#i think after sizzle it up he changes his appearance a lot

[junotter]

Post ipre and wars and sizzle it up etc., Taako - aka Taako at the start of here there be gerblins

[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 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

[blackjackkent]

As we proceed up into High Hall, there's a sharp sizzling sound and whole pack of githyanki appear in our path.

"Is'tark! Chraith!"

Uh oh.

Hector doesn't know a lot of githyanki words, but he has hung around enough with Lae'zel that he knows both of these. Coward. Enemy.

Immediately he rocks his weight forward, brings his fists up, ready to defend himself. The rage in Voss's eyes is obvious, and Hector can guess the reason for it.

"You held the future of a people in your hands!" the kith'rak bellows. "How dare you take our prince from us! How dare you parade around this abomination?!" He lashes out a hand in the direction of the mind flayer that stands at Hector's shoulder, listening placidly.

Hector opens his mouth to speak - but Lae'zel gets there first, and the sharpness with which she speaks to Voss would have appalled and astonished her younger self. "Silence your blasphemous tongue, Voss!" she cries.

Voss's head snaps back and he looks at her with pure fury. Hector thinks perhaps he would strike her, except that the illithid - Orpheus - interrupts.

"Voss!" he cries. His voice is that strange, resonant tone common to all mind flayers, but still recognizably his, and with a greater coloration of emotion than Hector ever heard even in the Emperor. "Gith'ka tavki krash'ht!"

Voss goes still, wild-eyed. "What?!"

"Stand down!" Orpheus insists. "The true heir has spoken!"

"No..." Voss whispers. "It can't be."

Hector feels a flash of sympathy for the man. To see the leader he has fought to rescue in the form of the enemy he hates above all other things - what must that be like? It is as if Hector himself had fought to release Aylin from the Shadowfell and found her wearing Sharran robes - except a thousand times worse, for this is no costume but a true change, never to be undone.

"And yet it is," he says softly. He has calmed a little from the panic of the confrontation with the brain and the Emperor, recovered a little of his usual gravitas - and it is sorely needed here, for he can tell Voss is on a hairtrigger, ready to lash out. "Orpheus took this form so we could defeat the Netherbrain."

"Orpheus..." Voss whispers, barely even seeming to register Hector's words. He is appalled at what he sees - and terrified, too. "My prince. What's become of you?"

"The Grand Design must be ended," Lae'zel points out fiercely. "A sacrifice had to be made!"

"The duty fell to me," Orpheus explains gravely. "I am not long for this world, or any other."

Later, Hector will remember this self-possession with tremendous admiration and file it away as worthy of emulation. Surely Orpheus is as frightened as he is - more so, to have been turned into an abomination of nightmares - and yet he is calm. He seems almost at peace. He does not even cast a resentful look in Hector's direction, and surely he would have a right to.

"What of Vlaakith?" Voss asks unsteadily. "What of our liberty?" And in the question Hector sees a new reason for the other man's fear. Their dream of rebellion seems in danger of shattering to ashes along with this city.

But Orpheus shakes his head. "You underestimate your own people," he says. "Their imaginations have kept the name Orpheus alive for millennia. Bring them my message. Tell them my fate. Some will doubt, some will mock. But some will listen, and the spark will be lit."

Hector nods slowly. His eyes flick to Lae'zel. Yes - he can well believe what Orpheus says. After all, Lae'zel herself was once devoted to Vlaakith, but the spark was lit in her, the seeds of change. It is not Orpheus they need, but his name - and the power of his sacrifice here on their behalf.

I think we can safely assume Vlaakith would not have done so much.

"Githyanki freedom means nothing if the Grand Design comes to pass," he says soberly, watching the kith'rak's eyes intently. "We need your help, Voss."

"Find your nerve, my friend," Orpheus agrees. "Today we strike at the brain!" He gestures towards Hector. "This champion holds the key to the Grand Design's end. Answer to him as you would to me."

Voss tips his head sideways and looks Hector up and down thoughtfully. Hector looks back steadily as the other man scrutinizes him. In truth - he is not sure exactly what key Orpheus means. The Netherstones, perhaps, but those are in the keeping of Orpheus himself.

But Hector and his friends have come so far in pursuit of victory here, and perhaps that is strength in itself. They have overcome fear, and held to kindness, and gathered allies, and that is its own sort of power.

Whatever Voss sees in him, he must approve of it, because he nods. "Your Majesty," he says in acknowledgment to Orpheus.

"I have spoken," intones the gith mind flayer.

"As you wish," Voss agrees. His eyes return to Hector's, and then he offers a salute. "I stand at the ready."

"Your friendship," Orpheus says softly. "Your constancy - when I fell to despair, they elated me. Thank you, my friend. Sha va zai."

A muscle works in Voss's cheek. "Sha va zai," he echoes, bowing his head.

Silence stretches, broken only by the rumble of distant explosions. Then Orpheus turns and proceeds up the stairs ahead of them. "Now - to the Netherbrain. Let it be the first victim in the War for the Skies!"

[irlguppy]

Bugsnax Guide

After spending many many hours struggling to complete the game I figured it would be cool to post a guide to make it a bit easier for other Snaxburg residents! These are specifically for Steam achievements cus I don't know if the achievements are the same on console / other platforms.

Bugsnax Achievements(30/30)

All unmissable/story achievements will be green!

Everybody Gets One

Catching your very first Bugsnak earns you this achievement.

Wonderfalls

Once you help Filbo there is a pair of waterfalsl nearby, walk into the left one to get this achievement.

Gone Home

Follow Filbo back to town for this one!

Double Trapper

Catching 2+ Bugsnak in the Snak Trap at once is really easy, try using sauce to lure two of the same Snaks into your trap.

Perf Dirt

After going back to Snaxburg with Beffica, return to her cave in Garden Grove and take the diary from her cave.

Quartermaster

Catch 25 unique Bugsnax, you'll get this as you complete the game since you're required to get a lot of them to complete Bugsnax.

Launch Party

Stunning a flying Bugsnak with another Bugsnak is a bit of an annoying achievement to get (the launch pad is required to do this achievement). Lure a Bugsnak onto your launch pad and throw it at a flying Bugsnak!

Combo Meal

This one can be earned really easily, go back to Garden Grove to catch a Bunger, Fryder, and Sodie. After you've gotten them go back to Snaxburg and feed them all to transform a Grumpus into a combo meal.

Midnight Snak

This achievement is evil and makes me sad :(. You have to feed Gramble a Bugsnak while he sleepwalks around Snaxburg.

That Reminds Me of A Puzzle

You can either solve the puzzle in Boiling Bay or Sizzling Sands (Don't worry I'll explain how to do both).

Boiling Bay

Go into the cave with Noodlers and Flaming Cheepoofs and you'll see statues of Cocomites. Each statue is numbered different with the numbers 1-4 just press them in the order of far right , middle left , middle right , and far left to open the path to Sizzling Sands.

Sizzling Sands

If you go here first you'll see Incherrito statues to your left, follow them in the order of close left , far right , close right , far left to open up Boiling Bay.

Say Cheese!

Once you unlock Cheese Sauce you can hit a Grumpus with it and then scan them to unlock this easy cheesy achievement!

I'm Stuffed

Using Bugsnax you've collected you can fully transofrm a Grumpus. Change their hair, teeth, body , nose , hands , etc etc.

In The Arms of the Gramble

After bringing Gramble to Snaxburg you can donate Bugsnax to his ranch, after you donate the max amount you'll get this achievement. There's 3 levels of donations, the first is 6 , 2nd is 12 , and 3rd is 18 total.

Halfway There

This one can also be done just by doing the regular playthrough as long as you capture 50 Bugsnax.

Clothesline

After you unlock the Trip Shot, attach it to the Buggy Ball and use it to to trip a Bugsnak for this achievement.

Talkin' Bout Bugsnax

Interview EVERY Grumpus, to make this easier just do it as they get back to Snaxburg. For Eggabell do it when you meet her in Frosted Peak. I don't think this achievement is missable so correct me if wrong!

Know Thy Neighbor

Bringing each Grumpus back to Snaxburg gets you this achievement as it's story locked

Dapper Capper

While you play the game Bugsnax will appear wearing hats, capture them to unlock hints for other hats (the hints will appear on the side of Gramble's Barn). Just collect every hat wearing Bugsnak to get 10 hats!

Candid Cryptid

The Snaxquatch will appear in different areas and disappears kinda fast once you see it. An easier time to scan it is near the end of the game when you hear Filbo calling for help, before you jump down pull out your scanner.

Documentarian

Watching all 5 of Lizbert's diaries unlocks this achievement (pretty easy if you're already doing the sidequests).

In Lizbert / Eggabell's hut on the shelf.

In Lizbert / Eggabell's hut inside the cabinet (complete Beffica's sidequests for the key).

In Lizbert / Eggabell's hut in the chest (complete Chandlo's quests for the key).

In Sugarpine Woods there's a reel hidden inside a bag, follow the edge to find it (though it isn't hard to see the bag in the distance).

At Shedla's hut there's a chest, do her quests to get the chest and complete Floofty's sidequests to get the key .

Grab Bag

Get all of the Snakpods in one area, just do Garden Grove as it's the easiest one to do. They make sounds when you get close so it isn't hard to find as long as you know the general area.

Befficas cave.

Jump onto the tree tops to see Beffica's window, there is a Snakpod hiding in the branches.

Find the Fryder cave, there is a Snakpod on the inside pillar.

Go to where you met Wambus, there is a Snakpod at the entrance of the area.

The last Snakpod is behind the pen.

Sundae Best

Similar to Combo Meal you need to transform a Grumpus with Scoopy, Banopper, and Cheery. (Break the Scoopy Banoopy to get all the parts separately).

Bossy Bugs

Beat all of the Legendary Bugsnax, you need to defeat the four bosses in the base game. Get the quests through members of Snaxburg as they're all sidequests.

Mama Mewon, Megamaki, Mothza Supreme, Daddy Cakelegs

Feeding Frenzy

Transform each Grumpus body ENTIRELY. (Feed gramble when hes asleep, put stuff in Shedla's box).

Sidetracked

If you complete all 38 missions you'll get the achievement. Talk to each Wumpus everyday, check your mail, and do all their quests even if its a frustrating one!

Got to Catch Them All

Very time consuming task but can be done! Collect all 100 Bugsnax in the base game, if you beat every sidequest you can find each Bugsnak just collect as you go.

Deep Impact

There's the Broken Tooth DLC. beat the DLCs story and return to Snaxburg for the achievement to go off.

Live Laugh Hut

Decorate your hut to the fullest, do this achievement later after completing the request missions from your mailbox to upgrade your hut and get items from Snaxburg members.

Survivor

Make sure all of the Grumpuses survive at the end of the game, if you beat all of the sidequests before going to end game content then everyone is invincible and will survive. If they aren't invincible when you do the end game just make sure none of the residents get touched by a Snakbug. (You can reload your save just before the end game you can complete all the stuff you missed).

Vacation's End

Earn this by completing the main story of Bugsnax!

This was definitely a lot shorter than Spyro was LOL. Congrats on beating Bugsnax and thank you for reading my guide! Skill point guide for Spyro will also be posted today!

[alaskarcenciel]

...And freeze !

words : 1867

wattpad : @alaskarcenciel

ep 10: I'm only here for Wand

5th of July, 2023, a few hours later:

A voice sizzled on the Quinjet.

May: Everyone ties up, we're landing, stay safe.

The Quinjet vertically got down, and they could get out of it safely.

Fury was there to welcome back Sam to the compound. He opened his arms largely like he wanted to give her a hug, a smile on his face like rarely he had. He was a tall black man, with almost no hair on his head, and he always was wearing sunglasses, even in the dark. Probably to hide his left eye, which one was injured, no one really knows how. Some say he fought a Skrull, others say it was a Kree, there were multiple theories, but he never answered to anyone asking him the question.

Sam stayed impassive, she didn't really want to be here anyway, she only wanted her old life back, without super-heroes coming in her apartment by the window to ask her why she wasn't already back in the super-heroes team. This kind of event, that seemed pretty normal to Romanoff, was the type of thing Sam didn't want in her life anymore. Or maybe it was just because she was feeling like no one really liked her in this team?

Fury: Welcome back, Sam! I'm glad you're back here! It's been a long time! Happy you finally changed your mind to not come back.

Sam: Let's just be clear: I'm here only for Wanda. Whatever, I'm not even staying, once everything comes in a normal state, I'll leave.

Fury's smile evaporated. His arms get back down along his body.

Fury: Well, at least you're here to help to handle this situation. Come with me, we need to talk about the situation, the plan, and the team.

Sam followed him in the strategy room with Daisy, and saw Natasha. The blond girl jumped back, and everyone in the room was able to see the anger on her face. If a gaze could kill, the Russian spy would already be dead.

Sam: What the hell is- Please don't tell me she's coming.

Natasha: Oh but I am, and you'll have to deal with it sweetheart, 'cause we'll have to work together.

Steve: Come on, we will have to cooperate, so don't be rude and don't fight together, just act like you actually liked each other, remember how it was when you two were nice to each other? That's what I want. Hey Daisy, how are you? I didn't know you'd be on this mission too.

Daisy: Hey Rogers, I'm fine and you? I'm not on this mission, I'm just doing my report, I left after that, I need a shower anyway.

She went to the other side of the room, letting Steve, Natasha, Sam and Fury around the table. Maria Hill joined them, and started to give information about the mission.

Hill: So. Wanda. She left on the 15th of June.

Steve: I don't think that's where you should start.

Hill: Where do you think I should start? Go ahead.

Steve: Before. Everything that happened, all this situation we are facing right now started way before she left. It started when Sam left in fact.

Sam: Oh wonderful, I'm gonna be THE one responsible now.

Steve: That's not what I said, but the fact is that Wanda started to be not good when you left. Then Barton left in retirement again. Then Natasha went on a mission undercover. She couldn't talk to Wanda because her coms were watched by the enemy. Wanda lost the 3 people she was the closest to since her brother died. Come on guys, it's obvious that's the reason she had a mental breakdown.

Hill: You're not wrong.

Sam: Yeah well, that's what I said, that's on me.

Steve: Not only. It's on the whole team, we are supposed to support and help each other, we failed Wanda. She felt lonely, she left, we didn't know where she was at first...

Hill: But on the 22th June, we found out there was an anomaly in a little town named Westview.

She opened files on her tablet, and a map of Westview and a few other documents appeared on the board in front of them.

Hill: A lot of people didn't show up for their job for a few days, and they all were living in Westview. So a team went on the field to see what's going on, but they weren't able to come IN.

Sam looked at her, confused.

Sam: What? Why?

Steve: There's a, how did they call it again?

Hill: The hex, because of the shape of hexagonal.

Sam: What is that?

Hill: It's... kind of a box, I don't really know how to describe it, but nobody can come in or out of this city.

Sam, slowly: I don't really see how I can help.

She wasn't aggressive, angry or bored, she was just surprised and confused, mostly confused.

Hill: It's coming, we figured out that the hex only could have been created by the powerful power of witchcraft. We looked for video surveillance around Westview, and guess who we found, driving in the direction of Westview?

Sam: Wanda I guess?

Hill: Bingo.

Sam: So...? Why am I here?

Steve: Because you were her best friend, nobody was closer to her than you, even Natasha.

Hill: We need you to help us to calm her down and put the thing back to normal.

Sam: Ok-ay, how are we doing this?

Hill: You, Rogers and Romanoff are going to Westview.

Sam: Okay, but you said nobody can come in or out of the Hex.

Hill: Yeah, but Wanda made the Hex, so maybe one of you can come in or find a way to. Do whatever you want except kill people you could have let live, but find a way to turn off this Hex and put the situation together.

Sam: Why Romanoff and Steve? I mean, you need me because I was closer to her, I get it, but why them especially?

Hill: Romanoff and Clint were the 2 closest to her behind you, Clint is retired so to put all in our favor we need you and her, plus she's smart and a spy, always useful. Steve is calm, he avoids fighting if possible, we need someone who is not running to the fight, Wanda is stronger and more powerful to anyone, we don't want to have to fight her.

Sam winced but nodded, it made sense, even if she hated to have to work with the Russian spy. Hill looked at her, then to Steve and Natasha.

Hill: Any other question? No? You're leaving tomorrow at 7AM, don't be late, we don't have time for that, you should rest tonight.

Everybody left the room. Sam first. Natasha came after her, running in the corridor to be at her level.

Natasha: Sam!

She caught her arm to make her look at her. Sam got free from her, but didn't look at her though, she continued to walk away.

Sam, cold as never: I don't wanna talk to you, Romanoff.

Natasha: You don't have to talk, you can just listen, I owe you some apologies I think, can we-

Sam turned to face her, and answered, colder than ever.

Sam: I don't think you get it, that I don't want to talk to you is one thing, but I don't want to hear anything from you, I don't want to know anything about you, I don't want you in my life anymore, and I don't give a fuck about what you think anymore, am I clear?

Natasha's shoulders sagged, she looked at the floor sadly.

Sam walked away, but she hadn't done 3 feet before she heard a voice behind her.

Natasha: You will have to figure out how to support me, because we are going to work together, no matter if we want it or not.

Sam didn't do anything that made appear she heard.

Later.

Sam was in her bedroom, looking through the window.

Daisy passed her face across the door barely opened, calm and friendly as usual, she knocked and came in.

Daisy: Hey.

Sam looked at her. She was wearing her usual black jacket, and jeans. She cut her brown hair since Sam left the S.H.I.E.L.D., it now was long 'til her chin, she was pretty like that.

Sam: Hey.

Daisy: What happened with Natasha? I thought you two were friends?

She talked with a friendly tone, she wasn't aggressive, just wondering.

Sam: Yeah, well, that's what I used to believe too. Until she told me I didn't deserve to be in their team, that I was a stupid child who didn't have the shoulders, the guts or whatever it needed to be super-heroes, and she should have listened to Tony and agreed with him at first when he said I didn't belong here. I thought she was my friend, but apparently it seems that she can't even bear me being around her. 5 minutes before, she was telling me she was here for me gngngn, seems pretty hypocritical, no?

Daisy: That's weird. What happened in between for her to change her speech like this??

Sam: Hmmm I think I told her and Wand' I didn't want to stay here. Wanda said she wanted me to stay, I told her that we don't always have what we want, which, now that I think about it, wasn't nice at all. Then Natasha said something like 'no joke Sherlock', she was pissed and we argued, I wasn't nice, that's true, but she was absolutely horrible. Plus she came to my apartment by my window while a friend of mine was there, threatening her, throwing my whole relation to this person in jeopardy.

So, no, I'm not her friend, because she's not mine, apparently she never was, contrary to what I used to believe, and it's not going to be better now I'm back.

Sam wasn't aggressive either, she seemed a bit off, like tired of this situation. She was still mad against the red haired, but what Daisy saw was mostly tiredness.

Daisy: Is that why you left?

Sam: Nah, I left before that.

Daisy: What? I thought you were talking here?

Sam: Mhm, it was here.

Daisy: I- I don't get it.

Sam: It's complicated, I left a first time, then came back because I figured out that I don't have any green card, passport or any way to come back to France legally, so I came back so they could drive me to France, and it's at this moment, when I came back for them to bring me back home, that I had this fight with Romanoff and Wanda... Hm, Wanda didn't fight, she was just here, we were talking together before fighting.

Daisy: Okay, but why did you leave at first?

Sam didn't answer immediately. She played with an elastic, the kind she used for her hair.

Daisy came closer to her, and put her hand on her shoulder.

Daisy: Hey

Sam closed her eyes for a while. When she reopened it, they were filled with tears.

Sam: I left because I was useless.

Her voice broke saying this. A tear dropped off her right eye.

Daisy, softly: Heyy sweetie. I don't think you were useless. They would have sent you home otherwise, you know, with one of these watches to call you when needed.

Sam shrugged her shoulders, and wiped up the tears on both her cheeks.

Daisy took her in her arms, and hugged her really tough.

Daisy: Are you going to be okay? For the mission with Romanoff...

Sam shrugged and sniffled.

Sam: I guess I don't really have a choice. Let's see what happens.

[subbyfoxelf]

[tv review] tng "chain of command" (1992)

6x10 “chain of command, part 1”

the way they handled the transfer of command to jellico is easily one of the best jobs they’ve ever done of implementing a temporary status quo change. like, it’s not “best of both worlds, part 1” levels of believability that picard’s status on the show might be in jeopardy, if only because at this point we’re nearly halfway through the show’s penultimate season. but we get a lot of time with the enterprise’s temporary captain and see quite a bit of the crew having a bit of trouble adjusting to his presence. he also makes significant changes to the way the ship runs, and even demands “and get that fish out of the ready room” about captain picard’s iconic lionfish.

although part 2 is where a lot more of this happens, this is also kind of a turning point for the cardassians as major antagonists on the show. they were already positioned as such in their few previous appearances, but this really is the moment where they gain a ton of credibility as a big bad which will carry over to ds9, which probably not coincidentally began airing after this two-parter. s-rank

6x11 “chain of command, part 2”

i don’t want to be nitpicky, but it’s kind of weird that picard’s borg trauma is (rightly) something we keep going back to over & over, but his cardassian trauma basically never comes up again once the credits roll on this one?

the reason i don’t want to be nitpicky is that this episode is fantastic. the entire episode is designed to put patrick stewart’s performance front & center, and yeah obviously that works out fantastically in the show’s favor? and david warner is just a fantastic opponent for him here. their contest of wills just absolutely sizzles.

AND YEAH OKAY i guess i should acknowledge really quick that even though i don’t find either of these characters attractive, i did find a lot of the stuff that happened in this episode uncomfortably hot. i’m sorry i’m like this. (no i’m not.)

back on the enterprise side of things, things really break down between riker & jellico to the point that jellico relieves riker of duty and installs data as first officer. data is even jarringly required to don a red command division uniform, something he didn’t do as acting captain during the blockade of the klingon/romulan border in “redemption, part 2.”

this serves to make it extra satisfying when jellico is forced to go to riker hat in hand to ask him to go on a critical mission that basically everyone falls over themselves to say he’s uniquely qualified for.

it’s funny that this would’ve been a drastically better wrap-around season finale/premiere two-parter than “time’s arrow,” but they wanted a big cardassian episode to give them extra credibility leading into the premiere of deep space nine, which totally makes sense.

i wouldn’t want every episode to be like this, and there are some tiny nitpicks i could make if i were interested in going in that direction, but there’s a reason this is considered one of the best episodes of the series. i do think i would be more inclined to agree if this had more lasting consequences for picard’s character, but again that’s not really the episode’s fault.

i think this episode falls just outside my personal top 10 tng episodes (whereas part 1 is actually comfortably within my top 10), but i get why it’s a lot higher on a lot of other people’s lists. s-rank

[the-adventures-of-lydia-brown]

She smiles at Helene. She can relate to her longing for company.

..."At the risk of sounding obnoxiously British, I won't say no to a cup of tea, thank you!"

..."Oh, these are delicious!"

While trying very hard not to eat the pastries too eagerly for polite company, her gaze unconsciously falls to her own hands where memories of her own cooking and baking attempts are etched – the edge of the oven door, a hot baking sheet, a droplet of sizzling oil... She wonders whether all beginnings are like that. And whether it is easy to slip into this sort of routine after enough time, to become the living breath and the beating heart of a home...

Unlike Bessières, she doesn't have a lot of proficiency in keeping her emotions from her countenance. Her surprise at the mention of another child is quite apparent for a moment – surely, no matter how long a time passed out here, the Marshal would have known of such a thing when he wrote his first letter to her... Or... maybe not. She has her fair share of experience with counterintuitive things here.

..."I will start with this: The time period I would call home is the most recent one, going by the standards of the living world.

I have indeed received an education in music – I have been taking singing lessons for nearly twelve years and learned the theory to go with it. I can play the pianoforte, too, though I am no virtuoso in that regard.

Apart from that, I have that age's general high school education – the basics of natural sciences, languages, history...

Those are framed within a corpus of memories I have from outside here. But it is not stagnant - from time to time, new ones appear. I think their source is someone... like a me who is still there. We differ quite a bit already, though. Our lives and tasks definitely do.

I do and do not envy her. She has... legacies to uphold and something to build in that world, however short-lived it may end up being. But she has to pick one path and forsake others.

I... don't have to do that. I can keep the things she'd have to let go while progressing along the branches of possibility and leave things vague without experiencing the negative effects of indecision, I can have preservation without stagnation, change without jeopardy... but it means that I only get to experience that life as something akin to a story.

... I am sorry, I got a little too deep into technical details there, I hope I answered your question."

To Mme. L. Brown,

I must begin this letter with an apology for its impertinence. You and I have never met face to face. However, I know that you were instrumental in the occurrence in my domain in which I was indisposed. For that, you have my gratitude.

As you may be aware, General Duroc and I are parents to a daughter, Helene, and I am seeking someone who may be able to supplement her education. I would like to speak with you at some point about your talents, and at a place and time of your choosing.

Attached to this letter is a small sachet of dried lavender from my gardens as a token of my appreciation. May it bring you pleasant dreams.

- J.B. Bessières, Duc d'Istrie, on @your-dandy-king's stationary

Now this is an occasion she had been looking forward to, despite being a little nervous about it. She isn't completely sure what parts of the truth of their mission she is free to share - honestly, she regrets not asking Murat for the specifics of what knowledge might harm his beloved while she had the chance. But her curiosity, in this case, is stronger than her worries.

To the Duke of Istria,

Do not worry, I do not find the act of sending a letter too forward from you, nor do I take the slightest offense. It is often the case here, after all, that one receives a note from a complete stranger and we already have several common acquaintances! (Well, acquaintances to me, your relationships with them are far more substantial...)

I am honoured that you consider me a good potential tutor for little Helene and I would be delighted to answer any questions you might have for me. As for the time and place, I suppose tomorrow morning is as good a time as any - and while I would gladly invite you here, I'm afraid the less-than-solid nature of some parts of my realm might not exactly be the pinnacle of comfort and safety, so I would suggest meeting in the vicinity of the Cathedral of Cahors in @your-dandy-king's domain, if that suits you. Luckily, I am quite able to find my way there.

I wish you and your family the best and I am looking forward to our meeting!

Sincerely,

Lydia B.

P.S.

I realised I forgot to thank you for the lavender, which is honestly baffling, considering it's one of my favourite flowers. You have chosen well and your gift is much appreciated.

[barrowsteeth]

The Subtle Art of Attraction

[note: long post + gif heavy meta ahead!]

Much has been said about the innocence of the Heartstopper tv series since it premiered. In season one, there is no drinking, no smoking or drug use, no swearing (much to the irritation of those who just want Nick Nelson to say f*ck since he does so regularly in the graphic novels). There is also little sexual content, and nothing beyond hand holding and some pretty innocent kissing. But this doesn’t mean pleasure takes a back seat in the series, and sometimes finding ways to show physical attraction in subtle ways, leaving it up to the viewer to interpret, makes for an equally satisfying experience. I feel Heartstopper excels in this area, particularly where Nick and Charlie are concerned. There are dozens of these moments and I couldn't possibly mention them all, so I'll highlight my favorites. Feel free to add yours to the comments so we can all obsess discuss. Now, let’s dive right into episode two, where we see the first hints of how Nick’s feelings for Charlie are changing.

Nick seems fairly oblivious to start, but everything changes the day Charlie visits his house and he notices Charlie’s haircut. In the previous scene, Tori said Charlie’s hair looks the same, which leads us to believe that Nick is a little hyper-focused on Charlie's appearance, at least enough to notice a subtle change in his hair length. He doesn’t hesitate to reach out and play with Charlie’s curls, and when Charlie asks if it looks bad, Nick starts to blurt out that Charlie looks good, before he catches himself, looks Charlie up and down, then corrects to say the haircut looks great. Subtlety is not a skill Nick Nelson has mastered.

We've all talked a lot about the scene in which Charlie tries to teach Nick how to play the drums, but it’s a turning point for Nick and I think it needs to be mentioned. My favorite part of the scene is when Charlie grabs Nick’s hands and starts tapping out the beat. They’re squished together on that little stool, Charlie’s hands tightly gripped around his own, and when Nick finally breaks his gaze away from their hands and looks at Charlie, the realization that something is different is clear on his face, even if he hasn’t quite put all the pieces together yet. I love the parallel between their hands touching in this scene and the next.

In the next scene, we see that Nick and Charlie have been sitting on the couch watching movies. Nick seems a little tired when he looks over to see that Charlie has fallen asleep next to him. Perhaps his defenses are down because of the late hour? We see everything start to slowly click into place in Nick’s mind. He starts by smiling fondly at Charlie but quickly lowers his gaze to Charlie’s mouth. His own mouth opens a little and he looks back up at Charlie, considering. 

They are alone, the room is cozy and quiet except for the movie playing softly in the background, when we see Nick looking at Charlie’s upturned hand, practically asking to be held. Nick can’t resist hovering his hand over Charlie’s in this safe space. While the first experiment is short, Nick looks at Charlie’s mouth again after the first pass of his hand over Charlie’s, and he can’t resist going back for more. On the second pass, he holds his hand over Charlie’s for a much longer time, soaking up the imagined feeling of what it would be like to lower his hand just a little bit more and slot their fingers together. Is he remembering what it felt like when Charlie’s hands covered his own when they were sitting at the drum kit?

By the end of the scene Nick knows what he’s feeling, and what’s fascinating is that even after everything that’s happened so far, he doesn’t make excuses and run for the door, yet. Instead, he and Charlie have a lengthy goodbye and a spontaneous hug before Nick finally begins to panic and leaves.

