#neither has had a single friend for years and then they find each other again

[tired-biscuit]

okay but imagine werewolf best friend kiba who has wanted and loved you for years. who has pined and craved and fucked a pair of your underwear and chased off so many 'rivals' behind your back.

imagine going away for college and reconnecting. maybe you go camping. maybe you trigger his rut earlier because he's wanted you for so fucking long that it can't be contained. him at the entrance, unzipping it, crawling over you, waking you up with his head between your legs and begging for you to 'help him out'. for 'just the tip'

but it ends up with him knotting and breeding you and you wake up with his mark on your shoulder and he's already pawing at you again

Finding peace in the spontaneous wild (that is you)

18+ MDNI, fem!reader/werewolf!bsf!kiba

premise: when an accidental encounter with your former childhood best friend leads you to agree to a one-night camping trip consisting of just you two, you discover that there’s more to your friendship than initially meets the eye.

cw: monsterfucking (he's mostly in his human form, though), knotting, creampie, implied breeding, mounting, size difference, omegaverse themes.

college/modern AU. friends to lovers, one bed trope (kind of, they’re sharing sleeping bags in the same tent), unestablished mating bond, mutual pining, lots of bickering and misunderstandings; they get into one big fight (kiba and reader are polar opposites personality-wise and tend to agree to disagree), usage of sweetheart and bunny as pet names for reader. i think that's everything?

wc: 26.2k

find part two here!

———

You run into Kiba at the grocery store, around two weeks after returning home from college.

It’s completely coincidental; neither of you expects it to happen. You catch him standing next to the fruit section, picking the best-looking oranges out of the bunch with slightly pinched eyebrows and narrowed eyes, and before you can even ready yourself to approach him, he already beats you to it.

He blinds you with his grin despite the distance between you as you raise your hand to wave him over. A single dimple that you were already expecting appears in his right cheek. His smile is toothy and friendly; nostalgic. It throws you back to a much simpler time.

After all, you’ve known each other for years — you and Kiba go way back. Back to when your only concern had been what cartoons to watch, and the urgency to come back home well before it got dark outside was a rule set in stone. 

Back then, the world seemed to be splashed with brighter, more vibrant colours than it is now. A sugar rush was the best thing to ever happen to you before you came crashing down twice as hard, and your mother had called you downstairs for breakfast every single morning before ruffling your hair and rushing off to work. 

Now, you’re happy if you get the chance to FaceTime with her once or twice a week while you’re away at college. Your hair certainly doesn’t get ruffled anymore and you make breakfast yourself.

Even the trees in your neighborhood have changed, no longer appearing as tall as they used to be because, well, back then you were the smaller one. The sidewalk on your street was sizzling hot with summer heat, but now it's getting worse each year, and your feet aren’t bare anymore as you walk on it; no longer trekking the familiar route that would lead you to the house of the very boy, who now stands before you in the middle of the grocery store instead of leaning against the open doorway of his childhood home, impatiently waiting to pull you inside.

You used to spend nearly every single day with him. Going on adventures with your bikes — you with your helmet on, him without — until your legs were aching from pedaling so much had become a daily thing of sorts. Constantly coming up with new ways to entertain your never-satisfied, highly imaginative kid brains was a favoured pastime. Wearing scrapes of all shapes and sizes on your knees and palms like they were badges of honor was a thing to be expected. 

But that’s all gone now.

Because now, you’re both adults. Juggling jobs and degrees — well, at least one of you is, not that you’re surprised in any way that Kiba hasn’t chosen to try his hand at college — and all that other crap that consists of time-consuming responsibilities that can be quite pesky and bothersome, but make your lives easier to live nonetheless. 

It feels like an aeon has passed as a result. Like your childhood had been whisked away from you by neither of you ever realizing it until it was far too late. So, you’ve drifted apart. It tends to happen. 

Come to think of it, when was the last time you’d seen your trusted partner in crime? Three years ago? Or has it been four already? You’re unsure.

All you know is that it’s been long. Too long. College feels like it’s been nothing but a rather confusing blur, to say the least.

But so does Kiba.

And so do you.

You’ve both become utterly indecipherable in each other’s eyes. Like foggy glass on a rainy morning.

So you use a couple of moments to merely look at each other because of it; to wipe the condensation off the glass with the sleeves of your phantom sweaters. Him, with those goddamn oranges that he’s still holding in his too-big hands, and you, with your shopping cart that you forgot back at the end of aisle 7 twice already. 

You stare and stare and stare, all until your burning curiosity finally gets the best of you, and you can’t help but invite him to approach you with a not at all subtle aim to appease it. 

Kiba visibly perks up when you wave him over. He shoves the oranges into a reusable bag that his mom had always nagged him about using, and walks over with that confident stride you’d always envied him for having. 

And then all of a sudden he’s right there, in the flesh. Looking the same as he’d always looked, but also not at all.

It’s weird. His smile is the same but the face that surrounds it has changed. Finding yourself in his presence again after a period that you’d describe nothing short of a small eternity, you realize that even if the grin of your childhood best friend is an exact replica of his old one, everything else has either faded away or been replaced by something new.

And new means foreign.

Because as you tip your head slightly upwards to initiate proper eye contact this time, you realize that Kiba has gotten taller. Way taller. Even with his posture relaxed, he towers above you with no effort; something he didn’t get to do back when you’d been nothing but a pair of runts, practically conjoined at the hip.

And that’s not all there is to it. Besides his impressive height, Kiba has also become broader in the shoulders and longer in the legs since you’ve last seen him. He has a sleeve of insanely intricate tattoos covering nearly the entirety of his left arm; it reaches up to the short sleeve of his light-grey tee and probably up to his shoulder. He’s also lost most of his baby fat, and thus now owns a face more defined than you ever recall it being. 

His mop of hair is mostly hidden by the faded baseball cap that he must have put on to fight the summer heat that’s raging outside, however there are still a couple of rogue curls peeking out at the sides and at the nape of his neck. The brim has softened from how old the cap is, not as bent downwards at the corners as it surely used to be ages ago, but at least it still gets the job done. 

He’s always had a habit of being lazy whenever it came to getting haircuts. It seems like some things did manage to stay the same, after all.

You investigate further. As far as differences go, the edge of Kiba’s jawline is sharp instead of round, and his cheeks look smooth to the touch. He’s clean-shaven; the embarrassing peach fuzz days, which you used to tease him about for months on end, have ended. 

He’s a grown man. A pretty darn healthy, vigorous one, it seems.

And speaking of being healthy, you remember a time when he wasn’t.

———

You’re fourteen again and find yourself back in a rather familiar bedroom.

The air inside the room smells warm, like wood and your second home. The sounds of the house are just the way you remember them being. 

There’s someone talking downstairs. Furniture cracks and snaps as it settles in even if it’s old and has had more than enough time to do so already. Dog claws ceaselessly click against the floor. The TV is on. You can hear the weather forecast for tomorrow if you strain your ears hard enough. 

And then there’s the shallow breathing.

Oh, yeah. Right. 

Kiba’s sick. 

Your smile wavers as you keep sitting on the edge of the bed, his bed, that you’d fallen asleep in a rather embarrassing amount of times back when your legs were shorter and it hadn’t been considered awkward or improper just because your best friend belongs to the opposite sex.

The sheets are a tacky design of light blue and white and the mattress is old, but sturdy enough to not cause any worry of having to buy a new one just yet. It supports both his and your own weight fairly well, however it won’t be able to do so for much longer, you think.

You turn your head towards the window. It’s fall and it’s raining outside — the heavy raindrops rattle against the glass every so often whenever the wind catches them, making you stare out at the foggy grayness that sluggishly spirals on the other side.

You’ve left your boots downstairs. In the hallway, where Tsume, Kiba’s mother, had greeted you and ushered you inside the moment you’d come knocking on her front door, looking soaking wet to the bone. Besides your boots, your bright yellow raincoat resides there as well, probably dripping from the hanger onto the floor, making a puddle you’ll have to feverishly apologize for later.

With your train of thought coming to a halt, you eventually grow tired of watching the nearby woods that reside next to the Inuzuka household. So you shift your gaze again. 

This time, you focus on the room itself. There are posters taped to the walls, the majority of them depicting movies and rock bands that you’ve never really fancied yourself all that much. The desk is littered with clutter, most of it school-related but you’re able to spot a couple of comics in there as well. The alarm clock on the nightstand is digital; it shows the time. 

3:27 PM.

It’s a Thursday afternoon, but it’s also the fourth day that Kiba hasn’t come to school. The seat in the classroom that he usually sits in remains empty — you know that because you keep it reserved for him by placing your backpack on it each morning. He’s been absent ever since the pain in his limbs and the unyielding fever had become too much for even him to handle; the boy who just loves to brag about never getting sick. 

All right, you’ve got to cut him some slack because in some way, he isn’t even actually sick? His growth spurt — and his entire puberty experience overall, if you could even call it that — is the thing that has taken such a toll on him, not actual illness.

And in some way, it has taken a toll on you, too. Seeing him ache hurts you just the same, even if your bones aren’t the ones that are currently growing much too fast, much too soon.

So here you are, bringing him copies of the notes that you’ve been religiously taking in class for the fourth day in a row. Keeping him company. Wiping the sweat off his forehead with a rag soaked in water, like a good best friend. Over and over again. Without stop.

His dark brown hair is damp from all the water and sweat, it sticks to his temples. He’s burning up, to the point that his face is flushed pink instead of tan, but he’s still shivering all over underneath the covers. 

Your heart hurts as you watch him endure such profound agony; it makes your chest squeeze tight. He’s clearly fallen ill in some shape or form and is in obvious pain, but no matter what you tell him, he simply refuses to go to the doctor’s office.

Truth be told, you feel rather surprised that his mom hasn’t dragged him there herself yet. Taking into account that she’s usually completely unfazed by his overwhelmingly stubborn nature, you’d expected her to not be taking any shit from her son whatsoever and would be firmly setting her foot down when it came to anything concerning his health. Granted, while he did inherit most of his obstinate qualities from her side of the family, the fact that—

“Stop worryin’ so much.”

You blink in surprise. “Mm?”

“I said stop worryin’.”

The feeble request that Kiba makes sounds firmer this time. It makes you look up from the rag you’ve been subconsciously clutching in your hands with a near death grip for the last five minutes or so. 

The slightly tingly feeling that dances within them now is somewhat hard to ignore. Especially at the tips of your fingers.

So you rest your hands on your lap, rubbing your palms up and down your jeans just to have something to do now that they’re empty. By the time you finally will yourself to turn your head, Kiba is already looking at you from the confines of the cozy prison that is his bed. 

His eyes are nearly half shut, eyelids heavy with lead-weighted exhaustion, but his expression is riddled with an emotion you’re not mature enough yet to fully decipher, much less understand.

Not that you’d ever tell him that, but you'd always considered him as the emotionally smarter one of your little duo; even with his awfully short temper taken into consideration. 

After all, while you excelled in academics, Kiba sought different places to thrive and prosper in. It didn’t take a genius to see that he’s practically been made to communicate with others; that he’s a proper people person. Shaped by people to be loved by people.

And the people do tend to love him. They really do.

Now that you think about it, that may also be the reason as to why he has way more friends than you. Why he can usually turn most situations to his favour, while you normally struggle to avoid the worst of outcomes. Why he knows how to read you like an open book Every. Single. Time, while you just play a never-ending guessing game of what’s happening inside that thick skull of his.

You’re an odd pair together. He’s nothing like you and you’re nothing like him. It’s no wonder that some don’t believe you’re actual friends at first, however Kiba has always been fast to prove them wrong. For some unknown reason, he’s attached you to himself and has been pulling you along for the ride ever since the day he first saw you. It’s been like that ever since.

Meanwhile, you’re just happy that you have someone to spend time with. Being so introverted proves to be quite a nuisance whenever it comes to meeting new people and acquiring friends, so he’s pretty much all you’ve got.

And that makes you care for him even more.

“How on earth am I supposed to ‘not worry’,” you begin to say quietly, making air quotes, “when my best friend has been practically chained to his bed for the last four days?”

Immediately, Kiba brushes you off with a flick of the wrist, gesturing that he thinks you’re overreacting. It pisses you off greatly, especially when he says, “Oh, please… I’m fine. You just worry too much.”

“Are you, though?” you ask. “Fine?”

“Are you?”

You exhale through your nose as you attempt to relax and wiggle your fingers, trying to appease him or convince him otherwise, you don’t know. 

The truth is, you want to tell him that no, you’re not fine. You want to tell him that you are worried sick for him because he is sick and won’t admit it. You want to tell him that you love him, that you care about him. Not in that kind of way, of course — goodness, no! — but in a way a young teenage girl who doesn’t know any better can love her best friend.

But instead, all you do is stay quiet because being considerate of others is your go-to. Besides, his headache is as bad enough as it is already. Who are you to make it worse by troubling him with your nonsense?

Unfortunately for you, Kiba doesn’t buy your rather bad portrayal of calm. All he does is sigh at it.

Continuously.

“What? What are you sighing for so much?” you instantly snap at the sound and aura of exasperation he emits, now. Your tone is razor sharp, much sharper than it needs to be, but you just can’t help yourself. Being so different from you, he can be outright infuriating sometimes.

“Nothin’,” he answers back, and yet he can’t resist giving you that look that definitely means there is something. “It’s nothin’, bunny.”

Your tone falls flat at the nickname he’s given you because of your rather timid personality, “Liar.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

He grunts, sighing again. “Oh, c’mon—”

“What?” you quip again. “You told me not to worry, so here I am; not worrying! I’m doing just like you’ve said.” 

The small wrinkle that’s etched itself between your brows deepens as the words rush out of you in one great swoop. It’s clear to you both that you don’t really mean them, but it looks like there’s definitely no sign of you admitting them coming any time soon.

“Fine, whatever.” Kiba almost sounds like he’s grumbling as he says, “You’re not worrying. There. Happy?”

You scoff. “No? Yes? I don’t know if I’m happy!”

He manages a weak smile at your indecisiveness, a mere quirk of an upper lip that’s not nearly as lively as it normally would be if he weren’t so sick. Your body tenses as he shuffles closer to the edge of the bed where you reside and nuzzles his face deeper into the pillow, wiping the sweat off his cheek right into the bedding this time around.

His voice comes across as muffled from the way he’s still hiding his face from view when he says, “I can practically see your brain catching on fire from all that worry that you’re apparently ‘not’ feeling, ya know.”

You can’t stop your eyes from rolling back as far as they’ll go. They just do it completely on their own accord whenever you’re with him, it seems. “And how can you possibly—”

He points at you with one tired hand and winces at how terribly heavy his arm feels with the action. It’s unpleasant and draining, but he wants to prove a point. So he keeps it nice and steady as he says, “Look, there’s smoke comin’ outta your ears already! You better chill out, or that lil’ pea brain of yours is gonna get burnt to a crisp or somethin’.”

He hisses like he’s just burnt himself after he teases you, drawing yet another scoff out of you. 

A pout graces your lips as you glare at him from underneath your lashes; ever the unexpected drama queen. “Well, at least I have a brain to burn, unlike yourself.”

His eyes settle on you again. “What’s that supposed t’mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like, dummy,” you say. “I can bet you five bucks that there’s nothing but hay stored inside that freakishly big head of yours!”

“I—” He bristles at your comment before his eyes open wide and he scowls. “Shut up! My head ain’t big!”

Your expression mirrors his own, now. “No, you shut up!”

“You can’t talk to me like that; I’m sick!”

“So you finally admit that you’re actually sick, huh?”

“No, wait, that’s not what I meant—”

“Nu-uh, you said it so you meant it!”

Everything is quiet as you lean forward to point and dig an accusatory finger into his chest. He tenses but relaxes in a beat of a moment as the remaining pads of your fingers join in and graze the soft cotton of his worn t-shirt. Swipe to the right, then slightly upwards, the flat of your palm rests above the place where his heart lies.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump! 

His heartbeat is fast. Strong. Like a song that makes you want to scream the lyrics to instead of singing them so that you can feel it better inside the marrow of your bones.

But you don’t feel like listening right now.

“Hey, what’re you—”

He squirms and lets out a small noise of surprise when you suddenly jab him in the ribs.

Exchanging a quick look of betrayal with your best friend as he slaps your hand away, you feel your lips start to quiver. It’s not long before you both succumb and break into a fit of quiet laughter. The tension gradually dissipates with every chuckle and snicker, right along with your worries. At least for a little while, that is.

Kiba’s laugh cracks midway. You’re unsure if it’s because of the fact that he’s not feeling well or because his voice is just getting deeper with age, however you’re still giggling by the time he clears his throat and reaches over to place his hand on top of your own.

Your eyes instinctively flit towards the contact. It’s not anything new, you’ve held hands with him before — god knows you’ve gotten fake-married on at least three different occasions throughout your childhood, and with three different flavoured ring pops, at that — but as you now gaze at the blunt crescents of his nails, you can’t for the life of you remember his hand ever being this hot to the touch.

It’s concerning.

“Dude,” you whisper, your voice slowly dropping from playful to wary. “I don’t want to nag you about it anymore since I know you don’t like it, but I seriously think that you should go see a doctor… You’re burning up and it’s probably—”

You twitch as Kiba gives your hand a gentle, albeit unexpected squeeze to make you look up at him again. 

Just like your voice, his expression has switched from his previously boyish one, to a much more somber kind that, truth be told, you’re not used to seeing on his face all that much.

It makes your sentence, well, rambling, gradually fade into silence as you finally indulge him for once by keeping your mouth shut. He used to think you were quiet back when he’d met you. Now he knows that you just have to get comfortable in order to start speaking.

Shadows from the swaying branches outside dance across the side of his face that he hasn’t got buried in the pillow. Looking like he’s contemplating something heavy, Kiba swallows the saliva that’s gathered in his mouth whilst he runs his thumb along your knuckles.

The brief attempt at soothing you manages to bring a smidge of peace to the otherwise growing hurricane of emotions that’s steadily whirling somewhere inside your ribcage, however it’s over much too soon to actually make any difference.

Your look of concern only worsens as a result. Concentrating hard, you manage to repress the sudden urge to start biting your nails and tugging on the sleeves of your cream-coloured sweater that you’ve put on this morning.

“I’m just worried about you, is all,” you admit what he already knows, so quietly that you doubt if he can even hear it. “I just want you to get better.”

“I know,” is all he says. He can smell it on you.

“Then why won’t you—” You squeeze your eyes shut, groaning with irritation. “Gosh, why won’t you just do something about it, then?”

“Because I have to tell you something first,” he trails off somewhat reluctantly, and for once, he sounds like he’s actually being completely serious. “You just… you gotta promise me that you won’t tell anybody.”

Your reply comes quicker than one sequence of his heartbeat, “I promise. Besides, who would I tell anyway?”

“I mean it,” he says. You watch as he shakes his head slowly, sighing for real this time, not just to annoy you. “You seriously can’t tell anybody; not even your mom or Sakura or Ino. Especially Ino, for that matter.”

Offence bubbles within your chest way too fast at the merest hint of distrust. Since when did he start thinking you were one to yap out every little thing he tells you? 

“And I really mean it, too,” you fuss, brow wrinkling. “Jeez, Kiba; if I promise you that I’m not going to tell, then I’m really not going to tell! I’m not that close with Ino and Sakura anyway.”

Kiba blinks, seemingly surprised by how heatedly invested you’ve gotten into learning his secret. But also by how close you’ve managed to squeeze yourself next to him with the upset feelings to overwhelm you, briefly forgetting the lengthy speech about how he should go see a doctor. How you wait, evidently impatient and with bated breath, just so that you’d be able to hear every word he has to say.

He’s been seeing you in a different kind of light as of late. So perhaps it’s time that he shed some of it on himself now.

He’s always been one to love the spotlight, after all.

———

“Well, well, well… do my eyes deceive me, or have you finally gotten taller, wolf boy?”

The short laugh Kiba lets out at your innocent taunt doesn’t crack like it did back when you were fourteen. Instead, it’s deep and hearty; it reverberates deep inside his chest, sounding like a voice a storm would possess if it had the ability to speak the human tongue.

“Still insisting on that ol’ nickname?” he asks as he rests one hand on his hip.

“Of course,” you reply, chuckling. It’s hard to take him seriously when he looks like a nearly perfect replica of his mother in that exact moment; standing so disapprovingly, red shopping basket in hand. “I mean, who would I be if I did not make fun of you every chance I get?”

“Well, I dunno,” he mumbles whilst his eyes flick up towards the ceiling, seemingly searching for something. And then he looks at you again, but this time with that infuriating half-smile that you can’t say you’ve missed as he says, “A decent fuckin’ person for a change? Maybe?”

It’s light-hearted, what he says. Fun and provocative, just like he is. Like he’s always been.

So you bite.

“Oh, Kiba, Kiba, Kiba,” you purr, angling your head to one side playfully whilst clicking your tongue against your teeth. Your hand presses against his chest, the action so familiar it’s become muscle memory by now even after years of not initiating it. “When has being decent ever been fun to someone like you, mm?”

And there it is. The strong heartbeat corresponding to the soft lilt that appears in your voice when his name leaves your lips. Just like it’s always done whenever your only goal was to fluster him for ‘funsies’.

However, the interaction that was once so familiar to you is not quite as recognizable this time around.

Because now, it invites his gaze to settle back onto your face rather than pushing it away into the corner of the room. 

So he stares at you now. Leers. 

You try your best to ignore the way your muscles instinctively stiffen at the sight of the prolonged slits that slowly switch places with his pupils. Try your best to pay no mind to the way your pulse suddenly accelerates, pumping blood and forcing all of your senses to become overwhelmingly acute.

It’s done so fast that it makes you feel sort of dizzy. He stands straighter and every single hair on your body stands to attention in return. Goosebumps cover your skin the same moment as it starts feeling like it’s being pulled taut over your bones. You try to blame the sensation of a chill creeping up the back of your neck on the store’s AC but you know better.

The people who surround you don’t matter anymore. This summer’s hit song that annoyingly keeps on playing on repeat over the speakers above your heads has turned to white noise. 

It’s just him and you and you and him. Past, present, future.

And fuck, his irises are no longer brown. They’re darker; golden, almost unnaturally yellow. The colour gets eaten up fast as the pupils expand and shrink continuously. He zeroes in on you, on your mouth, on the curve of your face, on the bare side of your neck that you’ve got exposed with your ponytail and the tilt of your head. 

It’s been years since he’s last looked at you like that; that one time before you ran off to college, when you took it a step too far with the innocent flirting and you’ve almost come too close for comfort. 

But unlike before, he simply refuses to tear his eyes off of you this time. Refuses to relent. Refuses to blush and turn away in that sheepish way that is so uncharacteristic for an exceptionally, sometimes annoyingly bold person like him and that reminds you more of yourself.

His odd persistence causes him to pin you down with a single look, making you freeze on the spot.

Just like a predator would do to potential prey.

But that’s silly. You’re not prey! You’re his best friend, or well, you used to be once in a time long past. So keeping that in mind, you force yourself to quickly shake the eerie feeling off of your suddenly tense body as if it’s a heavy winter’s coat you’ve foolishly donned on, and ease the sudden tightness that tries so hard to take up residency within your chest, now.

But despite all of the attempts at self-soothing, as well as the countless comforting, reassuring mantras that you keep on playing on a loop inside your head in the same way you do a newly-discovered song on Spotify, you don’t really know what he’s like anymore, now do you? 

You haven’t seen him in years, after all. Haven’t spoken to him in ages. You left him all alone, left him to his own devices after he’d given you the same look he’s giving you now.

What if he’s managed to become more wolf than human with all that alone time?

The question makes your head want to hurt, so it’s no wonder that your voice comes out somewhat small-sounding when you finally gather yourself just enough to murmur, “You’re doing the thing again.”

And his sounds just a smidge on edge, just a smidge too sharp as he takes a step closer and mutters, “Thing? What thing?”

“You’ve got, uh… y’know…” You swallow audibly and try not to pay attention to the way his gaze slides down to your throat because of it; to the way it softly bobs as the sticky spit travels down, down, down. You swear that you can see the corners of his lips kick up at the sight of it. “You’ve got nightmare eyes.”

“Huh?” It takes him a second to realize what you mean. To remember one of the old codes you’ve come up with using whenever you’re in public, amongst people who certainly don’t know what he truly is. 

And then, at long last, the intensity in his expression ceases and brightens up as the realization dawns upon him. It’s like a lightbulb turning on with the flick of a switch. 

“Oh. Shit. Fuck, umm,” he curses like a sailor whenever he’s caught off-guard. It makes you relax just the tiniest bit as he finally musters a genuine, “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even… notice.”

You watch as he proceeds to rub his eyes with one hand, all whilst you exhale a long puff of air that you’d almost forgotten you were holding in the first place. 

He looks at you again, genuinely confused and apologetic, and this time with pupils back to their regular circular shape. It causes some primal sort of relief that reaches the very core of your psyche to wash over you.

You’re free to move again. 

“It’s— Hah, it’s fine,” you manage weakly. “Besides a pretty awkward start to a conversation, it’s no biggie, really.”

“Fine? It definitely ain’t fine,” he retorts immediately. “You wouldn’t be lookin’ like you’re scared shitless right now if it were fine.”

“Me? Scared of you? Oh, please!” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest even if your limbs feel very wobbly and soft like jelly all of a sudden. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He blinks again, his look a slightly incredulous one. “Don’t tell me you forgot?”

The bridge of your nose scrunches up in mild confusion as you ask, “Forgot what?”

Kiba grumbles this time, pointing to his own nose, “Uh, the fact that I can literally smell the fear on ya…?”

Oh. Oh! He’s right, you somehow did manage to forget that; forget his ability to smell how someone is feeling just from the way their hormone levels change the very base of their scent and the sweat they exude as a result. Or whatever the science behind it is.

Jesus fucking Christ. Him and his stupid wolf genes. What’s next, him pinpointing the day when your next period is due?

As if that hasn’t happened before.

“Wha—...? Of course not! Tsch.” You try to play it off with a click of a tongue that doesn’t manage to convince either of you. “What I don’t remember, however, is giving you permission to sniff me like some sleazy creep.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he bristles immediately at the remark. “You know damn well what I meant.”

You nod. “Yes, that you’re a sleazy creep.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” he asks. “Stop breathing around your presence?”

“I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

He gives you a pointed glare. “It also wouldn’t hurt to try shutting the fuck up every once in a while, and yet here you are.”

“Wow, I can’t believe I’ve also managed to forget what a prick you are.”

“Right back atcha.”

You both share a short laugh at your little faux quarrel, the tension slowly relenting. The entire interaction is familiar. 

His shoulders relax, your heartbeat slows down to something a bit more normal. He doesn’t point it out just for the sake of not starting yet another petty argument.

“But seriously, don’t worry about it.” You pause at some point, stifling another brittle chuckle that bubbles up your throat. “I know you can’t control your weird, spooky eyes, okay? And besides, I’m used to them anyway! Well, kind of… I guess I’m used to them…? Gosh, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

Is it because you’re nervous?

“Still,” he chides, sighing. “It’s been years and I should’ve learned how to fix it by now. It’s just—” He takes a breath. Ponders as various excuses and half-truths start bouncing off the walls inside his head. “It’s just that I dunno how to control it whenever you’re… umm...”

You give him a second, but when he doesn’t say anything else, you bite the bullet to ask, “Whenever I’m what?”

“Ah, nothin’,” he mumbles whilst scratching his cheek. You narrow your eyes as he fixes the brim of his cap. As he tugs on the collar of his thin t-shirt with its stupidly oversized Nike logo. He’s fidgeting all over the place, especially when he feels the need to add, “It’s nothin’.”

It feels like life is repeating itself all over again.

Your curiosity makes you lean further into his space just like you had a habit of doing back when you were kids. Only this time, he doesn’t take your hand. He doesn’t stroke your knuckles one by one, but rather pushes back, creating more space between your bodies.

Well, that’s new.

“C’mon.” Your tone falls slightly flat because of the sudden disappointment that reaches way deeper than you’d expected it to as you ask, “Whenever I’m what?”

He sounds surprisingly stern as he says, “I told you… it’s nothing.”

A long pause ensues. And then all he gets from you is an, “Okay.”

Awkwardness lingers in the air once again. It makes you both uncomfortable because neither of you is really used to the sudden quiet. You’ve gone through so much, so many experiences together and now it’s come to… this? Walking on eggshells around each other until the end of time just because of that one event in the past and now this one?

Fuck no. As if you’re going to let that happen.

So you plaster a smile onto your face, one that doesn’t really reach your eyes just yet as you say, “Just so you know, you’re acting hella weird right now.”

“Well what did you expect, bunny?” He shrugs and you try to act like you don’t notice the way his t-shirt tightens at all the right places with it. Goodness, he’s changed so much in just a couple of years, you can hardly believe it. “I mean, I bump into you after literal years of no contact whatsoever, and when I finally do, all you do is argue with me and call me a, what was it again, ‘sleazy creep’?”

It’s hard not to giggle at the air quotes he feels the need to show you with the two words. It makes your face lighten up as you say, “Stop calling me that.”

“What, bunny?” He smirks, now. Smirks! “Sure. But only after you stop calling me all of your stupid nicknames.”

You muse like a cat. “Why of course, Jacob.”

His expression turns blank in an instant, the smirk gone as quickly as it came. “Seriously?”

“What? It’s just a name, isn’t it?”

“Just so you know, I still regret the day you made me watch Twilight with you.”

“Oh, shush. You loved it, and besides; it was on theme!”

You feel your grin growing into a genuine one as he scoffs and grunts something under his breath in reply. He’s clearly annoyed with all your bullshit.

“Mm?” You blink, the corners of your lips twitching upward, persisting. “What was that?”

“Nothin’.”

“No, no, none of that again. Out with it; I want to hear what you said.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes, the honey that swirls in them as dazzling as ever. So syrupy sweet, his irises are an utter delight even under the unflattering fluorescent lights of the store. “I said that you’re still as insufferable as you used to be back when we were kids.”

The chuckle you let out now is one of pure amusement. “Is that so?”

“Yep,” he says as he pops the P. “A goddamn pain in my ass since day one.”

You quirk a brow. “Am I really, now?”

“Who else but you?”

It’s always been you.

His words spark a sensation of genuine fondness to swell so deep within your ribcage that you’re somewhat unsure of what to do with it. 

Confused, you push it to the side. Sweep it under the rug and allow it to join the already big pile of all the other unrequited feelings you’ve never dared to express. It’s easier to purposefully keep your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

You can’t see when you’re already blind.

“Any-ways,” you sing-song, extending your hand towards him. “It was good seeing you again. We should grab a coffee sometime, if you’re up for it?”

Instead of replying and shaking your hand, Kiba looks down at your polite gesture and nearly starts to frown at the sight of it.

“What?” you ask as the slight wrinkle between his brows continues to deepen. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason.” He hesitates a bit then, swallowing hard. It makes his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “I’ve just missed you, is all. This town fucking sucks ass when my girl’s not in it, ya know? And this whole handshake thing you’re doing is weird.”

Fuck. His honesty, the way he calls you his girl, the too-warm look in his too-warm eyes, fucking everything in that wretched moment makes you start feeling dizzy and causes sweat to gather in a layer so thick right on the flat of your awkwardly twitchy palms, one of which you’re still extending towards him.

What you wouldn’t give for a pair of pockets to stuff them into right now.

Because to be completely honest, you’re outright baffled by the reaction that your body throws at you with full force, now. He’s called you the same two words a million times before, alone or in front of other people — it never really mattered. To him, you were always his girl. It was that simple.

And while that did manage to stir up some emotions within you that you weren’t ready to acknowledge yet even back then, you always managed to play it off like it was no big deal. 

But those feelings have gotten stronger now, despite the distance. They’ve gotten potent. To the point where they’re almost deadly.

And they’re also sneaky, like a shadow grazing your back and breathing right at the spot where your neck connects to your shoulder. They gradually build up with each passing second of silence that hangs between you. They take their time to build up on momentum; like an avalanche or an upcoming tsunami. 

And for a moment, just for the shortest of moments, you swear that Kiba can tell.

But luckily for you, he seems to be oblivious about it, or is at least playing it off like he is. And that’s good! The least he can do after cooking up this mess, is save you the embarrassment that you most certainly don’t wish to live through, thank you very much! 

So you do the next best thing that is currently at your disposal. 

You object to his genuine affection like an idiot. 

“Whaaat? You missing me?” Internally cringing at how high your voice is getting in pitch, you’re almost positive that it must hurt his sensitive wolf hearing. However, much to your dismay, you just can’t fucking stop acting weird for some reason. “Pfsh… Didn’t anyone tell you that lying isn’t nice, Inuzuka?”

For fuck’s sake, you’re acting like he’s holding you at gunpoint.

“Uh… Okay? Hah…?” He gives you a look filled to the brim with doubt, his dark brows faintly scrunching together again. “Well, you wanna know what else ain’t nice?”

All you can do is nod. You’re on the verge of killing yourself right here and now.

“Well, how ‘bout,” he pretends to ponder, rubbing his chin. “Oh! How ‘bout forgetting all about your best friend the moment you start attending some fancy, goody two shoes college halfway across the country. Yeah.”

It’s your turn to offer him your best unimpressed stare this time. Your heart feels like it’s stuck inside your throat, pulse rattling behind your teeth. 

You can’t really tell if he’s joking or not. His tone may be light, sure, but you aren’t able to read him as well as you used to back in the day, and even then it was pretty bad.

He’s gotten… complicated.

Much like your entire friendship has.

You can still remember the almost kiss that never happened back at his place that caused this entire flurry of very, very confusing emotions to start in the first place, or at least present themselves at the surface. Right on the night before you’d packed your bags and ran off to the other side of the country, nearly fully ghosting him on the spot. Your best friend.

“C’mon, man,” you mumble, “don’t be like that.” The guilt is bad enough as it is.

“Like what?” he asks. As is regret.

“Don’t hold a grudge like you always do. I’ve come home loads of times between semesters; during the holidays especially,” you hesitantly retort, frowning. “And besides, it’s not like you weren’t gone all the time either. I saw your posts about all the backpacking and all those roadtrips and whatnot... With Tamaki.” 

The mention of his ex-girlfriend catches him off guard. He blinks, flicking his gaze towards the stacked shelves that suddenly seem to become like the most interesting thing in the world.

Goddammit, you’d almost kissed him while— while—

Still, despite all of that, you wait for him to say something first. Patiently, impatiently; you don’t even know anymore.

“I called,” he lamely offers at long last.

“Well, I texted,” you reply in a heartbeat.

“Barely,” he corrects. “You barely texted.”

Your expression falls somber in an instant. Of course he’d paint you as the bad guy as effortlessly as it is to breathe. It’s what cancers are known for. Especially cancer men.

“Well,” you stumble, shrugging. “What did you want me to do, Kiba? I-I mean, you had a girlfriend.”

“So?” 

He doesn’t even ask how you know that they’ve broken up. But to be fair, when you stop posting couple photos on your stories and feed and suddenly unfollow each other, it’s a pretty obvious tell.

“So? So?” You stare at him, taken aback. “I seriously doubt Tamaki would’ve been happy to see some random chick blowing up your phone constantly.”

“But you’re not some random chick. You were my best friend… you still are,” he says and Jesus on a fucking cross, the way he says the words makes him sound so fucking hurt. 

“I know,” is all you can offer. The weight that suddenly sits on your shoulders makes you want to slump. That, or either curling yourself into a ball.

The feeling only gets worse when he says, “We were supposed to go on those trips together.”

“I know,” you repeat. “I’m sorry.”

