#Oh and also! I found a way to avoid getting overwhelmed in class n it's working wonders as well n I'm just :]

[bellflower-goat]

:]

[yanderechuu]

Short-winded

yandere!Class 1A x fem!reader

[3K]

Summary: You are being forced out of your shell by your classmates, but now it seems more for their on benefit than that of your own.

Warning: anxiety, stalking

│

For someone who resented public attention, it came with shock when you announced you had wanted to become a hero.

You were the definition of social anxiety, often finding solace within the four corners of your room, and if not, then the kitchen of your house would do. So the worst form of betrayal your guardian could ever do to you was to send you off to U.A. dorms, practically miles away from the comfort of your own home. In the worst attempt to guilt-trip them, you claimed they were disowning you; still, they were adamant of the opportunity that you’d ease on socializing. 

What you didn’t know was that your guardian had warned your homeroom teacher of your current ‘predicament’ (they’d call it a predicament; you’d call it your own nature), and requested if possible that you’d be compelled to engage in social interaction until you were comfortable with it. Aizawa agreed, seeing to it that if your own guardian personally addressed it to him, then it must really be a matter not to be taken lightly of. He had seen your tendencies, too - like when you would be called out for recitation, always having the answer at the tip of your tongue, wanting to roll it out so you could sit down. In the end, you would never find the courage to respond, and your classmates would assume that you didn’t know the answer to the question, while only you and your teacher would know otherwise. You were silent about your opinions during group hero training, only ever abiding whatever your classmates’ plans were, despite the little hiccups and uncertainties you would recognize in secret (but they were rare, anyway, as most of the time you only heeded those of Bakugou’s or Midoriya’s or Yaoyorozu’s).

Only when your guardian had approached him did Aizawa come to realize that, oh, he had never really heard you speak. Now that he thought about it, what did your voice sound like? The last time he heard it was when you had asked an incoherent query after homeroom lessons regarding hero laws. He had asked you to repeat it again, and again, and again, until when he had said, “sorry?” you bore this flushed, troubled look, raising your hands in front of you and waving them, exclaiming, “n-nothing, never mind. Sorry.”

He never understood what you were supposed to say, that was until he rectified the short essay quizzes held by the end of the period, where you got less than half percent correct. You had a different perspective of the hero law discussed, and Aizawa was willing to bet that your attempted question was about the lesson prior. Ever since then he took it as a habit to ask if you - specifically - had any questions regarding homeroom discussions. You would cower in embarrassment, knowing that the root of his habit came from when you had asked him something he couldn’t even hear, nevertheless you found it in yourself to respond by nodding. At least now you didn’t have to muster up the courage to approach him since he would approach you instead. 

Anyway, it was already much apparent to him that you had a dilemma with your social life (if you ever even had one), and so he addressed this to the class once when you were called to the faculty to ‘discuss’ things with Present Mic, your English teacher (Aizawa just told him to keep you busy as he spoke to his class).

Most expressed their concern, especially when he said that this could affect your hero affiliation in times of inevitable joint cooperation or recruiting of sidekicks and whatnot. It was not necessarily their responsibility, Aizawa expounded, but if possible, then they should get you to interact with them as much. Mina was most resolved in getting to befriend someone like you, a little bit ahead of Izuku, who wanted to befriend you partly due to his curiosity of your quirk. The rest thought of this as a casual ordeal, and a few saw to it as a bothersome matter that could be handled by the social butterflies of the class. 

Well.

Being approached by Izuku and his friends was the least of your expectations when recess began. Usually, you’d prepare your own lunch to prevent having to go to the crowded place, and eat in peace inside the classroom with Aoyama who normally paid you no mind. He would give you a cheese or two, but it was nothing that you couldn’t deal with. Besides, the cheese actually tasted delicious. 

Izuku insisted you come with them to the cafeteria, and when you gave him only an anxious and weirded-out look, Uraraka saved you both from awkwardness by pushing you out of the classroom door - to which her touch you quivered at. In the corridors, Iida gave a lecture about how being with friends helped with your general health - you didn’t know whatever the hell he meant by that, because you weren’t even friends with them. Shoto kept giving you glances from time to time, and when you both met eyes, you were the first to break contact; he found himself smiling lightly in amusement. You ransacked your brain for excuses to avoid being around them, but before you knew it, you were urged to sit down on their usual table, where also Jirou, Momo, and Hagakure sat. You were on the corner of the table - across Izuku and beside Uraraka - overwhelmed and irate by the abrupt proceeding of things. This was coercion - they didn’t even ask if you were okay with it - and, quite frankly, a burst of your own personal bubble. You wanted out, but how could you, when you couldn’t even find it in yourself to stand up?