We see a similar sizzle and fizz in episode three when Nick and Charlie are alone in the ballroom and have their first kiss, which is just as tentative and soft and sweet as anyone could have wished for. But while I adore their first kiss, it’s the second kiss that truly shows the physical attraction between them. This second kiss is more passionate, less controlled, and a little messier than the first. They now know they like kissing each other, but it’s too new and exciting to worry about technique and how their mouths fit together. This kiss is full of want, and while it’s still pretty innocent by tv standards, we can see how different this is than their first nervous kiss. Charlie’s hand cups Nick’s face before they kiss, then Nick pulls Charlie in closer by his shoulder. Mid-kiss, Charlie fists his other hand in Nick’s shirt, and when this kiss ends, Charlie’s hand slides down so he’s gripping Nick’s shirt in both of his hands. They don’t separate right away after this second kiss and while we can see Nick is a little shocked and awestruck, the panic doesn’t settle in until he hears Harry’s voice.

The morning after the party, there’s an entirely different tension between our boys when Nick shows up unexpectedly at Charlie’s house. Neither is sure how the other is feeling since Nick ran off after their kiss the night before. When they retreat to Charlie’s room, we see Charlie looking at Nick as he takes off his rain-soaked sweatshirt. This isn’t the first time Charlie has seen Nick’s body; they’re on the rugby team together and we’ve seen Nick without his shirt in the changing room before practice. But that isn’t a safe place to look at another boy’s body, especially not for an out gay kid like Charlie. While the circumstances are not ideal, Charlie can’t help but look in the privacy of his own room. Of course Charlie being Charlie, he quickly averts his eyes when he catches himself looking, adding to the guilt weighing  on his mind.

Thankfully, Nick and Charlie are back on track the next morning and this time, they can barely (read: cannot at all) contain their excitement when they see each other in form the next morning. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to watch them say hi to each other without smiling like a fool – and happily so! A few hours later, we find Nick waiting for Charlie in Mr Ajayi’s art room. Charlie pokes fun at Nick for saying he missed him after only four hours apart, but honestly, if you are Charlie Spring, you are probably bursting with joy hearing the boy you like say this to you! The boys are still all smiles as they banter and tease, and Charlie pulls Nick’s hand to his under the table. This is all really new, and scary for Nick especially,  but it’s also exciting and fun, and joyful. They are simply happy to be alone together, to be able to openly flirt and smile and touch, however secretly, in the sanctuary of the art room.

I’m running out of room for gifs so I’m going to skip over episode five, since I went into great detail about the arcade scene in another post, and move right on to my favorite episode in the series, Girls. So much happens to advance Nick and Charlie’s relationship in episode six, it almost – almost – could have been a happy season finale.

We first see Nick and Charlie spending time together on a blanket in the park with Nellie. Nick asks Charlie about how he knew he was gay and it’s clear he’s trying to work through his uncertainty about his sexuality. I love how this scene opens because we’ve just seen Nick have his big Pirates of the Caribbean moment, after which he watched the vlogger talk about bisexuality. But now he’s ready to open up a little bit more to Charlie. He asks him questions and includes him in the conversation. He doesn't divulge much, yet, but this is the first time we’ve seen them openly discuss it, and it feels like a big step that they’ve reached this point.

When Nick gets frustrated with himself, Charlie tries to lighten the mood and takes his hand before asking Nick if he wants to kiss under the guise of helping him figure things out. This moment is so adorable and soft it makes my toes curl, but I also think it shows how comfortable they’ve become with casual physical intimacy. 

After some playful banter, Nick reaches out for Charlie’s hands and pulls him back down to the blanket. They’re out together in public, tucked in next to an old tree for a little privacy. And while Charlie initially looks around before taking Nick’s hand, and their almost-kiss is interrupted before it starts, the lead up to the kiss sparks with attraction. Nick looks like the only thing he wants in the entire world is to kiss Charlie, which is understandable because Charlie looks absolutely kissable!

When I started planning this post, I was only going to focus on this next scene – in which Nick and Charlie are doing their homework in Charlie’s room – because it is packed with little moments that show how much these boys are attracted to one another, but also how far they’ve come in their relationship. So let’s dig deep into all of my favorite moments.

We start off with a beautiful, long shot of Charlie watching Nick. What I love most about this scene is how much time Charlie is given to simply look at Nick and appreciate the physicality of him. In the graphic novel, Nick is caught staring at Charlie in this scene, but I actually prefer that they changed the point of view in the tv series. We’re given ample opportunity to see Nick’s soppy love face (my favorite thing in the entire world, to be honest) throughout season one, and a lot of the focus is on Nick’s journey. But Charlie is on his own journey, and I think it’s important that he’s given the screen time here. In addition to leveling things up a little bit, I think this scene in particular has special significance for Charlie.

Charlie is an out, gay boy, the only one in his entire school. He had a sort-of relationship with Ben for a few months, but it was always clandestine. They met in the shadows to kiss occasionally but they weren’t boyfriends. Ben never came to his house. Ben never acknowledged knowing Charlie in front of anyone. Their relationship was limited to secret rendezvous in dark corners, only on Ben’s timeline and on Ben’s terms. Even though Nick and Charlie are tucked away in Charlie’s room, and they aren’t out to the world as a couple, they have established a relationship by this point and have talked about how much they like each other. As Charlie said in the art room in episode four, it is completely different than it was with Ben.

So it’s because of this that I’m thrilled that Charlie gets to have focus in this scene. The guy he likes so much is in his room, casually doing his homework, and Charlie is given all the time in the world to just stare and appreciate how attractive he finds Nick. The lighting highlights Nick’s entire body, not just his face, and Charlie just stares and stares and lets his mind wander. He twiddles with his pen and just keeps on looking, and it gives the viewer time to wonder what he’s thinking.

Even after Nick catches him staring, and Charlie’s eyes flick back up to Nick’s face, it takes Charlie a second to get a hold of himself. Then he tosses his pen at Nick to break the tension. In reality, it’s only seven or eight seconds before Nick looks up and sees Charlie watching him, but in a 22 minute episode, every second counts. It feels like a conscious decision to show that it’s a perfectly normal, wonderful, and exciting thing to be able to simply look at the person you’re attracted to and take the time to savor it.

But of course, the scene that makes me feel Nick and Charlie’s attraction deep in my bones comes next, after Nick tells Charlie he told Tara and Darcy they’re going out. Charlie’s face is a mix of  disbelief and joy when he tackles Nick to the floor. Nick gives Charlie the most bewildered look when Charlie breaks their kiss to ask him if he’s sure he wanted to come out to the girls. When they begin to kiss again, Nick flips Charlie over so Charlie is underneath him, completely wrapped up in him, then dives back in for another kiss.

The viewer doesn’t see a lot of actual kissing in this part of the scene, but the boys’ body language  – Charlie’s arms tightening around Nick’s body, his fists bunched in Nick’s sweatshirt – shows the viewer how different and intense these kisses are. The rest is left to our imagination.

[tojisun]

I saw that the requests are open :) how about toji who can't move on from his wife dying and then he gets a relationship with the reader (like a year or two) but like i said Toji can't move on so he sometimes cries in his sleep begging for his wife and he still wears his wedding ring, then the reader left and toji regrets it (change everything you want, it is an angst to fluff 'cause for the life of me I can't handle sad endings :)) thank youuu

HI! okay so i finally finished this request, im sorry it took so long. and now im sorry it turned out super long. i enjoyed writing this piece, thank you so much! i tweaked your request a bit so that it feels more comfortable writing it, i hope u like this <3

working title: between the pages

toji x fem reader

content warning: mamaguro had to be named and she is going by kaori in this fic, there is an oc who would appear quite often, book references, au - no curses, legal age gap, character death references. // word count: 7.1k

There is a saying stored somewhere in Kaori's books (those that Toji never really bothered to read until now) about misery.

He doesn’t quite recall how it goes so he spends his free time, and he has a lot of those these days, browsing the worn pages of each book that amass dust in her shelves to see if he could find it. Toji doesn’t know what it is that drives him to search for a measly quote or why he even wishes to know what it says. He wonders if this is all an empty motion—an attempt to drown out the pain and to forget about her absence. A routine that dulls the sorrow and mutes his senses.

Some days, he forgets that she is gone.

Most days, it is all that he could think about.

Then, Saturday morning, a minute before four a.m., Toji finds what he had been looking for.

“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.”

What a cruel thing to read.

───────────────

After Kaori’s funeral, the Fushiguros took most of her possessions with them, leaving only a select few that Toji had fought for.

They never really did like him for her, after all. Only Kaori’s mother, now an old weeping woman who is rendered ill after her daughter’s death, had been warm to Toji. Maybe because he was Kaori’s husband and she was her only daughter, the youngest of her eight children, which made her love Toji despite the sourness from her husband and her seven boys. Or maybe because she had seen the lovelessness that Toji had grown up in and wanted to be a mother for him too. Whatever the reason may have been, it had long sizzled out because Toji knows he’s failed her.

So when she sat him down, quiet and aching and mourning in a way Toji had never seen before, especially not from his own blood, Toji knew what she would ask from him. And he knew what was the right thing to say.

“Son, we’d like to bring the boy home with us.” Her voice was broken, exhausted, small and weak. She rubbed her aged hands together, refusing to meet Toji’s eyes. She smelt of anguish and guilt. Just like me, Toji thought.

“We’d love to raise him as our own. And I think that, well—Toji-kun, I think it’s what she would’ve wanted for him too.”

Toji’s breath hitched and his eyes began watering almost immediately. It was playing dirty; to bring Kaori’s name and her wishes as if a weapon that was forged against him.

But even if she was wrong and that Kaori would have never liked this, Toji knew that the boy would truly fare better with them, instead.

What could Toji give him other than heartache and his own shortcomings? How could he love their son when he could barely love himself? What—

What is there to live for without her?

“Okay,” he said. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” she repeated. “Did she get to name him?”

No, Kaori had not. She died too quickly, too soon, leaving Toji when their family was just completed. She had only glanced at the boy, tickling his thin hair and pressing a light kiss on his chubby cheek, and then she was gone.

No. Kaori was not given the privilege to.

So instead, Toji thought of the time in their living room, his wife sat by the open balcony doors to feel the brush of the wind as she rubbed her belly, humming a song to fill in the silence. Toji remembered how she had looked at him upon his entrance, beckoning him close to gently take his hands, shaky as they were, and press them flat onto her belly. Toji remembered the little kick that he felt through her skin, just a little nudge, and her giggles at Toji’s wide eyes.

“Our blessing,” she told him before smiling so full and bright and filled with so much life.

And Toji knew that was enough. For him, for her, and for their little baby. It was enough for a sentimental name, one that would allow Kaori’s memory to live on.

“Megumi. Kaori wanted to name him Megumi.”

His mother-in-law was quiet after that, and Toji wondered if she realized that she was taking the last of Kaori’s remnants from Toji’s life. Then, he wondered if that was truly the right call.

───────────────

Toji reads Kaori’s books religiously, chasing after the ghost she left in between the worn pages of her favourite books. He gets to know her again, relearning who she is through poems and prose, and putting together these new pieces—these glimpses of Kaori’s soul that she had left—in hopes of having more of her.

It is madness, some might say, but Toji thinks it is just his grieving.

The months crawl by, but they do move. There is a quote somewhere in her books about these slow hours, and Toji pretends that he does not have it memorized in spades.

“That’s what the world is, after all: an endless battle of contrasting memories.”

The words come to Toji like the wind; plain and unseeing, but irrevocably heart-wrenching. Is this what she wanted to happen when she left those books? To have Toji be haunted by words that should not have made sense, as if they are lifelines that he is desperately clutching onto because what else of her is left for him if not those?

“You left me,” he says, tracing her name chiselled amongst the others in the Fushiguro family grave. “You said,” his voice hitches, “you said that we’d raise Megu—the boy together. Then you went back on your word and left us both.”

The wind blows and the leaves rustle, and Toji has never felt more alone in this world.

“How do I live without you?”

There is no reply. There hasn’t been one for a year now.

Toji waits, straining his ears because maybe some superstitions are right. Maybe the wind does carry her voice and maybe then she will finally answer him. Maybe there is something to be heard in the cemetery. Maybe her ghost is beside him, after all.

But there is nothing. Toji stands up and leaves.

───────────────

He finds their picture tucked in one of her older books. The pages of this one are frayed and bent, as though it had been drenched in water and despite the careful fixing, it never really did get restored. But he knows this book: it’s the one she’s always held close to her being. A favourite, perhaps, or a carrier of sentimental values, those that date even before meeting Toji.

He never really got around to reading it then—the wound was too fresh, too deep—afraid that if he were to finish the book, then it was like the last piece of Kaori was truly gone.

But tired from work and jittery from pain, Toji flips the book open. Then, that is where he sees it. An old photo of them together, taken from one of those cheap photo booths that she had forced him into.

In the picture, Kaori had her head resting on Toji’s shoulder who encircled his arms around her, tucking her underneath his chin. Toji remembers pressing her impossibly closer, snuggling her on his chest because Toji wanted a reminder. Wanted proof that he is loved and spoken for.

He gingerly plucks it from in between the pages, stroking a finger at Kaori’s smiling face.

(He willed himself not to read what was on the page, but his eyes were faster than his mind. “I want you to remember me. Will you remember that I existed, and that I stood next to you here like—.”

Toji tears his eyes away, focusing on Koari’s picture instead.)

Toji never really forgot her face, gods he doesn’t know if he ever will, but it’s been too long since Toji had seen her look so alive. He studies her face, trailing his eyes at her smile and at the crinkles at her eyes and at the shimmer of her lips and at the rose of her cheeks, and sears it all to his memory.

A choked sob makes its way from his throat.

He flips the picture, remembering Kaori scribbling something at the back and—yeah, there it is.

In careful hiragana, Kaori wrote, “My love and I.”

“Fuck,” Toji whispers and the tears come easily, painful sobs wrenching themselves from his throat as he drowns at the sorrow once again.

───────────────

It’s been three years (six months and nineteen days) since Kaori’s death, and Toji still thinks there is not much left to live for himself.

Stumbling to survive, he has long given up on trying to find a semblance of joy, a sliver of hope, in this lonely world.

Kaori’s mother stopped giving him updates about Megumi (sometimes, saying his name hurts Toji in ways he cannot explain; it’s like being reminded of what was taken from him, what is irrevocably gone), and Toji tries to pretend that he understands why. Granted the boy was not told of his existence, but Toji thinks he still deserves to know even a glimpse of his son’s life. Of Kaori’s son. But they have changed their numbers and cleansed themselves of Toji, leaving him to mourn on his own once again.

He flips a page.

“Is that Sputnik Sweetheart?”

Toji peers up from his lashes to look at you, seeing awe sparkling in your eyes as you sweep a look at the book in his possession. Selfishly, he wished that no one else had read Kaori’s books; that these are something only she and Toji knew, a secret they share, a language no one else can decipher.

He clears his throat. “Yeah. Read it?”

“Me? Nah,” you say, chuckling. “Could never really go through Murakami’s books, they’re too long and loaded.” He smiles at that, thinking, yeah, they are. He’s always wondered how Kaori ever finished them so quickly when Toji is lumbering page to page, rereading certain passages just to fully soak them in. “My ex loved them though, s’why I could recognize that,” you add.

He grunts. You tilt your head at the empty seat in front of him. “Can I?”

He casts a quick glance at the cafe, brows furrowing at seeing how packed it had gotten, before turning to you and nods.

“Sweet,” you say, collapsing at the chair and sagging in comfort.

Toji takes that time to study you. You are years younger than him, that’s the first thing he notices. Maybe ten or so years younger? You look like it. You’re short too. Well, shorter than him. You look tired; haggard in a way that he only remembers seeing from Kaori, back when she was still in college and cursing her professors. Then there’s this aching in your eyes that Toji doesn’t want to acknowledge, doesn’t want to see lest he is reminded of himself. It was this type of longing trapped in your eyes that never seemed to have healed, just dampened. It was there when you were talking about your ex, a heavy feeling that you pushed away quickly. But Toji has familiarized himself with the flickering sorrow.

He knows. You’ve lost someone too, huh?

“So how far along are you in that book?” You ask, shrugging your winter jacket off and hanging it on your chair.

“Finished it.” Toji picks up his coffee and sips to avoid saying more, but you smile at him, undeterred, and go back to fixing yourself up, unwrapping your scarf to let it hang loosely around your shoulders instead.

“Must be a good book if you’re rereading it,” you say, chuckling lightly. He gives another grunt before turning back to his book, and he sees you shrug from his peripheral, not taking offence at his dismissal.

Not that he cares, but there is nowhere else Toji can go to right now. Snow began pattering outside the cafe, and despite that the streets are still busy and full of people, and home is—there hasn’t been a place like home for him anymore. So he is grateful for your polite conversation, but he is more thankful for your silence. It seems like you two need solace, after all.

He returns to his book and you start fumbling about in your laptop before pulling out textbooks and notebooks and cleanly piling them on your side of the table. Your coffee (iced caramel latte, too sweet and kind of impractical for the cool weather) has begun perspiring as you lose yourself in your work, forgetting about your drink, and Toji pretends that he is not watching you from the corners of his eyes. He pretends that seeing you work does not feel like coming close to normalcy again.

There is an hour left before the shop closes, but Toji packs up to return to his apartment. You look up at his clamour before returning to your notes, notebooks sprawled open as if it was not enough that you have your laptop with you. He walks to the trash and dumps his empty coffee cup before sliding to the door. He pauses. Then he walks back to you again.

You look up once more upon hearing his steps, confusion clouding your gaze as you tilt your head in wonder. He speaks before you could. “Good luck with your work,” he says. He hovers, waiting.

“Oh,” you utter, confused. “Thank you?” You phrase your reply like a question and Toji’s lips quirk in amusement. He nods, a silent goodbye, then he walks out, this time for real.

Before rounding the corner, he turns to cast a quick glance at the shop again and feels a quiet type of elation when he sees you looking back at him. He raises a hand—another goodbye; he wonders what prompted it—before turning at the corner and disappearing completely from your view. He wonders if you mirrored his silent farewell.

He thinks you did.

───────────────

He returns to the cafe two weeks later.

It is late and the wind is a lot more biting, stinging his ears and nose. Toji’s face scrunches when he finally makes it to the shop, breathing in the familiar smell of coffee beans and too-sweet pastries. It’s quite packed again, everyone milling about to avoid the winter winds.

Then, he sees you.

Much like before, you are sitting at the same table, on the same chair. Your books are open again, this time you are scribbling in your notebook instead of typing away in your laptop. Your coffee cup—you’re still drinking iced coffee, it seems—is empty, leaving a mix of melting ice and cream-coloured leftover brew.

He turns to the cashier and orders two coffees, one hot and one iced, for him and for you. Toji tries not to think about the impulsive decision he made, choosing instead to bask in the warmth of the shop as he waits for the barista to finish up with his order. He does not notice it, but his eyes stray and linger on you, watching the way your hair curls behind your scarf and the way your back slouches deeper every time you write.

He huffs a humoured laugh when you thump your head on the table, hand fisted around your pen looking as if you have given up. Just like Kaori before, he thinks.

He pauses, dread filling up his heart. No. No.

When his name is called, Toji grabs his order and briskly walks out the door. Only when he is close to the train station does he realize that he is still holding onto the iced coffee. Toji throws it in the nearby trash can and scurries off into the platform.

───────────────

He visits Kaori’s grave.

It feels wrong, somewhat. It feels like he came to her because he is guilty. Guilty of thinking of another woman, guilty of comparing her to someone else. He places the flowers on the stone, but it just feels like an apology. Like an excuse. He tries forming words in his mouth, but they all burn at his throat and leave him empty.

Toji doesn’t quite know what to call the feeling—lies, Toji hears himself rebut, you know what it is—he just wants to unlatch it from his being and discard it away. He would rather feel hollow than feel this.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, but he cannot find it in himself to say what he is sorry for.

He watches as the snow piles up on the stone, dropping onto the flowers that he brought and clumping together with no abandon. There is a certain silence in the cemetery, but Toji welcomes it, anyway. It allows his veins to simmer and it lays the paths for Toji’s mind to wander.

He finds that he often loses himself in this place, almost like a plea for Kaori to come and take him with her.

Toji hears the crunching of snow as tiny shuffles make their way close to Kaori’s grave, and he waits for them to move away and skirt around him but they don’t. Instead, the padding of boots stops a few feet away from Toji, almost hesitating in the way they hover at his right. Curious, he looks up and sees you.

“Oh,” he hears you say, blinking at him, your soft voice tinged with surprise. “It’s you!”

He chuckles before he can stop himself. “Yeah. It’s me.”

There is a pause as you figure out if you were to stay or walk away, unsure if it is overstepping if you inquired any more of his time there or if it is rude to just continue on your way. Toji sees these thoughts dance across your face, his scarred lips tugging up in amusement (endearment), so he makes the choice for you.

“Visiting someone?” Toji asks and urges you to come closer. You take gentle steps, careful and quiet as you move to stand beside him.

He sees you eye the Fushiguro’s grave, reading all the different names carved on the stones. Toji wonders if you’ve seen Kaori’s name and just knew that the other half of his soul, the better half, is now dust.

“Yeah,” you finally say. He blinks when you utter a name he doesn’t recognize.

“What?”

“That’s, uh, that’s my name? We never really got to introduce ourselves last time,” you reply, scratching your cheek, embarrassed.

Toji grunts in understanding. “Fushiguro Toji.”

You turn to the grave in question. Toji shakes his head. “I’m visiting my wife.” You make a low noise at the base of your throat, nodding your head slowly.

He clears his throat. “How about you?”

Then there is this wobbly smile on your face and Toji thinks, I know how it feels.

───────────────

There was a man sitting at your usual table, grumpy as he flipped a page from a book that you are too familiar with.

(Flashes of Teruma’s bright orange hair danced across your irises, and for a moment it was like he was there with you again.

“Baby!” He would call you as he always had, and you would be weak on your knees because he’s alive, alive, alive.)

There’s a scar at the corner of the man’s mouth, long enough that it spanned both of his lips, and he oddly looked good with it, you thought. Then you remembered that it is rude to stare at people and so you forced your eyes to meet his, and saw pools of green flaked with glitters of gold. He was reluctant to allow you to sit with him.

That’s fine, you just wanted to get through your Geography homework, anyway.

He didn’t speak much, choosing to read his book again. Likewise, you zoned into your work and focused in earnest. Time trickled and ran, but every flip of a page from the man’s book sent you reeling back in time.

(Cheeky smiles and rough palms.

“I’ll come back soon,” is whispered on your lips.

“Okay,” you kissed back.

But he never did.).

When the man wished you well with your work before ambling away, you could not help the way your lips stretched into a smile.

What a gentle giant he was.

. . . . . . . . . . .

A couple weeks later, you saw Gentle Giant again. You saw his mirage from your spot, and you watched as he walked away from the shop, his steps looking rushed and almost frantic. The two cups of coffee in his hands sloshed at his brisk movements, and you just wished that whatever he was speed-walking to was worth him spilling his drinks.

Belatedly, you wondered if the other cup was for someone else.

You stared at his quickly retreating back until he rounded the corner, and disappeared from your vantage completely. Then, you turned back to your godforsaken paper, cursing your professors and the educational system.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Gentle Giant’s name is Toji, and he lost his wife. He hasn’t told you much, but you still want to tell him about Teruma. So you do.

You tell him about the boy who you’ve loved for six years, two of which were spent loving his ghost. You tell him about the breakup, the mutual understanding shared between you two before he went to Detroit. You tell him about Teruma apologizing, about you saying it is okay. Then, shakily, you tell him about the plane crash, the one that was on the news two years ago. You tell him about the funeral held for the boy whose body they never recovered.

“I was gonna marry him,” you say. “I was so sure that I was gonna spend the rest of my life with him.”

Toji does not mention the tears on your cheeks or the way your breath hitches or the tremble of your hands. He does not offer apologies or any placation, and you know it is his kindness. Silent, like everything else about him.

───────────────

Toji tells you about Kaori. He thinks it is to make it fair, after all you told him about Teruma, but really, he just wants to let the pain out. He sees how light you have felt after, and Toji yearns to feel that free. There is an aching in his heart that has festered and aged, and Toji wants, even for a bit, to let go. So he does, and he starts by telling you about his wife.

Toji loses himself in the memories, closing his eyes as he relives his moments with Kaori. It’s been years but she is still bright in his mind, concrete and alive, almost as if Toji could just reach out and feel her warmth again. Anguish thrums in his veins as he tells you about their son, but he bulldozes through because he wants the good memories. There is no more of Megumi that Toji could call his own, so Toji traces Kaori’s books, instead, and tells you their significance.

This is when Toji feels you come alive, springing like a bud and uncurling outward to meet him in his ramblings. You pipe in about Murakami’s books, excited and nostalgic at the same time. He tells you about Kaori’s frustrations—“Too much open-ending, apparently.”—and you tell him about Teruma’s—“He calls them poetry.”—and Toji feels like he’s found a kindred in your aching soul.

The ghosts surrounding you two must think you guys are fools; to be licking each other’s wounds as you recount your lives with your beloved. But so be it, Toji thinks, because he’s finally found a semblance of peace in his life.

He thinks of Sputnik Sweetheart, how this all started, and he remembers: “It came to me then. That we were wonderful travelling companions but in the end no more than lonely lumps of metal in their own separate orbits.”

How fitting, isn’t it?

───────────────

It becomes a regularity for you and Toji to meet in the cafe, Murakami’s books in his hands and your textbooks (and notebooks and laptop) in yours.

The meetups start quietly, letting the tension bleed out and allowing comfort to seep through. Then the greetings come, these ones more genuine. You share something about your life, and Toji listens. He is more reserved, only saying things that have no follow up questions, but it seems you do not care about his plans because you always find a way to make him speak more.

Often, Toji finds his voice wearing down after those meet-ups with you, and he does not remember a time after Kaori when he’s spoken this much. He feels elated, alive, and living.

Sometimes, it’s still a struggle to go about life without Kaori.

Sometimes, he forgets it as long as he’s with you. And if that isn’t terrifying.

He learns who you are past the stress of university exams and incoherent cursing at whoever pissed you off at work. He unveils your person deeper, seeing what you’ve become after trying to heal around Teruma’s passing. Toji sees someone who he wants to be like.

You laughed when Toji uttered this to you. “I’m a mess, Toji-san!” You said, clutching your stomach as laughter pittered off from your throat. That’s another thing that Toji learns about you: you say his name like it is milk gliding at your tongue.

“I di’n say you ain’t,” he remembers answering. I just want to feel more than sorrow, he added as an afterthought. He wonders if you knew what he wanted to say back then.

It seems like you always do.

───────────────

Spring air turns a lot hotter, welcoming summer earlier than anyone has anticipated. The only good thing that came out of the upcoming humid season are the flowers that grow in bigger and cheaper bundles.

He grabs white chrysanthemums for Kaori, you brought Teruma orange gerberas.

There are more people in the cemetery these days, plucking out weeds and cleaning their family graves as they welcome the new season. Toji helps you clean Teruma’s and you both hover at Kaori’s, offering a short prayer.

“Who knows?” You begin as Toji walks you to the station. He lives on the other side of the city, but it is still too early and Toji doesn’t want to be alone again. Not yet. “Maybe Kaori-san and Teru are reading Murakami’s books wherever they are right now.”

Toji snorts. “You believe in the afterlife?” He pushes his hair back, noting that it’s grown longer again and that he needs to cut it soon.

You shrug, humming quietly, and looking away when Toji meets your eyes. “I’d like to think that there is a better place for the dead. That there’s a place where the people we love are happier. Because why else would they leave us, you know?”

Toji blinks, quiet and stunned. Then, he says, “Yeah. Yeah, I get it.”

And it sounds a lot better, kinder, than what Toji used to believe in. Because if there is an afterlife, then surely Kaori is at peace and she is happy and she is no longer hurting.

So maybe, with this in mind, maybe Toji can begin letting go. Because if Kaori is in a better place, then maybe Toji doesn’t need to be haunted anymore.

(Because if Kaori is happy then maybe he can be too—)

───────────────

A year and a half spent with you, chasing away each other’s loneliness and submerging yourselves in books that are left behind by your most precious ones, has passed when you tell him that you love him.

Toji turns to you in surprise, watching the blush on your cheeks as you stop walking, waiting for his answer. Your eyes are steady as they gaze back onto him, your face schooled into a mask. He notes the falling leaves around you two and the wind that blows from his back and the way your hair sweeps away from your face and how you tremble, having always been weak to the cold.

His first thought is, You look good even in autumn.

Then his next is, I know.

“Are you asking me out?” Toji finally asks, grimacing when his voice breaks at the end, and swallowing to dislodge the lump stuck in his throat.

You shrug, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and Toji watches, mesmerized. “If you want,” you say. “I mean, if you want to be in a relationship with me, that’s great. If you don’t, that’s fine for me too, Toji-san, we can just remain as friends. Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that I love you. Have been in love with you.” You coughed, blushing and looking away, shy all of a sudden.

There is strength in your voice that Toji cannot seem to shake.

(Later, when he looks back on this day, Toji will recognize that it is fortitude; it is courage that you have gathered in your arms and had lain in front of him, asking him to make a choice. Asking him to choose you.)

And he thinks that he’s known this day would come. He’s waited for this day to come. But Toji knows his faults, he has known them before any other could. For many nights that he was sleepless, Toji spent the time tracing the fractures in his being and knowing that there is something wrong with him. That there is something he cannot get through, something he cannot let go.

“I don’t think I can ever forget her,” he tells you, honest and broken.

“I didn’t expect you to,” you answer. “I don’t think we can love wholly again, but I still want to try with you.”

