.

You don’t.

The smile on your lips falls, and a wrecked expression crosses your face as your eyes search his. Your lips part to speak, and he waits with bated breath for whatever you’re about to say—he thinks that if you deny him again right now, it might completely shatter all of the walls he’d so carefully built to protect himself.

“I’ve missed you too,” you whisper as if you’re scared to speak the words out loud—and how can he blame you when the last time you dared to speak them, he hung up on you, never hearing from him again until tonight.

God, the guilt he feels whenever he thinks of you returns with a vengeance, so intense that Dazai starts to feel sick to his stomach. He can’t handle it, so he does the only thing he knows how to do to distract himself from it.

His movements are clumsy as he pushes himself up to his feet, nearly tripping over the leg of his chair, and his fingers feel clunky as he lifts them up to cup your cheeks. For a second, he fears that you might move away from him, but you don’t, so he leans in to press his lips against yours.

There’s no tenderness to his kiss. Dazai kisses you like he wants to consume you, lips sliding messily against yours, blunt nails indent crescents into your cheeks as he holds you close. Usually, he would be embarrassed by his blatant desperation and lack of finesse—he’s never been a sloppy kisser, when the two of you were younger, you would always let out pleased hums into his mouth, lashes fluttering as he worked his lips carefully against yours, tongue sliding against your own as he traces his name on it. 

All of his finely honed skill is thrown out the window now as he kisses you like a man who has been starved for years. He has been starved for years—the quick fuck in your office did nothing to quell the longing he’s felt for you the past four years. He could kiss you for hours. Days, even, and it still won’t be enough. Nothing short of an eternity with you would be enough to make up for the four years he’s been deprived of you.

He lets out a low groan into your mouth as you nip at his bottom lip, hands sliding from your face down to your hips. He’d take you here. Right now. But he remembers the last time he tried to fuck you on your kitchen table, it ended with him choking on the barrel of your gun as you yelled at him for being gross (“I eat on this table, you heathen!”) and he’s not particularly in the mood to set off your temper now that he finally has you in his arms again, so it’s with much restraint that he grabs you by the hips to walk you back into your bedroom.

He can hardly concentrate as your fingers twist the hair at the nape of his neck, soft moans slipping from his lips, muffled against your mouth. It’s only sheer instinct and muscle memory that has him making his way from the kitchen and down the hall. He can’t bring himself to separate his lips from yours for even a second. And he’s a mess because he’s not coherent enough to force himself to breathe properly through his nose, so his lungs are burning and his head feels a bit light, but he doesn’t care so long as it means he can keep kissing you.

Turn left, turn right, second door from the end of the hall. 

His fingers fumble for the knob of your bedroom door, pushing it open a bit too hard, considering the way he hears it slam against the wall and how you tug his hair hard in retaliation. He doesn’t care, moans a bit louder even when your nails scrape his stinging scalp, and you let out a derisive noise against his lips before biting down hard enough to draw blood.

The taste of iron makes a slow smile curl at his lips, walking you back toward the bed, and it’s only when your knees hit the edge that you finally pull away from him. “If you broke my door, you’re fixing it, Osamu.”

Dazai’s smile is lecherous. “I’m gonna break something alright,” he croons, relishing in the way you immediately roll your eyes at him. It’s all so familiar—he can almost pretend that he never left, that nothing has changed since the two of you were eighteen, dumb, reckless, and in love.

Before he can press you back against the bed, he feels your fingers drop from around his neck to his waistband, curling around his belt loops. In an instant, you’ve twisted the both of you around, and suddenly, it’s the back of Dazai’s knees pressed against the edge of the bed as you push him down onto the mattress. He hits the sheets with an ‘oof’ and a hazy smile, surrounded by the scent of you, drowning in the sight of you. He thinks he might be in heaven. 

You shift on top of him, straddling his waist; Dazai’s hands instantly come to rest on your thighs, sliding up the sides to grab your ass and pull you more firmly onto him. He groans when he feels you grind down against his cock, and god, he’s already hard just from kissing you. He hears you snort above him, but Dazai doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.

His lips part in a silent moan as you lean down to ghost kisses along his jaw, hands sliding up his chest. He feels you wrap your fingers around his bolo tie and tug it, you let out a sharp noise of distaste against his skin before murmuring: “I hate this ugly thing.”

He lets out a huff of laughter that quickly breaks off into a moan when your lips trail to the spot behind his ear that always makes him writhe. His fingers bite into your hips, pushing you down on him as he rocks his hips up into you—shit, he might be able to cum just from this. His cock is straining painfully against his beige pants, twitching as he grinds up against your clothed cunt. He thinks maybe if he fucks his hips upward a few more times, he might be able to push himself over the edge, but as desperate as he is to chase his release, he refuses to cum anywhere but inside of you.

Plus, he thinks he’ll be shamed to hell and back if he finishes in his pants with you hardly touching him. 

“Then strip me out of it,” he gasps, lashes fluttering as your teeth graze his pulse point right above the edge of his bandages. Fuck, he’d give anything for you to bite down—riddle him with marks he can’t cover so he can flaunt them off to everyone who looks at him. Dazai knows that there are countless men and women out there who’d die to be able to be called yours, he wants them to know he’s the only one who can take that honor. “What’re you waiting for?” 

You hum and then sit back on his hips—he bites his bottom lip raw as you unintentionally put even more pressure on his cock. He’s half dazed out, not realizing that your grip tightened on his bolo tie until you straight up yank it off of him, snapping the string around his neck.

“No!” he complains, watching with wide eyes and parted lips as you fling the now-broken bolo tie off to the side of your room. “Noooo, why’d you do that? I’m going to have to order a new one.”

“Boo-hoo,” you say dryly, hardly paying attention to him as your fingers curl around the hem of his vest, pulling it up over his head, snorting when he lets out a puff of irritation as his nose gets caught around the collar. 

“This is so unsexy,” he protests, rubbing his nose. “Shouldn’t you be more gentle?” 

“Stop wearing so many layers of clothes,” you retort, but Dazai is placated when you lean back down to kiss the corner of his lips, lashes fluttering as his eyes slide shut. He lets out a pleased hum as you kiss down his jaw, nimble fingers unbuttoning his final layer of clothing. He wishes he wore an undershirt just to watch you huff in annoyance. His breath catches as you nip at his skin and then murmur, “This better?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, voice wavering as you get down to the last button of his shirt, sliding it off of his shoulders and easing him out of it. His body shudders as your hands slide over the bandages wrapped around his abdomen. Fuck, it’s been so long since anyone’s touched him beneath his clothes, even with the bandages still acting as a layer between the two of you, his nerves are on end, sensitive to everywhere your fingers touch.

He wonders if you’ll pull off the bandages—it’s a line that the two of you only crossed once back then, and although the idea of it has him brimming with anxiety, he longs for the feeling of your skin flush to his.

He almost feels a bit embarrassed when you sit back again to admire him as if there’s not a scar-ridden body hidden beneath the bandages. You look at him like he’s beautiful, like he’s not a monster disguised as a man, like he’s human. Dazai has always felt distinctly seen beneath your stare like you can see through all of the masks he wears and see him for him, and that has not changed over the past four years.

He’s missed the comfort of it. He has. It used to unnerve him back then, thinking someone could see him so clearly when he tried so hard and so carefully to hide himself beneath layers of impenetrable masks, but after going four years alone, with no one for him to turn to, no one he could look at and have them just know what he’s thinking… 

Yosano once mentioned offhandedly that to be loved is to be seen, and Dazai thinks the only time he’s ever been seen—truly seen, down to his core, deep in his soul—is when he’s with you.

It was a very lonely four years without you.

“I thought about you every day,” Dazai tells you softly, the grip on your hips easing up as he looks up at you. “Made a list of places I wanted to bring you and then burned it because I never thought I’d get the chance to be with you again. Stared at old pictures of you all the time, couldn’t sleep without thinking about memories with you. Drank your favorite wine just so I could pretend I was tasting it off your lips.”

You bring your hand up to cup his cheek, and Dazai leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut again. He kisses your palm, humming softly when your thumb runs along his bottom lip.

“There wasn’t a single day I went without you crossing my mind,” you admit quietly and Dazai’s breath hitches as he stares up at you, dark eyes wide and lips parted. He thinks he should say something, anything really, but it’s a lost cause. You don’t seem to mind, luckily, because you only lean down to brush your lips against his again.

This kiss is softer than the last, lips trembling against yours as your tongue dances along his inner lip. He thinks his cheeks might feel wet but he doesn’t dare acknowledge it; you don’t either, only using your thumbs to brush away the tears as they spill over his cheeks.

“Are you really leaving again in the morning?” he finally asks, and he hates that his voice cracks over the words.

You hum in agreement, still hovering over him, still running your thumbs along his cheekbone. His lashes droop shut, but he forces them back open as you speak. “I am. Bright and early. Flight leaves at six.”

His gaze flickers to the left, over to where your alarm clock is set up on your nightstand. 

12:35

He looks back at you, eyes swimming with desperation.

You give him a soft, wry smile. “We should make the most of the night then, hm?”

He doesn’t waste any time on that.

His grip on your hip tightens, and in one swift motion, he flips the two of you around, elbows resting on the mattress on either side of your head as he hovers above you. Your eyes glitter as you give him a coy smile, and again, Dazai falls in love.

Then, he ruins the moment.

“Tell me how you fucked Chuuya.”

Your smile drops. “Osamu, what the fuck?”

“Tell me,” he pouts, nudging his nose against your cheek and peppering soft kisses on your cheek and down your neck. His knees drop to the bed on either side of your hips, holding up his weight as he reaches down to unbutton your slacks, sliding them off your body. A smile flickers onto his lips as his fingers graze your panties—drenched, finally, evidence that he’s not the only one so affected by this. “Tell me. Were you on top? Did he take you from behind? Was he rough? No, it’s Chuuya-”

“If you care so much about how Chuuya fucks, Osamu, how about you go fuck him yourself?” you interrupt him.

Dazai gags.

“Don’t ever say that again,” he says and then returns to his mission, fumbling with his own pants now as he tries to yank them and his briefs off, unable to hold back the relieved sigh when he finally frees his cock, unceremoniously tossing them to the floor. “Tell me.” 

“Why do you care so much, hm?” you ask, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I told you that you were better.”

You’re only trying to deflect from the question and he almost lets you succeed, partially placated, but he stays strong, leveling an unrelenting stare onto you as he waits for your answer. You sigh heavily, and he knows he’s won.

“Not rough,” you say as if Dazai hasn’t already come to that conclusion. Chuuya’s had a crush on you since the three of you were sixteen. Dazai assumed he had grown out of it, but evidently, he was wrong, considering he took the opportunity to sleep with Dazai’s girlfriend—because you were his girlfriend—the moment Dazai was out of the picture. What a little snake. Dazai needs to vandalize his apartment again. Maybe set up a few more bombs. He’s only drawn back from his mental spiral when you start talking again: “He took the lead. Wanted to see my face the whole time, make sure I was okay.”

“How gentlemanly of him,” Dazai says—he’s not bitter. He’s not.

“It was,” you agree, too genuinely.

Dazai squints at you hard. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say. “You asked.”

“You don’t need to sound so wistful.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Osamu, I’m not wistful.”

“How-”

“Are we going to talk about Nakahara Chuuya all night, or are you going to fuck me?” you interrupt immediately, looking increasingly incensed. Dazai only raises his chin at you pointedly—you’re the one that slept with Chuuya. “Time is dwindling, Osamu.”

Okay. 

Dazai’s gaze flickers back to the clock and then back down to you, withering a bit under your irritated stare. He sighs and leans back over you to kiss the corner of your lips, fingers curling around the hem of your panties to slide them off your legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his kisses linger against your skin now as he drags his lips down to your jaw. “The thought of him being with you…”

It makes Dazai want to do terrible things. The part of him that he locked up deep within rattles at the bars of its cage, furious and bloodthirsty. The trigger finger he’s been so careful to tame twitches with a desire he hasn’t felt in four years. The thought of anyone being with you makes Dazai sick to his stomach—Dazai is the only one who should get to see you like this, be with you like this—but the thought of Chuuya being with you is so much worse.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Osamu,” you tell him quietly, fingers intertwining with his hair as he nips at your neck. “No matter how much I slept around, nothing was ever able to fill the hole losing you left. Not even Chuuya.”

Dazai exhales, shaky—the guilt returns, and so does the doubt because what right does he have sitting here being petty about what you did while he was gone when he was the one who left you behind without so much as a word? His eyes flutter shut, he spares a few more chaste kisses across your throat before lifting his face back to yours, kissing you gently.

“Let me make up for lost time then,” he says softly.

He doesn’t hesitate now, one hand dropping down to your thigh, lifting it to wrap around his waist as he presses his hips into you. His breath shudders when his cock slips against your folds, a low moan spilling from his lips. He has to reach down to angle himself properly, tip pressing against your tight hole.

The fingers of his free hands are shaky as he lifts them to cup your cheek. “Look at me,” he says, heat spreading through his abdomen when he realizes you already can hardly hold your eyes open, quick breaths escaping your lips as you try to keep yourself from cumming already. “Look at me, I want to see you.”

Your eyes flutter open, lidded and heavy as you look up at him, and Dazai thinks that maybe he could cum just from the expression on your face alone, inhaling sharply as his thumb drags across your bottom lip. He thinks maybe he should try to get ahold of himself, fearing that if he pushes inside of you now, he might cum on the spot, but his cock is aching so badly that Dazai thinks he might die if he doesn’t feel your heat around him immediately.

It takes all of his strength to keep his eyes from sliding shut as he pushes inside of you, desperate to see the way your face twists and your breath catches. Your lips tremble, chest rising and falling rapidly, he can feel your thighs tightening around his waist, and Dazai groans when your heels dig into his lower back, forcing his hips flush to you, burying his cock deep in your cunt. He chokes, grip on your thigh bruising; his abdomen tightens, and his head feels light.

No way, he thinks, gritting his teeth as he tries to hold back the waves of pleasure threatening to tear through him. He hears you let out a huff of laughter beneath him, and Dazai would shut you up with a sharp thrust of your hips, but he’s still desperately trying to regain control over himself, so he thinks that’s maybe not the best idea.

His forehead drops to rest on the pillow next to your head, lips brushing your ear as he lets out a low moan. He can’t even savor the way you let out a full-body shudder, fingers coming up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. Fuck, you’re so tight—Dazai can feel your walls tightening around him, spasming, his breath is shaky, and he tries to distract himself by pressing his lips to your skin, mouthing messily at your skin, sucking and nipping and counting to ten as he tries to settle down.

But it’s hard with the soft sighs you’re letting out, the way your fingers catch on his tousled hair, tugging enough to make his scalp sting. His head is so fogged that he can hardly think straight—god, he’s missed this, he hasn’t had the comfort of letting himself go like this in… since he left, really. His mind is always turning, plotting out ten, twenty, thirty steps in advance in fear of making a mistake, slipping up and letting the rest of the Agency see him for what he is, slipping up and their lives being the price just like with Odasaku. It’s only with you that’s ever comfortable enough to finally let the cogs in his brain slow and shatter, lose himself in carnal pleasures, lose himself in you; it’s been four years since he’s last had a reprieve from his own brain.

But he only lets himself slip halfway—tonight isn’t going to be about him, it’s about you. He has four years to make up for and he intends on getting a good start on it tonight.

He pants quietly as he lifts his head enough to bite your earlobe, tugging it gently before pressing his lips to your temple. “I’ve missed this,” he admits, voice raspy and clogged thick with emotion. “I’ve-”

He can hardly get the words out, and his breath catches when your hands slide from behind his head to cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. He thinks he must look wrecked—he can already feel the sweat beading on his forehead, and he knows his eyes are probably glazed over. You still look stunning, a soft expression on your face as you look up at him as if he’s not buried to the hilt inside of you. 

Unfair, he thinks mournfully. 

“What're you still holding onto, hm?” you ask, and Dazai only barely registers your words, sinking into your touch as you brush matted hair out of his eyes. He can finally bring himself to roll his hips—experimental, slow, trying to make sure he can actually move before trying to fuck you. Then you sigh softly, and he’s too out of it to try to make out the expression on your face as you say: “You work yourself so hard… always have. I’ve got you, you can let go, Dazai. C’mon.”

“No,” he hums, but his voice is strained, evidence of his struggle. “Tonight’s about my favorite girl.”

“Favorite?” you tease, lifting your shoulders off the bed to ghost a kiss against his lips that nearly has his hips stuttering—the conversation so reminiscent of one that the two of you had at seventeen it almost makes him smile.

“Only,” he amends quietly, kissing your nose, then the corner of your lips, and then nipping your jawline.

Just when he thinks he’s good to actually start picking up the pace, intent on fucking the thoughts out of you until you forget about your stupid flight in the morning, he catches a suspicious expression on your face, one that has his eyes narrowing.

“What?” he asks dubiously; your eyes are glittering in a way that he knows from experience is dangerous. 

You don’t say anything, just look pointedly at your thighs, then up to his shoulders. Dazai tilts his head to the side, recognizing what you want, and after a moment’s hesitation, he slides your legs up above his shoulders, folding them to your chest, eyes nearly rolling back at the new angle. Fuck, his hips do stutter this time, breath hitching. He has to readjust again, mentally focus on not cumming on the spot, and then-

And then you say: “He had my legs like this.”

A trick. 

Dazai knows it. 

You’re trying to make him let go of the thin thread of self-control he still has. To give in. To let all of the gears in his brain finally fall apart for the first time in four years.

He knows it.

He falls for it anyway.

Dazai’s jaw tightens, gaze snapping down to you only to catch a goading look in your eyes, a sly smile on your lips that Dazai has every intention of fucking right off your face. He inhales sharply, one hand sliding up your body to grab your chin, blunt nails digging a bit too deeply into your cheeks.

“Yeah?” he says, voice rough. 

Your lashes flutter and lips part as Dazai pointedly jerks his hips up. Your breath catches over a moan, and Dazai knows that this new angle is affecting you just as much as it is him.

“Mhm,” you agree, and just like that, the thin thread snaps.

He snaps his hips into you so hard that your bedframe bangs loudly against the wall behind it, quickly setting a steady pace, nice and deep, quick enough that you can’t even get a breath of air to your lungs before Dazai is fucking it right out of you. Already, he’s so fucked out that his mind is in shambles, one hand settling on your hip to hold you in place as he thrusts his hips into you, hitting that sweet spot with each stroke while his other hand, still cupping your face, slides down to your neck.

He doesn’t squeeze—wouldn’t dare to cut off the pretty noises spilling from your lips, moans of his names, choked gasps and cries between each rock of his hips—but the fact that you trust him, him, enough to have his fingers wrapped around your throat is always a quick way make him topple over the edge.

His eyes dart down to your chest, realizing, very unfortunately, that you haven’t taken off your button-up yet. He nearly bites down on his tongue in frustration as his hand comes down to your chest, careful to keep the pace of his hips as he hooks his fingers around the first button just to yank down, popping off half of the buttons of your expensive dress shirt and haphazardly pulling it off of you to toss it to the side before fumbling with the clip of your bra.

“Osamu,” you hiss, and Dazai revels in the way your voice wavers with each thrust, biting back moans. “That’s the second-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence. Dazai tosses your bra over with your discarded shirt and dips his head down to wrap his lips around your nipple, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud before rolling it between his teeth, and you’re gone—Dazai lets out a muffled groan around you as your back arches up into him, crying out his name, walls tightening around him as you cum on his cock.

“Oh-f-hah-fuck,” Dazai gasps as he rests his head on your collarbone, grip on your waist tightening. 

He has to physically force himself to lift his head, bracing his forearm on the mattress next to your head, desperate to see the way your eyes roll back, he can already feel himself teetering over the edge—the lewd sound of skin-on-skin, the sloppiness of his cock driving in and out of your cunt, he can feel your cum dripping down his cock, smeared on his pelvis.

His hand slides behind your head, lifting it from where you have it pressed against the mattress. Beautiful—the only thought that can run through his hazy brain is of you and how perfect you are, lips swollen and bitten raw, parted as pitched moans escape them, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes as he fucks you through your orgasm and right into a second. He’s the only one that should ever get to see you like this, with your clever brain fucked right and dumb, body writhing against the bed as you cling to him.

He leans down again, trailing sloppy kisses against your neck, gasping as he starts to feel his high approaching.

“No one makes you feel like this,” he says, or maybe he begs, he’s not sure if he’s making a statement or pleading for you to tell him it’s the truth. “Tell me. T-shit-tell me.”

“No one,” you sob over another moan, and Dazai can feel your pussy fluttering around him—he wonders if he’s already fucked you into a third. Usually, it takes longer. “No one, Osamu, you’re the only one.”

And that’s the only thing he needed to hear to give him that final push. His steady pace shifts into a more erratic one, sloppy and desperate, as he chases a high that’s just out of reach. His moans are muffled against your skin, teeth scraping your collarbone, mind a jumbled mess of thoughts of you. He feels your fingers trembling as you lift them to his cheeks, pulling his face up to press your lips against his, and that’s all it takes: he lets out a wanton moan against your mouth, pressing your legs further into your chest as his hips still against your ass, finishing deep inside of you.

Spots dance in his vision, head buzzing and ears ringing; he swears his orgasm lasts an eternity, body shaking and shuddering above you, letting out breathy moans into your mouth. He can feel his cum dribbling out of you, pooling onto the sheets beneath the two of you, so much of it that you can’t even keep it all in you. 

He doesn’t let his lips leave yours once—the kisses are messy and sloppy, devoid of all of the finesse that the two of you usually have, teeth nearly clashing, tongues sliding against each other’s. 

It’s only when his vision finally starts to clear and his head feels less on the verge of passing out does Dazai finally trails kisses from your lips to your jaw and down your neck before he finally collapses on top of you, mind entirely gone, like he’s floating on clouds. He pants as he tries to catch his breath, eyes lidded as he absently trails kisses along your chest and collarbone. He thinks the world could be ending around the two of you, and Dazai wouldn’t even have the capacity to notice. For the first time in four years, he really, truly allows his brain to rest.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, eyes drooping shut as he lets himself be enveloped by your arms, drowning in the comfort of your scent.

He doesn’t want to know. He’s scared to look at the clock and check.

“Tonight was supposed to be about you,” Dazai finally complains, burying his face in your chest as he pouts.

You only let out a soft laugh above him. “We have the rest of our lives for that… You deserved a break, Osamu.”

The rest of our lives.

Dazai’s throat tightens, vision blurring a bit at the thought—he can only barely bring himself to respond, and the words that slip out are not what he means to say: “I never thought I’d get to be with you like this again,” he admits, voice hoarse. “I never thought-”

“I know,” you interrupt, voice quiet, a bit shaky. “... I know.”

Of course, you know.

He can’t bring himself to say anything else, so he doesn’t, sinking into your arms and allowing himself the comfort he’s deprived himself of for so long. He almost starts to drift off—and god, he can’t remember the last time he’s dozed off willingly, only able to sleep after drinking copious amounts of alcohol or taking an even more copious number of sleeping pills. It’s not until you speak again does he stir back awake from the brink of sleep.

“What did he ask of you? Oda, I mean,” you finally ask, fingers brushing through his dark hair, lulling him further to sleep.

Dazai thinks that you’re cruel, asking him while his mind is still fogged from the exhaustion following his high, and he’s still half asleep in your arms, trying to regain his bearings. The words slip out before he can think twice, forgetting his fear of you laughing at the idea of him trying to be a better man.

“He asked me to be on the side that saves people… if both are the same to me, he wanted me to be a good man.”

The words dawn on him too late; he can hardly bring himself to look up at you, scared that he’s going to find an amused expression on your face or a derisive sneer. He wouldn’t blame you, he’s thought the same about himself ever since he left the Port Mafia, doubt and self-loathing riddling him with every step he takes in the light. He waits for the scoff, he waits for the laugh, he waits for-

“... I think he would be proud of who you’ve become, Osamu. I think you’ve fulfilled his request.”

Dazai does look up at you now, feeling particularly vulnerable, still scared that he might find a mocking expression on your face but he doesn’t. Only an uncharacteristically soft expression is painted on your face as you look up at the ceiling, a genuine one—a small smile and a look in your eyes that makes his heart feel warm. You don’t notice him looking until he lets slip out:

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers. 

(I love you, he means)

“I’ve missed you too,” you say back quietly.

(I love you too)

[ilyrafe]

𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✧ 𝒓. 𝒄.

pairing: rafe cameron x f!reader

warnings: brief sexual innuendo, rafe being a softie!!!!

word count: 2.6k (i *might* have gotten carried away i'm so sorry lol)

a/n: this is a sequel to late night and also based on this, so thanks @keziahcore ! your mind is literally everything!

it’s almost like a sixth sense.

rafe feels your absence from the bed, and immediately becomes agitated. he turns on the lamp next to his bed and looks for any sign that you’re still there, and finds your small handbag on the armchair, which makes him just slightly relieved. 

when he looks at the clock, he sees that it is almost two in the morning. the bathroom door is ajar and the lights are off, which means you’re not there. before he can leave his room looking for you, you return, holding a glass of water, wearing only his shirt to cover yourself up.

“where were you? why did you leave me here?”

he can’t control this agony, this anguish that always catches him off guard when he finds himself alone. he can’t help feeling like a time bomb, ready to explode at any moment. the smallest things you do seem to trigger him massively, and he hates that. he hates that he ends up being rude and harsh to you, because you’re always so understanding and sweet.

even he knows he doesn’t deserve you.

“i was thirsty and went downstairs to drink some water.” your tone is sweet and calm, which makes him feel like shit.

his face changes, as he seems to calm down. you didn’t leave him, you just went to get some water. you’re there, your stuff is there, you’re not going anywhere.

“next time, leave a glass here. i don’t like it when you do that.” he says in a much softer tone, but he’s still upset that his sleep got interrupted.

“do what? get hydrated?” you joke, trying to lighten up his mood.

he rolls his eyes and huffs. don’t make him tell the truth.

“go back to bed. i’m tired, alright? i had a long day.”

“actually, i was going to read a book. i’m not sleepy and i don’t want to lie down right now.”

is it so hard to understand that he wants you to be close to him so that he feels safe enough to get a decent night’s sleep?

“you can read on the bed.”

“you won’t mind the lamp on?”

“no, just get the damn book and come back to bed.”

you laugh and nod, picking up the book from his desk and following him to his bed. rafe gets to his spot and as you sit down, he places one hand on your bare thigh and falls back to sleep almost immediately.

while he dives deep into his necessary rest, you start reading. it’s that book, in cold blood by truman capote. you don’t know if rafe is a reader, he never really talks about books with you.

every once in a while, you look down at your thighs to see his hand, firmly holding you, to make sure you won’t leave. this small gesture makes you feel stupid. stupid to believe he might feel something other than lust for you. rafe makes you question your beliefs and that itself makes you feel overwhelmed.

sometimes you want to leave, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. and you have tried countless times. he’s good for you in the same intensity he’s bad. to say you’re scared to ask him what you are would be an understatement, but you just would like some clarification, because you don’t beg the people you’re casually fucking to stay the night almost every night and throw a tantrum when they leave to get some water.

deep down, you know you’re more scared to hear you’re just an easy fuck. at this point, this would tear you apart.

being with rafe is a challenge. it’s like running a marathon you know you will not get to the finish line, and yet, you keep running.

when it’s almost four in the morning, you close the book and turn the lamp off. finally, sleep comes to you, and you settle into his bed, still holding rafe’s hand, which never left your thigh. with the touch, rafe wakes up, and this time he is no longer agitated.

“sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” you say, as you snuggle into the mattress.

“you- what time is it?” he asks, adorably confused and sleepy.

“it’s almost four.”

“and you’re going to sleep now?”

“yeah. go back to sleep, it’s early.” you say softly, placing a hand on his cheek, and he complies, pulling you close.

(...)

rafe’s alarm clock rings promptly at seven in the morning. he turns it off and goes back to his previous position: hugging you.

your hair smells like coconut and your skin is always soft. he never wants to not be touching you. it’s like your body was made to be next to his. for some reason, just your presence is enough to make him feel calm and at peace.

he places the softest kiss on your shoulder, enjoying the quietness that only early mornings can give him. the sweet sound of birds chirping outside makes him forget about everything else. rafe only has you in his mind (and in his arms).

you wake up and soon turn to face him. rafe has the most adorable sleepy face, and you might never stop melting over him. seeing him up close will never not be amazing. he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. he probably has the most beautiful shade of blue in his eyes.

“go back to sleep.” he whispers.

“‘m not sleepy anymore.” you mumble as you rub your eyes, which rafe finds captivating. “hi.”

“hi,” he smiles. “you only slept for three hours, sleep some more.” he insists, and you feel a tone of concern in his voice, but maybe it’s just your sleep giving you that impression.

“i’m okay, rafey.”

rafey. he hates that stupid nickname, but when it comes out of your mouth, he wants to legally change his name to it.

“you’re gonna be tired.”

“no, i’m not. i don’t normally sleep a lot.”

rafe frowns not because he’s confused - he obviously isn’t. he’s just not liking what you’re saying. he doesn’t like the idea of you struggling with whatever that may be. rafe knows damn well how bad it is to be sleep deprived, he doesn’t want you going through that.

“you have insomnia?”

“i guess i do,” you shrug. “i don’t really know. i just don’t sleep a lot. i wish i did, though. i get so jealous when i see you sleeping for hours on end.” you smile sweetly at him. “you’re so relaxed. must be nice…”

you let go of rafe after leaving a timid kiss on his lips, and stretch before getting up and going to his bathroom to start your morning routine.

after a quiet breakfast, rafe gives you a ride home, and he can’t hide his concern about what you said.

“i’ll see you around, yeah?” you tell him, with the sweetest smile you always have.

“of course. uh, about that sleep thing… if you need help with that… i’m here.”

“rafe, i think you might be a sex addict.” you joke, really not understanding what he meant. he isn’t talking about sex. the one time he isn’t talking about sex, you don’t get it.

“well, i’m just one call away.”

you chuckle and intend to kiss his cheek, but rafe is quick enough to turn his face and make you kiss his lips. you laugh at his antics.

silly rafe is your favorite. if only other people got to see this side of him.

he watches you leave his car and get inside your home. the strange feeling of loneliness comes back almost immediately, but it gets him thinking. it has to be some sort of irony that the person that quite literally helps him sleep isn’t sleeping.

(...)

only two days have passed and rafe already needs you to spend the night at his house again. he is so tired and exhausted. he takes out his phone and quickly types a message.

rafe: are u busy right now? can i pick u up?

you don’t tend to take long to respond to his texts, but this time, an hour goes by and nothing, so rafe starts to feel that unbearable anguish again, and starts to think that you left him and that you found someone better to spend you time with.

impulsively, rafe facetimes you, and you answer. from your face alone, he can see the tiredness in your eyes. or rather, in your dark circles. you’re in your bedroom, which makes him feel calmer.

“hi, rafey. sorry, i just got my phone.”

“what are you doing?”

“i’m studying for my exams.”

“i just wanted to know if i could pick you up.”

“i’dd love to,” you smile. “but it’s not a good idea, i need to study and i have a mountain of books to read until tomorrow if i want a good grade, which i do.”

“you’re tired, you should rest.” he advises, visibly worried.

“nothing a can of red bull can’t fix.” you say showing him the can.

“y/n, please go to sleep.”

something about his request makes you angry. maybe it’s the stress, or the fact that this time rafe is right.

“rafe, you’re not my boss. i need to hang up, i got shit to do.”

before he can protest, you hang up the call, and surprisingly, rafe doesn’t get angry. this is what it’s like when he’s sleep deprived.

as always, rafe wants to take control of the situation, so he puts on a hoodie, grabs his car keys and leaves his house to go to yours. it’s late at night, and rafe knows your parents are probably asleep.

the path is short, and soon he arrives in front of your house and the light is on in your bedroom, which tells him that you are still up. carefully, rafe gets out of his car and walks to the back of your residence, and climbs the wall, always making sure he doesn’t get caught by anyone. finally, rafe gets on the small balcony of your room and sees you surrounded by papers, books and notebooks. it’s a mess.

he knocks on the glass door, which startles you, but you soon calm down when you see it’s him. you almost run to open the door, but your face isn’t the happiest.

“what are you doing here, rafe?”

“nice to see you, too.” he ironizes as he steps inside your bedroom. “i have a proposition for you.”

“i’m so not in the mood, rafe…”

“listen to me.” he says. “i’ll… i’ll help you out with this stuff, as long as you let me help you sleep.”

“i don’t wanna have sex.”

“i’m not talking about sex.”

oh.

“you mean… sleep? like, really sleep?”

“yeah. i don’t like that you sleep so little. you’re becoming cranky.”

you chuckle at the last bit. you can’t stay mad at him, can you?

“that’s a nice offer, rafe, but what do you know about biology?”

“i’ll have you know i was a good student.” he pouts and you laugh. “even if i don’t know what you’re studying, i’ll help you out.”

it takes you a few seconds, but it’s decided. your body is about to give out, you really need to rest. you can’t absorb any more information. a good sleep might even help you learn whatever you need.

“okay.”

rafe smiles and it might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

you begin to organize all your notes and books on your desk and rafe begins to undress down to his underwear, and gets comfortable on your bed. he realizes this is his first time sleeping on your bed, and he already likes the faint smell of rosemary that your bedroom exudes.

you have such a pretty bedroom. the walls are painted in the softest shade of blue, and you have books everywhere. no wonder you’re so smart, you read a lot.

the wooden furniture gives an earthy feel to your room, contrasting with the delicacy of the light blue walls. in the photos of the small mural on the wall, rafe realizes that he wanted to be there, present in the photos, and maybe, in a photo with you. you are always smiling and being hugged by someone, or hugging them. you are like that, you are magnetic.

you finish organizing your things and quickly change into a shirt of rafe’s that you hope he doesn’t recognize. it’s big and comfortable, and it makes you feel close to him when he’s far away.

the lamp next to your bed is on, so you turn off the main light in your room and go to your bed, meeting rafe, and he has the smallest smile on his lips. it’s ironic how having sex and being naked doesn’t feel as intimate as simply sleeping together does.