He fixes the brim of his cap again. “Are ya, though? Sorry?” 

“Yes! Of course I am!” You scowl so hard that it makes the bridge of your nose scrunch up in annoyance. “If I could do something about it, I would. Trust me.”

He looks at you; really looks at you. Up and down. And then he says, “Then do it.”

“Do what?” you ask dumbly.

“Go on a trip with me,” he explains. “Today.”

“Today?”

“Did I fuckin’ stutter?”

You stare at him. He stares right back, gaze unmoving. 

Fucking hell, he’s actually serious about this.

“But I’m… I’m not really a backpacking kind of girl,” you try meekly. 

Just the mere idea of going somewhere remote with him completely alone is making you feel warm all over. You need to get yourself out of this mess ASAP!

“No worries,” he replies faster than a heartbeat. “We can always go camping.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Camping?”

“Yeah. For one night,” he says. “I know a really good spot that I go to all the time.”

“But I–” You fumble once more, looking down at the pretty nail polish on your toes. “I don’t even have the proper clothes for it. Like those fancy gym clothes.”

“Heh.” You attempt to ignore the way his chuckle makes your heart want to jump. Especially as he leans in slightly to say, “All you need is a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. Oh, or maybe those grey leggings that you always liked to wear and that make your ass look great… Do you still have those?”

He snickers like a child when you punch him in the shoulder.

“And what about the hiking boots, you perv?” you ask, brushing off his lewd comment with heat creeping up your neck. 

“What about ‘em?”

“I don’t have those either.”

“Christ, we’re not going that far, bunny.” He laughs, looking at you in disbelief. “A pair of sneakers will do. You’re talking and planning like I’m gonna take you all the way up to the mountains like I’m some fuckin’ dragon or some shit.”

Your eyes surely must be getting tired from rolling back so much. “Hilarious.”

He waits on your answer with a smile; the one that shows that wretched dimple in his cheek and that makes him look entirely innocent despite the oddly sharp canine teeth. 

Goddammit, you want to kill him because of how cute he is. However, you’re still feeling slightly unsure about the entire thing. 

Evidently reluctant, you ask, “Just one night?”

“Just one night,” he confirms, nodding vehemently.

“And there isn’t going to be a full moon or anything… of that sort?”

He chuckles at the hidden question. “I wouldn’t really be out here shopping for groceries if there was a chance for that to happen, now would I?”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true,” you trail off. You glance up at him, not fully convinced yet. “Do you promise that you’ll take care of everything?”

“‘Course,” he says.

“Say it, then.”

“Say what?”

“That you promise.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously!”

He sighs at how persistful you are. As if he’s any better! “Fine. I promise that I’ll take care of everything.” 

Even you.

Seconds pass. One second, two, three. Staring at him with both of your brows tightly knit together, you can literally feel his excitement transferring itself to you through some invisible link between you which you’ve never quite managed to sever. You suppose his emotions are just that contagious.

“Well?” he inquires, all giddy-like. “What d’you say?”

“Well,” you trail off, kissing your teeth. “I suppose… a single night can’t really hurt?”

“Fuck, yes!” he exclaims and before you know it, you’re being pulled into a bear hug you didn’t even realize how much you’ve missed until you’re caught in it all over again.

Your cheek smushes against his chest. Muscle memory kicks in once more; persuading your arms to move on their own accord, letting them wrap around the familiar place a little above his waist that doesn’t feel as familiar anymore. 

He smells good, like amber, the very heart of a forest and all things wild. It’s earthy, rich, inhumanly strong. It fills your nose, titillates your senses and makes lush greenery and spices start to take root inside your lungs. 

Every breath makes you dizzier and it’s hard to keep your composure as a result; especially when there’s a sequence of powerful thump, thump, thumps pounding right against your ear, now.

His heartbeat is so fast. It’s like he has two.

You’re silent as you listen to the quick rhythm of his heart. And for a change, so is he. Feeling unsure how much time is passing, you continue to cling onto your best friend in the middle of the empty aisle, reawakening all the memories, warming your body with his heat even if it’s hot enough outside to fry an egg on the concrete. 

The soles of your colourful flip-flops will surely stick to the sidewalk when you walk back home to gather your things and explain your unexpected trip to your parents.

“Kiba—” The last part of his name melds into a giggle from the way he squeezes you so tight that your spine pleasantly cracks in all the places that have been feeling way too stiff from the all-nighters you had to pull during exam week, and progresses into a quiet squeal for help by the time he swings you from side to side like an excited boy would his favourite toy.

“Ugh, m’sorry!” He laughs as he releases you, letting you plant your feet back onto the white tiles where they belong. “I just had to get that outta my goddamn system. It’s been building up for years.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, punching his shoulder again, this time playfully. “I always knew you were secretly a softy.”

The tips of his ears turn pink at that. The blush is not strong enough to be noticed by you, but he feels the warmth, feels the subtle prickling along the back of his neck.

Why is it so intense?

It makes his voice drop lower as he mutters a flustered, “As if.”

“What, I really did!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever… But all jokes aside, I really am glad that you’re back,” he admits before you can beat him to it. He pulls back just enough to look you directly in the eyes and smiles. “I really did miss you a whole lot, bunny.”

It’s hard to be vulnerable and admit that you’ve missed him too, so you keep quiet as you plaster your best smile onto your lips again and reach up to jokingly flick the tip of his nose.

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

Perhaps it’ll distract him from the fact that unlike him, you’re as cowardly as they get.

———

“Hey, I meant to ask… How come you didn’t bring Akamaru with you today?”

Some time after bumping into you in the grocery store, Kiba stills for a second at the innocent question you present before him whilst walking the narrow forest path that is supposed to be leading you to your destination.

In the late afternoon hours, the forest feels like it’s alive. There are birds chirping amongst the branches of the trees above your heads and warm sunlight filters through the leaves. A nearby stream keeps busy by smoothing down the rocks inside it. Everything thrives during the summer.

Even the air smells better; like it’s been thoroughly ridden of your town’s signature scent. But despite the fact that you’ve reached the point of summer when dog days are approaching fast, every inhale you take now feels fresh and satisfyingly cool instead of sticky whilst it travels down your airway.

It’s nice to be able to breathe again. 

And as for Kiba, well, he wishes he could say the same.

Following closely behind you, the young werewolf realizes that he is finding it harder and harder to concentrate the further progress you make on your hike. And while there may be plenty of reasons for his lack of focus at the moment, taking the fact that you’ve still got a lot of catching up to do into account, the main one is also the one that concerns him the most.

You just smell so fucking delicious to him, it’s insane.

He wants to devour you.

And how couldn’t he want that? There are phantom strawberries weaved into your hair and clothes from the matching shampoo and body wash set that you must have showered with before leaving your house. Sunscreen sits on your skin, turning the fruity notes even more summery than they already are.

If he walks close enough, he can even smell the sweat that slowly gathers on the back of your neck as you ascend the gradual slope of the hill that he’s planning to set up camp on.

So yeah, it’s hard to stay away, when all your scent does is lure him in. Hard to keep in-check, when you’re practically calling out to him, inviting him to come closer. He’s missed the way you smell so much.

God, if only he could just shove his nose into the crook of your neck and—

“Kiba?”

“Huh?” 

The man in question blinks now, looking up only to find you standing several meters ahead of him; hands glued to your hips and brow quirked. He didn’t even realize that he’d come to a full stop while thinking about certain scenarios he’d rather not say out loud for the sake of your well-being.

“Sorry,” he says before he awkwardly clears his throat and quickens his pace to reach you again. “What did you say? I kinda got sidetracked for a bit there.”

“By what?” You part your lips wider, huffing whilst trying to gather your breath. He looks like he hasn’t even broken a sweat while you’re literally feeling like your lungs are about to collapse any second now. To make matters even worse, he’s also skilfully avoided the pesky tree root that almost made you trip earlier without even as much as glancing at it. 

“You know what, never mind that,” you say, shaking your head. “I just asked why you didn’t bring Akamaru with us today?”

“Oh, umm… Well, ya know; he’s gotten pretty old by now so he can’t really make the trek as effortlessly as he used to,” he starts to explain and you don’t miss the hint of melancholy that overcomes his voice ever so slightly now. “Nowadays I just leave him at my mom’s whenever I go hiking.”

“Oh,” you mutter while wrapping your fingers around the straps of your old backpack which you’ve dug up from the back of your sibling’s closet. Your grip tightens a bit as you add, “I’m sorry about that. I know how much you care about that dog.”

“I mean, it’s not like he’s dead or anything, hah,” he says, his chuckle kind of bitter. “He’s just a senior dog now, doing senior things. Nothing wrong with that, don’tcha think?”

“True,” you mumble, feeling guilty that you’d even asked the question in the first place. I mean, of course his puppy would be old by now. He's had him ever since he was seven, for crying out loud!

“So, anyway,” you say as you turn around to continue your way up the hill you’re practically yearning to reach the top of now, “you just go hiking alone, then? Since Akamaru stays at your mom’s?”

“Mostly, yeah,” he replies as he follows suit. You try not to pay attention to how attentive you are to his presence all of a sudden. “Before, it was usually just me and Tam, but now that—”

You pretend not to notice the way he cuts himself off mid-sentence the moment he accidentally mentions his ex-girlfriend’s name. Pretend that hearing it doesn’t make your chest feel a bit too tight all of a sudden, and not from lack of air or your rather poorly prowess in physical fitness.

“Uh,” he fumbles.

“Don’t you get scared, though?” you continue as if nothing has happened, helping him out. “Hiking all alone?”

If he’s grateful for your assistance, he doesn’t show it, because now he sounds genuinely confused as he says, “What is there to be scared of, exactly?”

His question makes you come to an abrupt stop. You turn your head to the side so that you can look at him over your shoulder. “What do you mean, ‘what is there to be scared of’? It’s a forest, Kiba.”

“So?” he replies, sounding even more confused.

“Are you being for real right now?” The blatantly puzzled look that settles onto his face puzzles you just as greatly in return, now. 

Especially when he says, “I’m not entirely sure how you want me to answer that.”

“Well, I don’t know,” you say. “What if there’s, like… a bear, or something?”

He snorts at your idea, making you feel like you’re stupid for even suggesting a thing like that in the first place. 

“What?” you fuss, glaring at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, it’s just that there aren’t any bears in these woods, dummy,” he answers, the last word kind despite if it’s usually meant as something derogatory.

You scoff, rolling your eyes for the millionth time today. “And how would you know that, oh, wise, all-knowing one?”

Kiba pauses as he smirks, rather resting his gaze onto a spot somewhere amongst the tree line instead of you. You catch the slight flutter of a muscle in his cheek as he grits his teeth and exhales.

His voice is low, but confident as he finally says, “Because around these parts, sweetheart, I’m the biggest predator. And luckily for us, bears tend to keep to themselves instead of picking fights with something that is much, much bigger than them.”

You’re not entirely sure if you want to know how big he can actually get, nor how far he’s actually able to see with those wolf eyes of his as he keeps on looking off into the greenery. His expression is one of the most complacent ones you’ve seen in a long while. 

Still, you manage just enough bravery to swallow the thick saliva that’s now started to gather inside your mouth so that you can ask, “So you’re saying that you can take a bear in a fight? Like an actual living, breathing bear?”

“I mean,” he drawls, shrugging in such a nonchalant way that it only pisses you off further, “it wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your eyes open wide as your heart drops to your fucking ass. “What?! Are you serious?”

“No, I’m joking.”

Dead silence meets him from your side at his bad take on a prank. And Kiba — foolish, brainless Kiba — can’t help but start laughing at the look of pure, unhinged fury that starts to twist your features now. It makes your nostrils outright flare like a bull’s that’s been irked for far too long.

He gets startled when you start stomping towards him, though.

“I’m sorry—” He begins walking backwards to cause more distance between himself and the wrath that is you, laughter still escaping his lips. “I didn’t think that you’d actually—”

You’re too angry at him to notice how good his balance actually is. He doesn’t trip once despite the fact that he’s blindly walking backwards on uneven terrain; much less loses his footing or actually falls over.

His abnormally honed sense of stability only drives you more mad. By the time you finally catch up to him and shove him by pressing both hands against his chest, the startled little yelp he lets out in response is barely satisfying.

“Hey, don’t do that; I’ll fall!”

“Good, because that’s what I was hoping for!”

“Oh, c’mon… Hey!” He comes to a stop, grabbing you by the wrist when you try to strike him for a second time. “I told you I was sorry, didn’t I?”

“Sorry? Sorry? Oh, go fuck yourself, you absolute dick,” you snap at his half-assed apology and are practically gritting your teeth whilst trying not to pay mind to how his touch practically sears your skin. “I hope a bear actually does come into these woods just so it can maul you into a million tiny little pieces!”

“Aha… I’d like to see it try.” His eyes burn like a furnace when he says that. It’s even worse when he yanks on your wrist and pulls you closer, as if to prove a point.

The fire within subdues your own flames in an instant. It makes you lose your edge.

“You— You— Ugh!” The slight upturn of your nose almost comes across as snobbish as you whip your head away from him in one sharp movement and shove him again with your free hand, causing his grip to break free, but not because you want it to. “Go away.”

Watching you with profound amusement, Kiba thinks all your worrying is to die for.

Nothing’s really changed, now has it?

And as a result, the smile in his voice is almost unbearably audible as he hurries after you the moment you start walking again. Your pace has become much faster than it was before, but he has no trouble whatsoever in catching up. 

He’s right behind you as he says, “I was just fucking with you a lil’ bit, can you blame me?” 

“Oh, yeah,” you retort coldly, still not looking at him. “I most definitely can.”

“Christ, don’t be like that, bunny,” he says, nudging you in the shoulder with the help of his palm. 

The touch, mostly platonic and what you’d consider meant to be purely reassuring in nature, nevertheless causes your entire body to end up becoming overly tense instead. This is the second time that goosebumps outright tighten your skin as his fingers slide down and graze your shoulder blade, as well as one of the backpack’s straps before letting go. 

It’s hard to walk the path like a normal person, when every time he touches you feels like he’s leaving you burning in his wake.

“Are we cool now?” he asks when you don’t bother replying. You simply can’t.

“No, we’re not ‘cool’, you moron. Fuck you,” you answer when he nudges you for a second time, still fuming. Better yet, you’re the exact opposite from cool.

“Mm,” he hums, seemingly deep in thought. You think that he’s finally going to leave you alone, however, much to your dismay, not even a minute of quiet passes before he’s opening his mouth again, asking, “Wanna tell me why you’re so mad?”

“Gee, I wonder; maybe because you’ve got me losing my shit in the middle of the goddamn woods?” You scowl at him before pointing your gaze back onto the ground so that you can avoid falling onto your ass at the worst moment. “I mean honestly, how stupid can you get to even ask me that?”

“Well—”

“Don’t answer that!”

“Okay. Okay.” Kiba forces himself to stop the slight, upward curl of his lips at your agitated tone. This is not a laughing matter; or at least that is what he keeps telling himself for your sake. “What do you want me to do, then?”

“I want you to go away,” you repeat, exasperated at how he’s obviously fighting every urge to laugh at your bitter attitude. 

As is expected, he pays you no mind and instead keeps following after you like he’s a dog tied to a leash that your hand holds. You can hear his footsteps trailing closely behind. “And where am I supposed to go, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, frowning. “Just go!”

“But I don’t wanna.”

“Well, I don’t give a shit.”

“Well, I don’t give a shit that you don’t give a shit.”

“Fine!” You huff, a certain kind of tightness in your expression when you look at him. “Fine. I’ll go, then!”

“And where are you gonna go, huh? There isn’t a single inch of these woods that I don’t know like the back of my hand.” He looks at you, his eyes glimmering with a subtle yellow shade instead of their usual brown. “I’ll just track you down like I always do.”

With the expectant, borderline mischievous look he dares you with now, he reminds you of an overexcited puppy. 

Damn him. You’re not sure if you’re irked or envious by how unpredictable and free-spirited he is.

It only makes you angrier.

“I don’t know, Kiba,” you fuss, looking away and pinching the bridge of your nose to save yourself from getting flustered all over again. “Probably somewhere far away from you, because to be completely honest, you’re annoying the utter, living crap outta me right now, okay?”

He stares at you for a couple of seconds, paying mind to the way your voice cracks midway. You’re clearly upset, frustrated, perhaps even overwhelmed by the way he keeps one-upping you with every sentence.

It prompts him to walk closer to where you stand. To lean into your space, carefully reach out and pry your hands away from your face so that he can give you that same look that he’d given you all those years ago when he’d been sick and you were swinging by his house every single day after school. 

The one that’s completely, utterly riddled with an emotion you cannot bring yourself to understand even to this day.

“God, what do you want now?” you ask, your gaze still persistently avoidant.

“I want to apologize,” he says, this time completely serious. When you look up, he continues, “I know that I can be… a lot to handle at times, and—” 

You purse your lips, mumbling under your breath, “Yeah, well, a lot is an understatement when it comes to you.”

He chuckles, huffing a laugh. “Okay, smartass; shush. I wasn’t done talkin’ yet.”

You glower at the way he shushes you, but otherwise keep silent.

“Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. I also know that it drives you up the wall when I’m a lot, so… yeah. I’ll tone it down, but you also gotta stop worrying so damn much, okay? It ain’t good for ya.”

“What do you mean by that?” you ask.

“What I mean is that you’re just always actin’ so goddamn uptight, bunny; I can sense it! So just… try and relax for once, yeah? Allow yourself to enjoy something that’s a lil’ bit spontaneous. Go fuckin’ crazy, go wild; all that good shit, ya know?” he says, and all of a sudden he’s resting both big palms on your shoulders, shaking you gently as if trying to rid you of your nerves. “Deal?”

“I wasn’t… worrying.” Your heartbeat quickens at the doubtful look he gives you next. “But yeah. Yeah, okay. Deal. Going crazy, going wild; woo…”

You’re soap-sliver thin. Transparent. Ever the complicator. That ‘woo’ was pitiful.

But it’s a start.

“Attagirl, there she is,” he says as he ruffles your hair and fixes his backpack back into place. It encourages you to do the same with your own while he slips by you and walks a couple steps ahead, letting you breathe again. “Now let’s go. We’re almost there, but I wanna get the tent ready before the sun gets the chance to set.”

“Tent?” you mumble, following after him. “As in… singular?”

“Yeah?” This time it’s his turn to look at you over his shoulder. “What, did you think that I was gonna carry two of ‘em on my back? We’re sharing; it’s easier.”

Thump, thump, thump!

“Oh. Um.” You swallow hard as you rub the spot where your heart lies with a sweaty hand. “Okay.”

He’s quiet for a second. And then he asks, “Does that make you uncomfortable…? ‘Cause at the end of the day, I can always sleep outside. I just thought it’d be—”

“No, we’re good,” you say, cutting him off. “I don’t mind.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like we haven’t slept together before,” you say. And nearly choke on your own words. “Wait! Wait, I-I meant like, you know, like back when we were younger.”

Thump, thump, thump, thump!

God, you’re thankful that he’s walking ahead of you so that he can’t see you experiencing your meltdown.

Kiba seems to ignore your little hiccup, because all he says now is, “Positive?”

You take a deep breath. Exhale. Clear your head just enough to ask, “What’s with all the questions all of a sudden…?”

“Nothin’,” he mumbles, his posture straight. “I just wanna make sure you’re cool with it.”

“Yeah, well all it’s doing is making me feel nervous again.”

“Oh, shit; okay, okay!” He turns to look at you again, his eyes wide. “We’re relaxing, we’re chilling… Look at the pretty nature, look at the trees! So zen, right? Real ‘live, laugh, love’ type of shit right here, yes, ma’am!”

Eventually, his rambling makes timid laughter echo throughout the forest.

What an idiot.

———

Ever since you’ve set up camp and settled on the small clearing on top of the hill, you’ve learned three things.

One, the stars are a beautiful sight that stretches far and beyond the inky sky when there’s not as much light pollution present to dim them out. 

Two, your best friend is a master when it comes to putting up a tent and starting a campfire.

And three, he can also whip up some really, I mean really mean s’mores.

That last one is why you’re practically humming whilst you sit by the fire that night; dressed in your favourite hoodie and continuously licking droplets of melted chocolate off your fingertips with utmost delight.

With his dark irises adorned with dancing orange flames, Kiba’s eyes can best be described as blazing when he looks up at you.

“Whath?” you mumble, mouth full of marshmallows.

“Easy there, tiger,” he taunts. “Leave some for the rest of us, will ya?”

“Leave me alone,” you answer just as lightheartedly when you swallow. Finally willing yourself to relax, your voice sounds muffled because of how you pop the tip of your thumb out of your overly-sweet mouth, “As if you didn’t eat like six of them already.”

“I ate six ‘cause I’m a big fella with an even bigger appetite,” he counters immediately. “What’s your excuse?”

“Well, if you must know,” you brush him off with a rather sassy flick of the wrist. “I’m ovulating right now and it makes me hungrier than usual.”

Just as you’ve expected, Kiba splutters and nearly drops the bottle he’d just been drinking water out of. A series of coughing and choking noises ensue that make it very hard to hide your satisfaction.

By the time he manages to collect himself, you’re still musing. “You okay there, Inuzuka?”

“Christ,” he says, his voice so hoarse that it forces him to clear his throat for a second time around. 

“What?”

“Nothing.” He swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing like always. “It’s just that you don’t have to be so upfront about it.”

“Um, okay…? I was just joking, you know... Didn’t think you’d take it as seriously as you did.” Your upper lip quivers as you let out a quiet, almost self-deprecating laugh at the look of guardedness that crosses his face when you speak the words. 

It’s almost like he’s conflicted about how to act around you all of a sudden. 

And it’s also the reason why you can’t help but ask, “What’s the big deal, though? Does it gross you out or something?”

“No. Gosh, no,” he immediately says and for a second you swear that there’s a blush tinging his already sun-kissed cheeks when he turns to look at the fire instead of you. 

He seems to be struggling with finding the right thing to say as he runs his hands up and down his knees and brings them closer to his chest. “You know I’m not like that. It’s just that… well, I don’t wanna think about it, is all. About you, in that kind of way, I mean.”

He can’t risk it because he can still remember the scent of it from way back when he was seventeen. Can still remember how dangerously good it smelled it to him.

God, you were so alluring to him. You still are.

“Oh.” Ouch. You don’t realize that you take his words the wrong way, so they sting you in the place where your heart supposedly lies. Nevertheless, you still manage to smile like the brave girl you’re trying to be as you say, “Well, luckily for you; you won’t have to, because I haven’t ovulated in like three years or so, hah.”

He perks up as his eyes shift back to you. “What’s that supposed t’mean?”

You shake your head, wishing to move on from the conversation but this time he strangely persists, pestering you to give him an answer even if he’d been the one acting weird about it earlier.

So you finally oblige, “Well, uh, I’m on birth control.”

He tilts his head to the side like a dog. “Why?”

Your brow furrows. “What do you mean ‘why’?”

He looks at you like you’re dumb. “Why are you on birth control?”

“Because I don’t want to get pregnant while having sex…?” you trail off. “Isn’t that supposed to be obvious?”

His eyes widen, dark brows shooting up so high that they could touch his hairline. “You’re fucking someone?”

Now is your turn to be taken aback. “I-I mean… I used to, yeah.”

Displeasure turns Kiba’s stomach into a pit of despair. He realizes that he’s not very fond of the idea of someone touching you like that. “When? And who?”

“I’m not telling you that!”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to talk to you about my sex life!”

“Why not?” he repeats, still oddly intrigued, almost nosy. “I can tell you all ‘bout mine if you tell me ‘bout yours.”

“Hell no.” You whip your head forward, glaring into the fire whilst grabbing the nearby stick that you used to roast — or should you say burn — your marshmallows with before. Poking the embers with it, the frown that’s on your lips only deepens now as you watch the sparks dance up into the night sky. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll pass on listening to you talk about all your failed sexual conquests.”

He chuckles with what you think is amusement, but the sound is oddly strained. “What makes you think that they’re failed ones?”

You purse your lips. “Well, you’ve broken up with Tamaki, didn’t you?”

“I broke up with Tam for other reasons,” he mutters, his smile wavering for a slight second. “The sex had nothin’ to do with it.”

You don’t want to tread these waters and besides, it’s better to keep things light. So you sit straighter as you stick your tongue out at him, taunting, “Or maybe it’s just your insanely small dick that’s to blame, did you ever think about that?” 

“Oh, yeah, bet. It’s definitely small, all right.” Kiba huffs a laugh at your jab. And then he leans slightly closer; not too close, but just enough for the proximity to feel slightly more intimate than platonic. 

His pupils are so big that they remind you of two vortexes as he whispers, “Wanna take a look just to make sure?”

Sinful thrill erupts within your gut at the closeness and his rather sly comment. It shakes you to your core even if you don’t want it to. So with your train of thought becoming all fucked up and wacky all of a sudden, you turn away from facing him, feeling the heat from the fire kiss your already much too-warm cheeks.

With your voice merely above a murmur, you sound like you’re almost out of breath as you utter, “You’re so gross.”

“Eh,” he shrugs and crosses his arms behind his head as he pushes further back against the log you’re both leaning against with the provided comfort of your backpacks. “You’re used to it.”

“What I am,” you say, side-eyeing him, “is traumatized.”

“Oh, boohoo.” He pretends to pout, closing his eyes, “Big bad Kiba keeps on bullying me. Poor, poor me.”

You giggle, poking the embers again. “Remember back when Sasuke used to bully you in elementary?”

“Tsch.” You watch as he clicks his tongue, his eyes still closed. “That Uchiha twink definitely did not bully me.”

“He kept on saying how your teeth were too big to properly fit inside your mouth.”

“Mhmmm,” Kiba drawls, crossing one ankle over the other. His eyelids flutter open slightly, the orange glow from the fire further complimenting his tan skin and dark hair. “And then, if memory serves right, I bit him for it.”

“And then you bit him for it, yes,” you echo, stifling another giggle. It makes your shoulders shake as you tug on the sleeves of your oversized hoodie. “Oh my gosh, remember how pissed Mr. Umino got at you for that?”

“I think I got like two weeks of detention for it,” he drawls. “It was worth it though... I never liked Sasuke all that much for some reason.”

“No, I think it was more like three weeks than it was two? Because I remember having to walk back home from school all alone every day and thinking how it was taking ages.”

“Yeah?” He turns slightly so that he can look at you from the corner of his eye. “You actually remember that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask.

“Uh,” he blinks, his expression turning blank. “‘Cause instead of paying attention to the pain and suffering of your best friend, you were probably way too busy actin’ annoyingly obsessed with Sasuke, just like every other girl was doing in our year?”

“What?” Your eyebrows knit together at this newly-acquired information. “I wasn’t obsessed with him!”

Kiba turns to give you a look that outright spells bullshit.

“Come on,” you glance at him, head hanging low. “Don’t gimme that look.”

“What look?” he answers, still giving you that exact look.

“The one that makes me feel like I’m lying.”

The corners of his lips quirk upward. “But you are lying.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Ugh.” You scoff, playing with the strings on your hoodie. “Fine, maybe I did have a little crush on him. You can’t really blame me for it, though! Sasuke was, like… devastatingly pretty, okay?”

“So that’s your type, huh?” he asks, his foot dancing along the rhythm of a silent song you probably don’t know. “Pretty boys? Sorry, devastatingly pretty boys?”

“I don’t have a type,” you counter, ignoring his jab.

“Sure you do.”

“I seriously don’t.”

“Everyone has a type, though.”

“Not me.”

Kiba falls silent for a moment as he stares into the fire. You pass the time by watching the flames dance across his cheekbones; along the dangerously sharp line that is his jaw. His eyelashes are thick and long, and the curve of his nose is delicate and slightly upturned at the end.

He looks like he’s still deep in thought by the time he finally says, “Well, maybe you just haven’t found it yet. Your type, I mean.”

“Yeah,” you reply, unable to stop staring at his side profile. “Maybe.”

Or maybe, just maybe, your type is right in front of your nose.

———

What you also learn after stomping out the campfire and clambering inside the tent that night, is that even though you’ve slept in the same bed countless of times before, the entire ordeal is much different now that your best friend has gotten bigger.

Because instead of laying beside you like he used to do back in the day when you were kids, Kiba somehow ends up fully surrounding you this time.

He’s everywhere all at once, his presence and that warm amber scent filling every last inch of the small tent you’re both currently residing in. Being so close to him, practically wrapped in his embrace and with your back firmly pressed against his chest, feels oddly familiar even if it’s currently being executed for the sole purpose of keeping you warm throughout the night.

But it’s not quite the same, now that you’re adults, now is it? 

It’s almost… inappropriate. In some way at least.

“Should’ve brought warmer clothes with ya, bunny,” he mumbles at some point, his face so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath brushing the back of your neck. “You’re practically shiverin’.”

His drawl — even more prominent now that you think he’s half-asleep — makes your blood want to boil, and not out of anger. He talks to you like he’s trying to get into your panties, but you know that that’s not the case. 

He’s made it pretty fucking clear that he wants nothing to do with you with the whole ‘being too upfront’ situation earlier, after all.

So you take a deep breath to calm yourself — and hopefully whisk the confusing thoughts away that are doing more harm than good — before you murmur, “Yeah, and whose fault is that?”

He chuckles as he gives your stomach a single stroke, the sound lazy and laid-back just like the movement is. “Mm… I believe it’s mine.”

“No shit.” You sigh as you curl yourself tighter and shift even closer to his chest that is providing you with all this heavenly warmth you simply can’t get enough of. “God, I can’t believe that I’ve let you talk me into going camping in just my leggings and an old hoodie… I knew I couldn’t trust you.”

“Hey, now,” he objects, “you can trust me. I just forgot that regular humans can’t handle the cold as well as I can.”

“If I could trust you, I wouldn’t be freezing my ass off in the middle of the woods right now, Kiba!” You whine, annoyed. “Ugh, you’re always so reckless and never stop to think things through. Nothing’s changed.”

“That’s fair, I suppose,” he mutters into the dark, lips a firm line of seriousness. He always finds you so cute whenever you get pissy and say his name like that, but something with your sentence doesn’t sit right with him this time. “But I’m trying to fix it, aren’t I?”

“Well, so far you’re not doing that good of a job,” you pout in answer. “I’m still cold.”

Silence settles between you for a couple of moments. The only sound you can hear, or should you rather say feel, is the strong beating of his heart as it drums against your spine.

It turns a bit erratic by the time he says, “I’ve got an idea.”

You roll over to look at him. “What kind of idea?”

“Hear me out,” he says. “How about you take off your—”

Nearly choking on your own saliva, you try to ignore the way his quickening pulse makes your tummy tighten as you rush to cut him off with a high-pitched, “No!”

“Just hear me out, will ya?” Kiba’s voice fades into nothing as he rests his chin on the top of your head. He’s mumbling as he says, “If you get undressed, it’ll be easier to—”

“Nope! Nope, nope, nope,” you squeak out, quickly shaking your head, making him pull back slightly. “Absolutely not.”

“But you didn’t even let me finish!”

“And I don’t need to, because I know exactly where this is going,” you chide, brow furrowing so prominently that there’s a small v etching itself into your forehead, now. “I am not getting naked with you under the pretense of sharing body heat.”

No way in hell are you about to fall for one of his jokes again. They just leave you hanging in the end, looking desperate.

“Oh, c’mon; why not?” he says, voice so genuinely curious that it almost makes him sound innocent and free from any intent to scheme whatsoever. His fingers dig deeper into your hoodie as he adds, “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t already seen all your bits and pieces before.”

You push away from him so that you can face him instead, supporting yourself with the help of your palms. The inside of the tent is dark, so dark that you can barely see the outline of him, but you just know that he’s smiling; the little shit.

“Those bits and pieces, as you’ve so kindly called them, have changed a lot since we’ve last shared a kiddie pool, Ki,” you mumble, feeling heat growing up your neck and down your middle. It takes all the effort in the world to not let it slip to that tingly place between your legs, especially because there’s a calm rumble of a laugh thundering inside his chest, now.

“It’ll warm you up faster,” he pushes. “That’s all I want, I swear.”

“No thanks,” you refuse, fighting the urge to not shrivel up and simply die from embarrassment. “I’m perfectly content with waiting for your wolfy heat to reach me through the many, many layers of our clothes.”

“You sure?” he asks. “‘Cause it’s gonna be a long night.”

“Yep.”

“Absolutely sure?”

“Yes!” You squeeze his arm, digging your nails into his dark green hoodie as if in warning before you turn your back towards him again and shuffle closer. “Now shut up and go to sleep already.”

“‘Kay,” he relents at long last, sighing. “Suit yourself.”

“I sure plan to, thank you very much!”

“Aha.”

He’s uncharacteristically quiet as he settles back into the folds of your unzipped sleeping bags that you’ve overlapped just so that you can be conjoined together into a mess of limbs. And as a result, the silence to follow is so heavy. It succeeds in making you jittery as hell, as if the chill didn’t help with that already.

“Stop moving around so much, I’m tryin’ to sleep,” he fusses by the time it’s your third time switching positions and pushing further up against him. Unlike before, he sounds like he’s actually agitated now.

“I can’t help it if I’m cold,” you whine, rubbing your feet against his calves. 

The feeling of your socks gaining friction against his sweatpants is nice for you from the way it steadily creates warmth, however for Kiba it’s an annoyance that seemingly has no end.

It’s the reason as to why his tone comes across as an irked hiss when he says, “Yeah, well, that’s not my problem, now is it?” 

“But it is,” you reply, still running the soles of your feet up and down his legs. “You were the one who kept on saying that a hoodie would be just fine to wear.”

“No, I– Can you stop doing that already?!” He grunts, poking you in the side and causing you to jump. “You know damn well how much the whole feet thing pisses me off.”

“Well, wanna know what pisses me off?”

“What?”

“Being so cold that my teeth are practically chattering.”

“All right, that’s it.”

Your breathing staggers in the back of your throat as you watch him sit up so that he can start taking his hoodie off. He reaches for the back of it, strong back flexing as he pulls it over his head and throws it into one corner that’s to your left.

The white t-shirt he wears underneath gets tugged along, riding up his spine slightly. And goddammit, it’s hard not to ogle at him; hard not to leer at all the tight, defined lines of muscle paired with the contrasting smoothness of tan skin, at how his dark hair tickles the nape of his neck now that it’s all ruffled. 

But maybe if you’re sneaky with it, he won’t be able to tell? And besides, it’s pretty dark anyway and—

“Stop staring,” he says like he’s reading your mind. “There’s drool drippin’ at the corner of your mouth already.”

You gulp in response to being caught by his exceptional night vision. The sound is loud and embarrassing as it travels down your throat, at least that’s what you’re thinking. 

“I wasn’t— God, you’re so pretentious,” you manage to let out. “I’m just trying to figure out what you’re doing, you prick.”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m getting undressed,” he replies casually as he repeats the same set of movements and takes his T-shirt off as well. “And judging by how much you’re complaining about the cold, I suggest you do the same before you freeze to death.”

You bite into the inside of your cheek to stop your upper lip from trembling with stress. “I already told you that I’m not doing that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

Something changes inside him at your denial. It makes him sound more tense as he says, “Can you please stop making a fuss for once and just do it?”

“No.”

“C’mon.”

“No, Kiba.”

“Fine, then freeze,” he quips, suddenly snappier than usual. His blood feels like it’s simmering. Wait, has it always been this hot in here?

Upset, cold and sticky, flashes throughout your chest at his seemingly careless words. “Okay, maybe I will.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

You glare at each other, fire and ice present in a single look.