Oh, Toji thinks, you understand. You understand in ways no other had, in ways no one was willing to, and Toji thinks that maybe that is enough: that he’d feel safe in your arms and that he’d get to be happy again and that he wouldn’t be alone anymore. And he wants to. With you.

So he trudges close to where you stand, where you wait for him, and clasps his hand with yours and shyly says, “Please take care of me.”

And when you send him a smile, the one that has always been for him, Toji wills his heart to calm down.

───────────────

Nothing changes much between you two, except for the relearning of boundaries and stumbling into new ways of expressing the bubbles in your hearts, the ‘I love yous’ that are echoed. Sometime back then, Toji thought that he was doing something wrong—it was a relationship unlike Kaori’s, yes that he knew, but it was also different from all the others—until you eased his worries and told him, in an utterly fond voice, that your shared love parallels a friendship that is eons stronger.

“As long as you’re happy,” you said to him, holding onto his hands as you two lined up to pay for the bouquets, lilies for Kaori and freesias for Teruma.

“I am,” Toji replied before he leant down to press a soft kiss at the crown of your head. “And you?”

You craned your neck to look up at him, your smile wide and genuine, and whispered, “With you? Always.”

Toji’s heart swells at the memory.

Loving you, Toji thinks, is easy and light. It is built on trust and friendship and camaraderie, bearing a depth that no one seems to truly understand. A depth that people often passed off as being each other’s rebound, each other’s second choice. But neither you nor Toji think of your relationship this way.

Not when love brims from your lips, pouring your heart out with each kiss, each confession, all of which Toji reciprocates. Being with you is like finding light in the darkness, like feeling hope after the chaos, like being home once again. But it is also like a dandelion amidst the grass or a mug tucked at the very back of the cupboard; like slotting himself by your side feels natural and just right.

───────────────

There is a sound that tickles your senses, one that you try to bat away but it comes with vengeance. It starts off quiet, a whimper, and you try to drown it back, turning to sleep once again. But the sound grows louder, more desperate, more hurt, and there is nothing else for you to do but jolt awake, gasping as if you were submerged in water.

You think you dreamt of Teruma—orange hair, rough palm against your cheek, a static voice announcing a series of names, the feeling of dread, then, the dropping agony at hearing his—but the recollection fades as you turn to Toji, seeing him weeping at his sleep.

He is haunted—like me, you think, like me—and you crawl close to him, urgency steeping in your veins. “Toji-san?” You call. He whimpers but does not stir, and he turns his head away, his face scrunching in pain.

You caress his cheeks, hands gentle despite their tremors. “Toji-san,” you say, panic clouding your voice. “Come back to me, please.”

Please, Kaori-san, give him back to me.

Toji does not wake, curling on himself, instead, as tears continue to run down his cheeks. You do not let him go, voice washing over him even when he cannot hear you. You try shaking him and slapping at his shoulders, hoping the pain that his body feels is stronger than that of his heart. But you know. You know he is there, seeing Kaori leave again.

Toji continues to slip deeper into his dreams, lost and hurting. “You are okay,” you whisper, pressing kisses at his closed eyes, willing them to finally open. “You’ve been doing better, so come back here, Toji-san. To me. With me, like always.”

It takes a few more torturous minutes before he gasps awake and sits upright, his hand clutching where his heart rests. He wheezes, gulping air hungrily, before choking on a sob. He turns to you, calls your name in a quiet voice that breaks your heart, and you open your arms, not trusting your voice to comfort him. He collapses onto you, pressing his face on your shoulder as he wails, shaking, clutching you tighter as if afraid that you too will leave him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” you reply. “You’re okay.”

Toji shakes his head, but he does not say anything else and lets the silence go on as he holds you close. You don’t mind, choosing to run your fingers through his hair, and letting him come back down from his dreams.

“What if we’d never work out because I’m not—I still remember her. Sometimes, I still miss her,” he finally says, breaking the silence.

You flinch and Toji must have felt you tense because he pulls back from your arms, sliding until he is sitting in front of you. He ducks his head when he sees the tears pooling at the corner of your eyes. There is silence between you two, letting his words stew. You inhale sharply when his hand twines with yours, tugging, almost begging.

You sigh from your nose. “What do you want to do, Toji-san?”

“I’m sorry,” is what he says instead.

You shake your head. “Tell me. Let’s talk this through.”

He slumps forward, bowing down into himself. Your hand twitches, wanting to pull him in an embrace again, but you take his silence and allow him space.

“I love you,” he begins, voice steady and sure, and your heart flutters. I know, you want to say, but you see how he tests out the words on his tongue, hesitant and stiff, and so you wait. He squeezes your hand. Thank you.

“I'm terrified. Darling, I love you but why can’t I let go of the pain? It’s like, I allow myself to be happy but then I remember her and then I miss her all over again.” He sighs, almost a hiss, and he lets one of your hands go to push his hair back, agitated. “And I want you with me, god knows I don’t want to let you go. But am I worth it?”

You huff a humourless laugh. “Always.”

“Baby—”

“No,” you interrupt, “Toji-san, listen to me. You are always worth it, worth my love.” His breath hitches at your words and you smile as he pulls you close again, this time sitting you on his lap. You sweep his hair away from his face and plant a kiss on his forehead, and another, and another. Precious kisses for your most precious person. “So worth my everything,” you mutter.

Toji hugs you tighter and rests his head at the crook of your neck. His big hands envelop your back and you feel so small like this, as if Toji could just tuck you close in the pocket of his chest, in his heart. At the same time, Toji looks so vulnerable. Shaken. Afraid. Your Gentle Giant folded so close to you, almost as if begging you to tell him why he should stay—

Your mind screeches to a halt. Oh, Toji-san.

“I dreamt of Teru tonight,” you start, clearing your throat when your voice shatters. Toji doesn’t move, but you know he’s listening. He always does. “I dreamt about him a few nights ago too. There are days when I miss him too much that I forget he’s gone. Then there are days that it’s all I could remember. Four years of being with him doesn’t just go away, it seems. He is seared into my memories, after all.”

The more you spoke, the more Toji tenses, freezing as if he could see where you are going with this. By the end of it, his head hovers in front of you, eyes searching for something within yours. He lifts a hand to cup your cheek and you nuzzle his palm, resting your smaller hand on top of his.

You are almost breathless when you continue, as if desperate and frantic. “But it doesn’t mean I love you any less, Toji-san. I miss Teru, but I love you. And for me, that is enough.” You whimper when he brushes a stray tear away from your cheeks. “And I need to know if you feel the same, Toji-san.”

You barely got the last of your words out before Toji is pulling you in for a kiss, warm lips meeting yours in a heated tangle. He pulls and pulls, pressing you impossibly close, his touch scorching your skin as he devours your doubts away, and you know, there and then, that he loves you just as much.

When you pull back, gasping, Toji touches his forehead with yours. “I do,” he says, voice as broken as yours. He says your name, then “I love you so.”

He kisses you again, this time slower but not any less intimate. “‘M sorry for what I said,” he whispers. “‘M sorry, my love.”

You kiss his cheeks and his nose, skirting away from his lips, and quietly giggling as you press a kiss on his chin instead. “I’m okay,” you say. “We’re okay.”

He hums, low and soft. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you reply. You grin. “‘And this love is about to carry me off somewhere.’”

He chokes on a laugh, one that you note is fond, after recognizing the reference. “It’ll carry you to me, hopefully,” he says cheekily and kisses you once again. You laugh, carefree and happy, as if a load has finally been lifted off your chest.

───────────────

Teruma’s death anniversary is today.

Toji knew even before he opened his eyes, sensing the ache in the air even before he could look at you. Toji turns to your side of the bed, not surprised to see it empty. He fumbles for his phone, checks the time, and stands up to prepare for the day.

He quickly leaves the apartment and speedwalks all the way to the flower shop. A worker greets him the moment the wind chimes sound, smiling as Toji makes his way to the counter. The owner looks up from his flower arrangements and sends Toji a smaller smile upon seeing him. Toji buys carnations and baby’s breaths, and walks out the door after telling the man that yes, Toji would greet you for him.

He takes the train and doesn’t bother with all the stares that people give him, tracing, instead, the familiar route toward the cemetery. He quickens his steps, almost jogging with how fast he is moving, sincere in his desperation to be with you through this.

When Toji gets to you, you are muffling your cries behind your palms, shaking as if you are about to collapse. He rushes to your side, afraid that you will, and you startle, turning to him. Toji’s heart breaks at the grief painted on your face, and he pulls you in for an embrace before you could utter a sound.

The flowers in his hand jostle and some of the petals fall, but Toji doesn’t spare them a thought as he rests a hand on your head and wishes that this helps even for a bit.

“I’ve got you,” Toji says. “I’ve got you.”

───────────────

“I’m home! Anyways, look what I found!” You scream as soon as you arrive, and Toji blinks at your excitement.

“Welcome back,” Toji greets, smiling fondly as you jump beside him, plopping yourself so close to him. You pull your bag to your lap, fumbling about, before pulling a worn book.

“I found this in the thrift store,” you say, showing him the book excitedly, lips stretched into a wide grin. “I wasn’t gonna buy it, but look.”

You flip at the pages before thrusting the old book under Toji’s nose. He picks it up, confused as to why you were showing him a book you know he’s read already, but then he catches sight of it.

“Is this—”

“It is!”

“And it was just in the thrift store?” Toji asks, still not looking away from Murakami’s autograph.

You laugh, nodding your head frantically. “Yup,” you say, popping the ‘p’. “Thought you’d love it.”

Toji turns to you and grins. “Well, I love everything you give me.”

“Aww, Toji-san! You’re such a sap!”

He rolls his eyes goodheartedly. “And you’re such a brat.”

“Mhmm. But you still love me, anyway.”

Toji smiles and finally, finally, pulls you in for a kiss. Then, “That I do, baby.”

(book references, order based on appearance):

1Q84, 1Q84, Norwegian Wood, Sputnik Sweetheart, Sputnik Sweetheart — all are written by Haruki Murakami

[spacedikut]

Can you talk about how happy spencer would be when he notices reader made him a space in her drawer without him asking? I just know he would be so excited about it and I'm 🥺

i don’t know whether you meant in the workplace or at home so i went with at home cause im a SUCKER for domesticity

he finds it on a lazy sunday, when the sun is bright but not sizzling and neither of you changes out of your pyjamas the whole day. his glasses are perched on his nose and he keeps yawning, hair ruffled to all hell and slippers that he mistakenly put on that are definitely yours cramping his feet. he’s in love. with the day and the world and you.

you appear from your bedroom a few minutes later, just as he’s poured coffee into your favourite cup and his new favourite cup - one you bought for him after shopping with penelope. he wanted to take it home but- on second thought, he could use the mug as an excuse to visit you and stay with you and that sounds much, much better.

you sit next to one another on the couch, drinking coffee and doing the newspaper puzzles together. it’s your favourite old person activity to do together - you curl up next to him, head perched on his shoulder as he scribbles and fills in the answers, playfully fighting with you over who gets the honour of putting in the very last letter of the crossword. 

he’s just writing cockatoo when the pen fizzles out, and before he even fully registers it you’re in the kitchen, opening a drawer he’s never seen you use before and coming back with a new pen.

which would be nothing, no big deal, if it wasn’t his favourite type of pen from his favourite company in his preferred colour. they’re not cheap, and to a lot of people not worth it.

“that’s a good pen choice,” he says, warming at the smile you give him when you wrap around him again.

“why thank you.”

and he thinks nothing of it, until later when he’s making you both tea and he can’t help himself - while the water is boiling he opens the drawer you got the pen from earlier and it’s like he’s looking at all the ingredients you’d need to summon your very own spencer reid.

sugar packets, pens, instant coffee, contact lense solution, even a microfibre cloth to clean his glasses. hell, there’s a ray bradbury book lying there, and a bookmark with a nikola tesla quote on it.

all his favourite things in one drawer.

he looks up, sees you on the couch mindlessly flipping through the finished newspaper. you’re blissfully unaware of what he’s discovered, unaware that his eyes are stinging and unaware that his heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest.

unaware that he’s just confirmed, irrevocably, that you are his person.

he skitters over in a hurry, plopping the cups on the coffee table and tackling you onto your back before you can even think about picking up your cup. you let out an oof but accept the love nonetheless, arms wrapping around his shoulders while he places chaste kisses on your neck. he hugs you so tightly, unable to put into words how happy he is, and you let out a confused laugh at it all.

“i have my own drawer?” he asks quietly.

“oh,” you realise, “you found that? it’s my little ‘spencer kit’.”

“’spencer kit’?”

“yeah. all the stuff you use the most.”

he pulls his head away from it’s hiding place; you brush his hair away from his eyes, happy lines surrounding them, and sigh happily when his forehead rests against yours.

“that’s really cool,” he sniffles.

“cool, huh?”

“yeah, cool. i say that now.” his nose brushes yours. “thank you.”

it’s a simple sunday, really, but it’s the first time spencer really feels he’s found where he belongs - hot drinks next to a newspaper with all the puzzles complete, the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with in his arms, and a whole lot of love in his chest. it’s a simple sunday, really, but he hopes it’s his forever.

[nopelleen]

Perish, Pretty Please (1/5)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Rick Flag was known to be a pretty good leader, it was the reason why he had been chosen to lead a squad of infamously reckless and idiotic criminals, however it was a lot harder to maintain his authority when one member of the team despised his guts for seemingly no reason.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Rick Flag x Reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.8k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: i haven’t written in so long but i’m a sucker for the new version of Rick Flag and i just couldn’t help myself, enjoy my attempt at a short enemies to lovers!

There was something peculiar about jail, something you had been told to expect.

Before being thrown into this dark, moist secluded space they had the audacity to call a cell, you had been the most apologetic, polite person, always so caring about people’s feelings and enjoying this status of people pleaser – enjoying the way people always responded so nicely to your bright smiles. Now, it felt so strange to think back about this small thing you used to be, so weary about appearing disrespectful that you’d bow down and stoop as low as you could to take the least space possible, making yourself smaller and smaller each day. Now, you wouldn’t be caught dead bowing down. Not since you had met him.

Being thrown into jail had been a riveting experience, if not a living nightmare that had chipped away at your soul days after days until you were nothing but a crumbling mess barely held together by a sizzling resentment. The change within you had been slow at first, almost imperceptible. It had taken a few months for you to let go of your old ways, a few months for them to break you. At first, you had been respectful towards the guard in front of your cell. It had apparently been your first mistake, and he had taken this as a challenge to reach into your soul and crush every last bit of goodness in you.

His name was Griggs. He had been the one guarding your cell for the better part of months now and he was without a shadow of a doubt the most repulsive person you had ever met.

They had put a collar on you, had thrown you into a dark and moist secluded cell, and if all of that wasn’t enough to reduce you to nothing, they had put you under his care. Him, who was known for his rough ways around prisoners, who had tortured Harley and somehow managed to chip away a bit more at her sanity. With more cowardice than you’d like to admit, you had told yourself that maybe the woman had fought back a bit too much, maybe if you behaved well enough you’d get out of this experience with as much dignity as possible.

Wishful thinking. Sad, pathetic wishful thinking.

Words, spit, needles, buckets of cold water, there wasn’t any mean of humiliation he hadn’t used on you, and the more you responded, the more you got. If at first you bared your teeth at the slightest attack, as time went on your strength started to fail you and every word you yearned to spit in his face remained unsaid, held back inside of you under the form of a bubbling resentment to which you offered no outlet. It was almost its own form of torture, watching Griggs bark laughter as you shook on the ground, soaked wet from the bucket of used water he had just thrown at you. The others always watched. They never said anything, never even did as much as wince at your treatment, and for that you found completely incapable of holding even just an ounce of respect towards any person of power there. You despised them all so much that it hurt; your entire body constantly ached from the need to yell yourself hoarse, yell your hot hatred towards them for hours on end. They were all the same and you craved to see them die from the most excruciating pain.

This was partly why you had known things wouldn’t go smoothly as soon as Rick had stepped into your cell. In his neatly ironed uniform and squaring up his shoulders behind Waller as if being the crooked woman’s shadow was the peak of his career, the man seemed to stand for everything you had grown to loath over these last years. You saw his eyes flicker from the ground to your bed, acknowledging the state of the cell as he took in the puddles and the dirty torn-up sheet. You saw a hint of worry etched over his features, barely perceptible under his mask of professionalism, and you had to keep yourself from laughing in his face for this ridiculous play-pretend, acting all offended on your account as if he didn’t know how things worked down here. His attention was brought back upon you when Waller made a quick presentation of who you were and what you were capable of, and his eyes barely had time to go over the collar tightly snapped around your neck before his glance was drawn to your dark stare, conveying as much disgust as you could towards him in one glare. If he was a bit taken aback by your hostility, he didn’t show it, and this neutral expression permanently stamped on his face only managed to aggravate you even further.

“Take off her collar. I believe she’s smart enough not to try anything.”

You only responded with a dark look, knowing there was nothing you could say back to this that would make you look good. Waller had a way of choosing her words carefully as to make her interlocutor feel inferior no matter what they tried to answer. Knowing there was no prospect of ending this discussion and feeling good about yourself, you stayed silent, doing your best not to flinch as another worker walked into the cell and approached you with a digital card. You did your best not to let any emotion seep through, however as soon as his hand got close to your neck you could not help but take the tiniest step back. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Flag shifting a bit, as if his first instinct was trying to push him into stepping in, however one pointed dark look sharply directed towards him quickly dissuaded the colonel from helping.

If he ever wanted to get even just a foot near you, he would have to wait for you to give out your last breath – given where you were currently going, he probably wouldn’t have to wait that long anyway.

---

“The people you are going to be attached at the hip to for the next few days are already in,” Rick Flag announced as you both marched up to the aircraft.

You cast an apprehensive look towards the small stepladder leading up to it which looked way too unsteady, rocked by the vibrations of the helicopter it was attached to. Just wanting to make sure you weren’t about to faceplant in front of the people you were probably about to die with, you took a second in front of the stepladder to readjust your heavy bag onto your shoulder, letting the colonel go in before you. Then, when you looked up again, the strap of your bag now firmly readjusted and perfectly balanced on your shoulder, your eyes landed upon a hand extended towards you. Your gaze traced back the arm until falling upon its owner’s face and you had to fight off the desire to harshly swat the hand away.

“Yeah, no,” you declined coldly, dismissively ignoring his offer as you stepped in alone, proud when you barely vacillated once your two feet were hauled onto the edge of the aircraft.

“Outburst! Didn’t expect to see you there,” Blackguard gushed as soon as you entered his vision. “I feel much safer now knowing that our enemies are gonna be crying before I shoot them.”

Instead of the bitter smile you usually would’ve given to anyone else, you let out a genuine chuckle, greeting him back with a friendly dig at his dyed hair. Rick watched with an incredulous look as you comfortably plopped down on the seat across from the blond man with a beaming smile, not minding the fact that your knees were touching despite the fact that you had just walked past the colonel while leaving as much space as possible between the two of you.

“Outburst?” a man from a few seats away asked – Captain Boomerang, if you recalled right.

“I didn’t choose the name.”

“No, like – what’s your thing?”

“She makes people cry,” Blackguard repeated with a shrug, filling in instead of you.

You pursed your lips and gave a brief half-shrug, finding yourself unexpectedly pleased with the reductive and quite honestly insulting description. It wasn’t like you hadn’t heard worst from Blackguard anyway, you had once met him during a transfer from one cell to another and the guards transporting you had been forced to leave you alone two minutes to break out a fight that had erupted in the men’s cafeteria – these two minutes had been largely enough for Blackguard to ask about the collar and make fun of your ability.

“So, are you happy to be going on a mission with me?”

Blackguard’s lips started to stretch into his usual lazy, wide grin, when a flicker of realization flashed in his eyes and his smile completely fell off his face in an instant. It was as if a switch had been flipped; his eyes flickered to the side, fleeing away from your steady eyes. He looked hesitant for a fleeting moment, but then before you could even start to wonder what this was all about, the bleach-haired man had regained his composure, dragging his attention back onto you with schooled features and mischief coloring his eyes to match yours.

“Oh yeah dude, I can't wait to see you make people laugh until they shit themselves.”

You instantly winced at the expression. “Please never talk about my ability again.”

“I won’t if you show me how to buckle myself in; this shit is confusing.”

Rick watched the scene from afar, quite disconcerted by what he was witnessing. You were currently interacting with one of the most – if not the most – disrespectful member of the squad and smiling at him as if he were a long-lost friend, whilst the colonel had been nothing but courteous to you and had earned in return nothing but cold glowers. It had been quite hard not to notice the way you had very noticeably bit your tongue in an attempt not to swear at him when he had done as much as welcome you to the team.

It hadn’t been much of a surprise when you hadn’t responded well to his small talk on your way to the aircraft either.

“Remember you’re not there to act as a casualty, the other members of the squad are there to protect you and you’re expected to do the same.”

“As long as I don’t have to protect you, I’m good.”

“Well, I am considered a living member of the team so you are expected to have my back.”

“Fantastic.”

He usually wouldn’t have tolerated this talk-back in any situation, but this equation was an entanglement of many factors that needed to be taken into consideration: first, none of you were in any shape or form even close to a soldier, secondly he had been warned by Waller that out of all recruits you would show the most behavioral issues, and finally, when he had walked into your cell, he had expected something entirely different from your frail figure refusing to maintain eye contact with Waller for more than ten seconds and backing up as much as possible like a wounded prey.

It had quickly become obvious to him that the behavioral issues came from fear and not defiance – there was therefore no point in scolding you. Doing as much as raising his voice at you would never play out in his favor, whether it was at the moment or later on the battle grounds. He did not know the extent of your abilities yet, but in a mission carried out by a team infamously labelled as the suicide squad, keeping the odds in his favor was a luxury he could not pass up on.

---

Turned out there was one thing his superior truly hadn’t exaggerated when he had assigned Rick to his first mission – if you’re relying on odds for the success of your mission, you might as well go on the battlefield with your eyes closed and your hands tied behind your back. This advice wasn’t a detail that slipped out of his mind nor something he particularly disagreed with – it was simply some words he had consciously chosen to ignore for his own peace of mind since it did not bode well for the team he was leading at all. After all, what was the Task X Force if not purely a matter of odds.

As he watched a shouting Blackguard walk onto the beach with his arms lifted up in the air, Rick couldn’t help but think he would’ve probably had more chances of survival lumbering up this beach with his eyes closed and hands tied than with the group of idiots he was accompanying.

“Blackguard get back into your position!”

You watched with wide, bewildered eyes as the bleach-haired man waded out the water and directly engaged onto the beach, his arms up in the air with all the innocence of a man who had just signed his teammates’ death warrant. While everyone else remained speechless as they witnessed the mission go awry barely minutes after it had begun, Flag had been quick to react, barking orders at the stone-deaf traitor who kept walking forward.

Blackguard showed no sign of slowing down and the fact that he wasn’t even acknowledging Rick’s words couldn’t help but make you wonder for a second if he was hearing him. With a low, focusing breath, you fixated your eyes on Blackguard and sent an anxious wave towards him, hoping to make him turn around and abandon whatever he had in mind. Frustration started to build at the pit of your stomach as you were forced to see him keep on walking on, not even looking like he had been affected by your attempt. You weren’t close enough.

Before you could try again, beams of light suddenly switched on at the edge of the rainforest, effectively outlining Blackguard’s silhouette and causing his steps to falter a bit. Despite the hesitation that seemed to overcome him, he still made no move to get back in position or at least duck to safety and one look towards Rick indicated you that no one was about to at least try to physically make him back down. Biting the inside of your cheek, you bounced on the balls of your feet from where you were squatting down behind a rock, mentally preparing yourself before suddenly jumping to your feet.

“Outburst!” you heard Rick bellow as you quickly scurried towards a rock closer to Blackguard, maintaining yourself as low as you could. Once in safety again, you started over, trying to focus as well as you could on your own emotions and muster up enough fear to send him a wave that’d stress him enough to finally back down. “Outburst, stand down!” a voice barked once again directly into your earpiece, jolting you out of your focus.

“Eat shit!” you bit back under your breath, too focused on the task at hand to lend him more than one ear and answer with more than two colorful words. You didn’t really expect your earpiece to pick up on the grumble anyway – you were wrong.

“Oh we can curse?? I didn’t know we could curse!” Harley whined from behind her rock, shooting an accusatory look towards Rick who was too busy trying to keep the team in line to pay attention to her complaint. “Flag!”

Your ears suddenly picked up on the sound of a chopper hovering above the beach and covering even more Blackguard’s words despite his voice getting louder with desperation. Now that you were hiding behind a rock way closer to the enemies than you’d like it to be, the surge of adrenaline rushing through your body was fierce and, as if pushed by anxiety alone, you found yourself jumping to your feet as you sent one last gush of panic towards Blackguard.

The relief when you saw him physically recoil at the sensation was short-lived, swept away by an excruciating pain that knocked you off your feet. As you landed into the sand, your hand automatically came up to brush against the patch of skin where the pain had erupted in, and you felt your stomach drop at the feeling of torn up tissue right below your chest. You could hear shouts coming from your earpiece but paid them no mind, knowing that they probably did not concern you anyway – it was the Task X Force after all, no matter what Flag had told you, there were bound to be casualties. You were just glad you had at least tried to help Blackguard. You hadn’t been like those soulless guards back at Belle Reve. You had done something; you had helped.

Those were the thoughts you held close to your heart as you felt your last thread of consciousness slip away from your fingers, the only thing you focused on as darkness seeped at the edges of your vision, and the last words that echoed through your mind as Blackguard’s faceless body collapsed right beside yours merely seconds before you passed out.

PART 2

[mcmansionhell]

Underground, Part 1

[Author’s Note: A year ago, when waiting for the DC Metro, I came up with an idea for a short story involving two realtors and the infamous Las Vegas Underground House, typed up an outline, and shoved it away in my documents where it sat neglected until this month. The house recently resurfaced on Twitter, and combined with almost a year of quarantine, the story quickly materialized. Though I rarely write fiction, I decided I’d give it a shot as a kind of novelty McMansion Hell post. I’ve peppered the story with photos from the house to break up the walls of text. Hopefully you find it entertaining. I look forward to returning next month with the second installment of this as well as our regularly scheduled McMansion content. Happy New Year!

Warning: there’s lots of swearing in this.]

Underground

Back in 1997, Mathieu Rino, the son of two Finnish mechanical engineers who may or may not have worked intimately with the US State Department, changed his name to Jay Renault in order to sell more houses. It worked wonders.

He gets out of the car, shuts the door harder than he should. Renault wrinkles his nose. It’s a miserable Las Vegas afternoon - a sizzling, dry heat pools in ripples above the asphalt. The desert is a place that is full of interesting and diverse forms of life, but Jay’s the kind of American who sees it all as empty square-footage. He frowns at the dirt dusting up his alligator-skin loafers but then remembers that every lot, after all, has potential. Renault wipes the sweat from his leathery face, slicks back his stringy blond hair and adjusts the aviators on the bridge of his nose. The Breitling diving watch crowding his wrist looks especially big in the afternoon glare. He glances at it.

“Shit,” he says. The door on the other side of the car closes, as though in response. 

If Jay Renault is the consummate rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xer trying to sell houses to other rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xers, then Robert Little is his millennial counterpart. Both are very good at their jobs. Robert adjusts his tie in the reflection of the Porsche window, purses his lips. He’s Vegas-showman attractive, with dark hair, a decent tan, and a too-bright smile - the kind of attractive that ruins marriages but makes for an excellent divorcee. Mildly sleazy.

“Help me with these platters, will you?” Renault gestures, popping the trunk. Robert does not want to sweat too much before an open house, but he obliges anyway. They’re both wearing suits. The heat is unbearable. A spread of charcuterie in one hand, Jay double-checks his pockets for the house keys, presses the button that locks his car. 

Both men sigh, and their eyes slowly trail up to the little stucco house sitting smack dab in the center of an enormous lot, a sea of gravel punctuated by a few sickly palms. The house has the distinct appearance of being made of cardboard, ticky-tacky, a show prop. Burnt orange awnings don its narrow windows, which somehow makes it look even more fake. 

“Here we go again,” Jay mutters, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He jiggles them until the splintered plywood door opens with a croak, revealing a dark and drab interior – dusty, even though the cleaners were here yesterday. Robert kicks the door shut with his foot behind him.

 “Christ,” he swears, eyes trailing over the terrible ecru sponge paint adorning the walls. “This shit is so bleak.”

The surface-level house is mostly empty. There’s nothing for them to see or attend to there, and so the men step through a narrow hallway at the end of which is an elevator. They could take the stairs, but don’t want to risk it with the platters. After all, they were quite expensive. Renault elbows the button and the doors part. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” he says as they step inside. The fluorescent lights above them buzz something awful. A cheery metal sign welcomes them to “Tex’s Hideaway.” Beneath it is an eldritch image of a cave, foreboding. Robert’s stomach’s in knots. Ever since the company assigned him to this property, he’s been terrified of it. He tells himself that the house is, in fact, creepy, that it is completely normal for him to be ill at ease. The elevator’s ding is harsh and mechanical. They step out. Jay flips a switch and the basement is flooded with eerie light. 

It’s famous, this house - The Las Vegas Underground House. The two realtors refer to it simply as “the bunker.” Built by an eccentric millionaire at the height of Cold War hysteria, it’s six-thousand square feet of paranoid, aspirational fantasy. The first thing anyone notices is the carpet – too-green, meant to resemble grass, sprawling out lawn-like, bookmarked by fake trees, each a front for a steel beam. Nothing can grow here. It imitates life, unable to sustain it. The leaves of the ficuses seem particularly plastic.