“are your parents home?” he asks.

“no, why?”

“so i could have come through the door, huh.”

“yeah.” you laugh.

a brief moment of silence sits between you two, as you’re staring at each other’s eyes. rafe is mesmerized and terrified at the same time. this - whatever this is - feels so nice and so foreign. he knows damn well he isn’t one to want to just sleep with someone, let alone climb up a wall to just sleep with someone.

rafe cameron is in love, and he is utterly terrified.

“what are you thinking?” you ask in a whisper.

your blinks are getting slower and slower. rafe begins to run his hand through your hair, combing them back, and touching the skin of your neck and shoulders ever so softly.

thinking about how much i want to be with you and how fucking scared i am.

“nothin’. close your eyes.”

you do, not because he told you to, but because you couldn’t keep them open any longer. 

why do you feel the safest with someone as dangerous as rafe cameron? someone who deals with the shadiest people around, that has anger issues and violent behavior.

that tried to drown his own sister.

why none of that matters when you’re in his arms? are you actually insane?

probably.

(...)

as soon as you wake up, you see your bed empty, and rafe’s clothes are no longer on the floor, where he had left them last night. it was to be expected, but you still feel disappointed. he was so sweet last night.

when you look at the clock, it’s already past nine in the morning, which means you’ve slept, surprisingly, eight hours straight. damn, you really were sleep deprived.

the sound of your stomach begging for food makes you get out of bed.

when you leave your bedroom, you hear the sound of the tv on and get scared. slowly, without making any noise, you go down the stairs, trying to find out if your house has been invaded, but it would be strange, as it is daytime. soon you see rafe walking around your house.

he didn’t leave?

it’s like you’re not even there. you get to watch rafe make himself comfortable in your kitchen, looking for stuff to put on the table. there are two delivery bags on the counter, which means he bought food, but the gesture warms your heart, which was merely shattered.

“the cutlery is in the second drawer next to the sink.” you say, startling him a bit.

“jesus. can you, i don’t know, announce you’re in the room? i almost dropped your coffee.”

you laugh.

“sorry, rafey. what are you doing, i thought you had left.”

“uh, i bought breakfast for y- us.” he says. you look inside the bags and you can tell he ordered possibly everything you have eaten from that place. “c’mon, i ordered that vegan shit you like, your coffee and even a pretzel.”

you follow him to the table and you both begin helping yourselves. this isn’t your first time having breakfast with him, but it does feel like it’s a first.

for the first time, you don’t want to leave him.

i love feedback! let me know your thoughts! <3

[k3n-dyll]

||Men, minors, and ageless DNI

CW: 18+, wlw, fem!reader, pure smut, oral (r!recieving), fingering (r!recieving), cheating, arranged marriage mentioned, southern accent, Abby is implied to be a criminal for like a second, getting caught Word Count: 1,186 || Masterlist || Divider creds || Palestine Links

Notes ☆ Some 1800s cowgirl Abby smut to hold y'all over while I get the similarly set series started (I'm being nitpicky about my writing). Also, didn't mean for this to be long lol

➳ If you allow yourself to linger on the thought for a moment - to do a bit of mental gymnastics for the sake of getting this nagging feeling of guilt and shame to subside - this really isn't your fault.

Truly. It isn't. It's theirs.

You weren't the one that wanted to marry, and you sure as hell wouldn't have chosen this suitor of all of them. That was your pious father. Good intentions aside, he was the one that confined you to this life.

And your sorry excuse for a husband, well, he took the other half of the blame. He's never home, and when he is the man always seems to have more important things to do. Not that you really want his attention anyway, but still, it'd be nice to at least speak to the person you're forced to live with. Aside from when he wants to be inside of you, of course.

If not for them you wouldn't even be here.

If only your father hadn't mettled with your marriage status - let you become some sort of spinster instead. If your scraggly bearded husband had simply kept his shady business dealings in the back of a bar instead of inviting them to his home - her large, calloused hands wouldn't be caught so tightly around your hips. You wouldn't be sitting in the head chair of the office you weren't technically allowed to be in, but the one you had renovated, all the same, eyeing the perpetually unfinished paperwork on his desk in a sad attempt to keep yourself grounded.

"You taste so fuckin' good, y'know that?"

Abby's voice and the warm, wet feeling of her tongue dragging along your slit bring you out of your own head, hips bucking up slightly at the contact you've been all but whining for, while she just nipped and kissed at your inner thighs. You look down at the blonde positioned snugly between your legs with a furrowed brow, trying your best to seem disapproving though the moans you let out tell a different story.

Who does she think she is? Popping up at your front door in the middle of the day, knowing damn well your husband wasn't home from work. This had only happened a few times before and even so, you knew why she'd come over the moment you saw the smirk that tugged at the corner of her lips when you confirmed that the man of the house was out for the day.

She wanted to fuck you in his office this time. Defile the sacred workplace of the man she calls a "friend" simply to make you uncomfortable.

Her piercing blues gaze right back into your eyes, and while half her face is hidden underneath the fabric of your skirts, you can tell that smug smile is back by the way her eyes crinkle right before they close.

It's the last you see of her freckled face before your head is tossed back in pleasure, sinful moans flooding from your parted lips as she laps at your cunt. No amount of guilt or shame would ever make you feel low enough to tell her to stop - not when her tongue makes you squirm and twitch in ways your betrothed could only ever dream of doing.

Abby never fails to make herself seem like a woman starved, messily licking and sucking at your pulsing, puffy clit, slurping you up as if you were her first and last ever meal on this Earth.

And she'd be damned if she let you breathe for even a second.

She wants to hear you gasping, gulping for air before she allows herself to pull away and she does more even then. Pushing through a sore jaw and aching fingers without complaint for as long as you could handle it.

"A-Abby... can't take much more" You whine, your thighs squeezing onto either side of her flushed face as you gently palm at the top of her head.

A high-pitched whine escapes your throat at the curl of the two thick fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, a low, amused growl coming from Abby at the sound.

"Aw, c'mon baby. Y'got another one in there for me, don't you? You and I both know you won't get to feel this good for a long while once I'm gone" she speaks in that soft, honey-like tone that makes you weak in the knees. The gentle southern drawl laced within her every syllable sending shivers through your body at the sound alone. Looking down at her is a mistake you never fail to make in this circumstance. She knows what a simple look from her can do to you and she takes advantage of it without remorse, chuckling as she watches you nod in response.

"Atta girl" She lands a quick smack on your thigh before diving back into you, a concoction of spit and slick spilling down her chin and wetting the inner fabrics of your skirt, the only sound to accompany the smacking and sucking against your pussy being your whorish cries.

Your breathing becomes quicker and more shallow when you're close. Eyes glazing over as your jaw slacks, brows knitted together in desperation for another orgasm. Your tells are so predictable, yet so incredibly delicious to Abby. This is a state only she gets to see you in. Not that you've ever confirmed it aloud for her but it's clear to her that the pompous ass you're married to can't even make you cum.

"Say it, darlin'. C'mon, you know what I wanna hear" Abby growls, popping up from underneath your skirt, detaching her lips from around your clit, and replacing them with her thumb just to speak. Just to taunt you. You do know what she wants to hear, and part of you wants to roll your eyes at the thought. Maybe you would have if your head wasn't so blank. If you weren't so aware that she'd stop pumping her fingers inside of you completely if you didn't give her the satisfaction, maybe you would be so bold as to give her attitude.

"Only you - fuck! Only you can make me feel like this"

Abby chuckles

"Oh, I know, sweet thing. Now cum for me"

Your orgasm is blinding and loud. So much so that you don't even hear the front door open from downstairs. Nor do you hear the footsteps that follow, too occupied with rutting yourself onto her fingers, gushing with each snap of your hips. Abby is just as oblivious, lifting up from her place between your thighs to crash her lips onto yours, too focused on wanting you to taste yourself on her tongue to even notice the jingling office door doorknob.

It's only when you both hear the old door begin slowly creaking open that your attention is snatched from one another, expressions shifting from ones of lust and satisfaction to pure horror as you both make eye contact with the twisted-up, angry face of the man you had just slandered aloud. Your husband. Back home early from work

Shit.

Thanks for reading ☆ Reblogs appreciated

Taglist: @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery

[urhoneycombwitch]

just thinking of artist!eddie x muse!reader meet cute. cw reader dresses femme in this

“um… excuse me? pardon me. you can’t be touching that.”

Eddie spins to see someone walking across the room towards him (a very hot someone. in clicky heels and a tight black skirt that shows off a gorgeous slip of thigh.)

holding a clipboard against one waist, you point at him with your work-supplied ballpoint pen, sounding lightly flustered but firm all the same- “sorry, it’s just- you can’t touch the art. I know there’s no red rope around here, but not touching the artwork at a gallery, that’s kinda… just courtesy.”

Eddie takes his hand from the now-straightened framed photograph, then spreads his hands in a placating gesture, sheepish and charming smile fixed on you. “sorry-“ his eyes flick down to your name badge, and he says your name in that husky voice, “-must’ve gotten mixed up, thought this was the petting zoo area.”

You snort, intending to let him off the hook with just a warning. then you tap your pen against your clipboard, trying to maintain a professional composure without drooling.

flicking up and down his frame, you take in the tight black ripped jeans, black vine tattoos curling out from a cut-off tank, over the milky expanse of his broad shoulders, alongside the veins running up and down his forearms. smattered with hair.

Eddie’s looking at you the same way. like he’s hungry. the attention calls to you, makes your spine perk up, a little flare of excitement kicking at your heart rate.

you take the bait. turn to the wall of art, point at one of the other frames just to fill the charged silence. “so! um. do you like this body of work? I think it’s the best in the series so far.”

Eddie crosses his arms, gives you a look that you can’t quite decipher- amusement? suspicion? hard to say. you’re tracing the ridge of his ear with your gaze, sunlight streaming through the main entrance windows glinting off the multitude of rings nestled there.

under your attention, Eddie’s preening, and also hoping you keep talking to him as long as possible so he can memorize the way your tits look in that blouse and paint ‘em from memory (😵‍💫) “fancy yourself an art critic? go on, sweetheart- I’d love to hear your take.”

and those doey eyes almost drive you to distraction !!! but you give a very genuine review of Eddie’s newest work (having no idea you’re flattering the artist in person), and he’s smiling by the end of your impassioned response.

“wow. sounds like you really like this artist.”

“I really do!”

“…and if this artist asked you for your number, you’d say yes, right? ‘cuz you like him so much?”

and he’s got that same sweet and silly smile from earlier, eyebrows raised. and when you realize, you’re mortified. bringing up the clipboard in front of your face to hide like “oh my god. you’re Eddie Munson. the artist. and I yelled at you for touching your own art!! why did you let me do that!!”

he laughs, hand over his heart, earnest- “no, don’t apologize! it was a huge ego boost for me, didn’t know they’d have such a beautiful personal bodyguard for my stuff. you gotta let me take you out for a drink as thanks for your service.”

and he does this dorky off balance bow low to the ground and you’re looking over the top of your board giggling. his humor is just your type and you fall for each other before round two of drinks after your shift that night (and fall into each others BEDS. ayooooo.)

[her-favorite]

THE CONSEQUENCES; M. STURNIOLO

MATT STURNIOLO X F!READER

warnings: SMUT, sub!matt/dom!reader, mommy kink, boring ending but i honestly just wanted to finish this bc this was one of those rare occasions where i actually finish writing something in one day 😭

a/n: the pics are boring but i was too lazy to make it look prettier - also it’s always “pink lingerie” on smuts and as an avid black clothing wearer, i’m gonna keep writing about black clothes

wc: 2,971

SYNOPSIS: Mindlessly stealing a pair of your discarded panties, Matt decided to use them to his advantage.. until someone interrupts him..

-

Matt knew it was wrong; it was an invasion of privacy. But he couldn’t stop.

Ever since he found his best friends underwear in his bathroom after a shower, he didn’t know better than to take them at the time. It was after you had left and he did think of texting you, but something else got the better of him.

Now, almost every night, he lies in bed with the fabric in one hand and his dick in the other. Before he does it, he always tells himself that it’s a bad idea and that he needs to stop.. but he doesn’t want to. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel something more for you, anyway. Everything about you was intoxicating; and that’s how he ended up like that, laying in bed with your panties up to his nose.

The dark fabric was held tight in his grip as the bones in his hand became apparent. Moving the opposite palm against himself, Matt huffs out a groan as he keeps your private piece of clothing close to him.

It had only been a few minutes after you left. Matt made sure he heard the front door click close before throwing himself on his mattress and tugging down his pajama pants. He knew it was wrong, especially since you were just here… but the thought of you potentially wearing another pair of the panties he hid in his dresser drawer immediately got him going.

Bringing your underwear closer, something clicks in his mind. Pausing his movements, he takes the dark fabric in his right hand and wraps it around himself, experimentally stroking his hand with it. With a sharp inhale, his hand grows tighter as he moves it faster, desperate for release. His mind pictured you on top of him, the side of your panties scratching him slightly as you ride him. The thought of your hands resting on his stomach and your breasts bare as you hover above him drove him impossibly closer. He felt the fabric get stickier as seconds pass, too engrossed with the idea of you to care.

Too engaged with his movements and thoughts, his ears don’t pick up the sound of a door creaking, followed by footsteps. Letting out another groan, his back arches slightly, his wrist starting to grow tired. Though, he freezes once he hears his door click. With a sudden gasp, his eyes snap open and look toward his door. It was almost like you knew he was thinking of you because there you stood, frozen in place as you realized what you had just walked into.

“I-I’m so,” Matt starts, before a guttural moan interrupts him. Subconsciously squeezing his base, his eyes shut tightly, either from the sudden pleasure or because of how bad he wishes he could disappear from this situation. The girl he was just fantasizing about to get himself off was standing in front of him while he’s rubbing her panties against his dick.

“I’m so sorry, I-“ Matt begins again, too scared to even flinch as his body doesn’t move, hoping and wishing that the dark fabric covers as much as it could.

“Are those mine?” Were the first words to leave your mouth, shocking the man on the bed.

He stutters for a moment, before hesitantly nodding, knowing he had no other excuse to come up with (not that you’d believe him anyway). With a shaky breath, he swallows dryly, internally scolding and yelling at himself as he makes himself believe that now he’s just some perv to you. Stealing your underwear and using them to jerk off.. yeah, totally not weird, he sarcastically thinks to himself.

“How did you get them?” You continue, stepping a couple feet into his room and quietly shutting his door behind you. Matt’s eyes follow your movements, still shocked that his best friend caught him touching himself.

“Um,” he swallows, looking away from your prying eyes and down at his hands, only to realize his dominant one was still resting around his cock. Immediately pulling it away, he moves himself up against his headboard, digging his fingers into his silk sheets. “You left—”

“Put your hand back.” Your voice was stern as you took a few cautious steps forward, the front of your legs leaning against the foot of his bed. The confusion Matt felt was basically written on his face as he tries to process what you said to him. Your eyes followed the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his jaw clenching.

“What?” He whispers, just barely audible in the room. His eyes meet yours, his pupils beginning to dilate.

“I’m not repeating myself, Matt.” You say, still cautious incase he denies you. The fleeting thought is quickly forgotten once he listens to you, wrapping his large hand around his dick. With your panties covering it, you couldn’t see the full thing, but you were more than surprised by his size. “Now, how did you get them?” You ask, never taking your eyes away from him, watching the way he slowly sinks into his mattress from your gaze.

“You, um, you left them in my bathroom a couple days ago when you got out of the shower.” Matt explains, his fingers itching to move as they rest against his base. His chest rose and fell heavily as his breathing became labored. “I was gonna give them back—” He tries to defend himself, but his words come out jumbled. The tips of his ears are a bright red, showing his embarrassment.

“But instead you’re using them to get off.” You finish his sentence, your lips mindlessly curling up once you see the way his face heats up as his body tenses.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I know this is weird—”

“Keep going.”

Matt’s breathing hitches, his lips parting to ask you to repeat yourself before knowing better. He swallows heavily, beginning to follow your orders as he starts to move his hand. He was painfully hard by now. He always thought that if you’d ever catch him doing something like this, he’d immediately stop and apologize, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him needier. He always wondered what you’d be like if you both were to ever get together; would you be in control, would you be the one obeying him, would you be loud?

Exhaling harshly from the way his hand felt, Matt quickly purses his lips to stop any more sounds from leaving him. His eyes meet yours once he hears you tsk.

“I wanna hear you, Matt.” You say teasingly, leaning forward slightly to rest your hands on his shins. Matt whines as he watches you, his eyes thoughtlessly trailing down your neckline, centering in on your breasts. His hand speeds up, your panties still hanging around himself.

Propping yourself up on his bed, you sit between his legs, flickering your eyes from his movements and his face. Whimpers leave the boy’s lips as the knot inside his stomach grows tighter, the eye contact with you pulling him closer. Reaching forward, you take your underwear off of him, noticing the way his breath hiccups. Trailing your eyes over his entire body, you can’t deny how wet you were. Your best friend, and crush, was touching himself right in front of you.. to the thought of you.

His shirt still hung on his body, but it was pinched up enough to show his happy trail. “You look so pretty, Matt.” You mutter, bringing your hands up to hide under his shirt. He whines at your words, skin filling with goosebumps from your touch.

“Please,” he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut before looking down at you. Moans escape his pink lips as they grow dry, occasionally sticking his tongue out to wet them.

“Please what, baby?” You smirk, your hands still roaming his soft skin. His ears flourish redder as his humiliation grows, faux-irritated whines leaving his mouth.

“Please touch me.” Matt mutters, his back subtly arching from the name you called him. His hand never stopped as it went faster, but all he wanted was your touch. He knew that as soon as your hand came in contact with him, he’d be a goner.

“I am touching you, Matt.” You reply, the teasing tone in your voice evident. The smile on your face told Matt what you were doing, already sick of your teasing and you’ve barely done anything yet.

With another pitiful whimper, he chokes out, “please, mommy, I need you to touch my cock.” His blunt response surprises you, halting your movements. Once he realizes what slipped from his lips, his eyes widen as they meet yours. “Fuck, I, I’m so—”

“You need mommy, baby?” You tease him with his own words, moving closer to him. With a harsh swallow, Matt nods and starts to move his cramping hand away from himself. Following his lead, you wrap your hand around his dick, starting your movements slow. After a few seconds, you reach away, not without a loud whine from the man underneath you, and reach under your shirt to pull it off. The complaint from Matt immediately stops once he notices what you’re doing, his eyes wandering your body. Throwing the fabric on the floor, you lean forward and wrap your hands around him, stroking up and down. In your position, your arms push together, protruding your breasts forward.

Matt’s mouth opens in silent pleasure, his eyes ranging from between your boobs and your face. With his cock facing you, it was ultimately the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

“You’re so big, Matt. Taking it so good.” You say seductively, your hands never stopping their motion. Matt moans at your words, not only stroking his ego, but simultaneously striking that perfect cord inside of him. The piercing knot inside of his stomach became tighter and tighter, begging to be released.

“Fuck, I’m gonna,” Matt moans, his nails digging into his soft sheets. “Please mommy,” he whines, breathing heavy. Looking down at you, noticing your nod and raking his eyes over your position was his last straw. Arching his back as the band inside of him breaks, his breath hitches before a guttural moan leaves his lips, watching his cum drip down the crevice of your breasts, and just barely hitting the bottom of your chin.

“Did so good, sweetheart. Such a good boy.” Your words make him shudder, his cock already stiffening. Once his eyes open, he looks back down at you, gaping at the way you bring your hands up to your mouth to lick off the remaining taste of him. His breathing was still erratic, his chest heaving. You reach down to stick your thumbs into the waistband of your pants, pulling them down and discarding them on the floor beside you. A smile grows wide on your lips once you hear Matt’s breath audibly hitch. An almost identical pair to the panties he stole were tight-fitted around you, securing Matt’s suspicions.

“You like these, huh?” You ask rhetorically, your hands coming down to rest on your thighs, knowing how much it teased him from the longing look in his eyes. With a nod in response, you lean forward and press your palms underneath his shirt again. “You liked them so bad you had to keep some for yourself.” You mutter, your hands slowly bringing the loose fabric up as your hands move towards his shoulders.

As Matt’s cheeks tint pink, soft whines leave his lips from your teasing. Your touch alone shot electricity through his body, an insatiable need for you never satisfied. “I need you, mommy.” He whispers, his voice small as his hands reach for your thighs. His fingers dig into the plush skin, marking small crescent moon-shaped patterns on it.

“I know, sweetheart.” You coo, your hands reaching the top of his torso. “Can I take this off, baby?” With a quick nod from the man underneath you, your hands un-loop his arms through his shirt, throwing it somewhere neither of you cared about in the moment. You run your hands over his soft stomach, making a shiver pass through his spine. Chuckling softly at his reaction, you lean back and begin to strip yourself of your underwear. Straddling his lap, your bare center glides along his, resulting in his hands gripping your hips tightly.

“Fuck, mama,” Matt whines, inhaling sharply through his nose. You can tell he’s sore, but still so desperate for more. His tip was painfully red, the vein that made its way along the underside of his cock making itself apparent. Who knew it was so easy to get him so riled up..

“You gonna keep being my good boy, Matt?” You lean forward and rest your palms on his chest, subconsciously pushing your breasts together. With his eyes flickering between your chest and face, he nods, his Adam’s apple stuttering. “Words.”

“Yes, mommy, I’ll be your good boy.” He mumbles, as if he was shy to proclaim how much of a hold you had over him. Giving him the benefit of the doubt for now, you prop yourself up so you can sink down on him. Wincing slightly once he fits inside you, you take deep breaths as you lower yourself down. With a pitiful groan escaping the man, his eyes shut forcefully, his chest moving as erratic as it was before. With incoherent mumbles leaving his pink lips, sighs and moans interrupt him as he feels your walls clench around him.

Once you’ve grown accustomed to his size, you begin moving, watching his reaction. Bright blue eyes meet yours once they snap open from your sudden movements. “Faster, please,” he whines, his nails never relenting their violence against your skin. “Mommy, I cant—”

Before he can finish his sentence, you grab your panties that were lying beside you on the bed and stuff them into his mouth. With a moan from Matt, he looks up at you with the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen. That look alone could’ve made you cave.

“Since you don’t wanna shut up,” you bring yourself down on him harsher, eliciting a muffled groan from him. “I can make you.” Your fingers move away from his mouth, letting the now-wet fabric rest between his lips. A pathetic whine escapes him, his noises still being wavered by your underwear. Reaching up behind you, you quickly undo your bra clasp, sighing at the relief before throwing it behind you. As soon as you feel his palms creep up your sides, your hands envelope his wrists and pin them above his head. You knew how bad he wanted to touch you and you knew how bad you wanted to see him crumble.

“Did I say you could touch me, baby?” You ask, your hips never stopping as they move up and down on him. With a shake of his head, you notice the tears start to form in his eyes. “Are you gonna cry, sweetheart? This too much?” Your question was obviously rhetorical, not looking for a genuine answer, but Matt nodded anyway. With a hot tear rolling down the side of his face, a guttural moan shakes him when he feels you squeeze around him roughly. “You can take it.” You mutter, feeling that familiar tug inside you.

Matt’s words come out jumbled as he desperately tries to speak, your mind bidding them incoherent babbles. You could tell he was close again by the way he tensed up and how his hips occasionally thrusted upwards.

Leaning your forehead down, you rest it against his, your breath fanning against his open mouth. Pulling away one of your hands from his, you trail it down to remove the fabric from his lips. As your breaths collided, you both ached more and more for release.

“Feels so good, mommy.” His voice is small and hoarse, but he tries his best to let you know how good you’re making him feel.

“Yeah? Good.” With a soft response, you hesitate for a moment before leaning forward and pressing your lips to his. Without a second of thinking, Matt immediately cooperates, sucking your bottom lip sharply. Moaning softly into the kiss, you lick along his top lip, pushing into his mouth once he grants you permission.

Pulling away with a sharp inhale, your eyes slam shut as your forehead rests back against his. His hips thrust forward, hitting that perfect spot inside you, just seconds away from giving in.

“Wanna make you feel good, mommy.” He whispers, his eyes taking in your reaction. He continues his movements, getting off on your pleasure. As you both draw closer and closer to your climax, your breathing gets heavy as your eyes are kept on Matt. He holds it with you, making that band inside you snap. Moaning from the sudden pressure, your mouth opens in silent pleasure. Matt follows quickly, his breath hitching as he finishes for the second time that night.

After a few moments, you both have regulated your breathing and your head rests against his chest. Once you’ve gathered up the strength, you lean up and off of him, clenching your jaw before you throw yourself down on his bed next to him. Taking a second before looking over at him, you realize that he was already staring at you, silently wondering to yourself how someone can look so beautiful with tearstained cheeks.

“Hi.” You exhale, the both of you laughing softly.

“Hey.” Matt whispers, his eyes still taking in your state. Had anyone told him hours ago that he’d just had sex with his best friend, and crush, he would’ve scoffed and denied it. But now, as he sat naked beside you, he couldn’t be happier.

Who would’ve thought stealing your panties would lead to this?

[rookieloveskashi]

This Is How It Starts

Relationship: Hatake Kakashi x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI

Warnings: smut, dubcon? (sex pollen), porn with plot, confessions of feelings, voyeurism, masturbation, nipple play, 69, oral sex, cunnilingus, blow jobs, cum swallowing, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, POV Kakashi

Word Count: 9.3k (i have no excuse)

Summary: Kakashi is surprised to learn he'll be bringing you—a civilian—on his next mission. He takes every precaution he can think of, but what will he do when a strange new jutsu has an effect that he couldn't predict?

AO3 Link

Kakashi tucked his hands deep in his pockets as he waited for Tsunade’s office door to open. The report from his latest solo mission was stored in one of the front pouches of his flak vest, and he hoped he would manage to get in and out without a new mission scroll replacing it.

It had been nearly four months since Tsunade had been welcomed as Hokage to a village short on shinobi, and Kakashi hadn’t had an hour of free time since. At first, he had worried that his defeat at Itachi’s hands—or eyes, rather—would mean he’d lost some of the new Hokage’s confidence. But by this point, he wished that had been the case.

He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eye, figuring he may as well catch a few minutes of sleep while he had the chance. So when the door opened only a moment later, Kakashi chose to keep his head reclined and his eye closed, savoring a few more seconds of peace.

“She finally ready for me?” he asked, expecting to hear Shizune sigh before inviting him in.

“I think so…”

The voice that responded did not belong to Shizune. Kakashi finally opened his eye and there you were: the last person he expected to see coming out of the Hokage’s office.

You also happened to be the last person he would mind seeing, but that was another matter entirely.

“Y/N.” Kakashi felt his cheeks heat up as he fixed his posture and rubbed his sore neck. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“First time for everything I guess,” you smiled. “You getting back from a mission?”

Kakashi held up the scroll containing his mission report. “Turn in one, get assigned another.”

A genuine look of empathy colored your face. “I’m sorry.”

“Maah, it isn’t your fault,” he shrugged. “It’s just the way it is right now.”

“Kakashi!” Tsunade shouted from inside her office. “You just gonna stand out there all day?!”

“Duty calls,” he sighed.

“Good luck on your next assignment,” you offered. 

“Thank you.”

Kakashi lingered beside the door, watching for just a moment as you made your way toward the exit down the hall. His curiosity got the better of him, which he quickly made known as he walked into the Hokage’s office.

“What was Y/N doing here?”

Tsunade wore an unamused expression, keeping quiet as Kakashi approached her desk. The two spent a few seconds in a charged silence before she rolled her eyes. “Normally, I would say it’s none of your business, but it happens to be relevant to your next mission.”

Kakashi didn’t even have a chance to make a smart comment about being assigned yet another mission without rest. The fact that you were somehow involved nullified his exhaustion. “What’s going on?”

“We’ve gotten reports that suggest evidence of a forbidden jutsu being developed in the Land of Rivers. All we really know so far is that it’s explosive-based. I need you to go and learn everything you can about it; who’s behind it? What does it do? Is it something that requires a specific chakra nature, or does it have the potential to be more of a widespread problem? I want all the information you can get.”

“Okay… but what does that have to do with Y/N?”

“She’s going with you.”

His brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“We don’t have any sensory-type shinobi available.”

He would need to have a medic-nin check his hearing. Or maybe he had recently suffered an untreated blow to the head and just forgotten about it, because Tsunade’s statements just weren’t adding up. “I still don’t see what that has to do with Y/N. She isn’t any type of shinobi.”

“But she could have been.” Tsunade shuffled the papers that were stacked slightly haphazardly on the corner of her desk. “I’ve been looking over her files from her time at the Academy. She outclassed all her peers in terms of sensory skills; but she never took to combat, so the old regime considered her to be too much of a liability.”

That made sense with everything he knew about you. His own time at the Academy was so short, it didn’t overlap yours at all. He remembered hearing about a potential sensory-type dropping out, but at the time, he really hadn’t given it a second thought. Some people just weren’t made for the shinobi lifestyle, and while he could now recognize that fact without bitter judgment, the same couldn’t be said of his opinions back then.

Over the last year or two, he’d gotten to know you as someone kind and considerate, who was easily startled and prone to daydreaming. It made perfect sense that you were content living a civilian’s life; working at a tailor shop, which Kakashi just so happened to frequent with his arms full of battle-torn clothes. Every visit had caused his fledgling attraction to grow into the undeniable crush that he hadn’t yet figured out how to act on.

Admittedly, he’d been looking for an excuse to spend more time with you, but taking you on a mission wasn’t what he had in mind.

“I discussed it with her, and she’s willing to give it another try,” Tsunade continued. “In the future I see her as more of a specialized ninja anyways, probably doing more work with the Intelligence Department than actually going into the field. And that makes this mission basically perfect for her.”

“Right, if you ignore the part where you are sending her out in the field.”

“You’re only meant to gather information, not get into a fight,” she countered. “And even if something happens, who better to handle it than you?”

Kakashi leveled his most unimpressed stare at her, letting her know he wouldn’t be won over by cheap flattery.

“Hey, we have to work with what we’ve got. Assigning you to escort her was actually better than I could have hoped for. Flattery aside, you know you’re a strong shinobi. I have complete faith in you.”

“I still don’t feel right about this. She may have the makings of a great sensory-type, but she’s still a civilian.”

“Well, when you’re Hokage, it’ll be your call.”

“Don’t even joke,” he deadpanned.

“Just, look out for her, okay? I appreciate that she’s even willing to go out there. If she hates it and she never wants to consider being a ninja again, I’ll respect that and back off. But I want to give her the chance to make that decision for herself this time.”

On that—at least—Kakashi agreed.

Not to mention, if he didn’t take the mission, that wouldn’t stop Tsunade from sending you out there with the next clown who was available. He didn’t want any other shinobi to be assigned if it was your well-being on the line.

“I’ll protect her.”

“Great. I told her to meet you at the gate tomorrow morning at 7:00. We want to make a good impression, so don’t be late.”

Kakashi arrived at the gate a half-hour early, his weapons pouches full of sharp, polished kunai and shuriken, as well as explosive tags, smoke bombs, food pills, and anything else that could possibly be useful. Taking a civilian on a mission was even riskier than taking a team of brand-new genin; at least they had the basic skills taught at the Academy. You were coming to him with an affinity for sensing chakra, but that was about it. Instead of sleeping, he’d spent the night checking, double-checking, and triple-checking everything; he would not be caught unprepared for anything that might threaten you.

You arrived with Tsunade about twenty minutes later. Tsunade must have given you a spare uniform; the dark blue outfit looking out of place on your figure. You didn’t wear a flak vest, and Kakashi wondered if Tsunade seriously withheld that just because you weren’t properly ranked.

“Good morning,” you greeted him with a self-conscious smile. Kakashi could practically feel the nervousness rolling off of you in waves; from the way you toyed with your hair to the way you shifted your weight where you stood.

He didn’t want you to feel nervous. He wanted you to feel safe.

Safe with him, specifically.

“Alright, good luck on your first mission, Y/N!” Tsunade smiled, standing beside Kakashi and clapping her hand down on his shoulder with arguably too much force. “We’ve got you with the best of the best here, so just focus on identifying the chakra, and let this guy deal with everything else.”

Kakashi brushed Tsunade’s hand away, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “I didn’t realize you held me in such high regard.”

“Of course I do! Besides, you guys aren’t even going through any enemy territory. It’ll be a breeze.”

You remained skeptical, looking back and forth between them. “If you say so.”

She may have been overdoing it, but Tsunade was trying to calm your nerves, and he should be doing the same. “She’s right,” he addressed you. “I can understand that you’re nervous, but I swear: I won’t leave you to handle anything on your own.”

Your eyes met his, and Kakashi actually felt his heart skip a beat. There was no way he would let anything get to you.

Kakashi counted himself lucky that the mission was technically all within the Land of Fire’s borders, but he still kept a vigilant watch. Your nervousness abated with every mile that passed without incident, and by the time you arrived at the town near the Land of Rivers’ border, you were almost too carefree.

“Wow,” you gaped at the unfamiliar surroundings. “This place is way different from Konoha. Ah, look! So cool!”

While you took note of the various shops and food stalls lining the busy street, Kakashi only focused on the way certain men in the crowd were noticing you. He stepped up to your side, putting his hand on your lower back and guiding you away from your gawking admirers. “Stay close.”

“Hm? I thought this wasn’t enemy territory.”

“It isn’t,” he conceded, “but it isn’t guaranteed to be friendly either.”

“Oh, of course. That makes sense.”

Kakashi tried not to feel proud of the way you nudged yourself just a little closer to him. “I didn’t say that to scare you,” he added. “It’s just best to stay cautious.”

