❣ Forelsket ❣ Keigo Takami/Hawks

[Book 2] ↬ {Male Reader}

Light Manga Spoilers

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The gods had bestowed upon the two of you an almost-amicable relationship.

Almost.

The cockiness that accompanied such reverence (from the entirety of Japan) was infuriating to you. How had he managed to arrest the unconditional support and adoration of the nation - yourself included? It certainly wasn't a matter you wished to dwell on, especially given your villainous background. Besides, there was a reputation to maintain. However, to your utter horror and dismay, he seemed intent upon teasing you, about anything and everything. It was a deliberate attempt to gain sovereignty over your attention, and you hated it. Twice might entertain and enjoy his company, but you simply didn't carry any amount of trust for the man. This was a hero, one indoctrinated into the corrupt system from a young age (far too young, in your opinion - not that your heart ached for him), and that wasn't an easy lifestyle to abandon! Certainly, his features wouldn't be painted with that despicable, false cheer, if he was genuine in his intentions.

He was definitely a suspicious character, one to watch closely, and interact with at your own peril. You couldn't risk unintentionally procuring for him the information required to bring down the organisation. No - you would resort to careful and distanced observation. Well, that was the objective. Alas, you were very rarely acknowledged by any divine power. You grimaced, turning away from said male and praying that he would leave your poor heart alone. All of a sudden, a gloved hand gripped your shoulder, and just as a gasp threatened to tear apart your lungs, another hand covered your mouth. Your hair whacked the personal-space-intruder in the face, when you moved to glare at them. You already knew who it was, but causing him the maximum amount of pain, without actually throwing a punch, was about the only thing capable of making you laugh.

"Ouch! What was that for, (Y/n)? I only came to see if you were okay!" He whined, crimson wings flapping pathetically.

Gods, you wanted to rip them off.

You weren't quite that outwardly aggressive, though. Not to him (this confused you, more than anyone). "Well, I'm not. You can leave now."

This seemed to pique his interest, despite your best efforts. Why was your heart thundering so violently for this man? Was it those unruly locks, which looked so incredibly fluffy (your fingers could have raked through them all day...)? Or was it, perhaps, those stunning hazel eyes, gentle one moment and teasing the next? You hated the manner in which your rib-cage trembled from the force of your heart palpitations. You hated that a fully-formed, well-endowed man stood before the winged hero, rather than a voluptuous woman.

Why weren't your born female?

"Huh? What's wrong?" After a minute, he clicked his fingers. "Oh, don't tell me - I'm too hot, and you're about to melt?"

A pained expression wormed its way on to your features. Technically, he was correct, but you couldn't possibly reveal this. Instead, you placed a hand on your stomach, telling him, "I feel sick...but, like, to the tune of 'Given Up' by Linkin Park."

The laughter that ensued, after your words were processed, froze you in place. Why was it so...so heavenly? Were you in the presence of an angel? Patches of an infernal scarlet started to clot your cheeks, until they matched his wings. As the deep, almost sensual-sounding hysterics consumed him, his feathers ruffled, tenderly caressing your skin. That...that was definitely a mistake, right? Well, no matter the explanation, it failed to help still your beating heart. You couldn't calm down. Beads of sweat were rolling down your forehead and palms, your face was virtually on fire, and you couldn't speak any longer, for fear of your quivering voice disclosing your feelings.

This man, you realised in a frightful panic, was no angel.

The Devil had possessed his soul.

[Word Count: 651]