Bistro sets scatter the ‘yard’ (if one can call it that), and there’s plenty of outdoor activities – a parquet dance floor complete with pole and disco ball, a putt putt course, an outdoor grill made to look like it’s nestled in a rock, but in reality better resembles a baked potato. The pool and hot tub, both sculpted in concrete and fiberglass mimicking a natural rock formation, are less Playboy grotto and more Fred Flintstone. It’s a very seventies idea of fun.

Then, of course, there’s the house. That fucking house. 

A house built underground in 1978 was always meant to be a mansard – the mansard roof was a historical inevitability. The only other option was International Style modernism, but the millionaire and his wife were red-blooded anti-Communists. Hence, the mansard. Robert thinks the house looks like a fast-food restaurant. Jay thinks it looks like a lawn and tennis club he once attended as a child where he took badminton lessons from a swarthy Czech man named Jan. It’s drab and squat, made more open by big floor-to-ceiling windows nestled under fresh-looking cedar shingles. There’s no weather down here to shrivel them up.

“Shall we?” Jay drawls. The two make their way into the kitchen and set the platters down on the white tile countertop. Robert leans up against the island, careful of the oversized hood looming over the electric stovetop. He eyes the white cabinets, accented with Barbie pink trim. The matching linoleum floor squeaks under his Italian loafers. 

“I don’t understand why we bother doing this,” Robert complains. “Nobody’s seriously going to buy this shit, and the company’s out a hundred bucks for party platters.”

“It’s the same every time,” Renault agrees. “The only people who show up are Instagram kids and the crazies - you know, the same kind of freaks who’d pay money to see Chernobyl.” 

“Dark tourism, they call it.”

Jay checks his watch again. Being in here makes him nervous.

“Still an hour until open house,” he mutters. “I wish we could get drunk.”

Robert exhales deeply. He also wishes he could get drunk, but still, a job’s a job.

“I guess we should check to see if everything’s good to go.”

The men head into the living room. The beamed, slanted ceiling gives it a mid-century vibe, but the staging muddles the aura. Jay remembers making the call to the staging company. “Give us your spares,” he told them, “Whatever it is you’re not gonna miss. Nobody’ll ever buy this house anyway.” 

The result is eclectic – a mix of office furniture, neo-Tuscan McMansion garb, and stuffy waiting-room lamps, all scattered atop popcorn-butter shag carpeting. Hideous, Robert thinks. Then there’s the ‘entertaining’ room, which is a particular pain in the ass to them, because the carpet was so disgusting, they had to replace it with that fake wood floor just to be able to stand being in there for more than five minutes. There’s a heady stone fireplace on one wall, the kind they don’t make anymore, a hearth. Next to it, equally hedonistic, a full bar. Through some doors, a red-painted room with a pool table and paintings of girls in fedoras on the wall. It’s all so cheap, really. Jay pulls out a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket along with a pen. He ticks some boxes and moves on.

The dining room’s the worst to Robert. Somehow the ugly floral pattern on the curtains stretches up in bloomer-like into a frilly cornice, carried through to the wallpaper and the ceiling, inescapable, suffocating. It smells like mothballs and old fabric. The whole house smells like that. 

The master bedroom’s the most normal – if anything in this house could be called normal. Mismatched art and staging furniture crowd blank walls. When someone comes into a house, Jay told Robert all those years ago, they should be able to picture themselves living in it. That’s the goal of staging. 

There’s two more bedrooms. The men go through them quickly. The first isn’t so bad – claustrophobic, but acceptable – but the saccharine pink tuille wallpaper of the second gives Renault a sympathetic toothache. The pair return to the kitchen to wait.

Both men are itching to check their phones, but there’s no point – there’s no signal in here, none whatsoever. Renault, cynical to the core, thinks about marketing the house to the anti-5G people. It’s unsettlingly quiet. The two men have no choice but to entertain themselves the old-fashioned way, through small talk.

“It’s really fucked up, when you think about it,” Renault muses.

“What is?”

“The house, Bob.”

Robert hates being called Bob. He’s told Jay that hundreds of times, and yet…

“Yeah,” Robert mutters, annoyed.

“No, really. Like, imagine. You’re rich, you founded a major multinational company marketing hairbrushes to stay-at-home moms, and what do you decide to do with your money? Move to Vegas and build a fucking bunker. Like, imagine thinking the end of the world is just around the corner, forcing your poor wife to live there for ten, fifteen years, and then dying, a paranoid old man.” Renault finds the whole thing rather poetic. 

“The Russkies really got to poor ol’ Henderson, didn’t they?” Robert snickers.

“The wife’s more tragic if you ask me,” Renault drawls. “The second that batshit old coot died, she called a guy to build a front house on top of this one, since she already owned the lot. Poor woman probably hadn’t seen sunlight in God knows how long.”

“Surely they had to get groceries.”

Jay frowns. Robert has no sense of drama, he thinks. Bad trait for a realtor.

“Still,” he murmurs. “It’s sad.”

“I would have gotten a divorce, if I were her,” the younger man says, as though it were obvious. It’s Jay’s turn to laugh.

“I’ve had three of those, and trust me, it’s not as easy as you think.”

“You’re seeing some new girl now, aren’t you?” Robert doesn’t really care, he just knows Jay likes to talk about himself, and talking fills the time.  

“Yeah. Casino girl. Twenty-six.”

“And how old are you again?”

“None of your business.”

“Did you see the renderings I emailed to you?” Robert asks briskly, not wanting to discuss Jay’s sex life any further.

“What renderings?”

“Of this house, what it could look like.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jay has not seen the renderings.

“If it were rezoned,” Robert continues, feeling very smart, “It could be a tourist attraction - put a nice visitor’s center on the lot, make it sleek and modern. Sell trinkets. It’s a nice parcel, close to the Strip - some clever investor could make it into a Museum of Ice Cream-type thing, you know?”

“Museum of Ice Cream?”

“In New York. It’s, not, like, educational or anything. Really, it’s just a bunch of colorful rooms where kids come to take pictures of themselves.”

“Instagram,” Jay mutters. “You know, I just sold a penthouse the other week to an Instagram influencer. Takes pictures of herself on the beach to sell face cream or some shit. Eight-point-two million dollars.”

“Jesus,” Robert whistles. “Fat commission.”

“You’re telling me. My oldest daughter turns sixteen this year. She’s getting a Mazda for Christmas.”

“You ever see that show, My Super Sweet Sixteen? On MTV? Where rich kids got, like, rappers to perform at their birthday parties? Every time at the end, some guy would pull up in, like, an Escalade with a big pink bow on it and all the kids would scream.”

“Sounds stupid,” Jay says.

“It was stupid.”

It’s Robert’s turn to check his watch, a dainty gold Rolex.

“Fuck, still thirty minutes.”

“Time really does stand still in here, doesn’t it?” Jay remarks.

“We should have left the office a little later,” Robert complains. “The charcuterie is going to get –“

A deafening sound roars through the house and a violent, explosive tremor throws both men on the ground, shakes the walls and everything between them. The power’s out for a few seconds before there’s a flicker, and light fills the room again. Two backup generators, reads Jay’s description in the listing - an appeal to the prepper demographic, which trends higher in income than non-preppers. For a moment, the only things either are conscious of are the harsh flourescent lighting and the ringing in their ears. Time slows, everything seems muted and too bright. Robert rubs the side of his face, pulls back his hand and sees blood.

“Christ,” he chokes out. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Jay breathes, looking at his hands, trying to determine if he’s got a concussion. The results are inconclusive – everything’s slow and fuzzy, but after a moment, he thinks it might just be shock.

“It sounded like a fucking 747 just nosedived on top of us.” 

“Yeah, Jesus.” Jay’s still staring at his fingers in a daze. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Robert grumbles. Jay gives him a cursory examination.

“Nothing that needs stitches,” he reports bluntly. Robert’s relieved. His face sells a lot of houses to a lot of lonely women and a few lonely men. There’s a muffled whine, which the two men soon recognize as a throng of sirens. Both of them try to calm the panic rising in their chests, to no avail.

“Whatever the fuck happened,” Jay says, trying to make light of the situation, “At least we’re in here. The bunker.”

Fear forms in the whites of Robert’s eyes.

“What if we’re stuck in here,” he whispers, afraid to speak such a thing into the world. The fear spreads to his companion.

“Try the elevator,” Jay urges, and Robert gets up, wobbles a little as his head sorts itself out, and leaves. A moment later, Jay hears him swear a blue streak, and from the kitchen window, sees him standing before the closed metal doors, staring at his feet. His pulse racing, Renault jogs out to see for himself.

“It’s dead,” Robert murmurs. 

“Whatever happened,” Jay says cautiously, rubbing the back of his still-sore neck, “It must have been pretty bad. Like, I don’t think we should go up yet. Besides, surely the office knows we’re still down here.”

“Right, right,” the younger man breathes, trying to reassure himself.

“Let’s just wait it out. I’m sure everything’s fine.” The way Jay says it does not make Robert feel any better. 

“Okay,” the younger man grumbles. “I’m getting a fucking drink, though.”

“Yeah, Jesus. That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” Renault shoves his hands in his suit pocket to keep them from trembling.  

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Beauty | kth – Chapter 12

Pairing: Taehyung x OC (Reader) , slight Jimin x OC

Genre/Tags: Strangers to Lovers, Idiots to lovers (kinda), single dad; humor (-ish?), slow burn, angst, fluff, smut

Chapter Warnings: buckle up cause we're about to get to the angsty part of the story, implied sexual content

Word count: 10.9k

Series summary: Taehyung knows what beauty is. He sees it every day.

You feel like you haven’t seen real beauty in a while but you think you remember what it looked like.

Or maybe you both have no idea?

Previous Chapter / Chapter List / Next Chapter

Chapter 12

“Tae, I’m going to mess up our breakfast if you don’t leave me alone.“ You giggle, trying to elbow him into his stomach, so he will let you cook the eggs in peace, but he just won’t budge and instead keeps a tight grip on your waist.

“I don’t care.“ You hear him grunt. “Guess I could just eat something else then.“ He mumbles as he sneakily gives your butt a tight squeeze with one of his hands.

You gasp loudly, turning around to look at his shit-eating grin, and he is just quick enough to avoid the little smack you were aiming at his arm. “Are you crazy?! Stop it, you little pervert! Your daughter is playing somewhere around here.“ You hiss. He only laughs but finally withdraws and leaves you alone after that to quickly grab something to drink.

Really now, you're lucky enough that Hyejin hasn't mentioned last night's kiss again. However, she is a lot more affectionate, and you notice how she keeps an eye on you. Not in an evil way, but more like she is constantly waiting for something to happen.

You can only guess what it is she's waiting for.

“It’s remarkable how you can have so much energy after such a sleepless night.“ You yawn, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Those few hours of sleep you had last night did not do you any good. That much is clear. Unsurprisingly, that only lets his grin spread even wider, which undoubtedly results in you rolling your eyes at him.

As promised, Taehyung made sure that Hyejin didn't catch you in his bed this morning, but that also meant you had to get up earlier than you would have liked. And you undoubtedly don't deal as good with lack of sleep as Taehyung does, but you guess it makes sense, considering he's an actual father and therefore is probably used to that already.

“Good Morning! I’m home, I’m happy, and I brought Joon with me!“ A blatant and chirpy voice, followed by a loud bang from the front door, is what keeps you from throwing a witty remark at Taehyung.

You both turn your attention in the direction of the voice before two heads suddenly appear in the door frame. Namjoon and Jungkook both instantly smile at Taehyung before their eyes fall on you a moment after.

“Oh, ___. You’re here so early?“ Jungkook looks baffled for a second, but his attention is quickly diverted to the sizzling eggs in the pan behind you. “Goddammit, I love you, you wonderful woman!“ He grips your head with both of his hands and places a huge, sloppy kiss on your forehead.

“Eww, get away from me.“ You immediately push him off with a scoff and a grimace that shows you disgust while you wipe the wet spot from your forehead.

Jungkook only laughs as he roams around you to reach the pan, and when he does, he promptly tries to pick small pieces out of it. “But honestly, why are you here so early in the morning?“

You pause, gulping a little, but none of the boys actually seem to notice. “I have to take Hyejin to work with me in a bit.“ You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. You’re not lying after all, and it's not like you'd have a problem with them knowing anyway, but telling them the whole truth now sounds a little too messy for your liking.

Thankfully, Taehyung seems to agree as he only sends a wink and a smile your way. “How was work last night?“ You ask Jungkook, trying to change the subject as fast but also as unsuspiciously as you can. “Still sexting with that hot Boss-wife?“ You cannot help but chuckle, hearing Taehyung and Namjoon join in shortly after Jungkook lets out a loud annoyed groan.

“Yeah, yeah. Make fun of me, whatever.“ He rolls his eyes. “But to answer your question, I had a great time last night.“ He cajoles. “I swear, I think I finally found the perfect job for me.“

“That’s great! I’m really happy for you.“ You smile brightly while you bump your shoulder with his.

You see Jungkook smile shily for a second before Taehyung suddenly appears by your side again. “Me too. It's a soothing thought to no longer have to pay all the bills by myself.“ He chimes in, earning a testing look not only from his best friend but also from you.

"No, but honestly. We’re proud of you, Kook." Namjoon proposes, actually looking very pleased with him. And it warms your heart to see how Jungkook's eyes light up at his words. The older man, however, gets serious again soon after, looking between you and Taehyung. “Before we continue praising Jungkook to the skies, may I ask what happened with you guys and Jin yesterday? I mean, all of a sudden, he’s gone, and I have to learn that information from Jungkook?“ His stoic eyes look from you to Taehyung as he waits for an answer. “Seriously, do you even know how embarrassing it is to hear such important news from Jungkook?!"

You mask your smile when you hear Jungkook gasp offendedly. “What's that supposed to mean?"

“You know what that's supposed to mean, now shut up, I'm waiting for the tea.“ Namjoon uninterestedly shushes him, without tearing his gaze from you.

“He was disrespectful towards ___, so I kicked him out.“ Taehyung takes it upon himself to answer while he shrugs nonchalantly, still not looking bothered in the slightest.

You frown as you get back to stirring the eggs, shaking your head a little. “It really wasn’t that big of a deal. I could’ve handled it perfectly fine on my own without having to kick anyone out.“ You try to protest but get quickly interrupted by Jungkook making a disapproving sound.

“Nah, Tae told me what he said. That’s unacceptable.“ He strictly states, frowning at you. “In this house, we love and respect, ___. Right guys?“ He raises his fist in the air and looks resolutely at his friends, who chime in with their own chants of approval, making you snort out loud. Even Hyejin comes running into the kitchen with her new plastic sword, yelling something in approval before crushing into your leg and hugging you tightly.

“My heroes.“ You joke dreamily, earning a few chuckles here and there.

Approximately half an hour later, you all find yourselves at the table with your plates empty and your stomachs full. Jungkook is the only one who's still going strong, claiming he deserves to eat more than everybody else because he has worked the whole night and couldn't get any rest.

If only he knew that yours and Taehyung’s night wasn’t any less tiring.

Just thinking about it gives you chills, and the soreness in your lower regions won’t let you forget about what happened just a few hours prior. You can still feel his touch on you, feel him inside you. It's weird, kind of like you're having him imprinted on your body, and it makes you feel all sorts of things. Just good things, of course.

In all honesty, sleeping with Taehyung was not what you had planned for last night, at least not from the start. It definitely started off as an in-the-moment kind of thing, but it was probably the best outcome of that night you could've hoped for.

And still, after it happened and you had indeed slept with him, you couldn't deny the little voice in your head that kept saying you shouldn't have done it. You were sure that it would change something between the two of you, and you feared he could be coming to his senses in the morning and realize that last night was a mistake. Guys do and say a lot when they’re horny – you know as much, and you feared it could be the same with Taehyung.

But today, when you woke up to him already awake, stroking your arm with a soft smile on his face and looking all cute with his bed head and puffy eyes from the lack of sleep, you knew that you didn’t have to worry about that. Not with him.

“Why are you so energetic today?“ Jungkook’s muffled voice suddenly comes through your thoughts while his mouth is still stuffed with food. It takes you a little moment to realize that he isn’t talking to you but to the guy happily humming to himself while he piles your dirty dishes on top of each other.

“What is it with you always throwing questions my way whenever I’m in a good mood?“ Taehyung laughs, carrying your dirty plates to the kitchen.

Jungkook scoffs, cocking a brow at Taehyung's stupid question. “Because it rarely happens, and therefore it scares me whenever it does.“ He answers nonchalantly.

“I don’t want to say that I agree, but I kinda agree.“ Namjoon joins in, taking a sip from his tea right after. “You’re awfully easy to see through, Tae.“ He adds, earning a nod from Jungkook.

“Wha— I’m not!“ Taehyung chuckles, flipping his best friends off.

“You really are.“ You agree, making them all look at you. You see Taehyung raising a brow at you, but you simply shrug your shoulders as you feign innocence.

“See? When ___ says that it's true, then it's true. So tell us what it is that makes you so happy.“ Jungkook further insists.

Struggling hard to fight off the grin that's about to break out on his lips, Taehyung only shrugs. It's hard to stay composed and not let on when he's being poked from all sides. Especially when you're one of the people who are making fun of him, all while being the sole reason, he's in a good mood in the first place.

“Hmm, I don't know. Maybe I really should tell you.“ He teases, watching in amusement when you suddenly lose the smug grin on your face. He watches how you sit up in your chair, ready to say anything to keep him from spilling the beans when Namjoon suddenly gasps loudly and attracts all the attention.

“Before I forget!“ He exclaims, rummaging through his bag. “I bought cupcakes for us.“ Grinning happily, he places the little cardboard box on the table and opens it.

“Cupcakes for breakfast?" Jungkook asks, looking rather suspicious, but is nonetheless the first one to grab one for himself.

Namjoon only shrugs and distributes the remaining cupcakes to you, Taehyung and Hyejin before taking the last one for himself. "I just saw them on my way here and thought they looked delicious.“

“I don't trust this day.“ Jungkook frowns. “Tae is in a good mood, Namjoon randomly buys us cupcakes for breakfast... Two positive things are usually followed by something negative, right?“ He almost sounds like he is suffering from shortness of breath, big eyes turning on you. “So what's next? ___ telling us she'll move back to Busan?"

Even if he's fully aware that Jungkook is joking, Taehyung turns his head so fast, he almost gets whiplash from it.

“In your dreams, Jeon.“ You scoff, not even lifting your head when you take your first bite from your cupcake. You almost moan at the taste. Something this unhealthy and sweet is exactly what you need after the night you had.

“More like our worst nightmares.“ Taehyung mutters under his breath as you feel him stroll past you with slow steps. He makes sure to brush his hand over your back while he's at it, though, making you freeze under his touch.

Wow, really? Even a barely noticeable brush over your clothed back with his hand is enough to make you weak in the knees?

Taehyung doesn't even seem to notice, though, going straight to grabbing his phone and furiously typing away on it to whoever has just texted him.

Meanwhile, you happily continue to munch on your cupcake, and you don’t even care one bit that you probably look like a child with the cream spread all over your mouth. No, scratch that. If you were to turn your head a bit, you would see that even Hyejin shows more class than you right now.

“Damn, you could’ve just told me you haven’t eaten in weeks… I would’ve left you more of the eggs then.“ Jungkook snorts, earning a look from you as you try to wipe your mouth in embarrassment.

“Shut up, and leave her alone, idiot. It’s not like you’re a prime example when it comes to etiquette rules.“ Taehyung snaps but instantly smiles again when he sees there’s still some cream left on the space between your lower lip and the corner of your mouth.

Not thinking for just a span of a moment, he carelessly raises his thumb and wipes it off with a stupid grin on his face. And as if that wasn't enough already, you watch with big eyes as he brings his thumb to his lips right after and licks off the remains with a wink and a fond smile in your direction.

Without a care in the world, he sets his gaze back on his phone to reply to a text he just got from the other photographer that works for Mr. Han — Minho. He has just texted him how there’s supposedly a big shoot happening in the next few days where the both of them will be needed. If Taehyung wasn’t in such a good mood today, he’d definitely be pissed right now because that means he’ll have to work overtime way more than he already has.

The silence that, ironically, suddenly seems much too loud is what brings him out of his thoughts a little later, however, when a realization takes its place.

With his eyes as wide as possible, he slowly raises his head and looks (unsurprisingly) into two appalled pairs of eyes. Namjoon and Jungkook gape at the two of you, looking like they're about to faint, as you just stand there, rooted to the spot with an equal look on your face.

Letting a few more way too long seconds pass without saying anything, you finally clear your throat. “Oh, shoot!“ you break the silence with a distressed snort. “Just look at the time, guys.“ Your uncomfortable laughter rings through the whole room as you hastily start packing your bag. “I need to get to work. Hyejin, let’s go!“ With lightning speed, you grab the little girl’s hand, ignoring her protest about wanting to eat up. You quickly grab her little backpack and drag her to the door without as much as a goodbye.

The last thing you hear before you pull the door shut behind you is a bewildered “you guys are fucking and didn’t tell me?!“ unmistakably coming from Jungkook. With a loud snort and a wide grin on your face, you take Hyejin’s hand again and quickly make your way down the stairs.

The day at work seems three times longer than usual today. It may have something to do with the fact that you cannot wait to go home today. Knowing Taehyung will come over tonight to have dinner with you and Hyejin at your place to have your date, as you called it earlier, keeps you on edge.

You know that eating take-out in comfy clothes while a child is watching Disney movies not that far away from you can hardly be counted as a real date. At least for most people. But for you, it actually sounds close to a perfect evening. You’re daydreaming about it ever since you left his apartment earlier. And it ended more than once with Yoongi nagging you about not paying enough attention to what you are supposed to be doing here – which is work.

“So, it must’ve been worth it then.“ He again drags you out of your little phantasy. You look up, seeing him already looking at you with a knowing gaze. “I guessed there must’ve been a good reason you didn’t come home last night even though you promised you’d bring me my car back before it gets dark.“ He then adds, turning his head for a moment to watch how Hyejin carefully waters the peonies, with a smile on his face.

“Uh, yeah… sorry — uh, it was just that Taehyung came home fairly late and I had to—“

“Keep your bullshit excuses to yourself. You clearly got laid last night.“ He cuts in with a loud voice, wearing a shit-eating grin on his face. “And judging by how you seem like you’re on cloud nine ever since I’ve first seen you today, he probably gave it to you good, huh?“

A loud gasp escapes your lips, and you grip his arm tightly. “Shut up, are you insane?!“ You whisper-yell, quickly turning your head to the middle-aged lady, glaring at you both right as she’s about to leave the shop. “Have a wonderful day! I hope you’ll come back soon!“ You smile brightly, trying to act as if nothing happened, but there’s no way she hasn't heard what Yoongi just said to you.

He noticeably loves embarrassing you in front of other people. You can admit that you’ve gotten used to it over the months, but you would really appreciate it if he would at least hold back in front of potential customers.

“Do you mind?“ Giving him a look that’s once again supposed to tell him to shut up, you cross your arms in front of your chest, but he doesn’t even budge.

“Come on, give me details!“ He almost whines, following you hot on your heels as you try to get away from him. “If I can’t score myself, I at least deserve to experience it through you. As my friend, you owe me at least as much.“

“That’s the most disgusting thing you ever said to me. Leave me alone.“ You laugh, shoving him a little. “Just hearing you say these words grosses me out to an extent.“

Yoongi sighs with a roll of his eyes. “When did you get so lame?“

“When did you turn into Jungkook?“ You quip curtly.

“That kid’s an unusual one, I gotta admit. I don’t know if it’s good or bad yet, but I have to admit that I kinda like him.“

You only laugh, agreeing with him. “I can’t wait until you meet Hobi then. I’m sure you’ll like him too.“

“Who?“

“My best friend from Busan. I told you about him.“ You explain, trying to jog his memory. “He texted me the other day. Apparently, he’s going to come to Seoul and asked me if we could meet up.“ You may sound a bit too excited to see him again, but you can't help it.

You haven’t really had the chance to talk to him as much recently because he’s been working a lot. So it definitely came as a surprise to see him text you about his plans to visit you in Seoul all of a sudden. In any case, you jumped right on the idea since you really miss him a lot.

You even impulsively told him to stay at yours rather than waste money on a hotel or whatever. Coming to think of it now, you hope Taehyung won’t mind, but you’re sure he won’t have anything against it, especially when he meets him first. Of course, you have to talk to him about it first, if only out of respect, so you make a mental note to tell him soon.

Yoongi doesn't look very happy, though, “isn’t he close with what’s-his-face?“ He asks abruptly, making you groan out loud in annoyance.

“Don’t start now. I’m really not in the mood to have that conversation with you again.“ You skirt, not wanting to start a fight with him but already feeling the frustration bubble up.

“Jeez, sorry. I didn’t know you would get so defensive.“

“Yes, you knew I would get defensive because we have that discussion at least twice a week. You get annoyed whenever I bring Jimin up, but you can’t survive without dragging him whenever you get the chance to. Even if we haven't even talked about him in the first place.“ You hiss, shutting him up real quick. “Look, I just… You said I should forget about Jimin and just enjoy whatever is happening with Taehyung, remember?“

Yoongi only nods, letting his face not give away what he’s thinking right now.

“Okay, then please do me a favor and don’t constantly bring him up just to insult or make fun of him.“ You plead. You expect him to make fun of you for taking his jokes too seriously like he always does, but you’re surprised to see him actually look rather thoughtful. “I’m trying to listen to you for once and concentrate solely on Taehyung, and here you are, making it harder for me? Where’s the logic in that?“ You snort and shake your head in disbelieve.

Yoongi keeps his face straight as he looks at you. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. I’ll work on taking your feelings into consideration before I make fun of you or your weird ex-acquaintances in the future.“

“So insightful.“ You roll your eyes. “Thank you for your cooperation.“ The sarcasm in your voice can’t be ignored as you offer him a fake smile, supported by your middle finger. Yoongi only laughs out loud when he sees that you don’t actually take his incapability of holding a serious conversation to heart.

“No, but honestly. I’ll cut back on the mean comments, and I won’t bring him up anymore if it makes you feel better. I just have this strange urge to keep reminding you why you should never, under any circumstances, go back to him. Ever.“ He eventually apologizes while getting his point across.

“Well, thanks, I guess. But I really don’t think that's necessary.“ You tersely say back.

“You say that now, and yet, I was the one who had to comfort you for months on end because you, for a reason unknown to me, couldn’t let him go.“ Well, he does have a point there. You’ll give him that. And you appreciate him looking out for you, but it would be nice if he could do it with his mouth shut just every once in a while.

“Things are different now.“ You state.

There are quite a few things left that Yoongi wants to tell you about that, but he can see that you really aren't up for this talk anymore. So, he changes the subject for your sake only. “Right, they are. Which reminds me: You got dicked down last night. Tell me about it.“ You watch him put his arms on the counter and rest his head on the balls of his hands as he looks at you, fluttering his eyes mockingly as a teenage girl would do.

Making a disgusted face, you shake your head at him. “First of all, I did not get “dicked down“, and second of all, could you maybe keep your voice a little lower? I don’t want Hyejin to hear you.“

“I hope the poor girl didn’t have to hear you if you know what I mean.“ He winks, looking like he’s enjoying this way more than he probably should.

“You know what? I liked you a lot better when you were secretly taking naps in the back of the shop instead of getting on my nerves the whole shift.“ And with that, you simply leave him there and walk over to Hyejin, who currently seems to have found a new occupation in plucking flowers that definitely shouldn’t be plucked.

“Okay, hun, say goodbye to Yoongi, and then we go upstairs, alright?“ You brush your fingers through her hair to get it out of her face and quickly place a kiss on her head before sending her off to the annoying moron you call your best friend.

In retrospect, the day did go by rather quickly after you managed to take care of Hyejin's destruction. Furthermore, Taehyung kept texting you throughout the day, making it a thousand times easier for you to pass the time. It’s kind of pathetic how easily he gains his way into your head, totally messing with you without even knowing it. Or maybe he does know but simply enjoys fucking you up. Whatever it is, you dig it.

Hyejin returns a few minutes later with Yoongi in tow. She carries her little backpack, sporting a wide grin on her face which (or so you think) must have something to do with her tightly gripping Yoongi’s hand in her own tiny one.

“I’m leaving too.“ He says, noticing the questioning look you shoot his way. “It’s a slow day anyway, and I don’t wanna work here by myself for another hour.“

“Are you sure that’s okay? I mean, Mr. and Mrs. Yang probably don’t have fixed opening hours for fun.“

“No, it’s okay, trust me. I’ve done that before, and it’s only an hour anyway. Who cares?“ He turns off all the lights and locks the door before he turns back around and follows you upstairs.

“Some would say the shop owners care, but hey, what do I know." You say, not really giving it another thought. If he gets in trouble for it, you will at least have a good laugh.

When you reach your front door, he wishes you “a fun time“ with a naughty smirk on his face before he vanishes behind his own door, while you enter your apartment with a scoff. Obviously, nothing of that sort will happen tonight, not when Hyejin will be there with you two. And it’s not like you’d care. It’s the complete opposite, really. This will be a fun night for sure, just not in the way Yoongi imagines.

After getting rid of her shoes in no time at all, Hyejin runs down the small hallway into your living room, silently humming something to herself. You only shake your head at her overly-excited mood, but then again, you’re just happy she isn’t sulking over what happened at that birthday party anymore.

Just to be clear, the issue is definitely not solved yet, and as soon as you hear from that little boy’s mother again, you’ll definitely have something to say to her as well. You could still bite yourself in the ass for not standing up for Hyejin more than you did. You didn't know what actually went down in the hours before your arrival, but you should have insisted more on an honest answer from Hyejin. That way, you could've defended her the way she deserved. What's done is done now, though, and you may have to face them again, but for now, you won’t stress about that.