“For fuck’s sake,” he says, trying to tame the persistent flutter of a muscle in his cheek that just won’t go away now. “Why do you gotta be so stubborn all the time? It’s like you’re actively searching for reasons to fight with me every chance you get.”

“That’s not true. You just don’t like it when I don’t comply with what you want,” you spit back, narrowing your eyes. “You’re the stubborn one.”

Another beat of silence passes between you and he uses it to inhale a deep breath and exhale it out just as slowly. It looks like he’s trying to calm himself, fighting every urge not to snap at you again.

“I’m just looking out for you,” he counters finally, his features unbearably tight. “I want what’s best for you, that’s all.”

“Oh, please.” You force out a laugh that doesn’t come from the heart. “As if you know what’s best for me.”

“And you do?” He looks at you, brows raised in challenge. “‘Cause how the hell is getting sick just because you’re too big of a pussy to take your shirt off the thing that’s best for you?”

Your toes start to curl with irritation under the layer of the sleeping bag you’re still tucked into. “I’d rather be a pussy any day, than an obsessively controlling alpha asshole who can’t take a no for an answer.” 

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from the control freak herself,” he says, nearly copying the same bitter laugh you’ve let out earlier. “You’re talking as if you don’t start acting batshit crazy whenever a single thing doesn’t go the way you imagined it to go.”

How on earth did this turn into an actual argument so out of the blue? Is he actually that irritated that you refuse to undress? Or is there something else to blame for all of this?

Either way, things are escalating fast.

Your face feels hot from all the mixed emotions you’re experiencing as you draw your blade and stick it into the place where you know it hurts him the most because he’s done the same to you, “I might be a control freak… You’re just a freak.” 

“You wanna talk to me about being a freak?” He laughs again, quieter this time but the sound is cold and sharp as ice. “‘Cause how can you call me that, if back when I met you, no one could even stand the sight of you!” 

He sucks in one breath, two, three before he continues, unable to stop, “No one could even talk to you. Do you remember that? Not until I stepped in, at least. So call me a freak all you want if it makes you feel any better, princess, but at the end of the day, I was still the one who put you out there while all you did was feel sorry for yourself.”

“You didn’t do shit!” The anger that drops upon your unsuspecting mind is like a thick, red fog. It makes your voice rise higher as you say, “All you’ve been doing for all these years, is breathing down my neck!”

“It’s not like I fucking chose to do that, goddammit!” Kiba snaps, voice suddenly gruff, heart pounding. His pulse feels like it’s racketing behind his teeth as he grits them so hard it makes his jaw hurt. “I mean, do you actually think that I want to spend the rest of my life wondering where the fuck you are and what you’re doing, when you can’t even put in the effort to text me back? Do you think that I want to keep being your friend, when you don’t even—”

“I didn’t ask you to!” You push forward, getting all up into his face as hurt sears the inside of your chest, making it heavy. “I didn’t ask you to be my friend, I didn’t ask you to keep trying to stay in touch, I didn’t ask you to keep monitoring me like some fucking psycho! I didn’t ask you to do any of those things.”

“You not asking for it is not the fucking issue, all right!” His face contorts into a look of prominent displeasure, the bridge of his nose scrunching. It’s clear how much you’re pissing him off; it’s making him say things he otherwise wouldn’t.

“Then tell me what the issue is!” You inhale, your own breathing quick and unfulfilling from how emotional you’re getting. It feels like you can’t suck enough air into your lungs no matter how hard you try. “Enlighten me, Kiba, please! Because quite frankly, I have no freaking clue what you’re going on about right now.”

“The issue,” he finally says, eyes bleary with fury and disdain, “is that I’m stuck with you. And guess what, you get to leave. I can’t. You get to fuck off to the other side of the goddamn country completely unfazed after every summer, and I can’t despite trying, because I’m feeling every mile of distance that separates me from you and it makes me fucking sick!” 

The words are like a waterfall to spill from his mouth, he can’t stop them. “You get to meet new people, you get to befriend them and sleep with them and love them, all while every. Single. One of my relationships falls apart because I’m stuck thinking about you, and only you. I mean Jesus fucking Christ, I’m thinking about you whenever I go to sleep, when I go to the gym, when I go to work… I was even thinking about you every time I fucked my girlfriend, who is now my ex, thanks to you!”

He ceases, breathing hard through his nose now, opening his mouth to say something, then thinking better of it.

Meanwhile, every single muscle in your body goes weak, almost numb. His stare is feverish and remains glued to your face; it makes you feel like you’ll drop dead any second now despite the fact that your stomach is doing cartwheels and high-pitched white noise progressively fills your ears. 

If there wasn’t a humongous lump jammed inside your throat, you’d perhaps be able to tell how dry your mouth has turned all of a sudden. 

But you don’t. So it’s no wonder why your voice cracks as you at long last look at your childhood best friend, the person you’ve always trusted the most, and ask, “So, you’re in love with me? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Hah,” he snorts, the sound completely unenthusiastic. “I wish it was that simple.” 

“Then what else is there?”

“I’m bonded to ya, sweetheart.” His stare hardens. “You’re my mate. Always have been, always will be. Congrats.”

Thump, thump, thump!

“Mate?” Your heart nearly breaks your ribcage in half from how intensely it starts to pound at the word. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means… It means that I’ve longed for you ever since the first day I saw you, okay? God.” He groans, running his hand down his cheek, then the side of his neck. His skin has become so slick with sweat that it causes his fingers to glide. “And it means that I’ll still long for you no matter what you do, or how far away you go, or who you end up with... You’re a part of me. And I can’t do shit about it.”

His words make your head swim. It’s hard to concentrate because of it, the rising nausea only making things worse, but you still manage enough willpower to ask, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t—...” He inhales a long breath again, only one this time. And pulls a face you can’t read. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured by it… Like you were obligated to be with me or something, just ‘cause I was having a bad time.”

“So instead you decided to be my friend for all these years? So that I could have my chance at freedom and you’d still have a reason to be near me?” Disappointment flashes throughout your brain like lightning. You feel played. “Does that mean that our entire friendship was, like… just some ploy to help you get closer to me or whatever?”

“Fuck no.” His shoulders slump as he practically succumbs to the weight of his own body. The world feels like it’s spinning all of a sudden. “The bond had nothing to do with that; well, maybe at the start, but definitely not afterwards. I was your friend because you were actually cool to hang out with, despite being kind of a dork. Even if you were my mate, you were still smart, and nice, and… and…”

And it’s only then, when you close the gap between yourself and him to catch him, that you realize how high his body temperature has gotten. How his skin feels like it’s blazing underneath the tips of your fingers when you press your hand to his chest on pure instinct. How the blush that tints his cheeks is stark red; intense enough to even reach the tips of his ears and the base of his neck.

His blood has always run hot, you know that. But never like this.

Never like this.

It’s even worse than back when he was ‘sick’.

“Shit… Are you feeling okay? You’re burning up all of a sudden. Like, even more than usual.” Your voice trembles on the words as you speak, low and worried. It’s like the entire argument is forgotten in a blink of an eye just because you’re sensing that something isn’t right with him.

“No.” Much to your surprise, Kiba gives you a hard smile when you look up into his face. It’s covered with a thick coat of sweat again even if he had wiped it away just minutes before. “I’m not okay.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I think…” He pauses, letting out a pained sound that’s almost like a mix between a grunt and a whimper when you cup his face with your hands. “I think that I’m slipping into rut.”

“Rut?” You blink when he takes your hands into his own and hurriedly pries them away from his face, your eyelashes batting against your cheeks. The sudden rush of adrenaline that courses your veins when he starts to let you go makes you feel like you’re hollow inside.

So you cling onto his hands. If anything, they’re keeping you warm.

He breathes in again, every breath strained. “You need to stop touching me. It’s making it worse.”

Your brain feels like it’s turned to mush all of a sudden. All you can do is do as he says and whisper, “Oh. Y-yes, okay. Okay.”

“Fuck.” He scrubs his hand over his face for what must be the third time now, continuously wiping the liquid salt that just won’t stop oozing out of his pores. “Fuck. This is so fucked.”

Your eyes feel like they’re bulging from how concerned you are. His constant swearing isn’t helping the situation. “What is?”

“This whole night. Everything.” He looks away, clearly ashamed. Parts his lips so that he can breathe through his mouth instead of his nose, but it just makes him taste you on the flat of his tongue instead. Drool seeps as a result. “I wasn’t even supposed to go into rut for the next couple of weeks at least, maybe even a month from now... I think your scent might have triggered it.” 

After all, you’re sweet as summer honey. Honey made just for him.

And being this sweet, it’s no wonder that he’d subconsciously lured you out into the forest and away from other people under the pretense of catching up. No wonder that he had pinned you down with a single look in the middle of a grocery store as soon as you showed even the slightest hint of requited feelings. That he’d been getting impatient, had been getting jealous at the mention of other partners, had even nearly tried manipulating you into getting naked with him — something he’d never thought he’d sink so low to, for fuck’s sake.

All while the rut just stacked one symptom on top of the other.

This entire trip, every single one of his actions, every word, every look had been mere preying. Mere circling whilst getting ready to go in for the kill. After all, you’ve been gone for years, leaving him stranded. Catching a mere whiff of your scent — of his mate’s scent — after such a long time had been like an awakening for the beast within; a push for it to take over.

And that beast is ready to come out now. It’ll claw a way out of him if need be. He didn’t even realize it until now. 

Utterly blinded by instinct, he’d been played for a fool by his own psyche.

“Kiba?” you whisper his name cautiously, pupils still big as saucers as you repeat, “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” He exhales shakily, ignoring your question. “I-I need to get away from you before I—”

“What? You can’t leave me here! What the fuck,” you stammer out, eyes opening even wider in the dark. Ignoring his warnings, you clutch onto him again because he’s simply your only pillar right now. Rut or no rut. Whatever that means.

“Well, I can’t stay here,” he snaps in answer and now you can hear the mumble appearing between each word. His already humanly-questionable incisors are growing elongated now, turning into fangs and changing his pattern of speech. “You have no fucking idea how aggressive I get if I don’t get what I want during a rut; what you saw earlier wasn’t even the half of it. And I can’t... I won’t let you see me like that. I don’t want you to think—”

“I won’t think anything of you, I promise! Just… just please don’t leave me here. Please,” you quickly blabber out even if you’re not sure who the words are meant for; you or him. “Just tell me what you need.”

“No way.” He’s practically panting, every breath still continuing to be laboured as he says, “You’re not gonna like it.”

“Just say it.”

“It’s so fucking embarrassing, though.”

“Goddammit, spit it out already!”

“I—” He falters, huffing, only stressing you out further until he finally says, “I need to cum.”

The white noise that had just eased a bit inside your ears immediately gets replaced by the deafening ringing of your pulse. Did you just hear that right? 

“H-Huh?” is all you can let out as a result.

“I need to cum to make the rut ease up,” he explains impatiently, voice breathless, hoarse. He looks at you, the vein in his neck bulging as his jaw clicks into place again. “Fucking hell… M’sorry, I’m so sorry… for everything. You don’t gotta do anything if you don’t wanna, I’d never force you but— fuck, it’s so fucking hot in here. I can’t breathe.”

The moment you see him start losing his composure again is the moment that you spring into action.

“Here, let’s just… take it easy for a bit.” You blink profusely, trying to gain control of the situation as you ease him onto the pile of sleeping bags. “Breathe in nice and slow, yeah?”

“No,” he grunts out, tensing again in an instant. “That makes it worse.”

“Oh, right. Right. Sorry.” 

Moments pass, all of them feeling like ages even if it’s only a second or two, perhaps three. You spend them all by watching him like a shark in water, not sounding quite like yourself as you force yourself to step out of your comfort zone for once and utter, “Let me help you.”

“What?”

“Let me help you with the whole… uh.” Your rare, spontaneous decision makes your head want to hurt from all the anxiety it’s causing. “Cumming part, I mean.”

“No.” His cheeks glow red as he swallows hard. “You seriously don’t gotta. Like I said, I’d never—”

“I know,” you cut in, giving him a look of what you hope looks like determination instead of pure anxiety. “I know you wouldn’t. Besides, there’s no need for that because I want to, okay?”

Kiba frowns, looking the most exasperated you’ve ever seen him be. It makes his voice unusually quiet and small as he whispers, “Why would you?”

“Want that?”

“Yes.”

“I want to because you’re my friend,” you say and it’s the truth. “And I don’t care what it is that we gotta do to make you feel all right again, I’ll always help you out because of that, okay?”

“But I’m a shitty friend. I don’t deserve you helping me out; I don’t deserve you,” he counters. “I mean, for fuck’s sake… Look at the shitshow that I dragged you into just now.”

“You made it sound like you didn’t know this would happen, though,” you argue back, growing more backbone with your tone. “Did I understand that right?”

His teeth sink into the inside of his cheek, instantly drawing blood from how sharper they are than they used to be. He hisses, licking the now aching spot, tasting iron. “Yes.”

“Okay, then let me help you,” you try again, unrecognized greed and the bond you can’t feel not as nearly as deep as him pushing you forward hand in hand. “Yeah?”

Kiba looks at you for a long while. His eyes have gotten so dark that they look like they could absorb you whole when he finally opens his mouth to say, “Yeah.” His eyelids flutter shut for a brief second as he shakes his head, as if chasing the doubt away. “Yeah, all right.”

With his approval acquired, the couple of seconds to follow are like a blur. You don’t know where the sudden burst of confidence comes from as you coax him to lay on his back, but you’re happy it’s there because it keeps your hands somewhat from shaking.

“Come to think of it, maybe we shouldn’t—” He stiffens, the words catching in his throat from the way his cock automatically starts to twitch in his sweats because of the way your unsure touch travels down his stomach, now.

His dark happy trail tickles the tips of your fingers, caramel skin still so hot that you’re surprised he’s still conscious and capable of forming thoughts. 

“It’s okay, shh,” you soothe him even if your heart feels like it’s climbed up your throat again when he immediately pushes himself up with the help of his elbows so that he can look at you. You’re both trying so hard to not stare at the obvious tent in his pants. “I’ll, um… I-I’ll take care of it, okay?”

Your best friend’s chest heaves with every fast breath. All he can do is nod, the discomfort obvious as he says, “Okay.”

God, he sounds so uncomfortable but desperate for it at the same time. You force yourself not to look at him as you kneel beside him, feeling sweat gathering on the nape of your neck. Just a little while ago you were cold. Now, you’re burning up from how quickly he’s warming up the small space.

“Will, like, a handjob be enough…?” This entire thing is insane. Surreal.

You’ve gone from zero to a hundred just because he’ll go off the rails otherwise.

“I, uh, I think so?” His fingers curl, fisting the smooth material of the sleeping bag. He clutches it so tightly that it makes his knuckles turn white as he adds, “I mean, that’s what I do when I’m alone.”

“You jerk off during a rut?” The image of him stroking himself makes your stomach tighten and your throat turn scratchy.

“So many times. Ugh.” Heat spreads throughout your body at the groan he lets out, but it also warms his face into an even deeper shade of red. Talking about these things might be embarrassing right now, but it eases the tension. So he continues, “Sometimes I even have to take a couple days off work just so I can keep fuckin’ my fist, hah.”

The look on your face makes him inhale a sharp breath through gritted teeth.

“Too much?” he asks, that same look of dread overtaking his features once more.

“No, no,” you reply hurriedly, running two now-trembling fingers along the waistband of his sweatpants. The way his toned stomach trembles in response turns your mouth painfully dry all over again. “I just… I thought you’d rather venture out to find somebody to sleep with during a time like that. So that you can, you know… make it pass quicker or something.”

“Oh. Well, I did try to do that. But it didn’t go so well,” he answers, staring at every movement your hand makes with heavy eyelids. “Here, lemme… help you out ‘cause we gotta speed things up a bit. I’m so sorry… God.”

Your breath hitches when his too-warm hand cups your smaller one and wraps it around the prominent bulge in his sweatpants without any sort of hesitance, but with palpable urgency instead. 

He curls your fingers around the ridge of his clothed cock until you can feel out the shape of it. And then he stills completely, giving you time to pull back if you change your mind about the entire thing despite that every cell of him wants to roar.

But you never do. 

No, instead all you do is succumb to the moment and start to stroke him the way he’s shown you — slowly at first.

“Fuck, okay… That’s it,” he whispers, broad shoulders tensing at the touch. His fingers twitch, tightening their grip on the sleeping bag.

The praise is like a flame and it licks your skin. Feeling how big he is getting under the cotton now, how fucking huge he’s growing, makes your saliva thick and your voice wobbly as you whisper, “Like that?”

“Mhmm, yeah.” He sighs before yet another curse spills past his parted lips. There’s drool gathering on the surface of his sharp fangs by the time he urges you on. When he swallows it, it’s audible. 

Somehow, it succeeds in making you feel better, more relaxed. The fact that he’s just as nervous as you are helps. 

So you let your lips quirk upwards briefly as you say, “Now you’re the one that’s got drool dripping from the corner of your mouth, huh?” 

“Yeah, sorry.” He huffs a laugh. “This whole thing is pretty new to me. Makes my body act all sorts of weird.”

You blink. “A handjob is new to you?”

He shakes his head, looking down at his lap with a blush so prominent that it makes his entire face tingle. “No, I meant like a mate’s touch.”

“Oh.” You offer him a nervous smile, readjusting yourself on your legs. “Well, um… enjoy it while it lasts, hah?”

Kiba doesn’t say anything in answer. Neither do you. Maybe he’s afraid of what this will mean for your friendship afterwards. Maybe you both are. But with each passing minute, you slowly ease yourself into your sinful ministrations. Your strokes turn less rigid, the hesitance replaced with cautious intent, but intent nevertheless.

The waistband of his sweatpants gradually slips lower and lower down his hips as you keep going. A glob of your saliva gets involved; transferring from your pursed lips, to your palm, to his cock that has finally been freed from the too-tight confines of his clothes and is now being spoiled by skin on skin contact.

Even if Kiba remains in his — mostly — human form, you soon learn that werewolf cock is vastly different from a human one. In the dark, you can’t see it quite well, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t feel the difference. 

It’s bigger, harder, hotter to the touch than any you’ve previously had. It throbs and practically leaks pre-cum, nearly making you think that you didn’t even have to spit into your palm in the first place. In fact, it’s so lubed up that there are wet, almost squishy noises by the time his hips start to buck upwards and he starts fucking your fist.

You’re hovering over him, your face merely inches away from his own from how close you’ve gotten during the entire ordeal. If you thought he was panting before, now he’s nearly hyperventilating as he rasps, “F-fuck, mm… faster. Go faster, bunny. It feels s’good.”

His voice has turned into a growl of some kind; it’s the lewdest you’ve ever heard him speak. Because even with all the dirty jokes, and the questionable looks, and the sometimes too-long hugs which you’ve exchanged throughout the years, Kiba has always, always been respectful of your boundaries and limits.

But he really pushes that limit, really steps on that already thin line when he suddenly rests his forehead against your own and asks, “Are you gonna let me kiss you?”

Your thoughts turn fuzzy in an instant at the request, as well as at the nearly non-existent proximity. This isn’t about helping him out anymore, this is about feelings. Feelings that you’re very much still trying to understand. 

And feelings are dangerous, when you know that being friends is best for you. After all, you’re so different from each other — polar opposites. But you feel the invisible link that connects you to him now a bit better than you did before, feel it tugging you towards him; closer and closer, even if you’re merely human. Every touch makes it stronger and alters your brain chemistry, alters the way you see him.

It feels like you’re gradually starting to share every breath, like your heartbeats are aligning and will keep on aligning all until they’ll start to beat as one. Like you’re fusing together; he’s becoming you at the same time you’re becoming him.

You have no clue how he’s managed to endure all of this for such a long time, surely feeling it at least ten times stronger than you do. And in a way, it’s scary. All these emotions are making you feel overwhelmed and the worst part is that they’re not nearly as deep yet as his are.

You stare at him. He stares right back with dark eyes full of what you think is good intention. 

Your lips quiver as you whisper, “Do you think kissing is a good idea?”

“It’s just a couple of kisses, bunny,” he answers way too fast, quietly whimpering when your thumb swipes over his sensitive cockhead, turning tacky because of the bead of pre-cum there. He’s so needy that he feels like it’s going to kill him. The rut has outright cooked his brain by now, and that makes him pushy — he’s warned you about it. “It’s not like it’s gonna change anything between us.”

You look at him again, still sceptic. Your grip around his cock tightens as you think. “I dunno...”

“C’mon. Please, please, please,” he urges, feeling even more hot and bothered and desperate at how godly it feels when you stroke his cock. Up and down, up and down, up and down — he’s going to go batshit crazy. “Didn’t you tell me that you were gonna be a bit more spontaneous tonight? Hmm?”

You stare at him from underneath your lashes, feeling just a little less doubtful from how he pleads for it. Despite being perplexed about the entire situation, his uncharacteristic rambling and babbling and the constant need to challenge you proves to be like a push forward that you need in order to press your lips against his own.

So you gather your courage and lean in. And of course, he meets you halfway in an instant — even faster than that. 

The kiss itself is messy when you connect. It’s more so a clash of teeth and swapping of runny saliva, than it is a loving peck. He craves for you so bad that before you can even take a breath in, he’s nudging your bottom lip with his tongue, trying to make you part your lips a fraction wider; to part just enough for him to slip his tongue inside.

You let out a little ‘mmph!’ sound at how intense he is with it and how he cups one side of your face with his hand, literally forcing you to open up for him by pressing his thumb underneath your jaw.

“Hey—”

And it’s the opening he’s been looking for. He pushes his tongue inside, gliding it over your front teeth, tasting the roof of your mouth, exploring it like he’ll never get another chance to do so again — perhaps he won’t, who knows? 

So he hits you like a tidal wave and kisses you like he’s planning to eat you — it’s riveting as much as it is intimidating. Spit gets swapped with each sloppy kiss that gets shared between you now, some of it bridging the small gap between your mouths whenever you push him back just enough to come back for air. His large canine teeth bump against your own normal-sized ones. The occasional click! is enough to make your blood run hot.

And surprisingly, in the midst of all this chaos, you realize that kissing him feels right. It’s by no means romantic or a profession of love, but it is natural and synchronized in its own peculiar way. Somehow, it even makes sense. Like parts are connecting, like the image is getting clearer, like puzzle pieces are falling into place.

All those feelings that you’ve shoved down and blinded yourself from for literal years are rushing to the surface now. You feel like you’re going to burst.

In a way, Kiba feels the same.

“I, ah… I think m’gonna cum soon... Kissing you feels so hot.” He groans when he feels you falter, body tensing at how low his voice has gotten. His cock is nearly pulsating in your palm by now and he has to remind you to continue by helping you out with his own hand. “Fuck, keep goin’, keep goin’. Don’t stop now; I didn’t tell ya to stop, did I?”

Flustered and incredibly overwhelmed by everything that is happening, you do as he says because following orders — even frantic, growly ones — is familiar and comforting as a result. 

You let him sloppily fuck your fist as you tighten the hold of your fingers and loosen your wrist so that he can get what he needs to bring himself to his finish. All while he’s practically shoving his tongue down your throat, kissing you with such a burning passion that it feels like you’ll be engulfed in flames and turned into ashes any second now.

Heat steadily builds up within Kiba’s stomach. Sweat pours out of every pore all over again, making his hair stick to his forehead. His toes curl, his balls tighten. His throat gets all scratchy and dry. His brow furrows so deeply that it gives him a headache as he squeezes his eyes shut and just feels.

“Yeah… Just a lil’— fuck, yes, yes…!”

You go faster. And when he finally does tip over the edge and cums, it’s insane. 

His movements spasm, broad shoulders tense up to the point of pain. And then he’s literally growling into your mouth; making your lips and the inside of your throat vibrate as he becomes undone.

Your heart stutters at the sound. And when you feel his warm, sticky seed steadily fill your hand, it begins to dance inside your chest.

After all, there’s a literal fuckload of it, perhaps even more. His release dribbles past your knuckles and soils his sweatpants. It gushes out of him, ropes of it, all tacky and cloudy white and potent. You’ve never seen a man produce so much cum, especially not because of you. 

The sight, no, the feel of it makes you rub your thighs together as you squeeze every last droplet out of him. Before you know it, there’s a tingly sensation growing in intensity between your legs. A certain kind of heat pooling at the apex of your thighs, a certain kind of stickiness that causes your underwear to cling to your most private part.

Unsure of the reason as to why his pleasure affects you so strongly, the presence of your sudden arousal takes you by surprise and thus only makes you even more nervous as your core temperature scales higher, higher, higher.

You flinch when he kisses the corner of your swollen, kiss-bruised lips. Your cheek. Your neck. And it’s in that spot, where the curve of your shoulder starts, that he finally rests his sweat-riddled forehead and croaks out a very exhausted and very grateful, “Thank you.”

Kiba sags before you can reply, resting a great part of his weight against you and nearly making you stumble backwards because of it. Despite all of the confusion that riddles your mind at that moment, you can’t help but simply hold your best friend upright, repeatedly weaving your clean fingers through his now-damp hair in meek attempt of soothing him.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, trying to ignore the way your stomach feels like it’s doing flips. Who knew you had such an effect on him? Or he on you? “You’re okay. I-I mean, you’re messy, but you’re okay.”

Long moments pass. It’s hard to tell in the dark how much time has passed exactly when your phone is nowhere to be seen, but judging by how your fingers are still tacky with his now mostly dried up release, it must have been a couple of minutes at least.

“God, I didn’t think there'd be so much cum, heh... My bad,” he grunts at some point, pulling you out of your thoughts with the way he rubs the sweat on his forehead into your hoodie. Before you can scold him for it, he’s already back to burying his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and trying to tame his breaths. 

His exhales are warm and ticklish. They make you snicker as you try to push away from him, hiding the sensitive spot with the help of your chin. “What’re you doing?”

“Sniffin’ you,” he answers with a matter-of-fact tone, as if it’s the most normal thing for a person to do.

“Well, stop it! I already told you that it’s weird back at the store.”

“Ahh, but you smell so good.”

Another smile kicks the corners of your lips upward. You’ve always liked the little compliments he gives you. This time it’s no different. “Do I, now?”

“Mhmm,” he nearly purrs, nuzzling his nose even further into your neck until he’s got it practically smushed against your pulse point, causing it to wrinkle slightly at the bridge. “It’s sweeter than usual though, your scent. How are you feelin’?”

Ba-dum.

“Oh, you know,” you mumble, trying to ignore the way your heart skips a beat. Can he tell what you’re experiencing? “A bit overwhelmed by everything that’s happened just now, but I’m fine otherwise... I think.”

A little moment of silence ensues. You’re just about to tease him and ask if he’s done interrogating you when he rasps, “You’re sure? ‘Cause I can definitely smell something other than ‘fine’ and ‘overwhelmed’.”

He sounds different again. More gruff. More tense. More demanding of an answer. 

It makes you feel cornered all of a sudden.

Before you can move, he pulls back just enough to press the side of his face against your own as he waits for your answer; perhaps giving you the comfort of avoiding eye contact, perhaps just to feel more physical touch — you don’t know. 

So, you’re cheek to cheek, now. Chest to chest. Muscle to muscle. The distance between you is nearly non-existent as you each stare at opposite corners of the tent. 

His stubble scrapes your face. Wasn’t he clean-shaven just this morning? 

Your breath warms his shoulder as he utters, “Well?”

“Yeah,” you answer as the slight prickle in your cheek yanks you back from the haze that is your thought process. Your voice is once again as wobbly as your legs are getting. It’s hard to concentrate when he’s so close. “I’m sure.”

“‘Kay,” he trails off, still not convinced. “How ‘bout…” 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Kiba leans down to press his lips to your neck again and leaves another tender kiss there, sending shivers down your spine. “Now?”

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum!

You’re quiet, but your fingers tangle into his dark hair as you latch onto him for support in a mere instant, even you’re surprised by it. The way you can feel his sharp canines grazing your throat is exhilarating. Brain working purely on autopilot, you tug at the roots at the back of his head the same moment as your eyelids flutter shut. You simply can’t help yourself.

Perhaps this bond that he’s been telling you about isn’t something only he can experience, after all.

“And now…?” he utters so softly that you can barely hear him over the sound of your quickening pulse. His hand glides from between your shoulder blades, down to the small of your back and goddammit, his palm is so broad; it’s almost comical how big of a portion of you it manages to cover. “How do you feel now?” 

“Good. I feel… good,” is all you can answer with this time. Your voice sounds so small as his touch travels over the curve of your ass and rounds the corner by landing on the front of your thigh instead. 

You don’t fail to notice the way his calloused fingertips start to glide upwards now that they’re on your leg. The claws, that must have replaced his nails at some point when you weren’t paying that much attention, drag against the stretchy material of your leggings; playful, taunting. 

It’s all so slow. Deliberate.

The sudden burst of adrenaline that rushes through your veins and nestles deep inside your belly makes you fidgety, but he keeps you nice and steady by holding the side of your head with his other hand. 

Those claws are at your inner thigh now, only inching higher.

Higher, higher, higher.

And his lips are right next to your ear as he whispers a what you could only call an exceptionally needy, “Yeah?”

“Yea-ah!” A little gasp that’s more of a moan than anything else slips out from the way he unexpectedly cups your clothed pussy into the palm of his hand.

“Scent doesn’t lie, bunny,” he says, chuckling darkly. “You should keep that in mind when you’re around someone like me, y’know.”

Shit. You’re in for it now, aren’t you? His touch is scorching hot again even through the two layers of clothes that separates you from him.

It only spurs you into action, almost making you start to grind against him as you arch your back and press yourself closer.

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum! 

Your heart feels like it’s on the verge of giving out.

“We should stop, K-Ki—” You don’t succeed in saying his name fully when he applies more pressure to make you reconsider. 

The heel of his palm presses right against your clit this time. Breathless and unsure if it’s done on purpose or merely by some lucky accident, you jolt, trying to squeeze your thighs together.

He catches you when you sag against him, much like you’ve previously done when he had been the one struggling to stay upright. And surprise, surprise — he’s hard all over again. Ready to go for round two, his cock starts poking your thigh whenever you move, leaving little splotches of sticky pre-cum there. 

It causes a second heatwave to hit you as filthy thoughts begin flooding your mind. Pussy dripping at the mere idea of him attempting to push that fat, monstrous cock inside you, you let out a little sound of panic when he presses his finger right on the spot where your tight little hole is hiding under the leggings.

“Oh, you liked that, huh?” You can’t see it, but he smirks into the dark; fangs glinting with the wolfish grin that’s gotten so conceited that it hurts. “Look at that… Lil’ bunny is getting all worked up from a bit of heavy petting.”

“Am not!” you stammer with feverish need, licking your lips as your nails dig into his scalp and you grab yet another fistful of his chestnut-coloured hair. “Stop teasing me… I-I’m just— Ugh…”

“I’ll stop if you let me take your clothes off already so that I can lick you and fuck you like you obviously wanna be fucked,” he says, rubbing tight little circles right into that little button that makes you feel like there is electricity running through your veins, not blood. “How does that sound? Or are you just gonna keep grindin’ that little pussy of yours into my hand for the rest of the night?”

Before you can answer, he slides up and down your slit, making your cunt eat up your underwear and leggings, shaping it out. Your knees buckle as you rest all of your weight against him, trusting him that he’ll hold you upright.

But the problem is that he doesn’t. Instead, Kiba uses the hand that he’s holding the side of your head with to help lay you down. 

Until you’re right underneath him.

And just like that, he’s on top of you, breathing in your scent with almost a sense of urgency whilst his hand still keeps on rubbing that overwhelmingly sensitive spot between your legs. Keeps on provoking it and keeps on making you so horny that you’re barely any better than a cat in heat.

With every stroke, he’s making you hot and bothered all over again. Making you buck your hips to the rhythm of his fingers. Making you sweat and whine and borderline sniffle as the upcoming tears of pent-up sexual frustration sting your waterline.

You’re about to go batshit crazy if he doesn’t do something other than pet you.

So it’s no wonder that you whimper and allow him to undress you one piece of clothing at a time, until you’ve got nothing else on but your colourful socks and your plain cotton panties are dangling from one ankle. That you let him kiss you down your neck and chest, until he’s nosing his way between your legs and licking you with that inhumanly coarse tongue to his heart’s content.

That you let him feast upon you like a man starved even if he is more monster than man; until your legs are trembling around his head and you’re seeing stars behind closed eyelids. That you let him devour your sweetness and inhale such deep, long breaths of its scent, despite that you’re feeling slightly embarrassed about it after telling him that you’re all ‘sweaty and gross’ down there after the hike, and he’s assured you at least a million times that he likes it even better that way.

And it’s no wonder that you let him spit onto your pussy as he kisses up your thigh and hovers above you, then, before he bends your legs so far back that your knees are nearly touching your ears. That you let him fold you into a mating press and align his cock with your sticky cunt at long last, his fat cockhead prodding at your tight hole that just won’t stop fluttering at even the slightest intrusion.

“Imma pound you s’good. Gonna make you cream on my cock, gonna do all of that nasty shit that I wanted to do to ya for s’long,” he babbles, his stare so ardent that it pierces right through your heart even if he’s not focused at all. The second wave of his rut has already contaminated all his thoughts and consumed him entirely. All he can think about is slamming you to your breaking point.

“Kiba, wa—…. wait,” you mewl, eyes wide open as you stare up at him. With his back hunched and his biceps flexing, every muscle and cord strained to withhold his weight, he’s gotten so big that he can barely fit inside the tent anymore. 

How in the hell is he gonna fit inside you?

“Please, I need it. Need it so, so, so bad, fuck,” he drawls almost like he isn’t completely present, his expression all dazed and stupid from how he keeps on staring between your legs. He nudges you again as he says the words, his cockhead catching against your sticky entrance once more, making you squirm. “Your cunt smells so fuckin’ sweet; it’s driving me nuts... I gotta push inside you, bunny, okay? Imma push in.”

You tremble in response, hips wiggling, legs opening a fraction wider to give him even more space because of how persistent he’s getting. When you look up at him through hooded eyelids, all you can see is how his slits for pupils dilate at the sight of the silvery string of arousal that clings to his cock now, connecting him to your cunt.

Your pussy is so wet — it’s practically drooling.

Consequently, it makes him drool, too. Saliva nearly drips down Kiba’s canines all over again.

“Just the tip, okay?” you whisper, trying to calm your heavy-pounding heart.

“Jus’ the tip, yeah,” he murmurs back with that fang-induced mumble, still so pussy drunk that he’s nearly brain-dead. His irises have turned yellow; they glow in the dark as he looks at you and says, “Jus’ the tip and nothin’ else.”

You stare at him with big, watery eyes. “You promise?”

Kiba huffs a laugh despite the fact that he looks like he’s barely keeping himself together. “‘Course I do, sweetheart.” 

Hearing him promise, you nod, and thus give him the approval that he’s been practically dying to get. “All right… But go slowly, okay? ‘Cause I’m scared.” 

“Slow, gotcha. Gonna go so slow that it won’t hurt one bit.” 

With a heartbeat that’s damn well working overtime by now, Kiba softly grunts when he finally presses into you, causing you to instantly flinch and wiggle your hips for a second time to try and accommodate him better.

“Keep still, will ya?” he chides, his patience leaving him for a quick second. “You’re twitchin’ all over the place like you’re an actual rabbit.”

“I’m trying! And shut it.” He keeps on pushing at your fussing, turning your voice higher in pitch as you say, “Shit, shit, shit… I said slowly!”

He grits his teeth, eyebrows drawing together in concentration that he doesn’t have. “This is slow.”