Their conversations were sundry; in any of them, you engaged in none. Even Shoto was more participative than normal in attempts to get you along. It was then when they realized they had not a single information about you. Hagakure didn’t even know your first name, as Aizawa only ever called you by your last, and when the rest of your classmates clarified it was ‘(y/n),’ she complimented it, as if it would help you be at ease around them.

“Oh, what a pretty name!” She exclaimed. “It kind of fits well with... (n/n)[nickname]. Can I call you (n/n)-chan? Like Tsuyu-chan!”

“...well,” you voiced out in the most minimal volume, and their happiness upon hearing your voice was sickeningly evident. You sighed, “sure.”

Even Iida dedicated himself to calling you that. That was okay, you thought, because it wasn’t like you would be spending almost all the time with them. Right; this was a one time thing. Never gonna happen again. You’d commit unalive before it could. 

But you didn’t commit fast enough.

By the time dismissal came you rushed out of the classroom and to the restroom to avoid meeting with Izuku and his friends just in case they also had plans on robbing you of your personal time in dismissal. You went to a restroom that was not on the floor level of class 1A - you were sure your female classmates would spend minutes upon minutes in there - and waited for thirty minutes. You literally counted 1,800 seconds in your mind as it was the only way to withhold the bubbling anxiety inside you without looking like an oddball, doing box-breathing techniques alone and all that - though some students from different classes were wondering why you remained on your spot in that restroom. 

Upon mentally saying the last second, you dashed out of the restroom and to the school building entrance, passing by your homeroom teacher on the way but not bothering to spare him a greeting. You hoped he would assume you just did not see him as you were brisk-walking. He would later on probably ask why you were still in school thirty minutes past dismissal.

U.A. dorms came to view and never had a bigger wave of relief washed over you. Today had been a hectic day, and you congratulated yourself for enduring the school hours that included socializing; perhaps you deserved a reward after all this. There was a quaint café a couple of minutes away from U.A., beside a convenience store; maybe you should try the sweets there on the weekend. No one knew about it, as it did not look like one, but that was why you decided to try it out. Small, tranquil, and picturesque - exactly what you needed.

Quietly, you opened the entrance door, and slipped in headfirst to see if you could go inside undetected. Unfortunately for you, you came in unexpected eye contact with Denki.

“(Y/n), hey!” He called from the dining area, smiling brightly. That was weird; you didn’t remember being first-name bases with him, and were disarrayed with the fact that he just greeted you when he normally wouldn’t. “Where’d you come from that you returned this late?”

“U-um, uh,” you looked down, “I... walked slowly...”

“Well you sure took your time. C’mere, Bakugou’s cooking.”

“I’m only doing it ‘cause you won’t shut up unless I do it, damn Pikachu!” Yelled the cook. 

This time, you just had to refuse. “N-no thanks, I’m... I’m busy.”

Just as you proceeded to stroll your way to your room, you came into an abrupt halt by Kirishima, who was sitting on the common room, waiting for Bakugou’s cooking.

“Busy with what?”

“Huh?”

“We have no homework given for the weekend.” He explained, looking at you from over the sofa. “So... what’s keeping you busy?”

At this point, not only was he the one to stare at you, but so were Denki and Bakugou, who skeptically raised a brow in anticipation of your answer; in anticipation of your presence in the common room, as if he was expecting that you’d try out his cooking, too. Shoto and Izuku ended their conversation at once upon seeing you by the dorm elevator, halted and wide-eyed, like a deer caught on headlights.

For your small, silent, anxiety-stricken self, this was too much.

“C-can you...” you pleaded, voice scarcely above a whisper, “can you not...”

You wanted to voice out if they could stop looking at you like that - surely they could, couldn’t they? You felt supremely inferior to their stares and it didn’t help that most of them were deemed a few of the strongest in the class. It felt like they were going to use their quirk on you and, against them, your quirk was rendered futile.

You ran to the opposite hallway, opting to walk the set of stairs to your dorm level in lieu of using the elevator. You heard Kirishima’s yell of your name - “(y/n), wait!” - but made no attempt to slow down for him to catch up to you. He didn’t follow you, anyway, only abruptly standing from the cushion when you made a run for it along the hall, then falling back down in defeat, with a sigh escaping his lips.

“Man, she’s like Amajiki-senpai but kind of worse.”

“Well?” Denki queried. “Aren’t you gonna go after her?”

“I want to, but I feel like she’ll just... ignore me.”

Denki sighed. “And you say you’re a man.”

“Hey, I am!” He slumped on the couch. “I just know the right timing, which isn’t now. Probably later, or when Mina’s around. Maybe she’s more comfortable with girls.”

That was a funny joke, because your anxiety doesn’t discriminate, and you were uncomfortable around boys and girls and nonbinaries and basically everyone and everything in and beyond the gender spectrum either way. 