No, tonight you’ll just have a great time with Hyejin and Taehyung. Enjoy all your favorite food, watch some movies—

“There is a man sleeping on the couch.“

You barely register Hyejin’s small voice because she's talking so quietly, but her words still amuse you. That girl really has a weird sense of humor... but considering she grows up with three of the most chaotic people you've ever seen, it is understandable.

The second you turn around and look into her frightened face, though, the giggle gets stuck in your throat. Her face is as white as a sheet. Like she has just seen a ghost, telling you that whatever she just said was definitely not a joke. And it takes you another moment to realize that if that really wasn’t a joke, then she most likely just told the truth, meaning that there is indeed a man sleeping on your couch.

It can’t be Taehyung. For one, he doesn’t have a key, and Hyejin would definitely recognize him. He also texted you just fifteen minutes ago, informing you that he’s still at work but will leave in a bit. There’s no way he could be that fast. And once again, Hyejin would definitely recognize her own dad. So that only leaves one other option.

Someone broke into your apartment.

Just when you let that thought settle for a moment, you hear noises coming from the living room.

Your first instinct is to protect Hyejin, so you quickly instruct her to run to Yoongi’s apartment next door and tell him to call the police. To your utter frustration, though, all she does is shake her head as she grips your arm and looks at you with a determined look on her face.

“Don’t worry. Daddy and uncle Jungkook prepared me for this.“ She states, reaching for her little backpack and pulling out something gray, which you can't identify at first. It's not until she presses a button and it makes a loud hissing sound that you realize it's her lightsaber. Yes, the same glowing pile of plastic Yoongi recently got her for her birthday and that she carried around ever since.

Changing the color from blue to red with another button, she looks at you with a serious look in her eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you!“ And before you can grasp onto her or say anything, she’s already screaming bloody murder, running into the living room.

She's gone before you can react, but that's when you finally find your voice again. “What the actual shit?! Hyejin, come back right now!“ You can’t believe you just let that happen. You’ll never forgive yourself if anything happens to her. So without losing even a fraction of a second, you run after her.

You don't have the chance to see more than his silhouette as he quickly jumps up from the couch in fright before he is already hunched over, groaning in pain. Panting from your hectic movements, you try to get closer, grasp Hyejin, and lift her up into your arms to run away as fast as you can. But it’s really not that easy when she’s tossing and turning in your arms, desperately trying to land another hit to his body with full force.

“Leave us alone! My daddy will be here soon, and he will beat your ass!“ She screams, completely out of her mind. You don’t even know what to do – no one has ever prepared you for such a situation. At this point, are you trying to safe Hyejin from the intruder, or is it actually the other way around?

“Hyejin, stop it and go to Yoongi, I mean it!“ You try one last time, but unfortunately without success. She sticks to him like a leech, only increasing distance whenever she strikes out again.

As soon as he hears your voice, the intruder suddenly stills and starts calling your name, and that’s when you finally see him, like actually see him. His voice is the first thing you recognize – You would be able to hear it amongst thousands. But everything else just comes in one massive crash, as you realize that it's really him.

He's here, standing right in front of you, looking at you, calling your name. Here, in your apartment. Today. Right now. Him.

And truth be told, when you come to your senses, the image of Hyejin beating him up with a lightsaber turns oddly satisfying.

“Jimin?“ You breathe, ogling him with a look that’s hard to read.

Well, it’s not that hard to read, actually. It just consists of about a dozen different negative emotions that Jimin would rather not analyze right now.

You quickly grab the raging girl that finally stopped beating him up upon hearing you call him by his name and abruptly pull her behind you to block her from his view. Not that that would even be necessary because Jimin doesn't notice anything about his surroundings except you. Although he will probably wake up tomorrow with a few bruises, the little girl is the last thing that catches Jimin's eye right now.

“___...“ His voice matches yours, sounding so delicate as if he's afraid you could break into a thousand pieces if he does as much as talk a little louder than this. Eyes wide open, he watches the way your lips open and close, trying to form words that get stuck in your throat.

He feels the same way. A thousand different thoughts run through his head as he stands there just watching you, feeling how being in your presence alone is able to patch up whatever was left of his heart after you left him.

This is what love is. It's what love does to you, he thinks. It's pure hell when you're away from your significant other, but it is all the more exhilarating when you're with them.

Coming here unannounced was definitely risky, and he knows he undoubtedly crossed a line there, but being in this moment right now was worth the risk. It's worth everything that's about to come, and Jimin is sure that it will be a lot because he isn't dumb. He's selfish, yes, but he is not dumb. He can see that you aren't specifically happy to have him here, but he can't bring himself to care right now. Just having you in front of him, being in your presence for the first time in so long, is all he cares about.

You are absolutely stunning, just as beautiful as he remembers. Not that he expected anything else, but it's still comforting to see that you haven't changed at all. You look well-rested, you look healthy, probably the complete opposite from him, and it makes him incredibly happy. Seeing how you seem to be doing fine after all just takes a heavy weight off his shoulders.

It feels like hours pass when you look at him standing there right before you, in your living room.

Days, weeks, even months were spent imagining this moment in your head. The moment you would see him again.

You were sure you had thought of every possible scenario of how it will play out, but him just suddenly appearing in your apartment the night you’re supposed to have a somewhat date with somebody else definitely wasn’t on the list.

You spent hours crying over him, thinking about him, wishing he’d be here with you... but now that he is, you don’t feel relieved at all. You don’t feel happy either. All there is right now is stress, confusion, and overwhelmedness.

“W—What are you doing here?“ Your voice comes out much more shaky and quiet than you want it to, and it bothers you to no end.

In your imagination, you were always the one who came off as strong and careless while he was the one on his knees, begging you for forgiveness. That image you had of yourself obviously flew out the window the second you looked at him, and dozens of old feelings came up that you thought you had buried long ago.

“I uh… I needed to see you.“ He breathes out. It's small comfort to you that he seems at least as troubled and uncertain as you do. Everything would probably be even harder for you if he’d be his usual confident and chirpy self.

But something about his words bothers you. “So you just come here to Seoul and break into my apartment?“ You seethe, slowly escaping your little, quiet shell.

“To be fair, I didn’t break in.“ He chuckles awkwardly, ruffling his dark hair. “I used the spare key that you obviously still keep under your doormat, even if I told you at least a thousand times how dangerous that is, ___. Especially now that you live alone.“ He groans, “This time, it was just me, but what if it’s a burglar next time?“

“I think I’d prefer you to be a burglar right now, actually.“ As soon as your words leave your lips and you notice the expression on his face, you regret saying them. But then again — as Yoongi would say: You don’t owe him shit. “I don’t need your concern. I can take care of myself just fine.“

He presses his lips together in a tight-lipped smile and nods. “You’re right.“ Strangely enough, he agrees with you. “It looks like you have all the protection you need, huh?“ You watch as his face suddenly contorts into a cheeky grin as he looks at Hyejin and crouches down in front of her. “What’s your name, sweety?“

You must say, for a moment, you actually forgot about her still being here. And it just makes it even more awkward for you, knowing that she's witnessing all of this. It's not right that this is happening in front of her and seeing how she doesn't even give Jimin an answer but hides behind your leg instead is enough proof for you.

You rub her back soothingly and keep her close to you to make her feel safe as you hear yourself answer him for her. “Her name is Hyejin.“ you clear your throat, “I look after her.“ You don't even know why you tell him all of this. It's not like that's any of his business, and you're not supposed to be holding Smalltalk.

What you should be doing is make him leave... What's holding you back then?

Still crouched down in front of her, Jimin's smile grows bigger as he looks at how she hides behind your leg, “cute.“ he grins before he looks up at you again. “Suits you very well.“

You wonder what that means, but rapid knocks on your front door are what keep you from asking further questions. With a quick sign of your hand, you show Jimin that he should wait for a moment and walk with fast steps to the door, closely followed by Hyejin, who obviously doesn't want to stay alone with him.

You open the door and are greeted by no other than Yoongi. He’s still holding his fist high as if he was just about to knock again.

“What’s up?“

“Sorry, I really don’t want to disturb you. I know you’re busy tonight.“ You watch how he wiggles his eyebrows and chuckles lightly, but you aren’t really in the mood for stupid jokes.

You’re actually still on the brim of tears, and it takes a lot of self-control right now to not let him see that. “Look, the timing is really bad right now. What is it?“ At least you have your voice somewhat under control.

Yoongi doesn’t even need to watch closely to see how uncomfortable you are. And the fact that Hyejin doesn’t look any better rings a bell. “You two look like you’ve seen a ghost. Did something happen?“ Troubled by your appearance, he tries to look past you in your apartment, and he’s more than surprised when he sees someone he doesn’t recognize, look back at him.

Upon noticing that the guy at the door is looking at him, Jimin tries to muster a smile and waves a little awkwardly. He doesn’t get an answer, though, nor does the guy retort his friendly gesture.

“Yoongi, if you need anything, then spit it out. I kinda— don’t have time right now.“ You gulp.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, though. He’s still trying to find out what’s going on, glaring harshly at Jimin in the process. “Who is that?“ He curtly asks, sounding anything but nice.

“Hi, I’m Jimin.“ You wince in surprise when he suddenly appears next to you. Much closer than he should be. At the same time, Yoongi’s glare gets even harsher. His gaze shifts over to you for a mere second before he sets it on Jimin once again.

“That’s Jimin.“ You confirm, not daring to look at either of them. The floor has a pretty pattern, though. How come you never noticed before?

“Hey, can you do me a favor and watch Hyejin for a moment, please? Just go in your apartment with her while we… talk.“ Your proposition might sound a little odd, and you’re aware of that. But you just need Hyejin to be away for a few minutes just so you can finally let some emotions out. You don’t want her to see you crumble, and you don’t want her to hear what you have to tell him.

You wish it could be different, but the thing is, he’s here now. And you just have to face it whether you want to or not. He took that choice from you, the moment he decided to just come and find you without your permission.

“___, I don't think–“

“It's only for a couple of minutes, I swear.“ You quickly intervene before he can tell you that it's not a good idea. You know that it isn't, so you don't need Yoongi to remind you of that. But what else can you do, really? You don't want to cause a scene either, and you always knew this day would come someday anyway. You thought it would be different, but I guess you can't always choose these things.

Yoongi gives you a testing look before he sets his gaze on Jimin for a while, mustering him from head to toe. “I know what I'm doing.“ You quietly mutter to him so only he can hear you while you already push Hyejin further in his direction.

He sighs but doesn't say anything as he takes Hyejin's hand and slowly leads her across the floor to his apartment. He looks at you for one last time, but you already close the door shielding him from any possibility of trying to talk you out of it.

Yoongi has a very uneasy feeling about this in his stomach from the beginning, but what can he do? If the only way he can help you is to take care of Hyejin, then at least he will do that.

It's quiet after you sent Hyejin with Yoongi and closed your door.

Jimin is just standing there in front of you and never turns his eyes from you – not for one second. It's like he constantly fears you could vanish into thin air if he even does as much as blink. But no matter how insistently he looks at you, and no matter how much he seems to need to tell you something, every time he even breathes, not a single word ever leaves his lips.

“How did you know where I live?" You're the first one to speak up after the silence just got too much for you. You just want to get it over with, and that's the question that's burning on your tongue ever since you grasped the first thought after you saw him.

Your question makes him visibly even more nervous. You notice how he fiddles with his shirt and can't stand still all of a sudden, and your mind wanders to the first answer that jumps into your head.

There's only one way how he could've found out.

A non-humorous laugh comes out of your mouth when you come to think of it. “I'm such an idiot.“ Shaking your head, you try to blink away the tears that start to come up again.

“___, please–“

“You certainly aren't dumb, Jimin. I have to give you that.“ You gulp, feeling betrayed.

He swallows thickly, no longer having the balls to look you in the eyes. “He doesn't know about it.“ He mutters. “I used his phone to text you, but he has no idea that I did it. I promise you that. So please don't be mad at him.“

“I can't believe you did that, Jimin.“ You scoff loudly without looking at him. “I can't–“

“Well, I had to!" He exclaims, looking at you with wide eyes. “Eight months, ___. Eight fucking months and not a single word from you. What was I supposed to do in your book, huh?"

“Nothing, Jimin!“ You yell back, finally getting the chance to let some steam off. “You were supposed to do absolutely nothing about it!"

He only scoffs and shoots you a glare. “Well, how did you expect me to do that?“ His voice comes out rather helplessly with a slight crack, and you see him losing his composure for just a span of a second before he regains it and clears his throat. “How do you expect me to just move on without you?"

You look at him for a moment without saying anything in return. “Well, you have too,“ you choke, wiping a few tears away that finally came out after you managed to hold them in for so long. “We're not together anymore, in case you forgot.“

“But we could be again.“ He gushes, eyes lightening up immediately as he carefully comes closer to you. “We could start all over and just be us again, ___. It doesn't have to be like this.“

You dreamed of this. God, you dreamed of this so many times, you can't even count it anymore. But things have changed. So much has changed since then. And hearing him say this now just feels... wrong.

“Jimin–“

“I love you.“ Like a pistol shot, these words leave his mouth as he grabs both of your hands and drags you closer to his body. You don't look at him, though, having your eyes focused on the floor. “It's okay if you need time, ___. I promise you, I'll give you all the time you need, just please don't completely shut me out again.“ He says firmly. “I just want you to know that I love you and that I'll do everything to make you forgive me. I will never ever hurt you again, ___, I swear.“

He's waiting for an answer, patiently stroking the back of your hands with his thumbs while he looks at you with tears in his eyes. But you don't know what to say. You don't even know what to feel. All you know is that all of this is too much right now.

“I have to use the bathroom.“

Acting fast, you withdraw your hands from his and take a step back to gain distance between the two of you. And after you take one last look at him and see the hurt look on his face, you take off to your destination, harshly close the door, and start to cry.

It took Taehyung longer than anticipated to get rid of Namjoon and especially Jungkook after they found out the truth about you and him. He still can't believe that you just left him to deal with them alone, but he's sure he can find a way to get back at you for that when the time is right.

Revenge is sweet, and Taehyung loves revenge. Jungkook would know.

Nevertheless, he really missed you today. It was hard enough to concentrate on work the week after you shared your first kiss, but after what happened last night – well, let’s say he had a really long day.

Quickly parking his car in front of the flower shop, he grabs the bags that are holding your dinner and happily jumps out of it. He knows it‘s not a fancy dinner, definitely not every woman's dream, but he just hopes it will do for tonight. As soon as he has the time and someone to watch over Hyejin, he will offer you the best date you‘ve ever been on. That‘s a promise.

With fast steps, he speeds up the stairs, coming to a halt at your door. He knocks once, and then again when nobody answers immediately.

Wearing a stupid grin on his face, he happily jumps from one leg to the other but then quickly decides to rather play it cool. That's why he leisurely leans against your doorframe with a lazy smirk on his face soon after because he loves the way you flush whenever he looks at you like that.

But his cool-facade is immediately going down the drain when somebody that isn‘t you opens the door and looks at him with a questioning look on his face.

“Uhm… can I help you?“ the guy standing before him asks, looking him up and down.

Taehyung leans slightly back to look at the name tag hanging on the wall next to your door. Nope, he‘s definitely right. It‘s your door, not Yoongi‘s. So… who is this?

“Uh… sorry. Who are you?“ wearing a deep frown on his face, Taehyung looks back at the guy, mustering him from head to toe just like he did with him a few seconds prior. “And where is ___?"

The guy pauses for a while but suddenly breaks into a small laugh as his eyes widen. “Oooh, wait, are you here to pick the little girl up? Uuuh—“

“Hyejin.“ Taehyung grunts. “My daughter.“ Who is this guy? Why is he in your apartment, and why is he acting like he lives here?

“Right, ___ said something about that. I'm so sorry if I came off as rude.“ Taehyung watches in awe as the guy reaches out his hand and smiles brightly at him. “It's just been a very busy day, but ___'s friends are my friends. I'm Jimin.“

Upon hearing his name, Taehyung feels like his heart stops for a moment, and someone punched him in the throat. Did he just hear right? “E-Excuse me?" he stutters.

“Park Jimin.“ He repeats, cocking a brow.

It seems like literal hours before Taehyug stops gaping at him and clears his throat. “Kim Taehyung.“ He reluctantly shakes his hand, withdrawing it as soon as he can before he curiously tries to look behind Jimin. “Where is ___?" he then asks him once again.

He can't even think straight. There's just way too much going on right now. Just a couple of minutes ago, he was ready to spend the evening with you and his daughter, and now, he's standing in front of your ex-boyfriend whom you haven't talked to in months and who just opened your door, acts like he's doing it all the time and like everything is cool between the two of you and who isn't even remotely as ugly as he always liked to imagine! What the fuck!

Jimin chuckles again, scratching his head a little in embarrassment. “Right, sorry. She went to the bathroom. But Hyejin isn't here anyway.“

Upon hearing him say that, Taehyung feels like he's about to completely lose it. “What? What do you mean she isn't here? Where is she?"

“___ told that guy who lives next door to look after her while we–“

Taehyung doesn't even let him finish before he interrupts him with a loud scoff. “She just dumped her onto Yoongi?!"

Taken aback by Taehyung's sudden change of tone, Jimin gapes at him. “I mean, I wouldn't phrase it like that, but–“ once again, Jimin doesn't get the chance to finish what he wants to say. Taehyung quickly pushes the bags that contain your food into his hands with such force Jimin even stumbles back a little.

“Tell her to give me a call. That is if she even finds the time to.“ he clips at Jimin before he abruptly closes the door in his face and walks across the floor to Yoongi's apartment.

Knocking on it furiously, he waits for Yoongi to open the door, and he thankfully doesn't take long. He already has a concerned frown on his face, but it only turns even more worried when he sees Taehyung standing there instead of you.

“Taehyung.“

“Where's Hyejin?" Taehyung doesn't even wait for Yoongi to invite him in before he already walks around him and looks for his daughter. He finds her cuddled up into a blanket in front of Yoongi's tv, giggling to Spongebob.

He masks a small smile on his face as he walks over to her. “Hey, little Mochi. Are you having a good time with Yoongi?" Kissing the top of her head, he gives her a big hug.

“Yes, we're watching Spongebob!" She grins brightly.

“I didn't really know what to do with her. I'm not great with kids, but I hope that's okay.“ Yoongi quickly adds, rubbing his hands together in a timid manner.

Taehyung finally looks at him, seeing how the older guy looks somewhat nervous. He's never seen him anything but grumpy or annoyed, so this is definitely new.

“Given the circumstances, that's perfectly fine, Yoongi. Thank you very much for looking after her.“ he sounds way more pissed than he intends to, but who can blame him? All he wanted was to spend time with you, and now all that shit is going down.

He just can't believe how smug and arrogant this Jimin is acting. As if nothing had ever happened. As if he had simply come along, and suddenly everything is as it was before.

Or could that be true? Would you do that?

After everything that's happened in the last few weeks, would you still take him back? Would you choose him over Taehyung?

Taehyung tries to get these thoughts out of his head. Just don't jump to conclusions, Tae. But it's easier said than done. He has always feared for this day to come and now that it's here, he just feels absolutely lost. Knowing you're with him, doing who knows what... listening to whatever he needs to say for you to go back to him... And he can't do anything about it.

You're going to leave. He just knows you will.

The only thing that keeps him from punching a hole into Yoongi's tv is his daughter, who now starts to look around with a frown on her face. “Where's ___?"

Although he already expected this question from her sooner or later, Taehyung's mood instantly drops even more at that. “She's... otherwise occupied right now,“ he tells her, cringing at his own words. “It's a change of plans tonight. We're going home now.“

Upon hearing what he just said, Yoongi clears his throat. “Taehyung, you don't have to. You guys can stay with me until she–“

“Until she's done with him?" Taehyung knows he sounds way harsher than he should right now, considering he's so. fucking. mad. But it's not his intention to let his anger and frustration out on Yoongi. “I'm sorry.“ He sighs, grabbing Hyejin's hand and pushing his hair back with his other. “It's just... I had planned for this night to turn out a little differently.“

“I know. And she has too, believe me.“ Yoongi sighs, “I'm sure she'll come knocking at the door any minute now.“

Thinking about Yoongi's proposal for a moment, he sighs. “Hyejin, go watch the rest of the episode, okay? I need to talk to Yoongi real quick.“

Luckily, she doesn't even say anything before she happily jumps back under the blanket, making herself comfortable.

“I honestly don't think she's up to our dinner plans anymore.“ He then says, lowering his voice just a little because he doesn't want Hyejin to overhear.

“Why do you think that? What did she say?"

“Well, she didn't say anything because I didn't have the pleasure to see her.“ Taehyung feigns a smile, watching the way Yoongi cocks a brow in question. “He opened the door as if he fucking lives there, acting like her fucking boyfriend or something. I don't know what they're doing in there, but he definitely didn't seem like she told him to fuck off.“

“Okay, well, I don't know what that's about, but I really think you should stay. She seemed overly stressed and looked like she was about to cry when I knocked at her door.“ He says.

Taehyung feels like someone stabbed him into his heart. He feels like an ass for reacting this way, but he also doesn't think he can stay. He's way too worked up, and he knows he will let it out on you. He really doesn't want that to happen. He'll probably just say something he'll regret later, so he thinks it's better to leave, cool down, and then wait for your call instead.

“I'm sorry, but I can't stay, Yoongi.“ He sighs. “I can't wait around for her to tell me what she's going to tell me.“

“You don't even know what she's going to say. Please don't jump to conclusions without having talked to her. At least hear her out first. She deserves as much.“

“I will. Just not tonight.“ Taehyung grunts, calling for Hyejin once again. She comes running back to his side immediately, curiously looking up at her father.

“Are we going to ___ now?" She asks him, already sensing that something isn't right.

“No. We're going home.“ He says curtly as he grabs her jacket and puts it on her. He can see from the corner of his eyes that Yoongi isn't pleased with him at all, but he can't really worry about him now too.

He opens the door, but before he leaves, he turns back around once more to look at your neighbor. “I told him to tell her that she should call me, but just in case he doesn't pass the message on to her...“

Yoongi nods approvingly, patting the younger guy's back to comfort him. “Got you.“

“Thanks.“ Taehyug smiles slightly. “For everything, I mean. I might even consider asking you to babysit more often from now on.“ He jokes, trying to lighten the mood a little, but he still can't stop himself from squinting at your door, which still remains closed, and no sound can be heard from the other side.

“I'll do it, as long as it's to create some time alone for you and ___.“ He hears the older guy say. A breathless laugh escapes Taehyung's lips at that as he shakes his head.

Walking down the stairs with Hyejin by his side, he only mumbles an almost-whispered “hopefully,“ Yoongi can't hear it, but that wasn't Taehyung's intention anyway.

As he's strutting down the stairs with his shoulders slumped, he suddenly feels Hyejin tugging on his hand and tries to mask a smile before he turns his head to her.

She pouts, looking very unhappy herself. “Don't worry, daddy.“ she tries to comfort him, patting his arm a little, “I hit him with my sword as hard as I could.“ Offering her dad her best gummy smile, she actually manages to make him laugh at that.

He shakes his head with a grin on his face as he embraces her in a big hug. “See, this is why you're my favorite.“ He winks at her.

With a giggle, she then climbs into her car seat so Taehyung can buckle her up, and he gets it done quickly, moving over to his side of the car. He opens his door, but before he gets in, he takes one last look up to your window. The light is on, but that's all he can see. With a heavy heart, he finally gets himself to drive off.

After trying to calm yourself down in the bathroom for way longer than you had planned, you finally dare to come out and face Jimin again.

To be honest, you were actually hoping that by now, he has moved on and is no longer around, but you know him well enough to know that's not the case.

Still, you're very surprised when you see him sitting comfortably at your table, eating food that definitely hasn't been there before.

When he hears you enter the room again, he looks up and smiles brightly at you. It's that smile that nearly makes his eyes disappear, and you hate the way it almost makes you smile back at him.

No, you can't do that. You have to stay strong, ___.

“Hey, is everything alright?" He asks you, keeping his voice down.

The way he suddenly starts squirming in his seat shows you how much he has to restrain himself from coming over to you, but he doesn't. He actually tries to give you as much space as the sudden circumstances allow, and you're thankful for that. But you still wish he wouldn't have put you in this situation in the first place.

Clearing your throat, you nod your head and take a few steps closer to him. “I guess. This is all just... too much.“

“I know.“ He sighs. “Please try to understand me, though.“

You don't answer him, and he notices how your eyes desperately try to not meet his. He hates it. He hates how things have changed between you. It has never been this awkward between you two. Sure, you would fight from time to time, but it never got to this point before. And he's so fucking scared.

He doesn't know how to fix this.

“Are you hungry?" Suddenly changing the subject, he makes a gesture with his hand to show you all the delicious-looking and smelling foods he has spread out on your table.

Although you noticed it casually before, you are only now really starting to think about it. Where the hell did he get all that food? “Wait, where did you get all this from?"

Jimin combs through his hair as he pouts. “Uh, this guy who came knocking at your door while you were in the bathroom. He put these bags in my hand, slammed the door in my face, and then took off again.“ He says, shrugging his shoulders carelessly. “Not to be biased, but the people here in Seoul seem to be very rude.“ He scoffs.

You only gape at him, trying to grasp at what he just said. And after you let it all sink in, you can practically feel the way your face turns into a grimace. “Jimin, are you fucking kidding me?!" You screech. “This food was not meant for you. You can't be serious!“

With his mouth still filled with the food that was originally meant for your date with someone else tonight, Jimin looks at you with innocent-looking eyes. “What? He gave it to me.“

“Just–“ You groan out of frustration. “Where is he?!"

“I told you already. He was rude, and then he just left.“ he argues, “Asked where his daughter was, and then probably went to pick her up or something, is it important? I mean, I told him everything he needed to know.“ He looks genuinely confused as he looks at you with those big eyes of his.

“Or wait, fuck.“ he facepalms. “He hasn't paid you yet. Is that it?"

Laughing unhumorously, you massage your temples. You can definitely feel a migraine coming up. “Jimin, this is... You can't do this.“ You sigh.

“Do what?“ He asks with his voice so quiet, you can barely hear him.

“All of this!" You exclaim, growing more frustrated with him with each passing second. “You can't come to Seoul all of a sudden, break into my apartment, and just make yourself at home here! We are not a couple anymore!“

Breathing heavily with tears in your eyes, you simply look at him for a while. None of you saying anything at all.

Massaging your temples once more to ease the growing pain, you blink away your tears and sigh again. “Look, I don't think I can do this tonight. I'm sorry. I just really need to be alone right now.“

“___, just–“

“We're going to talk tomorrow, okay?" You interrupt him, silently begging him with your eyes without wanting to actually beg. “I promise I'm going to be here. I'm guessing you already have my number, so that shouldn't be a problem. Just please leave me alone for now. I need to think.“

You're so relieved when he just silently nods his head in agreement, smiling sadly at the floor. “Okay. I'll leave you alone if that's what you want.“ He mutters.

“Yes, thank you.“ You accompany him to the door and open it for him while he puts on his jacket and shoes. You wonder when he actually took them off and how you didn't notice them when you came in, but in the end, it doesn't matter. It wouldn't have changed the current situation anyway.

Before he leaves, he turns to you one more time, “before I forget, that guy uh... Taehyung?" He looks at you with a questioning frown, which disappears when you nod your head, “he said he wants you to call him.“

You internally gulp at this new information. You can only guess that Taehyung isn't happy. He has every right to be mad at you, but just the thought of talking to him while he's mad is dreadful. “Alright, thank you for telling me.“

Jimin forms somewhat of a smile on his lips and juts his chin in your direction. “Goodnight, ___.“

“Goodnight, Jimin.“ You breathe.

The moment you close your door and are alone is when you finally feel like you can breathe again.

What a fucking mess this is.

Seeing what was supposed to be your dinner date with Taehyung still spread out on your table, you feel like crying all over again. But instead, you clean everything up as best as you can, take a long and hot shower, and go to bed.

You don't call Taehyung that night.

tag list: @nandananda | @blackswan18 | @travelleratheart101 | @likeshatteredrainbowglass | @lilianm3 | @jenotation | @so-da-1 | @soeur-de-ame | @theclawofaraven

[pocket-luv101]

Summary: Kuro and Mahiru live in a sharehouse. One day, Mahiru sees Kuro struggling to cook at midnight. (KuroMahi, Human AU)

When Kuro moved to Japan, he thought living in a sharehouse would help him save money. He didn’t mind the small rooms because he didn’t need much. He would compare it to living in a dormitory with better accommodations. He also had seven siblings so he didn’t mind sharing a living space with a lot of people. However, moving from London to Tokyo was still a large change. Kuro hoped he could adjust to his new home soon.

Between the different time zones and how Kuro would already stay up late playing video games, he couldn’t sleep. He went to the shared kitchen to make himself a midnight meal. Kuro opened the cupboard assigned to him and he found that there was only a single ramen cup left. If he ate one tonight, he wouldn’t have anything to eat in the morning. He wasn’t a good cook so he relied on pre-made food.

“Can’t deal,” Kuro muttered to himself. He leaned against the counter and he scrolled through his phone to search for a place he could order food. Most restaurants wouldn’t deliver at such a late hour and he debated calling his friend for help. He could already hear Gear yelling at him for calling him even as he walked to the sharehouse. He would rather not bother him in the middle of the night.

Kuro didn’t feel like walking to the convenience store though. He decided to buy a frozen meal from the vending machine in the corner of the kitchen. He chose the simplest meal and he slipped the bill into the slot.