“Understood.”

“Let’s find a place to rest. Tsunade’s given us a stipend for food and lodging.”

“Oh, that’s not a bad deal.”

“I have to be honest; this isn’t typical. It depends on the rank of the mission, among other things. Normally, a mission like this would mean sleeping outdoors and living on shinobi rations.”

Your mouth flattened in a tight line. “I see.”

Tsunade would punch my lights out if she could hear me talking like this. “They aren’t that bad,” he hurried to add. “It’s only on the really long missions that I get tired of them. And of course we have bedrolls so it isn’t completely uncomfortable…”

“It’s alright,” you smiled. “You don’t have to sell me on the whole shinobi thing, even though I wouldn’t be surprised if Lady Tsunade asked you to.”

Kakashi nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “Not in so many words…”

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I wish she hadn’t laid it on so thick. I mean, what good is this mission as a trial run if she sets me up with all this extra stuff that I wouldn’t normally get?”

“You make a good point,” Kakashi agreed. “If you want, we could skip the inn, and spend this mission the way I assume it would really go.”

“Nah, let’s use it. I’m sure you don’t get the chance to take advantage of stuff like this too often. You might as well benefit from her scheming while you can.”

“If you insist,” he smirked.

He kept his hand on your back the rest of the way to the nearest inn, where he rented the cheapest room, knowing he would feel guilty if he used the opportunity to splurge. He realized his mistake as soon as he opened the door, internally screaming when he found that the room only contained one narrow bed.

Jiraiya would have a field day with this.

Kakashi immediately offered you the bed, laying out his bedroll before you felt pressured to start a charitable back and forth. He was the senior on this mission; it was his responsibility to make sure you were comfortable. And that did not include having him share the bed, much as he might wish differently.

As you both settled in, Kakashi tried just to focus on the mission ahead. According to Tsunade’s intel, all those who’d witnessed the jutsu had passed through the woods located southwest of the town. You two would search that area tomorrow in case the jutsu caster left any trace. With any luck, the search would turn up evidence quickly. 

“This way.”

Kakashi gestured for you to follow him, but he was impressed with how little he seemed to actually need to direct you. It didn’t feel like he was leading a civilian. True, an experienced shinobi would be able to read his movements and anticipate the orders before he gave them, but you were keeping up much better than he expected. Maybe it had to do with your sensory skills. Either way, Tsunade’s plans for you might just pan out after all.

He would have to examine his mixed feelings on that, later.

“I think I feel something,” you said. “A concentrated mass of chakra, but it feels strange. Not like when I can feel a person’s chakra.”

“It might be some kind of trap. Be careful where you step.”

You nodded and continued on your way through the forest, keeping your gaze low to the ground. Kakashi had told you what to look for, explaining how to spot wires and other hidden obstacles, and while you would need to get quicker at it, he was pleased to see you’d taken his lesson to heart. Your sensory skills would only help you if the tools were chakra-infused, so familiarity with basic traps would be vital.

“I think it’s coming from this plant.”

Kakashi headed toward you, watching as you started reaching toward a large bell-shaped flower. Just as he was about to reach you, the flower petals unfurled, revealing a small sphere covered in tags.

A paper bomb!?

Kakashi grabbed you by the waist and jumped away only a fraction of a second before the bomb exploded. You landed on your back, Kakashi hovering over you to shield you from the blast. But the explosion wasn’t the type he had been predicting. Where he thought it would be all heat and shrapnel, there was instead a thick cloud of translucent mist, shimmering like dew on a fragile spiderweb. A dud?

Maybe I shouldn’t have tackled her, then.

He couldn’t even feel the density of the mist; if it weren’t for the way it refracted light, he might not have known the bomb had done anything at all.

Kakashi looked down at you. Your eyes were locked on him, your chest rising and falling as you caught your breath. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“I think so,” you muttered. “Thanks.”

He scrambled to his feet, then held out his hand to help you up. “This is the chakra I felt,” you said, looking around. “Is it dangerous?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen this before.” Kakashi lifted his hitai-ate and opened his Sharingan to inspect the mist. It was difficult to make sense of what he was seeing. The substance hung in the air, a strange chakra aura hovering like fog. It had expanded in a thirty-meter radius from the source of the explosion—much wider than he had anticipated when he jumped backward. Something about seeing that cloud of chakra made his skin crawl. Even his mask felt too tight against his face.

Looking at you, he noticed some of the chakra had settled on your clothes and your face like pollen. He could even see it pass through your lips as you inhaled. Normally, it was instinctual for Kakashi to limit his breathing in the wake of an explosion. But he’d been so worried about protecting you, his instincts had failed him. He hadn’t even thought to warn you to hold your breath, either.

Whatever it was, it was in both of your systems now.

“We need to get out of it.” Kakashi scooped you into his arms, carrying you out of the cloud of chakra as quickly as he could. He was much faster than you were—it only made sense for him to carry you. At least, that’s what he told himself as he ran, trying to ignore the placement of his hands on your body. When he was clear of the mist and you could both breathe freely, he put you back on your feet. “How much did you inhale?”

“I don’t know… too much, probably. Oh Gods… I feel really warm. Is that bad?”

“I don’t know exactly; but don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.” He smiled at you, hoping to calm your nerves. “Let’s just get back to the inn, and regroup from there, okay?”

You nodded, putting on a brave face and following him on the way back into town. He could tell you felt guilty, but he didn’t know what else he could say. This jutsu was completely new to him.

Kakashi wished he had more medical training beyond bandaging his own wounds. Maybe there was some way he could be proactive. But with every step closer to the inn, he started to feel his own temperature rising. His flak vest felt gradually heavier on his shoulders and chest, causing his breathing to become more of a chore. He wiped his brow with his forearm and turned to look at you.

Your face was noticeably flushed, and you were panting despite the relaxed pace. You just looked so uncomfortable, tugging at your clothes as you tried to keep up.

“Is it getting worse?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “I’m really hot now, and lightheaded… dizzy… You don’t feel any of that?”

“I’m a bit warm too,” he agreed, “but I probably didn’t inhale as much as you.”

“I guess that’s an advantage of your mask,” you offered, lightly smiling before your face twisted into a grimace and you doubled over, clutching your stomach.

“What is it??”

“Cramp—” You took a few sharp breaths as you let the pain pass. He waited as patiently as he could until you turned and looked up at him with your eyes open wide, pupils so dilated he could barely see any color. Your face was red and your lips were parted, like you still couldn’t catch your breath.

“We’re almost back,” he encouraged you. “I’ve got you.”

He said it with the best of intentions, but by the time he got you back to town, you were pulling at the front of your shirt and fanning yourself with the fabric. Your skin had gone from flushed to feverish, and the dizziness had progressed to a point where you were unsteady as you walked. Kakashi tried to steady you by putting his hands on your waist, but you had tensed up so much in response that he shoved his clammy hands in his pockets for the rest of the trip.

As soon as you got in the room, you curled yourself onto the bed in the fetal position. You were rubbing your thighs together and running your hands up and down your sides. Kakashi felt hot under the collar as well, and seeing you writhe on the bed like that certainly wasn’t helping.

“D-do you need water?” he asked, trying to think of any way to help.

“No,” you groaned as you pressed your face into the mattress.

“What can I do—”

“Nothing.”

“Y/N, you have to talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

You whined. “It’s embarrassing.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed abo—”

“I’m horny, okay!??” you hissed. “It’s so bad I can’t even think straight. I feel like I’m going to boil out of my skin. I feel like I’m going to explode if I don’t…”

You trailed off with a groan, seemingly still in enough control of yourself to stop before finishing that sentence. But it was more than clear what you were about to say, and hearing you voice even that much of the truth forced Kakashi to acknowledge: that was exactly how he felt, too. The heat, the unsteadiness, the tightness in his groin. Loathe as he was to believe it, he understood what you both were up against.

Aphrodisiac.

Kakashi had heard of this type of technique before, but he never knew of anyone using it or being hit by it before. Honestly, he never even thought it was real. But his discomfort was already shifting into insistent pain, and he probably had less of the pollen in his system than you did. If this is how he felt, you had to be going insane.

Bigger problem: he had no idea what would happen if you didn’t do something about it. Is there any treatment other than…

Kakashi cleared his throat. “If you need to… take care of it, you can.”

Your cheeks burned even redder from embarrassment, but Kakashi noticed the way your fingers twitched like you’d been waiting for his permission. “Yeah?”

“I’ll just… watch. I mean—! Keep watch! From—” he frantically pointed to the door, “out there. I will go and guard the door.”

He waited for your answer, only recognizing your thighs rubbing together and the impatient look on your face five seconds too late.

“Right, sorry.” Kakashi slipped out of the room and quickly closed the door, sighing out a nervous exhale and letting his back hit the dense wood.

Idiot.

He brought his hands to his face, still warm from guilt and irritation at himself for saying such a stupid thing. But no wonder—there was so much blood swelling his dick that there was none left for his brain. The feeling between his legs was completely overbearing; heavy, tight, sensitive. Just the way his clothes were brushing against his dick had him biting his lip. 

He tried to clear his mind, putting his arms rigidly at his sides and taking another heavy breath. Unfortunately for Kakashi, that turned out to be a huge mistake. His sharp nose caught a hint of you inside the room, the scent of your arousal making his mouth water and his cock throb.

With that, his self-control went out the window.

His hand slipped under his waistband without command, his fingers wrapping around his shaft and beginning to slowly pump. His eyebrows pinched together, failing to process how his actions brought him twice as much desire as it relieved.

Knowing in the back of his mind how wrong it was, Kakashi pictured you as he touched himself; thinking of how fucking sexy you probably looked.

Would you lie on your back? Legs spread and fingers pumping in and out of your needy hole? Or maybe you’d straddle a pillow and take it for a ride, rubbing that swollen clit against the fabric. Fuck, what if you were in such a rush that you grabbed his pillow? Stuffed it between your legs and rode it into the mattress until you were out of breath and exhausted, leaving your scent saturated in the fabric so he could bury his nose in it later. Like a wild fucking animal.

Shame made his cheeks hot. It was so wrong, but he still couldn’t stop imagining all the ways you might be pleasuring yourself right now; right on the other side of the door. And what dirty thoughts might be running through your head? Was your need so strong that you didn’t have to have anything on your mind? Or could he dare to hope that your time in close proximity meant that he was on your mind? Kakashi pumped a little faster and imagined your pretty flushed face, eyes screwed shut and head full of thoughts of him. 

Knowing how twisted and perverted it was, he put his ear to the door and listened. He could hear the low creaking of the bed; the headboard lightly tapping against the wall in a precise rhythm. You were clearly trying to stay quiet, but your desperation had you huffing out muffled gasps and unsatisfied whines that made his cock ache in his grasp.

He could make you feel so much better. He could have you moaning and crying out his name. Kakashi… Kakashi—

“Kakashi…?”

His eye snapped open and he pulled his hand away from himself in a guilty rush. “A-are you finished?” he asked, sounding breathless and spent even though his dick was still painfully hard and twitching for attention. 

“It’s not working,” you groaned, frustration and anxiety in your voice.

He slowly pushed the door open, giving you time to shout or throw something if he was about to stumble into a scene he shouldn’t see. But you were just sitting cross-legged on the bed, your pants on the floor and your lap covered by a pillow that he couldn’t help but be jealous of. He forced himself to ignore the now overpowering scent of your sex permeating the air; as if he needed more proof of your efforts.

“It isn’t enough.” You looked up at him with red, desperate eyes. “What’s happening?”

Kakashi moved without thinking, kneeling down in front of you at the foot of the bed and cupping your jaw in his palm. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“How?” You nuzzled into his palm, visibly calmed by his touch. Your cheek was so soft, so smooth… He stroked your skin with his thumb, forgetting for a second that he had no right to touch you—especially not with the hand he’d just had shoved down his pants.

Kakashi moved to pull his hand away from you, but you reached up and held him in place. “Don’t…” you breathed. “It feels good.”

“Y/N…” he warned.

“I’m sorry,” you whined, although you hardly seemed sorry with the way you reached your other hand forward and grabbed the front of his vest, pulling him closer. “It just… fuck, Kakashi, it hurts. I don’t know what to do.”

You looked him in the eye. “I think… I think I need you.”

The pained tone of your voice cut him deeper than any blade ever had. But he didn’t know what to do, either. He was responsible for you. It was his own fault this was happening to you in the first place. He should have protected you and prevented it, but he had failed. Miserably. Completely blown it.

So… the least I can do at this point is try to help, right?

No. It would be wrong. It would be so incredibly despicably wrong. Despite the lewd way he’d already thought about you, and the painful throbbing between his own legs. 

“I can’t.” He leaned slightly back. “I can’t take advantage of you like that.”

“You breathed it in too,” you said. “It’s not taking advantage.”

“It is,” he insisted. “Even if I tell myself it’s just to help you… it won’t be that for me.”

“Kakash—”

“I have feelings for you, Y/N.” He blurted the truth before he could stop himself. “And I hate to see you in pain but I can’t pretend like I’d be sleeping with you just to get whatever the hell this is out of our systems. I want you. For a while now; not just because of some stupid airborne—”

“Kakashi.” You put both hands on either side of his face. “I want you too.”

Could that be true? Or was it just the poison talking? Why would you want someone like him, who would only complicate your life?

“Y/N, you don’t—”

“Please,” you begged. “Just listen. I won’t have the courage to admit this later.”

You renewed your hold on his jaw, making sure he gave you his full attention. “I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. I didn’t even think I was any good at hiding it; I thought that might have been one of the reasons Lady Tsunade assigned you to the mission with me; because she knew I had a crush on you and she probably figured I would be more likely to do this if it meant being around you. Which, honestly, if that was her plan then she was right. I was too scared to come out here until she said I’d be going with you.”

“R-really?”

“Really, Kakashi. I don’t want to be a shinobi. I didn’t even really want to when I was a kid. I was relieved when I left the program. And I was terrified when Lady Tsunade asked me to do this. I only agreed because I wanted to be with you. And I thought maybe—best case scenario—I could help you in some way and impress you because, I mean, I’m nobody and you’re you. You could have anybody you want, and if you’re saying that it’s me… Kakashi, you have me. You’ve had me the whole time. So at the risk of sounding like an Icha Icha character, just take me already.”

He laughed; caught off guard that someone so funny and bright and beautiful would ever feel that way about him. But the way you apparently felt about yourself was even harder to believe. “You aren’t nobody, Y/N,” Kakashi promised. “And I would tell you everything that’s incredible about you if I weren’t so distracted by how badly I want to kiss you.”

You blushed, your eyes shifting down to his covered mouth. “Can I take off your mask?”

Kakashi nodded. You adjusted your hold on him, gently hooking your fingertips under his mask and slowly tugging it down. He noticed your body start to tremble impatiently, and it made his heart melt; how you still moved slowly, prioritizing his comfort over yours. Your eyes roamed over every centimeter of skin you exposed, taking it in bit by bit until his mask was fully down.

You let the material fall from your fingers, your eyes lingering on his lips. “You’re sure?” you whispered.

“I want you, Y/N. Nobody else.”

He let you look for two more seconds, until he couldn’t hold back any longer. Urgently, he used his grip on your jaw to pull you forward, bringing your mouth to his and kissing you with hunger. You moaned against him, dipping your fingers into his hair and tugging to get him closer, shifting your legs to wrap them around his torso. In turn, he dropped his hands to your waist and hugged you close, kissing you over and over and over again. He couldn’t get enough. The feel and taste of your lips had him going out of his mind; even just the sound of each kiss drew him back in.

“Mmm, Kakashi…” You hummed between kisses, sighing his name into his mouth and running your fingers through his hair. 

He put his hand on your shoulder and steadied you as he pulled back—only an inch. “I need to know this is real,” he panted. “I don’t want you to regret anything.”

“The only thing I regret is not telling you how I feel sooner,” you smiled. “Sounds like we could have been doing this for a while now.”

Like a force that only nature itself could produce, you and Kakashi came back together, his tongue snaking its way into your mouth as you tugged at his shirt. He crawled forward, causing you to lie flat on the bed. He grabbed the pillow you’d held between your legs and tossed it across the room. He may have been fantasizing about that pillow before, but now it was only an object in his way.

Nothing was going to keep him from you anymore.

He prowled over you, letting his heavy bulge press against your clothed core. Your body was warm to the touch, and he felt the heat between your legs as you rubbed against him. You each moaned into the other’s mouth at the contact. Despite the layers of fabric between you, rubbing himself between your legs still brought him a thousand times more relief than his hand had. He could only imagine how good your bare cunt would feel.

Soon, he would do so much more than imagine. And it seemed you had the same idea.

“Take off your clothes,” you grinned as you unzipped his vest.

Kakashi hummed as he shrugged off the garment without breaking the kiss. “The mask wasn’t enough?” he teased.

“Not even close.”

Kakashi gripped the front of his shirt and tore it over his head, admiring the way you blushed even harder at the sight of more of his skin, your eyes enjoying everything from his collarbones to his silver happy trail. He raised an eyebrow, silently asking for permission to undress you as well. You nodded, letting him lift your shirt off over your head and giving him access to your gorgeous tits that he’d thought about on more than one occasion; when he couldn’t fall asleep without getting himself off.

He leaned down to suck harsh kisses into the soft flesh of your exposed cleavage. It felt so right to have you on his lips. He couldn’t resist the urge to bite down, leaving teeth marks all across your chest while you giggled and squirmed in his hold.

With every ounce of skill he had, Kakashi reached around your back to unhook your bra, flinging it away from your chest and groping your breasts like the shallow pervert he didn’t want you to think he was, in spite of his actions. But he didn’t stand a chance. Back home, you’d nearly caught him (more than once) ogling your chest in the midst of casual small-talk. Denying himself now—with you so beautiful and willing underneath him—would have been out of the question. And they were just so soft, reacting eagerly to the feeling of his rough palms and fingertips. If not for the influence of the pollen, he would have been happy to play with your tits all day.

Your nipples pebbled under his touch, creating the perfect peak for him to suck into his mouth. His name continued to tumble off your lips like a prayer. He never wanted you to stop saying it. It sounded so good in your breathless voice. Kakashi tested your limits by trapping your nipple between his teeth, biting down with more and more pressure until you were pulling on his hair and trembling below him.

“Shhhhh.” He licked your nipple to soothe it, apologizing for the rough treatment. “Just needed to see how much you could take.”

You laughed. “What exactly are you planning to do to me?”

His answer came in an emphatic groan. “Everything you’ll let me do.”

You pulled his mouth back to yours, kissing him harder and rolling your hips into him. “Pants—” you gasped. “Off.”

Kakashi chuckled against your lips, reluctantly pulling away and sitting up on his knees. He flicked open the button of his pants and grabbed the waistband of both his pants and his briefs, pulling them down slowly. It had less to do with teasing you and more do with making sure he didn’t cum in his pants, but the tortured and hungry look on your face was certainly a bonus.

Your eyes darkened as he exposed himself inch by inch; his skin taut and sensitive, veins standing out prominently all the way down his shaft. Finally, he took pity on you, bringing the elastic down past his engorged head. His cock sprang up and smacked into his stomach, a wet glob of precum sticking to his abs.

“Gods… Kakashi…” Your lips parted, your tongue darting out to wet them. “You’re so big.”

You started crawling forward, eyes hungrily glued to his dick. It twitched for your attention with the same persistent need he felt throughout his whole body. His fingers twitched with the ache to touch you; his lips tingling—needing contact with your skin.

Desperately, he reached out and pulled you to your knees to kiss you. You giggled and slid your hand down his chest, cupping his hot, weeping cock with a gentle grip that turned him into putty.

You maneuvered your hand around him, touching and stroking to familiarize yourself with his size and weight. Kakashi’s head tilted back as he let out a deep groan from deep in his chest.

“Feel good?” you whispered, kissing your way from his jaw down his neck. 

Kakashi was so turned on, he was afraid to speak—afraid that he wouldn’t be able to make a sound beyond a pathetic mewl. Instead, he settled for vigorously nodding his head. Shivers erupted along his skin. The only thing on his mind was the need for more relief. His hand flew up to envelope yours, urging you to pump faster. “Keep touching me,” he exhaled. “Fuck.”

Teasingly, you started moving your mouth down the planes of his chest. “I want to taste it.”

Kakashi threaded his free hand into your hair, pulling your mouth back to his a bit more roughly than he would have if he’d been in his right mind. “Wanna taste you too,” he moaned. “Need to.”

He tossed you back onto the bed, crouching down and positioning his face between your legs. The center of your panties was drenched, and his eyes dilated like a predator locked on its prey.

Kakashi pressed his face against your panties, inhaling your scent and exhaling in a shaky groan. You smelled like something to be devoured, and he would be damned if he let it go to waste. His mouth watered, nearly as wet as your cunt. “You smell so fucking good.”

He couldn’t wait anymore. Kakashi flattened his tongue and licked along the drenched fabric, too impatient to think to take them off. You squirmed and tugged on his hair, breathless moans and pleas falling from your lips. He rutted into the mattress, kicking his pants and boxers off as he yanked your panties to the side and lapped at the mess between your legs.

It was incredible, but those panties were gonna be the death of him. Kakashi reached into his pile of discarded clothes, hooking the end of a kunai on one finger. He spun it around the digit to adjust his grip before cutting your panties down to shreds so he could finally have full access to your heat.

Now that there was no pesky underwear in his way, he hooked his arms under your thighs and rubbed your pussy over his face until he was covered in your juices. You squirmed, but there was no way he was letting your cunt get away from his mouth. Kakashi feasted on you like a man who’d lived on nothing but bread and water his whole life.

Dumb lustful indecision fogged his brain and made his muscles clench with impatience. If he had his way, he would go slowly. Enjoy himself. He would savor you; kiss and lick and suck until your cute little cunt was prepped to handle him. But the influence of the chakra pollen was too strong. His cock was no longer begging for attention—it was demanding. And humping the mattress wasn’t gonna cut it.

Not that he would settle for that, anyway. His aching hardness would only be soothed by the softness of your body.

Kakashi huffed in frustration, summoning the strength to tear his face from between your legs in order to climb fully on top of you. He pushed his thumb into your mouth, gripping your jaw and urging it open before rubbing his thumb over your tongue. “Need this.”

You looked so fucking cute, nodding with your wide eyes and your pink cheeks, and Kakashi wished he was in the right mind to take his time with you. He was as careful as he could manage, rolling onto his back and manhandling you into position above him—on all fours, your cunt poised just over his face and your mouth inches from his dick.

“There we go,” he proudly grinned, grabbing two handfuls of your ass and pulling you down to smother himself.

You moaned as you rolled your hips into him, desperate to ride his face. You bit down on his hip before licking one long trail from his navel down to his lap and up the length of his throbbing cock. 

His hips automatically lifted off the mattress to follow you. Kakashi shuddered as his head slipped past your lips and found its home in the warmth of your mouth. The long-awaited pleasure was indescribable; he only knew that nothing had ever felt this good, and he would be lucky to last five minutes.

Kakashi buried his face in your dripping cunt, wasting no time before running his tongue and nose through your slippery folds. You whimpered, grinding down on his face and forcing your own mouth further down his shaft while you pumped the base with your hand to make up for what you couldn’t fit.

He snarled against your folds when he felt you take his tip into your throat, gagging and sputtering while saliva drooled from your mouth. He lapped at your clit with frenzied licks, desperate to make you cum before he blew his load down your throat. Your clit throbbed, still so unsatisfied despite your earlier struggle.

You said you needed him. He had to prove how good he could make you feel.

Kakashi focused all his efforts on your clit, expertly reading your reactions and memorizing what was too much and what made you search for more. When he felt your thighs tremble, he locked down his pace and pressure, single-mindedly working you to an orgasm that left his face a sopping mess.

He kissed your hole like it was your mouth, lazily licking up your juices from your still-quivering cunt. Even at the height of your orgasm, you were still spoiling his cock—sucking and licking and pumping—and now that he’d finally gotten you off, he was more than ready to do the same.

Kakashi threaded his fingers up your scalp and through your hair, gripping you and bracing you before he started thrusting into your mouth. He felt more of your saliva drooling down his shaft and dripping onto his balls, easing his frenzied movements. With only his own pleasure on his mind, he felt his nerves race to the edge almost immediately.

“Shit… I’m gonna cum…” he panted. “Will you swallow it for me?”

You responded by humming around his dick, massaging his balls to encourage him.

“Fuck—” he grunted, “Get ready, ahh—”

The first pulse was almost blindingly satisfying. Kakashi quickly let go of your head so he wouldn’t drown you, too relieved to be embarrassed by how much cum was spurting from his tip. It felt like it would never stop, making his eyes roll back in euphoric bliss.

He wrapped his arms around your hips and hugged to bring your cunt back to his face, pressing a flurry of kisses over your folds while you drank down everything he gave you. Rather than feeling overstimulated as his cock twitched one last dry time, he instead felt his body giving itself back over to the pleasure of your mouth. It still just felt good, and he could tell from the way you were riding his face that your satisfaction was short-lived, too.

It took more willpower than he was willing to admit to pull himself away from you. “Y/N. Hold on—come here.”

You crawled your way up his body, leaving wet kisses trailing from his pelvis up to his jaw. Kakashi positioned you to lay on top of him, pulling your mouth to his and indulging in another set of deep, passionate kisses.

He smirked against your lips when he felt you start to roll your hips into him. “You want more, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you whined. “I’m sorry; it felt better at first, but…”

Kakashi settled you with another kiss. “It’s okay. I know what you mean.”

“You too?”

He reached between your bodies, gripping his cock and sighing at the pleasure. “It shouldn’t be possible for me to still be this hard.”

You looked away bashfully. “I’m sorry I got us into this.”

“I’m not.” Kakashi rolled over to put you on your back. “True, I didn’t imagine it would happen quite like this,” he blushed, “but I did imagine this more often than I should admit.” He kissed you again, hoping he could explain himself without his greedy dick undermining his words. “I’ve imagined a whole life with you. And if this is how it starts… I’m not sorry at all.”

“Kakashi…” you whispered, blinking up at him before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and clutching him close. You pulled him into another kiss, your fingers burrowing into the roots of his hair. “In that case, neither am I.”

Kakashi cupped your head in his hand and cradled you as he deepened the kiss. He could feel your body humming with anticipation below him. He ran his other hand down the outline of your body, taking his time as much as he could stand.

“You’re so beautiful,” he exhaled. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Please…” You whined against his mouth, titling your hips for friction. “Kashi, I need you.”

He smirked, kissing you one more time before sitting back on his calves. His eyes roamed your body hungrily as he gripped his cock. “Normally, it would hurt my pride that you still needed more…” He stroked himself once, twice before slapping his cock down on your tummy. “…But hearing you beg for my cock definitely makes up for it.”

You blindly reached forward and dug your nails into his thighs. “Gods, please put it in…”

His dick throbbed, a pearly string of precum dripping onto your stomach. You were absolutely gorgeous, and he had you pinned to the mattress, begging him to destroy you. 

He rubbed his cock along your slippery folds, his sticky precum mixing with your arousal. The relief from that alone was nearly indescribable. But still, Kakashi felt like if he didn’t get to sink his cock inside your perfect little hole, he wouldn’t survive.

You shamelessly squirmed beneath him, and he knew you felt the same as he did.

“You need this cock, baby?”

“I do Kakashi I need it so bad…”

“Don’t worry,” he cooed. “I’ll give you anything you ask for.”

Kakashi lined himself up with your entrance; something in his brain snapping at the sight of being so close. His hips thrust forward, burying nearly his entire length in one shot. You shrieked, clawing at his back while wrapping your legs around his hips. Your plush walls sucked him in, the pleasure so immediate that he collapsed down onto your chest, his hips instinctively rearing back and plunging forward to feel more and more.

Kakashi forced himself to slow down, peppering soothing kisses over your shoulder. “Sorry,” he huffed, unable to suppress the grin spreading over his face. “It’s just so hard to hold back. I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

“Me too,” you panted, thrusting up to meet him. “Keep going. Please.”

Your mouth had felt incredible. But your cunt—it was where his dick belonged. It was designed for him. Even with all the teasing and foreplay, you were still so tight. And soft. And warm. And wet. Walls gripping him, suction pulling him in, drawing him deeper; he couldn’t fight it. He was only human. But in that moment, he could swear you were something more.

“Fuck… you feel so good, better than I even—hgnh, Y/N baby…”

Your breath passed by his ear in overwhelmed whimpers that were lost in the loud smacks of his skin against yours. He was reaching so deep, he swore he felt the tip of his cock prodding at your cervix. 

“T-tell me if I’m hurting you,” he panted, letting his hips continue to slam into yours. “If it’s too much, I’ll…”

You’ll what? …Stop?

Even the thought of stopping made him grind his teeth in protest. His hips thrust even harder, proving that he had no say in the matter. 

Stopping was not an option. He was gonna fuck your needy, precious little cunt until it was ruined. And maybe then some. 

Your nails dug deeper into his back, his name rolling off your lips in desperate gasps mixed with tiny sounds of frustration. “Kakashi, don’t stop, fuck, I…”

“Yeah?” he grinned, digging his hands into your hips and angling you perfectly to take his every thrust. He pressed his chest into yours and latched his lips to your exposed throat. Covetously, he sucked a hickey into your throat while he kept pounding away, claiming every last bit of you for himself. It was all for him. He would make sure of it, leaving his mark on you with his mouth and hands so that no one could question who you belonged to.

You babbled praises, tongue lolling out of your mouth as your eyes rolled back in your head. “Like that,” you gasped. “Just like that—”

Primal intuition guided his movements. He folded your left leg backward, grunting into your clavicle at the bone-deep gratification that raced along his nerves. You hiked your right leg a little higher on his hips. Desperately, he brought his mouth to yours, kissing you and panting, pulling away just for a glimpse of the cock-drunk look in your eyes before he quickly kissed you again.

He needed to feel you with every part of himself. It wasn’t enough to continuously stuff himself balls-deep inside you. He wanted to taste your lips and feel your body, leaving nothing untouched. He put his right hand over your breast, immediately rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger as he pushed your leg back further and rubbed himself over the sensitive area behind your clit.

You tossed your head back with an indulgent cry, pleading for more. “There… don’t stop!”

“Right there?” Kakashi felt your walls flutter around him, and he buried his face in your neck. It was too good; he wasn’t gonna last, and once he came this time, it would be the last of his stamina. But you asked him not to stop, and he wouldn’t. Not until he gave you what you needed. “What else? I’ll do anything you want.”

“W-want you to cum with me.”

Kakashi gasped out a curse, pounding away at your sweet spot. “Tell me where you want it,” he groaned. “I’m close.”

“I-inside. Cum inside. Please.”

Kakashi moaned, feeling the muscles in his pelvis tighten with enthusiasm. “Haa, oh yeah?” He pressed his pelvis down harder, increasing the friction on your clit. “Want me to—ngh—fill you up?”

Instead of answering, you yanked his head back within reach of your mouth and kissed him, moaning into his mouth and clinging to him. Kakashi couldn’t keep his answering smile at bay; he was too lost in his own delirious happiness. If he could have held out forever—stayed just like this—he would have.

But he didn’t have to. These feelings were real. After this, he still had hours, days, years to spend exchanging kisses and breaths and affection with you.

Kakashi grabbed your ass with bruising strength as his orgasm hit. His stomach twisted and his balls contracted, signaling a rush of endorphins that made his toes curl and his thighs shake. You squeaked against his mouth, pulled directly over the edge with the first pulse deep at the base of his dick. 

You broke away from his mouth, but your limbs clutched to him as your own orgasm sent tremors through your body. “K-ka-kashi-i!” The broken sound of his name slipped past your lips over and over in a desperate whisper.

“I’ve gotcha.” Kakashi held you close, riding out his intense high while giving you something to stabilize yourself. “I’m right here. I’ve gotcha.”

The muscles in your cunt repeatedly tightened around his cock to wring out every last drop of cum he still had to offer. The tug beneath his navel tugged beyond the point of pain, but his cock still pulsed; keeping pace with the demands of your cunt until you finally came down. It left him panting, his forehead resting on yours as he stared into your eyes.

No trace of the jutsu remained; leaving just the two of you in a bubble of heady, genuine affection that quieted the last of his fears. When his lungs relaxed, he titled his head to catch your lips in a sweet, devoted kiss. You hugged him to your chest and answered his kiss with the same promise.

He stayed like that, blissed-out and content, until your spent pussy started quivering from overuse. He leaned away to give you space, but he was surprised when you reached out and grabbed his thighs.

“Wait,” you whispered, your bent legs trembling on either side of him. “Slowly.”

Kakashi nodded at you, his eyes sleepy under heavy eyelids. But he was careful as he pulled out, blushing at the sight of the milky fluid dripping from between your legs. You shivered at the empty feeling and finally let your legs fall to the mattress.

Yes, the jutsu had worn off. But you looked so beautifully wrecked, he almost believed he was ready to go again.

He gently cleaned you off with the sheet, resolving to destroy the evidence a little later and leave some money behind for replacement linens. It would have to be good enough; he was too exhausted to worry about a more discreet alternative.

The only thing he cared about was you; making sure you felt comfortable and safe, showing you that he meant every word.

Because he was already sure that he loved you—and when he inevitably told you sooner rather than later, he didn’t want there to be any room for you to doubt him.

Kakashi gently brushed your hair back from your warm face. You smiled up at him, nuzzling against his palm. He didn’t waste a second before leaning back down to sweep soft kisses over your cheek and neck. You giggled, then turned your head to catch his lips with your own, your fingers trailing along his sides and guiding his weight to press down into you.

Carefully, he rolled onto his side, cupping your jaw to make sure he didn’t break the kiss. You let him kiss you to his heart’s content until you eventually broke away, blushing and nuzzling into his neck. 

Kakashi wrapped his arms around you. “You okay?”

“Mhmm, just worn out,” you sighed. “How about you? You alright?”