You didn’t think of going out to fill your stomach before going to sleep, fearing the tension between you and your classmates who had witness the small encounter prior. By the time evening came, though, a knock was heard on your room’s entrance. You opened it begrudgingly, and in front of you appeared the face of the pinkette. Beside her was Kirishima.

“Hi, (y/n)!” Mina exclaimed brightly, much like how Denki had a few hours ago. “I know you haven’t eaten dinner yet. Come on!”

You were about to decline such a generous offer, but just then, your stomach churned in agreement against your will.

“...fine.”

As you three walked the corridor towards the stairs, Kirishima sauntered beside your form.

“Hey, uh, sorry about a while ago. I knew you weren’t comfortable with us but I still persisted with asking.”

He appeared to be genuinely sincere with the apology, with his palm on the back of his neck and eyes averting to everywhere but you, and the faint red on his cheek made him look less intimidating.

“It’s... it’s fine, you know.” Again, your voice was practically just an exhale. You turned the other way. “I’m sorry for running away like that. It was rude.”

Because of your consideration to apologize on your behalf, he found the confidence to grin at you without guilt. “It’s completely fine! At least now we’re on good terms, yeah?”

“Mm.”

This interaction didn’t stop you from preferring to be alone in your room. But you were hungry, and your stomach wasn’t relenting. As you sat on the corner of the sofa in the common room, Sero, with a grin, handed you your plate of [favorite dish].

“It’s your favorite food, right? Bakugou insisted to make it just for you.”

You slightly smiled at the thoughtfulness.

Then your face dropped in shock.

And so did the others’.

You blinked once, twice, then slowly looked at him in unnerved suspicion. “How did you know?”

“You sound like a stalker, Sero!” Denki whined abhorrently. “Freaking creep. Trust me, (y/n), it’s just that we noticed you always pack that for lunch. I got to say, though, I don’t blame you for liking [favorite dish].” He took a piece from your plate.

Alright, that sounded reasonable. Anything to keep you from the aching paranoia that they were actually watching what you did.

“And here I was trying to start things pleasant with (y/n).” Sero dramatically heaved, though somehow he still exuded this chilling vibe. It barely helped you with having to be around all these social butterflies. 

From the other side of the common room were Momo, Jirou, and Hagakure, who played with a bunny borrowed from Koda. It didn’t help you at all that they spotted you from your place in the sofa. 

“(N/n)-chan!” Along with your gaze, the rest of your classmates with you looked at them. “Wanna hold Koda’s pet rabbit? Right here!”

“No!” Yelled Mina right beside you, bringing a faint ring to your ears. You weren’t used to noise, having been always keeping to yourself. She brought you into a tight side embrace, and although she felt you tense under her hold, she ignored it for the sake of saying, “(y/n)’s staying here.”

“Unfair! You’ve had your share of time with her,” what? There was a planned time of when you were supposed to hang out with one group and the other? “now it’s our turn!”

“Please, you’ve had your time during recess! The rest of the night, she spends it with us.” Mina explained, nodding in agreement to herself. Her friends within her clique seemed to like the idea. Oh no. You did not want to spend the rest of your night with people you barely even knew. What would they do to you? Why were they being so revoltingly clingy all of a sudden? 

Again, you wanted out, pleading yourself to convene the courage to say that- 

“No, I don’t want to hang out with you, I just want to go back to the solace of my own room, just watch or read or sleep or anything else that won’t have anything to do with socializing with you all!”

Unfortunately, that was all just in your head.

“I don’t mean to intervene personally, but,” Momo started, promptly leaving her cup of tea on the table, “during recess, she talked mostly to Midoriya and Uraraka. I think it’s about time I get to be with her.”

“But I didn’t get to be with her at all.” Sero counterargued. “Therefore, she’s staying right here.”

Jirou derided, “As if she wants to get along with you. (Y/n), you wanna pet this rabbit or not?”

“Don’t bribe her with something that isn’t even yours!” Exclaimed Kirishima.

“Well, is she yours?”

“N-not at all, but neither is she yours!”

“(N/n)-chan, come here, pretty please?”

“I’m telling you! She's already comfortable here. See? All snug and comfy in my arms.”

“You’re not giving her a chance to decide where she wants to be!”

“Shut the hell up, you damn extras.” Bakugou’s voice, albeit neither soft nor strong in volume, was the loudest of them all. His presence was also the strongest and most intimidating, and you were unable to suppress the reflex to recoil when he leaned on you from behind the sofa, breathing practically against your neck. “(Y/n) stays here.”