He carried the box back to the stove and he pulled out a pan from the cupboard. Kuro followed the pictures on the back and the few words he could make out. He placed the burger on the pan and he watched it sizzle on the oil. Hopefully, that meant that it was cooking quickly and he could eat soon. He turned away from the pan and he placed hamburger buns into the toaster.

The smell of smoke caught his attention and he turned back to the stove. His stomach turned the moment he saw a small flame growing from beneath the meat. Kuro remembered that he couldn’t use water to put out the fire so he grabbed a wet cloth. He lightly slapped the cloth over the fire to put it out but that only seemed to fan the flame further. He let out a panicked curse and he searched for a fire extinguisher.

“Get away from the fire!” A person ordered and he stepped between Kuro and the stove. He didn’t appear to be shaken by the fire and he calmly placed a lid over the pan. Then, he turned off the gas and he carefully watched the flames through the glass until it dwindled. The fire died after a few minutes yet he didn’t take the lid off the pan. The brunette sank to his knee with relief when the danger was finally gone. He felt tired after the adrenaline had left his body.

“Are you okay?” Kuro asked and knelt next to him. He was so surprised by the brunette’s sudden appearance and how composed he was when he put out the fire. He lightly rubbed his back and the brunette turned to him. His brown eyes were surprisingly soft and they made him appear vulnerable even though he was the one to save him from the fire.

“What were you thinking starting a fire in the kitchen?” He yelled and Kuro was taken aback for a moment. Mahiru stood and he lifted the lid from the pan and he saw the charred remains of the burger. In the corner of his eyes, he saw the frozen food box. “It would’ve been better if you cooked this in the oven because it’s simpler.”

“The instructions were a little hard to understand and I didn’t know how long I should wait for it to defrost.” Kuro explained and Mahiru could hear a slight English accent. “I’m not a good cook but I thought I could see when it was fully cooked.”

His expression turned guilty and bashful and it made Mahiru soften. Mahiru scraped off the meat into the garbage and then he placed the pan into the sink. He moved to the fridge and he pulled out several ingredients. He looked over his shoulder to Kuro and said, “My name is Mahiru. I don’t know why you’re eating dinner so late but I’ll make you omurice. Can you get another pan from the cupboard?”

“Sure. I’m Kuro.” He introduced himself and he handed a pan to him. Kuro watched him chop chicken with practised motions and it was clear that he was skilled. Within minutes, a pleasant smell filled the kitchen. Kuro’s stomach cried out for the food and the sound made Mahiru chuckle lightly. His warm voice now contrasted how he lectured him for the fire earlier.

“It looks like I saved the building from burning down and your stomach from turning into a monster. I’m glad that I came down for a glass of water and found you.” Mahiru said. He watched Kuro in the corner of his eyes while he cooked. “I know most of the residents in the sharehouse but I haven’t seen you here before. Did you move in recently?”

“I moved to Japan last week. Since I’m not much for crowds and small talk, I don’t eat in the lounge or kitchen. I usually stay in my room.” Kuro appreciated that Mahiru offered to cook a meal for him but he didn’t know how he could repay him. “People have a different sense of community here than my hometown. There aren’t any locks on the storage boxes for each person. You just trust that someone won’t take your things?”

“Really? I’ve never travelled outside of Japan so I’m interested to hear more about Europe. My uncle travelled and he would bring me back souvenirs.” Mahiru said as he plated the omurice. Something in his words caught Kuro’s attention and he wondered why Mahiru mentioned his uncle rather than his parents. He couldn’t ask him before Mahiru held out the plate to him. “Time to eat. I think that’s what you say in Europe but I don’t remember much English from high school.”

“Time to eat.” He nodded and repeated his words in English. Mahiru smiled proudly and the way his eyes beamed in the dimly lit kitchen drew Kuro to him more. “Thanks for making me rice, Mahiru. I’ll talk to the landlord about the burnt pan and pay for the new one. It’s late so you can go back to bed and I’ll deal with the dishes. I can’t cook but I can handle washing the dishes.”

“I actually made two omurice. Would you mind if I sit with you and talk? I’d love to hear more about Europe and what made you want to move halfway around the world.” Mahiru asked and there was a hint of loneliness and longing in his brown eyes. Kuro found it difficult to say no to him after he saw that. He shrugged as a silent agreement and then he picked up the two plates.

“I’ll carry these for you.” Kuro offered and he walked to the large table across the room. They sat across from each other and he noticed that Mahiru didn’t begin to eat immediately. His brown eyes watched him eagerly. When their eyes met and he was caught staring, Mahiru turned away from him with a blush. The way he wore his heart on his sleeve was endearing. He smiled at him and said, “Itadakimasu.”

Kuro took a bite of the omelette and his eyes widened. He was surprised by how simple the flavours were while also tasting comforting and fluffy at the same time. He quickly took another bite and said: “This is delicious, Mahiru! I can’t believe you made this in just twenty minutes. Are you a cook?”

“I’m a florist but people can have more than one interests. Growing up, I had a lot of time to learn recipes and I’m proud of my curry in particular. Maybe I can cook that for you the next time you want a midnight snack. I decided to move into a sharehouse so I would be able to share my food with anyone passing through the kitchen. So far, you’re the first one to let me cook for them.” Mahiru said with a sad smile. He quickly changed the topic. “What do you do for work, Kuro? Is it why you moved to Japan?”

“Well, I first came to Japan for my friend’s wedding. Gear decided to stay here with Youtarou and he found a job as a researcher. He needed an assistant who knows both Japanese and English so he asked if I would stay. He was having trouble finding someone so I agreed.” Kuro shrugged. “Sometimes, I worry about my siblings back in London even though they’re all adults now.”

“It’s only natural for a family to worry about each other. My uncle still calls me and reminds me to eat on time.” Mahiru told him and they both laughed. “I’m an only child and I’ve always wanted siblings. Are you the oldest or youngest of your siblings?”

“The oldest. If you want a sibling, I have seven so you can take one.”

“Seven?” Mahiru gasped and he almost choked. He quickly drank a glass of water and then he patted his chest. Then, he felt a napkin on his cheek and Kuro wiped rice from the corner of his lips. “Thanks, Kuro. I never imagined that you had so many siblings.”

“Don’t worry, most people have the same reaction when I tell them how big my family is.” Kuro said with an easy smile that made Mahiru’s heart quicken. He was glad that he wasn’t offended by how shocked he was. They fell back into a casual conversation and Mahiru didn’t expect to get along with Kuro so well.

Kuro finished eating and his plate was clean of any crumbs. On one hand, Mahiru was happy that he enjoyed his cooking so much. Another part of him was disappointed that their conversation was over. He reached across the table to take his plate but Kuro stopped him. He picked up his plate and stood. “I said that I would wash the dishes for you after saving me. Do you want to meet tomorrow night and have a midnight snack?”

“It would be a pleasure, good Sir.” Mahiru mimicked the English movies he watched with his friend.

“I should call Hyde and make sure they haven’t burned down the house while I’m gone.” Kuro muttered to himself as he soaked in the warm tub. He knew the worry was ironic when he almost burned down the house himself. He tilted his head back against the cool tile and he thought of everything he needed to tell his siblings. Mahiru’s large, brown eyes appeared in his mind. They would meet each night and talk until the late hour forced them to go to sleep.

He began to imagine Mahiru smiling across from him and telling him about his day. Kuro quickly splashed water onto his face. His thoughts would often wander to Mahiru over the past few weeks and he groaned at himself. Why was he acting like a teenager with a crush? He wasn’t able to answer his own question and he thought it was best to go back to his room.

He stepped out of the shower and he dried himself with the towel hanging nearby. Most of the facilities in the building were a shared space for all of the residents but the bathroom was empty that night. He walked out of the shower with only a towel around his waist thinking that he was alone. He stood in front of the mirror and he rubbed his hair dry.

Kuro heard the door open behind him and Mahiru walked into the shower room. He turned around and their eyes met. At first, he didn’t know what to say and he quickly grabbed his shirt. Mahiru didn’t respond but Kuro saw the way a blush rose onto his face. The door slipped shut and the light thud it made pulled him out of his shock.

Mahiru quickly looked away from Kuro and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to see anyone here.”

Mahiru spun around to leave after the flustered apology but he stepped onto a patch of water. He started to slip and he reached behind him to catch himself. Kuro jumped forward to help him and he placed his hands on his waist. Impulsively, Mahiru wrapped his arms around his neck to balance himself. He could feel water soak into his clothes and his face reddened further.

Mahiru almost forgot how to breathe when he looked up at Kuro. For someone who claimed to be lazy, he had lean muscles. Kuro didn’t seem to be as flustered by the situation as he spoke in his usual calm drawl. “Are you okay? I thought you hit your head for a minute there.”

“I’m fine.” He said and he hoped Kuro couldn’t tell how his heart was racing. He stepped back to place a respectful distance between them. “You should put on some clothes before someone else walks in and gets a heart attack. I know you lived with a lot of siblings but you shouldn’t get so comfortable living with everyone here.”

“I kept my clothes out here because I didn’t think anyone would use the bathroom at midnight.” Kuro said and he pulled on his shirt. “I stay up late working with Gear but I’m surprised you’re awake. Weren’t you the one who lectured me about healthy sleeping habits last night? If you’re having trouble sleeping, I can sing you a lullaby.”

“I just came down to use the bathroom.” Mahiru walked around him and his feet kicked against something. A key skidded across the bathroom until it came to a stop beneath a shelf. He quickly ran after the key and he struggled to reach beneath the shelf for the key. While Kuro was confused by his panic, he sat next to him and he tried to help him reach it.

Their hands were too big for them to grab the key and Mahiru sat up with a frustrated sigh. “Damn, that was my room key. It must’ve fallen out of my pocket. I don’t know whether the landlord will be awake to unlock the door for me. Even if he was, he can’t get me a new key right away. I probably have to stay with my friend tonight.”

“Do you want to stay with me?” Kuro offered. He was nervous to hear Mahiru’s answer and possible rejection so he stood. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to because we’ve only known each other for a week. I’ll go. I’m in room 312 if you need a place to sleep.”

Mahiru counted the doors he passed down the hall until he found the number 312. The door was slightly ajar and he peered through the crack to see Kuro sitting on his bed. His back was facing him so he hadn’t noticed that he was outside his door. Before he knocked, he overheard Kuro speak with someone over the phone. “I can’t believe I invited Mahiru to my room! He probably thinks I’m a creep or something. Hey, don’t laugh, Gear.”

He knocked on the door softly and Kuro almost fell off his bed from how quickly he turned around. Mahiru stepped into the room and he was glad that it appeared Kuro felt nervous and excited as well. He had wanted to spend more time with Kuro outside of their midnight meals and he hoped his reaction meant that he felt the same.

“Hey, Kuro. I texted the landlord and I told him about losing my key. He said he would come down to help but I told him that I already had a place to stay.” Mahiru glanced around the room. It was messy as he expected but his attention was drawn to the pictures Kuro had carefully placed around the room. In the frames, Kuro smiled with his family and friends.

“The room is pretty small for two people so I hope you don’t mind squeezing onto the bed with me. I can sleep on the ground if that’s more comfortable.” Kuro lightly nudged a few boxes beneath his bed to make room for himself. Mahiru stood in front of his bed and he stopped Kuro by placing his hand on his shoulder.

“I would feel guilty for kicking you out of your bed but it is too small for us to share. How about we both sleep on the ground like it’s a sleepover?” Mahiru tugged on his hand as he made the suggestion. Then, he let go of his hand to pick up the clothes littering the ground. “We need to clean up your room first. I don’t know how you live in this mess.”

“You’ve barely stayed in my room for a night but you’re already ordering me about like a housewife.” Kuro chuckled but he stood to help him clean the room.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Song of a Mermaid Warrior pt 2

Part 2 to the mermaid story!

Decided to continue it, wanted to see where Jordan's story ends up.

You can read pt 1 here.

Enjoy!

___________________________

“Well, well, well! Never thought I’d see the mermaid herself swimming over to my fetid swamp here in the slums!”

A slim young man with bright purple hair grinned, flipping a silver coin into the air over and over without looking at it. “Thought you said you were never coming back? What, did your last book not sell as well now that you're peddling comforting little lies about your species?”

Jordan leaned against the doorframe of the dilapidated shop, wondering for the thousandth time if this was a bad idea. She knew the answer, deep down, but chose to ignore it. “Tock, cut the crap.”

“Oh sweetie, you haven’t changed. “ Tock laughed. “ I can cut the crap, but not sure what use it would be… crap is notoriously difficult to cut, tends to mush up, you know… and whose crap should be cut? Mine?” He shrugged. “ Sorry to say this body doesn’t make physical waste. What about yours?”

Jordan rubbed her forehead. “I should have known better than to do anything other than speak as literally as possible… I hate fairies.”

“You only know one fairy, darling.” Tock’s eyes blinked, the irises turning green, than orange, than staying at a robin’s egg blue. “Unfair of you to judge the whole species just because you don’t like me. Especially because I have been nothing but fair and helpful to you.”

“You tried to trick me into giving you my skin.”

“TRIED. Tried is the key word there. Plus you didn’t fall for it, so what’s the problem?”

Jordan sighed, knowing that there was never any point with arguing with Tock.

She had run into the fairy over two years ago. At that time she was frantic, trying to find Hunter’s location, and her desperation had led her to the darker corners of the city. She had spent every last coin she had, unable to eat or sleep, and at her darkest moment, she stumbled into Tock’s shop. Later Jordan had realized that it was likely that despair that had allowed her to find his place. There were magic wards to keep all but the most vulnerable out.

When they met, Tock had seen her madness, her obsession, and was ecstatic. He tried to get her to agree to many terrible deals in exchange for tracking down Hunter and after adding a small addendum she had agreed, feeling that whatever price she had to pay was worth it.

In the end, the addendum she had insisted on saved her skin, quite literally. She had added on a time limit that he had to track Hunter down and arrange a meeting. And to Tock’s shock and dismay, whatever elven magic was hiding Hunter’s identity; it was beyond the fairy’s ability to dismantle.

Tock had failed to find Hunter, and the contract expired. Jordan left, at the time feeling a strange mix of disappointment at the failure and gratitude to be still in one piece. As they parted ways, she swore never to come back to his broken place of deals with the devil.

Until today.

“So what brings you here, my lovely little fish?” Tock flipped his coin again, and it sizzled as it disappeared into thin air. “Still trying to find that stubborn elf boyfriend of yours?”

“He was just a friend, and no. I gave up on him years ago.”

Tock frowned, blinking as his eyes turned a bronze color. “Pity. Your skin has only gotten prettier since the last time I saw it… would love to find your price to part with it.”

“…” The memory of Hunter cheerfully making plans to run away with her still hung in her mind. What was it that he had said? “We might lose our clothes and money, but at least we’d have a fun story to tell”? We had no idea what real fairies were like. The ocean’s song in Jordan’s ears was rising, she kept her lips closed to hold back the seductive call of the magic. The fairy noticed her struggle, backing away slightly.

“Fine, fine, no more talk about your skin. Why are you mermaids so sensitive about losing organs?” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Mermaids regenerate, right? Or was that trolls?”

“Tock….” The name was forced out between clenched teeth.

The fairy rolled his eyes, changing them to a pure silver color. “So what deal DO you want to make today, my angry mermaid friend?”

She dug through her pocket handing over a silver badge with a handkerchief. Her touch shouldn’t affect his abilities, but Jordan still didn’t want to touch it. It represented something she had tried to move beyond in the last few years, a part of the past that caused her to wake up sobbing some nights, and to stay up drinking others.

Hunter had been her only friend, the only person in this world she thought she could trust. She had learned the hard way how foolish that trust had been. But once she had finally made peace with that fact, he had sent someone to intrude in her life once more. After forcing her to stay out of his battle, he was inviting her to join him, dangling the one thing he knew she couldn’t resist to get her to agree: the existence of other full blood mermaids.

She wasn’t going to play by his rules. If he was expecting her to run back to his side after forcing her away years ago, he would be sorely disappointed. And if she was going to use the clue he had given her, it was for her reasons and no one else’s. Because for everything he had gotten wrong, Hunter had gotten one thing very right:

She did want to find the mermaids in the city.

Not out of any sense of loyalty or need to find others like her, however. She was simply desperate. The instincts to fight and kill, to use her magic to trap and destroy, grew stronger by the day. Soon she was afraid she’d start killing innocent people. She needed to find a way to control it.

Jordan was hoping that other mermaids would know how.

Maybe other mermaids don’t have this problem. She thought at her darkest moments. Maybe I’m just a killer, a monster.

She tried not to think about that to often.

Tock gingerly picked up the badge, his eyes widening with surprise and turning a glowing violet.

“You always have the best things! Let’s see… silver… It was made several years ago… it had other forms years ago… but the owners of those items died quite violently…” He paused, glancing at her curiously. “Your handiwork, I would guess?”

“No comment.”

“Such an unfriendly fish… good thing you have such pretty skin, otherwise I wouldn’t pay you any attention.” He turned back towards the badge in his hand. “It was made with care and love… quite a pure emotion of care… along with a large amount of hope, all mixed in with the silver as it was reformed… it was part of a set?”

“Yes.” She swallowed uncomfortably, pushing back the memories of a young naïve girl, who thought herself hardened and bitter, carefully making a birthday present for her best friend.

“Can I see the other one?”

She thought of the location of the badge she had once treasured. “No.”

Tock pouted. “Fine. It contains quite a few auras, but the strongest one… is quite familiar.” His eyes turned a bright angry red. “Elf!”

“Yeah, it was Hunter’s.”

“That BASTARD! His blasted elf magic forced me to lose my contract with you!” He tossed the badge to the counter with a disgusted grimace. “You’ll never be that perfect combination of desperate and vulnerable again!” He looked back at me. “You are STILL trying to find that elf who dumped you three years ago? And I thought you had standards.”

The ocean song roared in her ears as it sensed her anger, pushing at her control, leaking from her lips. She could feel it swelling beneath her skin, threatening to force itself out. Tock rolled his eyes at the sight.

“Don’t try your battle magic here. You may be quite terrifying to meet in a dark alleyway, but I have some great wards in place.” He sneered as she kept her lips closed tightly. “Just a word of advice: Don’t face off a fairy in his own home.”

Jordan forced her magic down with great struggle, every instinct wanting to lash out. “I don’t want you to find Hunter. I want to know most frequent locations this amulet has been over the past six months.”

“And that’s not the same thing because…”

“Because it’s not him I’m wanting to find.” If he's found mermaids, then the locations he's been, the people he's spoken to... they'll be clues to track them down.

Tock raised an eyebrow. “Then what ARE you trying to find?”

“None of your business. I just need the locations this object has been most frequently.”

“Very well.” His smile became sly, his eyes shifting away from the angry red to a dark blue. “What deal shall we make for me to do this? How about your skin…”

The last word trailed off as Jordan held up a golden coin.

“…”

_________________________________

The silence in the room stretched on, as Tock’s gaze was locked on the object in her hand. His eye color was shifting rapidly, brown, grey, orange, green, before the whole eye filled with color finally turning a solid, glowing silver. His shoulders twitched, and his teeth grew longer in his mouth, the sharp points pressing into his still human appearing lips.

“Where did you get that?” His whisper had lost all of his previous joking tone. There was a small amount of magic woven into his words, a minor compelling spell to force her to speak, and speak truthfully. It buried itself in her ear, making her thoughts foggy. Jordan smiled, shaking her head as the ocean song within her rose in volume, drowning out the fairy magic easily, keeping her mind clear.

“I’ve picked up a lot of things these past few years.”

“ANSWER. THE. QUESTION.”

“No.” Jordan flipped the coin, mimicking the fairy’s earlier actions. “Don’t try your magic on me, fairy. I’ve had too many years of practice ignoring magical compulsions.”

“Fine.” He sighed loudly. “Do you know what it is you have there? Do you know if there’s any more?”

“I’ve heard stories… tales only whispered in dark alleys and in crumbling basements. Do you know in schools here they teach that the humans are the only ones affected by the Darkness? That losing the ability to have children was the be all and end all of the curse?”

“…” Tock kept silent, staring at her. Shrugging, she continued with a mocking smile.

“What a limited view, right? Turns out that everyone lost something to the Darkness. Every single one. It took whatever that species valued most. For humans, such a short-lived, social people, it was taking away the ability to make new generations. But fairies… you are born of magic and air, part of nature and outside of time. Procreation means nothing to you.” She flipped the coin up, letting it spin in the air before catching it and holding it firmly in her hand. “The Darkness took something much more important to you fairies.”

Tock was trembling at her words, unclear if it was with fear or anger. “What do you think the Darkness took from us?”

Jordan glanced at his empty back. “Your wings.”

“…” The fairy’s hands were gripping the counter in front of him. His fingers sank into the wood as easily as if it was made of clay.

“If it were just something to help you fly, I bet you would have simply made do without them. But they represent something much more important, don’t they?” She leaned closer, ignoring his threatening aura. “That’s where fairies store their magic. So now you have the live with the scraps of magic you absorb from the earth and enchanted items, unable to store it within yourself. That’s why you work here, in this pitiful little shop, unable to do more than hide behind these wards and peddle minor magic tricks for favors.”

“Be careful, mermaid…”

“Oh I’m careful enough, Tock.” She opened her hand and stared at the coin in her palm. “No wonder you wanted my skin… how much magic should be stored within it, I wonder. Enough to last you a few years I would think. Which is why this little coin is so important to you.”

“…”

“Fairy gold.” She held it up again. “Quite pretty, actually, looks like the real thing even on close inspection. But if I were to try to spend it… it would expel all the magic stored inside, turning to wood and taking away my lifetime’s luck. An inconvenience for me… but for you?” She grinned. “It stores enough magic for you to live comfortably for quite some time. You could leave this shop, set up protective wards wherever you ended up. Magic enough to stabilize your appearance so your eyes and ears don’t change; let you blend in if you wanted to leave your house for a change. “

“…”

“So what do you say, Tock.” Jordan flipped the coin one last time. “Do we have a deal?”

After a long pause, the fairy spoke up. “… I …”

“TOCK ARE YOU HERE?!!”

The shop door slammed open and a short redheaded young man burst in. As he rushed to the counter, Jordan got a closer look. He was a few inches shorter than her, his leaner frame still obviously muscular. His facial features were handsome, with bright green eyes that glowed with excitement and fiery red hair that was cropped short. He wore regular clothing, a grey t shirt and jeans, and would have seemed very average except for the massive axe strapped to his back.

Who the heck is this?

“Glit, this isn’t the time.” Tock warned, his tone still angry and tense.

“No, Tock, I’ve been thinking about it… maybe I SHOULD be willing to compromise… exactly how much skin would you need to help me find the dwarves?”

The fairy’s eyes glowed an excited gold, his teeth retracting once more as he stabilized his appearance. “Well now…”

“Add his bill to mine.” Jordan interrupted, glaring at Tock. “No skin.”

“But… that’s unfair! We already had a deal!”

“You didn’t accept it in time, so now the deal has changed. “ She shrugged “The price I’m offering is more than enough to cover us both. I would suggest you take the deal before it changes again.”

Tock glared. “FINE! FINE, I ACCEPT!”

The young man turned to her, shocked. She met his gaze, holding back the urge to sigh. Jordan wasn’t much one for random acts of kindness to strangers, but he reminded her of herself a few years ago. Lost, desperate… the only kind of people who can slip past Tock’s wards. She just wasn’t sure what his reaction would be to her interference… annoyance? Gratitude?’

He grinned at her. “You look really strong! Wanna fight?!”

… Well that certainly hadn’t been the reaction she was expecting.

“Maybe later…”

His shoulders slumped. “Dangit. I was losing hope of meeting a strong person in this awful city… no offense if you like it here.”

“None taken, I don’t.”

“I finally meet someone worthy of a good fight, and I make a terrible first impression.” He sighed. “My Ma always did say I needed to work on my introductions.”

“…And you are?”

His eyes widened. “I haven’t told you that yet?” His hand slapped his forehead. “Sorry, must have been distracted by the whole ‘trading my skin’ thing. I’m Glitenaere ni Tolk Vhelarite, firstborn of Marleiun ge Nerturin, the greatest Dwarven warrior alive… but you can call me Glit!”

She looked over the short young man. “You are the greatest warrior?”

“Nope. My Ma.”

“You’re a dwarf?”

“Since I was born.”

Jordan felt curious, having only ever read about dwarves from human textbooks, which said they were a reclusive, unfriendly race.

The reportedly unfriendly, reclusive dwarf was reaching out to shake her hand. “Thanks for the saving my skin, friend!”

She didn’t take his hand. “Shouldn’t you have a beard?”

Tock burst out into laughter, his eyes turning a humorous magenta. “Wow, way to go straight for the gut.”

“Aww, shut up fairy, she didn’t mean anything by it. Can’t blame her for not knowing in a city like this.” Glit leaned against the counter, rubbing his chin with an idle hand. “I’m a darkling, a child born infected by the Darkness.”

“Every race lost something.” Jordan whispered.

“Not everyone was infected, but those who were never grew beards.” He looked sad for a brief moment. “It’s a symbol of strength, of connection to the Earth… everything in our culture revolves around it.”

“What about the women?”

“Oh they grow them too. You should see my Ma. Her beard makes all the boys cry with jealousy.” Glit laughed. “They all thought with her being the strongest and all, her child would be too… but…”

“…Sorry.”

“Oh don’t worry, friend. I’m not weak. I may not have a connection with the earth and a powerful beard, but I’m a force to be reckoned with when I have an axe in my hand!”

Tock looked up, his eyes turning bright white. “You may have to test that out sooner rather than later. We have company.”

BANG! Something slammed into the closed door behind them.

_________________________________

Jordan took a defensive stance, while Glit drew his axe. “Who’s coming?”

“Probably one of those damn purity obsessed groups. They constantly sweep the slums, looking for low bloods and part elves. Usually the wards keep them away, but today, I got a little… distracted. “

“Great. Not really in the mood to deal with these guys, Tock.”

“They bad guys?” Glit spoke up.

“Yep.” Jordan answered softly. “They do horrible things to those who can’t defend themselves.”

“Fair enough. Today they picked on the wrong type of people, though.” Glit grinned. “Let’s kill them!”

His easy acceptance of the violence they would face ahead gave her a little pause. Before she could examine it too closely, the door crashed open, and a large group of men wearing black cloths around the lower halves of their faces rushed in. In their hands were standard pistols, the dull metal glinting off the many lamps of Tock’s shop.

“Looks like we got a haul, boys!” One of them spotted Glit and Jordan, his eyes widening with shock. “That short one definitely can’t be high purity… he’s either a low blood or a dirty elf mix blood! And the other…” He glanced and Jordan and laughed. “A No Blood? Thought they were all gone!”

Glit twirled the massive axe in his hand with ease, looking confused. “Do I look like an elf?”

Jordan thought of the tall quiet young man who had always followed behind her, always trying to avoid violence. “Not even a little.”

“Ah.” He tossed the axe lightly, catching it with the other hand. “Hey fellas, despite your insults and poor eyesight, I’m gonna be nice. Here’s your one chance to run away, before my strong friend and I start slicing you to pieces.”

Even with the majority of his face covered, the disdain on the attacker’s face was evident. “Shut up, dirty elf! Even with your axe, you really think you can face a group with guns?" He snorted, "Now we’re gonna have fun killing you.”

Glit just laughed at the threat. “I was hoping you guys would say that!”

As the group of attackers spread out around the room, he turned to face one side, leaving his back open to Jordan.

Jordan hesitated briefly at Glit’s open back, startled at the gesture of trust, before slowly turning to cover him. She glanced around to see that Tock had disappeared before closing her eyes, calling up the song within her and setting it free.

From her mouth a song of battle rang out. Several of the attackers stopped in their tracks, caught in her illusion, but the rest were only mildly affected, just barely losing their grips on their weapons.

Jordan cursed silently, still singing. Her magic was very effective against small groups of enemies, but the more people it was spread out against, the less useful it would be.

As the song of death spilled constantly from her lips, she felt her nails grow out into claws and moved forward, striking the attackers that were not incapacitated first. From the side she heard Glit run forward, spinning his axe, blood and tissue flying through the air as he cut through enemies.

Blood dripped from her fingers. She heard someone behind her, preparing to strike and turned, grabbing his neck. She felt the water within his heart, and used her magic to stop it in place. His face turned pale, and clutching his chest, he fell to the ground.

Jordan was feeling the drain of her magic. Her vision was turning a bright blue, the song growing in her mind, calling for her to give in completely.

BANG! A shot rang out past her ear, and sensing the danger, the song surged louder in her soul.

Can’t give up all control to my instincts. She thought grimly, slicing the shooter’s face. I might just lose myself completely.

It was hard, fighting against physical enemies while resisting the magical bind of her own blood, but Jordan forced herself forward, grateful for the help of the dwarf beside her. If she had faced all these enemies by herself, she might have lost to the bloodlust within her.

The air was filled with blood and screams.

And then… there was silence.

__________________________________

Jordan’s vision cleared as she forced the song of the ocean down, keeping it tightly controlled within herself. Her nails retracted and she stood in place, staring down at the blood on her hands.

Hunter always said he didn’t want me to be a killer. She closed her eyes briefly with pain. She felt dirty, worthless. Maybe if I wasn’t one he wouldn’t have left me behind.

Lost in her thoughts, she only came out of it as she felt a warm touch on her hands. Shocked, her eyes flew open, only to see Glit pushing a large wet cloth into her grasp.

“Here, friend, you can clean your hands with this.”

She paused, unused to the kindness, but took it anyways. “Thanks.”

“No problem! You’re amazing! That battle song… had magic in it right? Are you not human?”