“Well, I-I think that you’re going way too fast.”

“Stop naggin’ me already and relax.”

“Excuse me?!”

Your mouth opens, but before you can even begin unleashing the storm that is your newly-formed fury, he leans down to press his lips against your own like the little shit he is.

Moments pass, he keeps kissing you as a means to distract you from the fact that he’s slowly filling you with his cock. And eventually, with some sweet-talking and plenty of combined effort, your pussy gives in when he adds just a little bit of force to the push, letting him break past that tight ring of muscle that your nerves must be causing.

You’re so tight that it makes the hair on the nape of his neck stand to attention when he finally slips inside, but you’re also so sloppy and dripping wet at the same time that he isn’t worried about it too much.

After all, from the way you push your head back now, pointing your chin upwards and exposing more of your neck that he feels the need to wrap his hand around and stroke it with the help of his thumb, you seem to be enjoying yourself just fine.

Nevertheless, concern — that he feels for you at all times — crosses his tight features. He’s barely holding it together, and here he is; looking out for you as he asks, “You doin’ okay?”

“Mhmm, yeah,” you utter, tensing when his touch moves from your neck down to your tits. 

He quirks a brow as he squeezes the fat of your breast and runs his thumb across your nipple this time, making you shudder. “But?”

You give him a pointed look. How can he always tell that there’s something hiding behind the reassurance? “But, you’re just so… big. Concerningly so. I’m worried about how I’m gonna take it all.”

He muses as he mocks the sound of your voice and says, “What happened to ‘just the tip, okay’?”

You huff, pouting. “Don’t make me keep it that way, you prick.”

“Okay, okay, m’sorry,” he says hurriedly, pressing what must be the hundredth kiss onto your lips. “I’ll be good, just don’t make me pull out, please.”

“What about you? Are you doing okay?” you ask, caressing his cheek with your palm. The way he instantly leans further into your touch makes your heart not only dance, but also sing. “I know this must be especially hard for you.”

“I’m fine,” he mumbles lamely, convincing neither of you. And then he sighs at the way you roll your eyes at him in answer. “I just… I want—”

“More?” you suggest.

A prominent blush sears his cheeks. Since when did he blush so much? He’s also sweating like crazy all over again as he says, “Yeah.”

“All right.” Carefully, you nod your head yes once more as you remind him, “I’ll give you more. But slowly, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. How he doesn’t puncture the rosy skin with the action, you don’t understand. “I’ll go nice n’ easy on ya. Cross my heart.”

Well, he’ll try at least.

And Kiba does try to go nice and easy, he really does. But it’s hard for him to keep his cool when the beast keeps on howling in his veins and the bond that chains him to you screams at him to brand every last inch of your skin and soul alike.

He’s nearly trembling all over by the time he sinks balls deep into you and his dark pubic hair kisses your clit.

But at long last, you’ve become one.

“Fuck.”

“That feels so—”

“Good. That feels so fuckin’ good, goddamn.”

“I-I’m so… full.”

“You’re welcome.”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

“What d’you think?” 

“I think—”

“Woah, look, I’m even makin’ your belly bulge a bit.”

“Ew, ew, ew! That’s so gross.”

“What? No, it ain’t. I actually think it’s kind of cool-lookin’.”

“Stop poking it!”

“Nu-uh.”

Your ankles cross at the middle of his back when he presses his hand to your tummy, colourful socks scraping tan skin. The way you clench around him when he digs his fingers into the bulge makes Kiba wish he had the ability to purr.

“Move,” you squeak out, breath hitching at how the tip of his cock has managed to snuggle right next to your goddamn cervix. “Need you to… move. It’s too much! Kiba, please.”

He tries not to show how happy he is to do as you tell him, but fails with the way his entire face literally lights up as he says, “Like this?”

“Yeah,” you answer quickly, savoring every last bit of friction he gives you now. The rhythm he’s chosen is surprisingly laggard, even if he looks like he’s just about to start bursting at the seams. “Y-yeah, like that.”

Kiba likes the way you sound when you’ve got something fucking into you at a steady pace, but it’s even better that that something is him. Now that he thinks about it, the tone is pretty similar to the one you used to have after every gym class back in high school.

God, did he like seeing those tight shorts on you every Wednesday. Good memories.

A proper moan — the first amongst many — suddenly leaves your mouth, coaxing him away from his trip down memory lane and urging him to make you keep talking, talking, talking as he asks, “You need me just as much as I need you, don’tcha?”

“Pfsh. I never said… that,” you drawl with a click of a tongue as your breathing picks up. Every time he draws his hips back and pushes them back into you feels like he’s reshaping your entire goddamn cunt. Not an unpleasant sensation necessarily, but it definitely takes some time getting used to. 

“‘Kay, but listen to all this noise you’re making now that I’ve stuffed your lil’ bunny cunt full,” he says, his eyes glowing with mischief and that sublime yellow colour. “Bet no other man could make you sound like that, huh?”

They’re lazy but deep, the thrusts. Filled with intent. With arrogance and urgency that hides just beneath the surface, waiting to pounce. They reach parts of you that you’ve never even thought could be touched. They make slick dribble down his balls, until it’s all dripping right onto the sleeping bags you’re fucking on top of.

It’s all so audible and loud. Messy. The occasional sound of skin slapping against skin. The wet squelching noises between you. The constant whimpering and his growling grunts, steadily growing in volume.

And you’re going slow.

“Yeah, well that’s ‘cause you’re no man, you dummy,” you bite back when you’re more familiar and comfortable with each other and the connection, trying to be witty even if it’s hard to keep your mind from breaking into shambles.

“Is that so?” He’s breathing hard, picking up his pace, going harder. “Then what am I?”

A dazed smile curls your lips. “You’re a dirty, dirty dog.”

Kiba could agree with that statement to some degree, perhaps. Even if he dislikes the particular term you’ve used.

After all, you have no idea how he’s gotten himself off with a pair of panties that he’d swiped from your drawer and wrapped around his fist back in senior year. Or how he’d turned embarrassingly hard after almost every hug and had to play it cool even if he was sweating bullets from trying to hide the raging boner in his pants. Or how he’s fantasized and fantasized and fantasized; only watching porn with actresses that shared similarities with you because nothing else seemed to work.

You don’t have a clue about any of that.

And he hopes it stays that way.

“Hah.” An almost mean snicker leaves his lips as he unexpectedly slams into you, making you squeal out a particularly nasty curse and causing your pussy to outright gush at the intrusion. “Careful, sweetheart. If you keep on saying things like that, I’ll be more than happy to treat ya like the dirty dog you say I am.”

“Will you, though?” you challenge playfully, stroking down his back with the heel of your foot.

He sneers as he answers, “I will if you keep on testin’ me.”

“But I thought you said that you’re bonded to me?” 

“Yeah,” he says. “So?”

“So, doesn’t that mean that you can’t hurt me?”

He blinks, surprised. “Who said anything ‘bout hurting you…? I’d just mount you.”

Your expression copies his own. “Mount… me?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, temperature suddenly flaring up at the thought. “You know… the same way animals fuck.”

Heat creeps up your neck at the crude way he explains it. “Oh.”

Kiba’s lips quirk upwards when he catches a whiff of the subtle change in your scent. You’re flustered at the idea, smelling even sweeter now that there are no clothes to buffer the prominent notes of arousal. “I take it that you wanna try it?”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. A wave of sweat washes over you, toes curling. “What— No!”

“Oh, c’mon,” he pushes gently, helping you out. “Scent doesn’t lie, remember? You’ll like it, I promise.” 

“And if I don’t?” you ask.

He nudges your chin with the tip of his nose. “If you don’t, we’ll stop. Simple as that.”

“Okay, but can you stop?” You angle your head so that he can press a kiss to your cheek. “When you’re like this… under the influence of a rut. Can you stop?”

Silence hangs in the air as he pulls away to look at you, his expression suddenly somber despite the glaze of unbridled lust that still coats his unnatural eyes. 

“I’d never hurt you,” he finally says. “I’d rather die than hurt my mate, that’s why I was ready to leave before.”

Kiba’s voice is stone cold serious. The intensity he chooses to speak with so that he can get his point across causes butterflies to spring free inside your belly.

You can still feel them fluttering around by the time his clawed hands manhandle you into the position he wants. Laying on your stomach now, you let out a little noise of surprise when his weight presses you further down into the silky nylon of the sleeping bags the moment he tops you.

He’s heavy, taking the profound size difference into account, but you’re pleased to find out that it’s the kind of weight that comforts you instead of suffocating you. You feel warm. Safe.

“Can I…?” he trails off.

His exhale tickles the back of your neck, making the hairs there rise to attention as you shiver and say, “Well, that’s what I’m here for, aren’t I?”

“Oh, sorry, my bad,” he says. “I thought you were here for the s’mores.”

“Not funny— oh.”

Your back arches and your anger dissipates into nothing as soon as he begins to push inside you again, careful not to stuff you full too fast. After all, while it might be easier to fit him inside you this time thanks to your earlier endeavours, it still remains to be no small task.

He’s as careful and considerate as he’s able to be in the state that he’s in. He pushes gently, but pushes nonetheless. By the time he sinks into you to the hilt and pauses to give you a minute, you’re both panting like you’ve just ran a marathon.

“You doin’ okay, bunny?” he rasps, voice so low and growly that it really does make you think you’re getting fucked by an animal. Or a beast, if you’d have to specify it.

“Yep, mhmm…!” You squeak out, your voice so high-pitched that it must surely hurt or at least agitate his ultra-sensitive hearing. You’re happy that he can’t see the fucked out expression that sits on your face right now. “Doing a-okay.”

“Don’t try to run away, now,” he teases when you wiggle your hips, trying to readjust yourself. “Or else the hunting instinct is gonna kick in.”

“Not to worry,” you practically chirp, feeling your body slipping into a fever at the way his big, calloused palm presses into the small of your back. “I’m staying put.”

He chuckles at how submissive he’s made you sound, at how there’s a prominent sheen of sweat gathering on your spine. Gliding his finger down your dewy skin, Kiba catches himself wishing to lick you clean of salt, but at the same time he just knows that you’d cause a fuss about it if he’d even mention the mere idea of it.

So for the following minutes, he doesn’t speak.

And neither do you.

You can’t speak from how deep he’s pushed himself inside you, anyway. No, all you can do is moan and whimper uselessly as he then proceeds to fuck you, to make love to you, to break you apart just to reassemble you until you’re whole again; all in the position he likes best.

He makes you sweat. Makes you cry out to him as you allow yourself to get lost in deeply-rooted carnal pleasure and you need his help to bring you back to morality. At some point, his arm even ends up reaching underneath you and wrapping around your stomach just so he can hold your hips up when you try to crawl away despite telling him that you’re going to stay put earlier.

Judging by the way you’re reacting to him, Kiba guesses that he’ll have to carry you down the hill when morning comes. 

Meanwhile, you’re unsure if it’s the bond that’s making you feel this wild or the simple fact that he’s not entirely human. However, when you at long last feel yourself clenching around him, and when that tight, almost unbearable heat that’s inside your tummy finally spills free and spreads throughout your whole body, you realize that you don’t really care what the reason behind your sudden recklessness might be.

“Fuck. M’not gonna last long, sweetheart… No fuckin’ way that I’m gonna last when your cunt’s milkin’ me dry like that,” Kiba grunts out as he feels you gush and start creaming on his cock. There’s a ring of milky slick gathering at his base already — the sight and sound of it turns his thrusts jerky and irregular. 

“Don’t get scared of the knot now, okay?” His upper lip trembles as he swallows hard. “It’ll be there just for a minute, I swear.”

“Knot…? What’s a—Oh, my gosh, Kiba; I am going to fucking murder you!”

The sudden swelling you feel inside your pussy practically bullies its way up to your cervix as he hunches his back and gives you one last, final push. 

Your toes curl as the ‘knot’ — or whatever he calls it — plugs you, and also succeeds in making you entirely rigid in return. Every last inch of your body feels tingly from the foreign sensation as he lets out one final groan, that sounds more like a pained whimper than anything else, and simply fills you up to the brim with warm, thick, endless ropes of cum that paint your abused walls entirely white and simply refuse to spill out of you.

You stare off into the darkness, listening to his ragged breathing whilst trying to tame your own. Eventually, his cock softens enough for your cunt to not feel like it’s going to fucking explode from the fullness. And as soon as that happens, he drops down upon poor, unsuspecting you; feeling completely, utterly exhausted.

Your werewolf best friend is squishing you flat like a pancake and is spoiling you with messy kisses after fucking you like an animal in the middle of the woods. And you’re just… fine with that?

The realization makes you smile.

Maybe living your life on the edge for once and being a little bit spontaneous isn’t as bad as you think.

———

“I really hope that your pills can withstand all that werewolf cum I’ve just pumped into ya, ya know. ‘Cause otherwise we’re gonna be having an entire litter of pups.”

“For the love of god, can you please use your lowly developed frontal lobe for like a second of your miserable life, and just keep watch like I told you to?”

“This is pointless. There’s literally no one here besides us and a couple of deer.”

“Shush! I’m trying to pee and I can’t do that when you keep on running your big-ass mouth!”

“Words, words, words; I am saying so many words just so that you won’t be able to piss.”

“Shut up already!”

With his back turned towards you and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweatpants, Kiba fights back a laugh as he listens to you relieve yourself in the nearby tall grass. 

After fucking you close to stupidity nearly three times in a row now — and mounting you twice during those three times — the young werewolf feels somewhat content with himself at long last. 

He’s fucked most of the rut out of his system by now. Besides that, you’ve also talked a lot, apologized to each other, and cleared up some misunderstandings. He’s even managed to place a hickey on that spot on your neck where your scent is the strongest and where, he hopes, you’ll let him place an actual bite mark someday.

But for now, you’re taking it slow. On Saturday, he’s taking you out to dinner at that little restaurant by the lake that you’ve always liked visiting with your parents. 

And who knows, maybe after you share dessert together, you might even go for a swim so that he has an excuse to take his shirt off in front of you and you get to make fun of him for it, or whatever.

So lost in his thoughts and all the planning he has yet to start pondering through, Kiba barely hears the rustle of your footsteps when you approach him from behind. 

He tenses, whipping his head in your direction only a millisecond before you manage to put away your travel sized packet of baby wipes that he teases you for constantly carrying around with you, and you place your hand on his shoulder.

Your eyebrows rise up towards your hairline in response to his visible startlement. “Did I just manage to sneak up on the so-called ‘apex predator’?”

“You wish,” he says as he absent-mindedly brushes you off. “I could smell ya from a mile away.”

You frown. “That’s so mean!”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he drawls, sighing. “It’s just that you smell like me, now… It stands out.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” You stick your tongue at him, looking up at him with your hands on your hips. In the moonlight, he’s even handsomer than usual in that weirdly rugged way that only he can pull off. “Can we go back inside the tent now? I’m exhausted after the entire...”

“Fuckfest?” he offers with a tricksy grin.

“Shut it!” you chide before you shove your phone’s flashlight right into his face as punishment.

Back inside the tent, you don’t have any sort of trouble with undressing yourself in front of your best friend this time. Your hoodie and t-shirt are tossed off, leggings following soon after — until you’re curling up against his strong chest in nothing else but your socks and underwear.

His body temperature isn’t nearly as hot as it was before, but the skin on skin contact provides you with enough warmth to be comfortable as you turn around to face him.

Kiba’s hair is mussed and his eyelids are already hooded with upcoming sleep when he lifts them just barely enough to look at you. The rut really has taken a toll on him; on the both of you alike.

“What is it now?” he mumbles lazily.

“Do you think,” you start, swallowing hard. “Do you think that we’re going to be okay?”

He smiles, the quirk of his lips faint. “I know we will.”

“And our friendship?” you ask, pressing your palm against his chest. “Do you think all of this is going to ruin it?”

“Nah, I think it’s goin’ to make it even better,” he says, fixing a loose strand of hair behind your ear before he settles back. He yawns, rubbing his eye as he mutters, “Besides, we’re gonna take it slow. Just like you’ve said.”

“And you’re fine with that?” you ask.

“‘Course I am,” he replies sleepily.

“Why?”

“Because you’re important to me,” he says. “So if you want to go slow, we’ll go as slow as goddamn snails if we have to.”

You let out a little laugh that sounds like wind chimes to him. “You’re so lame.”

Kiba grins, his heart fluttering at the sight of your smile. “Not as lame as you.”

And maybe, just maybe, going steady and experiencing peace for a change isn’t so bad either.

tags: @his-sweet-minx @rookie98writes @qichun @redskyvenus @simply-chillin-here @shanjisan

[actual-changeling]

Welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner, and today I have something surprisingly not kiss-related—though it is still about the final fifteen because hey, gotta keep the brand image.

I read this post by @goodoldfashionednightingale and began typing a small response. Then I made the mistake of drinking half a litre of coffee on an empty stomach right after taking my adhd meds and my brain began vibrating at the speed of light.

But oh, have I discovered parallels. This, my friends, is about the nightingale, where it comes from, what it means, and what the fuck happened in part 3 of 1941.

Ready? Let's go.

Now, as OP said in her post, s1e3 is important. In the script book, Neil himself says that these flashbacks are where the producers would tell him to cut scenes to save money. They suggested every single one—except for the one he ended up taking out, which was the bookshop opening scene set in 1800. The others are building blocks, you need them to see how their relationship progressed and what kind of important milestones they had.

(side note: author is very miffed that english does not have a separate subjunctive form like german which makes quoting lines way more confusing than it has to be)

The one I want to mention is neither 1941 nor 1967. No, what I want to talk about is 1601. This might be about to get a bit rambly but I will do my best to keep it tidy.

The focus of that flashback is on the Arrangement, yes, but it gives us a lot more information than that.

they both see Shakespeare's plays regularly, maybe even meet in the crowd

Crowley prefers the comedies

Aziraphale does not seem to have a preference, he enjoys the tragedies and presumably the comedies too

there is an oyster woman selling food -> reference to their meeting in Rome when Aziraphale tempted him to try some oysters

Aziraphale reflexively denies their relationship

Crowley might say he is not worried but circles Aziraphale the entire time, keeping watch

they both ask favours of each other and both agree to do them

What stands out to me in relation to what I am about to expand on is the line that Crowley delivers after Aziraphale's little 'buck up'—which Crowley finds adorable btw but that's a post for another time.

"Age does not wither nor custom stale his infinite variety."

Why would he say that? What exactly is prompting this? WHY say that specific line?

At first I thought it might be to tempt Shakespeare because he does commit art theft by just copying that line down, BUT I think there is more to that. So much more, in fact. I am wiggling now because I am very excited about this and my adhd meds are kicking in anyway.

First things first: the line itself.

It appears in Shakespeare's play Antony and Cleopatra, a romantic tragedy, which was first performed in 1607 aka six years after this meeting. Enobarbus is talking about Cleopatra and describing why Antony won't leave her. Her.

Ccrowley uses his—again, who is he even talking about? Hamlet? Shakespeare? Random poetic quote?

No, I think this line is about Aziraphale and it's a code. Right after, the next line from Aziraphale is "What do you want?", meaning that this is their code phrase for 'I have a favour to ask of you'.

Age does not wither nor custom stale his infinite variety

Age will not affect his appearance nor will he ever become boring to Antony. Crowley, who later chooses the name Anthony for himself, tells Aziraphale, an immortal, that he will never age and that he will never grow bored of him.

It's flattery, pure and simple, and it's code at the same time. This establishes the important fact that they might use more of Shakespeare's work as code/already have a system in place (even though he steals Crowley's line for later).

They play their little morality game of back and forth, Aziraphale agrees, Crowley probably manipulates the coin toss, and THEN we find out that the oyster woman is called Juliet.

Why? What is the meaning of that? Why give her a name and that name in particular? Why bring the sexy oysters back into it?

Romeo and Juliet premiered in 1597, so it is safe to assume they have both seen it by 1601, but this is mostly for the audience, not for us-or is it?

Aziraphale gives Crowley puppy eyes until he agrees to make Hamlet popular, and while I don't think Juliet itself is a code word, although it's very interesting that the OYSTER woman is the one with that name (especially adding what we now know about Job), Romeo and Juliet might be.

Yes, the Nightingale song came out in 1940 but the bird has been around for much, much longer, and, as many probably know by now, also shows up in Romeo and Juliet.

This is where I am starting to vibrate at the speed of light because listen to me. Listen.

Crowley is Juliet. Anthony J. Crowley. Antony Juliet Crowley.

(side note: I'm not saying that Crowley chose it based on that—though I am not not saying that—but that it is a clue for us at the audience.)

Why do I think that? In the play, Romeo spends the night with Juliet and then goes to leave as the night begins to end. Juliet tries to stop him and tells him that the birds they are hearing aren't larks, which sing at dawn, but nightingales, which sing at night.

Who is the one always pushing for more? Crowley. He is the one trying to convince Aziraphale it's safe, they're safe to spend time together.

Romeo disagrees with Juliet and says 'I must be gone and live, or stay and die'.

Leave and stay alive, or stay and hell/heaven will punish us. It gets even better though.

We all know how Romeo and Juliet ends: Romeo thinks Juliet is dead, kills himself, Juliet finds him and then kills herself too.

Hey, do you know how Antony and Cleopatra ends?

Antony thinks Cleopatra is dead, kills himself and dies in her arms, then Cleopatra also kills herself—by snake poison; Romeo also died by poison.

The parallels are THERE. They are jumping down our throats! Two tragedies, two sides, several familiar names and phrases, same fear, same ending.

I think by now you can guess how this ties back to 1941.

We do not see how that night ends, but we know it ends. One of them wants to stretch it out, maybe even quotes Romeo and Juliet because look at the setting!

Candlelight, wonderful night they spend together, the threat of Crowley's early demise, and, to quote the play once more, this time Romeo: I have more care to stay than will to go.

Crowley thought it was his last night on earth and went with Aziraphale to his bookshop, to be with him, because he cares more about that than the fact that he will be dragged to hell come morning. Do you remember?

"Expect a legion to come for you first thing tomorrow" THAT is the threat. They have until dawn, just like Romeo and Juliet, which is why she is so desperate for the birds to be nightingales. Fortunately for them, Aziraphale saves the day, BUT there is NO SECURITY. They do not KNOW if a legion will still show up or not. If dawn is a deadline and they will need to fight.

Sure, they improved their chances, but who knows? Maybe they will come for him anyway, it's not like hell is all fair and square.

The best part: it gets even better.

Juliet eventually panics and tells him to go, and Romeo drops a line that huh, sounds oddly familiar, doesn't it?

'More light and light, more dark and dark our woes!'

Remind me, what does Aziraphale say again? Ah, yes. Perhaps there is something to be said for shades of grey.

There is more. Yes, even more. We know the whole rescue relies on a magic trick, a switch. Guess what Juliet yearns for while telling Romeo to go save himself?

Oh, now I would they had changed voices too. While they did not for Romeo and Juliet—they kiss and part—they did for our two. One fabulous switch and we're good.

(side note: Toads? Associated with hell. Larks? Associated with the dawn, yes, but also heaven since Romeo says 'Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat the vaulty heaven so high above our heads.')

So, this was a whole lot of information, let's see if I can summarize my thoughts.

I believe the nightingale is a code word that has existed even before 1941 and gained a lot of importance over the years. In 1941, the song is added to the meaning and whatever happened between the two that we have not seen yet, it fundamentally changed their relationship. Maybe they kissed, maybe one of them tried to convince the other to prolong the night but they parted on not-great terms.

The nightingale and the song become a symbol of hope, a goal to achieve, another uninterrupted night, maybe, or an uninterrupted life.

When they part in the final fifteen, it's morning. Crowley points at the sky and says "no nightingales", which at that point has several different layers to it.

No nightingales because their night is over, just like with Romeo and Juliet, and please, please allow me to add another detail, because I am frothing at the mouth over this. The scene I quoted, known as balcony scene, do you know what it is preceded by?

A ball.

Star-crossed lovers defying their sides, falling in love at a ball, getting a hurried, wonderful night together but torn apart by danger of punishment, the nightingale as a dream, as a wish for unhurried time together. Family rejection, torn apart by parents, willing to die for each other so they can reunite in death.

No nightingales. The ball, the romance, is over, their dancing is over, heaven is tearing them apart, and Aziraphale returns to heaven while they are both stuck in a pit of misunderstanding and miscommunication, all bound together by fear for each other.

The thing is, Crowley hates tragedies, he never liked the "gloomy ones", and he does not want them to end in one—luckily, this isn't the end. Yes, they kiss and part, but the play keeps going. We have an entire act 3 to fix what Romeo and Juliet couldn't, to ensure that this is a COMEDY, not a tragedy.

Both Antony & Cleopatra and Romeo & Juliet died out of fear, hurried into making bad decisions because they knew what would happen if their sides were to catch up with them.

Crowley and Aziraphale can reunite heaven and hell with love, not death. This is THEIR story and they are writing the ending. No more day and night, no more deadlines, no more hiding and sneaking about, no more fear of larks and sunshine.

Good Omens will end the way it began: In a garden with two no-longer-star-crossed lovers embracing the song of a lark as well as that of the nightingale.

I hope this made sense to everyone who was no present while my mind started to vibrate itself into a puddle because the thing is I can see Neil doing all of this completely on purpose.

Thoughts? Questions? Additions? Come and join me in my insanity and until next time I have a mental breakdown over this show (probably in like two hours).

[nexusnyx]

Me & Mr. Miller

au!Joel Miller x f!Reader [5.2k] summary: You and Joel had a deal to stay away from each other. The only obstacle is—neither one of you wants to do that. He might be the father of one of your closest friends and someone a few (many) years older than you, but... who cared. Not you. Not him. The deal wasn't going as planned. 📝 in this scenario the outbreak never happened! joel miller is doing just fine! If you enjoy it, reblogs and comments make all the difference. warnings⚠️ mature content—explicit depictions of sex, so minors dni. | 🏷️ age gap, misunderstanding, secret relationship, pining, strangers to lovers. Oral (f receiving), penetration (p in v), unprotected sex, dirty talking, love-making.

masterlist |

ㅤㅤㅤㅤTexas, Winter of 2023.

"Aw, shit, Joel. Fuck," Tess turned to him with her face twisted into a weird, panicked smile, and that's exactly when Joel realized he'd gone and fucked up again somehow. "You set me up. You set me up!"

"What?!"

"We could've at least told me you were inviting me to Sarah's birthday to be eaten fuckin' alive—is she still looking at me? Goddamn," the panic left for a second, replaced with a knowing smirk that he was unfortunately too familiar with. "She's got really nice eyes, I'll tell you that much. Were you gonna tell me I came here to make your girlfriend jealous? And really—is she still looking? 'Cause those are very intimidating eyes, and I'm gonna need to prepare myself."

There was no preparing to look into your eyes.

Joel would know.

He was done for the minute he laid eyes on you. The way you looked at him.

His hands started to sweat, and his mouth ran dry. He had to look. Gravity couldn't keep him from it.

"You know... a lot makes sense now," Tess starts.

"Don't."

Tess chuckles, hiding it in her drink. "Jeez—did you win her by blabbering her ears out? 'Cause I only got a single look into Miss Daggers for Eyes, but she looks—"

"Jesus Christ, I'm gonna regret having brought you, won't I?" Joel interrupts because he can't turn around as sharply as he'd like, and he can feel it already. Your eyes on him.

Tess stops hiding her laughter, "Oh, for sure. And only because I'm gonna make it very hard for you because you didn't tell me. Because you think that not talking about it makes things just... go away," she wiggles her fingers like dandelions in the sky, and Joel loves his best friend, but she can be a bit of a dick.

"I was gonna tell you," he sighs, fidgeting inside the stupid blazer; sipping his bourbon to ease the jitteriness inside his skin already proved to be a terrible fucking idea when in your presence. "I was—" and where are you? There are a lot of people behind Tess' shoulders and Joel could spot you in a football crowd.

"Jesus." Tess enunciates every letter. "Joel, find her so you can have your focus back."

"Just for the record, she isn't my girlfriend," he states.

Tess scoffs, and it says more than words could.

"She isn't," he presses.

"I believe you," says Tess. "But now I also know I wasn't crazy when I said you were happier last year after going to New York. You were. And Miss Daggers for Eyes—"

"She has a name."

"—is the reason. Does she? Does she have a name, Joel? Her parents are so kind for giving her one," Tess sasses. "I would know her name if you hadn't hidden her from me."

"I didn't hide anybody, there was nobody to hide. Also, can you shut up? You're louder than my thoughts."

The next laugh comes accompanied by a slap on the shoulder, and Tess walking away, but not before whispering in his ear. "Joel, buddy, I wholeheartedly believe you had the best intentions with bringing me here, but here's a tip you didn't ask for: Not one of you is as over whatever the hell happened as you may think. Talk to her."

Talk to her.

As if it was that simple.

As if there wasn't a deal.

Joel needs to find you, but first, he needs another drink.

He gulps down his glass and tries to smile as the guests pass him by. None of them seem to notice his imminent heart attack. None of them see through his carefully curated nonchalance, and he's happy about that.

There's already a person present who can see through him like glass, and he can barely deal with that one.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤNYC, Spring of 2022.

You stood no chance against him.

The first time you saw him, Joel looked like a Wes Anderson visual.

Pink suit, grey strands unabashedly mixed in his soft, shiny black hair, and a shy smile to put any of the other men present to shame.

You were drawn like a moth to a flame.

He looked quite serious without that beautiful smile on—he looked like someone who would, in fact, never wear a pink suit, so you walked over to him and slid right next to his spot at the bar. "That's a bold outfit choice," were your first words. You smiled when his eyes landed on you, so wide and filled with surprise; warm, and stunning like a hot summer day. "But it suits you."

Joel looked stunned for a moment.

He blinked, sipped his bourbon glass and his eyes did a not-subtle-at-all up and down. Then, he put down his glass and the corner of his mouth twitched with the idea of a smile. "I lost a bet," he answered. You recognized the southern accent immediately. "Believe it or not."

"Oh, I believe you," you chuckled.

"It suits me, though?" he asked, opening his arms to the sides.

You nodded. "It does," your peripheral vision caught Bruna approaching behind the bar, and you smiled at her. "Hi, babe. Can I get a caipirinha, please?"

"Hey, girl," she smiled at you and used all of her subtlety to glance at Joel observing the exchange. "Sure thing. Vodka, sake, or cachaça?"

"Bruna, you know there's only one way to do a proper caipirinha," you rolled your eyes.

Bruna smiled. "Cachaça it is, then. Lemon, or something else?"

"Hm, how about an unexpected fruit? Surprise me."

"You got it. Anything else?" she asked.

"Nope, just remember to drink some water. You always work too hard," you winked at her.

Bruna left to make your drink with a blinding smile on her face, and you turned around to find Joel staring. He leaned on the counter with his arm supported on it, and as soon as you looked at him he asked, "Where d'you two know each other from?"

You pointed at the huge banners of NYU standing behind you. "She goes there — I go there."

"You go to NYU?"

"I do," you answered. "Getting my phD, actually," your smile always came out at that.

Joel's face never hides his surprise, but the smile was unexpected and very welcome. "Wow. Congratulations."

"Thank you. I imagine you're here because of the Spring exhibition?" you looked around at the gallery where everyone around looked as posh as you and he did, save for the curious New Yorker just enjoying their walk.

"I am. My daughter has a paper on display on the third floor," he replied.

"Politics and Law area?"

"That's her," he confirmed.

"I have a few close friends in the department," you smiled. "It was my first stop."

"Are you here showin' something too?"

"I'm actually here as one of 'somethings' to show?" No matter how long in the business, talking about being the art itself was always surreal. Especially in front of otherwordly handsome and charming men. Where was Bruna with your drink when you needed her? "My roommate's exhibition won the main exhibit, and we — dancers — are her tool. Her paint."

"You're part of the main exhibit?" He looked every bit impressed, and you nodded, feeling giddy at the prospect. "Double wow. Wait—shouldn't you be backstage, then?"

"Oh, no, gods, no. This whole thing stays here all afternoon, the final piece is only at sunrise—6pm, kinda?"

"Okay. And do I get to know your name before you run off to become art or d'you plan on dropping a crystal shoe so I can roam around later tryin' to find out?"

That had been the first time he made you laugh.

Truly laugh; not a few breaths out of your nose or an easy chuckle—Joel was silly, and he looked like modern-day Adonis in the stupid pink suit that he only wore because of a goddamn bet, and you had no chance.

"I'm Joel," he extended his hand.

That had been the doom of it all—no last names. Only smiles.

You shook his hand and offered your name back, only for him to repeat it out loud.

Test it on his tongue.

You were always doomed.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤTexas, Winter of 2023.

Jealousy looked godly on you.

Joel hated himself for even thinking it, but he hated himself a lot this evening.

He had hurt you, for starters.

The only thing he set himself not to do, and he'd done it.

More than a year has passed since the fateful day you stepped, yet better—waltzed into his field of vision, and had he known a day of peace ever since?

The day he met you still played on his head like a broken record stuck inside a player:

Saying goodbye to Sarah in front of the gallery, turning around the corner, and seeing you with smoke blowing in front of your face, smiling at the sight of him. You in your green dress. The happiness written all over you, the obvious and earnest glee of seeing that Joel was still around.

Walking with you all around New York, feeling three times less intimidated by the imposing streets with you by his side. The smell of your apartment, the street food you two got on the way, the conversation that flowed as easy as a river stream.

Joel had the imprint of your shining personality burning behind his eyelids. The taste of strawberry from your caipirinha permanently inked on his tongue.

He stood no chance against your eyes—as much as she teased, Tess was right.

Miss Daggers for Eyes.

The way you looked at him at said, "You gotta stop looking at me like that, Joel. I'm starting to think you're not paying attention to what I'm saying," even though you already knew that to be true. Since the moment the strap of your blouse fell from your shoulders and you kept on talking, Joel was fish in a net.

He had the taste of your cunt and the smell of being buried between your thighs waking him up late at night for the next months to come.

The way you rode his face just as he asked you to—no mercy, no shame, only that, only your desires and the alcohol and the weed and the conversation and everything—everything, everything, everything.

Joel took it all out like a starved, greedy man, and you took it back, and neither of you slept until the sun was shining again in the sky.

The next couple of months were filled with texts since Texas demanded him back home and you were already home.

It could've been just friendship.

It was supposed to be simple.

So what if you two called each other and got off while on the phone like a couple of young adults who can't bear to be away from each other? So what if Joel texted you and had to endure Tess and other co-workers smiling at him and wondering, "what the hell's got Joel Damn Miller in a good mood, huh?"

So what if Joel learned more about you than he could admit to himself that he even wanted to know? Even if he was the one asking?

It didn't matter, because it wasn't simple.

Because when you called and said, "Your name is Joel Miller?" he realized why Sarah said he was such a 'distant concept'. No social media meant nobody to pry, but it also meant misunderstandings.

It also meant having to answer you with apprehension, because your tone had never been that off. "It is. Why are you sayin' it like I'm on a list or somethin'?"

"Joel." His stomach fell at his name alone. "You're Sarah's dad. Fuck. Of course you are—"

"Wait, you know Sarah?"

"Yes, I know Sarah. I'm friends with Sarah, or I was before—oh god, she's gonna kill me. She is, isn't she?"

He had assisted you through your panic even though he felt the same.

He walked outside his office, talked you through your next breaths, and guaranteed you there was no reason to panic. "That's it, it's ok, hun'—," he stopped, cursed mentally, and rectified his mistake with his name. You were not his hun, and Joel had been lost on cloud nine without realizing you could've never been. "Just breathe. She doesn't know. She won't know. You two are fine."