The decision was determined from then on. Frustration was prominent on Momo and Jirou’s countenances, and Hagakure was silent for the rest of the night, going back to Koda’s room in order to return his pet rabbit. Mina moved you to the center of the couch so Bakugou could sit on your other side, and when he did, you felt the strong radiance of heatwaves from his body. He would be a perfect cuddler for the winter season. It always felt too cold or too hot whenever you were with people, but you refused to make a personal heater out of him.

“Alright!” From beneath you where he sat, Denki exclaimed. “Who’s up for a horror movie?”

It was not like you had much of a choice, anyway. Whether you loved it or not, a horror movie was being played in the common room’s television, and you had to sit throughout the whole two hours of it with all of Bakugou’s squad hovering around you. You weren’t sure what was scarier; the film, or the fact that discourse broke just a few minutes ago regarding whom you were ending up with. But if anything, you’d rather watch this alone than with these outlandish people claiming to be your friends and acting as if they didn’t ignore you and tend to their own business just yesterday.

[snackhobi]

pairing: taehyung x reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: fluff, friends to lovers, smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: you’re used to being in love with taehyung. you’ve had a lot of time to get good at it, after all—by this point you’re the world’s expert at keeping your less-than-platonic feelings hidden from him, what with the amount of practice you’ve had.

but then he signs up for a massage therapy course, because apparently you can never catch a break.

or: the one where taehyung gives you a full body massage and then some.

warnings: sexually explicit content, massage with a happy ending (literally 🤧), cursing, edible massage oil/lube, fingering (f), unprotected sex (be safe when you have sex please), multiple orgasms (f), oral sex (m), cum swallowing, pet names, body worship?, brief mention of shower sex

a/n: I swear this was meant to be pwp. this was literally meant to just be pwp with some massage shenanigans. and then I blinked and it had become a soft 13k fic which honestly… kicked my ass quite a bit. but I hope you enjoy it!! thank you as always to @hobi-gif​ for beta reading this and encouraging me and putting up with me changing this multiple times, what would I do without your support miss hope?

--

Taehyung goes through a lot of different phases.

He just finds so many things interesting. Photography, art, art history, music, fashion, thrift shopping; heck, there was even the time he got weirdly into making tea and became some sort of connoisseur, going through the whole rigmarole of buying the loose leaves and weighing them out, checking the temperature of the water, brewing for a precisely measured amount of time.

You still remember the look on his face when you said it all tasted like hot leaf water to you.

Because, of course, as one of Taehyung’s best friends and his roommate, you’re inevitably swept up in everything he does. You’re used to the weirdly acrid smell of photo development fluid and how cold dark rooms can get. You use phrases like chiaroscuro and sfumato to describe the simplest things after listening to Taehyung do the same for so long. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve tripped over his saxophone case when he leaves it lying around the apartment. You regularly wear the baggy t-shirt with the face that Taehyung had painted on it—even if you still refer to it as the Squidward-House-Shirt despite the fact you know he was inspired by Basquiet and Schiele and not the Easter Island themed stone head that Squidward lives in.

You don’t mind getting dragged along with whatever he does, honestly; you don’t have time to attend every class, but go with him when you can. It’s always good to expand your horizons. You also love watching Tae’s face whenever he learns something new, the various expressions that flit across his features—from wide eyed excitement and eyebrow raising astonishment to the more solemn side that appears whenever he’s taking something in and thinking deeply about it, turning it over in his mind, mulling on it.

(You love watching Tae’s face all the time, actually, but that’s a whole other can of worms you’d rather keep shut.)

However, the latest course he’s signed up for is not one you’d been expecting.

“Massage therapy?” Your face twists in equal parts confusion and surprise.

Taehyung’s dropped this latest nugget of information while you’re cooking, trying to fry some rice while also peering at the phone screen that’s been thrust into your face. You’re not bad at multitasking, per se, but Taehyung’s iPhone is drifting so close that you’re almost cross-eyed and it’s blocking you from seeing what’s going on in the pan. 

“I had a coupon,” he says, as if that explains everything. (It doesn’t.)

“Scooch,” you say, and he immediately moves so you can turn the gas off.

“Jiminie and Jungkookie say that my massages help with dance, and that's just from Youtube tutorials.” Taehyung continues to talk as you bustle around the tiny kitchen. He’s already set the table so now he’s free to watch you finish doing the rest of the work. “And Joon-hyung says I have the perfect hands for it.”

You fumble with the pan as you’re scooping the steaming rice into a large bowl, only just managing to save food from scattering everywhere. You’ve thought about Taehyung’s hands a lot, about how large and long fingered and beautiful they are, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Really? Huh. That’s nice.” You stare at the pan, fixated on getting every grain of rice so you can avoid looking at Taehyung’s face. And hands. Which are still cupped around his phone. Which looks so small in his big, pretty grip.