“Me?” He hugged you closer and kissed the top of your head. “I’ve never been better.”

You hummed warmly, returning his embrace and lightly kissing his collarbone. “I’m gonna be so sore tomorrow,” you guessed. 

“I’ll carry you home if I have to.”

“What about the mission?”

“We learned more than enough about the jutsu for Tsunade to send a new team out here with some equipment to protect them from its effects. They’ll gather samples, and based on the way it worked, she should be able to develop an antidote.”

You snuggled closer into him, giving over to the intense wave of exhaustion left behind. “Oh, that’s good.”

“Get some sleep,” he whispered. “We’ll head back to Konoha when we wake up. And once we get back, I think I owe you a date.”

► masterlist

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-Twenty Five

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: I AM SO FUCKING SORRY IT TOOK ME ALMOST TWO MONTHS TO UPDATE. I love you all for sticking with us through this terrible lull. But I promise(well hope to) not go so long in between updates again. Hopefully, it was well worth the wait.

Also, please let me know if the tags didn't work. Tumblr has been a pain in my ass with them lately and with how many of you wanted to be tagged, I want to make sure I didn't miss any!

FUCK YOU. EAT SHIT. KILL GOD. DETHRONE.

We are Fallenvvitch. Goodnight.

🪽🔮

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @mitchhbitch @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @exitwoundsx @shayzillaaaa @lookwhatitcost @badomensls @princesspeach-00 @burning-outx @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @thisbicc @sammyjoeee @joe9cool @ozwriterchick @teenblues @bngurngheart @malice-ov-mercy @krisslee18 @xxkittenkissesxx @happi-goth @embracethereaper42 @softvgold @cncohshit @heyyoplayer @rain-down-on-me @bloody-delusion-expert @respectfulrebel @reader13000 @koskeepsake @malerieee @cheyyyyr @myownthoughts12 @noahsbong @laurpartyprogram @cloudykoookie @jessiskyee @a1ex-ba1ex @sideeyenoah @emzandthevoid @badomensls @bellaboo967 @waake-mee-up @rxdlstgn @anthemheatwave

READER

I hummed along to the tune that played on the speakers, swaying my hips, as I moved around the room helping Matt set up the equipment. 

“You don’t have to help, Y/N. You should sit and relax,” Matt said while I handed him a specific cord he was looking for to hook up to one of the speakers. 

I shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’ve always been a workhorse so the idea of sitting on my ass while you all are working doesn’t feel right.” 

He smiled. “Have I mentioned that you and Noah are perfect for each other?” 

“Once or twice,” I shrugged with a hint of a smirk. 

There was a faraway look in Matt’s eyes, one I’ve recognized all too well; loneliness. 

“Hey,” I nudged him with an elbow. “Everything alright?”

He let out a long breath before adjusting his hat, keeping his eyes cast down at his laptop, the program he uses for mixing the songs up on the screen.

“Promise not to tell the guys? I don’t need them giving me shit for it,” he said. 

Immediately I nodded and crossed my heart so he continued. “I see what all of you guys  have and sometimes, a part of me wonders if I’ll ever get anything even close to it.” 

I frowned. “Matt, you will! I don’t want to sound cliche, but that person for you is out there. They’ll show up when you stop looking. Neither Noah nor I were looking for a relationship, and look where we are now. It wasn’t an easy or short road by any means but we got here.” 

“It might be too late for me,” he grumbled under his breath before clicking away at his computer. Just as my lips moved to say something, Noah’s voice came through the speakers in the room. 

“Angel, I love you.” 

My cheeks burned as I glanced over at him with a wide smile to which he shrugged. 

“I had to test if the microphones worked,” he said. 

“Right,” I giggled while walking over to the area of the room that was set up for band rehearsals. 

Bad Omens were going on tour in two weeks, the first one since they rebranded themselves with this new era. Everyone was nervous because they wanted to make sure everything went perfectly. Part of me felt sad and guilty that I wasn’t able to go on the first set of shows because Hollow Souls had media planned. 

That may be why I kept trying to help out any way I could with the rehearsals; to show Noah and everyone else that I supported them. 

However, I did plan on meeting Noah for the last three shows, which seemed to ease the sadness on his face. We’d only ever gone a few days without seeing each other since we got together, so now that we were about to go without seeing each other for nearly two weeks, my heart hurt. 

Cheesy, but it was true. 

Noah’s hands immediately found my hips and brought me close to him, my hands resting on his chest.

“What’s wrong with Matt?” He nodded behind me. 

I played with the strings of his Hereditary sweatshirt. We just watched the movie with Jolly and Astrid last night, and my brain was still swirling with the ending. 

“I think he’s starting to feel a little alone. He sees us, Jolly and Astrid, Jesse and Maxine, and starts to feel like he missed his time,” I said under my breath so others wouldn’t hear. 

The corner of Noah’s mouth pulled down on a line as he kept his eyes on Matt. 

“Maybe the tour will help clear his mind,” he said with a sad sigh. 

“Oh, about that,” I pulled the string of his hoodie again to pull his attention to me. “Are you still upset that I'm stealing Lana from you guys?” 

He chuckled before squeezing my hips. “No, angel. Hollow Souls need her more than Bad Omens do. Plus, she found a replacement for her so Bryan doesn’t have to do most of the photography. I think it’s Lana’s cousin.” 

“Good because Malcolm felt like shit. But we don’t have a full-time photographer and want to get these promo shots out as soon as possible. Lana accepted before she knew about your tour-.” 

Noah hushed my ramblings with a gentle kiss to my lips, one that we both smiled into. 

“Y/N, it’s alright,” he muttered against my lips.

Staring up into those almond eyes I loved so much, I eventually nodded and patted his chest. 

“Okay.” 

Linking our fingers together, Noah led me to the other end of the room where Davis was working on filling up the boxes of merch. 

“I want to show you the new look we have planned for our stage outfits,” Noah said. 

My eyes widened, almost forgetting that the guys talked about changing a lot with this new era. He showed me the pants, tank top, button-up shirt, and jacket; all black. But what kept my attention was at the top of the table, Bad Omens symbols calling to me. 

“Ski mask?” I questioned. 

Noah smirked while putting it on, those eyes darkening when I sucked in a breath. 

“What does the mask represent?” I now asked. 

“My vision,” he said while adjusting it. 

“Ah, yes the vision,” I emphasized while rolling my eyes playfully. 

Noah pointed to his head. “It’s all in my brain.” 

“You have a lot going on in there,” I chuckled but kept a careful eye on the mask, assessing it while feeling the burn ignite within. 

“When you don’t occupy over 95% of it,” Noah shrugged but then narrowed his eyes. “Is the mask doing it for you, angel?” 

Davis tossed down one of the shirts he was folding and began walking away, muttering something under his breath. 

“Can���t they wait until I’m out of the room?” 

I licked my lips, doing my best to appear not turned on by the image of Noah in the mask. 

“Maybe. But I still think you’re missing one thing,” I said with a low voice.

Somehow I could tell he raised a brow. “Yeah?” 

Slinking up closer to him, I raked my nails down the exposed skin of his neck while whispering over his lips. 

“Those grillz I found hiding in your bathroom drawer,” I nibbled on his bottom lip before walking past him, purposely putting a little sway in my hips knowing he was watching. 

For the next few hours, I watched them rehearse the new setlist they created for the tour. I stood next to Matt in his makeshift sound desk, every so often watching what he was doing, and when they started to rehearse The Death of Peace of Mind, I couldn’t help but smirk when I thought back to the memory of hearing the song for the first time. 

Noah must have been as well because as he moved in place with the microphone held tight in his grasp, his eyes met mine before winking. 

“I miss the way you say my name. The way you bend, the way you break. Your makeup running down your face. The way you fuck, the way you taste,” his angelic voice sang. 

“Woo!” I yelled while holding up a finger. 

Suddenly a warm hue crept over my face when I realized I had said that out loud and slunk farther down in the chair next to Matt. 

“Woo?” He asked with a teasing grin. 

“I don’t know,” I shrugged while playing with a piece of lint on my sweatpants. “It just works. Every time I listen to the song, I always add the woo.” 

Noah, whose own smirk was wide and prideful, leaned against the mic stand; they had stopped playing with my embarrassing outburst. 

“I like it, it’s cute,” he admitted. 

“Maybe you should do it on tour,” Folio suggested to Noah with a wiggle of his brows. 

Groaning, I gathered up my things before walking up to Noah and kissing him. 

“I have to go. I have my appointment with Dr. Poulos. I’ll call you after.” 

“Don’t forget about this weekend, angel,” Noah pointed a finger. 

I nodded with a pout. “Right, our super secret date that I don’t get any hints for.” 

When Noah bid me goodbye with a gentle pat on my ass, Jolly’s voice stopped me before I could leave. 

“Hey, Y/N?” 

“Hm?” I adjusted the strap of my bag. 

He scratched at the large bun of hair on top of his head. “Is your therapist seeing new patients?” 

“Are you interested in therapy?” I asked with a raised brow.

“No,” Jolly shook his head with a sigh. “For Astrid. The last couple of weeks, she’s not been herself. I think with the upcoming anniversary of her father's death, she’s taking it hard but won’t talk to me about it.”

My heart sank for one of my best friends. We just hung out last night and I hadn’t noticed anything was wrong with her. 

“Shit, I had no idea.” 

Jolly set down his guitar. “She hides it very well. I only know bits and pieces about what happened to her father but I think she had someone else to talk about it with, it would help her.” 

“Definitely,” I nodded. “I’ll grab a card from Dr. Poulos and put in a good word.” 

Jolly placed a kiss on the side of my head. “Thank you.”

NOAH

The songs of birds danced around us as I held tightly on Y/N’s hands, the waves crashing at the pier below us and she clutched something tightly in her chest. 

“You didn’t have to buy this for me, you know?”

Even though she tried to chastise me for spending my money on her, I knew from the smile on her face that she was happy to have a new wolf stuffed animal; one that mirrored the one I gave her back on our tour together. 

The one Trey threw out of the window of their tour bus. 

We spent our entire afternoon at the California Wolf Center, seeing different packs of wolves up close and learning about them. The smile that Y/N had on her face as she bent low in front of the fence to say hello to one of the wolves a few feet away from her made my heart flutter wildly in my chest. 

If I didn’t already know that I loved her, I’d probably tell her for the first time at that moment. 

After a long drive back into the city, we decided to walk onto the pier for some ice cream. 

“I want to take care of you, angel,” I squeezed her hand as I led her towards a bench on the white sand. 

We both sat and watched the waves for a few minutes while Y/N read her book. I had my arm wrapped around her, smelling the hint of vanilla in her hair and the floral scent of her perfume as it clung to her skin, and glanced over to the bench across from us. It was an older couple, the man reading a book to his wife, and I cocked my head to the left, something about them oddly familiar. 

“Angel,” I rubbed her shoulder. 

She hummed, not taking her eyes off the book she was reading. I glanced at the title when she pulled it out of her bag. 

The Dare by Harley Laroux. 

When I asked what it was about, Y/N’s face turned crimson before waving me off and muttered something about how I wouldn’t like it. But when I read a few sentences over her shoulder, I could see why she blushed. 

Something about the girl being bent over the guy’s lap in a movie room and getting spanked repeatedly. 

“Y/N,” I said her name this time, pulling her attention away from the book and up to me. “Haven’t we seen them before?” 

She followed my gaze over to the older couple and pursed her lips, trying to think if we had. 

“We have! In South Carolina. You joined me at that cafe when I went to order all of us coffee that day on tour. They were walking ahead of us.”

Suddenly the light clicked on and I nodded when that day crept into my mind. I’d been so nervous to be alone with Y/N at the time but being so close to her in line and having her scent engulf me for the first time told me that she would sink herself deep inside of me. 

“What are the odds,” I muttered with a smile. 

“He’s reading a book to her,” Y/N mused. 

I dragged my fingers up and down her arm while gazing down at her. “Do you think he’s reading her a dirty book like the one you’re reading?” 

She smacked my chest causing an uproar of laughter from me.

“Are you going to get me some ice cream or what?” She raised a brow with a playful smile. 

I brushed a kiss along her forehead. “What kind?” 

Y/N tapped her chin in mock thought. “I’ll take a fudgsicle, please.”                                                                                                         

With a sweet kiss on her lips, I let her by herself with the wolf stuffed animal and book and walked over to the concession stand, noticing a long line already. 

It was a cool autumn day and everyone wanted to spend the last few hours of daylight outside. I, however, needed to waste another hour until we were able to head back to my house. As the line moved up slowly, I glanced down at my phone to read the last text conversation in the group chat with my roommates. 

Michael: Where are we supposed to stay tonight? 

Jesse: I’m staying at Maxine’s and Jolly’s staying with Astrid. 

Michael: Oh way to rub it in. I guess I’ll bunk with Malcolm and Chase. 

Me: Salem misses you 😂

Michael: I swear, if that cat bites my feet again in the middle of the night, I’m going to drop him off with you guys. 

Jolly: Everything is set up, Noah. We’ll be out of the house in an hour. 

Jesse: I don’t want to know what you have planned tonight but all I ask is please don’t touch my strawberries. They’re from Matt’s garden. 

I laughed while stuffing my phone back into the pocket of my gray sweatshirt and moved forward in line. My hood was up and pulled low over the brim of my hat, making it hard for anyone to recognize me. We’d been fortunate enough all day not to be bothered by fans but now seeing how busy the pier was, I wanted to be extra careful. Y/N and I had yet to make our relationship public and we were hoping to keep it as quiet as long as we could since we were becoming very private people. 

As the line shifted again, I noticed the older gentleman was now standing in front of me. With a quick glance back over to the seating on the beach, I saw Y/N still reading her book then realized the older woman was by herself, only to realize that her husband was standing in front of me, muttering something about the prices under his breath. 

 “That will be $5.95,” the younger woman smiled. 

“My lord, how times have changed. What do we expect in this economy?” He said.

I stifled a laugh behind my hand as I rubbed at my jaw. “You’re not kidding.” 

The older man patted the pockets of his tan jacket and then his pants. “I seem to have forgotten my wallet. Here, let this young man go ahead, I think my wife has my wallet.”

While reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out my wallet and waved to the worker behind the booth. 

“I’ll get it. Can you add a fudgesicle and vanilla cone, please?” I asked with a smile. 

As the worker went to work about getting my ice cream, the older man turned to look up at me; literally. 

“Oh, my. You’re a tall fella, you must have eaten your vegetables when you were a kid,” the man adjusted his glasses. 

“I’m a fan of tomatoes,” I shrugged with a laugh. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he nodded towards the concessions where the worker handed him his two vanilla cones. 

“It’s not a problem,” I smiled at the worker after dropping a twenty on the counter, telling her to keep the change.

“You’ve got a name, son?” The older man asked as we both began walking back towards the beach. 

“Noah,” I answered after a lick of my ice cream. 

The burst of vanilla bean pleasured my taste buds and exploded in my mouth. It reminded me of something I’d like to try later.

“Well, I’ll be,” he chuckled. “That’s my name although I had it a lot longer than you, but-.” 

He waved me off but then pointed to the exposed tattoos on my fingers. “So what do you do, Noah? You have those tattoos all over and a cool haircut. Let me guess. The arts?”

I nodded with a grin. “Yes, sir. You hit the nail right on the head! How about you?”

“Ah, what can I say? I know a thing or two about predicting things. And I’ve worked quite a few different jobs in my lifetime. Restored an old house and made an art studio for my sweetheart, even got myself in the paper. But now, the two of us are here on vacation.”

We came to a stop right where the sand and concrete met and Noah smiled while pointing over to the bench I first noticed them. 

“That’s my Allie over there. Do you have a sweetheart, young Noah?” 

“I do,” I grinned. “She’s sitting right over there, the one with the book and wolf stuffed animal.” 

Old Noah’s tired eyes drifted over to where Y/N was sitting, the wind blowing through her hair, and the sight of her looking so at peace made my heart swell. 

“You know,” I shifted on my feet. “We’ve actually seen you and your wife before. It was a few years ago at a coffee shop in South Carolina. It’s a little place called Palmieri.” 

Old Noah’s eyes widened. “Well, I’ll be. What a small world. There’s no way I’d remember a name like that.” 

I licked at the chocolate ice cream that ran down my hand from Y/N’s fudgesicle and shrugged. “It’s a place that means a lot to me.” 

“How funny is that?” Old Noah’s chuckle shook his whole small frame before giving me a wink. “If I learned anything over my lifetime, Noah. It’s that fate will always prevail.”

I couldn’t help but make a face at that, only because I was becoming such a private person so it shocked me that this older man could understand parts of my life without giving much away. All of the odds and chances were starting to feel very Twilight Zone. It made me feel vulnerable and shocked that things from the universe were real. Everyone had been saying it ever since I walked off the bus on the first day of the tour and shook her hand for the first time. 

Y/N was my soulmate and I was hers.

Old Noah must have caught the look on my face and patted my shoulder. “Don’t go too far in your head, son. It could be hard to get out of.”

“Yeah,” I muttered under my breath. 

“Well, all I’ll say is hold your sweetheart close, Noah. A woman like that is hard to come by. I promise, if the two of you treat each other right, you will live the best life together.” 

I nodded with a smile. “Thank you, sir.” 

Old Noah took a few slow steps before glancing back toward me. “Thank you for being so kind, Noah. You don’t see that much anymore. Have a great rest of your day.” 

“You too.” 

I made sure to watch as he made it back to his wife, slowly sitting down next to her and handing her the ice cream cone. There was something in the way she smiled at him; almost as if she was trying to remember something. 

Then, I glanced over to Y/N, who still had her face buried in her book with a deep crimson hue covering her cheeks to the tips of her ears. Whatever she was reading in that book had her flustered in ways that made her pull at the collar of her shirt and shift in her spot on the bench. My eyes cast downward to her wrist, the metal chain catching the setting sun and I peeked down at my own. A sudden flash of a hospital bed appeared in my mind but was gone just as quickly. 

Shaking it off, I reached Y/N and handed her the fudgesicle. 

“Thank you, mochi,” she beamed at me after setting her book down. 

We ate in silence for a few moments until I noticed a strand of hair falling into her face, nearly into the ice cream, so I brushed it away and tucked it behind her ear. 

“Your hair. It was going to get sticky.” 

She left a kiss on my cheek, the butterflies in my stomach having a whirlwind of a time. 

“You’re always taking care of me, Noah. Are you going to get ice cream out of my hair even when we’re old and gray?” Y/N asked. 

I pressed a cold kiss to her forehead. “That’s the plan.” 

Old and gray. 

“How do you think I’d look old and gray?” I wondered after finishing off my ice cream cone. 

“Oh, handsome as ever and wearing a black cardigan. I bet you’ll still have the Levi cut,” she mockingly teased, resting her head on my shoulder. 

The sounds of the waves crashing ashore and laughter from the families and variety of couples brought a weird sense of calm to my ever-racing mind and heart. I did my best to heed Old Noah’s advice to not get so far in my own mind and right now, with Y/N by my side, it made it easier. The last couple of years hadn’t been easy for either of us, especially the times we almost lost each other due to our own fucked up style of communicating. But because of therapy, we were learning and growing. 

When I watched a couple, no younger than us, splash each other in the water, I was reminded of a time, long ago, when Y/N and I did the same. 

"If you were a bird, what bird would you be?" She asked when she came to a stop in front of me. 

"Well," I ran a hand over my chin to show I was thinking deeply about this question. "According to the fanbase, they see me as a duck so I guess that."

"I love that! Oh, you know what would be funny?" She grinned. 

I shrugged. "No, but I have a feeling you'll tell me." 

"When you scream to Dethrone, you should be funny by saying this is dethrone you quacks, instead of fucks. It'd be a way of showing the fans you read everything online," she deadpanned before falling into a fit of giggles and looking up to the darkening skies above her. 

Seeing how much that small joke made her laugh made me make a mental note to say that next tour. 

"What about you? What bird would you be?" 

"A crow," she answered so fast, almost as if she thought about this question in depth before. "They’re mysterious, they’re misunderstood and always take care of the ones they love.”

I hummed with her answer. "I can see that. You'd make a lovely crow." 

She bumped her shoulder with me as the waves crashed harder around us. "You'd make a pretty cool duck. And we'd be bird friends." 

"Well," I glided my hands through the water. "If you're a bird, then I'm a bird."

“Angel,” I asked, pulling her attention away from her book. 

“Hm?” 

“If we were birds, would we be bird lovers? Because last time, we were bird friends,” I said. 

The corners of Y/N's lips curled up in a smile as if the memory was replaying in her mind like a movie. 

“We’d be the best bird lovers,” she breathed with a kiss on my lips. 

Wrapping my arm around her, we let the silence fall between us again, truly enjoying this moment together. Ever since we both released new albums, our work schedule had been packed with constant media or preparing for the upcoming tour. This was a rare weekend where we all had off so neither of us was in a rush to leave. 

Well, until I got a text from Jolly letting me know that the house was empty. 

“I think there’s a fireworks show tonight at the pier,” Y/N said while looking at her phone. 

Fireworks at the pier. 

“Noah! Stop!” Y/N giggled while wrapping her arms around my neck.

“What?” I stopped spinning. “Let you go?”

She shrieked as I nearly dropped her. “No, you idiot! Don’t let me go!”

As if I had just been slapped in the face, I sat up straighter when everything clicked into the constantly moving puzzle pieces inside my mind. 

“It’ll all connect, everything!” I muttered while chewing on my bottom lip. 

“Conjuring magic there?” 

Y/N’s giggles snapped my head towards hers as I did myself to calm my thoughts so she could understand. 

“Remember at breakfast when Jolly and I were telling you our future plans for Bad Omens?” 

She nodded, a pretty confused look on her face. “Yes?” 

“The comics, the music videos, all of it. It’ll connect,” I rambled on my idea when she still looked at me confused. 

“So, the covers would be what ifs?” Y/N asked after a moment.

I snapped my finger with an eager nod. “Yes, exactly!” 

There was still hesitation on her face as she turned to face me head-on, fingers meddling with the chain around her wrist. 

“Just Pretend? Don’t you think it kind of gives away the elusiveness of everything? Of us?” Y/N wondered. 

“Not at all, angel. Let me explain,” I linked our fingers together and then went about spending the next couple of minutes explaining my grand idea. 

READER

Oh. My. Gods. 

I came to a halt in the middle of Noah’s living room, all of my breath stolen by the bright and colorful sight in front of me. On every living room and kitchen surface were bouquets; of different sizes, colors, and kinds. On the mantle of the fireplace was a large purple bouquet of Violets. On the end table next to the couch was one of blue orchids. Spread out along the kitchen island were three large vases of pale pink peonies. Besides the flowers, candles were lit and spread out throughout the open space. 

Words felt foreign on my lips as I looked at all the other array of flowers, feeling the tears well up in the corners of my eyes and my throat burned when I tried not to let out a sob. 

“Noah,” I choked while turning to look at him. “What is all of this?” 

He was leaning against the front door with an apprehensive look on his face. Immediately, I could tell he was nervous with how tense his shoulders were. 

“We never spent Valentine’s Day together,” Noah stood up straighter and cleared his throat when it cracked. 

“But it’s March,” you giggled. 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know. But I wanted to give this to you. I’m trying to make up for our lost time together.” 

I walked over to the bouquets of Violets on the mantel and breathed in the sweet scent. “Do each of these have a significance?” 

This seemed to break Noah out of his nervous stupor because he took off his hood, shaking his hair before coming over to me. 

“I’m glad you asked, angel,” he smiled. “The orchids and peonies represent love and admiration in Asia. The violets, also known as the Sumire, represent life and sincerity. Its small size and delicate nature represent deep affection for someone. These flowers are very important in Japan.” 

You hummed while plucking one out of the face and twirling it between your fingers. 

“Can you guess which ones are my favorite?” 

When Noah shook his head, I plucked another one from the vase this time tucking it behind his ear. 

“The violets because my affection for you runs deep. But I think you already knew that,” you pecked his lips. 

Noah gave me a bashful smile while casting his eyes down at our feet, a crimson hue coloring his face. So I cupped his cheek, forcing him to look at me, and I could feel the nervousness almost burn my palm. 

“Mochi,” you breathed. “You’re more nervous now than when you showed me my art studio.”

He rubbed at his cheek before motioning to the flowers around us. “I’ve never done this before. Dates and being romantic. I guess I want everything to be perfect. You deserve it.” 

I brought the flower that was held between my fingers up to his nose, brushing it over the freckles there which in turn, made Noah scrunch up his nose with a quiet chuckle.

The sight of him like this, bashful and giggling, made me weak in the knees so I kept myself up by grasping at the pocket of his sweatshirt. 

“Noah, it’s just me. You don’t have to do all of this or be nervous. You know I’d be perfectly fine with a simple rose stem.” 

“It’s not just you, angel. It’s all of you, everything I do now is for you. I want to make you happy,” he said while locking his hands behind my neck. 

“You do make me happy, mochi,” you professed while playing with the flower behind his ear. 

“I know,” he nodded assuringly. “But I-I didn’t have a chance to express how much I love you and want to take care of you. You mean so much to me and whatever I can do to prove that to you, I will.” 

His smile was slanted slightly and his cheeks were still flushed as he twirled a piece of hair around his lock fingers before locking them behind my neck again; keeping me in place. 

Not that I minded. I had no reason to leave. 

“I know. I love you for it,” I kissed those lips that always tasted light and sweet, like honey. All I could taste now was how unbitter it all was. 

There was no goodbye. 

All him, all sweet. 

“You’re adorable like this, mochi. Bashful every time we kiss.” 

He playfully rolled his eyes before capturing my lips again. “Laugh it up you little brat. I need your lips like I need oxygen.” 

Little brat. 

Those two words made an inferno burn deep within my core and I let out a soft moan. Titling up my chin with slight defiance at him, I gave him a teasing wink. 

“Why don’t I show you how much of a little brat I can be?” 

My breath fanned over his lips, a tease to his words, then when something dark flashed across his eyes I knew that I had less than three seconds to create some distance between us. My laughter echoed through the space of Noah’s house as his loud footsteps chased after me. I ran from his living room, through the kitchen, and into his bedroom with his tall presence hot on my ass. 

I wanted him on me in more ways than one. 

Once inside his bedroom, I stayed on one side of the bed while Noah stood on the other, both of our chests rising and falling trying to catch our breath. His hair had become disheveled in our chase and it was falling into his face, him not making a move to brush it back. Those dark eyes stared me down through the even darker tendrils and my stomach flipped when Noah cocked his head to the side. 

“I’m waiting,” he held out his hands to the side. 

I raised a brow. “For what?” 

“For you to show me how bratty you can be,” the speed at which his tongue snapped out to wet his lips was astonishing. 

A devious smirk pulled at the corner of my mouth before I made quick work of stripping out of my clothes, letting them pool at my feet. I stood in front of Noah in nothing but a pair of crimson panties. 

“Angel,” Noah’s voice rumbled deep in his chest. 

“What?” I shrugged, innocently. 

These were his favorite pair of panties. He always raved at how they stood out against my skin tone. 

“I can smell you from here,” his nostrils flared. 

“You cannot,” I scoffed while placing my hands on my hips, purposely cocking my left hip out. 

Noah didn’t say anything, instead, he hooked a finger and beckoned me over to him. I shook my head with a wicked gleam in my eyes. 

“I’m actually kind of tired,” I stretched my arms wide, faking a yawn. “I’m going to take a shower.” 

As I stepped around the bed, Noah’s quick reflexes met me halfway causing me to scream and I jumped up on the bed to get away from him. I made it two steps on top of his bed until his strong arms wrapped around me from behind, tackling me to the bed. 

“Angel,” Noah grunted while thrusting his hips into mine. “You’re such a tease.” 

I bit back a moan. “I’m not doing anything.” 

“Really?” His long finger grazed over the lacey material of my panties, teasing my clit. 

This time I was unable to hold back the moan especially when his finger slipped underneath my panties to now gather my arousal to my clit. Noah’s teeth grazed over my collarbone, tasting me and humming in approval. 

Until some noise from his computer went off and made him groan before climbing off the bed. 

“What is that?” I asked while resting up on my elbows. 

Noah clicked on his mouse a few times. “Orie wants me to get in a game with him.” 

Suddenly, a thought came to mind and I tip-toed over to Noah, wrapping my arms around his chest from behind. 

“Play a game with him,” I breathed against the shell of his ear. 

He turned his head to glance at me over his shoulder, holding my hands against his chest. “Y/N, I can tell him no. It’s fine.” 

I shook my head with a wink. “Play a game with him, Noah. Make sure the camera is off and strip down.”

His cheeks turned a deep shade of red, almost mirroring the color of my panties before I urged him to follow my orders with a swift pat on his ass. While he accepted the game invite from Orie, Noah stripped out of his clothes and sat in his computer chair. 

“Don’t forget the headset and these,” I said while rummaging around the box underneath his bed before tossing one of the objects over at him. 

I had a box of almost the same things underneath my own bed back at home.

Noah caught what I threw him mid-air, the golden lenses catching the light from the LED lights in the room.

“I haven’t worn glasses in months, Y/N. Why would I need them now?” He questioned with a slight slant on his lips while twirling the gold round glasses between his fingers. 

Rolling my eyes, I stuffed the box back underneath his bed. 

“Wait,” he pointed a finger. “How long has that been under there? And why were my old glasses in there?” 

“Noah, please,” I semi-wined while running a hand through my hair. “Can you just-?” 

With a wave of a hand to the glasses, he eventually understood why I wanted him to put them on. 

“A little role play?” He teased while putting them on. 

I sucked in a breath at the vision of him in front of me. I’d seen streams and pictures of him wearing these glasses with his long hair and I thought he was breathtaking in them. 

Now with his short Levi haircut and all of his tattoos on full display for me, Noah somehow managed to be even more gorgeous. 

With the headset on, he fell onto the computer chair and spoke into the microphone. “Hey, Orie. Yeah, I got a little bit to play a round.” 

Once I slipped out of my panties and tossed them on Noah’s pillow, I held the black rose sex toy in one hand and when I reached the corner of the bedroom where Noah had his computer set up, I froze in place. His cock was thick, almost standing straight up with how he was sitting and I bit my lip when I watched precum ooze out of the slit. 

I noticed he was already in some game with Orie, his fingers working fast on the keys and mouse, so I pressed a finger to my lips. 

“Be quiet now, Noah. We don’t need to let Orie know what we’re doing,” I whispered while straddling him on his chair so he was able to see the computer monitor. 

“Y/N,” Noah warned. 

Ignoring him, I ripped open the condom and slowly rolled it over his cock which made him let out a low noise from his chest. 

“Shh,” I hushed while clamping a hand over his mouth. “Not so loud.” 

My stomach burned with arousal, igniting a part of me I never knew existed. My sex life had improved with Noah and I was able to find out new kinks. What we were about to do, sex with someone possibly hearing was new. I knew that Noah wouldn’t let Orie hear anything but even the thought of him hearing something turned me on. 

“Is that Y/N?” Orie’s voice sounded from Noah’s headset. 

I winked as Noah’s eyes darted from the computer monitor to me. “She’s yelling at Salem. We have him here tonight and I guess he’s being too loud or something.” 

“Wow,” I mouthed, proud of how well he came up with that lie. 

With his hands preoccupied, I adjusted myself over his cock and locked eyes with him as I sunk deep on to him. My groan caught in my throat at the fullness of Noah’s cock in my pussy. It felt fresh and new every time. 

I cringed a little from the pain due to my endometriosis but as soon as I started moving up and down, the pain began to subside. Noah’s bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he tried his best to keep his attention on his computer while I rode him, slow at first. 

“Angel,” he let out quietly through gritted teeth. 

Ignoring him, I flipped on the black rose, the vibrations sounding loud in the quiet room and when I touched my clit with it I wasn’t able to keep that moan quiet. 

“Fuck,” I dragged out while leaning my head back. 

“What’s that?” Orie’s voice asked through Noah’s headset again. 

“It's so good,” my body writhed against Noah’s. 

He quickly said goodbye to Orie before exiting the game and ripping off the headset. My squeals bounced off the walls when one of Noah’s hands snaked around my throat, using his thumb to hold my chin straight. 

“Such a fucking brat,” he hissed when I rolled my hips over his cock. “What if he heard you? No one is allowed to hear those pretty little moans. Just me.” 

I whined when he pulled the rose away from my clit, immediately missing the friction. 

“I didn’t-,” I was unable to finish my words because Noah wrapped his other arm around my back to pull me closer to his chest, the head of his cock hitting that spot. 

He bit down on my breast, right above my nipple, and I cried out in pleasure. 

“I should punish you,” he rasped, voice gone with lust, and began pulling his cock out. 

“No, no. I’m sorry,” I shook my head and desperately tried to stop him. 

Noah raised a brow while tightening his grip around my throat and pushed his cock in deeper. “You’re sorry?”

I did my best to nod in his grasp. “Y-yes. Please, I need you to move again.” 

He hummed and buried his face in the crook of my neck, breathing me in. His pace didn’t increase, instead, it was even slower than before. It was as if he wasn’t even moving and I let out a groan of frustration. 

“Do you know how long I wanted to fuck you in this chair, Y/N?” 

Noah flicked his tongue over my nipple. “I’ve sat in this chair and thought of you so many times. My hand wrapped around my cock and pictures of you up on my screen.” 

My stomach flipped at his words, the image he painted beautifully on the canvas of my mind. 

“Were you wearing these glasses?” I motioned to them with a raise of my brows. 

“This doing it for you, angel? My glasses?” He chuckled before moving over to the other nipple, mimicking the same actions as before with his tongue. 

Every one of my senses was burned alive. It was like this every time Noah and I were connected; our souls becoming one. 

My nails scraped along his scalp as I pulled on his hair, yanking his head back so he could gaze up at me, our pace always in sync. 

“You could wear a mask and it would still do it for me,” I moaned while rolling my hips against him. 