That had been it, or so he thought.

Joel stared a lot at the last message he received from you. Thought about sending something else. Continuing the conversation.

Instead, he let the silence make the dust settle.

It had been a haze.

A dream, or a glitch in the matrix—it wouldn't be happening again, and no matter how much he looked at the text you sent weeks prior — i really like talking to you, Joel — nothing would change.

Except it did.

Except — the silence amounted to nothing.

One look at you across the street and Joel was dragged back in.

That Summer when Sarah invited him back, Joel had almost said no, but he remained as able to deny her anything as when she was a kid. The weekend went perfectly, and Joel did his best to not think of you as he was there, but all it took was a few words on a screen:

ㅤㅤㅤㅤSaw Sarah's IG stories. You loaok so good when you smile , JoelㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLove how the sweater looks on yoyu

Drunk baby. Honey.

The second time there was no deal on the table yet, but there was you.

Joel appeared at your apartment door at twenty past two in the morning and only left a couple of hours before his plane left.

You two pretended your apartment was a bubble.

It worked.

Joel had missed you. It sounded silly when he thought it early in the morning before leaving for work—when everyday routine served as bitter medicine it was enough to convince himself it was all just wishful thinking.

With you in the same room as him, lying was harder.

There was no 'wishful' part on how well you two worked.

There was a divine inspiration in the way you made him feel like something new.

Joel felt warm, wanted, devilishly handsome under your gaze. Your careful touch.

"You're so fucking handsome," you repeated to him.

He never thought about his looks, but he couldn't stop himself from enjoying the truth in your words. How much you believed them. "Glad you think so."

"Don't snicker at me like that, Mr. Joel—"

"Snicker? I ain't snickerin', I'm laughin'. You keep tracing my wrinkles like that and I'm gonna get a complex, hun."

"The drama. You're so lame! Oh my god."

"And yet, you're laughing. You know, that's the same shit my daughter says. I'm startin' to think it's true."

"It is. You're silly. But it's okay —" the tip of your fingers tracing his features felt like the first drops of rain hitting the skin. Joel shivered under your touch more times than he cared to count, and he'd only been present for it a couple of times. He'd hate to think of how much you could ruin him with enough time given. How much no other touch would suffice anymore. " — 'cause it's all part of your charm..."

Who would've thought Joel still had it?

Charm.

No amount of charm made up for the situation, though, and before you left, you asked the inevitable question. "No one can know, right?"

"No." He knew what was at stake—your friendship with his most important person. Maybe more. "It was just our last time."

"Right. We're not doing this again."

"We can stay away from each other. I like it like this," he said, pressing his face in your beard-burnt neck, inhaling your sigh and perfume. "But I know..." she can't know.

No—no one can know.

He nuzzled into you, and you nuzzled back. Dug your fingers in the fabric of his shirt. "We can still... talk, can't we?" you asked.

Joel's chest clutched and he held you a little tighter. None of you were at fault for the circumstances, so you both deserved some more stolen time. "We'll talk." He kissed under your ear. "We'll stay away from each other. Talk. Friends can talk. We just—we don't do this anymore. And, no one can know it happened."

"Okay." You sounded muffled against his chest, and Joel thought about how he'd miss touching your hair like this. "I'll just — take a while. To be able to look at you and not —" you stopped abruptly, and pulled away to look up at him and show him not what.

Not look at him with eyes that demanded a kiss.

Without pulling him in by the fire in your eyes.

That had been then — July gave him you again. You for the last time.

The next time Joel saw you after that had been a few weeks ago. Sarah invited you to a party during the holidays, and third time was the charm.

You two talked like good, old friends.

The longing in his chest was ridiculous, the whole entire time.

Now—

jealousy looks good on you.

Sarah's birthday was big enough for Joel to have his eyes on you without you even realizing it. From his bedroom porch, Joel saw you walking by the pool between the guests with that set to your jaw. Another friend of Sarah's stopped you and started a conversation, but the look refused to leave your face.

The problem was—there was nothing Joel could do.

If he pulled you aside to clarify that Tess was only a friend, a work friend who Sarah has called 'Aunty Tess' since she was fourteen, he would be wrong.

Rubbing salt on the wound.

What did it matter what Tess was?

You two had a deal.

Gods, Joel was getting too old for this—too old to watch things from a distance, to see the sadness on the pout of your lips and crave to run and kiss it away, to realize when the lights of the party hit your face in the right angles that your eyes are shining and fuck—

He gets back downstairs and leaves the glass somewhere along the way.

No more bourbon for him.

Joel hears his name called a few times. Allows himself to be distracted by conversation here and there. He's good at lying to himself—he's done it often enough by now. Joel keeps himself trimmed from the deep wants and needs that grow like weeds through his bones, even if he isn't sure why.

Something so rich like you — of course it wasn't for him.

What would he do?

You're Sarah's dad. Fuck.

Sarah's father — he clapped the louder, smiled the brighter, and when the candles were blown and she handed him the first piece of cake, Joel wondered if he should feel guilty for going after someone who's close with daughter of all people.

All he could feel was sadness as he saw you disappearing in the crowd after talking to Sarah in hushed tones inside a hug.

Joel needed to find Tess.

He should leave — his house would be the roof for a lot of people tonight and he needed to talk, maybe—Joel started laughing as soon as the thought came to him.

That's how much you affected him.

He leaves in direction of the kitchen, guarded by the commotion around the cake.

Joel had trouble finding people he liked talking to. You spoke with him for three hours as if time meant nothing, and now it got him wanting to talk about you to his friends, spilling all the bits of stolen moments here and there.

The texts he's read so many times he has memorized.

He needs to get those things off his chest if he wants to stop clinging to them— they've been inside his close fists since Joel got his hands on them — on you — and he hasn't let go ever since.

"Dad?"

He places the bottle down on the fridge shelf, happy he was caught before and not during the act. He pops his head out, and Sarah's standing on the door of the kitchen with a look.

"What?"

"I promised myself I was gonna stay out of this tonight, but — is there a reason? Any solid reason why you two decided to stay away from each other since you're both so... clearly happy about that?" she finishes, eyeing the fridge as if her view is made of x-ray, and the bottle weighs twice more in his hands.

Then—"Wait." Joel's brain freezes. "You knew?"

Sarah's eyes widen, and her mouth falls open. "Oh. My god." She blinks once, then covers a burst of laughter with both hands. "Dad. You and she are so not subtle—I thought you knew that I knew — oh my god. It's not because of me, is it? I mean—don't get me wrong, if you two as much as flirt in front of me at first I'm gonna hose both of you like, on the spot, but—I'm ok with it. Obviously. You two are two grown adults, and dad, don't take this the wrong way, but last year was the most I've seen you smile in a long, long time."

Joel needed a few minutes to take all of it in.

Was it just because of Sarah?

No one can know, you'd said. What if you were ashamed of him, too? Of the age difference, and —

"The same goes for her, obviously." Sarah's words pulled him out from underwater. "I've known her for a couple of years, but... last year was definitely happier than the other one."

He smiled. "You're the best, did you know that?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Duh."

"Tell Tess I left?"

"Sure." Sarah's smile spread. "She just left. D'you want me to text you where she's staying?"

Joel had already gifted her, but that didn't stop him from walking over to kiss her cheek and smile proudly. "I'll buy another gift."

"You better."

Joel drove all the way hoping to be right.

Hoping it hadn't all been just a fluke — the moment, a chase, a thrill.

He breathed a deep inhale before knocking on your hotel door.

It took a second before he heard your footsteps, and he wiped his palms on his jeans. "Uhm — I didn't ask for room service?" you sounded confused.

And like you'd been crying.

Fuck him. "I know you didn't."

It was him.

You wished you hadn't opened. He looks good — like always, but better. Hair slicked back, thick jacket to shield from the cold and the soft eyes; it's what bought you, and what traps you again.

You're speechless, but Joel helps.

"I just have somethin' to say and somethin' to ask, then I can be on my way. If you want," he adds.

"I thought we had a deal." It's almost like a plaster. A veil to cover the pink hue on your cheeks, maybe. "And how did you get up here without them calling me?"

He lifted his hands — your scarf was in them, and he tried very little to hide his amusement when he explained. "I've lived in this town my whole life. I just told Nina downstairs you forgot your scarf at the birthday party and you left pretty early tomorrow mornin'." Joel looks past your shoulders. "You're not the only one with friends. Can I come in?"

You wonder if it's possible to say no to him.

You simply take a step back, and Joel walks past you.

He feels like an omen standing there in your hotel room. The one you'd gotten because staying at his house seemed impossible.

The one you dreamt about him appearing out of nowhere, just like now.

If you had drunk more tonight, you would think maybe you're out of it.

"I'll keep it short, mostly 'cause I feel like a nerve wreck." Joel clears his throat and turns around to look at you as you close the door behind you. "She knows. Sarah — she uhm, she asked me basically why we're makin' each other miserable."

She knows.

You feel splinted from your body for a moment as the weight of the secret leaves your shoulders.

"She knows?" your whisper is more to yourself than anything else, but Joel still answers.

"Yeah. And also — that was Tess, tonight. With me at the birthday party."

He closed it at that because the rest was implied — you heard of Tess, many, many times.

When you and Joel spoke before Summer and the few times you two spent hours on the phone after long periods of silence in between, Joel told you about his friends. He told you about his work colleagues, about old college memories, about anything you asked.

He waited for you.

Patiently, as you took in the fact that your only worry didn't exist, Joel stood there a few feet across from you with his hands in his pockets, waiting.

And then, "I get if that wasn't the only reason why you said we should keep it between us. But—"

"It was." You were just... flying. Free. You breathed out, weighing a thousand pounds less. So you could have him? "Joel?"

He takes a step forward. "Yeah?"

There's little to be said when both of you move like orbits.

Your arms already know the way around his shoulders. Joel's familiar with the inches of your waist, and more than anything, you missed this, missed him.

His clever hands wrap carefully around your waist, and you abandoned every ounce of worry that this might be a dream.

"What are you smilin' at?" he asks.

Joel asks you that as he molds your bodies into one—the man is nothing but broad shoulders and back, thick arms that act like tentacles on your body that melts into his touch from the get-go.

"I had a lot of dreams like this," you confess. It feels incredible to just say what pops into your mind.

"Well, then let me remind you that real life's better," he mutters, hands already cupping your neck and cheeks.

Joel is the type fo kiss with his whole body.

You have no idea how both of you deluded yourselves into thinking any sort of deal could prevail when you two are made of this:

His hands roaming your throat, squeezing as you cling your legs around his waist and Joel takes the full weight of you on him. The back of his knees hitting the bed, his body and yours falling into a mess and tangle of limbs.

No deal was bigger than the desire you had of jumping his bones whenever he was at close proximity.

You wanted to devour him — you sucked on the fingers he offered with the same gusto your hips rolled against his lap; Joel moaned for you, and he trembled for you, and he smiled for you.

"'m gonna take my time with you — you know I like to take my time, stop grindin' that pretty pussy all up on me," he growls, and you mewl.

Joel is relentless with his touches.

Every time he took you, it felt like a possession.

Like he was carving your body out of marble to keep the curves set in stone — his palms ran through every inch of you until all your clothes were gone somewhere in the room, and he laughed at himself every time you cried out his name in a loud plea for more.

"Please — please just gimme something," you begged.

Joel smiles at you, dropping his pants to the floor. The entire lower half of his face is shining with the slick and sweat from you — keeping his head buried between your legs, your thighs stradling his shoulders and squeezing around his ears — he always started the nights like that.

"I was givin' you somethin'," he replies. Voice low and thick as honey. Just as sweet, too.

He crawls over the bed, naked, and you have to stop yourself from jumping on him until he's on his back. It'd be worse for you afterwards — you learned it the hard way. Joel would milk every orgasm out of you until you blacked out if you kept him from touching your body to his liking before you could do anything, and who were you to complain?

"Need more, Joel," you cried.

"More what?" He palms your calves, and starts smoothing his hands upwards. "Ask for it, baby."

"Whatever you want to give me, just — please."

"Ah. She learned," he chuckles, and kisses the inside of your thighs. They tremble at the feeling of his beard, and he nuzzles his face there for good measure. "I usually wanna see you ridin' my face 'till you're screaming for the heavens, but —" Joel climbs all the way up, cages your face between his forearms and lets his body lay on top of yours slowly. He doesn't give you his whole weight, but part of you wished he did. "I really just wanna be inside you right now."

"Please!"

"We'll have all night, I just—"

He stopped there, but you got where he came from.

It was different.

Knowing you would wake up and he'd still be there — it was different.

Taking him in when you knew he had more to offer and that's what he wanted to give — it made every inch Joel pushed inside feel more real.

He held both of your hands over your head, intertwining his fingers in yours. He went slow, and kept his eyes on you, and you felt less silly about the hours you cried before because you thought he wasn't yours. Because you wanted him to be.

He must sense you getting lost in the what ifs because Joel's talk changes somewhere in the middle.

His praises, always the tether grounding you to Earth while he fucks your mind straight out of it, changes in words and tone. He whispers, "I'm here, baby," in your ear, and it makes your legs hug his waist tighter. Push him inside even deeper. "Fuck — like that. Does it feel good? Is this what you wanted?"

You wanted him. "Yes — want you so bad," you wanted all of him. "All of you, Joel."

That granted you a hand of his letting go of yours only to make a fist on your hair.

It was rare for Joel to lose control, but you loved it when it happened. When he let go of everything and you could see him without anything on — no pretenses, no clothes, no reservations.

Joel started to mumble in your ear about anything, his hips losing rhythm inside of you as he made you ride out your orgasm. He talked about how good you are, how much he'd spoil you, make you his, his his —

You were. You were.

💖 @sakuralikestars — @mostardentily — @thegreat-annamaria — @leiticia — @polyglot-noodle — @casssiopeia — @earthtocharlene — @levylovegood — @dilfsaremyfavorite — @rosymythologies — @lavenderhhze — @gracie7209 — @waywardwolfbonklight — @shadytalething — @sanzusmile —@yesimwriting — @celestialstar111

[mrchiipchrome]

Butterscotch

W.C. - 1.8 k

All your life your only goal has been to be as kind as you possibly could be. It didn’t matter if your day had been good or bad, as long as you could make someone else’s day that much better then you were fine. 

It carried on all throughout your life, going from the childhood innocence to the adult naivety. You’d do anything to cheer up a teammate or the occasional rival, seeing people sad was something you were uncomfortable with. That wasn’t difficult to see.

Growing up under the care of your grandparents taught you things that were unique, things that other children your age wouldn’t learn until years from that point. Experiences only growing up surrounded by older people could bring.

It taught you many miscellaneous things, but most importantly of all, it taught you that there was nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a piece of candy. 

Both of your grandparents always had a small piece of candy with them, often a quick caramel or a butterscotch that would melt on your tongue. Anytime you fell and scraped your knees a candy wrapped in crinkly plastic would be handed to you and then everything would seem fine again.

It was something you picked up on, always having treats wrapped in crinkling paper in your shirt pocket or wherever else you could store it. You even had a special compartment sewn into all your football shorts pockets where you could fit a single sweet that wouldn’t fall out throughout all the ruckus of a match. One you would slip into your mouth as soon as the game was over no matter the result of the game.

You would always go fetch another sweet from your coat that you’d give to either the opponent or one of your teammates, depending on who won. 

But ultimately whenever anyone needed a pick-me-up they knew where to find you, a sweet in your pocket just for them.

So when you finally broke through into the first team, you were quickly known throughout the Woso community as one of the nicest players. One that would slip children sweets when their parents weren’t watching.

That was something your girlfriend especially liked watching, the sneaky look on your face and the huge smile on the kid’s never failing to make her day.

You’d known of each other for a while before you became friends and later lovers, having roughly the same friend groups. You just never took notice of each other until she signed for Manchester United, the club having been your employers back then. 

She was freshly out of college in America and decided to sign for your then club, you hearing through the grapevines that she needed a place to stay which led you to offer your spare room. It got lonely without anyone else there.

Out of seeming desperation, she accepted your offer and moved in the following week. It was awkward in the beginning, neither of you used to living with the other, leading to some embarrassing moments and some good life lessons. Never ever walk into your roommate’s room without knocking being just one of them.

Slowly you warmed up to the other, learning the other’s habits and quirks, a smoothly running household soon forming. As soon as a routine was created, a budding friendship started forming between the two of you, becoming thick as thieves in practically no-time (much to the chagrin of a certain United player). 

It wasn’t until after you’d won the euros that the obvious feelings between the two of you were addressed, the alcohol fueled kiss shared at midnight much more telling than any words. Waking up hungover and in the same bed made for some hilarious excuses and even funnier stories from your teammates. You apparently hadn’t been able to keep your hands off of each other, insisting on sleeping in the same bed all cuddled up.

Since that magical night you had been dating, which was nothing short of amazing. She was all you could ask for and more, she was the breath in your lungs, your strength and your weakness.

And she always accepted a sweet treat from you.

It was no secret that Alessia Russo liked a butterscotch candy, something only highlighted by you and your pocket sweets.

Another non-secret was her love for your interactions with children. She couldn’t help the way her heart melted and how her thoughts ran wild, imagining your interactions with your future kids. She hadn’t even brought the thought of children up to you, it was her very obvious secret.

Alessia couldn’t avoid the teasing from your teammates who saw the obvious heart eyes coming out in full force as soon as you were near a kid, ruffling their hair or smiling at them kindly. You were teased just as much if not more for the constant heart eyes you exhibited towards your girlfriend.

After a win for Arsenal, the team takes a quick victory lap around the stadium, waving and smiling at your fans. It’s peaceful despite the shouts and yells of the frantic people, well peaceful until a piercing cry cuts through the air.

Your first instinct is to check on your girlfriend, to make sure that she’s okay and not hurt. Looking behind you, the sight of her baby blues meet you almost instantaneously. She looks fine on the outside, not like she’d screamed her lungs up only moments before.

Another heart shattering cry follows after the first one, you feeling like a belt is tightening around the circumference of your heart. Swiveling your head towards the crowd, you soon spot the little boy clutching onto his mother’s shirt tightly, tears streaming down his poor face.

Alessia’s attention is caught when she sees you walking towards the crowd, the shrill screams lowering little by little. She can only see the numbered shirt on your back, legs moving towards the little boy.

The boy looks at you in amazement when you’re close enough for him to see you, silent tears still falling down his chubby cheeks.

“Hi buddy!” You said in a soft voice, trying to calm him down. His mother looks at you, awestruck as her son but ultimately snaps out of it just enough to encourage her son to greet you back. “Why are you crying…” The woman fills in the blank in your sentence with his name.

“Timmy”

“Why are you crying Timmy?” Leaning down to his level, you see how his tears slow, no longer falling down his cheeks rapidly. Timmy shakes his head hastily, as if to say that he didn’t want to say. “Okay, you don’t have to tell me. You want to know what I do everytime im sad?” You ask the sweet boy, who can’t be older than 5.

The headshakes soon turn into frantic nods, the boy intrigued by what you did. Your hand moves back behind his head, fingers magically pulling a butterscotch candy out from behind his ear. The light gasp from the boy makes you smile, looking at his mother who gives you a nod. His small hands wrap around the crinkly plastic, the woman behind him nudging him, the boy quickly saying thank you.

“One of these and all my sadness goes away, why don’t you try?” The smile forming on your girlfriend’s face doesn’t go unnoticed by your teammates, a certain Irish woman sliding up beside her.

“Y/n’s very good with kids, ey?” She says, smirk overtaking her face.

“Yeah she is.” Alessia responds dreamily, eyes on your back.

“So, are you thinking about having some of your own?” Katie asks loudly, slinging her arm around Alessia’s shoulder and pulling her closer.

The brit chokes on thin air, coughing noisily to clear her airways. It attracts some attention from some straggling teammates but nothing out of the usual.

“Uhm, I don’t know. Not really.” She manages to get out, eyes tearing up slightly as coughs continue to escape.

“Don’t lie to me Less, we can all see it.” Katie explains softly, as if to let the girl down slowly.

“I don’t know if she wants any kids, that's the thing.” Alessia shrugs her shoulders in the Irish woman’s grip, looking down at the ground.

“Listen, just talk to her, okay?” She tells her protegee, glancing up to see you now standing in front of them shirtless and with a confused expression on your face.

“Talk to who about what?” Alessia’s eyes flit over your stomach, stopping at the sight of your abdominal muscles. The older girl nudges the number 23, leaving soon after. “So? Talk to who about what?” 

“Baby, I’ll tell you later, okay?” She shoves her hands in her pockets, leaning into you when you wrap your arms around her.

After showering and changing into your comfy clothes, both you and Alessia are on your merry ways out of the stadium, going back to her car together. Settling down in the passenger seat, you can hear her sigh loudly and all of a sudden you’re filled with fear. Is she about to break up with you?

“Do you want kids?” She asks nervously, eyes shifting all around the car. You let out a surprised laugh, sighing and placing your hand over your chest.

“Oh thank you” You laugh out, eyes on the ceiling of the car.

“What are you talking about?” She asks confused, eyebrows knitting together adorably like they always did when she was confused.

“I thought you were going to break up with me.” She slaps your arm lightly, shocked that you’d even think of the possibility.

“But do you want kids?” Alessia repeats her earlier question, looking at you intently.

“Hmm, yeah I want two or three tots running around and wreaking havoc” You shoot her a smile, the softness in your eyes shining through.

“That’s good, because I want kids too”

“With me?” Now it’s your turn to be confused.

“Who else dummy?” 

“Why would you want to have kids with me?!” 

“Because I love you, and you’d be an excellent mother” Alessia tells you tenderly.

“You’d be an even better mother my love” She blushes at your compliment, hiding her face in her shoulder.

When you’ve arrived home and put your pajamas on, it’s finally time to lay down on the sofa and cuddle for all eternity, your head settling down on her chest with your body slotted between her legs.

“Can one of our kids be named Morrison?” Your voice comes out muffled, the warmth of your breath seeping through her pajama shirt.

“No.”

Having your own kids wasn't going to happen for ages, so for now you had to settle for raising a stuffed animal.

[onlyjaeyun]

𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 – 𝟐𝟑

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄: 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲

⤲ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⤲ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞!𝐀𝐔, 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐀𝐔, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

⤲ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟕.𝟓𝐤 (not proofread yet i got hungry, sorry)

⤲ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞, 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧...

"The actual love of my life."

The sound of your best friend's voice sends literal chills of excitement over your body and for the first time in a total of three weeks you feel like your lungs fill with oxygen again.

You still have to get used to not spending every single second with your better half after doing just that for the past twelve years and as you wrap your arms around his strong body, you let out a deep sigh.

Jungwon's warmth, his familiar scent and calming energy embrace you within seconds, easing your nervous soul in ways only he manages to do it.

You've never associated anyone with an actual home except your brother, until you met your best friend all these years ago. You still remember the way he'd make you laugh in the worst moments of your life as he wiped away every single tear and as usual, healed injuries he hadn't caused.

"Now now", he sighs and takes your face into his big, delicate hands, his attentive eyes roaming your face and you know he can read you like an open book. It's always been as easy for him as it's been for his older cousin and the ability's definitely a blessing and a curse in one.

"Let's save those conversations for the next few days, yeah? Today's going to be a good day and you're going to enjoy yourself or I'll have to throat punch you", Won's words leave no room for discussion and you can't help but chuckle at his threat, knowing he'd actually pull through with it if he had to.

Once the two of you get comfortable in Heeseung's car, you catch up on the past week, since neither one of you has had the time to actually talk on the phone, both of you covering extra shifts to get the same week off and enjoy your time together.

For some reason, neither one of you seems to dare mention a certain someone and you wonder what Jungwon talked to Heeseung about, only to get rid of those thoughts as quickly as they appeared.

The drive to your brother's apartment is calm and everything you needed right before a nervewrecking night like this one and all of a sudden you find yourself dreading the upcoming few hours.

Just as you two step out of the elevator, you literally run into the strong chest of someone you recognize by his scent before you even get to see his face.

"Wonie!" Heeseung's deep voice fills your head in the most agonisingly perfect way possible, taking over yet another one of your senses and with your bottom lip firmly tugged between your teeth you take a step back and watch the two cousins greet each other.

"Where are you going? The party's literally about to start", Jungwon asks and definitely doesn't miss the way the older one's eyes find their way to you and back within a second.

You're just glad neither one of you is brave enough to actually address it.

"Jong's too drunk to cook and everyone got here straight from work. Yuna almost punched Yun in the face because he told her to relax, so I'm gonna go and get something to eat. Delivery would take too long."

Heeseung wants to look at you, he's dying to take in the sight of your perfect body in that cute little dress, save it in his memories for all those times he's by himself and has nothing but his thoughts to handle, but he doesn't.

Not even a single time does his gaze shift to you, his eyes remaining on his cousin's face as he hears his heart breaking into thousands of pieces in a far distance.

"My baby's going to join you", Jungwon suddenly says and with wide eyes you lift your head and stare at him, trying to understand what the fuck he just said.

"Huh? No, it's okay", Seung says and for some reason there's a quick flash of irritation in his eyes, but you can't help and be sure it's mostly because of your best friend's choice of words to address you.

"You'll have lots to carry", Won states calmly, "you've got like ten hungry mouths to feed and my presence will distract them long enough."

"What about my presence?" You say and place a hand on your hips, looking him up and down only to catch a gentle smile of amusement on Heeseung's pretty lips, which however slips away rather quickly once he realises.

"You'd be too much of a distraction to the boys, especially in a dress like that." Jungwon's shameless flirting doesn't even faze you anymore and with a roll of your eyes, you allow yourself to peak a glance at Heeseung, who – again – doesn't seem fond of his cousin's behavior towards you.

"It's okay, seriously", Seung says and you can tell it's directed towards you, yet he still refuses to make eye contact, which definitely irritates you in a way you weren't expecting it.

If he's going to act the way he does, the least he could do is have the audacity to meet your eyes when he's talking to you once in a while.

So, without an ounce of hesitation, you lift your head to look at his face, subconsciously enjoying the definition of his features and how everything about him seems perfect.

"Don't be a baby now", Jungwon rolls his eyes and reaches for his suitcase, pushing it away from the three of you before he follows and quickly lifts his hand to make you stay.

"Whatever you're ordering, please get a less spicy version as well, not everyone has a tongue of steel like you." Those are your best friend's last words before he makes his way to the front door of your brother's apartment and with a soft sigh, you turn around and press the button of the elevator.

The following few minutes are filled with nothing but silence, since neither one of you dares to start a conversation. You know he'd feel uncomfortable and quickly bring it to an end so he can act like you don't exist to ease his conscience, which is why you'd rather sit there and say absolutely nothing at all instead.

Once you two make it to the boys' favorite restaurant, you thank Heeseung for holding the door open for you, a big smile suddenly appearing on your face as you spot the cute waiter and owner's som at the register.

"Hey, there!" You lift your hand to wave at him, Heeseung's eyes attentively watching your every movement and just like Jake had told you to, you decide to play a card you usually would have been too scared to even think of, but this time it's actually happening and not just in your instagram stories.

"Oh, goodness! There she is, the prettiest girl in town!" The young man shoots you a charming smile, runs his hand through his dark hair and even winks at you, yet not giving an ounce of his attention to the tall male mext to you.

"Don't get me all flustered now, you know I tip too well if you do!"

Both of you erupt in laughter, much to Heeseung's dislike and with his hands balled into fists to the point where his rings actually hurt him, he just clears his throat and finally manages to make the man avert his gaze from you.

Once he's made sure to get everyone's order and a few side dishes, the man disappears for a quick moment and you can feel the tension between the two of you.

"Close, huh?" The sudden question takes you aback and with furrowed brows you look at him in annoyance.

"Too lazy to form a complete sentence..huh?"

You hate yourself for being so irritated by his behavior because you've been playing with his patience all week, thanks to Jaeyun. You genuinely didn't think it'd work, yet from what your brother's friend has been telling you, your little game of provocation has worked just as you had planned and Heeseung's been going crazy just because of your instagram stories.

But you've decided not to care too much, knowing he won't act on it anyway so there's absolutely no point in considering if it's too much or not.

"Here you go, this is the change and a little something for you guys while you wait", Siwoo says with a bright smile, his pretty eyes again, remaining on you only and you hate how happy the sudden tension in Heeseung's posture makes you.

"Thank you, handsome", you reply with a charming smirk, carefully watching your life long crush roll his eyes in annoyance in your peripheral sight, while you're barely holding back a chuckle.

You quickly take one of the tooth picks and take a little rice cakes into your louth, humming softly when the perfect sauce hits your taste buds and you can feel both men's eyes on you, yet only caring about the one's beside you.

"I've been meaning to ask for your instagram", Siwoo suddenly says and pulls out his phone, handing it to you with a hopeful expression in his pretty eyes.

"Oh, su-", but before you can even think about reaching for the device in his hand, an arm suddenly appears in front of you, pushing him away casually but firmly.

"She has a boyfriend", Heeseung suddenly hisses and you feel heat boiling in your lower tummy, the possessiveness in his voice sending shivers down your body and with an inaudible gasp you look at him in shock.

"Oh? So, you and Jaeyun are dating? I always thought he was just joking, I'm sorry", Siwoo mumbles and you hate how Heeseung's reaction has him embarrassed as he puts his phone away again and smiles awkwardly.

"I do not have a boyfriend", you quickly reply and push Seung's arm away, holding your hand out for the young man to give you the device again, "Jaeyun and I are just friends."

You emphasise the last two words while looking into Heeseung's eyes with a fire he's never seen before and for some reason the urge to just bend you over and fuck you into oblivion has never been as intense as in this particular moment.

He hates the way his blood is boiling and he can't do anything but watch as you type in your instagram user name into the search bar, quickly tapping the follow button and give Siwoo his phone back while shooting him one of your prettiest smiles.

Heeseung knows he has absolutely no right to feel jealous or angry, but these past two weeks he's had to tap through your stories and listen to Jaeyun tell him all the details about your new lover, so he has absolutely no energy left to fight these thoughts and emotions.

This is what he's always wanted. For you to move on with a good guy who eats you out and takes you on cute little dates, something your new fucker has apparently been doing a lot, according to Jaeyun.

He hates his best friend for being so open about your new relationship despite his knowledge of Heeseung's feelings, but there's no point in blaming anyone but himself so all he can do is let out a loud sigh and accept his defeat.

Once Heeseung thanks the kind employee for helping him load all the bags full of hot food into the little box in the back of his car, you both say your farewells and head back to your brother's shared apartment, yet again – not a single word being exchanged throughout the whole drive.

But as you turn to the side to reach for the door handle, Heeseung doesn't immediately unlock the door itself, a loud sigh following his lack of movement.

"Why are you doing this to me, princess?"

His choice of words and way to address you, as well as his tired tone and the lack of eye contact sends a jolt of sadness through your body. You hate how much he's fighting his feelings but you have no choice but to push him if you really want him.

"What exactly am I doing – especially to you?" You spit back, sudden anger and frustration taking over the place of your sadness and with your hands balled into fists you turn your body to face the love of your life again.

"Don't act like you don't know how much watching you with other men hurts me", Heeseung growls and throws his head back against the seat's headrest, his hands tightly holding onto the steering wheel and you can't help but bite your bottom lip at the sight of his pretty, ring adorned fingers.

"Yeah, right", you reply and don't even try to hide the annoyance in your voice, "you act like I was the one who pushed you away every time. I get to do whatever I want with whoever I want to do it with."

And those words flip a switch in Heeseung's brain, mental images of your pleasure contorted face with a faceless guy between your legs, driving him absolutely insane within a few seconds. He's never felt as jealous as he does right now and he actually watched your boyfriends kiss you multiple times in the past.

The fact you're so open about your intimacy with other men has his heart skipping a few beats, all while he tries to breathe in as much air as possible, only for his lungs to fail to take it all in.

"Oh, so you're going to go and fuck some lame ass loser because you feel like it? Come on, why don't you go back and let that ugly bitch from the restaurant take you, hm? You love wasting your time after all."

You don't expect his sudden outburst and as soon as your brain processes his words, you feel heat pooling in your lowe tummy as your cunt clenches in despair. He's not being loud or aggressive, yet there's nothing but raw jealousy burning in his usually so soft eyes and you hate how much you're enjoying it.

"Maybe I'll do just that", you hiss and can barely hold back the look of surprise on your own face in response to your words.

You've never been one to openly talk to your brother or his friends about anything related to intimacy, but you've had enough of Heeseung's games.

"And what about your little boyfriend, huh? The one you post and talk about all the time? Think he's gonna like hearing you talk like this?"

At this point you have absolutely no ounce of patience left, and neither does he.

You attentively watch the way a deep shade of pink starts covering the soft skin of his cheeks, his eyes filled with anger and jealousy as he tries his best not to yell at you. And for some reason you feel relieved to see a reaction as intense as this one from the man you've been head over heels for all this time.

In a twisted way it's helped you finally get rid of all those thoughts dismissing any possible feelings of his towards you.

"There is no fucking boyfriend!" You finally raise your voice as your patience finally finds its absolute limit and with wide eyes you look at Heeseung and try to calm yourself down.

"Oh, so go ahead then! Let's see if that fucker can even last longer than a fucking minute and then you can come and brag to me about it", Seung's words are harsh and dirty, they make you feel uncomfortable yet for the first time in your life you don't even think about stepping away from a confrontation.

For a short moment you're surprised at your boldness, not used to being like this to anyone, especially someone with an aura as intimidating as Lee Heeseung.

"Maybe I'll do just that, Heeseung." You take a deep breath and roll your eyes, turning your head to hide just how much you love this side of him to avoid a sudden turn of atmosphere.

"He looks like he eats it well, too, doesn't he? Once he's done with me I'll make sure to let you know if I've finally found someone who can eat-", but yet again, you don't get to finish your sentence as Heeseung quickly reaches over to cover your mouth with his ring clad hand.

His touch isn't rough or harsh, not even firm, it's just a way of him asking you to be quiet as your words get the best of him and with big, glossy eyes you watch the way he pushes his forehead against the steering wheel and lets out a loud sigh.

He sounds defeated, tired and just done.

But you don't get to feel bad for what you said, nor does he give the time to pity him.

"Stop", he whispers and tightens his grip on his own thigh, yet not moving an inch when it comes to the one on your face, "I can't do this anymore."

You sigh and reach for his hand, gently wrapping your fingers around his and placing it in your lap before you turn to look at him.

"Why are you fighting it so much, Seungie?"

The question lingers in the air for a good minute and if it wasn't for the feeling of your skin against his, Heeseung would have stayed quiet for another thirty.

"I promised to never cross this line", he finally admits after losing the battle against himself for the nth time within a week, "I fucking promised."

Heeseung was doing so, so well hiding his feelings for you all this time, which is probably the reason why he would have never expected your close presence to make it so much harder than before.

Knowing you're this close to him physically and he still has to pretend like he's not going absolutely crazy over you is what has driven him into absolute insanity and at this point he's just exhausted.

He's had to watch you live your life without him for years, pretending he didn't care and be content with being as distant as he's always been but after realising how close the two of you could have been if it wasn't for his stupidity, he's been regretting most of the things he's done and wished he could have done it differently.

At this point he's just glad he somehow gets to stay in contact with you, talking to you becoming a privilege and treasure he could not take for granted even if he wanted to and after leaving his apartment for the fifth time within a week to make you feel as comfortable with the lack of his presence, he's simply had enough.

"Look at me, please", you whisper and patiently wait for him to meet your eyes, knowing you'll feel more comfortable and less tense if it was for that, "stop being so hard on yourself. It's breaking my heart to see you like this."