Jesus Christ.

“It means I can give you massages if you ever start to get tense.” Taehyung sounds pleased, lovely grin on his face at the prospect of being able to rub his hands over you. As if that isn’t going to make every single one of your muscles lock up and turn you into some sort of coiled rope of a human being, which is the complete opposite of what a massage is supposed to achieve. 

“Great.” Despite your inner turmoil, your voice is level and steady as you meticulously scrape the last grain of rice into the bowl, chasing the tiny fleck of white around the huge pan. Scrape, scrape, scrape. “Sounds fabulous. Can’t wait.”

Of course Taehyung would sign up to learn something that he could use to help his friends. He’s so big-hearted and loving. Big-hearted and loving and kind and funny and affectionate and beautiful and deep-voiced and so entirely overwhelming in every single way imaginable. 

You do what you always do when confronted yet again with your all-consuming crush—you bottle that shit the fuck up until he’s not in the room.

And then you have a miniature breakdown at Pickles.

“I am going to die,” you whisper-scream. “He’s going to offer to massage me and he’s going to get a bottle of massage oil out and he’s going drizzle it onto his massive hands and I am going to fucking die.”

The bearded dragon cocks his head as he stares at you. Taehyung had come home with the reptile one day, tank and all, saying that someone on Facebook had been giving him away because they were moving house and could they just look after him for a little while, please, pretty please? Until they found a good home for him? Please?

That was over a year ago. (You’ve always been bad at saying no to Taehyung.)

“I hate my life,” you lament to the lizard, but then you hear the noisy flush of the toilet and know that Taehyung is going to emerge from the bathroom soon, so you have to wrap this miniature meltdown up pronto. “I wish I was a bearded dragon too, you know. All you do is get fed and sit under the heat bulb. Your life is so easy. You don’t even know what capitalism is.”

The silence you get from Pickles is far more support than you get from your human friends once you tell them. Yoongi just raises his eyebrows while Seokjin and Hoseok laugh outright in your face, just like they always do when you cry to them about Taehyung.

You need new friends. These ones are defective. (If only you’d kept the receipt so you could return them.)

“We learned how to do neck and shoulder massages today!” Taehyung says brightly after the first session.

You hum in response. You’re rewatching Pacific Rim together, cuddled up against Taehyung’s side, and you don’t have to turn your head to know what expression is on his face. There’ll be that little upturn to his lips, happiness at learning something new. That warmth in his eyes at being able to share it with you, even if you couldn't be there with him. Those little freckles on his face, under his eye, his nose, his lip; the one you’ve imagined kissing more times than you can count.

“My teacher says I have a natural talent with my hands,” he adds, and you’re so grateful that you can blame your sudden intake of breath on the scene that’s playing on the screen, as high stakes as it is. 

“That’s nice,” you say, and mentally pat yourself on the back at keeping the strain out of your voice. You've had a lot of practice at this. “I’m not surprised, though. You’ve always been good at doing things with them.”

That’s not a euphemism. Taehyung’s always so careful when he makes things; you’d learned how to fold different origami patterns together, matching crane for crane, lotus for lotus, and he’d always been so delicate with his fingers. He’s always so careful and considerate with you, too, fingers splayed wide across your shoulder as he squeezes you closer to his side, leaving you breathless.

“I wish you could come too.” Taehyung sounds disappointed. “We always have so much fun together.”

For the first time in your life you’re grateful that your manager at Olive Chicken is such a hardass and won’t let you swap shifts, so you’d had to miss signing up for the massage course with Taehyung—because you know there’s no way you’d be able to keep it together if there was some sort of tandem practice in class or whatever. Your crush on him is filled with equal parts of tenderness and lust and you’re well aware of that. You’d rest your hands on the soft skin of Taehyung’s shoulders and back, the lust would overwhelm you, and you’d immediately burst into flames like some sort of demon stepping over the threshold of a church. 

Why oh why did God have to make Kim Taehyung so hot?

Why oh why did God have to make you so… not?

You know Taehyung doesn’t see you in a romantic light at all. You’re grateful for this deep, platonic relationship you have, and you love him to pieces, but holy hell is it hard to walk around with Kim Taehyung looking the way he does and wanting to jump his bones while simultaneously being aware that it’s never going to happen. Whenever he smiles at you, or touches you, or holds you, it’s in exactly the same way as he treats any of his friends—and as happy as you are to be one of those friends, it also kind of kills you inside. 

(Because you know you don’t have a chance, have never had a chance, and will never have a chance.)