“I can make that happen,” he promised before crashing his lips to mine in a hungry kiss. 

It was one of pure adrenaline, his tongue fighting mine for dominance and his teeth sunk deep into my bottom lip. I shook in his embrace when I felt the vibrations of the black rose against my clit again. 

“No-Noah,” I cried in ecstasy when the familiar heat spread to my core. 

“Good girl,” he praised in between devouring my mouth. “Say my name again.” 

“Noah,” I sang when my orgasm was on the crest, begging me to let go. 

His cock was fucking into me with absolutley no remorse. The chair beneath us was creaking and I was sure we’d break it at any given moment. My breasts were pressed tightly against his chest and the sharp metal of his chain digging into my skin added more blissful pain. My body was pulled tight with tension, knowing any moment I would snap. 

“You know what to do, angel,” Noah spoke huskily as his cock twitched inside of me when he smacked my ass. “Don’t make me fucking ask.” 

Locking eyes with him, I cried out my orgasm as my body writhed in his tight grasp, and Noah created some space between us to glance down where our bodies connected. It was wet, more than usual, and his eyes snapped away from the soaked condom and lap. 

“Angel,” his voice was deep, dropping an octave. “Did you just squirt?” 

I couldn’t speak; my orgasm took every single ounce of energy out of me. Instead, I nodded while resting my forehead against his chest and smacked away the vibrator that was still held against my clit. The aftershocks were too much and I was afraid of crumbling in his embrace. 

“So,” Noah grunted with a thrust. 

“Fucking.” 

Thrust. 

“Hot.” He growled out his release, spilling into the condom, and held me tighter against him. 

Gentle fingers grazed up and down my spine, as we both came down from our highs and I hummed in delight when Noah’s lips pressed a kiss to my forehead. 

“I don’t think I could ever sit in this chair again without thinking of you,” he mused with a light chuckle. 

Sitting up straighter, I tapped his cheek. He was still wearing those glasses and it made my pussy clench over his slightly limp cock. 

“I wonder what else we can fuck on in your house to make you think of me,” I joked before climbing off of him. 

Noah’s fingers gripped tighter into the flesh of my hips to keep me in place and he winked. “Let’s find out.” 

The next morning, I woke to gentle kisses down my spine and I smiled in my sleep haze. 

“Mm, good morning,” I grumbled into the pillow as I tucked it deep under my chin. 

“How’d you sleep?”

Noah’s gruff and sleep-filled voice made my stomach twinge but then I internally groaned when the pain from last night started to creep back into my bones. 

“I’m still sore after last night,” I sighed while turning over in bed to face him. He was freshly showered, with water droplets clinging to his hair, and wore clean clothes. 

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He asked while brushing away the mess of hair from my face. 

I shook my head with a lazy smile. “Not at all. I wanted all of that.” 

To reassure Noah, I kissed his lips tenderly; my essence still lingered. 

“Hungry?” He asked after pulling away. 

“Starved! Someone kept me up all night,” I exaggerated while sitting up in bed, clutching the sheet to my naked body. “I’m going to shower quickly.” 

 Ten minutes later, I stepped into the kitchen just in time to see Noah. I could see the blood rushing to his soft and full cheeks, as he continued talking with the guys who had gotten home. The mortification of knowledge was evident.

Jolly, Michael, and Jesse. 

“What’s going on?” I asked while stuffing my hands in my hoodie pocket. 

Taking a closer look at Jolly, a bright red material that was hanging loosely on his shoulder caught my attention and I stifled my gasp behind my hand. 

“Why was your swimsuit top hanging from the ceiling fan?” He questioned. 

My eyes darted to Noah. “I thought you said you cleaned up!” 

“I might have missed a few things,” he held up his hands in defense. 

I ran inside, giggles bouncing off the walls, as Noah chased me and nearly slipped on the kitchen floor due to his wet feet. 

“We can’t fuck in the Jacuzzi, Noah! The guys use it too,” I stood on the other side of the large kitchen island with my hands on my hips. 

Noah wore a wicked smirk. “They won’t know, angel.” 

I untied my swimsuit top and threw it up in the air, catching it on the ceiling fan in the kitchen. 

“If you catch me, you can fuck me where ever you want.” 

Michael came down the stairs with a troubled look in his eyes. “Why is there a folder on the computer in the studio labeled Y/N private?” 

“Oi vey,” I pinched my eyes shut while Noah rubbed my back. 

“You didn’t open it did you?” He asked. 

“No,” Michael shook his head but then his shoulders dropped. “Do I even want to know?”

“Louder! Say it louder, angel!” 

Noah grunted as he thrusted his cock into my pussy with such force, I screamed into the microphone. 

“Noah! Don’t stop. Please!” 

“Who do you belong to?” He demanded to know, sinking his teeth deep into my shoulder. 

“YOU!” I cried out with my orgasm. 

Jolly sighed while falling onto the couch and rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. 

“Everything alright?” I questioned while sitting next to him. 

He gave a half shrug. “Last night was rough for Astrid. She kept waking up with nightmares.” 

My heart dropped, knowing that her father's death was bothering her more than she would admit to anyone; even Jolly. 

“Has she talked with Dr. Poulos?” 

“No,” he ran his hands over his long thighs. “She told me she’ll reach out when she’s ready.” 

I patted his shoulder. “I’ll stop by Fika today and chat with her. I’m sure she’d like that.” 

Jolly smiled. “Thanks, Y/N.” 

The sound of rummaging around the fridge and a loud gasp made me turn my attention towards Jesse, who was holding up an empty crate. 

“My strawberries!” He exasperated while running a hand through his curls. “These were from Matt’s garden. Did you guys have to eat all of them?” 

Noah and I shared a look. “Sorry, man. They were delicious.” 

“Noah,” I breathed while pulling on my bindings. 

The cool granite beneath my warm skin brought shills to my body. I was laid spread out wide for him on the kitchen counter, blindfolded, and hands tied up above my head. 

I couldn’t see him but felt when he bit into the fruit, its juices spilling over my clit, then his warm tongue was there to clean it up. 

“Fucking divine,” Noah groaned. 

Jesse tossed the empty container in the trash before grumbling something under his breath while sitting on the couch opposite Jolly and I. Noah was finishing breakfast. When Jolly shifted in his spot next to me, my heart leaped in my throat when I saw what he had in his hand. 

“The mask, huh?” He smirked. “Didn’t think you’d be into the yellow one.” 

“NOAH SEBASTIAN!” I bellowed. “Did you just stuff the mask in the cushion hoping no one would find it?” 

He didn’t respond, simply humming along to the tune in his head. 

Michael began cleaning up the scattered mess on the coffee table when something fell out of the small black bag in his hand. 

A set of shiny grillz. 

“So good,” I murmured while running my hands through Noah’s hair as I lay on the coffee table. 

His dark almond eyes looked up at me as he continued the onslaught on my pussy with his tongue. The richness of his eyes stood out against the stark contrast of the yellow mask he wore. When he grazed his teeth over my clit, I hissed in slight pain. 

“Shit, mochi!” 

“Sorry, angel,” he whipped at his mouth, the shiny grillz on his teeth catching the light overhead. 

The slight pain turned to arousal at the sight of him and I pushed his head back towards my clit. “Don’t fucking stop.”

“Are those,” Jolly leaned closer to Michael. “Are those your show grillz?” 

“Fuck, they still look wet!” Michael dropped them to the table. 

I groaned while sinking further into the couch, hiding my face behind my hands. 

“Alright,” Noah sighed while setting down the spatula and I noticed his ears were beet red. “You guys are embarrassing Y/N! So I missed a few things, sue me.” 

“I’d like to,” Jesse grumbled while crossing his arms. “Ate all my strawberries.” 

“It’s alright,” I reassured them with a smile. “I’m sorry about the mess.” 

Micahel stomped up the stairs. “I need to take a shower to scrub out the images of you and Y/N fucking all over the house.” 

Standing up from the couch, I walked over to Noah and laid a soft kiss on his warm cheeks. “I think after breakfast we should head to the farmers market. Buy Jesse some replacement strawberries.” 

“Might as well invite Matt,” Noah suggested. 

I shook my phone in my hand. “Already on it.” 

As I helped Noah set up the table with the breakfast spread he cooked, neither of us heard the conversation between Jolly and Jesse; who were watching us with a smile. 

“You do know that when she moves in, it’s going to be like this all the time right?” Jesse chuckled. 

“Yeah, but look how happy Noah is. He deserves this,” Jolly said. 

NOAH

I bounced on the soles of my feet with excitement as I waited in the lobby, hoping to find that familiar face in the crowd of people. Y/N was joining me on the road for the last week of the tour and after being away from her for two weeks, my soul was yearning to feel complete again. This was the longest we’d gone without seeing each other and all of our Facetime calls paled in comparison to actually seeing her beautiful face. 

Throughout the crowd, a spot of aquamarine hair rushed past, only to stop when she recognized it was me. 

“Hey, Bryan said you were handing out the key cards?” The woman adjusted the camera bag over her shoulder while gripping her suitcase with her free hand. 

Our photographer fill-in for Lana. 

She tried to give me a small smile but knowing what she’d gone through the last two weeks, outside of work, I couldn’t help but feel a small pang of guilt for what I was about to do. It’d been a plan of mine and the guy's since the other day, hoping it would fix the issue that had been plaguing her. 

“Yeah,” I pulled out a familiar keycard, one I had just handed to Matt moments ago, and gave it to her. “We’re thinking of dinner and karaoke tonight if you’re interested.” 

She tucked a strand of blue hair behind her ear. “Y/N’s coming, right?” 

I couldn’t stop the goofy smile that spread to my lips. “Yeah, she should be here any minute.” 

“Cool, count me in. No offense but I’m sick of all the testosterone,” she giggled before giving me a wave and heading over to the elevators. 

“If this plan doesn’t work, I’m going to lock them up in a closet to resolve whatever they have going on,” I muttered under my breath. 

“Talking to yourself, mochi?” 

Swirling on my heels, I gazed down at Y/N who was smiling and wearing the communal gray Chief sweater. 

“Hi, angel,” I quickly wrapped my arms around her and breathed in her familiar scent. 

Y/N buried her face in my chest and her hands dug at the back of my shirt. “I’ve missed you.” 

Tilting her chin up, I left a deep kiss on her lips, not caring if anyone around us saw. 

“I missed you too,” I brushed my nose along hers, and with my arm wrapped around her, I began leading her toward the elevators. 

“You dyed your hair?” I asked as we stopped in front of the closed doors. 

She wrapped her arms around my midsection and squeezed. “My roots were coming in and I needed it to look fresh for the photos. But speaking of hair colors. The girl you were talking to, was that-?” 

I nodded with a sigh. “Yep. They’re still not talking though.” 

As we stepped onto the elevator and the doors closed behind us, I held onto Y/N’s suitcase as she looked up at me, still wrapped in my free arm. 

“Did you do what I suggested?” Y/N asked. 

“Yep, they’re sharing a room right now. So if we hear yelling they’re most likely working things out,” I said while stepping off the elevator and heading towards the hotel room. 

“YOU’RE INSUFFERABLE!” 

“REALLY? LAST TIME I CHECKED, YOU LOVED IT WHEN MY LIPS WERE ON YOURS!” 

Y/N came to a stop in front of our door and pointed to the room next to ours. “I’m guessing that’s Matt’s room?” 

“Yep,” I popped the ‘P’ as the door clicked open. 

Once we were inside, I let Y/N get settled with unpacking her things as I lounged on the bed to watch with a loving gaze. Sometimes I couldn’t believe that after everything we’d gone through to get to this point, Y/N still wanted me. 

I fucked up; a lot.

I made mistakes but those mistakes didn’t make me. 

I fought with myself, with her, with others, to finally get here. To finally have Y/N as mine and secretly in that moment, I vowed to continue to prove to her how much I loved her and how much she meant to me. 

A buzzing on the bed pulled my gaze away from Y/N’s beauty and saw her phone lit up with a message. 

“Can you check it for me?” She asked before stepping into the bathroom. 

Mom: Y/N, I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for the last week. Call me. I have something important to talk to you about. You can’t be busy with this job of yours so call me back. 

“It’s your mom,” I informed with furrowed brows. “She’s been trying to get in touch with you?”

Y/N sighed while plopping down on the bed next to me. “Yeah. It’s probably she got a new job or met some new guy that she's going to get bored with after a week. It’s nothing important.” 

I’d known Y/N for years now and I also knew when she was keeping something from me. 

I brushed away the hair that fell loose from her bun. “Is there something else going on? You know you can talk to me, angel.” 

Her eyes shone as she gazed up at me, laying a soft kiss on my palm. “I know, mochi. I know. I just don’t feel like getting lectured right now. I’m finally here with you, I don’t want her to ruin it.” 

“Alright,” I eventually nodded, and for the time being ignored the way her face fell when she deleted the text message from her mom. 

Y/N motioned to the wall opposite of us, where Matt’s room was. 

“Do you think they’ll hook up?” 

I snorted a laugh. “What’s with you setting up our friends?” 

She shrugged. “I just want him to be happy. I want our friends to have what we have.” 

“So you’re saying you’re happy?” I rested my forehead against hers, breathing in the familiar scent of her peach body wash. 

“I am very happy,” she breathed before kissing my lips. “What about you?” 

“Very,” a kiss to her lips. 

“Very.” 

Another kiss. 

“Happy.” 

Another kiss. 

When her giggles filled the room, my heart stuttered in my chest. “I love you, Y/N.” 

She twirled a strand of my hair around her finger. “I love you too, Noah.” 

I laid there with her in my arms for a long time, the never-ending silence becoming a bit of comfort to us. We could lay next to each other for hours, not saying a word to each other, but we both knew how much we loved each other. 

“Oh before I forget,” Y/N removed herself from my tight grasp, and her voice carried from the bathroom. “I brought some facemasks. I thought we could stay in and relax. I know you have a long day of rehearsals and the show tomorrow.” 

Facemasks. 

Hotel room. 

Suddenly there was a vice grip around my throat, caging in the oxygen I was desperate to take back. Its large claws dug into my jugular, making the room tilt on its axis. I couldn’t center on my breathing, I couldn’t focus on anything in front of me. 

“I didn’t bring any nail polish this time,” Y/N’s giggle barely broke through the haze. “And I can’t braid your hair.”

Nearly stumbling over the suitcases on the ground, I rushed past Y/N just as she stepped out of the bathroom and let the door to the hotel room slam behind me. The air in the hallway of the hotel was thicker, nearly making it impossible to catch my breath. The tight grip around my lungs and heart would not let up. 

"I know what I feel. It’s not you, it’s me, Noah."

I shook my head furiously when the past began to creep in.

"No. Fuck, angel! Stop! The future hasn't even happened yet. Please, don't-what do you need to happen?"

Y/N’s bottom lip trembled as a broken sob clawed its way through her throat. "I-I think we need to remain friends right now. I can't-I can't get lost in you, Noah. It's so fucking easy to. I think we need space."

How she looked that night, moments before leaving me, continued to haunt me. 

"I-I don't fucking want that, Y/N. I just want you!” My voice bellowed.

"Noah, please understand where I'm coming from," she begged.

"Angel-I. Please, just-," I eventually sighed in defeat.

Her broken eyes shined with her tears. "I'm going to head out."

I dug my palms into my eyes as I stood in the middle of the hallway, trying to stop letting my mind fall back into the past. All it took was two fucking words and I was back to that shell of a man I used to be. 

Face masks.

I immediately flooded to where I was before all this. I felt like a scolded child with aging wounds.

Embarrassing. 

Why did I just do that? Why did I leave the room for air? When the air I needed was back in the room? The emotional hurricane was in full force today. On the surface, it’s joking and light, but then it wants to pull me into the vortex. With each jibe, I feel the winds clipping wings of my own. I can’t allow it. 

I refused. 

I won’t circle the fucking drain. I began to feel my body relax and my voice flowed out calmly, instead of me being pulled in. 

I decided I needed to inhale the air I could never survive without.

“Keaton,” I cried softly while rubbing at the ache in my chest. “I need you, man. Please tell me everything will be alright.” 

With the feeling of someone holding me upright, a soft breeze blew through my hair in the middle of the hotel hallway. A door down the hall opened, catching my attention immediately was a man wearing an all too familiar band t-shirt. 

Too Close To Touch.

Along with the soft touch encasing me, I let out a quiet hum as a haunting flow of lyrics poured out of me. 

“If you still want to sing, fill in the blanks we need. You can do it through me while you're gone.”

Then as quickly as those arms wrapped around me, they were gone and I felt alone in the hallway. But not before a soft voice whispered in my ear. 

It’s okay.

Knocking on the hotel room door, realizing I didn’t have my key, I saw Y/N’s dark eyes staring daggers into me. All that inner rage inside those beautiful eyes made the guilt for walking away from her eat away at me even further; I deserved it. 

When the frustration builds and I think I might explode, I have to remember to take a deep breath. So many times I’ve wanted to say things, or say anything. It was a long process with learning how to deal with it. 

Her nostrils flared as I gently walked past her into the hotel room. Y/N needed to hear my explanation. I was ready to move forward. Reaching for a life I so badly yearned for with her. Here she was, in front of me. She was mine and she loved me. 

Say something, you idiot!

“Angel-.” I began. 

“What the fuck was that?” She whipped her head back at the door.

Oh shit, she’s mad.

The voice in my head didn’t sound like mine. Instead, it sounded like an old friend. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that. It’s just when you mentioned face masks and braids, my mind went back to a place, a darker place,” my hands shook as I stuffed them in my sweater pocket. 

The anger in Y/N’s eyes vanished when it clicked for her what moment I was talking about. 

“Mochi,” her voice wavered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to go back to that night. I know how hard it was for you, for both of us. I just thought we could recreate that night, the positives, and make up for the negatives.” 

I linked our hands together to pull her into my chest, laying a chaste kiss on her lips. 

“I’m ready to create many positive memories with you, angel.” 

“Good,” she gave a small nod. “But next time something like this bothers you, please talk to me. Because you can't just run from sadness when it gets too hard to stay.” 

“Really?” I snorted. “You’re using my lyrics on me?” 

“Did it work?”

I wanted to kiss that hopeful smile off her face. 

Instead, I winked and then pressed my hips into her, my cock brushing along her pussy. “You tell me.”

“You know,” her fingers danced through my hair. “I do miss a few things about that night.”

I cocked a brow. “Yeah?” 

Y/N stood on her tiptoes to brush her lips across mine. “I missed how I rode your cock while pulling on your braids.”

I shook my hair in her face. “You can still pull, angel.” 

With one quick scoop, I had her in the air for a few moments before her body fluttered to the bed like the angel she was; her giggles bouncing off the walls. I was on her in a flash, attacking her lips with mine. Ravishing them like a man starved, wanting to lick up every last drop of the meal put out in front of him. Her tongue always molded perfectly with mine and Y/N hummed in delight when she tasted me. 

“Shit, mochi,” she moaned while arching her neck back as I attacked the sweet spot between her shoulder and neck. 

My cock twitched underneath my sweats and I rutted into her thigh. “Angel, I missed you.” 

She reciprocated the feelings by kissing me again and slipping her hands underneath my sweater to drag her nails down the tattoos on my stomach. I shivered under the touch, loving the feeling of the burn her nails left behind, and I stripped her of her clothes, me following suit—all the while our lips never left each other. 

Her skin on mine felt like the wings of an angel; soft and almost incandescent. 

Her lips were like honey, sweet and sticky with gloss. 

The arousal that I gathered with my fingers and sucked clean had a lingering tangy taste, something I found myself wanting more of. 

A scent and taste that was distinctively Y/N. 

“I love you,” I vowed in between kisses while I pumped my fingers in and out of her, using my other hand to lock her hands above her head.

“I love you,” she keened when my knuckle brushed over that spot. 

The last time we shared a hotel bed, it ended with two broken souls, desperate to be molded back together. They spent months yearning to find each other again and now that they were connected again, we both refused to let something so minuscule as face masks ruin it. 

READER

“Noah, stop!” I giggled when his lips brushed along the shell of my ear.

“Please, angel,” his gruff voice begged as his arms wrapped around me from behind. 

I turned in his embrace, linking my fingers behind his neck, and marveled at those almond eyes I adored so much. 

“No, Folio and Michelle are going to be here any minute,” I reminded him. 

Noah adjusted the glasses on his nose with a pout. He woke up this morning with irritated eyes and not wanting to make it worse with contacts, he opted to wear his glasses. 

Not that I minded, it reminded me of the time in his computer chair. 

The tour ended a few days ago and now that all of us were back home, we decided to meet up at the local aquarium so Folio could finally introduce us to his girlfriend. But Noah, however, had other plans; ones that involved us sneaking into the backseat of his SUV so he could fuck my throat. 

Tempting. 

“He’s been talking about introducing us to Michelle for two months now, are we sure today is the day?” Noah asked. 

I shrugged while pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I think so. Look how nervous he looks!” 

Both of us gazed over to the other end of the lobby of the aquarium where Folio stood alone, hands shaking at his sides. We could practically see his heart jumping out of his chest due to his nerves. 

“He’s never been this nervous before,” Noah murmured. 

“Can you blame him? Look what she’s about to walk into,” I waved a hand at our large group. 

Chase and Malcolm were looking at the large tank in the lobby that housed a variety of fish. Chase had his hand on Malcolm's lower back as he whispered something in his ear. 

Jolly and Astrid stood a few feet away from us, a small smile pulling at her lips when he braided her long white hair for her. 

Jesse and Maxxine stood with Davis, Michael, and Matt, conversing about something we couldn’t hear. But I watched with careful eyes as Matt’s gaze kept darting back to one certain area in the lobby; where a blue-haired girl was currently talking with Bryan. 

Most likely about cameras.

When Matt’s eyes locked with mine, I motioned with a finger over to the girl but he rolled his eyes playfully before going back to talking with Michael.

Nicholas had sauntered up to Folio, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

There were a lot of us in our group but we were family. All of us. 

“Folio! How did you and Michelle meet?” Davis questioned when all of us met in the middle of the lobby. 

“At the Harley shop,” he chuckled, his earring shaking with the rumble of his body. “She wore her Motley Crue shirt and these cheetah flare suede pants. Her lips were red as fuck, I’ll remember those lips anywhere.”

All of us could hear the dreamy tone in his voice when he spoke about her and how the first thing that caught his attention was how she stood up to the man behind the counter who almost refused her service because he thought she didn’t know anything about bikes. 

“I thought she was going to kick this guy's ass until I stepped in. We hit it off right away and she asked if I wanted to visit this Mexican ice cream shop around the block,” Folio smiled. 

Just then someone walked up behind him, wrapping his arms around him, and I could see all the nerves slip out of his fingers. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips with a kiss. 

Michelle smiled, showcasing off those red lips. “Hi, cinnamon.”

“Cinnamon? Really?” Matt teased when Folio’s cheeks turned a deep crimson. 

“Everyone, this is Michelle. My girlfriend,” he said with a proud smile. 

While all the introductions happened, I gave her a big welcoming hug, I left Noah with a quick kiss on his lips. 

“Where are you going?” He pouted while reaching for my hips again. 

I giggled and playfully smacked his hands away. “I’m going to talk to Matt quickly.” 

Immediately Noah understood and dismissed me with a gentle pat on my ass. I found Matt standing a few feet away from the group of girls, his own dreamy smile on his face as he watched her carefully. 

“Hey,” I tipped the rim of his hat. “It’s rude to stare.” 

“Like you’re the one to talk,” he playfully shoved me. “With all the staring you and Noah did before you got together.” 

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Very funny, Dierkes. I just came over to see how things are going with a certain fairy?” 

Suddenly as if she heard me speak of her, that familiar airy laughter reached Matt, who clutched at his heart. 

“I’m so fucked,” he admitted with a slight lift of his lips. 

[fooled-around-and-fell]

tiny socks and bibs

summary: sukuna briefly hints at the possibility of one day having a family with you, and you tell him you don't want kids pairing: ryomen sukuna x female reader content warnings: just a little angsty, happy end, ooc sukuna, cursing, no curses modern day au -- not at all accurate to the manga/anime ok

Masterlist

-----

Sukuna called you over to hang out at his place today. You never say no, because you love spending time indoors and with him, so you immediately get ready and are on your way. But you didn't expect him to have a baby in his arms as he opens the door.

"Sorry," Sukuna apologizes, "My brother called last minute, I have to babysit him today and I haven't had the chance to tell you.."

The baby keeps slapping Sukuna's face out of glee and you chuckle. Seems like he has been quite busy.

"Meet Yuuji," Sukuna sighs, "My nephew."

You decide to stay and help him babysit his nephew -- you're already there anyway, you're not about to go home just because of this.

"Have you guys eaten yet?" You ask as you take your shoes off.

"No, but Yuuji here just had some milk- ow, hey," Sukuna frowns as Yuuji bites his arm. It doesn't actually hurt, of course.

"I'll make something for the both of us. Can I use your kitchen?"

Sukuna chuckles and kisses your cheek, "Baby, this place is practically yours, you know that."

"Mm, I know, I just like to be polite." You smile cheekily.

You hear gibberish coming out of Yuuji as he reaches for you from Sukuna's arms. You can only assume he wants you to carry him instead.

"Looks like I'm cooking," Sukuna says, passing Yuuji to you, not knowing what to do with a baby in your arms.

You laugh awkwardly and sit by the kitchen island, having Yuuji sit on your lap. He's waving his toy airplane around and you think he's trying to show it to you, but you really don't know what to do.

"Hey, how old is he again?"

"Like almost a year," Sukuna answers, "He's learning how to walk."

You hop down from the stool and go to the living room, where you see Yuuji's toys. Yuuji sits in front of you, giving you his toy airplane before he reaches for the table, slowly pulling himself up to stand.

"Omg," you whisper, hands hovering next to him just in case he falls. "Ryo, he's standing!"

"Yeah, let him practice!" Sukuna says, not even turning around.

Yuuji's hips bounces from left to right, his legs shifting from one to the other because he has trouble distributing his weight and finding balance. You let out a giggle, he looks like he's dancing.

"Auh," Yuuji turns his head to look at you, pointing with one of his hands.

"Sorry, sorry, won't laugh at you again, promise." You grin.

Deciding he's tired, Yuuji drops to his butt and crawls back to you, wanting to ask for his toy airplane again but gets distracted with his other toys on the floor.

"Naa," Yuuji shakes his teddy bear vigorously before biting on the bear's arm, "Naaaa-mm."

You raise your brow at the little kid chewing on his toy. Kids are truly a puzzle to you. They're adorable, but something you'd usually admire from afar. You've never really spent time with a baby before, so this is a first.

Sukuna brings over two plates of food to the living room, turning on the TV so Yuuji's distracted and he can have some time with you.

"Thank you for the food," You smile, taking a bite of what he made.

"Thanks for looking after him." Sukuna smiles back, "You don't have to stay, by the way, he's gonna be here all day... unfortunately."

You hum, "I don't mind. I can also help out."

-----

The day goes by faster than you expected, mostly because Yuuji fell asleep and that also lead you and Sukuna to take a nap. Taking care of a baby is hard, that's for sure. You never thought changing a diaper would be so difficult but it proved to be a huge challenge.

It's around 5pm, and Yuuji's parents finally comes to pick him up. Sukuna sighs in relief, handing Yuuji over to you while he gets the baby's stuff and opens the door.

"Hi Yuuji, ready to go home?" His mom coos, taking Yuuji from your hands, "Thank you for taking care of him."

"And him." Sukuna's brother comments, motioning to your boyfriend, "Be honest, was it like taking care of two babies?"

"Alright, alright." Sukuna rolls his eyes before ushering his family out and closing the door. "Sorry about that."

Chuckling, you stretch and yawn. "It's fine. They seem fun."

"They can be a hassle," He yawns too, yanking you to lay on top of him. "Stay the night?"

"Mm," You hum and nod your head, slowly about to drift to sleep when Sukuna says something unexpected.

"You take care of Yuuji so well," He mumbles, "You'd be an amazing mom one day."

And then the sleepiness leaves you. You know it's a general praise that people give out towards others, but it makes you wonder if Sukuna meant what he said.

No, you don't want kids. Not because you hate kids -- they're kids -- but you really just don't. They look like they're a lot of work and you just don't see yourself being a parent in your future.

But what if Sukuna wants kids?

You've never really thought about that -- not because you just assume that Sukuna wouldn't want kids, but just because both of you haven't talked about it. And from what he said, it sounds like he does want kids.

You slowly get up from Sukuna's embrace, and he has a questioning look on his face. "What's up?"

"Um," You start, "I guess we've never really talked about this before..."

"...Oh, you're right." He says, scratching the back of his neck. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No!" You immediately say, "No, you didn't. I just..." Sighing, you hold his hand and fix your posture so you're facing him. "Ryo, I don't want to have kids."

Sukuna blinks a few times before nodding, "Okay."

"Huh?"

"I said okay," He repeats himself. "Then we're not having kids."

"Ryo, you don't want kids?" You look him in the eye, trying to see if he's lying.

Sukuna sighs with a small smile like he can't believe you haven't figured it out yet. "I don't care about tiny socks, toy airplanes, or little bibs. All I want and need is you."

And it takes you by surprise -- his words, his desire still for you. Because usually when these conversations happen, you end up having to say "it's okay if you want kids, I guess things just won't work between us." and you're not sure what to do when the person you love accepts you for who you are.

Part of you is screaming he might just be saying it to make you happy, while the other part is telling you -- hey, he's straight up telling you he only cares about you. Why aren't you letting yourself be happy? This is what you've always wanted, to have someone love you despite your flaws.

And you laugh with tears in your eyes. "You really mean that?"

"I'll prove it to you." Sukuna says, kissing your tears away. "I'll prove it to you every day."

You smile and caress his cheek. "You're such a sap today, Ryo."

He rolls his eyes and pulls you back to lay on the bed with him. "Yeah, yeah."

Smiling contently, you let yourself be engulfed in his arms, pressing a kiss on the crook of his neck. "Thank you."

"I didn't do anything."

"You accepted me for who I am."

"I've always done that." He responds. "And always will."

You giggle. "Sap."

He only groans in response, burying you even closer to his chest so you wouldn't see the blush creeping up his cheeks. But you can tell by the way his heartbeat races, and it makes your heart do the same thing, matching his pace.

-----

"I'm open to having dogs though." You say.

"Not a chance."

"..."

"Okay, one."

"..."

"But we're getting a cat."

[anarchy-and-piglins]

After a mere half hour spent in the same room as these people, Philza has already been reminded of why he doesn't normally answer a summons.

The constant staring annoys him to no end. He supposes it's to be expected, what with his country's reputation for being a complete enigma. The Antarctic Empire is one of the lucky few nations that operates entirely self-sufficiently, producing all their own resources. They do not trade with other countries often. In fact, the mountain ranges that border the very south of their peninsula do not offer any convenient trading routes to begin with. And since that same treacherous terrain also cuts the empire off from the continent in such a way that passing through becomes a challenge in wilderness survival, they're mostly left to their devices. Some folks still believe Phil's nation is a myth, a story conjured up by fairytales.

So Phil coming all the way out here for Dante's attempt at diplomacy must be quite the sight. Most people will die without ever having seen the king of the Antarctic Empire, no wonder they have a hard time looking away.

That won't stop Phil from getting some satisfaction every time one of these pompous nobles cowers if he so much as flexes his wings and turns toward them. He's currently locked in a bit of a staring contest with a man across the room. Phil doesn't know if he's another royal or random noble, but he does know he can't stand the look on this fucking guy's face.

At one point the man smiles more broadly, as if pleased that Phil caught him staring. He bows his head a bit, with Phil half-heartedly returning the courtesy, tucking in his wings to keep them from flaring automatically with the gesture. However, this leaves Phil's elbow to bump into somebody trying to slide past him.

Phil didn't expect anybody to be there, the entire crowd had been giving him a pretty wide berth all evening. He's even more surprised when he sees it's a child, maybe ten or eleven years old. His fancy clothes and intricately braided pink hair with golden jewelry betray him as a prince.

"Sorry," Phil says. He reaches out to steady the boy, but the kid flinches and steps back at his attempted touch, pulling his sleeves up over his wrists. "I didn't see you there, are you okay?"

The boy looks up at him and instead of answering, his blue eyes widen a bit. "You're the emperor of the Antarctic Empire," he says. The statement is delivered in a deceptively neutral tone, especially for somebody of such a young age. Phil is used to more dramatic reactions.

"I am. Call me Phil. What's your name?" Phil smiles gently at the boy. He always had a soft spot for children.

Again, he doesn't receive an answer. Instead, the boy's gaze moves across him for a moment, pondering. He grins slightly, but it's a strange sort of expression. Almost private. As if nobody else is supposed to see. "You're shorter than I thought you'd be," the boy says. Before Phil can blink or respond, he's disappeared into the crowd.

Phil is very much left completely flabbergasted.

Curiosity ever the greatest motivator for him, Phil walks up to the man who was staring at him earlier. The guy pales three shades at seeing Phil approach him, maybe thinking his rude behavior is getting retribution after all. But Phil couldn't care less about this man anymore.

He wants to know who the boy is.

"The child I was just talking to, do you know who he is?" Phil asks, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

"Who- Oh, he's nobody, sir." The way the man blunders and becomes overly formal brings Phil little pleasure. "Prince Techno. From the Blade family."

"From the Blade family? What is he doing so far away from home?"

"He's King Dante's ward." 

Phil glances over to where the man is looking, in the direction of Dante himself. Techno is standing next to the king, head bowed a bit and seeming pretty disgruntled to be there. But when Dante lays his hand almost delicately on the nape of Techno's neck, the boy flinches again and forces a neutral expression on his face.

"You know how the Blade family is," the man says grimly. "Ferocious beasts of war, all of them. It's a wonder Dante has managed to secure an allyship. They even got close enough bonds to leave their son in Dante's care."