“Mermaid.” The word came out before she could stop it, and Jordan pressed her lips together, annoyed. He’s a stranger. No need to tell him anything more. She tucked the dirty rag in her pocket, not wanting to give Tock a free sample of her blood.

“Really? I thought they had all disappeared!” Glit’s face lit up. “My Ma always said that the mermaids were the only warriors she wouldn’t want to face up against! That’s awesome!”

She glanced at the dismembered bodies on his side of the room. “You’re not such a bad fighter yourself.”

His smile brightened. “Really? Thanks! Those guys back home thought I was pretty useless, being a Darkling and all, but if a mermaid warrior says so, I’ll trust your opinion!”

“This is all very touching… but what am I supposed to do about the mess you made?” Tock’s annoyed tone caught their attention.

“We fought off your attackers while you hid in the back, fairy.” Jordan raised an eyebrow. “You can worry about the mess. You’re lucky we don’t charge you for the service.”

“Yeah, what she said!” Glit crossed his arms, standing at her shoulder, and smiled at Tock, the still bloody axe in his hand making the gesture threatening.

Tock rolled his now yellow eyes. “Fine. While you two were gleefully tearing those idiots to pieces, I finished the tasks you gave me.” He spread a map on the counter, ignoring as the far corner was stained with blood. Jordan recognized it as a map of the city. With a golden pen the fairy circled a few buildings. “Here’s where the amulet has spent the most time in the last six months, in order of most time spent.”

She glanced over at Glit beside her. “And the dwarves?”

“Tougher, since he doesn’t have a possession from the dwarves in question, but…” He picked up a silver marker, and circled one place. “There is a high concentration of earth magic here.”

Glit and Jordan stared at the spot, where silver and gold overlapped.

“Looks like me might be looking for the same place.” She whispered.

“Really? That’s great, friend!” He paused. “By the way, what’s your name?”

“Jordan. But I don’t think we’re friends. I don’t trust anyone.” Not anymore.

“Jordan!” He grinned. “Don’t worry, we can still be friends. You don’t have to trust me. I’ll trust you enough for the both of us.”

Tock groaned. “You’re so naïve… why couldn’t you have shown up when the mermaid wasn’t around?! I could have extorted you for so much skin!”

Jordan grabbed the map silently, unsure of how to respond to the dwarf’s enthusiasm.

“If you’re going there, can we go together? I’m looking for a large group of dwarves that disappeared, we think they might be being held captive in the city.”

“…You really shouldn’t trust people so easily.” Her words came out as a pained whisper.

Glit’s face became solemn for the first time since they met. “It’s okay. I’ve grown up in a world that hates me. It’s not been easy, but over the years, I’ve developed a good sense of those around me, and what kind of people they are.”

“And kind of person do you think I am?” She was genuinely curious what the cheerful dwarf thought of her.

“You? Well, you’re someone who cares too much and wishes you wouldn’t. My guess is that you’ve been hurt very badly by someone you trusted… and now you would never wish that same pain on another person.” He shrugged. “So that’s why I trust you. You might kill me if you have to, but you’ll do it facing me. You won’t stab me in the back. You couldn’t bear to do that to someone after what you’ve been through.”

“Interesting opinion.” Jordan felt a strange mixture of despair and relief at his words. “Not put off by me killing men while they’re stunned by magic? That wasn’t just a fight…I’m a killer.”

“Hmm… well, I just chopped up six guys with an axe, and the only reason they didn’t shoot a bunch of holes in me is because of your magic, so I’m pretty sure I can’t judge.” Glit patted her on the back. “Are you looking for mermaids, like I’m looking for dwarves?”

She nodded silently, although silently she thought their reasons for looking were quite different.

“Then let’s go find our people together! You don’t have to trust your back to me, but don’t worry! I’ll defend it anyways.”

“Can you two leave?" Tock rubbed his face tiredly, his eyes flickering between purple and pink. "This touchy feely stuff is bad for my business. What if some desperate fool walks in and is inspired by all your motivational speaking?”

Jordan tossed him the fairy gold, taking back the silver badge she had given him, and turned and left the shop. “Never coming back, Tock.”

“Keep telling yourself that, my fishy friend!” He called back. “You’ll come back. They always do.”

“Okay then! See you later, Tock!” Glit called out as he walked behind her.

“…Actually, I would prefer it if YOU don’t come back. You give me a headache.”

Jordan and Glit left the carnage filled shop behind them

_________________________________

“So mermaids and dwarves being held in the center of the city.” Glit thought out loud. “Some sort of human conspiracy?”

Jordan thought of growing up in the orphanage, the city’s emphasis on having higher purity of mermaid blood rather than human, the complete lack of information on other races. She thought of Hunter and the underground Resistance. Of the Darkness that spread everywhere, touching every species.

Everyone lost something to the darkness, right?

So what did mermaids lose?

... What did I lose?

“There’s something broken about this world, more going on here then we realize.” Jordan answered softly. “But we’re going to figure it out.”

“Together?”

“For now.”

“Awesome!” He pumped a fist in the air. “Wait until I tell my Ma I went on a quest with a mermaid warrior. She’s gonna be so impressed!” He paused. “You two would get along, I think. Strong warrior types and all.”

Jordan sighed, rubbing her forehead.

“Why does everyone keep sighing around me?”

“… Let’s go. “

_________________________________

They moved quietly towards the place marked on the map. Glit, surprisingly, activated a hidden mechanism on his axe, folding it into thirds and hiding it in a backpack, and pinned on a “34” badge. He saw her glance at the silver ornament and shrugged. “Snatched this off some guy who tried to mug me when I arrived in town. Most people think I’m just a low purity level student when I’m dressed like this .”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“…” Older than me? Jordan adjusted her mental view of him silently.

“Don’t worry if you thought I was younger.” He raised his hands helplessly. “No beard and the dwarven height tends to confuse people.”

“Sorry.”

“No worries, as long as you don’t think I’m weak and helpless just because I’m shorter than you.”

She thought of him cutting through enemies with his axe. “No chance of that.”

They made they way to the abandoned factory that Tock had marked for them. As they neared the area, Glit pulled out a machine from his bag waving it through the air.

“What’s that?”

“Dwarven machine, it detects the presence of magic.” He frowned. “We need to be careful. This whole place is covered with spells.”

“If this was a human holding place…”

“It shouldn’t have magic.” He finished her thought. “Maybe go up to the roof and enter from there instead?”

They scaled the wall silently, cutting a small hole in the roof with yet another tool from Glit’s bag. As she peered into the building, she felt the ocean’s song start welling up within her.

“There’s danger here. We should go back and regroup.”

“Jordan, look out!” Glit pushed her to the side, wincing as the blow from behind her struck his head instead.

Jordan opened her mouth to release her magic, but before a sound could escape, a hand grasped her arm and magic flooded her body.

“Sleep.” The voice was familiar, but her mind was already falling into darkness.

Jordan woke up on a couch in a dark room. Groaning, she rubbed her head, feeling angry. She knew this feeling, this hung over dizzy sensation. Remembered it too clearly even though she wished she could forget.

“Elven magic.”

Glit groaned from his sprawled position in the corner of the room, his arms and legs tied tightly. The ropes dug into his skin, but he ignored it as he flipped his body into a sitting position on the floor, looking up at her with a sad expression. “Sorry I missed them behind us.”

“It’s fine, thanks for taking that hit for me.” She glanced at the wound on his head, crusted with dried blood, and winced. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just a friendly tap. I’ve got a hard head.” He grinned, then looked around. “Real question is, who has us, and why?”

“I have an idea... but I really hope I’m not right.”

“You always did have good instincts, Jordan.”

The familiar voice spoke up from the doorway, Jordan forced herself to sit up on the couch, staring at their captor with a pained expression.

She knew him.

Of course she knew him.

He had set his trap, sent her his badge, knowing she would use it… and she had fallen for it.

The man who haunted her nightmares smiled sadly at her. “Not happy to see me?”

She blinked, shaking her head slowly. “Hello again, Hunter.”

[damselofblueroses]

Bambi, Ch. 2, Ghost

You are my Bambi, girl, I am your candy, tell me what are you waiting for?

Summary: As an archaeologist who works on the Ancient Greece, you were on the verge of excavations’ session. While you have been preparing your team, you learned that your institute decided on your team has to work with another team as they wanted the outcome as a collaboration. The head of other team was your biggest rival, a scumbag in your eyes: Byun Baekhyun.

You two were supposed to work together for three months, in a Greek Island, Chios.

Could you manage to not kill Byun Baekhyun for three months?

Chapter Summary: Byun Baekhyun and the Reader remember the day they spent in UN Village together while they are heading to Chios. (Guys, this chapter, which is dedicated to the beginning of their relationship, is going to be two parts, otherwise it is going to be more than 20k lol)

Word Count: 11k

Content: AU, heavily Greek mythology, enemies to lovers.

Warnings: Well, the story contains NSFW/Smut, please minors do not continue.

Note: This story will be 7 or 8 chapters if I will not change my mind in the meantime. It is inspired by my major; however, I do not have a complete knowledge on archaeology, I am a historian. If I will make a technical mistake, please let me know. I am willing to receive any kind of feedback; you are more than welcomed to drop a message.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2: Ghost

5 years ago, Hannam-dong

Even if I want you so much it drives me crazy

You ghost

Even if I want and call for you all night long

You came to me and left without a word

You ghost, you ghost

You want to go crazy all night, you plead

You ghost

You disappeared again without a trace

“What type of sadistic and sick person could say that we have to work here?” you cursed between your teeth, you jaw clenched because of pure anger. “How do they expect us to do our job in the middle of fucking super-ultra-rich people?”

“Get used to it.” Junmyeon flinched your forehead, but his frustration was oblivious, even though he was doing definitely better than you. “Where is Baekhyun?”

“I do not know.” you recklessly pointed to the expensive cars on the road. “Maybe he was looking for a sugar mommy.”

“As your sunbae,” Minseok hit you. “I would like to remind you to hold on your manners.”

“Someone has to give a speech on manners to him.” your eyebrows knitted together. “Not to me.”

“Both of you,” Kyungsoo nonchalantly spoke. “need a really good beaten session, since both of you have no idea on how to behave.”

You threw the book you were holding to Kyungsoo, but he was too quick and easily saved himself from your unexpected attack.

“I am here, right?” you hissed. “Where the heck is that bastard? He always disappears when it comes to work, why do you hold me in the same esteem with him?”

“Because you are definitely a copy of Baekhyun.” Chanyeol laughed at your god-fucking-damn-it-so-horrible face expression. “Let’s face with the fact, Indy. Everyone knows that Baekhyun is a disciplined student, just as you are, badmouthed, just as you are.”

“Are you talking about me?” Baekhyun popped out of nowhere. “I heard you are praising me less than the way I deserve.”

Your face could be described as disgusted, but this would be the kindest way of telling how your appearance was. Actually, you wanted to punch his narcissistic self-perspective, to shake his cage in order to give him the lesson he deserved, but you did not want to be scolded by Junmyeon again. You just walked away from him, needing to put a safe distance between yourself and Baekhyun.

God, if you could run away to space, you would do it in order to not infuse with the same air with Baekhyun.

You disliked him, you disliked the way of his well-being, you disliked his velvety voice, his lame jokes, his sharp remarks, you disliked everything about Byun Baekhyun.

And you hated yourself because of finding him very handsome. Sometimes, you caught yourself, staring at Baekhyun, forgetting how to breath properly. His face was like a gift of God himself; his body ratio made you to say oh-my-fucking-god.

Thank God, he had the most annoying character, because if he had a good personality, you knew that you would fall in love over the heels with him.

“What kind of idiot chained us here?” Baekhyun asked to Junmyeon. “Fuck’s sake, what the heck we are going to here? Digging beneath the Richie riches’ villas?”

Chanyeol bite his lips before looking at you, silently reminding your own words and his remarks about being very same with Baekhyun. You did not back off, staring at Chanyeol with all frustration went through your veins, causing Chanyeol to laugh. Baekhyun hit his head, then walked towards Junmyeon to take his own tool bag.

You hated him for this, too. He was acting like he was a superior, like he was better than any of you, and what got your nerves badly was no one scold him as they would scold you if you would do the same things.

“Yeah, I am like this scumbag who does not carry even his own stuff, huh?” you literally sizzled between your teeth, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo heard your annoyed voice, but they preferred to keep their silence. Your hate was not a secret for the team, everyone was aware of the fact that putting you and Baekhyun was a dangerous decision since he also loathed you.

But to your dismays, you were the brightest students Sejong could always play on.

“Seriously what we are going to do?” Baekhyun repeated his question because he really did not have a single clue.

“Didn’t you read the mail Sejong sent us?” Jongdae asked him, raising one eyebrow. Baekhyun shrugged his shoulder, you bit your lower lip in order keep your frustration under your control. What a bastard!

“We have to visit UN Village, there are seven neighbourhood where we have to go and collect the permissions of the residents.” Junmyeon run his hand through his hair. He was already on the verge of cracking since he was the one who had to deal with a lot of capricious upper-class members in order to complete this fucking task. He wished nothing but changing his path, he started to think like the field was not his cup of tea, but before resigning from leadership, he wanted to find a good candidate who could lead the team.

He wanted you to be that leader. You and Baekhyun. Heretofore, Junmyeon laid his eyes on both of you and your abilities persuaded him to nominate your names when he could propose an election. He did not want to be a fieldperson, he wished to stay in his office, but at the same time, he could not inherit his legacy, Godfuckingdamnit Junmyeon’s did his best in order to engrave his name as one of the most successful captains, to anyone but the best. Yet, Junmyeon had no idea how to put you in good terms, since you were like a cat and dog, and Chanyeol, that giant idiot, used every opportunity to fan the flames, even that silent Kyungsoo enjoyed watching intangible scuffles between you and Baekhyun.

Junmyeon has been sensing that the team was becoming aware of the situation and camping as two different poles. Jongdae, Shinhye and Minseok were setting off closer to you while Chanyeol, Kyungsoo and the newbie, Jongin have been shifting to Baekhyun’s side. Damn, Junmyeon could not let it to be happen. He needed all of you under the same umbrella, especially you and Baekhyun had to stay together. He was seeing a great potential of you, if you could combine your powers, you were going to be the perfect team. Period.

“Let’s split into teams.” his eyes wandered around all of you. “We are eight, if we can divide ourselves into four teams, we will finish the job easier and quicker.”

“Yeah, you are right.” Kyungsoo approved. “I am going to take Chanyeol.”

“Are you my superior, dumbass?” Chanyeol hit his shoulder, but he was laughing. “I am with Kyungsoo.”

“Good.” Junmyeon inhaled. “Shinhye, you are with Jongdae.”

You automatically stirred next to Minseok, however you shuttered after hearing Junmyeon’s next orders.

“Indy, you and Baekhyun are together, Minseok, let’s go.”

“What?!” you immediately stopped and hissed at Junmyeon. “Am I with who?”

Jongdae realized the storm before seeing the clouds, clever as always, he disappeared while dragging Shinhye with him. You even did not notice, but Chanyeol’s smile widened, Kyungsoo smirked, and they rushed to their own direction.

Only four of you were standing on the pavement, you were throwing daggers to Junmyeon with your eyes. Baekhyun was nonchalantly looking at Junmyeon, while Minseok could not find a way to break the tension.

Junmyeon was cool as a cucumber.

“You are with Baekhyun.” he repeated his words, sounding like he was condemning you with execution. “What? Do you have a rejection?”

“Yes!” you exploded without thinking. “Why shou-

“Believe me,” Baekhyun interrupted your words, he was indifferent to your frustration. “I did not beg for being in the same team with you.”

“Did I claim that?” you swiftly turned on your tiptoes. “Did I say you are eager to be with me?”

“It would be the greatest joke you could make.” Baekhyun winked to you. “But you are not so into the entertainment, right?”

“Baekhyun,” Minseok noisily cleared his throat. “I am not sur-

“What do you know about me?” you heard your own voice. “This is why we cannot work together, you always make assumptions out of your ass, instead I work as organized, with the facts and tangible proofs.”

“What do you know about me?” Baekhyun coldly smiled at you, you could not describe its impacts on you, that smile had you wanting to punch him at the same time ignited some fires in your lower stomach. “We barely talk, have you been watching me all the time?”

“You wish.” you took a deep breath. “You are not worth my time.”

“Oh,” his eyes glimmered with a menacing luminescence. “I am deeply wounded.”

“If you are done,” Junmyeon raised his hands to the air. “We have to work.”

“Jun-

“Young lady,” Baekhyun barged on. “They did not teach you this, so it’s up to me but we are not in kindergarten anymore.”

You had to admit, no one could get your nerves till now like Baekhyun did.

You had to admit, you hated being called as a kid. Junmyeon’s eyes blown up when Baekhyun labelled you as a kid, before he could open his mouth, you stared at Baekhyun.

“I can see why we could be a team.” you took the directional instructions from Junmyeon’s hand. “A kindergarten kid has to take care of a cry baby while the adults have to work.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows furrowed, but you wholly ignored his visible annoyance, and started to walk. Junmyeon was looking at your back with a little bit concerned face, but he knew that he did what he had to do.

You were going to scold Junmyeon in the following hours of the day, however, now your job was teaching a couple of lessons on manners to this scumbag who has been walking beside you.

You spent the first hour in a total silence, talking only if the occasion called for it. The tension between you and Baekhyun was solid, someone could cut it with a knife without any problem. Baekhyun was bored to death, he never plan to have a day like this, he wanted to enjoy everything he did, he thought he could be with Chanyeol or Kyungsoo, having fun to death.

Instead, he was trapped with you.

The only girl he loathed to the bits.

He could not endure to hear your voice, even though you talked with the residents very kindly and respectfully. He had to admit that you were doing a good job, but it did not change anything he felt for you. He had been cursing Junmyeon since he put you two in the same task, however, he knew that if Junmyeon wanted something from Baekhyun, he would do it without question. Baekhyun could be many things, but he was loyal to his friends, and Junmyeon had a special place in his heart.

Also, behind the curtains of his hate, he could see why Junmyeon gave you to him. Although you were an abominable bitch, an obnoxious creature, a walking blasphemy, and a hate crime, Baekhyun did not think you could be an offspring of a lovely or healthy relationship, he was sure your parents were diabolical beasts, to his disappointment, you were reallyclever.

He wished you could be more reliable person, so he could work with you.

Baekhyun did not like to confess, yet he was aware of the fact that he desperately needed his own Evelyn O’Connor. Someone who could play the game with him, as his trustable partner in crime. He was extremely close to Chanyeol and Kyungsoo, but they were not equal to his wits and ambitions. Sometimes he was brassed off the conversations, time to time he found them boring and lame. His logic was faster than his mates, actually he was longing for nothing, but someone was equal to his high-speed brain.

You could be the one he was searching for, but you were made of poison, greed, and wickedness. Even if he would be blessed by the Heavens, he could not agree to work someone with you.

“Your Highness,” he heard your fucking voice. “We have to visit at least twelve houses more; do you mind hurrying up?”

“The only thing I mind is your fucking attitude.” he gritted his teeth. “Give the plan to me.”

“So, you can destroy everything I organized properly?” you smirked. “I do not think so.”

“Organized?” Baekhyun cocked his eyebrow. “Organized, my ass. Didn’t you lose Park Sangwan’s house? Twice?”

“Look who is talking.” the red of embarrassment slightly painted your cheeks and ears. “The one who had no idea about today’s plans.”

“At least I did not lose my fucking way and circled around the same house almost for half an hour.”

“And the award goes to Byun Baekhyun for his greatest achievements.” you gave back the wink to him, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Oh, breaking news. No achievement no award.”

Baekhyun took it personally since you two competed to each other as the finalists of last academic year. Your project was accepted as the winner while Baekhyun received only a certificate. You hit the lotto, he had to watch you, walking to the stage with a bright smile tugged on your lips.

Still, he could vividly remember the little smirk you gave to him that night when they announced your name.

“You did it consciously.” his jaw clenched. “That night. When they called you as the winner. You immediately turned to me just to annoy me.”

“It seems, I achieve my goal.” your smirk widened, a glistening layer of fun covered your face. “Were you disappointed?”

“Yeah, of course.” he did not miss a single second. “I was disappointed of the professors, I was believing they were cleverer than me, but their choice showed me they were nothing but idiots.”

“Could you smell the air, Baekhyun?” you asked with a serious face. He was confused for a second, you never ask a question to him or call him by his name, but before he could register, you tucked the words in his throat. “Oh, jealousy, my favourite.”

“Darling,” Baekhyun swallowed hard. “There is no single living soul who can be low enough to jealous you in this universe.”

That was not quite truth, because Baekhyun not only remembered your revengeful smile but also how you were looking like that day. He could paint you on canvas by closed eyes, and he would not miss a single detail.

And he was a little bit jealous on that day. Not only because he lost over to you, but also because of the people around you. You annoyed him not only with your award, but also with your closeness to the other men.

Despite of your usual oversize clothes or no makeup policy, you chose to present yourself in a different style. Your hair was perfectly combed, your makeup highlighted your face features, and you were wearing a little light blue dress which tightly caressed your body. Baekhyun, or none of your classmates knew that you had curves for example till that night and to Baekhyun’s dismay, you had a really good body. You were a minion, your beauty was very soft and although he really hated to admit this, you were a view for the spectators. Maybe not the prettiest, but you had something had people looking at you, liking you, desiring you.

You had an aura which was enough to make your biggest enemy to silently acknowledged that you were attractive.

“Maybe, there is no one.” you shrugged your shoulder. “But youwere eager to low yourself, huh?”

You did not forget the look on Baekhyun’s face when Professor Kim called you to the stage. You were sure as fuck, he was cursing you but also there was something else, glowing in his eyes. Something you could not describe, but you could see the same emotion in your reflection when you saw Baekhyun with that crowd of girls.

Rarely.

But still you knew that feeling.

That ceremony was hard for you, of course you were over the moon because of your achievement, that project opened you some fresh opportunities and proved that despite of being a junior, you were more than a bachelor student. You proved your talents and abilities to yourself by winning the first place, you completed a step, made your first goal come true.

And you nailed Byun Baekhyun’s coffin. It was worth of every minute you spent sleepless, your tears and sweats, the hours in library, the hours in front of the plan of Gyeongbokgung Palace and search for the most logical and safest ways of conducting an excavation around the palace.

Your ideas were chosen over Baekhyun’s ideas, and you were aware of the quality of the solutions he proposed.

You were proud of yourself.

It was the bare truth that Baekhyun’s face were singing to you just as your favourite band could sing, seeing his face just like someone fed him with cucumbers was equal to being accepted into your dream field, Chios’ excavations, as the chief archaeologist.

But you were annoyed.

You could not happily taste your success. You could not feel its flavour on your tongue buds.

Because of that bastard looked fucking magnificent in that bloody black suit.

You have been told about the dress code you had to follow, however no one, not a single soul managed to catch his level of looking good in a suit.

You were annoyed because your taste in men was exactly equal to Byun Baekhyun. He had everything you could ask for, he was devilishly charming, there was even no need for words to describe him, he was beautiful.

And he was the only one you hated the most.

Every girl in the room was drooling over him, to your dismay, just like you. You felt that feeling in your stomach, a pain which was spinning, spinning, and spinning, causing a tornado inside of your stomach.

Was it jealousy?

“I already noticed your ignorance about the feelings.” Baekhyun could not control himself anymore and grabbed your shoulder, turning you to the opposite direction. “We have to follow this fucking street, or we will be lost again.”

“Have you been observing me, Baekhyunnie? That’s so cute.” you ignored the second part of his words, just starting to walk on the direction he instructed to you.

“Observing you takes a minute, baby girl, since there is nothing to see.” he answered but he found it interesting when you called him as Baekhyunnie. “You are a spoiled brat.”

“Hop, that hurts.” you pouted, pressed your fist on your chest, faking a whimper. “Would you like to tame this spoiled brat?”

You started to think that you went nuts.

“In your dreams.” Baekhyun laughed, but he literally lost himself in the fucking possibilities you could be tamed by him. “You have to wait a couple of centuries for someone who can be willing to be with you.”

You chuckled but preferred to keep your silence after his words. Damn, your sudden quietude caught Baekhyun’s attention more. Why didn’t you not attack to him? Why didn’t you give him a sharp answer as you should have?

Why you chuckled like there was a line at your door?

Was it?

Baekhyun pondered that instead of the fact that you were generally with a small group of friends, to both of your dismays your common friends, he did not see you with strangers, so there could not a queue for your hand.

Could it be?

And why the fuck he should have care if there is a crowd for you or not? No one could want someone like you if they did not lose their mind.

But he cared. Fuck, he cared more than he wanted.

Because to his disappointment, he knew that there was a real cavalcade of knightly candidates for you.

“Okey,” you checked the time. “After this one, I am going to have lunch.”

“We are going to have lunch.” Baekhyun gritted his teeth. “I hate eating alone enough to endure your presence.”

“Didn’t you tell me there is no one who could want to be with me?” you snickered. “But you have no reservations about having lunch with me?”

“Imagine the situation I am in.” he grumbled. “The day gets better and better.”

You decided to annoy him, pushing him to the edges as much as you could do. The first response that came to your mind refusing him, but the other option was funnier. You could play with Byun Baekhyun, you could take your revenge by being a pain in the ass.

He said that he could endure your presence.

You could make him regretful of his words.

There was a very little smile tugged on your lips which you were not aware of, however, to his dismay, Baekhyun realized it.

Her lips are rosy and plump, he thought to himself. Even though he called you a spoiled brat, he was not sure of if you were a brat or not. Kiddos have not the type of lips, calling people for the kisses, like you. There was something, even during your cocky performances when you tried to beat the life out of him, although you always kept that dull and bored expression and acted like Baekhyun was not worth of your time, but there was something just in you.

Baekhyun swallowed down his own vomit when he admitted it to himself, and you have caught his glare.

“What?” you purred. “Can’t you take your eyes off me?”

“Who the hell wants to watch you?” he quickly collected his thoughts and put them in a fucking trail. “I am looking for a restaurant where we can have good food.”

After a permanent mutual ignorance session for years, his next words caught you off your guard.

“You like local foods, right?” he asked. “I guess the second shop on this street is famous for jjangmyeon and tteokbokki.”

Well, you had to admit that his questions made your brain a little bit foggy. How could he know that?

“Yeah.” for the first time in history, you did not come up with any sharp answer. “How about you?”

“As long as there is no cucumber or extremely sweet cuisine,” he started to walk. “I am fine.”

You heard that Baekhyun is really not in good terms with cucumber.

“Feel you.” you murmured in your mouth because you hated cucumbers as much as you hated Baekhyun. He swiftly look at you, you accompanied him on the street.

“We should celebrate.” he teased. “I said something, you just answered, and we did not have a fight.”

“This is a privilege for cucumbers.” you shrugged your shoulder, but you also felt that he did not buy your nonchalant tone. “I cannot stand them, mum loves it too much, I mean what type of person can love a cucumber? If I need water, I prefer to drink it.”

Your observation made him tilted his head back in that rumbling laugh of his, you were unwilling to join, but the corners of your mouth turned up slightly.

“Here we go.” He, as a gentleman, opened the door for you, you responded with the most neutral expression you could muster. “Oh, no thanks?”

“Thank you.” you rolled your eyes, however, despite of your strongly negative feelings against him, you do not like rudeness. “Sorry, that was insolence of me.”

“Your apology is fully accepted.” he winked, you hated that cocky tone, you hated yourself for falling into his trap. You passed him, went to a distanced table where it placed in the corner. You did not want to be seen as having a lunch with Baekhyun by your teammates.

Corner was fine.

“Oh, no.” he grabbed your arm, manhandled you to the tables of the center. “I will not let you escape. If they see us, let them to see.”

Your eyebrows knitted, your lips pressed to each other enough to form a thick line on your face, you could almost taste your growing anger. But at the same time, you realized that feeling his hand on your skin increased your heartbeats, you wanted to scream with self-hatred, but you bite down on your tongue as his hand quickly wandered to down, to your waist. He directed you to the most visible table from outside while you were fighting yourself in order to control your fucking pace of breathing.

Please, this could not be true, I could not be excited because of his touch, you thought.

This was not happening, what the fuck was happening?

Baekhyun was not so different from you, even though his face expression was not changed for a bit. He forced himself to take control, but it was really hard for him.

Your hate was reciprocated, right? You guys could not spend even a bloody minute in peace, the only thing you had was annoyance.

So, why you perfectly fit in his embrace just like you were made just to be under his arm?

Why Baekhyun wanted to tight his arm around your waist?

Why could you not say anything even though Baekhyun was literally holding you?

Why you felt like you were in the only place where you had to be for the rest of your days?

“Hi.” you heard the waitress who was a really beautiful girl. “Welcome to Sung’s String. How can I help you?”

Even though finishing her sentence, she begun to eye Baekhyun. You rolled your eyes and reached to the menu; to be honest, this show was not funny after seeing it for the million times. Every time, Sejong Team went outside for a drink, for a gathering or even for a museum trip, girls and sometimes boys gazing the members of Sejong Team just like they were idols or actors because of their good-looking. Eh, they were not wrong, you had to say that the Sejong Team included really, really, and really handsome boys from Baekhyun to Chanyeol, from Kyungsoo to Jongdae and these boys’ superiors were Kim oh-my-godJunmyeon and Kim lord-help-us Minseok.

Well…

You were already got used to the reactions coming from all around when Sejong Team showed their faces. You knew that both of insiders and outsiders of Sejong Institute called your team members as the Flower Boys or a shitty nickname like that.

“I would like to have a jjangmyeon without cucumbers, and a tteokbokki.” you turned the menu off. “With a light coke.”