Just a few minutes ago you were yelling at him about having another man eat you out and now you're on the complete opposite side of the road. If it wasn't for the fast pace of your heartbeat, the sudden change in air would have given you a good whiplash.

"I want you", Heeseung suddenly whispers, allowing himself to indulge in the sweetness of your tone and the softness of your touch, calming his nerves in a way he's never experienced it before until you came into his life.

"I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you, princess." His confession immediately pushes you to the furthest edges of your self control and as a thick veil of tears blurs your sight, you can't help but swallow them down again. His tone is genuine and you know he's being honest, but from the way his eyes are looking everywhere but your own, you know he's about to crash every bit of hope you had manage to build up these past few days.

"I just can't break this promise, Sunghoon is my everything", yet again, you find yourself despising their bond, when everyone else in this world would probably kill to have a friendship like theirs. Neither one of them is at fault, and you know that, yet you can't stop yourself from being angry at life for putting the both of you in a situation like this one.

And as you hold Heeseung's hand, something you've been dreaming of for years, taking in the sight of his perfect face and those soft eyes you've been craving for so long, your heart finally manages to overpower your mind and before you can overthink them, you find yourself mumbling the words "and what about me? What am I to you?"

"My most precious treasure."

Heeseung doesn't miss a single beat as if he felt your question in his heart before you had the chance to voice it out to him. He's been through these questions so many times already, at this point he's sure he's got an answer ready for every single one of them.

Maybe it's the raw honesty in his voice or the actual pain in his eyes, yet as soon as you process his sweet confession, you feel the tears streaming down your cheeks, leaving a burning trail on your skin and doubling the knot in your throat in its size.

Heeseung has seen you cry before, but this time he knows he's got the chance to actually comfort you and for a minute, everything and everyone becomes irrelevant. Nobody and nothing matters as he pushes his seat back and reaches for your hand, pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around your body.

Neither one of you remembers the last time you two hugged each other. Both of you turning too shy and awkward once puberty had come around and yet as soon as you indulge in his embrace, the comforting feeling of familiarity overwhelms you.

"My sweet souled angel girl", Heeseung whispers and caresses your back, his heart breaking a little more with each one of your sobs, but for some reason he's glad you finally know how he feels about you.

"Why is life so unfair", you mumble against the soft skin of his neck, breathing in his calming scent because you know you won't get another opportunity like this.

"I'm sorry, Baby, I wish I could give you an answer but I'm still trying to figure it out myself. Always wondered why you had to fall for me and not one of the other boys", he sighs and pushes a strand of hair out of your face, taking it into his big hands and nudging his nose against yours.

"Life would have been so much easier for you if you fell for basically anyone else." You know he's not doing it on purpose, yet after talking to both Jake and Jungwon about it for so long, you can't help but actually hear the self destruction in his words, the conviction of his presence and place in your life being nothing but a burden to you wavering in each one of them.

"It's unfair but I wouldn't want it any other way", you quickly say and look up at him with teary eyes. You need him to understand just how much he means to you.

"You're the reason my standards have always been so high", you chuckle and nibble on your bottom lip as soon as Heeseung looks at you with surprise grazing his perfect features.

"You're so fucking cute", he sighs in response and cocks his head to the side, his eyes slowly roaming your face to land on your parted lips and for the first time this evening you regret your choice of outfit. Your skirt has already ridden up your thighs and you can feel the zipper of his jeans against your sensitive cunt, yet still afraid he might feel the growth of the wet patch in the center of your panties.

"Don't look at me like that, princess", he suddenly grunts and tries to adjust in his seat, "we can't do this."

You don't say anything. You don't even dare to move. There's something heavy lingering in the air, a sexual tension neither one of you had ever had the guts to acknowledge, yet now happened to be the reason for the lack of oxygen in your lungs.

"Then we won't do anything", you whisper and lean further into his gentle touch, loving the way his other hand is holding onto your hips with such vigor, you have to physically hold back a whimper.

"Just one kiss", Seung's voice is a mere whisper, barely audible, "and then I'm gonna let you go again."

"Just one kiss", you reply in the same way, gasping for air as his hot breath fans your sensitive skin, "and then I won't ever let go of you again."

Neither one of you dares to make the next, important move. Both just taking in the presence of the other as you lose yourself in all those hidden feelings and urges, until you've finally had enough.

Without missing another beat you lean forward and press your lips against Heeseung's, almost instantly eliciting a deep grunt from his throat before he moves even closer into your touch.

The kiss is calm and soft at first, Heeseung obviously hesitating in hopes of maintaining his composure, only for you to break every single wall he had built throughout the years with one whimper.

He's been dreaming about hearing your noises for so long, there's absolutely no way he's going to back away now that he finally got a taste.

You can feel the bulge in his jeans growing underneath the light movements of your hips as you kiss him deeper, harder, hungrier. The need to lose yourself in the sweet taste of the man you've wanted for so long finally taking over every single one of your senses and with a soft sigh your hands find home in his dark hair.

Heeseung on the other hand has lost every bit of self control and if it wasn't for the current situation you're in, he would have made his way with you in the backseat with absolutely no hesitation. He knew he wasn't going to push you away for a third time and now that he's actually wrapping his lips around your tongue, he knows he's absolutely fucked.

With each time your lips meet, his hot muscle grazing yours and exploring your mouth in ways you've been craving for way too long you lose yourself even more in the sweet haze of pleasure, subconsciously rocking your hips against his to get rid of the pressure on your cunt.

"Princess", Heeseung suddenly whispers completely out of breath, his attention remaining on you and you're surprised just how heavy the both of you are breathing, "your phone is ringing."

You forcefully swallow the last few noises of pleasure before you reach for your phone on the passenger seat, ice cold shivers running down your spine at the sight of your brother's contact picture and name on your display.

"Where the fuck are you two?" Hoon slurs, not even trying to hide the few drinks he's had since he had come home a few hours ago.

You look at Heeseung with heavy eyes and your hand on the base of his neck, biting back a whimper when he moves it a little further up to wrap around his own throat, his gaze never once leaving yours.

"We just parked the car", you say and try to sound as unaffected as possible, "two more minutes."

"Just hurry the fuck up, Yuna's going to fist fight Jaeyun if she has to listen to another one of his stupid jokes without anything in her stomach."

You chuckle nervously in response to your brother's words but can't get yourself to verbally answer him, just ending the call and slowly climbing off of Heeseung's lap and back into the passenger seat.

The air and tension in the car is filled with arousal, so heavy, you feel like there's barely any oxygen left as your head starts spinning.

"Are we going to talk about this?" You ask softly, not brave enough to lift your head and look at him, only for Heeseung to place his hand on your hand and letting out a soft hum of approval.

"Yes, Baby", he replies quickly and you stare at him with big eyes, surprised at his sudden openness, "but let's get this party over with first, yeah?"

All you can do is nod and kiss the palm of his hand on your cheek, his lips stretching into a soft, honest smile before he lets out a sigh and gets out of his car rather quickly.

As soon as you two step through the door, both Jaeyun and Jungwon are attentively watching you and with your brows furrowed in confusion you just roll your eyes and make your way past them. Neither one of them manage to get a minute with you to themselves as you help Heeseung and the girls with the food and since both of them haven't eaten in several hours, they quickly shift their attention to the more important things.

Once everyone is seated none of you bothers to even bring a toast to the birthday boy, who's currently busy drinking the little cocktail Ryujin had mixed him up and you can't help but feel glad because if anyone was sober enough, they would have felt the tension between you and Heeseung withou any difficulties.

Sitting across from each other and right next to your brother definitely doesn't contribute to it, since your gazes meet more than you would have expected but every single time Heeseung looks at you, he wipes his thumb over his bottom lip and lets his eyes fall to yours, casually letting you know of his unspoken thoughts.

By the time everyone's well fed and back to giggles and loud laughter again, you feel yourself easing up a little as well and actually manage to shift your attention away from your brother's best friend for a little longer, focusing on your girls instead. Since the three of you haven't had much time to chat the way you used to, both Ryujin and Yuna have quite a few stories to tell as you clean up the kitchen knowing the boys are busy enjoying the night in the living room. However, it doesn't take long for Wonie to join you and soon you find yourself holding your belly from how hard you've been laughing at your friends' comments.

Every now and then you catch yourself letting out a sigh of relief and gratitude, since this has been the first time in weeks you feel like you're actually living a moment instead of just making your way through a night and as much as you want to hate the reason behind it, you can't.

After about an hour of seperation, Jungwon forces the three of you to join them in the living room again and after almost brutally pushing the girls into the hallway of your brother's apartment, you're adamant to finish the rest of the dishes as quick as possible.

But as soon as your friends stumble through the door, Heeseung's eyes are nervously looking for you, yearning for your presence even worse than before and every time he looked at you after the kiss, his head has been telling him just how badly he fucked up because letting go of you and staying away seems absolutely impossible now.

He doesn't say a single word, just waits for everyone to agree on what Cartoon to watch for their drinking game and sneakily making his way out of his spot once the argument becomes more serious.

You don't even give him the chance to watch you, as his presence creeps up on you before you can even see him in your peripheral vision and quickly shoot him a soft smile.

"Is everything okay?" You ask and reach for the towel to dry the last few dishes, only for Heeseung to take them out of your grip and place them on the kitchen counter again.

With a quick glance to the door to make sure no one followed him, he reaches for your face and pulls you closer to his strong body, his hands finding home on your hips as he buried his nose in your neck and inhales your sweet scent the way you did it with his.

"We can do the rest tomorrow, princess", he whispers into your ear, tightening his grip and gently groping the soft flesh, "I want you as close to me as possible from now on."

Your thighs basically start pressing together almost automatically in response to his words, the sudden attention nothing you're used to and you genuinely hope he can't tell just how needy you are.

Of course Lee Heeseung has always read you like an open book but he's never seen you in a state of arousal, so maybe these are the first pages he still has to figure out.

"Stop doing that", he suddenly presses through gritted teeth and nudges his knee in between your thighs, "I've been trying everything in the books to get rid of my fucking boner for the past two hours and knowing you've probably ruined your panties just makes me want to bury my face in that pretty cunt and finally take what's mine."

Speechless.

There's not a single word left in your vocabulary to describe what his words have managed to erupt inside of you and for a whole minute you're convinced the whole world has come to a stop for you to actually process them.

For some reason you're not even shocked, since you always kinda knew Heeseung's got a talent when it comes to charming his way into one's heart, yet you've never actively heard him something so lewd, so forbidden that you simply don't know what to say.

Your whole body is on fire; there's not one part of your limbs not burning like someone threw you into actual flames and with wide eyes you try not to fall to your knees.

"Are you thinking about all the ways I'm going to make you cum, pretty girl? You seem so thoughtful", Heeseung chuckles and casually leans against the wall behind him, his eyes roaming your body and taking in every single one of your reactions. He's always loved the effect he's had on you, yet now it's finally time for him to take advantage of your body's sweet response to him and just the way you're looking at him through glossy eyes is enough for him to never stop.

But all of a sudden there's a light shift in your thoughts. He can tell by the way you nervously start nibbling on your bottom lip that he isn't your only focus anymore and with another quick glance to the door he places his hand on your cheek and looks at you worriedly.

"Too much, Baby? Want me to go a little easier on you?"

You quickly shake your head no, since you definitely don't want him to stop or take it easier, his pace and everything he's been doing more than just perfect and with a soft sigh you try to get rid of those stupid demons, only to realise there's no point in hiding them from Lee Heeseung.

"What's wrong then, princess?"

"I've never –", you take a deep breath and try to compose yourself, but still giving you the time you need to find the right words simce you've never actually told anyone about this, not even your closest friends.

Heeseung doesn't really know what to expect since he's stopped hoping to be any of your firsts the day he saw you get quite handsy with your first boyfriend during a friendsmas dinner back in his last year of High School, which is probably why remaining quiet and just waiting for you to talk is his best option instead of getting his hopes too high up.

It's not like he cares if you're experienced or not, nothing is going to change how much he wants you anyway.

"Nobody has ever made me cum and I don't want you to be disappointed when it doesn't work out the way you've imagined."

For some reason, you don't feel as ashamed about it with Heeseung the way you usually did when it came to your previous boyfriends and the fact you have yet to talk about the whole moment in his car from a few hours ago, yet are already discussing details like this definitely seems a little rushed.

Yet it doesn't feel like you're going too fast. There's just too much pent up frustration for the both of you to actually take it slower and you're pretty sure (and hopeful) Heeseung feels the same way.

You carefully watch his reaction and nervously fumble with the rings on your fingers, the knot in your throat growing bigger and bigger the longer it takes for him to reply to your statement. You never thought it'd come to this point with Lee Heeseung, of all people, no matter how much you've been dreaming about it, so you simply can't help but feel even more self conscious about it.

It's not like you've never had an orgasm before, you've got a fair collection of toys to do just that, after all. It's mostly about your lack of satisfaction provided by someone else, which is why you've stopped asking for basically anything after about three months into your second relationship. Most of the time you liked them enough to give them head or let them fuck your fist, yet never trusting them enough to take it to another level, which you're definitely not ready to tell Heeseung just yet.

"I'm sorry", you whisper quickly when you realise he still hasn't said anything, the guilt of ruining his fantasies overtaking you in an instant and without hesitation you try your best to compensate for your lacking, "but I wasn't expecting anything from you anyway, I promise. I could just uhm do something for you and–"

"Princess."

As soon as the petname falls past his lips in the form of a whisper you shut your mouth almost instinctively, yet never once looking away from his face. You're still too shy to meet his gaze but try to focus on his pretty lips instead.

"First of all", he sighs and pushes your chin up with two of his fingers, "don't ever apologize for something like this, do you hear me?" All you can do is nod softly, still too flustered to respond and the possibility of someone walking in on you two so close to each other like this definitely contributes to the thrumming in your throat.

"We're going to talk about this when it's not as risky but I just want you to know you could never, ever disappoint me about these things. You're everything I've ever dreamed of and nothing is going to change that, yeah?"

It's definitely the way he talks and looks at you, which easily calms down all of those anxious thoughts in your brain and for the first time in yesrs you find yourself believing someone, almost instantly falling in love with the silence in your head.

"Good girl", Heeseung mumbles, doesn't even think about it for another second only to turn around and open the fridge to prepare Sunghoon's birthday cake, knowing one of them might storm into the kitchen any minute wondering what you two have been doing for so long.

And as he looks around for the decoration bag, you can't even blink as your body tries its best to cool down from the heat those two words of praise have sent through your system.

You've always had a thing about being praised, realising it's most likely caused by your lack of attention and validation in your childhood and confirmed by your choice of romance books, but none of your romantic interests had ever cared enough to indulge in it.

You still remember your most recent boyfriend trying his best to compliment you, only to use the words "hot" and "sexy" four times in a row and making it even worse for you to the point where you had accepted your fate, yet again.

Knowing Heeseung seems more than just casual about it to the point where he doesn't realise the effects it has on you sends jolts of excitement and anticipation through your body in the best way possible.

However, just as he'd expected, Jongseong stumbles through the kitchen door with flushed cheeks and messy hair, questioning the two of you only to place a finger over his pursed lips when he spots your brother's birthday cake.

It doesn't take long for them to absolutely destroy it all, not even bothering to plate each piece but instead everyone digging into it with some kind of utensil they found on the table, Jake not even giving enough fucks to find the second chopstick to his first one.

You have no idea how much time passes as you start playing random games and everyone tells a story about Sunghoon to honor him, most of you losing it as soon as Heeseung starts to speak because he never fails to bring out the best ones.

The girls are the first ones to leave, Heeseung insisting on driving them home with the boys, despite them living in an apartment across the street. By the time he's made sure everyone got home safe it's way past midnight and to his surprise mostly everything is cleaned up, yet none of you are where you're supposed to be.

It's not until he hears your chuckles through Sunghoon's door that he lets out a sigh of relief when he realizes you're still here.

"This was the best birthday ever", your brother slurs, his words barely coherent at this point and usually you'd be a little stricter about his drinking habits, but this time you just don't have the heart to actually say anything, "you and Seung are my favorite people in this world. I'm so grateful to have you both."

For some reason you feel a sting reach your heart as you thread your fingers through Sunghoon's hair, taking in the sight of his features and reminding yourself of his importance in your life, yet not feeling guilty enough to turn your head and look at Heeseung, who's standing in the doorway, just watching the three of you, with genuine adoration.

"Shut the fuck up."

Your best friends whine quickly ruins your oscar worthy moment and with a roll of your eyes you give Jungwon a kiss on the forehead and finally make your way to where Heeseung's standing.

"I'm–"

But for the third time within a few hours, Heeseungs cuts you off by wrapping his arms around your shoulder and pulling you into his embrace, just holding you close to his chest.

"Today's been a long one, how about we leave the talking for another day, yeah? I'm here, princess", he whispers and gives you a quick kiss, afraid one of the boys might still be up, "and I promise I'm not going anywhere anymore. Now go and get comfortable in my bed, I'll take the couch."

When you bury your face in Heeseung's pillow, you can't help the big smile on your lips and your brain finally lets you relive every single moment between the two of you, even showing you the mercy of pushing every bit of guilt to the back of your brain until you can barely keep your eyes open anymore, hoping you're not the only one falling asleep with butterflies in your tummy tonight.

And if Heeseung had the heart to let you know that this is the first time in weeks he's not actually crying himself to sleep, he definitely would because he can't even remember the last time he placed his head on a pillow with a genuine smile on his lips.

For a moment he can't help but wonder how something that feels so right, could ever be so wrong, only to throw all of those thoughts out of his head before they can take away this newfound feeling of hope filling his chest.

Maybe life isn't as bad as he thought.

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

(A/N: and here it is 💀 i know you guys had quite high expectations of this and i'm sorry for deciding against a proper smut scene last minute but i feel like it wouldn't have matched the vibe 😭 thank you ao much for all the love, you guys are the best. i love you sm 🥺🧸 feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!🩷🧸)

TAGLIST CLOSED: @soonigiri @thvhannie @enhaz1 @kpoprhia @abrazosolorcereza @deobitifull @mixtape-racha @certifiedmoa @jungwon-xo @hoonieluv @enhamysunshines @jaehoonii @pussyslayerhd @ineedsomezzz @neocockthotology @heerinnie @onionzzzs @hee-pster @3amstarlight @xxxxrvexxxx @primroselover @mimikittysblog @iea-tsand @lhspeachie @xiaoderrrr @viagumi @smg-valeria @kells5595 @heeseunghee7 @xrvrqs @ddazed-lhs @heebrry @fakeuwus @dammit-jjk @ivyannemarie @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @s00buwu

[riize119]

Soulmate! Anton⋆｡𖦹°‧⊹₊ ⋆

Soulmates work in the oddest way

• There isn't a set way to how you're supposed to find them or just know who is for you

• As far as you know, anyway

• Everyone else in your family either has the distinguishable mark on their body in the same place as their soulmate, or were given a time and place to be that suddenly appeared whenever the universe decided that they were ready

• You, on the other hand, had not even a single clue

• But you didn't mind

•You thought that it was kinda boring to just know who it is anyway

• Where was the adventure? The thrill of piecing it all together for yourself?

• Of course, there's always the problem that you get it wrong and have to try again but

• Whatever!!

• Right?

• As for Anton, he's been in shock ever since he was ten years old

• A rare soulmate story for some couples ends up being that one has known forever while the other had no idea

• In this case, it’s you having no idea.

•Anton, knowing, and being terrified to tell you for almost a decade

• It probably wouldn't have been such an issue if you two weren't best friends throughout your entire childhood

• He often doubted that you were his soulmate, only because you just seemed to show zero interest in him in t h a t way

• But you only did that to not be selfish

• You liked Anton. Actually, you loved him

• He was your closest friend and no matter what the situation was, your spirits were always bright and happy whenever you were with him

• You always heard that those kind of feelings were perpetual whenever you were with your soulmate, so you found yourself wondering if Anton could be yours

• But years have passed with no hint towards it being true, so you pushed the intruding thoughts away every time you saw him

• You were content with just being friends though

• And oddly content with not finding your soulmate if you were happy enough with the friendship and life you already had

• Which made Anton worry

• The simple solution would be to just tell you the truth

• Pros: you two are soulmates and live happily ever after

• Cons: the universe messed up and that turns out to be a big joke and it's his fault for messing things up

• Now, he knows that's elaborate, but still can't help but question why you've never asked him yet

• So here comes the help of Sohee, the "golden boy" of your trio, as you both like to say

• He always has the best advice and outlook for everyone around him, so what better thing to do than ask him about this?

• The only thing is is that he already can see that you two are meant for each other

• Neither of you had said a single thing about it, though. Not until Anton’s last thread of hope started to fray

• "So.. you've known for several years...”

• "Yes"

• “And you haven't said a single thing to them?"

• “Right"

• "Well why not?"

• "Because I don't know if they're my soulmate"

• “…”

• And Sohee just stares at him for a while before nodding his head and continued eating

• Because “how else am I supposed to help Anton if Anton won't believe first?”

• So, Sohee apologizes to the universe for interfering with the work of fate first before talking to you

• He hates seeing his friends in this position, especially if it's an issue regarding their entire life

•And he texts you randomly

• “You never talk about it, but I wanna know. Who do you have a crush on?"

• Getting the notification scares you because???

• Why would he suddenly ask you this?

• But you still reply,

• "We can't have crushes, remember?"

• In which he comes back with

• "We're only human. We have crushes, so who's yours?"

• Some time passes before you say anything, quickly becoming anxious

• You've never felt scared to talk about Anton before, so why now?

• "You can't tell Anton...”

• And you explain every bit and ounce of your feelings for him to Sohee, who is smiling so wide on the other end (as he screenshots every message and sends them to Anton in real time

• Who then proceeds to panic

• Even though it's confirmed that you definitely are his soulmate, he's scared that you'll be mad for not telling him sooner

• And also mad at the fact that Sohee told him after you asked him not to

• So the next time you see Anton, he looks almost queasy from how much he's holding in It worries you, so you just ask

• "Are you gonna be okay? You don't look well...”

• He stares back for a while, not really processing your question and almost tuning out the entire world to focus on what he had to tell you before it really made him sick

• He couldn't even hear himself when he told you, his mouth going on autopilot until he saw your reaction

• Not the reaction he was expecting though

• Seeing you smile so big and bright and then laughing at his change in expression from scared to confused still worried him, but in a different sense

• "God…..I've been waiting for you to tell me for so long!" You said, immediately going to hold both of his hands in yours

• And the shock that immediately ran through his body caused him to freeze before he could say anything to you

• The shock being that your reaction was positive after he already rehearsed your rejection

• "But…how did you already know?" he asks

• You laugh a little at how oblivious hes been all this time

• "I've always felt it. I just wanted to spare myself of embarrassment if it wasn't you and just boldly stated that it is. I should've known though...but you, on the other hand, have know this forever and still never said? Why?"

• He gets nervous again, thinking about how silly his reasoning was

• *I just didn't want it to make things awkward for us, you know?"

• You nod while smiling at him again

• "But fate makes it so that everything works in our favor. It was gonna happen sooner or later, and I guess later is now"

• Finally getting a smile out of Anton, he holds your hands tighter, swinging them a little, side to side, before asking his final question

• “I really do love you. Even before I knew we were soulmates, I liked you so much it was almost embarrassing..do you think that if fate didn't exist, we'd end up together still?"

• "I was already daydreaming about us being together before all of this happened, so of course” you tell him, making his expression brighter by the second

• "So now that it's official, we've gotta go tell Sohee thank you" he said, standing up and holding just one of you hands now to lead the way

• "..he sent you my confessions, didn't he?"

• "Let's not worry about that until another time"

[theemporium]

Hya! Dunno if you’re comfortable with it but can I request professor! Remus Lupin x college student! fem reader? like a super smutty smut where they both want each other badly but have to pretend they don’t and then they fuck

also, can I be 🍰 anon?

of course you can be, baby, the 🍰 is yours! and thank you for requesting!🖤

.

Everyone had their crushes. 

It wasn’t wrong to have feelings for someone, especially if you never acted on them. It was just a simple admiration of the person. From the way they looked to the way they acted to the way they spoke, it was just a simple admiration that made your stomach feel like it was bursting with butterflies and nothing more.

It just so happened that your crush was your professor of a class you didn’t even want to take. 

You needed to fill out your credit requirement for the term and you were grasping at straws when you realised your choices lied between a class with your old friend group, a class with your shitty ex-boyfriend and a class you couldn’t care less about. 

So obviously you chose the third one. 

However, what you weren’t expecting was a handsome man to walk through the door, briefcase in hand and blazer thrown over his other arm, and announce himself as your professor for the term. He didn’t look much older than you, maybe only five years at most if you were guessing (you would later realise it was a bit more than that). But all it took was one glance from the man and you were a flustered mess. 

It didn’t help that his class was difficult and you spent the few moments where you weren’t admiring Remus Lupin, being absolutely fucking confused. 

Your confusion led to many nights like such, huddled in the depths of the library at a late, ungodly hour. You were tucked away near the back, piles of books around you and not a single other human in sight.

You stared at the pages in front of you, the letters and numbers were starting to blur together and you weren’t any closer to figuring the assignment out. At least not tonight, but you were far too stubborn to give up. 

“If you stare any harder, you might set the textbook on fire.” 

You almost jumped out of your seat, your knee knocking against the table as you spun around to find Professor Lupin leaning against the bookshelves, looking at you with a mixed expression of curiosity and amusement. 

“Professor Lupin,” you murmured and cleared your throat, almost painfully aware of the messy state you were in. “What are you doing here?” 

“Is a library not open to everyone?” he asked, his brows raised.

Your cheeks heated up. “Well, yes—”

“Maybe I should be asking you what you are doing here,” Remus continued as he took a few steps towards the table you were sitting at. “It’s a Saturday night. Surely a young student like you has more interesting things to do than spend her time in the library.”

“I wanted a headstart on the assignment,” you mumbled out, almost embarrassed. 

Remus paused beside your chair and you were almost too aware of his presence. He glanced over your shoulder, reading over the textbook page and then the notes you had scribbled down, though most of it was incoherent. 

“You never told me you were struggling with the content,” he said, his brows furrowed together like the mere fact annoyed him.

“I…uh, I didn’t wanna bother you,” you admitedd, though you realised how stupid your excuse was before he even gave you a pointed look.

“I want to help my students,” Remus said, looking down at you with such intensity in his eyes that it made you squirm in your seat. “I don’t like seeing you struggle.” 

“Right,” you breathed out, blinking slowly. 

Neither one of you broke away from the eye contact, just staying locked in that moment. And then just when you thought he was going to look away—to turn away—his gaze dropped down to your slightly parted lips.

“Tell me you don’t feel it,” he whispered, his voice a little huskier now.

Your brows scrunched together. “What?” 

“Tell me you don’t feel whatever this is,” he said again, a little more determined this time. “Tell me you don’t feel it and I’ll walk away. I’ll leave you alone and stop convincing myself that maybe there is something.” 

You waited a beat, watching the way his shoulders tensed as he impatiently awaited your answer.

“I could say I don’t feel it,” you whispered and you could have sworn something in his expression broke. “But I would be lying.” 

Remus looked at you, he really fucking looked at you. There were a million different voices in his head screaming for him to just walk away. To just tell you his office hours and tell you to pop in if you had any questions about the course. He should just turn on his heel and walk out of the library before he did something he regretted. 

But what was one more regret in his life?

“Fuck it,” he grumbled under his breath as he took your face in his hands and kissed you.

It was fast-paced, messy and passionate but you wanted nothing more. You didn’t even realise he swiped your belongings off the table until his hands were gripping the back of your thighs, lifting you onto the table and standing between your legs.

“This is wrong,” he murmured against your lips, trailing down the expanse of your neck.

“I know,” you breathed out, your head falling back as his teeth light scraped against your skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he groaned as he pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. 

“Fuck me, sir,” you whined, your glossy eyes meeting his darkened gaze and whatever self-restraint he had quickly disappeared.

“Shit, baby,” Remus moaned as his fingers worked fast, pushing the fabric of your skirt until it pooled at your waist. His fingers tugged your panties down, pocketing them before his hands softly squeezed your inner thighs.

“Touch me, please,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his before your fingers tangled themselves into his messy brown hair and pulled him into a kiss. 

“Gotta stay quiet for me, darling,” he warned you, still acutely aware of the other people loitering around the library at this time. You both could get caught and get into so much trouble. He could lose his job and you could lose your place at the university, but neither one of you seemed to care all that much as your fingers nimbly undid the button of his trousers and slipped past the waistband to cup his cock. 

“Fuck,” you murmured, almost a little dazed like you hadn’t mean to speak aloud. “You’re big.” 

The smirk on his face was smug. “You can take it,” he told you, his hand cupping your face as your eyes met his once again. “Gonna take it like a good girl, aren’t you?” 

You nodded dumbly. 

“Atta girl,” he groaned before he pushed his trousers down to his knees, his boxers quickly following as he fisted his hard cock, giving himself a few strokes before he stepped further before your legs. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping them locked around him as he slowly slid inside you. Your nails dug into the fabric of his shirt, a pathetic whimper leaving your lips as he bottomed out inside you. 

“Sir,” you gasped out as he slid out before his hips roughly thrusted back into you. 

“Shh, baby, you can take it,” his whispered praises washed over you, settling a warmth in the pit of your stomach. “You’re doing so well for me.” 

His lips were on yours again when your moans and whimpers became too loud and he feared somebody would hear you. His hands gripped your waist, your body jolting with every thrust as your nails clawed at any inch of him you could get your hands on. Your walls squeezed around him, tight and warm and so fucking welcoming that he never wanted to leave. 

And he couldn’t bring himself to do so even after you finally came, following himself seconds later as you both stayed there, propped on the edge of the table with Remus still deep inside you. 

“Sir—”

“Remus,” he corrected as he pressed a bruising kiss to your lips. “Call me Remus when I’m inside you, baby.”

.

[milla-frenchy]

Fav Joel series

All of them are 18+ and nsfw

Please check for each fic all the warnings indicated by the author

Summaries are those written by the authors

Raider Joel @toxicanonymity

You think Joel is saving you from the bad guys, but he's claiming you for himself. You're his now, and he won't let you or his men forget it. How long until Stockholm syndrome sets in? Will his persona start to crack?

Slasher Joel @toxicanonymity

He's a tow truck driver and you're stranded. You're already DTF but end up fucking for your life when you offend him.

Night walks @toxicanonymity

Joel, an older neighbor you've been walking with late at night, asks you into his basement to sell him weed but not really. You can't stop fucking him after that.

Carnal @pascalsbby

You thought you had it all figured out before him. Animals. Tender, primal flesh. That’s what we are at the end of the day, no? Fucking, testing one another and then eating each other alive, heart first. Maybe the heart is the sweetest part of the body- or maybe it’s just the easiest to get to. You knew you wanted to be completely devoured by him. You wanted to fill the space between his teeth.

Dom!Joel @atticrissfinch

The wrong number that texts you ends up being a man much hotter than you’d ever expect…

⭐ Meet me in the back @atticrissfinch

When the gas station clerk refuses to sell you alcohol after a shitty day, you need to get creative

I know it when I see it @bageldaddy

It's the golden age of porn. sex and sin are the national pastime. Your career in adult films starts opposite a man who goes by the name texas.

I can be your pretty girl @walkintotheriveranddisappear

After your bodily insecurities stop you from exploring your sexuality, your dad's best friend offers to help you gain some confidence and help prepare you for experiences with men. as things progress with joel, you realize he's taking advantage of you, but that doesn't stop you from having a good time, too.

Online friends @walkintotheriveranddisappear

Hot single dilfs in your area want to chat, and you're more than willing to comply (anonymous sex chatting with joel)

Something wretched about this @covetyou

Your father has been medicating his long term illness for as long as you can remember, and he'd always been grateful to find medication suppliers even after the world went to shit. When he can't pay up, what lengths will you go to to protect your entire world?

Ravish @psychedelic-ink

Joel, only now starting to feel the impending sense of loneliness, decides to listen to Tommy and sign up on an online streaming service called Ravish.

Ghost of you @thetriumphantpanda

Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller. 

Trial & error @thetriumphantpanda

Tommy has always been the loyal and doting boyfriend, the literal man of your dreams. Ready to take things to the next step, you soon find that Tommy is unable to have children. A family is all you’ve ever wanted, and neither of you are going to let this get in your way. Enter Joel, dark and mysterious and willing to do anything for his little brother, including fucking his girlfriend to get her pregnant. That’s what brothers are for, right?

Come away with me @thetriumphantpanda

Four years have passed and you’ve managed to raise a beautiful baby boy into a sweet little boy. Four years of one night with Joel Miller and countless others with his brother. You’ve been trying for months now for your second baby and it’s proving much more difficult than first time around, so Joel has a plan. One week, alone, on the lake, with one goal - another baby.

A lover's pinch @hier--soir

A one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. joel miller is entirely off limits. but now that you’ve had a taste, will you be able to keep your hands to yourselves?

You summer dream @swiftispunk

Fresh on the heels of the worst breakup of your life, you find an unexpected kindred spirit in joel miller, who's agreed to tag along for seven days to a tropical resort with you and your parents.

Lost in the dark @iamasaddie

One time you decide to cheat on your boyfriend is, of course, the time his dad catches you. Once normal relationship turns into something new, and you are forced to face the fucked up reality of your life

Hard to be soft, tough to be tender @iamasaddie

Desperation was never a good advisor, and yours led to find yourself as a very special person among Joel Miller's birds. You'll have to see for yourself if you have what it takes to live up to the status, and in the meantime Joel will "train" you and take care of you. // Joel Miller is a pimp and you are at your all time low, that's it.

Feelings on fire @joelscruff

You're back from college for the summer, staying with your devout catholic parents in your childhood home while they order you around and try to keep authority over you. as an act of rebellion you ask your new neighbor mr. miller to teach you how to play guitar, but it turns out there's a lot more he wants to teach you.

With pleasured hands @magpiepills

You’re Tommy Miller’s girlfriend, you’re on vacation with him and Joel, Tommy likes it when you’ve got an audience, Joel prefers being an active participant

Bullet for you darlin' @kewwrites - Dead dove do not eat

Joel takes something a little more personal from you after you run out of things to trade

Sunshine @kewwrites - Dead dove do not eat

A look at the innocent relationship between Sunshine and Joel till one night something changes the course of their relationship forever. 'Loss and heartbreak often turn the best of us into our worst selves.'

⭐ latest series added (11/18/2023)

HUGE thank you to all the authors 🙏🙏🙏

Fics recs

[carakook]

In honor of 100 followers (I know, I’m being dramatic af, whateverrrrr) I’m making a poll to see if you guys want me to release some more fanfics! Spoiler… they’re all with Jungkook… oops. 🥲

Below you will find a cover photo for each and a brief explanation of each! (Each of these are stories I have in my drafts so… already have them ready to release for the first few chapters!)

❥Cry: Jungkook is your ex boyfriend who refuses to let you go. Your relationship ended messy and hurtful, but he regrets it so much. You remained friends, because you both still love each other despite what happened. But Jungkook never wanted to be friends. Never planned on staying friends. He wants you back badly, and he always will.

❥ It may sound toxic but this one is actually very sweet, there is some emotional shit involved, but imagine Seven MV Jungkook… that’s the kind of persistent he is. He just wants you to let him love you again, 7 days a week, forever and ever. 🥺

❥ This one was inspired by the song Cry by Cigarettes After Sex, so… be warned LMAO. My specialty is making myself cry when I write, and you too! 😃

❥(Platonic) Boyfriend: Just two besties who totally don’t want to fuck and totally don’t like each other… You and Jungkook have been best friends since your early college days. You have always been close… maybe a little too close. Your friendship often gets mistaken for a relationship or something more because of how close you are. There are no boundaries between you two; you’re constantly touching each other, have seen each other naked, and talk about sex as if it’s the weather. But you’ve never crossed that line… you both swear it’s platonic! Neither of you even like dating, so why the fuck would you date each other? (You’re both very fucking delusional.)