The idea of offering to massage Taehyung is one that makes you want to melt into a puddle of horny goo. But when he offers to massage you, it’s because you’re a convenient practice partner who he’s comfortable with. It’s no big deal. You could strip naked and slather yourself up in oil and stand in front of him with your bosoms heaving and say ‘Have at me, big boy’ and Taehyung would say: ‘Sweet! A chance to practice deep tissue massage! Gee, thanks for being such a great pal!’

The kind of deep tissue you want Taehyung to massage is very different to whatever he’s talking about.

… Anyway.

You manage to avoid Taehyung using his apparently magic fingers on you for a surprising amount of time, though you’re kept up to date with his progress, because he shares everything with you and tells you about everything and you always, always listen. Because, more than being your crush, he’s one of your best friends and you love him.

Which is why you try your best to be gentle, graciously refusing his offer of a shoulder massage after he sees you wincing, even if with anyone else you’d just tell them to back off with zero hesitation.

“It’s fine,” you say, flapping a hand at him. “I just slept on it funny.”

“A massage would help! It won’t take long, I promise. Five minutes? Please?” 

Taehyung’s looking at you with those big puppy eyes of his, pleading. You waver. You’re torn between being steadfast and avoiding a situation you’ve literally had nightmares about (Taehyung had offered to massage you, and you’d said yes, but then you’d fallen over as you were walking to him and suddenly a lasagne had appeared in your hands and you’d spilled it all down your shirt and he’d pointed and laughed and laughed and you’d felt so embarrassed that you’d woken up, cheeks burning), but then he pouts and you give in like the spineless and lovesick fool that you are.

“Five minutes,” you say, and Taehyung nods emphatically, looking pleased.

(You have the backbone of a chocolate éclair.)

You send quiet thanks to whatever God is listening when he doesn’t ask you to take your top off and doesn’t break out a bottle of scented oil. Instead he just asks for you to straddle a chair, clutching a plushie against your chest to cushion where it leans against the backrest, and tells you to get comfy.

“Just relax,” he says, as you desperately try to remember how your body works and coax it to relax like Taehyung wants you to. You fail miserably. You feel like a ball of rubber bands, each muscle a layer of tighter and tighter elastic that’s circled around you. “Lean forwards a little?”

At least Taehyung can’t see your face from this angle. You have no idea what sort of expression is twisting your features; consternation and horrified anticipation, probably. You're basically throttling your plushie, taking out your tension and frustration on the poor thing, Rilakkuma's placid face morphing into a twisted expression of sympathy under your grasping fingers.

“Perfect,” Taehyung says. The sound of praise in his deep voice has your insides turning into overheated syrup, hot and thick, dripping down and pooling between your legs. You hate yourself. Getting turned on by the most innocuous words from your best friend, really? Get it together.

The second you feel Taehyung's warm hands touch the back of your neck, your shoulders hunch up faster than a whiplash, a turtle sucking its head into its shell. Your friend laughs.

“This is the opposite of relaxing,” he says, voice warm with amusement. 

“You surprised me.” You dig your nails into Rilakkuma's soft brown fur. Taehyung just thinks you're not used to being massaged, not that you're being weird because it's him that's touching you. Because he touches you a lot. He’s just never done it like this. “Sorry.”

“It's fine,” he replies, unruffled and oblivious. “Let me try again?”

You bite your lip, desperately trying to quell the mix of arousal and tension that’s churning in your stomach, begging your muscles to unwind. You’ve kept your crush a secret from him for this long, you can keep that energy up. (You have to keep that energy up.) “Um. Okay.”

You’re still tense when Taehyung puts his hands on you again. The touch is warm through your clothes, firm but careful, digging into the sharp line of tension laid across your shoulders; despite the way your heart is threatening to launch itself out of your chest, you start to loosen up, because holy shit that feels nice, actually.

You melt against Rilakkuma and smother the bear's face in your chest. “Your teacher wasn’t kidding when they said that you’re good with your hands,” you mumble. 

You’ve never gotten a proper massage before but it feels so damn good that you can’t help but unwind, turning to jelly at the confident presses of Taehyung’s fingers and palms into the soft skin between your neck and shoulder. A little sigh spills past your lips when Taehyung starts to work at the part that’s been twinging after you lay crookedly on it, limbs akimbo in your sleep after a long night at work. “Oh, right there, Tae.”

Taehyung goes still for just a second before continuing, trailing his fingers over your shirt. “Here?”

Your eyes have drifted shut so you can focus on the sensation of that tension being pulled out of your body. “Yeah, right there,” you repeat, massaged into a state of lazy euphoria. The breath you let out is long and deep, catching in the back of your throat at a particularly firm rub of Taehyung’s hands; if you weren’t so blissed out you might be embarrassed at how much the noise you make is like a moan, but as it is, you don’t even notice. You just let out a little sound of discontent when Taehyung’s fingers stutter in their motions, displeased that he’s stopped even for a second.