Thinking about the summons, about how Dante was a nobody three years ago who since managed to overthrow several small countries by using superior weapons and strategies - those the likes of which only the Blade nation is known for - makes several things click into place. Allyship? It makes sense. A lot of sense.

Then what is the uncomfortable feeling that seems hooked into Phil's gut?

(Maybe it's because of the flinching. Or because of how Techno seems to move around like a ghost. Or because when he pulled up his sleeves, Phil was sure he saw the faded blue and purple of bruises on the boy's pale skin.

The Blade family runs their kingdom in a similar way to the Antarctic Empire. They don't make allies. Only enemies.)

"Are you staying for the peace conference, sir?" the man is brave enough to ask, now that Phil has broken the ice. It's probably a question for many of them. Despite Dante's ruthless way of overtaking other countries, Phil's empire isn't threatened by him. He's only here as a formality. He has no reason to stay, no stakes in this game.

Dante pulls his hand away and it's like Techno can finally breathe again. Phil's eyes meet his for a moment, then the boy looks away.

"I think I'll stick around to see how things unfold," Phil says pleasantly.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Heavy

Summary: Reader's having a depressive episode and needs some comfort from her mate

Content Warnings: Depression

Author's Note: I should be finishing my Vamp!Rhys fic but I got sad and wrote this instead

------------------------------------------------------

Velaris is beautiful at night, from the glittering stars overhead, to the soft gurgle of the Sidra rushing over time worn stones beneath the city’s many intricate bridges. The music makes the whole city feel full of light and laughter, couples often dancing and humming in the streets. It’s one of your favorite places to be.

Usually.

Tonight it’s just… there. Though you stand in the heart of it, everything moves around you, never quite touching you. It’s as if you’re suddenly a stranger in the place you love the most, the emotional distance between you palpable.

You jam your hands in your pockets and keep walking, though you’re not really sure where you’re going, your body moving on autopilot. It’s been like that for a couple weeks now, if you’re honest, you’ll be half way through the day sometimes before you realize you’re not sure how or when you even got out of bed, or gotten dressed. Did you even eat? Kiss your mate good morning? Rhys has been working long hours in Illyria lately, most nights you’re already asleep before he’s even tumbling into bed, but, now that you’re thinking about it, that could also be because you’ve been going to sleep earlier too.

You frown at your boots as you walk, trying to remember when this happened. It’s not new, you’ve had bouts of this since you were a teenager, but they’ve been better thanks to regular sessions with Madja and some other healers. Art therapy in the Rainbow has helped too. Usually you can tell when you’re starting to slip into the darker places in your head, but it crept up on you this time.

By the time your mindless wanderings bring you back to the Townhouse, the light from your upstairs bedroom is already on, meaning Rhys somehow finished his business and beat you home. You’d only planned to grab some takeout so you wouldn’t have to cook, and yet, here you stand, hands as empty as your stomach.

The door opens before you can even reach for your key, soft light spilling out into the entryway. “There you are!” Rhys says by way of greeting, as if he’d been waiting by the door for you. Your mate leans in to place a quick peck on your lips as he guides you inside.

“Did you go to Rita’s with Mor?”

He should be able to tell you hadn’t, since you’re wearing the same sweatpants you had been for a week, but then again, he also hasn’t been home enough to know you haven’t changed out of them. 

“No I…” you hate talking about this stuff, hate feeling like you’re burdening anybody with the weight you feel pressing down on your chest. “Uh, went to get dinner.”

Rhys stares down at your empty hands, eyebrows raised teasingly. “Did you forget to bring it back?”

You run a hand over your eyes. Cauldron they’re so heavy! Why is everything always so heavy? Your whole body feels like it’s made of bricks, just the effort to kick off your boots feels like it takes every single drop of energy you have left. “Sorry.” Even speaking feels like too much.

Rhys frowns, “Darling, are you ok?”

“Just tired,” you say, avoiding his eyes now. 

He steps forward, placing a knuckle under your chin and tilting your face towards him. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m tired,” you repeat, but your eyes are watering now. 

He stills, violet eyes roaming over you, assessing for the first time tonight how you look, the dark circles under your eyes. He knows you haven’t had trouble sleeping, he’s barely been able to wake you when he comes home at night. “It’s getting bad again, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, tears falling in earnest now.

Rhys’s features soften as he lifts you into his arms, the bond flooding with warmth and understanding as he says, “It’s not your fault. You can’t help it.”

You rest your head on his shoulder as he carries you upstairs. “I thought I was doing better… but everything just feels heavy again.”

He kisses your forehead gently as he climbs into bed and settles you down against his chest. Twisting, his wings unfurl so he can curl one around you, cocooning you in the warmth of his body. “What can I do to help?”

You wrap an arm around his waist as you settle your face against his chest, his heartbeat steady and even beneath you. Madja had said once that this was helpful if you got overly anxious, the steadiness of his breathing helping yours level out, and it helps now too, gives you something to focus on. It’s grounding and you let your breathing sync up, your chest rising and falling against his own. Madja hadn’t been able to stress enough how important it was to find something to ground you in the present when you got like this, lest your thoughts start to spiral deeper and deeper into the dark.

“Just need you to hold me for a little while,” you say.

Rhys pulls your favorite blanket up over the two of you before wrapping an arm around your waist. “I love you,” and the bond floods with more warmth than you think you deserve, but it doesn’t let up when those thoughts sneak in. “I’ll do anything you need me to.”

You place a gentle kiss to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he replies, fingers tracing shapes in your back. “No one has all good days.”

“But nothing even happened,” you protest. “I just woke up one morning and it was just so heavy to be awake.”

He kisses your temple. “We can see Madja in the morning, if you need, but you can’t beat yourself up. You have no control over it.”

You press your temple into his chest and breath in the jasmine and citrus scent of him. “I hate it.”

He places another kiss to the top of your head. You know he hates it too, hates that it’s a battle he can’t fight for you, no matter how much he wants to. “It will pass.”

Rhys is warm, his presence soothing, the darkness that seeps from his skin on the days he hasn’t had the time to expel enough of it, drifting over your body in soothing motions. This is safe and quite and peaceful. Your body starts to settle more and more as time goes on.

“Do you really believe that?” You whisper. “That it’ll pass?”

“Yes,” he says. “It has before, and it will again.” Knowing he’s had the experience himself, you’re inclined to believe he’s right.

“I’m glad you’re with me,” you admit. 

Rhys holds you a little tighter, “Till all the stars fall from the sky, my love.” He holds you all night, whispering all the things he loves about you as you start to fall asleep.

You let yourself fall into it, hoping tomorrow will be better.

[matan4il]

I don’t know if you or anyone can really answer this accurately, but are GoFundMes for people living in Gaza trustworthy at all? or even trustworthy on a case by case basis? a musician I like (Maisie Peters) shared several today, with “help (these families) move out of Rafah,” and it gave me pause because I wholly believe in helping people who need it, but how can we possibly know if that contribution will go to the worthwhile places and families who need it? so much aid is being stolen by Hamas and UNRWA even still, and I have no idea how well researched any of those individual fundraisers are. I’m sure people mean well but it seems like there must be a more reliable option?

Hi Nonnie!

You're so right to be doubtful. Every humanitarian crisis brings with it a bunch of scams, but when we talk about a situation where there can be terrorists getting the aid, I think being cautious with people asking for money is extra justified. I'm glad you already know about the theft of humanitarian aid in Gaza, and are being careful.

First, I will say that the ones setting money to get people out of Gaza completely are very suspect to me. Especially now. Egypt has not only been extremely reluctant to take in refugees from Gaza, even on a temporary basis (for historic reason I won't get into, and which have little to do with "preventing ethnic cleansing"), they've doubled down on closing their border with Gaza to the point of not even allowing humanitarian aid in through their border anymore. Even before this recent development, they were only allowing in medical cases. We do know some people, related to Hamas, got out of Gaza, likely by pretending to be a medical case. This would suggest that maybe, up until the recent Egyptian crackdown, there was a way to bribe some Egyptian personnel to look the other way, and pretend regular people were medical cases, but it would take substantial amounts of money, and would be limited in how many could actually get through that way. In essence, you had no way of knowing who legitimately would take your money and use it to get out of Gaza, and who would just take your money, and do with it God only knows what. At best, just keep it to themselves, at worst use it for terrorist purposes. There is NO WAY for people outside the region to be able to check how the money will be used, or if any of the claims made by a campaign runner are legit, so anyone telling you, "This is safe, it's been vetted!" is either fooling you, or is being fooled themselves.

Inside Gaza, people don't actually need money to get out of Rafah. They can just... move out. Israel has already set up an improvised shelter city within walking distance from Rafah, it also already allows evacuation to other safe parts of south Gaza, and we know that hundreds of thousands of Palestinians have already moved out of Rafah and away from the zones designated for military action. And this costs nothing. Especially with humanitarian aid being poured non-stop into Gaza, including temporary shelters. Are those great? No. But if the goal is to get out of Rafah, it's possible to do that without paying a dime.

Bottom line, I'm not saying every fundraising campaign is untrustworthy, I'm saying that there is no way to know which one is and which one isn't, and that I personally wouldn't donate to any, because I wouldn't want my money to go to terrorist activities no matter what, and when I know that people do have alternatives and can get by, even if they don't get my donations, I'd rather be safe than sorry, meaning having to live with the possibility that my money directly got someone murdered.

I hope this helps! Take care! xoxox

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[borathae]

↳ Index [Chapter 04 - Woods]

Focus on Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader

Warnings: so many fluffy sweet moments, i have no words to describe how much this chapter makes me cry in a romantic way, they love each other so much!!!, it's insane how much they love each other, a cute date by a forest lake, Yoongi is also very hot because he cuts wood with an axe in a tanktop🥵, sorry i have a thing for people cutting wood don't ask any further questions thank you, skinny tipping, Yoongi being a cuddly cutie, he teaches her a few magic tricks, serious talks about family but make it romantic, have i already mentioned that they're soulmates who LOVE each other??

Wordcount: 11.1k

a/n: i don't wanna talk, i just wanna cry

Jungkook isn’t spooning you anymore the next morning. You stretch, yawning loudly. Today will be a good day. You can feel it in your heart. You sit up and look around the room. His clothes are missing, which means he already left for downstairs. You want to see if you can meet him or your other boys somewhere.

You throw your legs out of bed and stand up with a happy swing in your movements. You slip into your house shoes and leave for downstairs.

Taehyung and Yoongi are nowhere to be found and in the kitchen, only your grandparents are currently present. Your grandfather sits by the table, solving a crossword puzzle while your grandmother is in the midst of making cooking dough.

They turn their heads upon the sounds of you coming down the stairs.

“Oh look who is awake already”, your grandfather says.

“Good morning”, you greet them, hurrying to your grandmother to hug her tightly, “good morning, gram’ma”, you say into the crook of her shoulder. 

“Good morning, my honeybee”, she answers you, caressing your lower arm with tenderness. 

You give her a soft squeeze and let go of her for the sake of hugging your grandfather. He chuckles deeply, leaning into the hug. A crosswords puzzle is half finished in front of him. 

“Good morning, my forest strider”, he says. 

“Did you sleep well?” you ask them and straighten up.

“We did. Did you sleep well?” your grandmother asks.

“I did. I love my bed here. It’s so cozy.”

“That’s good to hear. Can you remember when you and grandpa built it?”

“Of course I do”, you say, sitting down next to your grandfather, “you did all the hard work and I helped you put the glue on. And then we asked grandma to join us for the staining. I really liked those days.” 

“We liked them as well.”

“We really did”, your grandfather says and pats your arm, “my girl, we really loved it when you were with us.” 

You smile, “I loved it as well.”

“Mhm, my girl”, your grandfather mumbles and looks into his crosswords. He will never change and painfully enough, when he went, the thing you missed most were his nicknames for you. It feels so good to hear them in his voice again. It’s reassuring to know that your memory of his voice was so accurate. It brings a little comfort to know that the heart will never forget. Just as it never forgets smells, sounds are right there beside them, keeping people alive. 

“Did you perhaps see where Jungkook went?” you ask no one in particular. 

“Jungkook? No, he hasn’t been downstairs yet. But I already saw Yoongi. He helped me with the chickens this morning”, your grandfather says. 

“This sounds like him. He really loves to help. His readiness to help everyone and anyone was such a big reason why I fell for him.”

“He is a very proper young man. And very knowledgeable as well. We talked about wood for quite some time. He knows a lot about woodworking.” 

“He does. He made so much furniture for me already”, you say and nudge your grandfather’s arm, “sometimes we build it together. Like you and I did.” 

Your grandfather nods his head and smiles to himself, “my girl, yes my girl.” 

You shift your eyes to your grandmother. She is forming cookies with her fingers.

“Is he still in the garden?” 

“He must be. He helped with the washing up and then spoke of going to the forest for firewood”, your grandmother says.

“Mhm, I see. I think I might look for him”, you say and stand up to walk to the fridge, “after breakfast that is.”

Your grandparents work in the garden once you come outside after washing up. You call to them.

“I’m gonna look for Yoongi now!” 

“Okay, be careful!”

“Don’t go too close to the stream!”

“I will and I won’t!” you say and wave them goodbye. You turn, walking up the path in a happy skip.

You have crossed the corner and have the forest gate in your view, when someone calls your name above your head. You stop and lift your head. 

Taehyung and Jungkook stand by the guest bedroom window and wave their hands at you excitedly. Taehyung is behind Jungkook, clearly back hugging him. 

“Good morning, you two”, you call up, waving back at them. 

“Good morning”, they say in unison.

“Where are you going with that picnic basket?” Jungkook asks. 

You step closer to the window so you could talk easier. The climbing rose, crawling up the walls to their window, smells sweet. 

“The forest. Yoongi went out for firewood and I want to find him and then have breakfast with him because I know he hasn’t eaten yet.” 

“That sounds lovely. Have you been awake for long?” Taehyung asks.

“About an hour, I would say. I had breakfast with grams and paps. Did you just wake up?” 

“Ten minutes ago. I think?” Taehyung says.

“Yes ten minutes ago. I’ve been awake for a while. You were sleeping so deeply so I didn’t wanna wake you. I went for a walk and then went to Tae for cuddles”, Jungkook says.

“Ah, that explains why you were suddenly gone”, you say fondly, “did you have a nice walk?”

“I did. The forest is so quiet in the morning.”

“It really is. You both look so handsome today.”

“Heh, thankies”, Jungkook says with a scrunch of his nose.

“You look beautiful as well, my darling.”

“Heh, thanks. Are you gonna do something today?”

“Perhaps. For now we are enjoying the morning scents”, Taehyung says and nuzzles his nose into Jungkook’s neck. 

The latter leans into him, closing his eyes halfway. 

“Well then, I don’t wanna keep you from it. See you later, guys. I love you”, you say and send them flying kisses. 

They both catch them, giggling just as you do.

“We love you too”, they say in unison, waving you goodbye as you continue your journey to the forest.

“She’s glowing today”, Taehyung says as he watches you skip up the path.

“I thought the same.”

“Do you think that she will find Yoongi?” 

“I bet she will. But even if she won’t, she’ll have a good time. She’ll probably just look at plants and cry over small animals.” 

Taehyung laughs fondly. Jungkook does the same. 

“That is something she would do.” 

“Yeah right?” 

You disappear out of their sight as the forest swallows you. The two men shift their eyes back to the view of the forest before them. Taehyung steps closer to Jungkook and hugs his waist tighter.

“Your heart’s racing like crazy by the way”, Jungkook speaks softly as his fingers play with Taehyung’s mindlessly. He has his left hand rested on the window sill and Jungkook took the chance.

“Because I am with you.”

“You’re a softie.” 

“I am. For you”, Taehyung kisses Jungkook’s neck gently, “my weakness.” 

Jungkook smiles fondly, “softie.”

The lovely scent of forest becomes stronger as you take the path you took countless times before. You pass the Rock and dodge the Branches. Yoongi doesn’t know these woods, so he must not have gone far and knowing your grandfather, he most definitely told him about his woodworking spot not far from here. He chops his firewood there and stacks it. You spent many afternoons by his side, watching him work or exploring the surrounding forest. Sometimes you returned with some sticks, stones and insects, asking him all sorts of questions about them. Your grandfather always took his time to answer you even if, sometimes, he had no idea himself. You know these days that some of his answers were made up lies because he couldn’t bring himself to let his granddaughter down. You still like his answers these days and even if you knew the real answer these days, the first thing your grandfather taught you will always be the most precious to you.

The firewood clearing is around six minutes from the cottage. You walk along the path and stop to look at plants. One time you stop for a small bird because it was trying to get an acorn open by hammering it against a stone and it was so adorable to watch that you had to take it in for a bit. The firewood clearing is only six minutes from the cottage, but it takes you twice as long to get there. You don’t mind the delay because it meant that you took time to see the beauty all around you. Something about these forests really reminds you how important it is to do that.

The sound of a person chopping wood is the first thing you hear. You were correct. Yoongi is on the clearing. You quicken your steps, feeling your heart flutter in excitement. Even your stomach tingles nervously. How silly of it, acting as if you still had to be nervous around him. Perhaps that is what makes it so exciting however. You still feel giddy at the aspect of seeing him, just as giddy as if he was your secret crush. 

The clearing reveals itself once you walk past the stacks of firewood. A heap of unchopped firewood is to your left and to your right under the tall spruce pine, Yoongi is chopping wood. He is in a tanktop and jeans, having his grey flannel wrapped around his hips. He is sweating, frowning in concentration. The giddiness grows. Wow, you have the biggest crush on this man, it’s unbelievable. 

“Yoongi”, you call for him.

He lowers the axe and turns his head. You wave at him, grinning so brightly that you can feel your cheek muscles work. He lifts his hand to wave back at you. You squeak a giggle and then run to him.

“Boongie, I saw a small bird and it was trying to get an acorn open, so it hit it against a rock over and over until it finally did it. And then I saw some ferns which had white spots on the leaves. They were so pretty, but I don’t know the name of them so I’ll have to look them up at home because maybe I wanna plant them along the forest borders”, you babble and then you have reached his side, greeting him with a kiss on the lips. 

You pull back, studying his face, “how are you doing? You’re sweating. Did you sleep well? I didn’t even notice when you left. My grandparents told me that you helped them this morning. You are so cute. I brought you food. Sorry, I’m rambling. I’m so excited today that I can’t shut up.”

Yoongi chuckles and leans in to kiss your cheek.

“I didn’t even notice”, he says sarcastically but fondly, straightening up, “you brought me food?” 

“Mh-hm yeah”, you step back and lift the basket into your visions, “breakfast because knowing you, you are forgetting that you need to eat here.” 

“Yeah, right. I actually forgot”, he says and touches his stomach, “shit, why did you gotta remind me? Now I’m hungry.”

“Noo, I’m sorry Boongie. But good thing is, I have food. I’ll set it up there”, you say and hurry to the spot. It is out of the way of potential fly away wood and next to some wild raspberry bushes, “I’ll tell you once I’m done. Okay?”

“Yeah okay”, Yoongi says and lifts his axe. You stand still and watch him. Just this one time. You might have an unhealthy obsession with him chopping wood. There is something about his concentrated frown, his arms tensing and the nonchalant toss of the finished wood before he loads the log with a new one. 

Yoongi lifts his eyes, meeting your mesmerized gaze. He rests his gloved hand on his hip, giving you a knowing smirk.

“Don’t do that. You’re hot, okay?” you whine and turn your back to him to finally get the food ready.

Yoongi chuckles to himself, shaking his head in fond disbelief. He lays out the unchopped log and lifts the axe. He feels so much more motivated to work now that you were here. He glances at you. You have laid out the blanket by now, kneeling on it as you get breakfast ready for him. His heart races, his stomach flutters. He has the biggest crush on you, it’s insane. He looks away from you and tries to concentrate on chopping wood. 

He manages to get through eight logs and then he hears your sweet voice call for him. He lowers the axe, looking at you. You are sitting on the picnic blanket with the food spread out in front of you. A big smile adorns your face, you are waving at him so excitedly that you are bouncing on the spot.

“Food’s ready.”

Yoongi nods his head in acknowledgement and leans the axe against the tree. He takes off his gloves, hanging them on the handle of the axe. Then he finally walks to you, feeling confident because you are basically eating him up with your eyes.

“That looks delicious”, he says, sitting down next to you, “what have you got for me?”

“I think you’ll like it. I’ve got some eggs and bacon and some sausages, but also veggies because you need the vitamins”, you explain, “and I’ve got coffee in a thermos. It’s the really strong one, the bitter one”, you say, “the disgusting one”, you tease to which Yoongi chuckles and leans in to peck your cheek.

“Thank you so much, my princess”, he says, “I can’t wait to dig in.”

“Yeah, dig in. Eat all of it. I already had breakfast with grams and paps.”

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, “when did you wake up today?”

“A little after sunrise I guess? I didn’t check the time”, Yoongi says and begins eating, “mhm that’s really good. I like it.”

“Yeah do?”

“I do”, Yoongi says and gives you a toothless smile.

You retort it with a scrunch of your nose and a little giggle, leaning closer instinctively as your giddy eyes race over his face. Even your shoulders lifted to your ears because you were so, so giddy. Truly, you couldn’t even deny that you were utterly in love with this man. It is so obvious.

“Eat as much as you want. I made it just for you.”

“I will, thank you love”, Yoongi says and takes a big bite.

“And?” you ask him with widened eyes.

He glances at them, then his food. He nods his head, “it’s good.”

“Thank you, wow”, you melt giddily, “eat a lot, my love.”

“Mhm.”

You watch him take two bites and then you have to talk again.

“Kookie told me that you and Tae had a talk last night.”

“Yeah, we did.”

“I’m so happy”, you scrunch your nose giddily, “I love you both so much and it always made me sad to think that you didn’t get along.”

“It did?”

You nod your head, “it did. I didn’t want to say anything, because I know that you have a lot of history together and I didn’t want to force anything. But I really have to confess that it makes me happy that you are trying to become friends.”

“Yeah”, he looks out at the lake, “I guess we had a lot to clear up. I didn’t wanna dislike him, but also couldn’t get myself not to. Last night helped a lot. I want to honestly try from now on.”

“That’s so good to hear, my love.”

“Mhm, yeah”, he hums and takes a few bites before he talks again, “did you see Kook and Taehyung?”

“Yeah, they’re still in the guestroom. Tae woke up a few minutes ago.”

“I see.”

“Why?”

“No reason, just checking up”, Yoongi says and looks out at the lake. He sighs contently, chewing on his food with slightly squinted eyes. He genuinely really likes it. You are an amazing cook and the fact that he was already starving, makes it taste even better.

Yoongi enjoys the food to even the last little crumb and he drinks his coffee to even the last little drop. He gets back to his feet afterwards, walking back to the chopping area.

You chuckle. Yoongi looks over his shoulder.

“Why are you laughing?”

“It’s just funny how you just ate in silence only to stand up and walk away without a word”, you say, “it’s funny.”

“Sorry”, Yoongi says and returns to kneel down and kiss your cheek, “I’m not a big talker”, a kiss to your other cheek, “sometimes I forget I gotta talk to other people.”

“It’s okay, I get it. You did like it, didn’t you?”

“I did. It was really good”, he kisses your lips, “thank you for cooking.”

“Mhm Yoongs”, you whisper, pulling him in for another kiss by tangling your hands in his hair. He follows with a chuckle and his teeth nibbling on your lower lip teasingly.

“You’re lovely”, he whispers.

“I am?”

“Mhm, the loveliest”, he breathes and places a kiss to your jawline, “can I chop more wood now, mhm?” he asks in a whisper.

“Yeah, but only if I can read and sneak glances at you.”

He chuckles, kissing the shell of your ear, “that can be arranged, yeah.”

He makes you laugh. Yoongi smiles and gets to his feet, finally returning to chopping wood. He glances at you for a while. You get a book from the picnic basket and lie down on your tummy with your head facing him. You are propped up on your elbows, meeting his eyes. You smile, he retorts it. The eye contact breaks because Yoongi turned his back to you to get back into his gear.

This is the perfect day to you. You made Yoongi happy with food, can relax with a good book and watch him chop wood. Truly, there is no better way to spend a day.

Yoongi returns to the blanket once the entire pile of wood has been chopped. A few hours passed already and you have already read two thirds of the book. You are on your back by now, lost in the story fully until you hear him sit down with a loud sigh.

You lower the book, scanning your eyes over his body. His hair is soaked in sweat, it is soaking his tanktop as well, covering his arms and neck. His cheeks are flushed, carrying a layer of sweat as well. He is leaning back on his arms. His muscles are tense from the hard work. He gives you a sweet smile.

“You look hot.”

“I am. Fuck, I’m dying it’s so hot.”

“Here, drink something”, you say, offering him a bottle of water.

He accepts it, drinking it in one go. He finishes with a loud sigh and a content nod.

“That was needed, thanks.”

“Of course”, you say and scan your eyes over his body, “you’re also really hot, just saying.”

“Tch”, he scoffs, chuckling fondly, “of course you’d say that.”

“Can I touch your arms? Just once? Please?”

“Sure”, he is grinning, flexing it for you.

“Wow, so hard”, you murmur and squeeze his arm, “and so sweaty, it’s really sexy.”

“You’re being horny.”

“No, I’m not. I’m appreciative”, you defend yourself.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I can appreciate you being sweaty after hard work without being horny.”

“Mhm, sure you can.”

You nudge his arm, “meanie.”

He laughs and lies down on the blanket. He closes his eyes halfway, running them over your face obsessively. His hand he lets trail over your knee mindlessly. His touch is hot in temperature and just a little rough because the woodworking roughed up his skin even through the gloves.

“I like this”, he says.

“You do?”

He nods his head, “you’re the perfect fucking company.”

“I am?”

He hums a yes, lifting his brows in agreement.

You snicker, scrunching your nose. He makes your heart flutter like crazy.

“Did you like the book?”

“Yeah, I did. It took me a while to get lost in it, but once I did, I forgot everything around me.”

“I noticed.”

“You looked at me?”

“Too many times. Fuck princess, you gave me a hard time staying focused.”

“Yoongi”, you gasp, nudging his chest, “since when do you talk like this?”

He laughs, “I don’t know. Fuck”, he covers his eyes with his own arm, “I’m cringing at myself. That was so cheesy.”

“No, don’t cringe please. Continue. I like it so much.”

His laugh dies down, but his smile remains, “mhm, fine.”

“Good”, you say and peck his lips. He kisses you back with a hum, sitting up when you break the kiss way too soon. The answer as to why is revealed to him instantly in the form of your naked back as you pull your dress over your head.

 “What are you doing, oh my god”, Yoongi gasps, widening his eyes before turning his head away quickly.

You glance over your shoulder. He is actively looking at the blanket. He is such a gentleman, you wouldn’t even have minded if he looked.

“Undressing.”

“I can see that. Why?” he asks and goes even further by cover his eyes with his hands.

“I can hardly go into the water in my clothes. Can I?”

“The water?”

“Yeah, the lake. I wanna take a swim. I can’t do that with a dress on, can I?”

“I guess. Warn me next time, geez.”

You chuckle, “you’re so stiff sometimes. I wouldn’t even mind if you looked”, you say and tease him by throwing your dress over his head.

You hear him gasp under it and then watch his head snap up as he looks around with the fabric on his face.

“Very funny”, he says.

You snicker, “it is”, you tease, dropping your panties on his head next.

You coincidentally time it with Yoongi taking off your dress, resulting in the panties to kind of land on his hand. He takes them off to check them out, blushing vividly once he realises what he is holding.

“Fucking shit, princess”, he gasps, gawking up at you.

You merely give him a little giggle and then turn to run down the short path to the water. You jump into it with high-pitched squeaks, splashing it around you as best as possible.

“Oh my god this is cold”, you screech, sinking in deeper until the water reaches you under your neck. You laugh, twirling around a few times before you decide on looking at Yoongi instead. You grin at him, letting out a happy giggle.

He watched you, sitting with his back hunched comfortably and his head slightly tilted to the side. Your clothes are bundled neatly by his foot.

“It was so cold at first”, you tell him.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm yeah, but it’s not cold anymore. It’s nice, really refreshing”, you say and do one spin for good measures, “come join me”, you say afterwards, smiling even brighter.

Yoongi hesitates. Not because of you, but for two other reasons. One, the water is cold. Two, he would have to get naked in public. The second one is really holding him back.

“Come on, you’re gonna feel so much better afterwards.”

“What if someone sees us?”

“Nobody is gonna come here. Promise.”

“I don’t know”, he looks over his shoulder.

“Trust me. I’ve skinny dipped in this lake countless times. Nobody ever came here. Especially not in this realm.”

He looks back at you, touching the side of his neck. The boring, grumpy side of him really wants to deny you. The old Yoongi definitely would have. But Yoongi these days knows how much more fun his life feels when he says yes to your ideas.

“Fine, but look away please.”

“I am”, you say, turning around. You lean back in the water and stretch out your legs, using your arms to stay afloat. Your toes peak out of the water this way, you wiggle them happily, “I can’t believe you’re actually doing it.”

“Yeah, I don’t know either why I’m doing it. This is so insane.”

“Yeah it is, but it’s also fun”, you say and sigh happily.

“Okay, I’m coming in, but don’t look.”

“Ooh Yoongi, I’m excited”, you giggle, splashing water to handle the happiness a little easier.

“Shit, it’s fucking cold. How the fuck did you get in so easily? Wah, it’s so cold, I hate it”, Yoongi is whining, but despite that you can hear his steps come closer and closer.

“It’s because I wasn’t taking my time. The longer you take, the colder it’ll feel.”

“No, it just hurts more when you do it fast. Fuck, it’s freezing”, he says, splashing the water.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting my chest wet, I’m not risking a heart attack.”

You laugh, throwing your head back, “it’s not that cold, doofus.”

“It is cold to me”, he throws back in a whine, now wetting his back as well.

You laugh, “okay, okay if you say so.”

Yoongi curses and whines as he enters the water, stopping once it reaches him a little above his hips.

“You can turn around.”

You do so instantly, swimming to him. You stand up once you reach his side, touching his waist.

“Hey there”, you say, scrunching your nose happily, “how are you doing?”

“My balls are fucking dying off.”

“You and your struggles with your balls”, you say in laughter, tugging him further into the water by the hips.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“When I’m taking a hot bath, you complain about getting them boiled, now you whine about losing them.” 

“Hey, my balls are sensitive to temperature. Let me complain”, he throws back with a pout.

“I am, I am”, you say and snicker, “now come in here”, you add and tug him harshly. 

He stumbles, falling into the water with such force that water splashes everywhere.

“No eek”, he is squeaking, “that wasn’t cool. Why did you do that?”

“Because, I wanted to do this”, you say and hug him. You wrap your legs around his waist under the water, hooking your arms behind his head. 

He frowns at you, but his eyes carry fondness. His big hands support you under your butt, holding you safely as you and he cool off in the water.

“How are your balls doing?” 

He snorts, laughs softly.

“Fine I guess”, he murmurs.

“So they didn’t fall off?” 

“No. Fuck, this is so cold though”, he says and pulls you closer, “you’re warming my ass, understood?” 

“Mhm, I can live with that”, you say and rest your chin on his shoulder. The water ends just on the tip of your chin, splashing up and down with Yoongi’s movements, “this is so nice. Seriously.”

“Mhm, it’s good”, he agrees, looking at the view. Your body feels really warm against his’, your skin really soft. He doesn’t feel the cold where you touch and on the places he does, it’s not uncomfortable anymore because your warmth is stronger than the cold of the water. He knew saying yes to you would pay off. He never did something like this before. Both skinny dipping and cuddling with someone under water. It’s new to him and it’s only as nice because he experiences it with you.

“Do you still feel hot?” you ask him.

“No.”

“See? The swim was a good idea.”

“Yeah, I guess it was”, he says, giving your butt a little squeeze, “you’re still foul for pulling me in like that.”

“If I didn’t, we would still be standing”, you say, snickering when he bites your neck gently.

“Brat.”

The sounds of the forest are especially nice. The gentle gurgling of the water harmonises with the countless songs of birds and the faint rustling of leaves in the barely there breeze. You have view of the shore, the picnic and the woodworking space behind it. Yoongi has view of the distant mountains, the forest and the rest of the lake. The sunlight reflects in its surface. It isn’t as calm as it once was and he knows that it is because you and he disturbed it. It is beautiful to him because it makes the sunlight sparkle like hundreds of gems. He likes that his eyes don’t hurt when he looks at it. Yoongi pulls you closer to him and releases a deep sigh.

“Are you okay?” you ask him. Of course you do.

“Yeah, just breathed. It’s nice.”

“Yeah, it’s so nice.”

You give him a gentle squeeze, smiling to yourself. You like how open with his feelings he is these days and that he is saying yes to your spontaneous ideas more than he says no. Of course you would have respected it if he denied you right now, but it is still so much more exciting to share this moment with him. It is so intimate and romantic without even having to try a lot. Just nature, skin on skin contact and a relaxing play of temperature.

“I think I just touched a frog with my foot. Ew yeah, it’s moving, princess help”, Yoongi says and suddenly you get shaken around as he begins flailing under the water.

You break away from him, laughing loudly. It echoes through the forest, joining Yoongi’s disgusted screeches. 

“I hate it, princess it touched my toe that was so yucky”, he whines, “I think it’s still there. Princess, take it away please.”

“God you fucking baby, come here”, you laugh, pulling him close so you could pick him up. 

“Yah let me down”, he whines, wiggling in your arms.

“No, the frogs. They’re coming for you”, you joke, laughing loudly when Yoongi sends you a look. 

“Come on doofus, wanna swim further out?”

“Yeah, lets do it, come on”, he pushes you gently, “I don’t wanna touch frogs again.”

“You won’t”, you say, snickering. You turn so you are facing the lake and then swim off. Yoongi follows you, using only his arms to move forward.