❥If you are tired of me making you cry, this is probably more of your speed LOL. This story does have some emotional stuff but it is no where near the level of emotion Bloom holds. It will be very fluffy and steamy, has a bit of jealousy, and you are both very in denial about each other. Jungkook in this story is a lot like a golden retriever, but also he’s a little shit. You both struggle with commitment in this story because of different reasons (apparently I like writing about people with commitment issues?), but refuse to acknowledge what the real issue is…

❥This story is also very inspired by a song called Jennie by Studio Killers, it was viral for some time on tiktok. Give it a listen! As you can tell music inspires me a lot lol. The cover photo above isn’t the official one I’ll be using, not sure where I want to go with it yet, but does give you the vibes.

❥Metamorphosis: Celeste is a single mom who had to grow up way too fast. She never planned for her life to be this way, she swore she’d get married and have a beautiful family forever… but the stars didn’t align that way. Now at the age of 24, she’s struggling to make ends meet while taking care of her 5 year old daughter Nabi, and the cherry on top is how bad her mental health has gotten. But she’s trying her best, and loves her daughter more than anything. She swore she would never even look at another man after her ex… but one night, she does something very uncharacteristic in a desperate attempt to feel something… and Jeon Jungkook, completely starts fucking her world up.

❥Full disclaimer, this is an emotional story JUST like Bloom. Lots of references to butterflies and stars, you’ll understand more as you read. Jungkook is also a sweetheart in this story (when isn’t he?), but he has a fuckboy persona. Keep in mind the word persona… in reality, he’s just as afraid of woman as Celeste is of men. They both have similar traumas in the story without even knowing it.

❥It will be very angsty and emotional, but also wholesome. I decided to go the OC route in this one because I don’t know if a lot of people could relate to rhe MC. But, I am more than happy to make it a JK x Reader story as well!! Just leave a comment if you’d rather it be like that. The cover photo seems simple but has SO much meaning behind the story… notice how there are 3 butterflies? Anyway… 😇

❥Focus on Bloom: If you haven’t already, check out my story Bloom on my page! If you guys are really loving that, I am more than happy to focus on it. But also wanted to see if anyone would be interested in anything else I have saved in my drafts. I can always release the other stories at a later time if you guys want me to focus on Bloom. The cover photo was the original photo I made when I wrote the first chapter. 😅

[fourmula1]

maybe we can talk about 2023 max and daniel who have never had Interest in each other Like That before. it’s always been platonic, good friends, nothing underlying at all. team mates, friends, buddies, all good. they’ve each had happy and successful relationships with women, never questioned their sexuality, life’s been good.

but.

it’s 2023 and daniel’s back at red bull and. and. hm. where things were easy and fun as team mates, they stayed okay when daniel left red bull but the last couple years have been hard and daniel’s been distant and putting on a fake smile and max knows he’s been struggling. but this year off, these months together at the factory and the car launch and melbourne and. daniel is looking good and healthy and warm, again. he lights up when max makes him laugh and there’s a. a weird. swooping sensation in max’s tummy about it. 

but surely that’s not… he’s felt those feelings - those tummy swoops and the prickle of warmth and the gasp in his heart - with his girlfriends before. but this is daniel. and max is 25. he’s pretty sure if he liked men he’d have felt at least something before now, right? he doesn’t like daniel. well, he does. a lot. very much a lot. but they’re friends! he likes his friends.

but he doesn’t feel twisty turny inside when lando smiles at him. or when alex claps him on the shoulder. or when he hugs martijn. 

so there’s that. 

and daniel, meanwhile. daniel’s approaching 34 and he’s not sure what’s happening to him because he’s always enjoyed getting the steely, serious shell of max to crack open brighter than the sun when he laughs. and he’s always liked hanging out with max and going on runs together in monaco, out of breath not from running but from running and laughing, driving michael and brad insane with their inside jokes and giggles and fucking around and not keeping their running form because they’re too busy playing. and media duties have never been fun except when he gets to do stupid challenges or quizzes or tasks with max. so. 

and he’s feeling…. nervous. nervous because he’s been in love before, for sure, and it felt like…. this. but max is a man and daniel’s never had a single romantic or sexual thought about a man in 33 fucking years so what the fuck? what the fuck.

anyway. so. they’re both in england for factory shit and maybe they’re holed up one night in max’s flat because daniel hasn’t gotten his own place yet, probably won’t because max has a guest room. and they’re both not really sure about how Things Have Been Feeling Lately but like. max sits down on the couch a little closer than would be… normal for two guy friends hanging out and daniel is so acutely aware of the closeness and he. his heart pounds in his chest when max is so, so, so fucking brave and let’s his pinky finger between their legs stretch out to brush against daniel’s thigh. 

testing. 

and daniel’s breath hitches and so max jerks his hand away and now they’re both breathing a little heavier, both hearts racing, both so scared because what is happening to them? and daniel says, it’s okay max. and max asks, is it?

if we both… want it…, daniel says. and max flushes warm and pink all over. 

both? max asks, shy, unable to look at daniel.

maxy, daniel says. finds his own nerve to hook his pinky finger over max’s.

and they don’t know what they’re doing at all. their first kiss is so fucking weird and awkward because it’s not naturally occurring. both too nervous to let it happen organically, to make the first move, so they talk and decide to just. kiss. and see if it’s Anything. and the thing is, is that it’s So Much. there’s more swoopy tummies and more racing hearts and there’s also stubble? and that’s a new and weird feeling. and who leads? they’ve both known How It Goes with their female partners but neither of them are women so now what?

the first time daniel is brave and presses his hand over the crotch of max’s pants he’s like, well. that sure is a dick. but max is hard, too, and that means he’s doing something right. and also when they get naked together the first time… daniel’s never seen a dick at this angle before. he’s seen and touched his own plenty but now he’s faced with max’s dick in front of him and the different weight and size of max in his hand, compared to his own. that’s new and different and. good. it’s good. 

they’ve both never sucked a dick before either so that’s awkward and funny and they know in theory how it should be done, but in practice it’s much different. but they learn, together. try things. ask, what feels nice? what do you like? and they laugh, and laugh, and laugh because it’s awkward with their inexperience but it’s so nice to try, to learn, to do together, and it’s so, so good. 

it’s weird, falling in love with a man well into your adulthood. daniel doesn’t know what to make of it but he just. loves max. and he can feel max loving him. that’s enough. 

and they figure it all out. together. 

[inkelea]

flying kisses across the globe! ✭

pairing: nonidol!yang jeongin x gn!reader

synopsis: how is it to be in a long-distance relationship with jeongin.

genre: fluff, angst, nonidol!au, friends to lovers kinda, long-distance relationship au, headcanons.

warnings: no use of y/n, no mentions of pronouns but the word pretty is used.

word count: 0.6k

a/n: I haven’t posted since june💀, but im back!!! i don’t really know what to think of this but i’ve been writing this for over a month so it had to be delivered. hope you like these innie hcs bc i don’t really know if it makes him justice.

it all started in senior year of high school

what can i say, you both were whipped right after seeing each other for the first time. some would say it was love at first sight

it was actually friends to lovers!!!

well, more like desk partners to lovers

what started as innocent questions about the class topic ended up as hands brushing under the desks. and stolen glances across the cafeteria. and rambling about each other to your friends

take for granted the tease from your friends every single time

“are you looking at yang jeongin?” “what? no!” they all know you are

it’s true to say that you spend your senior year in a pink world surrounded by hearts

but then you get a scholarship to go to university in another country. and he stays in seoul:(

it’s hard, but you decide to try a long-distance relationship bc again, you are WHIPPED

you facetime after getting out of class and study dates are secured!!!!

“you should be looking at your homework, not me” “you’re more interesting though”

his grades definitely go down, but he doesn’t particularly care

however, you do. finals become rough times, more than you expected them to be

it’s not like you need a break, but his grades clearly do, so you stop facetiming for some weeks.

you still text, but tbh, the content of the messages tend to lean more into the small talk spectrum than the lovebirds one

those are some lonely times for you

but at least his grades went back up. and that’s what matters, right?

finals end and you can finally relax!

right after, LITERALLY TWO MINUTES AFTER you end your last exam, you are met with a phone call

“i miss you so much”

that’s the first thing you hear

“i know that it was kinda my fault and that you were only looking out for me. but please, no more: no-talking stages. i promise to study”

brain.exe has stopped working

after that, your relationship couldn’t be stronger

saturday movie night is A MUST!

you’re engulfed in a big big blanket and your computer is on with jeongin in a video call. he’s sideways and eating as much popcorn as he can, his side profile in full display to you. both of your eyes are glossy due to the late hour and sleepiness, but neither cares

you definitely fall asleep still on call

most times your battery runs out. NEVERTHELESS, there are those times when it holds on for dear life and you get to see messy hair and puffy cheeks jeongin

at first he’s kind of embarrassed

but with time he learns to enjoy spending sunday mornings with you

flying kisses is your thing

a compliment? “thanks😍” flying kisses. goodbye? “talk later, i love you” flying kisses

it isn’t a real conversation between you two if there aren’t flying kisses in the middle of it

you DEEPLY hold onto the hoodies you brought with you

they don't smell like him anymore:(, but they hold memories

quicker than you know summer is already starting

you pack as fast as possible and take the first flight to seoul that you can find

the hug you share might be the longest time you’ve spent hugging, and still, it felt too short. taking your arms off of him probably was the hardest thing of the year, but you still did

he’s not big on physical contact, but he hasn’t seen you in almost a year. he almost forgot how you smelled like so excuse him for trying to get back the time lost

“you’re as pretty as i remembered”

you spend the summer going on dates to the beach

and the museum

and the theater

AND EVERYWHERE

you know you’ll have to separate again after the summer, but you’re too busy in each other’s arms to care.

© inkelea on tumblr | don't copy, repost or plagiarize my work.

[annaphoenix1994]

You're My Heaven

Masterlist

After knowing Simon for eight years, you two almost fell into a romantic relationship. But given the risks involved as well as Simon's deep fear of losing you, you two mutually agreed to stay close friends. His feelings never foundered for you and neither did yours. Unfortunately, it took your fatality to make Simon realize that he wished to take the risk of having you as his lover instead of having to tell you he loved you before you died.

Author's note: This is nothing close to romantic, unfortunately. I've been very depressed for the past few weeks and I felt like writing about something sad may help me overcome this. Believe me, I cried when I finished this and while I was composing this, so I'm sorry in advance. 

This prompt is also heavily inspired by the show 1883 and if anyone has watched it, you can picture exactly how emotional this will be. If you haven't, I highly suggest you check it out! You can watch it on Paramount+ or if you don't want to pay for a membership (like me), you can watch it for free on myflixer.vc.

I'm sorry for breaking y'all's hearts! I've cried every single time I've opened this page to edit it!

*

Eight years. 

Eight longs years you've been incorporated with what was now Task Force 141. Having many operations under your belt, another accomplishment to you was being able to know Ghost - Simon - on a personal level, more personal than even his closest comrades have. 

Of course, your relationship was simply platonic. At one point, you both had expressed your emotions between each other, but given Simon's deep fear of losing someone he loves for having experienced it before, you both agreed to stay close in a platonic way versus a romantic way on mutual terms. 

He couldn't lie, he always was immensely attracted to you - how you always seemed to be his own personal beacon for emotional and physical support whenever he needed it. 

Just like he was for you. 

Outside of the military, you unfortunately had nobody waiting for you at home. No family, no close friends, no partner, nothing. 

A part of Simon wondered if that's why you stayed in the military for so long as your comrades, especially him, became a sort of comfort for you that you both knew you didn't have when you were on leave. This knowledge killed him the second year he knew you, leading him to eventually finding himself taking you out to places to help fill the void on your loneliness while you both were on leave. 

He wanted to have you as his life partner so bad, but due to his dark history at no fault of his own, he couldn't bear the thought of losing you to one of his enemies, even though the likeliness of it happening again was slim to none. 

But he figured that if he could keep you as a close friend, you'd be safe to be in his personal life without having that superior personal connection like lovers would. 

Even though you two occasionally did things as lovers, but nobody else needed to know that. These acts included gift-giving on birthdays (yes, Simon eventually unveiled a piece of his private life by telling you his birthday), holidays, and randomly. Simon was the type to get you a gift while on leave by simply seeing something he thought you'd like, even going as far as getting you flowers when you were lonely. You'd go to a movie together every now and then, went to cafes together, and just simply would be in each other's presence. 

There was no denying that it was lovely. 

Everything seemed euphoric...

Until you had gotten stabbed by an enemy with a filth-inducing and rusted blade, tearing into your liver like a scorched knife to a brick of butter. 

It was completely unexpected to you as the fight was not as close as you'd expect. Adrenaline kept the pain away as the blade was fully sheathed inside of you, keeping your fight with your enemy until Soap had come to your rescue as Ghost was on his way from overwatch. 

A mission gone wrong and not accordingly to plan. 

"Fuck," You groaned, looking down to see the knife still sheathed into your side, cupping your hands around the handle as the adrenaline wore off. 

"Don't-" Soap blurted, stopping you from pulling out the knife. "Don't pull it out. Price, we need evac immediately. Have a medic on site." 

"Copy that, Sergeant. Are you injured?" 

"No, Y/N is." He breathed a reply, knowing that Ghost was going to be livid once he found out you were injured again, not that it hasn't happened before, just that he wouldn't know the extent of your injuries until he was able to see you. 

 "Sitrep?" 

"Ghost, stay on overwatch for enemy activity until this dies over," Price answered. "The Sergeant and I will get her to the exfil site. Sergeant Garrick will accompany you on overwatch." 

"Yes, sir." 

After nightfall, Ghost and Gaz returned to their temporary safe haven for the next few weeks - a base nowhere near civilization, something that could be viewed as both a sanctuary and hell on earth. 

In your case, this was hell on earth for you. 

"Ghost, Gaz," Price called from the nearby tent. "A word on recon?" 

"It's all clear, sir," Gaz replied, nodding. "No enemy movement detected after you left." 

"Good. Ghost, come with me." 

Simon heaved a breath, knowing that the look in his Captain's eyes was nothing but pleasant. "How is she?" He questioned. 

"Medic removed the blade..." Price answered, dread coating his voice. 

"That's not what I asked, Price." 

"She's stable, for now. The nurse reported a slight fever and has her on an IV drip now, but he can't get the medication he needs from a doctor for another week." 

"So, what does this mean?" 

"I-I don't know, Simon-"

"Can I see it? The blade?" 

Price nodded as he escorted Ghost towards the medical tent, entering to frown at the sight of you on the bed, eyes lazily open while your aching body lay on the bed. "How're you feeling?" He spoke softly at you, standing next to the bed and curling his gloved index finger against the top of your hand. 

"It doesn't hurt," You replied, reassuring him of a soft smile - a smile he grew to adore with how your dimples caved in on your cheeks and your innocent eyes peering up at him - a look on your face that made his heart swell at the sight alone. "Not at all." 

"Still on the adrenaline high, love," He breathed a chuckle as his eyes moved down to where your wound was, exhaling a deep breath through his nose at the realization and needed to urgently seek for reassurance - reassurance from anyone but you right now. "Excuse me." 

Exiting the tent, Simon laid eyes on Soap who had been eating the last of his MRE, "Sergeant." 

"L.T?" 

"I need to ask you something." 

"Sure." 

"How bad was it?"

Soap frowned, "Bad enough. The nurse got the blade out and cauterized it, but without the proper medicine we need with the doctor, I don't know how long her liver can take it-"

"Her liver?" Ghost scoffed, refusing to accept the fatal fact. 

"With as close as that blade was, we're sure it hit one way or the other," Soap frowned, shaking his head. "I just hope that surgeon can get here fast." 

"What's his status?" 

"We don't know yet. The nurse is still waiting on him to signal back-"

"Why can't he call?" 

"We're remote. You know this. Off the grid unfortunately. We have to use what we got." 

Ghost shook his head, still refusing to believe what he had just heard as he turned on his heel to lay his own eyes on the blade itself, only to meet Price halfway as he held the weapon of discussion in his hand. "Let me see it." 

He frowned, opening his hand to reveal the knife that will fatally take your life. 

And in this case, you don't have the luxury of flying to a hospital. The base is off the grid, which had its benefits, but nothing prepared anyone for this. A helicopter had to be signaled in by flares - and that's if the helicopter was within range to see the signal. Comms barely could be understood, and emails/phone signal was unheard of since the team arrived.

With limited flares on the base, your death was slowly on the horizon and your clock was ticking out, but you just didn't know it yet. 

But God, Simon did. Along with the rest of the team. 

They just didn't have the heart to tell you. 

Your eyes held a life in them that they wished they could see, your smile held a vibrance that they kept close and dear to their hearts, your laugh brought them so much joy, even if your laugh distracted yourself from your own depression.

"It's filthy, Simon." Price frowned, handing the Lieutenant the knife in question. 

"But she's young. Soap said they got it out quick. She's so strong." He replied in denial. 

He didn't want to believe it.

Simon bowed his head, shaking it subtly, "She's going to die, isn't she?" 

"Don't think that way, Simon-"

"I'm a simple man, Price. I'm through being delusional." 

The Captain sighed through his nostrils, "I don't know how long she has. We have to wait until we can hear for an air lift and get her to a hospital. She doesn't have a fever now, but if she develops a fever and we can't get any help, I would guess maybe... a week."

"A bloody week," Simon grumbled. "Alright." 

Price knew that there was more than just a friendship going on. Perhaps what he would call a "mutual understanding of emotions." 

Either way, Price knew that Simon had very strong feelings towards you just like you did for him. 

Price hesitated before he put his palm on the Lieutenant's shoulder, doing his best to comfort him in what was to come, "I have faith in her recovery, Simon. She's young and so strong-"

"And she's the light of my life, Price. She fills a void in my soul that I didn't know I had," Ghost replied, his voice low as his heart broken. If it wouldn't have been Price he was talking to, he would have never admitted that you meant so much to him without any hesitation. "She... She's going to die." 

"Don't you dare, Simon-"

"She's going to die and it's going to tear me apart," He replied, his heart broken but his voice firm. Price could see it in his eyes that if he was alone, they would be full of tears, but instead, his brown irises were surrounded by a light shade of pink. "And if I don't accept it now, she's going to die in some hospital with some doctor doping her up until she can't see straight because it'll be too late. And I would have robbed her. She needs to see every sunset and sunrise with those big dreamer eyes."

"And what should we do when she starts asking how everything is looking?" Price scoffed. 

"We will lie to her and tell her she is fine. I need to let her look at this world the way she does, no matter how cruel it is." 

Price bowed his head and cleared his throat, fighting back tears of his own. He saw you as a daughter of his and was there from the very beginning - admiring how you were the only one who was able to break Ghost of his attitude, how he was never as stern with you as he was the others, how he always seemed to be somewhere alongside you until you got your bearings to take actions on your own, how he taught you how to fight better, and how he even taught you how to make a tea that suited your taste just so he could have an excuse to have you join him for a cup in the morning. Although Simon would always deny it when Price asked, the Captain knew that his best Lieutenant was very much in love.

And he even gave him permission to seek you in romantic interest, as long as he kept it under wraps to avoid altering your careers. 

"Then what're you going to do?"

"Where we bury her is where I stay, but not here. She needs to be where I know I can visit and just be some mound of dirt in the middle of this place."

"I'll find a place-"

"No, I need to find a place. By the grace of God, I will find a place." 

The Captain nodded, "I'll leave you to take things how you want, Simon. Just remember one thing,"

"What's that?" 

"Don't ever be too late to tell her how you feel. It wouldn't be fair to her to forever wonder where you two stood." 

Ghost nodded, watching Price walk away before he made his way into the tent to sit by your bedside. 

"Leave it to me to get myself stabbed in a gunfight." You giggled, watching his gaze strike into you before sitting down on the nearby chair. 

"Yeah," He sighed. "You have an act for getting yourself in trouble." 

"You always tell me that." You scoffed. 

"Do I need to remind you how you had to call me to bail you out of jail for getting into a fight at the market?" You could tell he was arching his brow under his balaclava. 

"You remind me enough," You rolled your eyes. "You weren't there, so you don't know the whole story!" 

"I know plenty, love. What do you want to eat?" 

"Oh, do I get to choose a four course meal? I need to get injured more often."

"Sure, you have three excellent choices of MRE's. You can choose from chicken alfredo, spaghetti and meatballs, and chicken soup. I'll even be nice and offer you my beef stew." He scoffed, his heart swelling once he had heard you laugh at his sarcasm. 

I'll miss your laugh.

"And I'll be nice and let you keep your beef stew and just have chicken soup. It always makes me feel better." 

"Aren't you a sweetheart. Would you rather try to eat now or before you go to sleep?" 

"I'm feeling pretty tired. I think I'd rather try to eat now so that I fall asleep on a full stomach." 

"You got it, love. I'll be back. Care to have someone to eat with?" 

"You... You've never eaten with me before while on duty?" You furrowed your brows, suddenly confused. Even when you have gotten hurt in the past, Ghost never sat alongside you while you were in the medic's tent. 

Ever. 

You watched him huff, "I could've lost you. I wasn't there to keep it from happening. I just... realize that it could've happened at any moment and I don't want to take it for granted." 

He was waiting for you to respond, growing uncomfortable at how you stared deeply into his eyes, knowing you were searching for a lie. But thanks to his balaclava, he was able to conceal his true expression behind the nylon and harden his gaze to make it look like he was being honest with you, which is what you'd known him for, but there was something in his eyes that you couldn't quite pinpoint and it nearly drove you to ask him what he was hiding from you. 

"Okay," You smiled weakly. "Well, I won't be going anywhere anytime soon." 

Once Simon returned, he held two MRE's and two bottles of water in his hands, setting them on the side table before helping you sit up. "Still feeling ill?" 

"I feel like I might be getting a fever," You breathed. "My head hurts and I'm burning up." 

"That comes with the territory, love," He assured you, his heart breaking at the worrisome condition that began to progress. "You'll feel overheated after a stab wound." 

"I'm sure you have a lot of experience in that."

"You should know I do," He breathed a chuckle while his right hand splayed between your shoulder blades while the other let you grab it to stabilize yourself while he helped you sit up in the bed. "Been in your position many times." 

"And you still never took off that damn mask." 

"Know me so well." 

I know you too well, Simon, you thought. When I looked into your eyes, I saw your worry. I saw how you desperately tried to keep a straight face behind that mask, but I've grown to know your eyes - the window to your soul - and I could see that your soul was somehow more broken than I remembered. Like you were already mourning me, looking at me like you knew it was coming. Maybe I'm overthinking like you always say, but the velocity of my injury is nowhere near as simple. You knew stab wounds and their effects better than any medic after being stabbed as many times as you have. You knew something I didn't, but a part of me was too scared to ask.

"You sore?" 

"Very," You sighed. "Will it hurt this bad tomorrow?" 

"The next day is always the worst." 

"What about the day after?" 

"That part's a mystery." 

*

Four days. 

Those four days were heated for you as you had developed a fever through the forty-degree weather of the rugged terrain of Alberta. 

"Can you take me to the creek?" You asked, your voice hoarse with beads of sweat along your forehead and brow, your skin hot to the touch when Simon removed his glove to press the back of his hand to your forehead. 

"If you're thirsty, I can go get you some water-"

"No, Simon," You shook your head. "I'm burning up and I want to lay in the water." 

"Love, it's forty degrees outside and it's only noon. You'll get sicker-"

"No, it'll stop the bleeding," You breathed, realizing that your health was deteriorating by the horrible gift of time. "My people would do this to their tribe when others got sick. It helps with the fever." 

"Your people?" 

"I'm a descendant of the Crow Tribe close to Paradise Valley, Simon. I've told you this," You breathed a weak laugh. "I thought you didn't forget anything!" 

"I don't, love," He assured you, gently wrapping his arm around your waist to help you walk while your arm curved around his shoulder to stabilize yourself. "I remember that story of how you used to mark horses for the relay." 

"If only those markings would work on me," You breathed a laugh. "They wouldn't have let me get worse. I just want this fever to go away so I can get better." 

"We all do," He frowned behind his balaclava. "But you will. Did you eat what I brought you this morning?" 

"Barely." 

You whimpered as he helped you to the nearby creek. He saw the blue bags under your eyes but your eyes still held that familiar light he grew to love over time. "Are you sure you want to step foot in this?" 

"Yes, Simon." 

He nodded before he set the blanket he had brought with him aside on the dry ground before watching you discard your shoes, grasping his hand as he helped you into the shallow water, admiring how you weren't bothered with the temperature of the water as he winced at the sensation of it seeping through his boots. "Help me lay down?" 

"You're crazy, love," He shook his head, thinking that you only wanted to soak your feet into the water. "Are you sure?" 

"My people have done this for hundreds of years," You scoffed. "I'll soak in here until I can stop the bleeding, then I'll go into the tent and start to make steam." 

"Alright, just tell me what I need to do." 

"Help me lay down and just keep me from floating away, okay?" 

He smirked behind his balaclava, "You won't float away anywhere on my watch." 

"Copy that." 

Your lip quivered as you lay in the freezing water, doing your best to relax and focus on steady breathing to lower your body temperature as well as stopping the bleeding that began to progress over the last couple of days. You looked up to see Simon's concerned gaze down on you before you lifted up your shirt to show the wound that would soon be responsible for taking your life. He continued to stay crouched next to you while you searched his eyes for how he looked at your wound, looking for some type of reassurance from your own doubts. 

I feel different now, Simon. I look to you for answers when I don't know them myself. Aside from myself, you've become to be the only person who knows me just as good. And when I looked at your eyes when you looked at my wound, I saw nothing. I saw no sign of relief nor worry. It was blank. You watched the blood drain from my liver and had no words of reassurance that I was looking for, but yet still told me that I was going to get better. My soul then felt stripped away from my body, like it had been loose and disconnected since it happened. I then looked up at the sky and somehow felt that I was back in my tribe from a hundred years ago. I studied into your eyes, Simon - looked deep into them. The more I looked, the more I saw what I wouldn't expect. I saw fear in your eyes.

That's when I knew...

I was going to die. 

After fifteen minutes, you decided that you wanted to get out and begin making your steam in the confines of your tent. After silently whispering a native prayer, you were unaware that Simon's heart broke every time he heard a weak whimper leave your lips. 

"You know what I'm afraid of the most about dying? It's being forgotten in some grave or on the side of a hillside somewhere." 

"Nobody is going to forget you, Y/N," He corrected. "And you're not dying." 

"You look at me like I'm dying." 

"I look at you for what you are, love. You're the most important thing to me on this planet and it comes with a lot of worry just in case you haven't noticed." 

Once he had helped you lay down, he let you be alone like you had requested once the steam began to grow, gently laying a blanket over your shoulders before he assured you that he would be outside by the fire, taking some time for himself. 

He listened closely for any signs of distress, occasionally hearing a native prayer every few minutes. 

"How is she?" Price asked as he and Soap met him to offer any comfort for their comrade. 

Ghost shook his head at them, "There's swelling in her liver. It either heals or it fails. Any word on that bird?" 

"We've sent signals all week," Price sighed. "We only have four left. We're going to shoot one tonight and another in the morning." 

"Roger," Ghost nodded, looking at the ground between his knees. "All I can do is hope and pray... If that even means anything." 

"It means something, L.T.," Soap encouraged. "She'll be alright." 

"One way or the other." 

"Are you sure there's swelling in her liver?" 

"I cupped my hand over it, Price," He sighed. "Fresh blood came out of that wound, not old." 

Suddenly, their heads turned to look at you stumbling out of your tent, a blanket covering your shoulders, your face drenched with sweat and tears, a thin stream of clear snot leaving your nose as Simon helped you ease down on the log next to him. "Feeling any better?" 

You paused, closing your eyes as your face scrunched to produce more tears, "You lied." 

He looked straight ahead, nodding and facing the accusation as Price and Soap both decided to dismiss themselves. "I'm sorry." He managed to respond, his heart shattered into a million pieces before he gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him as you uncontrollably sobbed. 

"I'm dying!" 

"I know, love," He closed his eyes, using every ounce of his being to hold back the tears threatening to brink his eyes. "I'm sorry."

You buried your face into his chest that was rid of his tactical vest, smelling his natural scent of musk and sweat while your other arm reached out to grasp his bicep while his left arm clasped the outside of your knee, keeping you close to him as you sobbed. "Can you make me a promise?" 

"Anything?" He replied, his voice broken. 

"I want to choose a spot." 

His eyes closed again at the sound of those words leaving your lips, his heart breaking even more knowing that he had to acknowledge that promise. He owed you that much. "You choose a spot and I'll make sure you get there." 

He felt you nod against his chest as you wept, "Why did you lie?" You asked, feeling a certain calmness to his heartbeat. 

"I didn't want to rob you of your outlook on life by being hooked up to monitors and being so drugged up until you couldn't see straight. You've outlived me - you've outlived all of us. I'm thirty-two years old and you've out smiled me, out loved me, and certainly outlived me. It would've been selfish of me to have you suffer when you're the least deserving of any sort of suffering. I lied to you to keep that worry off of your shoulders because as much as it breaks my heart to see you like this, it would've hurt more to have to tell you that you were bound for an awful fate when we couldn't get a bird out here to take you to a hospital. I know you, love, and it would've worried you to death." 

You sniffled, "I never thought I'd be happy that you were unfair to me." 

He barely smirked as his hand snuck up to cradle your head, keeping your face close to his chest as you two sat there for what seemed like hours. 

Once you had accepted your demise, you looked through your dry eyes to look up at Price, "Helo saw our flare. They're inbound."

Simon nodded, "It's time to go, love." 

You slowly loosened your grip on him as he stood to his feet, offering you his hand while Price gladly stood on the other side of you, letting you use them as a crutch as they escorted you to the medic's tent, gently setting you in a provided wheelchair to help ease your pain. You didn't see it, but a tear slipped from Simon's eye as he grabbed your small duffel bag that contained every personal item you were allowed to carry with you on your deployment.

He looked down at you to ensure your blanket was still snug around your shoulders as he began to push you towards the small tarmac big enough for a single helicopter. Your eyes filled with fresh tears when you saw Soap and Gaz waiting for you. 

To tell you goodbye. 

"Y/N, it was a bloody good time being by your side." Gaz forced a smile, his heart breaking too once he saw your condition had gotten worse. 

"I can't remember a sunset I've seen that's been as pretty as you," Soap teased, knowing it always got under Simon's skin once he learned that he wasn't the only one to find you attractive when you first met. "You'll always be the one that got away." 

"Johnny, you gotta be pretty damn good looking to think the one you never had got away from you." You giggled, making he and Gaz laugh. 

"Always got the jokes, I see." 

"Go back to Scotland, you pretty son of a bitch." 

"Aye." 

They both pat your shoulder as you passed by, their touch lingering just a bit more as they realized it was the last time they'd see you. 

"Nikolai, take them where they need to go!" Price shouted from the intense sound of the chopper's blades. 

"Yes, sir!" 

Both Price and Ghost helped your weak body into the helicopter, Ghost putting on a set of protective hearing muffs. 

"It's been a pleasure, sweetheart." Price smiled at you, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from your cheek with his gloved thumb. 

"Thank you, Price. I'll see you later?" 

He knew what this meant, and it broke him entirely to realize her statement. "I'll see you later." 

Blinking away his tears, Price took a final glance at you before closing the chopper door. "Love, you need to tell me where we're going so I can tell him." 

"Paradise." You smiled weakly, knowing exactly that Simon would know where you were meaning. 

Paradise Valley - a home you had purchased years ago to stay frequently every other year or so. A place to soon call a permanent home once your time in the service was over. 

A new start. 

Turns out, a new start wouldn't be in your near future. 

Paradise Valley, Montana

"This is a nice place, love. Shame you never invited me." Simon chuckled as he effortlessly carried you onto the front porch of the house bridal style. 

"Well, consider this your invite," You sighed. "Not here, though." 

"Where to, then?" 

"Out the back. There's a spot there." 

He nodded, carrying you through the small house until he reached the backdoor, his eyes widening at the gorgeous scenery before him. "Down there." 

He followed where her finger pointed, seeing a small creek that ran through the thick forest. With ease, he carried you there, waiting for you to point to where you wanted to be set down, effortlessly easing you down onto the thickest grass he had seen for late fall in his entire life, laying down beside you and tossing his balaclava to the side. 

This was amongst the handful of times you had seen his bare face. 

"How's this?" He whispered. 

"Perfect," You hummed. "Isn't it beautiful?" 

"That it is." 

"What's your favorite memory?" 

"Don't have many, love," He sighed. "I'd have to think far about a favorite." 

"I'm not going anywhere." 

"How come you never sang to me?" 

"What?" You giggled. 

"Don't think I don't remember how you used to sing to Soap when he got a cold last year. I have to admit it now, I wish it was me that was sick just so I could hear it better." 

"Well, I also told you that I'd sing at your funeral, but we both see how that turned out." 

He squeezed you a bit tighter after that statement, "Please?" 

"You'll have to remember what you heard that night, Simon," You giggled. "What about another memory?" 

"Probably when you and I saw the elk in Poland. How you told me how your tribe viewed elk and then you told me some story on how they used to refer as horses as elk dogs. I always remembered that for some reason." 

"Do you want to know what I used to call a horse?" 

"Iichiile," You answered with a weak smile. "I always wondered what Heaven would be like, you know? I always thought it would be something like this: quiet with nothing but the sound of water and trees, maybe a few horses or bison running around and hearing the wolf at night. But sometimes, Heaven can be seen in a person, too. A person who takes away your personal Hell." 

He nodded, "I agree." 

"Are you comfortable?" 

"That's not a concern of mine right now, love." 

You sighed, relaxing into his arm that was under your head like a pillow as he lay behind you, his other arm draped over the side of your hip away from your fatal wound, keeping you as close as he could without causing you any pain. "I feel like I'm about to fall asleep." 

"Fall asleep, love." He whispered, exhaling shakily through his nose as his thumb rubbed circles against your clothed hip. 

A couple of hours later, you two had ended up falling asleep briefly before the evening chill had woken you up. Fluttering your eyes open, they seemed to sparkle once they laid upon a palomino horse grazing on the other side of the creek, its white mane and tail blowing in the soft wind. Once its head rose from the grass, you could have sworn you had seen a red circle on its chest.

War paint meaning "strong heart." 

"I know what it is now." You whispered. 

"Hm?" Simon replied, his voice low and hoarse. 

"I know what it is. Look," You whispered, nodding your head towards the palomino. Simon saw it, grinning as he could agree it was a beautiful sight, but he saw just a normal horse. No war paint, just its magnificent golden coat. "She's not wild, but has a strong heart for grazing alone." 

"Do they not usually?" 

"No. They're herd animals." 

"I didn't know that." 

You slowly turned to lay on your back, taking a last look up towards the sky as it was an orange and purple hue that sat comfortably behind the mountains. Briefly, you thought of one of your favorite songs: the fiddle version of Zach Bryan's "Something in the Orange". It fit perfectly.

"You're my Heaven, Simon." You whispered, your eyes beginning to fill with tears as you looked at his bare face. 

"You're mine too," He sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, savoring the last bit of your natural warmth, knowing he was going to miss it. "I'll hate myself forever for not making you mine sooner. I could've kept you from this." 