By the time the massage is over, you’re so relaxed that you feel like you could melt into the floor, a wobbly puddle of unwound muscles and loose limbs. It’s official. You’re a massage convert.

“Holy shit.” Your eyes flutter open as you lean away from Rilakkuma so you can turn around. They’re the first coherent words you’ve spoken for a while; small sighs and sounds have been dripping from your lips and it’s only now that you’re able to regain your breath. “Tae, that was amazin—”

You’re met with the sight of Taehyung’s back as he power walks away, steps rapid, a little shaky, awkward. Before you can ask what’s wrong, he’s stepping into the bathroom. 

“I need to wash my hands,” he says without looking at you, before the door slams shut.

You don’t remember Tae telling you about how quickly you have to wash your hands after finishing a massage. But, thinking about it, you suppose it makes sense—you know, with massaging multiple clients or whatever—even if it’s surprising exactly how fast he’d hoofed it away from you. It sounds like he’s switched both taps on full blast as well, noisy even through the wooden door, and judging from how long he’s in there, he’s being very thorough. Hand washing must be a lot more important than you’d realised. 

Once Taehyung emerges, his face is a little flushed, cheeks a soft red. You wonder if the hot water tap is playing up again and filling your dinky bathroom with hot steam, and make a mental note to look into it. You smile at Taehyung from your perch on the sofa, Rilakkuma plopped on your lap, smile spread across your features; one that Taehyung returns, as pink-faced as he is.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?”

“So much better, honestly,” you admit. It’s incredible. He hasn’t even finished the course yet and he's already this good. He really does have magic hands.

“I’ll have to give you massages more often,” Taehyung says, though the end of the sentence trembles a little. He must be light-headed after all the steam in the bathroom.

The thought of more massages doesn’t fill you with as much mind-numbing trepidation as it might have earlier, utterly languid as you flop across the sofa, muscles uncoiled after the lovely touch of Taehyung’s even lovelier hands. No wonder people rave about spa days if they leave you feeling like this. Maybe if you’d been staring at Taehyung in the eye when he’d been touching you, then you’d feel a lot more awkward—as it is, it’s no worse than usual. Your crush is still all-encompassing but you also got a massage out of it, so.

“Sounds great.” This time you don’t even have to fake your excitement. “Now come sit your butt down so we can order some takeout and decide what to watch.”

When you bend down to speak to Pickles later, the bearded dragon is lolling on his favourite branch. “There’s still a high chance that I’m going to die,” you say in a low voice, before you flick the lights off so the lizard can sleep. “But he hasn’t broken out the oils yet, so I think I’ll be okay for now.”

--

Your luck doesn’t last.

“Strawberry and champagne, lychee martini, mint mojito, white chocolate, or tropical coconut?”

You look up from where you’re painting your toenails. “Huh?”

Taehyung bundles into the room and throws himself onto your bed, flopping on his belly and ignoring the way the mattress is jostled. You, of course, are used to his antics, which is why you’d swept your open bottle of nail polish up before he could spill it everywhere.

“What do you think sounds best?”

“Well, that depends,” you say, squinting at your toes and carefully sweeping the polish over the freshly buffed nails. “For candles, I think they sound pretty nice. For sauces to pour over a steak, I’d say I’d give them all a hard pass. What’s it for?”

“Massage oils,” Taehyung says blithely, too busy staring at his phone to see you muffle a curse when your hand slips and you paint your entire little toe blue. “I was wondering which you think sounds best.”

“Oh. Uh.” You fumble to clean your toe and salvage the now-terrible pedicure you’re trying to give yourself. It was only a matter of time before massage oils were going to become part of your life. Taehyung never goes into things half-hearted, so of course he’s going to invest in oils, too. God’s sake. You can never catch a break, can you? “Why these ones in particular?”

Taehyung pauses for a suspiciously long time, but it gives you the chance to furiously rub at your toe while he’s distracted. “We get a free bottle from the course,” he says eventually.

Huh. Okay. “That’s pretty neat. What was the last one? Coconut? Stick with the basics, can’t go wrong with that, right?”

“Coconut is always tasty,” Taehyung comments absently, and you glance up from your Smurf toe.

“Agreed, but it’s not like you’re about to eat massage oil, are you?”

Taehyung pauses, and then buries his face into his phone screen—suddenly very intent on rereading the list of ingredients in each bottle, it seems. “No, of course not, you’re right,” he mumbles.

He’s almost finished the course. He’s not going to be an accredited masseuse or anything, but you definitely think he could be, if he wanted to—you’ve never had less tension in your shoulders and neck in your life. Taehyung always eases his way into your personal space anyway, casual and effortless after years of friendship, but now you’re used to his fingers sliding over the back of your neck, a gliding touch, sending tense little goosebumps over your skin while simultaneously making you melt. 