“Coke?” Baekhyun mimicked you like he could not believe his ears. “Are you kidding? Everyone knows that you have to drink jasmine tea in order to help digestion.”

“Have you been majored in nutrition?” you gave him your bitchy resting face. “Shut the fuck up.”

“No coke.” he wholly ignored you and turned to the waitress who was watching him as drooling. “Please, we want two bowls of jjangmyeon, two tteokbokki, also please we would like to have kimbap and kimchi as the garnitures and of course a pot of jasmine tea.”

“Yeah!” she sounded weaker after Baekhyun conducted all power he had in his eyes to her. “Anything else?”

“I guess we are fine for the time being.” Baekhyun smiled to her, causing a flush of redness on her cheeks.

“I will be back as soon as possible.” the girl literally purred, Baekhyun’s eyes shined after her reaction. Little bastard. You did not want to think about it, but his visible joy had your stomach churned. You inhaled and took your book out of your bag.

“What are you doing?” Baekhyun glanced up at you, reached to take the book from your hands. “Having lunch together means conversation, are you going to read?”

“Give the book to me, Byun.” you kicked his foot under the table. “I know you do not know how to read and enjoy but that’s a good habit to have.”

“Yeah, I know that habit of you gives nothing but lonely hours in library.” he had no limits of shooting his arrows. “Have you ever tried something different for a change?”

“Like what?” you tried to get back your book. “Following your great example and dedicate my life to your favourite sport? Sorry, I have no interest in running after women by lolling my tongue out of my mouth.”

“Baby girl,” Baekhyun put your book in his leather bag. “You have no idea whose tongue lolls out of the mouth.”

You could not decide on what you hated the most. Baekhyun or the girls after Baekhyun? You concluded as both of them were equally horrible in your eyes.

“I am sure your stories are incredible.” you inhaled. “But I really do not like to hear the anecdotes of miserable women. Could you give the book back before I gauge your eyes off?”

“Nope.” he grinned. “I can bet on you are still a virgin but tell me if you have an affair or not, I would like to pay my condolences to your partner.”

He was already written as the first name in your list of most-hated-people, but suddenly became the first man to be written as the first enemy of a lifetime.

“Did you finish your own list of dead partners?” you raised one eyebrow. “Thinking of its length gives me chills.”

“No dead.” his grin widened from one ear to the other. “They just had some temporary heart problems due to the performances I gave to them.”

You opened your mouth to slap his face with the words, but the waitress came back to your table with a huge tray. She was placing every bowl and plate, actually fucking Baekhyun with her eyes, you literally hardly suppressed your instincts, telling you to warn her immediately.

But you were not honest with yourself about why you wanted to warn her. In the deep of your mind, but in very deep, you had been starting to realize that you disliked when the girls threw themselves to Baekhyun because you wanted them to stop. You did not like the scene because you did not want to share Baekhyun’s gaze with another person.

You were lying to yourself without realizing what was the real problem of you.

You loved Baekhyun from the beginning, even though he was a fucking tease and a bloody smartass. There was no other man for you, if someone could cut your chest, the only thing would be seen in your heart was his name.

But that would be the heaviest self-enlightenment, and you were definitely not ready for such as a thing. That’s why you unconsciously continued to trick yourself by disguising your own feelings from your own eyes.

You got the chopsticks and decided to have your lunch instead of burying yourself in the maze of thoughts. Baekhyun realized your discomfort, but he had no idea what the real reason of your mood was, whatever made you unhappy was more than okey for him. He could be happy as long as you were sorrowful.

“You still not give an answer to the question.” he was persistent on pushing your limits. “Do you have a relationship?”

“Why are you curious?” you took a mouthful amount of jjangmyeon. How much you wanted to stuff these noodle strings into his throat, suffocating him to death. “If you want to send a bouquet, please note that I love blue roses.”

“You are really a virgin, huh?” Baekhyun diabolically grinned, you could swear on you saw the red halo over his head.

“Darling, you cannot make me angry by stating what is obvious.” you smiled back, there was no reason holding it back, you were always open on these issues, and a sick part of you wanted to tell him to see his reaction. “Yeah, I am a virgin.”

“Do you conservatively follow a church?” his chin dropped a few inches. “How could it be possible with all the boys who try to seduce you?”

Well, you did not expect to hear this.

“Come on,” Baekhyun continued. “I always see you with a bunch of men, do you really think they are following you only for friendship?”

“On the contrary of you and your limit-does-not-exist type of libido, people can build the bonds of affinity.”

“Only when they do not search for an open door to sneak in.” Baekhyun pointed his chopsticks to your face. “Telling you, I can name at least six permanent names in the waiting room.”

You did not see the hidden meaning of his words, however, Baekhyun was already became regretful, he silently prayed for your ignorance and blindness were going to keep him safe. Because he gave you the biggest clue of his interest in you by stating he could give even names.

He still did not understand how he could know everything about you or why he always put a brick on the ways of the candidates for you, but he did. Hell, he was unapologetically finding a way to prevent the boys who liked you and no one could understand it was Baekhyun. He always came up with a solution in order to intimate them, put them back off. You were not aware but Baekhyun always appeared around you when he thought a candidate was close to you more than he supposed to be.

He already put his stamina on you as his girl, but he was not aware of his own actions. He was not aware of what he has been doing, how he was persistently looking for you, searching for your face in every class or harmoniously living with your voice. It was like your breathing was singing to his ears, and he was dancing with your melody.

Baekhyun did not understand but he was yours.

“I am not sure what you think,” you sipped from jasmine tea with self-confidence. “But there is no such a fucking waiting room.”

“You are really blind.” Baekhyun chewed a rice cake, generously dipping it into the gochujang sauce. “Don’t you think Oh Seunghwan is acting like more than a friend? Or Jang Jeongbun? Jesus, even you really cannot be that much idiot.”

Baekhyun was right for the first time in history. You were nothing more than a retard because you really did not understand the behind the scenes of his words. He was unconsciously giving you the signs of his interests in you, but you were so naïve to see.

“They are my friends, Baekhyun.” you rolled your eyes back. “I know grasping the nature of different relationships is hard for you, but people can be nothing but friends. No need to add tensions or searching for hidden meanings.”

Every time you vocalized his fucking name, Baekhyun felt its impact went straight to his dick, and he hated himself for that.

You were not the type of people who could be okey with the target of teasing. You wanted to play, you wanted to be enhanced by it, sinking into the waves of the game.

And even Baekhyun did not admit it in his head, he believed you were the most attractive girl he has been known because of you always corresponded to his moves and cards.

“How about you?” you immediately played your reverse card, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “I heard that you and your gorgeous looks which made entire school swoon and fantasize about you? Are you really called as the sexiest human being on the country?”

Your voice was the strongest indicator of your disbelief, he could be the biggest moron on planet Earth, nothing more nothing less.

Also, you were aware of those comments on Baekhyun more than you wished for. You kept everything you heard about him in your head, in the safest and the most secret file of your brain, refusing to think but keeping on unconsciously think about those speculations. You found them very suspicious, but not because of Baekhyun did not deserve to be called as the sexiest human being, you found those fantasies as unlikely because of Baekhyun had not that macho man stuff people were somehow attributing to him.

You had grown so sick from all of these dreams and comments, coming from every corner of school since Baekhyun was like a star.

And now, you had him seemed quite displeased with your tease.

“Only on the country?” he raised one eyebrow. “Shit, it seems I am not doing well.”

“Baby, you are coming after Park Chanyeol.” you sighed in joy of dancing on your tiptoes. “That’s a quite achievement, when you think.”

“Chanyeol?” he sighed in annoyance; you knew that you trapped his ego in a small box. “Coming after Chanyeol?”

“Yeah.” you gave the most nonchalant look to him. “Well, I can tell that’s quite unfair since Flower Boys includes really strong names such as Kyungsoo or Junmyeon but… Poor girls, they have to be lunatic to put you after Chanyeol.”

“What do you think about these extremely distorted images of us?” Baekhyun angrily took a mouthful of jjangmyeon.

“Do you ask my list?” you crossed your hands over your chest, cooing with gleamy eyes. “I cannot believe that Byun Baekhyun, asking me, a poor peasant, for her list.”

Baekhyun’s eyes darkening, and you were not sure why your mood was changed from the pure need of mocking him to an excitement which you could not ignore. His voice was really screechy and boyish when he asked your list, and his voice giving you a different kind of pleasure. Not the pleasure of scolding him, but the delight of toying him, pushing him to the edge.

But you did not analyse your current feelings, instead, you rushed to deliver your actually-not-existent list.

“We are talking about physical features, right? But I am going to rate everyone also with their characteristics.” you smiled. “For me, the first name is Chanyeol. I mean, look at that face he has, and his body ratio is excellent, but he has a golden heart. Then, of course Kyungsoo, he is fucking handsome, therefore, he is a great guy.”

“I really pity your tastes of men.” Baekhyun’s discontent with your made-up list was palpable, and the dissatisfaction of his tone was like honey left out in the morning sun.

“The number 3 is Junmyeon as always.” you wholly ignored his comment. “No one can say anything against to Kim Junmyeon, he is the definition of aesthetic. Minseok and Jongdae shared the same number in my list, and that’s all.”

“You forgot me.” Baekhyun snorted, his voice made you lifted your head. He was so tense; you never see his jaw clenched at this expand. What’s up his ass? you silently though in your head.

“I did not.” you were cool as a cucumber. “You are not in the list.”

Till now, you guys always ate each other, digging the graves for each other, always fighting always scolding always throwing invisible daggers to each other. However, you have never ever seen those dangerous lights, dancing in the pupils of Baekhyun after your words.

It was difficult to wrap your mind around the fact that you found this Baekhyun as more attractive than his usual-self and unfortunately you already found Baekhyun very desirable. Even though you would never even let yourself to think about being intimate with him, his eyes stirred something inside of you, ignited some fires close to your lower stomach.

“I am sorry to hear that.” you also never heard this cold voice tone of Baekhyun, and you heard almost every negative version of Baekhyun’s voice which he spared only to use against you. “Let’s finish the meals, we have to be back to work.”

“Yeah.” you nod, lightly smiled. You managed to make him mad, you achieved your goal to annoy him so bad.

Why did you feel bad?

Why did you want Baekhyun to continue on the game?

Why did you feel regretful?

Why did you want to cry?

When Baekhyun’s phone started to ring, you almost completed every house in the list Junmyeon gave to you.

And you spent the last two hours in a total silence. It was eerily, Baekhyun’s lips firmly presses into each other like he sworn on not to talk again. You were not so different, but inside of your mind, something was gnawing your inner peace.

You were not happy, even you coped with the most difficult task, shutting Baekhyun’s mouth.

But you were not happy. You did not feel like you got the prize.

Instead…

You were extremely sad, and you felt like you let the trophy to slid between your fingers.

You had to feel like you hit the jackpot, but quite opposite, you were miserable.

You were especially afraid of losing Baekhyun’s attention, your own heart was aching at the way you told him off.

Still, you were lying to yourself and trying to conceal what made you afraid, you were not honest to your conscious, however despite of your efforts, you knew something was wrong with you after his transformation after you showed him the door.

You were a coward; you were not accepting the solid fact that you were in love with Byun Baekhyun and what made you afraid was nothing but losing him.

However, you were also sure on Baekhyun had a place in your head, making you shutter, had you shaking in your shoes. You could not name where to put his name, but you knew he had a place in your life.

And you were horrified by the possibility of losing the chance of hearing his voice. Even if his cocky remarks were the only words you could rip from him.

“Yeah?” Baekhyun answered to the call, for a second, you were happy to hear his voice again, but he walked towards to the last house you had to visit without waiting for you. He did not do this, even in the beginning of the day. You took a deep breath, you did not know why the heck you were really sad for his sudden coldness, godfuckingdamnit didn’t you hate and always despise each other? You mentally slapped yourself to gather yourself up, but it was pointless, you rushed to catch him.

You were aware of there was a painful squeeze in your chest, but you could not understand the reason of its presence or how you could get rid of that.

“Junmyeon told us to retreat.” Baekhyun informed you without looking at you. “After this house, we have to run back to the meeting point.”

“Okey.” you nod, hated the meek voice tone you produced but your mind was not on the case, you were questioning your own feelings and firm beliefs about Baekhyun.

Baekhyun was not better, to be honest, he was worse than you.

When you nonchalantly told him he was not in your list, he wanted to puke everything he devoured during lunch even though tteokbokki was his favourite food. He wanted to punch himself on the face when you counted the members of your fucking list, he wanted to smack his head into the table.

Chanyeol? Kyungsoo? Damnit, even Junmyeon found his way to sneak into your list, but Baekhyun was not there.

He was always sure of he would be landed in every list, but he never think that being in your fucking list was the most important for him.

Why did he care if you were not seeing him as a man or not?

This question swirling in his head had his mind shattering.

As much as he was happy to see you wiggling like a worm under the fires, he could not control his reactions against the problem. When he saw you trembling over a case, he was the first one always popped out of nowhere to fix the problem in the darkness and never let you learn that it was him. He did not let even Junmyeon to help you, putting aside Chanyeol or Kyungsoo.

Baekhyun was the one who had been saving your ass like he was your invisible rescue call.

But you did not name him in your fucking list.

It drove him into crazy. The lack of your attention. He never mean that alerting you on his helps or care for you, but at the same time, he never think that his efforts would be equal to nothing.

He hated himself as much he hated you.

While you were walking back to the meeting point, both of you were lost in your own darkest thoughts. You were carefully paying the attention in order to not to have immersed each other, however both of you wanted nothing but screaming to each other, enough to have the fiercest fight till now.

You wanted to lose yourself in Baekhyun just like he was dying to bury himself into you for his dear life. However, both of you were very good at muting the voices of your hearts and minds.

“Indy! Baekhyun!” you heard Minseok, turning to his voice. “It is going to be a blizzard; we have to find a shelter.”

“Ha?”

“The forecast was clear as fuck.” Chanyeol pointed Junmyeon who was glued to his phone. “Jun is looking for a hotel for us since we could not go back.”

“We can take the cabs?” you were puzzled, a blizzard would be bad, but it did not mean that you had to spend the night here. “I mean, we are not living in a different city.”

“Yeah, you are right.” Shinhye crossed her arms over her shoulders, trying to keep herself warm. You had to admit, although you did not feel it till now, the weather was really cold. “But the cab drivers refused to drive into the city center. They advised us to stay here.”

“How about using metro?” you asked. “It is not so hard.”

“If you want,” Junmyeon hissed at you, holding the phone over his shoulder for a second. “You can try your chance, Indy. However, we are going to spend the night here. Safe and warm.”

“He is right.” Kyungsoo smiled at you. “I prefer to be warm and dry, sorry.”

You took a look at the team, and everyone was approving Kyungsoo’s words like they were bloody zealots.

“Okey, dumbasses.” you sighed in annoyance. “But we do not have even fucking pyjamas.”

“You can always take your clothes off.” Chanyeol winked at you. “Who says you need a pair of pyjamas to sleep?”

“Shut the fuck up, Chanyeol.” a sudden blush spread over your cheekbones, Chanyeol could not help but burst into laughs.

Baekhyun was determined to ignore you, but he could not help himself.

“Yeah, number one.” he muttered between his teeth, enough to be heard only by you. “Golden heart.”

Your chin was dropped for a few inches after hearing his annoyed voice tone and vindictive comment.

Could it be the reason of his unexpected coldness?

Could he be jealous of your invalid expressions and your fake list?

No way.

He could not be.

Your heart skipped the order of beats.

“Okey,” Junmyeon interrupted your thoughts. “We are going, if we are lucky, we will be in the hotel before the bloody snow will sweep down on us.”

“Let’s go!” Shinhye grabbed your hand, dragging you beside of herself. You submissively followed her footsteps; however, your mind was distracted by Baekhyun’s last words.

Could it be?

“This is heaven.” Jongdae rubbed his tummy. “Thank you, Jun!”

“No problem.” Junmyeon smiled and looked at all of you, to be honest, after a really good and delicious dinner, everyone was knocked out over the table.

Except you and Baekhyun.

“If you want you can go to your rooms.” Junmyeon said. “Since we were fortunate to find a single room for each of us, I do not think we have to play rock-paper-scissor.”

“Ah, having a room for myself.” Minseok laughed. “I do not have to hear your snorts, Junmyeon.”

They were sharing the same flat, everyone laughed after his teasing, Junmyeon too.

“Look who is talking.” he beamed. “I am so happy that I am going to have one night without your damn showering rituals.”

“Tell us about it.” Jongdae whined. “Pleeeassse.”

While Junmyeon and Minseok had been giving details of their flatmate stories to the team, making everyone to enjoy the environment, you were deeply sink into the pool of thoughts.

What a day, you thought. And why I feel like I am desperate?

Also, Baekhyun was not enjoying the unexpected banquet, instead he was quite enough to draw attention to himself. Chanyeol was on the verge of asking what the heck was wrong with him, but Kyungsoo kicked him under the table, pointed you with his eyes. Chanyeol’s wit quickly grabbed the matter, and he devilishly grinned.

You gave a hard day to Baekhyun, and he had no intention to change a thing between you and Baekhyun.

He always believed that you were secretly liking each other, but as you were nothing but stubborn bastards, you concealed your feelings towards each other.

Chanyeol definitely had zero motive to interrupt the fight between you, if it meant you would understand your mutual feelings.

Junmyeon also sensed the tension between you and Baekhyun, but he was not the type of persons who could wait on his corner.

“Baekhyun? Baekhyun!” Junmyeon called out him, waking him up. “How was your day? Why you guys are silent as dead?”

“We completed the task.” Baekhyun answered sourly, the corner of his mouth jumping downwards faintly. “As you assigned me and her.”

Baekhyun deliberately avoided using the pronoun of us.

“And it was a hell of task.” he continued. “I am so tired.”

“Even if you are fucking tired,” Jongdae raised a rejection. “You never shut your mouth, tell us what the heck is gnawing you?”

The bloody girl who sits next to you, Baekhyun thought but he was clever enough to keep the filter between his mouth and brain as valid.

“The girl I gave a promise for this night.” he forced himself to beam. “Because of this fucking weather, I have to arrange another meeting with her.”

Your heart churned, his reply had you wanting to slap your face. Harshly.

And you thought that he could be jealous because you named Chanyeol!

You were nothing but such an idiot.

An idiot who did not know a single piece of shit but acting so superior.

You were a goddamn idiot.

Chanyeol’s eyes narrowed after hearing Baekhyun’s shitty words, Kyungsoo wanted to punch Baekhyun’s face so bad, Junmyeon’s dislike of Baekhyun was obvious but he did not say anything, just sighed in desperation.

You felt nothing but another flash of pain as someone hit your abdomen.

“Are you okey, Indy?” Jongdae leaned over to you, whispering. You shook your head positively, smiling slightly. “You did not throw yourself into even desert.”

Your love for deserts was not a secret amongst your friends as Shinhye, sharing Jongdae’s concerns, handed you a bunch of cloudy puffs, filled with lemon cream. You took one of them, although you had no appetite, you forced yourself to eat the puff in order to put your friends at ease.

He was your biggest enemy and rival, right?

Why you were so devastated, almost on the verge of being hysterical?

You were not aware of you had been hypocritical with your feelings, and you were running away from your own heart. That’s why your hands were shaking, your heart was drumming into your ribs and aching as hell.

You were not ready to face with your heart, but you were also too naïve to save yourself from the pain it caused.

“Was he really harsh on you?” Jongdae murmured, his eyes was nothing but full of worries. “I am sure you could put him in his place but still…”

“He was not.” you said. “And you know me, nothing cheers me up but kicking his ass.”

“Glad to hear that.” Jongdae inhaled but the worries did not leave his face. “So why are you so down?”

“I am really tired today.” you sighed, tucking another puff into your mouth as you mentally punched your face in order to take the fucking control of yourself. “But if I will eat enough amount of these pastries, I will be like a bomb.”

“You are already like a bomb.” Minseok joined into the chat. “You look like on the verge of exploding.”

You unwillingly laughed at his damn right assumption.

“You know what?” you sniffed. “I am dying for a good drink. Would like to join me for a soju break?”

There was no single soul who could oppose to propose of grab a drink in your team. Jongdae jumped out of his chair, Shinhye was born ready and Minseok was the strongest drunkard.

“We are heading to the bar.” Minseok happily announced. “If you guys want to join, perfect, if not, good night to all.”

You were always impressed by the eagerness of Sejong Team to jump into any opportunity for a drink. Everyone, every single soul of this team, had a strong will to consume a respectable amount of alcohol. Less than a minute, everyone gathered up and headed to the elevators in order to visit the terrace of the hotel.

You had been wondering how rich Junmyeon was, even though he was a senior in college, or which kind of relations he had under his belt.

Jesus, you could not pay your attention during the dinner, however the hotel you had been staying was nothing but a touch of luxury. You had a strong guess on the payment bill of this place, however you preferred to keep it to yourself as you knew that Junmyeon did not like talking about the wealth lies beneath his fingertips.

But the bar was intimating.

Minseok, Jongdae and Kyungsoo were having a fierce conversation about the administrative offices of Roman Empire, Shinhye were with Junmyeon as they were talking on the next project that they aimed to present for the Head of Department. Chanyeol, only God knew how the heck he found that, was playing a guitar and you, as dwelling in an extremely comfortable armchair, tucked yourself into a blanket like a sushi roll, were enjoying the sudden calmness around yourself. The dim lights, from the chandeliers dangling from the ceiling, casting mirages across the hall, showing the wooden tables scattered between the chairs and beautiful, fresh cut flowers in their elegant vases.

It is not Korean but Chinese or Japanese, you thought, however with your bad eyesight, making an observation about the porcelain and its design was impossible. Also, you were a little bit slothful at the very moment to move your butt, you wanted to indulge in the soju you were holding, not anything else.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, warm but unfamiliar, your head jerked to face the owner of touch.

Baekhyun was looking at you, however his eyes were different from his usual self. There was no intention to mock with you, his eyes were clear as the snow drops that covering the streets right now.

“May I sit?” Baekhyun asked to you, catching you off guard with an unexpected kindness. You nod, feeling a sudden increase of the level of excitement, but kept your mouth shut. “Thank you.”

Thanking you? Byun Baekhyun?

You perked up, starting to prepare yourself for the fight, despite of the considerable amount of soju flowing in your veins, you were ready to guard yourself.

His elbow brushed your forearm when he was rolling his body in order to adjust the chair next to you.

You were shocked by the reaction your body gave to the moment, the only thing he did was sitting on a fucking chair, but your cheekbones were on fire.

His hips, damn his hips your inner voice was hysterically whispering in your head.

“May I ask to which muse I owe this honour?” you searched Baekhyun’s eyes for a glint of dismissiveness, however this was the very first time you have been the target of sincere, chocolate brown and deep irises.

“I have a question for you.” Baekhyun quickly ignored your offensive joke. “Why I am not in your list?”

He may as well have tossed you inside of a volcano, kicking you into the pool of lava, the impact would be the same. Your heart prompted to your stomach, they churned together, your throat and lungs tightened so bad, enough to cut your air by yourself.

You open your mouth, but nothing come out, just a bubble.

“I do not know how to translate that.” he sneered however you were at a loss. You could expect a lot of words from Byun Baekhyun but questioning the reason of his absence in your fucking list was not one of them.

“There is—” you bite your lower lip to stop yourself, you were on the verge of confessing that there was no list, you just tried to poke his ego, but thank God, you still had a piece of sanity to hold on. “I do not understand. Why do you care my list?”

Do I look like I fucking know? Baekhyun wanted to shake your cage, he wished nothing but screaming at you with all power he had in his lungs. He had no idea why he was mad at you, but he was out of rage and the only reason was you.

“Because I am curious.” he leaned his elbows onto his knees, cocking one eyebrow to you. “And what I hate most is being ignorant to a case.”

“I know.” you spoke without thinking, your mind was delving into the current problem you had in order to find a balanced answer, so you did not realize what you exactly said.

Unfortunately for you, Byun Baekhyun did not become your biggest rival by being blind or deaf.

His lips slightly curled upwards.

But the gentleman he could be, he did not corner you for the time being.

“So?”

It did not mean he would not try to push you in order to get what he wanted.

“Is there a rule saying that every human being has to be interested in you?”

You were not aware of it, but your voice was cracking, and your breathing became heavier, quickened and there was a sheen of sweet on your forehead.

To your dismay, Byun Baekhyun did not unconsciously mark you as his girl without studying you to the bits.

“Humanity is a different topic.” he widely smiled. “I wonder about you, sweetheart.”

Your breath stuck in your lungs because of the endearment, even though you were aware of his teasing of you.

“You are not my type, Byun.” you dead serious.

“Ah, your type is Chanyeol, right?” he smirked, turning his head to the tall brunette who indulged himself into the guitar. “Should we alert him to your interest in him?”

“Goddamn, no!” you hissed at him. What kind of trouble he was aiming to knit on your head? “Do you know the definition of privacy? You are invading personal boundaries, dumbass.”

“I do not think so.” Baekhyun shrugged his shoulder. “If you like Chanyeol, Chanyeol has the right of be aware of your interest.”

“Okey, even a scoundrel like you cannot be crossing the limit of respect like this.” you moved to stand up, giving the most dangerous look to Baekhyun. “I do not have to lis-

“Hey, Chanyeol!” Baekhyun called him with a high-pitched voice. Chanyeol lifted his head, distracted by the unexpected scream of Baekhyun.

“What?”

“Nothing!” your hand immediately tugged onto Baekhyun’s knee, squeezing it tightly in order to warn him. “You are playing so good, keep going!”

Chanyeol laughed at your words.

“You do not have to scream like that, Goddamnit.”

“Tell it to your friend.” you rolled your eyes back, fuming with anger but covering your face pretty well. You turned to Baekhyun, your eyes telling him that he was in serious danger if he was not going to shut his fucking mouth up.

Baekhyun did not care your silent warning, but your hand on his knee was a real distraction for him.

“I know that he is not your type.” he murmured, watching your hand, small, pale, and soft, Baekhyun did not want to confess but he wanted to latch your fingers to his. “Is it Kyungsoo?”

“Do I interrogate your preferences of girls, damn?” you literally gritted between your teeth. “Leave it.”

“I have no intention.” Baekhyun turned to Kyungsoo, narrowing his eyes. “Let’s ask if you are Kyungsoo’s type.”

“What the fuck are you, cupid?!” you grunted, and your hands moved without your consent. You grasped Baekhyun’s jawline, your fingertips were brushing his ears. “I said, leave it.”

“If you want to shut my mouth,” Baekhyun beamed, ignoring the fact that your touch meant for a lot than he could expect, he was going to think about it later. “Tell me why I am not in your list.”

“No one can desire someone like you!” you exploded. “An arrogant, dandy, selfish boy who does not know nothing but bringing trouble to others. That’s why you can never be in my list, even I have to choose between you and an octopus. For the records, I hate octopus, but I would go for it, if it means the other option is you.”

“Oh, you hurt me.” Baekhyun’s eyes glimmered with the sparks of unnamed feelings. He leaned forward, enough you to feel his breath fanning your lips. “You know what, sweetheart? You are so aggressive only when you have a secret which have to stay only in your head.”

“W-what?”

“I am definitely in that list.” Baekhyun claimed it with confidence, but it was just the appearance. Inside him, his heart was definitely shuttering, cracking into pieces, he had no control over himself, he could not understand his sudden behaviours. “I am in your list, if there is a list.”

Your eyes widened, and pupils blown up.

“Jesus.” you snorted. “When you lost your fucking mind?”

“You are a pretty bad liar.” Baekhyun was making assumptions out of his ass in order to get a reaction from you, he was not fucking sure if he was in the list or not, but everything he said actually rang the true bells.

“And you are a lunatic.” your intense eyes pinned him down, and the frowning lips caught your attention, but you forced to came back to your senses as soon as possible. “You will never be anything more than a lunatic.”

You attempted to stand up, but he was incredibly swift to catch your wrist, pressing you back to the armchair.

“Tell me, sweetheart.” he held your wrist for his dear life, caging you and to your disappointment, coming closer to your face, causing your ability of speaking to be faded immediately.

His godfuckingdamnit lips.

“You have been having doubts on me since the day we met, your driving force is giving me hard time.” his breathing was fanning your cheekbones. "Confess now, why are you pissed at me all the time?”

“Hell, you do talk like you are so different. Aren’t you the one who always finds a way to be trouble for me?” you raised one eyebrow, letting him to realize the game was reserved for two people. “If it means liking someone, since when you have been fallen in love over heels with me?”

“You have no idea how much I want to place your heels over my shoulders.”

Your chin was dropped, his words had you turning into a mummy who was trying to register into his remarkable sentence without a single brain cell.

You had to come up with the best answer you could give. You had to find the best response to him, and it had to be a perfect balance of sharpness, cockiness, and matureness as it had to be said with the resting bitch face.

And you heard your own voice.

“Ha?”

“You heard what I said.” Baekhyun intensively gazed at you, the proximity between your bodies had your body quivering and trembling at the same time and his fucking knee slightly, almost insensibly pushed your legs apart.

“You are really nonsensical, Baekhyun.” you inhaled, doing your best in order to ignore all the jolts all over your body, numbing your mind but also setting the skin on fire. Every time you said his name, Baekhyun felt something turning in his lower stomach. “What the fuck you want from me?”

“You did not name me in your list.” You could not believe your fucking eyes, more importantly, you could not believe you were still listening his gibberish like a kindergarten kiddo. “But, I am better than everyone else here.”

His voice dropped the slightest, making you shiver.

“Would you like me to prove it to you?”