"It was meant to happen like this," You assured him. "I've always known I was yours, even though you were always so stubborn-"

"Remember, Simon, don't ever be too late to tell her how you feel. It wouldn't be fair to her to forever wonder where you two stood." 

Price's advice rang constantly throughout his mind. Now's the time, Simon. 

"I love you." 

He watched as a tear fell from your eye, using his hand to wipe it away, "Don't do that, love." 

"I love you too," You breathed. "All I ask is that I hope I can leave this life knowing what it was like to kiss you." 

"You should know I wasn't going to let that happen," He assured her, moving closer to your face before his lips locked with yours. It was soothing, like it was meant to happen indefinitely. "Where you rest is where I stay." 

You nodded slowly, moving your head to receive another kiss from him, wishing that you didn't have to limit how much you wanted to take from him before you went. "What about Manchester?" 

"There's nothing left for me there. I'll be here until I can be right next to you. Here is the closest I'll be to Heaven with you in it." 

"That's not true, Simon. I'll see you in the valley." 

He kissed your temple, "I'll meet you there." 

You couldn't help but cry as you moved your head closer to his chest as you continued to lay on your back, his right arm resting softly on your sternum as he cupped your head for a few more minutes. He kept his focus on your heartbeat that he could feel softly against his forearm, dreading the moment he wouldn't feel it anymore. He didn't want this moment to end, even though he felt it would be selfish of him to keep you here, but a part of him knew that you were ready. 

And he didn't want you to suffer. 

He felt you take a deep breath, his eyes opening immediately as his eyes searched for yours, "I'm not scared, Simon." 

"I've never known you to be scared, love-"

His assuring expression fell to a frown when he literally watched the gleam - that gleam that your eyes always held - fade from your eyes. He waited for you to blink, to twitch - something! 

He couldn't feel your heartbeat anymore, recalling the last time he felt your heart thud for the last time. He took a deep breath himself, looking up at the sky before a uncontrollable stream of tears left his eyes - tears he never thought he'd spill again after walking in to see his mom, brother, and nephew dead on the living room floor. He buried his face into your neck, feeling what was leftover of your natural warmth for as long as he could until your body turned cold. He smelled your hair - how natural it always was. "I'll meet you there one day. I promise," He sobbed into your skin. "Where you lay is where I stay." 

He laid with you until your body became cold, keeping his gaze on the horse that continued to graze across the creek. He then put the pieces together by what he could remember when you'd tell him tribal stories - how a horse would be seen before the death of a native to carry them to Heaven. Or in some tribes, a horse was to be buried with the native to carry them in the afterlife. 

He kept rubbing your skin with his thumb until you were completely cold, his brain immediately altering hope when he'd feel your limbs twitch in post-mortem, slowly being brought back to the reality that you weren't coming back. Placing the last kiss - which ended up to be the third - on your forehead, he slowly got up from where he was laying, wrapping your blanket around you while he left to go find a shovel. He knew he had to do this right, but he wanted to honor you the best he could, so he ended up having to make a call. 

One Year Later

With a consecutively broken heart, Simon returned to your home with the final suitcase of his belongings along with him to add to the pile of duffel bags and suitcases he had accumulated throughout the last year, having no time to truly put his things away due to his duties. But this year was different - he had completed his last tour and had time to focus on how he would truly honor you. Although he was glad to be done with his tour, he didn't know how he could keep his mind busy in the meantime. 

With a sigh, he brought his biggest suitcase into the bedroom that would've been known as ours instead of yours, setting it on the made bed that he had slept in when he missed you, the only blanket being the one you were last clutching to for warmth as your scent was still on it. Putting his best shirts on the hangers, he then opened your closet for the first time, seeing one of your favorite shirts that you had worn to the movies with him that one night in Poland to see the elk with him. He then wondered why you brought it here, but he never had the answer. His eyes filled with fresh tears as he slid your shirts to the far right of the closet, "I'm not removing them, love. Just... Just moving them over." 

After the next few hours and many tears later, he had finally finished unpacking his belongings. The cabin was small, yet comfortable. Just perfect, as Simon would say to himself. He had blamed himself every day for your death being his fault. 

Maybe if I would've told her I loved her sooner, she would've never been in that fight anyway!

Maybe if I would've been with her that day, I could've shot that bastard before he even got near her! 

It should've been me that was stabbed! 

I should've died first so that I could finally hear her sing to me! 

Like those many quiet evenings he spent at your house, he found himself looking at the creek that flowed alongside your final resting place: under the tree, ten feet away from the river. 

Every day, he fought the urge to cry over you again, knowing that it wouldn't get better, but easier every day. But even this, his heart still hurt. 

Suddenly, a faint nicker broke him from his thoughts. From the east, the same palomino horse he had seen every time he returned to Montana was in his line of sight. He wanted to keep the horse for himself as he knew the mare was the last animal you ever saw, but he knew that a true Crow Tribe horse would never be broken. Instead, he let the horse roam just like it did before, except he grew to gain the animal's trust over time. Never riding it, he always found himself buying a bag of apples and carrots every time he went to the store when he'd return from a deployment, the horse's treats being the first thing he got before he got food for himself. Just like he'd keep a pack of popcorn and a bottle of your favorite soda in the fridge for when you'd decide to sneak in the middle of the night like you used to in hopes nobody would notice you would cheat on your strict military diet. 

Although that same bottle was still in the fridge, he knew you'd never be able to physically be able to enjoy it, but it also brought him a sense of comfort seeing something you'd enjoy, just like he found himself always lingering his gaze on the photos you took during your travels together. The mountains in Switzerland, the grass in Scotland, the elk in Poland... 

How I wish I would've let me take a photo of you so I'd have something to remember. 

"Staying out of trouble, yeah?" He spoke calmly to the horse, returning outside with that bag of apples he always promised the mare. 

The mare nickered again when he removed an apple from the bag. "You'll have plenty of these from now on. I'm done with my tour," He said, watching the horse bite the apple resting in his palm before he looked at her mane, following the crest of her neck until his eyes stopped at her withers, seeing the knot he had purposely tied in her mane. A "fairy knot" as folklore called it, but he purposely tied a knot in the mare's thick mane on both sides of her neck, making it as a sort of handle for you to hold onto for when the mare carried you to Heaven. To some, it was silly, but to him, it meant everything. 

"Awáxe," He said, nodding to himself in approval after studying the word for God knows how long until he got it right. "That's your name now. You deserve a name after the good you've done for me." 

The name in Crow (Apsáalooke), your ancestral tribe, meant "Heaven." 

[kisses4bei]

Do noses collide during a kiss?

Bachira Meguru x Reader

No warning just fluff!

Idea from the one and only @venusbby !! tysm for letting me write this! go follow them<33

You and Bachira have been friends since you were little. Always know as the “Weirdo Duo” The two of you never really minded though, the only company you guys needed was each others. He tells you everything, you tell him everything, it was great. By the time the two of you are in college, nothing has changed. The two weirdos hanging out.

One day while hanging out, the two of you were sprawled out onto your bed absolutely bored out of your minds. Bachira staring up at the ceiling while you were laying on your stomach playing on your switch. The room was silent with nothing but the sound of buttons being mashed on your console and the fan spinning around. The silence was suddenly broken by Bachira,

“Hey Y/n”

You only hummed in response, too focused on your last lap in Mario Kart.

“Do noses collide during a kiss?”

You paused your game and looked up at him with a surprised pikachu look on your face. “Meguru what.” You deadpanned. You thought he was joking around but the stare he was still giving your ceiling and the genuine tone in his voice implied he was being 100% serious.

He glanced at you and let out a small giggle. He immediately sat up, crossing his legs. “ I dunno, I guess its just that i been so focused on soccer I never even had my first kiss. Isn’t that crazy!!” You chuckled a little at his rambles but it got you thinking. “Hm, I guess i never really thought about it. I mean I never had mine either because I been so focused on my studies.” You shrug as you sit up to imitate his sitting position. “Wait.. Do noses collide during a kiss?!???” You question after finally sinking in that neither of you have any experience at romantic stuff even though you’ve watched basically every single romance movie and show on Netflix with each other.

Bachira spreads a wide menacing look across his face. (Which always means he’s going to say SOMETHING out of pocket) Then looks at you straight in the eyes. His big yellow eyes staring holes into you, putting a shiver down your spine.

“Why don’t we find out?” He says finally, a big, wide smile taking over his face. Your eyes go wide processing what he just said. “Huh.” Then it clicks. “H-HUHH?!” Your face flushes red as you frantically look around to avoid eye contact. All you can think about is how your crush of god knows how many years just suggested that you guys kiss??!?!!!!

Bachira the little silly goose he is, grabs your face (gently but at the same time rough idk) and presses his lips against yours, smiling into the kiss once he feels your lips return the smooch. When pulling away he grins. “Hm, I guess they don’t collide.” You giggle.

“I don’t know I think I was too distracted to focus on our noses, I think we should try it again.” Bachira shrugs with a cheeky little grin on his face.

[casterousaudrey]

Polyjuice Confessions

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: Sebastian/reader

Theme: Jealousy, Pining, Confessions.

Note: Reader is a Slytherin, characters are now in their 7th year, I keep seeing jealous Sebastian fics and wanted to take a shot at a jealous reader fic. Hogwarts Legacy has single handedly made me write fanfics again.

"I am yours"

You never really knew when the pining had begun, maybe it was the time you saw how he looked at you in your first herbology class or the time when he took the fall when you were caught in the library. All you know is the rose-tinted glasses suddenly appeared and they never came off. 

When traveling and defeating ashwinders you fight, you find yourself excited to tell Sebastian of your adventures and long for the praises that he usually blesses you with. He was charming, you knew that a lot of other people knew that. Sebastian was approachable to ask about studies or questions about the class so it wasn't hard to take a liking to him. You have bonded with him in your 5th year, seemingly going through up and downs with him but never really leaving his side. You take care of him when memories of what happened to Solomon and Anne haunted him, he knew he could always come to you for whatever he needed. You were always an owl away.

"Merlin to Y/n? Are you even listening" Your friend Imelda seemingly tries to get your attention by waving her hand in front of your face. She noticed you have been poking at your food without really eating it while your mind seems to wonder only Merlin knows where.

"I was asking if you would be interested in trying out this new course I found somewhere near Hogwarts but your mind seems to be elsewhere. Thinking about Sallow again no doubt." She giggles at your flustered reaction. You finally shoved some food in your mouth to hide the fact that you were daydreaming about a certain someone. "Honestly I haven't the slightest idea why neither of you has told the other your feelings. He's attached to you by the hip which I am surprised he's not with you now, and you never really hear one sentence come out of his mouth without mentioning you!" Poppy, is the nicer of the two friends you have, though she was very vocal about you and Sebastian being each other's soulmate every chance she gets.

"Guys please, we're just very good friends who study, go on adventures, and visit Hogsmeade together from time to time....." You sigh as you can't help the feeling of wanting to do those things not as friends but as lovers. The kind who seem like love-sick puppies that either make people scowl in disgust or reminisce about how young love is so pure. 

"Maybe you should brew amortentia to find out if he smells you

"Or ask Ominis, they are bestfriends" 

"Asking Ominis to ask Sebastian feels awkward. It's like having a human owl as a source of communication" Each time your friends find an opportunity to tease or urge you to confess to Sebastian you can't help the fear of rejection which you ponder, might it change your entire friendship forever? You do feel that after all that you've been through your friendship isn't one that will easily snap but a rejection sure would make things awkward.

"You know Sebastian is quite a charmer, even got some 5th years making heart eyes at him so I suggest just getting it over with. I'm sure if even he doesn't feel the same way you guys would stay tight!" Poppy's urged in an attempt to make feel you better.

"Thank you Poppy that made me feel like confessing to him right now...." You sarcastically said as you shoved another tart in your mouth, groaning at the confusing feelings that has been lingering for quite some time now. You couldn't help it, each day you spend time with Sebastian makes you fall for him even more and his flirty attitude surely helps in really making butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"Speaking of Sebastian being a charmer I've been seeing that Cressida Blume flirting with him and asking for his notes even though she writes her own. Something about non-verbal casting" Just as Imelda finishes her sentence you slam your fist to the table which causes some of the Slytherin students and your friends to jump in surprise. "Merlin I can not stand that girl! Ever since the fifth year about the favor she asked about her diary, she's been acting like a total nightmare towards me. She expected me to do something for free and just because she's good at charms doesn't mean she's the best" 

You said in anger but low enough so that not everyone would know what you were talking about. "She always tries to vex me in one way or another. Ugh, I can not stand her!" If this was a cartoon Imelda and Poppy would see steam coming out of your ears right now. You resisted the urge to brag to Cressida about how you could not only cast non-verbal magic but you could cast non-verbal ancient magic but you didn't want to wander around Hogwarts just saying that you could use a rare type of ability. 

"Stay calm Y/n. No use allowing her to get on your nerves. We should probably go to potions class, by the way, don't want Sharp to get any more provoked today." Coincidentally you and your friends had the same class so you could walk to class together. You finished eating and brushed the remaining crumbs out of your robes. 

You hadn't seen Sebastian all day which you assume he took that time to read up on more for his N.E.W.T.S. In every class you have together it became a habit to sit next to him if your friends don't need you that is. So as you were chatting with Poppy about how exciting the recent classes have been she couldn't help but wonder how your face had contorted to a shocked then angry look.

She looked at where you were looking and saw Cressida Blume sitting next to Sebastian and twirling her hair about. Sebastian on the other hand was too kind to tell her that he wanted you to sit next to him, just awkwardly laughed at her jokes. 

"Merlin help me or I will curse her right here right now Poppy" You glared at Cressida's back but quickly gained back your composure as you sat next to Poppy instead, Imelda sitting behind you with her other Ravenclaw friend. "You really got this 'don't give her a reaction' down to the bone Y/n. So nice and composed" You rolled your eyes at Imelda's comment as Professor Sharp spoke up to open your books to a certain page. 

As the class continued Sebastian kept sneaking glances at you as if asking for help but you, too upset at how he could let your seat taken (although there really aren't any permanent seating arrangements), kept looking away and ignoring his signs. "I'm surprised Professor Sharp allowed us to brew Polyjuice today since the last incident of someone taking the form of Headmaster Black" you coughed as Poppy says this remembering that incident clearly and how you toyed with some of the students while using a Polyjuice to become Headmaster Black back in your fifth year. "I think it was quite funny" you spoke out giggling as Poppy raised a brow.

"You are just so smart Sebastian" Cressida suddenly cackled while touching and shaking Sebastian's arm. She also shot you a smirk and continued doing her flirty gestures toward him. "Talk about attention hoarder" Imelda whispered to you as your anger made you put too many leeches in the potion which made it spark and blow up everywhere much to your dismay. "I expected better from you Miss L/n 10 points from Slytherin" You hung your head low with annoyance ad you heard Cressida snicker in your direction as Sebastian shoots you a worried look. 

"Chin up maybe at least after class you'll get your man all to yourself"

"Thank you for the most part Imelda"

 Imelda smiles at you as she helps redo your potion so that Professor Sharp won't be complaining about your 'irresponsibility'.

In all this jealous rage you wondered if you had confessed sooner you could just storm to any girl who doesn't take the hint and drag Sebastian to the undercroft where it was only you and him, most of the time. One of the happiest moments in your life. Just as you finished fixing your potion you were ready to walk back to the Slytherin common room with Sebastian only for Cressida to still be holding his arm as if they were together and it seems she was dragging him to the library so she could 'get more help'.

"You know I should really get back to my own common room, Cressida"

"Nonsense surely you could spare a few minutes?" You heard her talk to him. As they walked away you feel like you could blow up and it took everything in you not to curse her with ancient magic so that not just anyone can cure her. Maybe it was just your anger talking so you try to calm down as you bid goodbye to Imelda who wanted to ride her broom and Poppy who wanted to visit Highwing. So now you were walking alone back to the Slytherin common room occasionally looking at the painting around Hogwarts to try and cool your mind. 

"Y/n may I have a word" 

"Ominis I thought you would be at the undercroft?"

"Well Sebastian tried to ask for help getting away from that Cressida girl so I ought to try and help but I wanted to ask if you could 'save him' since I have an essay to finish by the end of the day" You furrow your brows as you huff at Ominis' request. Normally you would accept it but you were too blinded with jealousy that you didn't want to approach Sebastian right now or perhaps you did want to steal him away from Cressida, either way, you were still mad at the current situation.

"I'm afraid I can't do that Ominis, he has to handle this on his own for now" 

"Well alright. He is capable of handling his decisions anyways"

he seemed to be confused by your decision but ultimately did not question it.

"Y/n wait up!" You turn to see Imelda running up to you with a tired look on her face.

"Imelda? I thought you were going to practice on your broom for today?"

"Yeah uhh I didn't feel like it today" You raised your brow at that since usually Imelda never gets tired when it comes to practicing on her broom. "Ok... did you want to come back to the common room with me?"

"Uhh yes yes sure! Hello Ominis, you look rather dapper as always" it was Ominis' turn to raise a brow at that. Since when did Imelda start giving compliments to others?

"Imelda are you feeling alright you don't sound like yourself"

"Yes yes as I said I am just quite tired" Ominis, though has some suspicion, ultimately let it go as the three of you walked through the castle while talking about current assignments.

"Y/n what is wrong with Sebastian he sounded rather troubled with Cressida following him around" You grunted and the sudden anger you felt before came back that even Ominis could feel the tension thicken.

"Honestly who does she even think she is? She's hogging my time with Sebastian. I know you're also just going to tell me to just confess to him to get it done with but how can I when someone is always at his side?" Ominis didn't mean to put you in a bad mood, he knew about your feelings for Sebastian but he didn't know you would react with jealousy once someone tries to take your time with him. The time he knew was precious to both you and Sebastian.

"Merlin she makes my blood boil, Ominis. Does she think she can just steal Sebastian away like that? I was the one who has been through everything with him" As you continued to ramble and walk ahead of the two Imelda's cheeks suddenly became redder and redder. As the seeming effects of the Polyjuice wears off and all that was left was Sebastian. He transfigures his outfit to the usual male uniform and walked nervously behind you waiting for you to notice.

"He's my partner in every class Omini, so what doesn't that girl get? He's mine well I hope he'll be ... someday... but that's not the point ugh I have half the mind to Levioso her and leave her hanging there until a Professor finds her. You better stop me when I come to that point Imelda" you waited a few seconds for Imelda to acknowledge your reply only to hear silence from both Ominis and Imelda. 

"Nothing like a good practice with a broom to clear my head" Imelda appears in a corridor in front of you as she skips towards where you were. Wasn't she just behind you and following you?

"Wait, Imelda? I thought you were too tired to go practice?"

"Pfft too tired? When have you ever heard me say that"

"Wait if you're here then who-"

You turn to your back only to be met with a blushing Sebastian staring directly at you and nervously fiddling with his wand.

"I was going to show you how well my Polyjuice potion worked...." With the sudden realization of the fact that you have been rambling about Sebastian this entire while he was there your face also turned red as Ominis snickers beside him.

"Well, Im- I am umm I can explain?" You looked down as your jealousy turns into embarrassment while Imelda still doesn't know what was going on.

"Imelda I think we should go on ahead. It seems these two have a lot to talk about" Imelda only grinned at that and acknowledged Ominis as they went ahead to go back to the Slytherin common room.

It was only you and Sebastian left in that empty corridor, conveniently no one has walked by in a while. A minute passed of just fumbling with your words as you try to explain to Sebastian about your rambling and looking down at your shoes to avoid his gaze.

"See I didn't mean all that I wouldn't hurt a defenseless student... Well, I would play pranks but it's not the same as the one I said-"

"I am yours" you stopped rambling and hesitantly looked up at him with a still-red face that only seems to match his, but Sebastian he had a cheeky grin plastered on his lips. Lips that you have always wanted to kiss.

"Honestly hearing you be all that possessive about me is cute because I know I would've reacted the same" he snickers as he steps closer to you to place a kiss on your forehead which made you even more red if it was possible. "I didn't know why it took me this long to do that but I have been irretrievably in love with you Y/n L/n from the moment I first went to Hogsmeade with you. I think I was just scared of losing another loved one in my life that I hid my feelings away" 

He places a hand on your cheek, which you instinctively leaned into as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. "No other woman would have my heart at the mercy of their hands and fills my head with thoughts of love more than you"  

You stared at his eyes, the one that you have seen every emotion appear on and darted to his lips, the same one that you have daydreamed of kissing for forever. With these in your mind, you finally made your move. You cupped his cheek and closed the gap between your lips, ignoring the shocked expression on his face. Sebastian eventually melted into the kiss as he held your hand that was on his cheek and rested his other on your waist slightly pulling you closer 

 His lips were soft just like how you imagined and at this moment you felt that he was yours, wholely and undeniably yours. He smiled into the kiss as he realized you were also his and always have been. As you pulled away to gasp for air you could only stare at his eyes and a smile plastered on both your faces as a weight disappeared on both your shoulders. He laughed as he kissed your hand that was on his cheek and intertwined his own with it.

"God I waited so long to do that but I never expected the circumstances to be like this. Then again  I didn't expect you to be so possessive about me"

"Don't even start Sebastian you weren't meant to hear all that" You playfully hit his arm as the both of you continue to walk through the castle hand in hand just purely happy.

"What? It was cute, and for the record, I did signal for your help"

"Well you could have handled that yourself and told her straight up you didn't want to talk to her"

"And miss the opportunity to see your scowling face and the death grip you had on your wand? Never" Sebastian earned a hip bump for that as you kiss his cheek again in an attempt to make him flustered for a change.

"Well it doesn't matter now because I have a reason to sit beside you every time"

"And what might that be? That you're so unbelievably in love with me?"

"That you're in love with me and that's it"

"Me? Looks whos talking" You rolled your eyes at Sebastian and leaned closer to his arm, occasionally swinging your intertwined hands as you walk. It started as a most frustrating day but ended in the best way possible. A relationship built on understanding, friendship, and support. Everyone would only say that it was a matter of time as you arrived in your common room, Imelda silently cheering and Ominis happy for both of his best friends.

Bonus:

The next day in potions class, you and Sebastian were talking to each other while making your potions when you see Cressida shoot a daggered look at you. You only smirked as you pulled Sebastian down to kiss him on the cheek while Professor Sharp was looking away. He was confused but still smiled, appreciating every affection you give him.

You giggled as you see Cressida look even madder than you were yesterday.

[cloudlessly-light]

The darkest parts of me (3/5)

Title: The darkest parts of me (3/5) Summary: They find each other in a dark world where they do twisted things. The only way things could have become more dangerous, is if they were together. Funny how life turns out.

Unsub!Hotchniss AU.   Word count: 2,2k Rating: Explicit Warnings (for most or all chapters): smut, descriptions of violence, descriptions of murder, gore (nothing too explicit), mentions of weapons

They’ve been traveling through the country together for close to a year now, Aarons system working. It had almost become too easy, him choosing their victim and then a night spent somewhere in between twisted torture and twisted pleasure. Emily had never felt so free, being with him and she knew that he felt the same, telling her how happy he was that they had found each other frequently.

They don’t kill too often, sometimes taking weeks or even months in between each kill, but Aaron notices the restlessness in her easily, she sees the need for it on him. It’s an addiction, they both know it, neither of them wanting to stop even when they probably should. But as he feels the rush of euphoria when a man stops breathing from his hand, or Emily’s need for power and control is soothed as she finishes someone off, neither of them wants to stop.

“Would you ever do it again?” Emily asks out of nowhere one night. They’re eating dinner, having just arrived in Texas and when Aaron looks up at her she clarifies. “Having a kid? A family?”

“No.” He answers bluntly, because there wasn’t any point in lying to her. “Having children while living this life, I don’t know if that would work.”

“Do you think you could give it up?” She takes a bite of her chicken and watches as he thinks about her question.

“Honestly, I don’t think the urge will ever go away. If I stop, I don’t think I’d be completely content, not like right now.” He takes a sip of the overpriced wine that she loves and then takes her hand. “What about you?”

“I never thought I would, considering how life was with Ian, he would have been a horrible dad. But I think I might want a child, someday.” She feels her cheek flush at the admission, she had never told anybody that before.

“So you could give up killing?” His tone of surprise is obvious and he watches as she smiles softly.

“I don’t know. I guess I always thought that I would some day, it’s impossible to live like this forever without getting caught.” She squeezes his hand and smiles softly before continuing to eat her dinner.

Aaron nods, but stays silent because he knew she was right. At some point they’d have to stop. And if there was anyone he could consider giving it up for, it was her.

*

“I think we have a serial killer travelling the country.” David Rossi says, throwing files onto Jason Gideon’s desk. “A team actually.”

He waits patiently as Jason looks through a few of the files in silence and when he looks back up at him he knows that his friend has caught the same pattern that he has.

“How far does these murders go?” He asks from behind his desk, still holding one of the files in his hand.

“If I’m right about this, they’ve been at it for months.” Dave urges the other man to follow him and he leads him to his office. “But I think before they were a team, one of them killed alone.” The two boxes of files on his desk made Jason pause.

“When did you get all of these?”

“I asked departments all over the country to send what might fit into the unsubs behavior to us last week after getting a call for a consultation. Something about the behavior told me there was more than a single case.

For a few seconds it’s silent, both of them looking at the number of files of unsolved murders that might be related.

“Let’s get to work.” Jason says then, a heavy sigh leaving him as he does.

*

They had gotten into a sick form of roleplay. Aaron finding their victim and Emily using her charm on him, luring the man back to whatever house they rented for their trip. There he would wait for them, sometimes with a knife in hand, sometimes a gun, tonight he had opted for nothing, needing to feel the life drain out of this man by his own hand. He had raped women, five of them so far, tied them up with piano wire and somehow police had never caught him, but Aaron had tracked him down.

He hears the key turn in the lock, followed by Emily laughing, something sickly sweet and fake, a laugh she’d never use with him. The sound makes him itch, the restlessness that had been growing for hours almost becoming unbearable the closer he was to get to feel his fists breaking skin and bones.

“You’ve got a nice place.” Hamilton says, his voice sending a shiver of disgust through her as his hand grips her hip tight as they enter the dark house.

“Thank you.” She turns and walks backwards, a flirty smile on her face that all but disappears when the lights are turned on and she walks into Aaron’s strong chest. “Meet my boyfriend.” She grins as Aaron’s familiar warmth presses against her back.

Hamilton barely has time to react to the third person in the room before a fist connects to his cheekbone and he falls to the ground. Emily locks the door while Aaron continues to punch the man that’s made her sick to her stomach all night. But now it’s different, satisfaction settling inside of her as she watches the man she loves beat a man that doesn’t deserve to live to death.

“He has a wife.” She tells him while Aaron is taking a break, the other man laying unmoving on the floor, but he’s still breathing.

“It doesn’t matter, we’ll be gone tomorrow morning, I booked us a flight to Florida.” He grabs her jaw and kisses her as she hums into it. “I know you said you wanted a little vacation.”

“You’re perfect.” She smiles into another kiss, this one interrupted by low groaning at their feet and she looks down at Hamilton. “He tried to feel me up all night.” She grabs the gun from the table and shoots his hand without a moment’s hesitation as Aaron laughs beside her.

“Easy sweetheart, don’t kill him too quickly now, I want us to take our time tonight.” He takes the gun from her and then spits on the other man. “However, I do not like knowing he dared to put his hands on you.” With that thought he stepped on his other hand, hard enough for bones to crack and break and he screamed out.

“That’s it baby, make him suffer.” Emily sighed contently and went to grab one of the knives from the kitchen. It was Aaron’s turn to kill, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun first, and ever since the first time using the knife, she had preferred it over her gun. Aaron had been right, if she thought she felt powerful with a gun, it was nothing compared to the knife. The rush of steel slicing through skin makes her laugh, something close to madness as Aaron grabs at her from behind, his hands driving her into a frenzy as he tells her to cut him again.

They fucked right next to him once they knew he would be too weak to get away. There was something about being watched getting them both off.

“He thought he could have you, but you’re mine.” Aaron groaned as Emily straddled him on the couch only a few feet from where Hamilton was laying, eyes half open as every ounce of energy was focused on trying to draw enough breath into his lungs.

“Show him.” She gasped and his hand wrapped around her throat. Sometimes she thought he imagined what it would feel like to kill her this way and the rush that went through her made her whimper. She wasn’t afraid of his darkness, because she had wondered the same, had fantasized about his blood on her hands. That’s what made it fun, the fear of knowing how easily they could kill each other a thrill unlike most.

By the time Hamilton was dead they were blissfully exhausted. It had been a while since they had created this kind of mess and as Aaron got rid of the body, Emily was cleaning up the blood from the floor. It had become a way for her to come down from her high, the mix of blood and bleach comforting and by the time Aaron joined her she was almost done.

“Everything gone?” She asks and he nods. He smells acrid from the lye, as well as blood and she scrunches her nose. “You stink, let me finish this and then we can shower?”

“Oh do I?” He wraps his arms around her with a smirk. “You don’t like the smell of a work well done?”

“I like the smell of you.” She kisses him quickly and then moves from his embrace and grabs the rag she had used. “I still don’t like the cleanup.”

“That’s because you’ve been spoilt, baby.” His tone is teasing and she looks up at him with a huff. “Would you rather have us be caught?” He chuckles when she rolls her eyes.

“Obviously not. All I’m saying is that the lye smells horrible.”

“But it works.” He reminds her as he removes his jeans that he had put on while getting rid of the body and goes to throw them away with the rest of their clothes to be burned and thrown away far away from their rented house tomorrow.

When he comes back, Emily is just about done and he watches her in silence while she cleans the last of the blood up, then they both go through the house to make sure not to leave any evidence, wiping doorknobs and watching out for any missed spots of blood.

By the time they’re in bed it’s late and they’re tired and sated in the way they only were after a night spent like tonight.

“So, Florida huh?” She asks, her words tickling his neck as she lays halfway on top of him.

“Yeah, I thought we needed a break.” He kissed the top of her head.

“You just want to get me into a bikini.” She teases with a grin and looks up at him.

“Well that too. But you can’t blame me for that.” When he slaps her ass with a grin she chuckles.

“I guess you can’t.”

*

It’s been weeks and they’re still no closer to catching the unsubs who’s been roaming the country. They were careful about not leaving any evidence, but the pattern was all too clear. And then they finally got a break, a young prostitute had come forward while being questioned about a disappearance of a man with a less than stellar record. Dave immediately knew that it was them, the victim fitting into their unsubs pattern flawlessly.

“It seemed like a couple.” The detective on the other line tells him as he holds the phone between his ear and shoulder while waving Jason into his office.

“Did you get a description?” He asks and puts the detective on speaker as Jason closes the door and sits down across from him.

“They’re white, both of them dark hair and dark eyes. Maybe in their mid-thirties. The man was tall, seemingly strong because he knocked out the victim with one punch. The woman carried a gun, had threatened our witness with it and told her to leave.”

“How did you find your witness?” Jason cuts in, this was the biggest lead they’d had since starting their investigation.

“She’s a prostitute, she knew the victim they had a… history.”

“So he was her pimp? Or a client?”

“Seems like it. She didn’t want to talk, had to drag it out of her. “

“That’s usually the case.” Dave agrees as he watches the wheels turning in Jason’s head as he figures out the puzzle pieces.

“How long ago was the murder?” Jason pulls out a notebook and takes the pen Dave is already holding out for him.

“About five months ago. We considered this a cold case until she was brought in on other charges, that’s when one of my men found out her connection to the murdered victim.”

“Okay, thank you. If you get any other information, please call us. And can you send over the sketch of the unsubs?”

“Of course.”

After the call ended, it was silent in their office for a long time. It wasn’t until Jason sighed heavily as he leant back in his chair that Dave looked up from his own notebook where he kept information about the unsubs.

“Who knows how many they’ve killed, but the victims are clearly a type. Are we dealing with vigilantes here?” He asks as Jason stands up.

“I think so. Funny thing is, a team, a team with a woman no less, shouldn’t be this violent and they most certainly shouldn’t be able to stay together without killing each other.”

They looked at each other, wondering how long it would take for this case to completely unravel.

[rosypenguins]

🖤Drake Headcanons💛

(Because they have a chokehold on my brain and I hope they blow up and explode.)

💛Golden Retriever + Black Cat Dynamic

🖤Drew has fallen asleep on Jake numerous times. (Liam has the photos to prove it.)

💛Jake and Drew are almost always beside each other in photos.

🖤Drew lets Jake copy of his homework. (Jake is the only person allowed to do this.

💛Jake and Drew play footsies during class. (Jake usually starts the game, and Drew is usually the one to finish it.)

🖤Drew has accepted that everything he owns also belongs to Jake. Jake will steal his pencils, his erasers, his papers, etc.

💛Jake doodles on Drew’s hand sometimes during class, and will also write random messages on Drew’s papers.

🖤Drew and Jake always work together on assignments if they’re allowed to.

💛Jake and Drew have pulled several all-nighters together.

🖤Whenever they play Genshin together, Drew carries. (And will spend hours helping Jake collect artifacts and ascension materials.)

💛Jake has possibly the worst team combos on Genshin, and Drew has tried to help him build better characters, but Jake refuses to change his team to due to being overly attached to them.

🖤Drew tends to glance over at Jake a lot, just to admire him. (Yet will never admit he finds Jake attractive.)

💛Jake flirts with Drew ironically. Drew gets flustered almost every single time.

🖤Drew’s braincells rapidly begin to vanish if he’s left alone with Jake for longer than 5 minutes.

💛Jake will steal Drew’s food and drinks a lot. (Drew tries to avoid thinking about the indirect kiss.)

🖤The two share have shared clothes numerous times.

💛Jake and Drew spent Halloween one year watching horror movies while Liam and Henry went trick-or-treating. Neither of them ended up sleeping that night.

🖤Drew feels more at home with Jake than he does in his actual house.

💛Jake has brought Drew to several family gatherings.

🖤Drew’s usually the one who reminds Jake of the little things he wanted to do that day. (Like Jake’ll off-handedly say ‘Don’t let me forget thing.’ And Drew will later on remind him of thing.)

💛Jake is painfully dense and doesn’t realize Drew may love him as more than just a friend.

🖤Drew has taken an ‘Am I Gay’ quiz because of Jake. (He took it until it told him he wasn’t gay. And to get that result he had to lie to himself a lot.)

💛Jake has told Drew several times that if he was stressed or needed someone to talk to, he’d always be there. Drew still has not taken his offer.

🖤Drew would quite literally take a bullet for Jake but will never admit it.

💛Jake opened up to Drew about what happened to him back in middle school. Drew never him asked why he was bullied, and instead promised him that he wouldn’t let it happen again.

🖤Since then, Drew became extremely protective of Jake, and almost all of his action stem from this desire to keep him safe from being used or hurt again.

💛Jake’s always been terrified of Drew judging him or abandoning him. Sometimes when they talk, Jake feels as if he’s treading on glass, terrified of missing a step and having Drew hate him. (He often observes Drew’s reactions to Liam and Henry’s behavior to determine what Drew’s comfortable with.)

🖤Meanwhile, Drew’s always felt he had to ‘prove’ himself worthy of Jake’s friendship. (I.e buying him things, being super protective, the arm thing, etc.)

💛Since the start of high-school, Drew always viewed Jake as his friend. He never liked the idea of sharing him with someone else. (Mostly because of his control issues.)

🖤Despite never saying it, Drew is hopelessly in love with Jake, and desperately wants to hold him close. (And probably kiss him.)

💛And despite everything, Jake does not reciprocate Drew’s feelings, and never will.