“Can I still touch the ground? Can you check?” he asks, looking down nervously.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes”, he insists, “please”, he adds pleadingly.

“Okay, okay I’ll check”, you say and stretch your legs to the floor. Nothing touches you, “it’s safe.”

He extends his legs carefully. Nothing touches his feet. He sighs in relief.

“Good, thanks for checking.”

“Of course”, you snicker and continue to lead the way.

You and he swim next to each with some distance to give your limbs enough space to move. 

The lake isn’t the biggest, so swimming to the middle of it should only take you a minute. If you were alone, you would manage in under a minute, but Yoongi seems to be a slow swimmer. You glance at him. A careful one as well. He looks nervous, sneaking glances at the water with furrowed brows.

“Are you okay?” 

“Why are you asking?”

“You look nervous.”

“It’s fine, I just don’t trust lakes.”

“It’s safe, don’t worry. I took countless swims in it when I was a child.”

“I guess”, he glances again, “nothing can touch my feet, right?”

“No. The lake’s deeper than you might think.”

“D-deep? How deep?” he gasps, widening his eyes.

“Like thirty meters? In the middle at least.”

“Thirty?!” he blurts out so loudly that his voice bounces off the trees, “are you serious?” 

“Yeah, around that I would say. Don’t worry, nothing can touch your feet.”

“I guess”, he glances again, “that’s so fucking deep though. Do you know what’s down there?”

“Fish probably?”

“Big fish?” 

“Maybe? I never dove down there, so I can’t say.”

“Okay, yeah that’s fine”, he says even if his eyes don’t mean it.

You and he reached the middle. You are floating in the water and while you are relaxed in your movements, Yoongi seems to kick the water almost nervously. He also keeps glancing down.

“Are you okay? Honest answers only.”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you scared of lakes?”

“No?” he very obviously lies, “I just don’t think it’s safe to be here. What if something bites our toes?” 

You laugh, “nothing is gonna bite our toes.”

“You don’t know that. It’s way too deep”, he says and looks down at the darkness. He begins kicking the water harder, pulling a face of disgust. His arms begin flailing under the water as well.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I don’t know about that. Princess, this isn’t safe. I’m telling you.”

“Yes it is, trust me”, you assure him, “did you guys never take a swim in lakes in the past?” 

“We did, doesn’t mean I liked it.”

You chuckle, “the way you’re acting makes me think that you hate swimming.”

“I do, I hate swimming.” 

“Wait. Really? Is there a reason for it?”

“I guess, I don’t know. I almost drowned as a child, I think it kinda manifested itself.” 

“Woah, really? Holy moly Yoongi, this must have been so traumatic. Why didn’t you say so sooner? Should we leave?” 

“No, it’s okay. I’m having fun “

“Are you sure? You look nervous.”

“I am nervous”, he says, “the water’s too deep.” 

“Come on, we’ll swim back to the shore. It’s not as deep there”, you say, turning in the water to lead the way. 

Yoongi follows you gladly, looking over his shoulder at the scary middle. 

“It’s only around ten meters here and then gets gradually shallower. Good thing that I didn’t tell you that there’s kind of an underwater cliff in the middle which is why it’s so deep all of a sudden.”

“Yeah, very good thing you didn’t”, he says loudly, gawking at you with big eyes, “why would you tell me that? I’m literally gonna shit in the water, no joke.”

You laugh, “please warn me if you do, so I can flee.”

He rolls his eyes at you, “very funny.”

“Sorry”, you apologise and reach out to caress his arm, “is your fear strong? I bet it must be. Almost drowning is so scary.”

“It’s okay, I just wouldn’t go swimming on my own”, he says and looks out at the water, “it’s weird. Why did I remember this all of a sudden?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I had already forgotten about that event, so why did I suddenly remember it?”

“Maybe it’s because our conversation just naturally went there.” 

“Yeah, I guess”, he murmurs and drifts off. It is obvious in how his eyes space out and how he begins gnawing on his lower lip.

“Do you want to tell me more?” you ask in hopes of making it easier for him to talk.

“Sorry, I was just thinking”, he says and glances at you.

“It’s okay. I’m here to listen if you need it.”

His eyes soften. He swims closer and kisses your cheek. He stays close afterwards, studying your face. You and he stopped, now floating in the water. He isn’t kicking it nervously anymore, looking a lot safer here than he did in the middle of the lake. 

“I had a brother. He was older than me and in the winters we always had snowball fights.”

“Really? Gosh, this sounds lovely.” 

“Yeah, I guess it was fun. He was a bully. He always chased me around and rubbed snow into my face. I was smaller than him, so it was easy for him to pin me down.” 

“Noo, I’m sorry”, you say and snicker, “that’s such an older brother thing to do.”

“Yeah it really is”, he agrees and smiles softly, “I just now remembered when I remembered it again. It was during the time we had the snowball fight in my memories. Up until this moment I had forgotten that I had a brother.” 

“You did?”

He nods his head, “something about you makes me remember my human days. I don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re happy with me and finally have a chance to think about other things than supernatural conflicts?” you start off confident but then get shy, “I hope, I don’t know, maybe you’re happy?” 

“Of course I’m happy”, he says, kissing your lips. He nudges your nose with his as he pulls back, giving you a warm eye smile, “my princess love.” 

You smile shyly, wiggling in the water happily, “yay, I’m happy. I sounded so cocky at first.”

“No you didn’t. Take the credit. You make my life worthwhile as fuck”, he says, making you giggle.

He kisses your cheek, “would you be mad at me if I wanna leave though? I’m so cold.”

“No, we can leave. I’m getting a little chilly as well.” 

So you and he begin your journey back to shore, swimming next to each other with enough distance not to accidentally kick the other underwater.

“Do you have siblings?” Yoongi asks.

“Right, we never even talked about that yet.”

“No, we didn’t.”

“No, I don’t have siblings, but I have a cousin who I grew up with very close. I still talk to him these days.”

“You do? What’s his name?” 

“Eren. He’s two years older than me and lives in Sydney. That’s why we rarely see each other.”

“Eren is a nice name. Your family has pretty names for their children. I think your name is beautiful as well.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you, my love. This just made my heart race.” 

“Yeah well, it’s the truth”, he says matter of factly and continues, “so Eren, does he have family?”

“Yeah, a wife and two daughters. They were really busy in their early twenties”, you say and laugh.

Yoongi chuckles, “two daughters. That’s nice. If I had ever become a father, I would have loved to have daughters. Two of them, so they wouldn’t have been lonely.”

“Being a girl dad fits you.”

“It does?”

“Yeah, you’re gentle and warm hearted. Your daughters would have grown up with a safe father and definitely one who would have spoiled them way too much.”

“Oh yeah, that’s true”, he agrees in a chuckle, “and one who would have been way too scared for their safety. I probably would be the kinda dad that goes no it’s too dangerous to climb and then it’s something like a small stump.”

You laugh, “yeah that’s so true. You’d be way too overly careful and I’d have to tell you to calm down because they’ll be fine.”

Yoongi doesn’t laugh. Which makes you worry. You glanced at him. He is staring at you with widened eyes.

“What? I’m sorry, was that too mean?”

“You would have told me?” 

“Yeah? Sorry, why was that wrong to say?” 

“You”, he says.

“I don’t get it.”

He closes the distance and pulls you into his arms so he could kiss you. You gasp in surprise, finding no time to even close your eyes before he has already broken the kiss. He seems to be able to stand because he is currently carrying you in his arm, smiling up at you.

“Yeah, I’d have loved a family with you.”

“What?” you gasp, feeling your heart speed up unbearably.

“You didn’t even notice that you made yourself the mom of my hypothetical daughters did you?”

“Oh”, you hide away in his cheek, “oh god, I did that? Sorry, that’s so embarrassing.”

“No it’s not”, he assures you, turning his head so he could kiss the tip of your nose, “my love.”

“I guess I just really liked the thought of having daughters with you. You’d be such a good dad. Way too cautious, but I love that about you as well.”

“Mhm, you’d be the best mom as well. You dedicate your all when you love, so our daughters would have been so loved. And they’d have probably inherited our magic, so we could have taught them together. We could have taught them how to care for nature and how to use their magic for good and I’d have called you my three witch girls.”

“God Yoongi stop”, you snicker, “I don’t even wanna be pregnant, but when you talk like this Imma want you to knock me up”, you say and hide away in his neck.

He chuckles, “yeah, Imma want to knock you up too if we talk like this”, he confesses, bouncing you in his arm, “that is if my balls don’t fall off first. I love you, but I really gotta get outta that water now. My nipples might fall off too.”

“God, way to ruin the moment, you cold doofus”, you snicker, giving his neck a little bite as revenge. 

“Mhm, yeah”, he agrees and begins walking. He carries you until you and he are out of the water far enough that your butts are exposed. Then he lets you slide down his body slowly, setting you down carefully. 

“Do we even have towels?” he asks.

“Of course we do. I planned ahead”, you say, looking at the ground in order not to step on something sharp.

“Mhm, good.” 

You bend down and open the basket, retreating two towels. You turn and hand Yoongi the bigger one. He thanks you and begins drying himself off. You do the same, having your back turned to him because you don’t want to show him how you dry between your legs. Yoongi doesn’t mind because he feels shy about it himself, wrapping the towel tightly around his shoulders once he is done. 

You sit down on the blanket with a sigh. The towel is wrapped around your chest, keeping you covered that way. Yoongi sits down next to you, draping his arm behind your back. He steals a kiss from you, grinning at you afterwards. 

“The swim was nice”, he says, lowering his head so he could trail kisses up and down your exposed shoulder. He incorporates little nose touches every now and then, lulling you into a state of comfortable tingles.

“Yeah, it was nice. It wasn’t too scary for you, was it?”

“No, except for the frog.”

You laugh, “right, the frog.” 

He shudders, “it was rancid.”

“I can imagine”, you say and snicker, reaching up to play with his hair. You play around for a bit before finally scratching him behind his ear. 

Yoongi’s instinct is to purr, but it comes out as a really deep, human sound of comfort. He chuckles, resting his cheek on your shoulder.

“I wanted to purr.” 

“Yeah, I know. I think it still sounded like one. You’re basically a cat in every life.”

“I guess I am”, he says and laughs softly, kissing your neck before sitting up, “fuck so stupid”, he murmurs, shaking his head fondly.

“No, it’s cute”, you say and lie down, looking up at the trees above your heads.

He keeps seated for now, looking at you. 

“What are we gonna do now?” you ask him.

“I don’t know. Sit around and do nothing?” he suggests.

“I like this idea. We could sort the wood later.”

“Mhm okay”, Yoongi agrees and lifts his eyes to let them race over the view. The lake, the forest, the wood piles and even more forest. 

“Did you sleep well today?” you ask him.

“I did. You?”

“Yeah me too.”

“Mhm, that’s good”, Yoongi hums and get on all fours, reaching for his clothes.

You glance at him, “what are you doing?”

“Getting dressed. Don’t look.”

“I won’t”, you promise and close your eyes. You feel no rush getting dressed, relaxing in the warm air as the faint sounds of Yoongi putting his clothes back on fill your ears.

Yoongi lets you know that you could look again by cradling your cheek and kissing your lips. You chuckle, opening your eyes. He is resting on his side, propped up on one elbow and with his arm draped around your chest. From what you can see, he put on his tanktop and jeans, but left the zipper open. It’s a sexy look because somehow the tanktop has slipped up his stomach far enough that you get glimpses of his happy trail.

You meet his eyes. The adoration is so obvious in them.

“What if we make it reality?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if we have a family?”

You widen your eyes in surprise, holding your breath.

“We’ll buy a house somewhere, just big enough for four and with a big garden all around it. We’ll fill it with plants and flowers and we’ll renovate the house until it’s perfect”

“That sounds nice.”

“Yeah and then I’ll take the cure. I’ll become human again and I can give you children. What do you say?”

“Yoongi this is…this is a really big conversation to have right now.”

“I know. I know, I’m sorry. First we gotta teach you control and then try to make the cure work. We still have other things to worry about.”

“We can have this conversation again, you know? I just don’t have a good enough answer yet.”

“I know. I understand, I really do. I just got lost in my daydreaming.” 

“That’s okay. I liked this daydream as well. Especially the part with the little house with the garden.” 

“Yeah, I guess. Yeah.”

You sit up, “talk to me, my love”, you say, caressing his thigh gently.

He hesitates for a moment, but gives in when you kiss his shoulder, resting your cheek against it afterwards.

“Am I stealing you of something you really want?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want children?”

“Oh.”

“Sorry”, he breaks eye contact, “I know this is another big fucking question to ask. I was just, I don’t know, it’s fucking stupid. Forget it.”

“No, tell me. It’s okay. I think a couple should have this conversation at some point.”

“Yeah, I guess”, he gnaws on his lower lip for a while, then speaks again, “I feel like I’m stealing you of something ‘cause I can’t give you children. You know?”

You shake your head, “I don’t feel this way. I never really dreamt of being pregnant, so I don’t think that I’m missing out on anything.”

“I just don’t want you to be unhappy with me. I can’t give you children with my cursed body, it’s so fucking infuriating.”

“Hey, my love”, you gasp, cupping his cheek to turn his head to you, “don’t talk like this again. I thought you didn’t want to take the cure anymore. Where is all this mortality talk coming from again?”

“I don’t know”, he whispers, looking helpless.

“Is the cure still important to you, my love? Honest answers only.”

“I don’t know”, he is shying away and so you give him his space.

“That’s okay. You know what? I’ll just get dressed real quick and if we still feel like talking afterwards, we can do that. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

You try not to rush because it gives both of you a chance to sort through your thoughts. You never dreamt of being pregnant. You also never wanted it. Perhaps you played with the thought of having children one day because you always loved the thought of taking care of someone, but you were also aware that “loving the thought of children” was not enough to make someone a good mother. You were “a thought” to your parents and it was you, innocent and needing of care like any child does, who carried the consequences of it. You never want a child to feel this way. And while you still liked the thought of children, you also knew that this wasn’t enough.

You fix the strap of your dress, looking at Yoongi. You are dressed. The conversation can continue or naturally die down. Both options are okay for you because you want both parties to be ready for it. You and Yoongi will have chances again if he doesn’t feel ready anymore.

“Do you still want to talk about it?” you ask him.

He touches the side of his neck, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For panicking like this. I’m sorry, the talk in the water made my fucking thoughts race because you made yourself mother of my children and I got scared that I’m the reason you can’t have children one day. And, and that you’ll start to be unhappy and then you’ll start hating me because I’ll be the reason why you can’t have children.”

“No my love, you aren’t”, you assure him, “I told you that I don’t want to get pregnant and I really meant it. You don’t need to feel as if you’re stealing something from me. The one thing, I want most in life is to be with you.”

He smiles shyly, “I want this too”, he gazes at your lips, “like nothing else.”

“Me too, my love.”

He leans closer, “can I give you a kiss?”

“Yes, you can.” 

With your consent, he leans in. You meet him in the middle. He is the one to pull back first.

“I’m sorry I said that. With the cure, I mean. I panicked, sorry. Yeah.”

“It’s okay, really”, you assure him, “I’m not angry at you.” 

“Yeah uhm, thank you for saying that”, he says and touches the side of his neck, “do you wanna see something?” he asks in hopes of changing the topic.

“Something?”

“Yeah. Uhm. Look.”

Yoongi scoots closer until your knees are almost touching. He props up one leg, resting his left arm over it. Then he lifts his right hand and snaps his fingers. 

Petals fly from his fingertips. Small and wilting. 

“Wait. One more chance, sorry I’m nervous”, he says.

“It’s okay. Don’t be nervous, you’re safe with me.”

Yoongi glances at you in shock. You give him a reassuring smile. He exhales deeply, shedding himself of so many burdens. He lowers his eyes to his hands and tries again, turning those petals into a small flower.

“Yoongi”, you gasp. 

He offers it to you.

“For you.”

“For me?” you accept it with a happy squeak, “Yoongi, you just used magic. Oh my god, my love. Wow, this flower is so pretty.”

“I’m still really rusty. Three thousand years is a long time.”

“I think you did an amazing job. Look, I got a flower. This is so amazing”, you say and giggle, “you used actual magic, my love.”

“I know. How was it? Was I cool?”

“You were the coolest, wow my love.”

Yoongi smiles fondly, running his hand up and down your thigh. His eyes lower giddily, studying your face. 

“I want to try the spell. What do I have to do?”

“Yeah? Wait, I’ll explain it to you.”

“Yes please, I’m so interested”, you say, looking at him with sparkling eyes.

“You see”, he begins, lifting his hand so you could see him move his fingers. Small pedals appear in the air above his hand, dancing around slowly with the movements of his fingers, “what I’m currently using is nature magic.” 

“Nature magic.”

“Exactly. When we speak of magic, not every magic is the same. We draw power from different elements, objects or concepts and depending on where we draw from, the magic manifests itself differently.” 

“I see. So dark magic draws power from darkness?”

“In a sense, but not really. Dark magic is everything which uses questionable power sources for its magic. Blood, pain, death. Those kind of things give you immense power, but the output will always be dark magic. You won’t really have healing results with these kind of power sources, you know?”

You nod your head, “it makes sense. If the source is bad, the result will be just as bad.”

“Exactly.”

“So nature magic is good?” 

“Obviously it depends again on what you channel. Fire will be powerful but destructive. Plants will be weaker but nurturing.”

“I see. So it’s really whatever you channel will put its essence into the magic.”

“Exactly.”

“What did you channel normally?”

“My emotions, just like you”, he says and caresses your hand, “that’s why it’s important for witches like us to learn control because emotions can be a brittle thing. Immensely powerful, but also unpredictable.”

“Because we can naturally feel both good and bad emotions. That’s why I destroy things when I’m upset and brighten a room when I’m happy. Because different emotions create different magic.”

“Yes this is correct. Wow, good job princess. You’re such a fast leaner”, he praises, making you giggle.

“Yeah, thank you heh.”

He snaps his fingers, creating another flower, “with time and control, witches will be able to channel from whatever they choose. Some like to become experts in one particular field and ignore the rest, some never really settle and are acceptable in countless fields, while others concentrate on a few until they mastered them.”

“Is there a limit to how many types you can master?” 

“Not really? But some sources are better left alone.”

“I know. I was just curious. I don’t ever want to channel stuff like pain or death.”

“Good. Please keep that in mind, princess. Those kinda sources poison you even if you’re careful. They even destroyed Nilrem in the end.”

“I know. I’m too scared to touch them. Believe me.”

“That’s my girl”, he pecks your cheek, “but to answer your question, in theory there is no limit to how many you can master. I think it’s a good idea to start off with fields that interest you, which benefit the kind of witch you want to be and which support each other. Plants and water for example. The moon and the stars is another favourite of many witches.”

“Wooah, you can channel the moon?”

“You can channel the moon, the stars, the sun and the planets. The moon works best however because of its already very strong influence on the planet.”

“That’s so amazing. I always loved the moon.”

“Yeah, the magic is very powerful and used for a lot of spells. Those spells are called night spells, because you perform them at night when the moon shines the brightest.”

“This is so interesting, wow”, you whisper, looking up at the sky, “so could you channel the sun right now? Because it’s day right now?”

Yoongi lifts his left hand. It begins glowing like a small sun would.

“Wow!” you gasp loudly, bouncing just once as excitement overtakes you.

“Pretty cool, isn’t it?” he asks just as the glow dies down again.

“That was so awesome, holy moly. Can I do that too?”

“One day, with lots of practice.”

“Wow, this is so cool”, you say and look at his right hand again. The flower petals are still dancing above his fingers, “so for this spell to work what did you channel?”

“Guess.”

“I would say plants because you created a flower.”

“Good job, that’s correct.”

You grin proudly. 

“Are you proud of me?”

“Very”, he says and kisses your cheek.

You giggle happily, feeling so good about the compliment.

“What do I have to do to make the spell work?” you ask him.

“First you have to visualize the flower in your head. Then you have to tap into your magic and feel how it connects with the magical auras of the plants around you.”

“So everything has a magical aura?”

“Yes, some stronger than others, which is why they are more powerful sources.”

“I see. So I have to visualise and then feel.”

“Exactly and when you feel the aura, you have to keep that connection going and your magic will automatically draw from it.”

“Okay, okay. So I’m gonna do it now”, you say and close your eyes. 

“Take your time. It’s difficult at first, so don’t worry if it still feels exhausting.”

You peel your eye open, glancing at him, “so it’ll get easier?”

“Of course it will. Once you’ve practiced a lot, drawing from your source will happen almost automatically. You’ll only really have to look for the connection with materials you’ve never used before.”

“Okay, okay I see”, you close your eye again, “I’m trying now.”

“Take your time.”

You don’t feel different at first. You are sitting on a blanket. Yoongi is with you. The sun is warm. The ground is hard. The water is cold, painting deep blues behind your lids.

“Huh?”

“You’re feeling the water, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Wow, it feels cold and never ending. It just flows and, and looks blue.”

“Good job, keep searching for more.”

The trees. Their aura looks like specks of green sunlight through a thick canopy. The sensation sways from side to side like trees sway in the wind.

“The trees sway.”

“Good job, you’re getting closer and closer.”

A mushroom. It’s magic flies like brown spores through the darkness. The scent of nourishing soil tickles your nose.

Suddenly a little jingle. Like that of the smallest of bells. The brown spores turn into white petals and the once muddy scent becomes floral.

“I think I’ve got it”, you say and sniffle, “wow, it smells so good.”

“Good job, you did it”, he praises, “now that you’ve tapped into the source, think of creating the flower with a snap of your finger and if you channelled your source correctly, it should appear just like it did with me.”

“Okay, okay so”, you say and snap your fingers, “hey! I did it!” you gasp and open your eyes, “oh…”

Dried, old petals lie in your palms. 

“Oh no”, you say sag your shoulders in defeat. You pout at him.

“Hey you made petals, that’s already a start. Keep doing what you did, nobody’s perfect with the first try.”

“Okay, okay”, you say and furrow your brows in concentration. You even stick your tongue out, making a little sound of hard work.

Yoongi smiles fondly, gazing at your features with soft eyes. He thinks that you are adorable when you concentrated really hard.

You snap your fingers. Petals shoot into the air like confetti.

“Wait. Again.”

Another snap of your fingers. The smallest, most delicate of flowers appears.

“Look! Yoongi, look! A flower!”

You hold it up before his eyes, bouncing on the spot in excitement.

“Good job, you did it”, Yoongi praises.

“It’s so small though”, you pout, “I wanted it to be bigger.”

“You made a flower, that’s already the first step. Try again.”

“Okay”, you say and pull your face of concentration.

Yoongi is melting. His heart is racing like crazy. He tilts his head to the side and blinks his eyes at you slowly. Look at you. Just fucking look at you.

“Woah! Look!”

Yoongi shifts his head to your hand. You are holding a blue flower between your fingers.

“A flower”, you squeak, waving it excitedly, “Yoongi, I made a flower!”

“I can see that, good job princess”, he smiles with you, “it’s such a pretty flower too.”

“Yeah, right? And look, it’s blue. Like your favourite colour.”

He meets your eyes. They are glowing in happiness. His heart flutters.

“It’s for you”, you whisper, “can I put it in your hair?”

“Yeah”, he whispers, holding his breath as you lean closer to put the flower in his hair. He looks at your face with parted lips, feeling his heart almost give up in his chest.

You tug a strand of hair behind his ear as well, running the back of your hand down his cheek last. 

“There we go, now you’re pretty.”

Your eyes meet. Yoongi is blushing. Even more than he does in the real world. 

You giggle and steal a kiss, nudging him with your nose afterwards. Yoongi lets out a quiet chuckle, rubbing his nose against yours gently. He cups your cheek with his right hand and slides his left hand to the back of your head. He pushes you down onto the blanket for another kiss, knocking a sigh of his name out of you.

Here you are. Kissing instead of practicing magic. You smile into the kiss, hooking your arms behind his head. This isn’t the worst situation to be in. As a matter of fact, it is the loveliest of lovely situations to find yourselves in. He is between your legs, he is so warm and soft and comfortably heavy. You can feel his tummy against yours, his middle melted with yours and his heart sync with yours. You and he are so perfectly one right now and it’s the best thing to be.

The kiss only breaks because humans need to breathe. How annoying indeed.

Yoongi caresses your cheek with the tip of his nose, having his eyes closed. You have your eyes closed as well, playing with his hair slowly. It feels so soft between your fingers. So, so soft.

“I’m happy”, he confesses in a barely there whisper.

“I’m happy too, my love.” 

“I feel so young.”

You fix the position of your head and open your eyes so you could look at him, “you do? What does that mean?”

He lifts his head, looking at you as he talks. His thumbs caress your cheeks.

“I feel so human. I guess because I am, but this takes me back to my days as a magic student.”

“Yeah? Did you also lay under trees and practice magic?”

“I did, but not like this.”

“Not like this?”

“Not with the most beautiful woman by my side”, he rolls to his tummy and props himself up on his elbows, “not with the love of my life”, he adds and kisses your lips.

Your heart flutters like crazy and Yoongi’s does too. It flutters even more when you gaze at each other after the kiss. 

“Were you ever in love as a human?” you ask him.

“Not like I am with you. I had a love affair with a girl from my village, but I didn’t love her like I love you.”

“Did you ever love someone like you love me?”

“Of course I didn’t”, he says as his eyes race between yours, “why are you asking that? Do you doubt my feelings for you?”

“No, of course not, I was just wondering. Three thousand years is a really long time.”

“I didn’t feel like I deserved to love or to be loved in return, so I never really tried looking for it.”

“I see. I’m sorry you had to feel this way. I hope you know that you deserve love and that you always did.”

He lowers his eyes shyly, nodding his head slowly.

“Good”, you say and ruffle his hair gently, “maybe I can be glad that you decided to be a loner. Means I had a chance with you.”

He laughs. You laugh with him. The mood has been lifted again.

“I guess yeah”, he says, giving your cheek a little pinch.

You scrunch your nose, feeling really happy. You love when he laughs. He is so pretty doing it. You reach up and trace his cheek most tenderly. Yoongi studies your features shyly.

“I think you and I would have been lovers at school”, you say.

“What do you mean?”

“If I was born back then and we went to Nilrem’s school together, we would have been school sweethearts. I think we would have practiced spells together just like we do right now.”

Yoongi smiles and kisses your cheek.

“Yes, we’d have done that.”

“Who do you think would have fallen first?”

“Probably me”, Yoongi says, “I’m too weak for you”, he adds in a breathy laugh.

“No, Yoongi”, you get out, “you are so sweet. I thought you would say me because I’m a hopeless romantic, but this is so much sweeter. You really would have fallen first?”

“Yeah”, he says, gazing at your lips, “you’d probably have been annoyed by my daydreams and laziness.”

“You’re not lazy.”

“Back then I was. I hated studying.”

You laugh. Yoongi smiles. 

“I still do.”

“And yet we met at uni.”

“Yeah, I hated every second of it.”

You laugh, “and yet you still went. I mean, I guess it was because of Alpha needing a babysitter.”

“Yeah seriously that’s the only reason I went. Stupid brats, they’re centuries old and decided to cosplay students. That’s the last thing I’d wanna be again.”

“But if they never did, we never would have met.”

“Right. That’s the only good thing coming out of it.”

“Can you imagine how that would have been? If you guys stayed at the estate and I just lived my life as a student? We would have only been twenty minutes apart and yet would have had no idea that we existed and how we could change each other’s lives.”

“Yeah…” he looks out at the lake. His eyes race from left to right as he is clearly thinking. His lips curl into a soft smile, “you have no idea what you did”, he speaks gently, “and how you changed me. Do you have an idea what you did? Do you?”

“I don’t know.”

“I spent three millennia looking for a cure to what I am just so I could die. Three millennia my dream was to die and I hated every day, month, year which passed where I was still alive. You make me grateful for every goddamn second I can spend on this earth.”

“I do?”

“You actually make me happy that I’m immortal because it means that I have all the fucking time in the world to love you and be with you.”

“Yoongi, my love”, you whisper, feeling so utterly overtaken by emotion.

“And I’m not saying this to be cheesy or, or romantic. I’m saying this because it’s the cold, hard truth. You make me wanna fucking live, ___”, he says with trembling emotion in his voice.

You choke down the tears threatening to spill, reaching over to hold his hand.

“I know”, you choke out, “but I can’t help to think it’s really romantic too”, you add in a breathy laugh.

Yoongi laughs just as breathily, “yeah.”

You and he spill tears. They’re not of bad nature and the soft laughs escaping you are proof enough. 

“I’m happy you feel this way, my love”, you say quietly, caressing his hand.

“I’m happy too. Being happy is so, so…so”, he touches his own chest and laughs as he talks, “worthwhile. It’s so worthwhile.”

“It is. It’s so worthwhile.”

He closes the distance between you and him and hugs you. He rests his head on your shoulder and his arm around your waist. 

“I think that we’re gonna have a happy eternity”, he says. 

“Yoongi, I love you”, you get out and hug him tightly, “shit, you got me crying again. Stop being so full of love. I can’t do this anymore.”

He chuckles, swaying you softly.

“I can’t help it. I want to be soft and full of love.” 

“And you are. Oh, you are so full of love. My softest love.” 

“I like this, yeah”, he says and giggles happily as he hugs you to him.

[frozenjokes]

I’m Really Sorry About The Whole ‘Crush On My Alter Ego’ Thing, But We Could Still Totally Make This Work

Grian woke up early to a harsh alarm as he had every day since Scar’s.. confession..

The sun hadn’t even risen yet, but it probably would in an hour or two, so Grian wasted no time getting right on his morning routine. Which is to say. Doom scrolling for at least an hour before actually getting up. Though before choosing one of many social media platforms to waste his time with, he checked his texts, expecting to find a meme or work schedule change from Cub, and instead:

Good morning sunshine👊👊👊👊👊!!! ❤️ Time to get ready for another day of stopping crime and KICKING ASS👉👊👊‼️⚡️⚡️⭐️✨✨💥💥💥💥 I would say I hope you slept well.. but I KNOW you did and that your going to have a certifiably SLAY DAY⭐️💥⭐️💥⚡️⚡️⚡️ I just wanted YOU to know that your killing it (👊👊👊👊👊👊) and you’re awesome and very cute😳 like cUtEgUy you know and everyone loves you❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️Me included!! Can’t wait to see you today🫵🫵👊👊🫡💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥 *dhoots arrow* HOTGUY

It went on for quite a bit longer, but Grian had seen enough actually, and consequently was no longer inclined to stay awake. This would be a problem for future Grian.

Future Grian was not very happy with past Grian when he woke up a few hours later, stumbling in his disoriented state to the kitchenette for coffee. Cub was at the kitchen table scrolling through his phone, and once Grian had the presence of mind to interrogate him, he pulled up the text, shoving his phone in Cub’s face.

“What is this. Did you have something to do with this? Did you write this for him? That’s probably something you’d do. What’s your prerogative here?”

Cub took a long moment to read, a small smile creeping across his face before outright laughing, “Oh, this is great.” Cub gently took Grian’s phone to keep reading, adjusting his glasses, “It just keeps going. How long do you think he spent typing this?”

“I don’t know! I don’t care! What the hell am I supposed to do? Why is he even texting me in the first place?”

“I’m failing to see how this is a big deal. He’s probably just sorry about the Micah thing and this is how he’s chosen to express that. Oh- here. ‘You don’t have to worry about seeing Micah again because I killed him. He’s gone.-‘ several explosions emojis ‘-I also tried to kill HotGuy but when I brought it up to one of my buddies who’s in with the higher ups he said No No Definitely Not Do Not Bring This Up To Anyone Else Ever For Your Own Safety so I’m feeling a little bit more insecure about my place in the world but that’s okay! I mean I know my life has always been in the hands of government doctors but I didn’t actually think through those implications until right now. You know me though, I’ll just keep doing my best! HaHa!’ Oh god. That’s a lot more text with very few emojis. Do these things not have character limits? I don’t think he’s okay actually. This just keeps going.”

“The- Okay, how am I supposed to be upset at him after you just read all that out to me? This is not fair. Can we just put that aside for later because how the fuck am I supposed to look at Scar in even remotely the same way after Micah- You can not possibly understand, Cub, I told Micah everything. We like- connected! And it was just fucking HotGuy the whole time! The guy I can’t fucking stand!”

“Out of costume I think he prefers you just call him Scar.”

“Okay. Sure. Fine. Scar fucked my brain! How can he even expect me to look at him the same way! He just let me think for all that time he was a different guy! Do you know how crazy that is? He talked shit ABOUT HIMSELF constantly! He tricked me!” Still, after a whole week to think about it, Grian couldn’t make sense of that. That he had met someone, made a real connection with a real person, but he hadn’t, not actually, because all of it was a facade. It was just Scar. But it didn’t feel like just Scar- it felt like Micah. Micah, who was just an act. Micah who he’d never see again. And maybe that hurt the most. That he’d lost someone like that. That he’d lost a friend. Someone who he thought might be able to be more than a friend.

“If it helps I think he has serious enough issues with his identity that he was not just ‘Scar but playing a character.’ Micah was a different person to him, I think.”

“Yeah.” Grian’s shoulders sagged, the idea not much of a comfort, “That. I got some idea of that. He was asking me a lot of questions about alter egos when-“ Grian cut himself off to groan loudly, “This is so stupid. This is so stupid. He needs to go directly to therapy for weeks at a time so I don’t have to see him for at least another month.”

Cub shrugged, “Maybe it would be good for you to see him. Maybe you should go in today.”

“How would this help me.” Grian glared, but Cub wasn’t looking up, still reading-

“I don’t know,” Cub said, setting Grian’s phone down on the table to return his focus to his own coffee, “I just kinda want you to.”

“Seriously.”

“I do. You’ve both been a bit of a wreck all week, maybe this’ll clear the air. And unless you plan on never speaking to Scar again, which is not practical for your work or your home life, you’re going to have to tear the bandaid off at some point. If he wants to apologize, you should let him say what he has to say at the very least. You don’t have to forgive him.”

“You- Are you in on this? I think you’re in on this.”

“I didn’t know about the text. Honestly, the majority of that message comes off as very.. in the moment. I don’t think that was planned. But he has a plan. No idea what. He wouldn’t tell me. It’ll probably be funny though.”

“So do you want this to fix me or do you want to laugh at me?”

Cub waved a hand dismissively, not looking up from his coffee. “I want to laugh at Scar.”

“Great.”

“You should go to work though.”

“I know your motives, Cub.”

Cub only shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m also just curious. I want to know what he does. Don’t you? Wouldn’t it be sad if he planned some sort of big I’m Sorry event for you and you never showed?”

“This is extremely appealing to me.”

“But then you’ll never know what it was. Or if it even happened at all.”

“Scar will text you.”

“He might not.”

Grian scoffed. “If you want to see what Scar has done so badly then you can go and see it for yourself.”

“You think security would let me in?” Cub looked a bit too excited by that idea, the kind of expression that crossed his face holding Great Intention. Always a terrifying look on Cub, and definitely not something to be encouraged lest he get himself arrested.

“I don’t know. Probably not.”

Cub deflated (a great relief), but didn’t budge on his prior sentiment. “You should go.” Grian rolled his eyes.

“Well I am going, I want to go, but I'm not trying to see any of Scar. If he wants to talk to me he can chase me down. I’m not playing into anything he has planned.”

“Oh,” Cub blinked, then looked back at his phone, “Great. My job’s done then.”

“You are in on this!”

“I maintain my innocence. Hope it’s a good day though.”

“It won’t be.”

“If you say so.”

Grian rolled his eyes, taking his coffee off the maker and heading back to his room. He dressed in his underclothes, grabbed his bag, then headed out with a passing goodbye. Cub’s focus was elsewhere anyway, getting ready for his own work. One day Cub would be able to quit that damn job. Now that Grian had he means, he was going to make sure of it.

…

With the ample warning, Grian made sure to steer completely clear of his and Scar’s offices. He intended on lingering here as little as possible, only dropping in to change and collect a radio.

Apparently Scar had anticipated this.

“Well hello there!”

Grian didn’t catch more than a glance of him before slamming the public office door closed, but had to open it again seconds later because what the fuck was Scar wearing.

Scar had laid himself out over the center desk, dressed head to toe in the most garishly abhorrent green crop top, booty shorts, and sparkly jewelry Grian had ever seen all on top of his uniform. ‘IM SORRY’ was written across the chest in neon pink fabric marker chicken scratch, a miserable failure at matching CuteGuy’s colors. The entire outfit clashed so horribly that Grian couldn’t help but stare, for a moment too long apparently because Scar took this as an invitation to continue speaking.

“CuteGuy! I had a rose for you, but you took your sweet ass time getting here and I got bored, so I ate it instead. You know how there’s rose flavored candy and shit? Does not taste like the flower. Would not recommend. Actually!” Scar rolled over onto his stomach, kicking his legs, and Grian choked on a snort when he saw the text across Scar’s ass said ‘WHORE.’ “I was trying to spit it out, you know, and I’m pretty sure my saliva is purple now. It turned my water purple. I might have poisoned myself.”

Grian found himself stuck between bafflement and a laugh, but he refused to show Scar he was any amount amused by this display, his voice stilted in suppression when he finally spoke. “Give me. A radio.”

“Sure thing!” Scar plucked one off the dock, spinning it in his fingers before tossing it across the room. Grian caught it, turning on his heel to leave. “Hey! Where are you going?”

Grian didn’t feel the need to answer, shutting the door behind himself as he went, but it wasn’t long because he heard the tip-taps of Scar’s boots behind him, not running, but certainly trying his best to catch up.

“Did you see my message this morning?”

“I saw it.”

“Did you see the part where I asked to take you to lunch?”

“No.”

“Do you want to go to lunch then? Later, obviously. You don’t even have to go with me!”

Grian scoffed through a chuckle, rolling his eyes. Ridiculous. “No thanks.”

“I thought so. That’s okay! Maybe another time! I’m going to go now, but it was nice to see you, CuteGuy!”

Grian frowned, not responding or turning around. If Scar wanted to dress like an idiot, that was his prerogative. Grian wasn’t going to be the one to stop him. He had actual work to be doing.

…

Grian liked how often he got to fly in this line of work. CuteGuy the villain didn’t fly anywhere; he laid low, he scouted the streets from roofs of buildings, he stuck to the shadows. ‘Grian’ didn’t fly much either, not without a reason. Sometimes he’d fly just like anyone would go for a walk, but he liked doing something, he liked having places to go. As much as he loathed superhero culture- and the whole damn city for that matter- he loved this.

It wasn’t unusual for a crowd to gather at the scene of a fight or crime, but maybe Grian should have known that a crowd this large, this dense, was a red flag. It had been a couple hours since he’d set off into the city, so his guard was down, he was in the zone. He had just assumed someone was hurt. That people were trying to help or panicking. Clearing the crowd revealed otherwise.

Scar was laying on the sidewalk, still wearing his clashing clothes, signing a book from a fan before shooing them away while looking distinctly like the two of them were in on some sort of inside joke. He.. didn’t have his legs.

“CuteGuy!” Scar swooned, drawing a gloved hand across his forehead, “I have fallen and I can not get up! I need a handsome and capable superhero to assist me!”

Grian cringed, but despite the majority of people having backed up, no one seemed to actually have left, encircling the both of them in a tight barrier. Scar knew plenty well how their fans felt about the two of them, (Grian had stumbled upon some.. choice pieces of fanart before) and he’d never miss an opportunity to tease under the scrutiny of eager eyes. Though, there was something beautifully normal about that; the teasing, the invitation of banter. The kind of normalcy you long for, even when things aren’t well. (Even when Micah was never real, even after you lost a friend.)

“You’re plenty capable. This is a severe waste of my time.” Grian flapped his wings, not intending on leaving, just needing more space from the onlookers.

Scar watched him carefully, delight dancing across his face when he realized that Grian was going to stay. “Well of course, of course, but going all that distance walking on my hands? No no, I don’t think so! I don’t even want to think about the kinds of calluses I’d get! And it would take hours.”

“Serves you right. Did you make sure that call only wired to me?” Grian huffed, making a grand show of his annoyance since Scar couldn’t see the roll of his eyes. And.. well.. he couldn’t quite help himself with the crowd. Everyone gets a kick out of dramatics sometimes. “Where’d your legs run off to anyway?”

“Oh! Funny story! The Goat took them.”

“You paid him to do that?”

“That would have been a really good idea! But no. He just happened to see me, and after laughing at me for like ten minutes he said ‘iF yOu aRen’t uSinG thEsE tHen I wiLL’ like he does, you know him. It was a little ominous actually. I’m a bit worried. My doctors are going to be pissed when they find out, so personally, I would rather be delivering this news with legs in hand.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah. It’s not ideal. If it wasn’t already clear, I’m going to need help getting them back.”

“I hope you know how unbelievably a ‘you problem’ this is because I am not helping. Good luck hunting him down. First I’d recommend calling someone to bring you your chair.”

“No!” Scar jolted upright, proving just how capable he was of not laying pathetically on the concrete, “I want you! Look, look at me. Listen. Close your eyes.”

Grian made a face, scoffing to hide the hint of amusement that was threatening to show in his expression. “Do you want me to look at you or do you want me to close my eyes.”

“Listen. Imagine. HotGuy and CuteGuy: Dynamic Duo-!”

“This sounds awful.”

“-I’m up on your shoulders, we’re infiltrating The Goat’s home base together! You’re punching bad guys and I’m shooting my bow from above-“

“And how do you think you’re going to hang on, huh?” Grian interrupted, tapping his foot.

“Obviously I’d-“ Scar moved, seeming to realize too late he didn’t have the legs he was planning on using. This did not deter him, a sharp smirk splitting his smile, “Velcro!”

Grian snorted despite himself, “Yeah. That’d be perfect, wouldn’t it. I foresee zero issues.” With a great irritation that gripped him out of nowhere, Grian was suddenly aware of other voices, the crowd, speaking loudly amongst themselves. Someone started to chant his name. Another chanted ‘Velcro!’ That caught on much faster. Grian flapped his wings far more aggressively when the crowd began to close in, hitting civilians out of his personal bubble, but this didn’t seem to be very effective, anxiety crawling under his skin as the attention started to be too much. Scar seemed to notice, but despite his efforts to control the onlookers, they were too rowdy, too caught up in their excitement to listen.

“Goodbye.” Grian hissed, straining to be heard, and Scar half-shrugged, a possible attempt at apology.

“So that’s a no, then? You’ll fetch my legs at least, will you?”

“No.” Grian beat his wings hard, forcing civilians out of his way and prepping to take off.

“Oh! Okay! Have a nice day then!”

Grian was gone before he could hear another word, before any other body could brush the backs of his wings. Anger painfully out of proportion boiled in his stomach, spilling out and staining the rest of his insides in its pulsing fire. He wasn’t angry at Scar. Well. He could certainly blame Scar, luring him around and speaking like that, stoking the fire of fans who adored the both of them, but Grian hadn’t minded the show, he hadn’t even cared all too much that he’d been tricked, not when the resulting interaction felt so.. normal. He liked an act. He liked being CuteGuy. So why was he so upset? And maybe that was it. He was just angry for no reason, and that made him angrier, because despite everything, despite trying so damn hard, he was still broken.

He could punch someone about it. He wanted to punch someone about it. Cub wouldn’t want him to.

So he flew instead. Flew like he liked, fast and far and high until the air was too thin, then let himself fall, playing games with his life as he hurtled through the sky before catching himself under spread wings and doing all of it over again. Eventually he got tired. Eventually he had to stop. But the aftermath of a senseless episode still buzzed under his skin, nearly as unpleasant as the burn that caused it. Grian could feel it. He could feel it under his skin. He wanted to tear it out. He wanted to fly, exhaust himself until he couldn’t feel anything at all, but he was too tired, so instead he found himself gliding to Cub’s workplace. He didn’t know where else to go.

“CuteGuy-“ Cub’s manager was frightened by his sudden entrance, stumbling through the front door aggressively enough to rattle the attached bell into senseless noise.

“Hello Diane.”

“How do-“ but Grian cut her off with a frustrated groan, not caring to listen as he dragged himself to the back. Cub looked even more startled to see him than his manager did, though surprise quickly melted into concern when Grian collapsed into a pile of cardboard boxes. He grunted. They were not as soft as they looked.

“Ah CuteGuy, friend of HotGuy who I am friends with and know for this reason- it’s fine Diane, it’s fine, let me just- I can handle it.” Grian heard the soft arguing from the doorway, but didn’t care to say anything. He didn’t care to think. He just wanted to be better.

Eventually the door closed.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Cub’s hand flew to his shoulder and Grian viscerally cringed, lips parting in silent discomfort until the hand was swiftly drawn back, “I’m sorry. Do you need me to call an ambulance? Are you okay? You’re not okay.”

“I’m not hurt,” Grian mumbled, narrowing his eyes against Cub’s panicked expression in his peripherie. “Angry. Stupid.”

Cub jolted in his recognition, gears shifting immediately. “Scar, then. Was it Scar? I mean, I can’t say I haven’t been keeping tabs on the news- social media, the like. I’ve seen more than a few videos- people are going kinda nuts over nothing in my opinion but- It was too much. I’ll tell Scar to stop bugging you, he’ll stop.”

“It’s not Scar. I don’t care about Scar.”

Cub made a bit of a face, enough for Grian to tell he wasn’t so sure about that, but Cub didn’t voice the thought, instead asking, “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. Nothing.”

“Is- I’m struggling a little with the tone, man.”

“I don’t know! I was fine, I was kinda having fun and then I just wasn’t and out of nowhere everything just sucked and I was so mad and that’s not supposed to happen to me! Nothing happened and I wanted to rip out my hair and punch things and I didn’t, but now I just feel stupid! Why is my brain so fucking dumb.”

Grian let his head drop, face down in a pile of cardboard, but Cub didn’t move, intense in his silence. Eventually he sat down, right on the floor. “I need to break these down anyway,” he hummed, almost subconsciously as he leaned to grab something off his desk. The next couple minutes were filled with the sound of a boxcutter against tape and cardboard. It wasn’t awful.

“Do you want to know what I think?” Cub asked, not much more than a whisper. Not like he was sad or anything either, just focused on the task at hand.

“Okay,” Grian mumbled, the word coming out entirely indecipherable as anything but a noise of assent.

“I think you were nervous this morning. I think maybe you had an alright day, but got overwhelmed near the end. You can be having a good time and still get overwhelmed. There were a lot of people around you from what I could tell; it looked kinda claustrophobic.”

“But I didn’t- I didn’t care. It was like a switch in my brain just flipped! No build up!”

“Sometimes that’s how it happens. Sometimes there is build up and you just don’t notice until it’s too late. It’s not always so simply defined. There’s not always a reason. And there doesn’t have to be. You’re not regressing because you had a bad day, Grian. You’re not stupid.”

“I feel awful.”

Out of the corner of Grian’s eye, he saw Cub nod. “Yeah. I get it.” Cub continued with the boxes and Grian didn’t speak, only shuffling a little to grant easier access to the few he was laying on. But Cub stopped almost abruptly after breaking down one box, the room blanketed in a meaningful silence. “Have I told you yet? How damn proud of you I am?”

The question jolted Grian out of his daze. He didn’t know what to say. How to respond. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Of course you have. You’ve been dealt a pretty shitty hand of cards, but you haven’t stopped working with them. You haven’t given up. And you have your moments, you have bad weeks, bad months, but you still pick yourself back up at the end of today. I think you’ve grown. I don’t think Grian from a couple months ago would have walked away from the crowd and taken his anger somewhere better. I don’t think Grian from a couple months ago would have come to me. I respect you, Grian. You’ve come so damn far. I’m proud of you.”

Grian shook his head. “I haven’t done anything. It’s all you. I don’t pick myself up at all, you’re just pushing me back on my feet.”

“I haven’t known a single person that overcomes any of these kinds of challenges without support. That doesn’t make you any less capable, Grian. You’re still standing on your own two feet. I am proud of you.”

Discomfort burned in Grian’s chest. Cub didn’t get it. He didn’t understand. “It’s all for you. I’m only here because of you.”

“Having a strong motivator doesn’t discount all the hard work you’ve put in for yourself. You want to be better, Grian. You give your blood, sweat, and tears to make it happen. I’m not just dragging you along. You go to therapy and work your ass off. You keep track of your meds. You make the decision to walk away when all of you wants to haul off and kick someone’s shit in. You do it. You. And maybe most impressively, every time you fail, get arrested, relapse into old behavior, you peel yourself right off the concrete and try again. And there’s nothing harder than that. So that’s why I’m proud. That’s why I will always be proud. You’re a good man, Grian. You’re good.”

Grian didn’t know what to do with that. A soft chill rippled through his form, shaking him in his entirety despite its gentle nature. All of him felt so heavy. His lungs were full of lead.

“Can I have a hug?” A meek question, but he didn’t care.

“Of course.”

Cub’s touch sent another wave of coolness riding through his veins, contracting his muscles, making him sick and heavy and limp. And then, slowly, a steady march that began in his chest and spread outward; warmth. A soft, perfect warmth. The kind of love that could make anyone believe they were something to be proud of.

[amourtoken]

someone requested some iv content so here's some lil blurby stuff cause I cannot create a full length fic for the life of me lol I'm sorry bb. This isn't structured rlly it's just a collection of my random thoughts off the dome while thinking abt him so lmk if you want me to elaborate on anything.

*nsfw below the cut, MDNI*

cw: petplay, sex toys, raw sex (pls wrap that shit), mentions of choking, breeding, subspace, phone sex, mirror sex, threesomes, DP, oral

◇ he's so-

◇ when you first got together, iv was much more reserved but as the group gained some traction and more opportunities presented themselves the the boys, he can't help himself he let the fame get a *little* to his head. He's become much more outgoing in many ways and he knowssss he's fine at this point. He will use this fact against you cause he knows how easy it is to melt you from the inside out so you're a pliant little toy in his hands.

◇ he's always been so sweet to you. Constantly bringing you flowers with sweet notes or forcefully making time in his schedule so he can see his sweet girl and give her the attention she deserves. He knows it could be tough being with someone who has to keep their personal life on the low but he makes up for it 100%.

◇ he swears up and down he's not *trying* to come off this way but he's tiptoeing the line of being your sugar daddy lol. If you so much as even mention something you want in passing, it's in your hands within the next day at most. After a little, this extended from things *you* said you wanted, to things *he* wants to give you. This includes the sluttiest lingerie you've ever laid eyes on, jewelry with his name on it, and countless sex toys he pleads for you to use on camera so he can rewatch while he's out on tour.

◇ he's head over heels for you, and absolutely *cannot* get enough. Your smell, your taste, your touch, all of it. He'd inject you into his veins if possible. Even while fucking you, one angle isn't enough. iv has strategically aligned a couple mirrors so he gets all the best views of you no matter what position he's manipulated you into and ugh it makes his head spin sometimes. You deserve to be in a museum but he can't help himself but to be a lil rough with you on occasion.

◇ knows how to get into your head and all up under your skin, on multiple occasions he's slid behind you while you're getting ready in the mirror and rested his head on your shoulder just to whisper the filthiest things imaginable in your ear. He'll wrap his arms around your waist or run his hands up and down your torso, sliding down to your thighs and tugging the hem of your dress up little by little while detailing just how pretty he think you are in it in a low voice. Sometimes he'll slide one hand up and gently squeeze your throat, leaning your head back onto his shoulder while he's touching you. He makes a whole ordeal of it and most often, you end up right back in bed.

◇ he's got lots of sweet little pet names for you. Love is absolutely his favorite but sweet girl, pretty thing, sweetheart, all perfect. He's not big on degradation *however*, he did get you the prettiest engraved collar with a cute little tag reading "slut" in his handwriting.

◇ bouncing directly off that, man's into some petplay. Loves knowing you're all his and wrapped right around his finger. The physical manifestation of this is him wrapping your leash around his hand and tugging when you break eye contact while he's fucking you like he hates you (he doesn't but the way he bullies your poor insides, it sure feels like it.) He's got you a collection of pretty collars with his name on them, and adores having you sat at his feet at any given chance. He'll also literally pet you, fingers lovingly brushing your skin or running through your hair absent-mindedly but ugh it feels so fucking good, what's not to enjoy about having his hands on you? Throws you right into a comfy subspace.

◇ I think all of the ST Boys are in this boat but God if he doesn't get lightheaded at the thought of breeding you. He'll grab your hips and pull you to meet his deep thrusts while your head hangs over the edge of the bed, watching the scene from the full length mirror beside you. He gets off on the fact not only is it the *ultimate* claim on you, but thanks to his mirror fixation, he gets to watch the whole thing and know it's the exact moment he knocked you up. You're already perfect in his eyes but once you're all round and pretty, he *really* won't be able to keep his hands off of you. It'll only serve to make him more possessive as well, that's his baby carrying his actual baby, he'll be damned if anything happens to you or you're not treated like a piece of fine china.

◇ he's very possessive of you like I said, *but* if one of the other boys wanna join...he'll consider. By consider I mean he'll hold you on his lap, arms hooked under your legs and holding them open while iii eats you out like he's starved. Your head is leaned back on his shoulder and he's praising you for being so good for both of them, he'll also direct some praise to iii for treating you so well. As long as he's ultimately the one pulling the strings and directing the scene, he's in his element. Fucking you from behind while Vessel's down your throat or leaving countless dark hickeys and love bites all over your neck and chest while he and ii fill both of your holes. You're his, doesn't matter if they get a taste cause he's the one you belong to.

[deadly-halowos]

guys okay so i saw a post that offhandedly mentioned tim having an ed elric arm and now i can’t stop thinking about an fma batfam au so here’s my little ideas bc yes.

so i’ve decided that tim is ed (obviously bc that’s what started this whole thing) and duke is al (bc he’s younger, i love him, and i need more of duke and tim being brothers) others that are relevant are: alfred is granny (obviously) bernard is winry (im a sucker for emt bernard)

right now what i’ve got is that tim and duke are trying to bring back bruce after he died (bruce being the one they’re bringing back might change depending on how closely i choose to follow fmas actual story) and they use a tainted lazarus pit to do it (does tim know that it’s tainted? your guess is as good as mine. it’s tainted due to gothams inherent radioactivity and general weirdness. i’m also aware this is not how the pits work but shhh, plot reasons)

they go to set bruce's body into the pit but it goes wrong and duke ends up slipping in, tims leg slips in, and he pulls himself out and realizes that duke is gone and begs for him back, not caring about the fact that his own leg is missing.

they're in one of ra's pit rooms so there's a plot relevant suit of armor sitting near by, tim hears a voice telling him to make the seal on the armor and then tim sticks his arm into the pit to grab duke(‘s soul?) and that's how he ends up losing his arm

duke regains consciousness in the suit and sees tim aggressively bleeding out and wraps him up in his cape to staunch it until he can get back and call for alfred

the pit is in gotham still and that's why it's so tainted because of all of the radioactive shit that goes on there

duke runs to the manor as fast as he can (which is so much faster now that he can't get tired) and collapses into the kitchen sobbing for alfred to help

alfred gasps and rushes tim down to the cave to begin the surgery to save tim and has duke call bernard to get him to come to the manor and help with the surgery. they barely get though it, but tim ends up surviving. mr spleenless obviously then makes things difficult and almost dies during recovery from an infection and during his feverish haze he just keeps crying out for duke and saying that he's sorry and then going between cursing gotham for being a bastard and then praising it

tim obviously barely lets himself heal before he’s starting to design prosthetics so that he can figure out how to get dukes body back (he doesn’t care if it takes his own, he just needs duke to be safe and whole again)

he figures out the equivalent of automail and makes bernard and alfred install it on him despite them begging him to stop and realize that he’s putting himself in incredible danger, he insists and they finally give in (he almost dies again from the installation and the subsequent infection)

alfred insists that it’s going to be a long and hard recovery, but tim is determined to do it in as little time as possible, he reaches out to some of the jl members and asks for help with healing, getting the recovery time down to just under a year (even with the jls help, this seems incredibly quick. they all decide to just take it at face value because it’s a miracle)

when asked what he meant when he was talking about gotham being a bastard and then switching to praising it, tim just went a little pale and then glanced at duke and then his own arm and brushed it off with a shaky voice

im not entirely sure how to work with the alchemy and/or equivalent, duke is already a meta so i’d make sense that he can use his current abilities as well as potentially understanding how to use alchemy if i go that way.

as far as it goes with tim, i think that he has enhancements, he is a little bit stronger, he heals just a little bit faster, he’s got more stamina, etc. but he’s also got something that no one else does.

he hears gotham. not all the time, but if gotham feels like teasing him or testing him, he hears her. while in gotham it’s almost as if he knows everything that’s happening. while on one of his first patrols back after the surgery with jason and duke, he stops dead in his tracks, completely tense and when the other two notice that he’s stopped they look back and him and he just stands there for a minute before shaking his head and backing up, telling them not to go that way, that it’s not safe and they need to leave. when jason starts to tease him to ask if he’s a scaredy cat, tim just shutters and grabs jason’s arm to haul him away.

they find out the next day that a massive shootout went down, along with the building they were about to walk into collapsing completely, everyone in the building (criminals, thankfully. no civilian injuries) crushed and dead. they ask tim how he knew and he just said that he had a feeling. they learn quickly to listen to what tim says when it comes to gotham.

if i do give them alchemy i think that it’ll be a surprise to everyone.

they’re in a fight, all of them for once, an arkham breakout. tim and damian are fighting near eachother while duke is across the room fighting with dick against some of the goons. tim glances over and watches as a goon takes out a gun and aims it at duke, tim is too far away, even dick, less than 10 feet away is too far, none of them will make it in time. tim will never know why he did it, but he shouted at duke and then clapped his hands together, shoving them on the ground, surrounding duke in a concrete orb, the bullet hitting the orb instead of the neck of dukes armor (his seal, if the seal gets broken, his brother is gone) like it was aiming for. as soon as tim clapped, it was like something clicked. he finally understood, it felt balanced, it felt equivalent. tim stood up and hit the goon who dare try and take a shot at his brother with his bo staff and knocked him out. once they had taken care of the rest of the goons, he clapped again and the orb surrounding duke falling back into place as if it had never been disturbed.

after being confused for a moment, seeing the others about to question tim on what the hell was that, duke chuckles and asks why tim bothered to surround him when he wouldn’t feel it anyway, he watched tim’s face fall before tim walked over to him and rested his forehead against the cool metal of dukes armor and whispers that he’s always going to protect him, and that it doesn’t matter if he can’t feel it it would still hurt, and that he’s so sorry for putting duke in this situation and he’s going to find a way to fix it he swears.

[rynwritesreid]

This is v specific so totally get if it’s like too much pressure, but what about angst/fluff with a BAU reader. It’s her birthday, and Penelope tried to throw a little office surprise party for her after snooping through her file, not knowing she doesn’t like her birthday. Her dad died on her birthday years ago, so when everyone starts singing and all this attention’s on her she freaks out and leaves. Then Spencer goes to see what’s wrong and they spend the day together on her terms (very hurt/comfort yk?)

A/N: To everyone who has lost a dad, or any close family member/friend, I am so very sorry. Grief is a difficult process, but I do know that it does hurt less eventually, and you can talk about them without crying. I truly do love all of you guys and please feel free to reach out if you need someone to listen to you. I hope this story does bring someone comfort though.

Also, I want to give @iluvreid a lil shoutout, and if you want to follow an amazing person, follow her. She always proofreads my work, and gives me the best requests. ILY.

Summary: After Garcia, and the rest of the team, surprise you for your birthday, you're forced to face how hard this day really is for you.

Content: Hurt/Comfort (angst to a degree). Grief. A lot of talks about losing a father figure. Comforting!Spencer. Sad!reader. Fluff.

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As the last notes of "Happy Birthday" faded away, you stood frozen in place, unable to move. Everyone's eyes were fixed on you, waiting for you to make a move, and cut the cake. Garcia's face was beaming with a wide smile, clearly proud of herself for throwing this surprise party for your special day. "I had to do some snooping through your file to find out when it is," she admitted with a delighted singsong voice. 

You could feel your eyes welling up, you knew you meant to feel happy, especially knowing Garcia had put so much effort into this. But you hated your birthday, it was no longer a happy day to you. All you could imagine now was getting that call, one to inform you that your dad had sadly passed away.

Without saying a word to anyone, you run out of the building hearing Garcia, Emily, and JJ shouting after you, trying to stop you. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you sprinted down the street, the distant sounds of your friends' voices fading behind you. Tears blurred your vision as you pushed yourself to keep running, desperate to outrun the memories that threatened to consume you.

You didn't stop until you reached the park, the familiar sight offering a semblance of peace. Collapsing onto a bench, you buried your face in your hands, the sobs wracking through your body. The ache in your chest felt unbearable, the weight of grief pressing down on you like a physical force.

You hadn’t told anyone about how much you hated your birthday, and the only one who knew about your dad dying was Spencer. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you felt a presence beside you on the bench. Looking up through tear-streaked eyes, you saw Spencer standing there, concern etched in his features. He didn't say anything, just sat quietly next to you, offering his silent support.

“Everyone’s going to hate me, aren’t they Spencer.” You wanted to know, your voice barely a whisper amidst the sounds of the park. Spencer shook his head gently, his eyes filled with understanding.

"No one is going to hate you," he replied softly, his hand reaching out to give your shoulder a comforting squeeze. "We all care about you, and we just want to help."

"It's just... every year on my birthday, I can't help but remember the day I got that call about my dad," you whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper. “And I know I should have told someone, but I just couldn’t.”

Spencer listened attentively, his presence a calming balm to your raw emotions. His gaze was warm and understanding, a silent reassurance that you were not alone in your pain. The weight of unspoken grief hung heavy in the air between you, a shared moment of vulnerability that drew you closer together.

"I understand," Spencer finally spoke, his voice soft and gentle. "Losing someone you love is never easy, and it's okay to feel overwhelmed, especially on days like today."

His words offered a sense of solace, a reminder that it was alright to struggle with the memories that haunted you. You let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension begin to ease from your shoulders as you leaned into Spencer's comforting presence.

"I should have told you all," you admitted quietly, the weight of guilt settling in your chest. "I didn't mean to run out like that... I just couldn't handle it."

Spencer's expression softened even further; his eyes filled with compassion. "It's okay," he reassured you, a small, understanding smile tugging at his lips. "We all have our own ways of coping with pain, and it's alright to take the time you need to heal."

“I don't know how to face this day anymore, Spencer," Spencer's hand tightened slightly on your shoulder, offering a steadying presence. "You don't have to face it alone," he said quietly, his gaze unwavering. "We're here for you, no matter what you need. Whether it's to talk, to cry, or just to be with someone, we'll stand by you."

“Is it okay if I just spend the day with you? I’d like to do some stuff to remember my dad by if that’s okay?” your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’d be honoured to spend the day with you and remember your dad together. Just let me call Hotch first to tell him you’re okay.” Spencer dialled Hotch's number and explained the situation while you sat beside him, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude wash over you. As Hotch assured Spencer that everything was under control back at the office, Spencer turned to you with a gentle smile.

"We have all the time you need," Spencer said softly, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that resonated with your own pain. "Let's take today to honour your dad in a way that feels right to you."

“Is it okay if we go for a little drive, I always give my dad his favourite flowers and write him a letter. It makes me feel closer to him.” Spencer nodded; his expression filled with unwavering support. "Of course, let's go," he said, standing up from the bench and offering you a hand. You took it gratefully, rising to your feet as a sense of calm settled over you. The weight of your grief felt a little lighter with Spencer by your side, his quiet strength a grounding presence.

Together, you walked out of the park and towards Spencer's car. The drive was quiet, the soft hum of the engine providing a comforting background noise. You watched the world pass by in a blur, lost in your thoughts as memories of your dad flooded your mind.

When you reached the flower shop, Spencer parked the car and turned to you. "Take all the time you need," he said gently, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. You nodded, grateful for his understanding, before stepping out of the car and into the fragrant shop.

The shop was a riot of colour and scents, the vibrant blooms lining the shelves like a kaleidoscope of memories. You moved through the aisles with a sense of purpose, selecting your father's favourite flowers with care. Spencer followed quietly behind you, a silent presence of support as you gathered the blooms in your arms.

As you made your selection, you approached the counter to pay for the flowers. The florist, a kind-faced woman with gentle eyes, looked at you with understanding as she rang up your purchase. "These are beautiful choices," she remarked softly, her voice tinged with empathy.

"Thank you," you replied, offering her a small smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. The weight of grief sat heavy in your chest as you accepted the bouquet, cradling it carefully in your arms.

Stepping back out into the sunlight, you felt a mix of emotions swirling within you. The drive to the cemetery was quiet, the gentle presence of Spencer beside you offering a sense of peace. As you approached your father's resting place, the familiar sight of his gravestone brought a fresh wave of sorrow crashing over you.

You knelt down by the grave, arranging the flowers with care as tears welled in your eyes. Spencer stood a few steps behind you, giving you the space to grieve while offering his silent support. With trembling hands, you placed the bouquet at the base of the gravestone, your fingers brushing against the cold stone surface.

"I miss you, Dad," you whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse murmur. Memories of him flooded your mind – his laughter, his guidance, his unwavering love. The ache in your chest felt raw and consuming, but being here, honouring his memory with Spencer by your side, brought a sense of solace.

The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze seemed to echo the whispered words you spoke to your father's memory. Spencer moved to stand beside you, a silent sentinel as you poured your heart out. The weight of your grief felt momentarily lighter with each word you uttered, each shared memory a balm to your wounded soul.

"I wish you were here, Dad," you continued, your voice filled with longing. "I wish I could tell you how much I miss you, how much I still need you." The tears flowed freely now; tracks of sorrow etched on your cheeks as you laid bare the depth of your pain.

"I know he's watching over you," Spencer said softly, his voice a soothing murmur. "He's proud of the person you've become, and he'll always be a part of you, guiding you through the difficult moments."

Spencer's words wrapped around you like a warm embrace. “Thank you for being here with me," you whispered, your voice thick with unshed tears. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Spencer's gaze was unwavering, filled with a depth of understanding that spoke volumes. "You don't have to face this alone," he said softly, his hand reaching out to gently brush away a stray tear from your cheek. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

“Is there anything else you’d like to do today?” Spencer offered, his voice gentle and reassuring. You took a moment to consider, the weight of grief still heavy on your shoulders but somewhat lifted by Spencer's unwavering support. After a moment's pause, you looked up at him with a small smile playing on your lips.

"I would like to go to that little cafe my dad and I used to frequent," you said, a faint glimmer of nostalgia in your eyes. "It would mean a lot to me to revisit those memories today."

Spencer nodded, his expression warm and understanding. "Let's go," he replied simply, offering you his hand as you rose from where you knelt by your father's grave. The two of you made your way back to the car, the drive to the cafe filled with a comfortable silence.

The cafe was just as you remembered it - cosy and inviting, with the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. As you and Spencer settled into a corner booth, memories of shared laughter and quiet conversations with your dad flooded your mind.

"I remember how much he loved coming here," you said softly, a wistful smile tugging at your lips. "He would always order the same thing and sit by the window, watching the world go by."

"He sounds like an amazing man," Spencer replied, his voice warm with genuine interest. "I wish I could have met him."

You shared stories of your dad with Spencer, recounting cherished moments and funny anecdotes that made the weight of grief feel a little lighter.

Another A/N: If you seek help, or advice while dealing with grief, please do not be afraid to reach out to anyone/someone.

Sibling support (for those dealing with the loss of a sibling)

The good grief trust

The grief gang

Cruse-parent loss

What’s your grief-podcast

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