“It’s pretty cool that you get free stuff, though.” Your toe is clean, thankfully, no longer blue. “And not just, like, a generic bottle of oil or something. They all sound really fancy. I didn’t realise that you could get massage oils that were scented like that?”

Taehyung makes a non-committal noise, which is uncharacteristic of him, but you’re too focused on repainting your final nail to pay it too much mind, letting out a loud huff of triumph when you’re done.

“Get me a bag of shrimp crackers, please?” You have a sudden craving but you don’t want to penguin waddle to the kitchen and risk getting anything on your wet nails. “Ya girl is hungry.”

“Got it.” Taehyung rolls off the bed without protest. You’re used to his antics, and he’s used to yours, indulging you whenever you feel lazy or want him to do something for you. “You need me to feed you?”

“I wasn’t going to use my toes to feed myself,” you laugh, but Taehyung ends up feeding them to you anyway.

When you recount the list to Seokjin later, his face crumples in a way that’s equal parts offended and disgusted. “They all sound terrible,” he says. “White chocolate should stay in chocolate form and not be turned into an oil. Why does massage oil even have to smell like anything?”

You’re both holed up in the tiny smoking nook behind Olive Chicken; neither of you smoke, but it’s a good excuse to go outside and get fresh air during longer shifts. 

“Hey, don’t ask me, I’m not the one who’s taking the course. I think lychee martini sounds interesting, though.”

“Agree to disagree.” Seokjin unwraps one of the complimentary chocolates the restaurant gives to diners with their bill, swallowing it whole. “Besides, we all know Taehyung could approach you with dirty, used fryer oil and you’d let him dip you in it.”

You slap the next chocolate out of his hand before it reaches his mouth. He’s unmoved and simply plucks another from his pocket, which is apparently bulging with them.

“Yoongichi,” Jin says, calling to the delivery boy, who’s just appeared from the dark like some tired-eyed spectre of fried chicken. “Tell me this. If I were to ask you what smell of massage oil you’d prefer, what—”

“I would say that I really could not care less.” Yoongi flops down on one of the rickety fold-out chairs before silently accepting a chocolate from Seokjin’s stash. “And then I’d ask why you’re asking me in the first place, seeing as you’re the one using it, not me. If Taehyung’s asking what massage oil you’d prefer, Y/n, it’s because he wants to rub it all over you specifically.” Yoongi munches on the chocolate, already filling in the blanks without needing to be told the context. You really are that transparent, huh. “Please, we’ve been over this.”

Jin pouts. “You ruined my set up. I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Oh no.” Yoongi remains blank-faced. “How terrible.”

“I hate both of you,” you say. “I’m going to tell Pickles how mean you are.”

“I bet if that lizard could talk, he’d tell you how tired he was of you two dancing around each other, just like the rest of us,” Yoongi says.

There’s no dancing around, though, no matter what your friends say. Well. Not on Taehyung’s end anyway. You’re out here doing the fandango, castanets and all, while Taehyung just stands stock still, oblivious.

You let out an incredibly long sigh. Seokjin hands you a sympathetic chocolate.

The massage oil doesn’t make an appearance in your life for a little while, though. The end of the course comes and goes, Taehyung proudly flapping the laminated certificate at you, wobble-wobble-wobble, filling the apartment with the sound of rippling plastic. But no coconut oil.

The scent of ‘tropical coconut’ has started to haunt your dreams, in a way that’s both good and bad; when you wake up in a sweat, heart pounding, it’s not because you’re having nightmares, let’s just put it like that. It’s like there’s an invisible countdown that you can’t trace and it’s only a matter of time before it ticks over and the shoulder massages (that you’ve gotten very comfortable with) edge into something different. Taehyung’s going to innocently offer to give you a backrub and uncap that bottle of scented oil and you’re going to explode into a mess of putty under his hands.

Well… then again… you had been worried about that with all the shoulder rubs. Now look at you. You weather those like a champ. Sure, your skin tingles and you run hot and you think about the sensation of Taehyung’s hands gliding over you whenever you’re alone, but you’re basically fine. Your friend who just so happens to also be the great love of your life remains none the wiser.

You bet a full back rub would feel great after a long week.

Which is why when Taehyung steps into the apartment with a look on his face that you immediately recognise as tiredness, you sort of wish you knew how to massage people, too.

He falls into your arms with little fanfare. It’s been one of those days, one of those ones that everyone gets, even Taehyung—he’s usually so Switched On and Exuberant and Alive, and people don’t seem to realise that even he feels exhausted, sometimes.

“You alright, bubs?” You can’t massage him but you can rub his back soothingly, let him snuffle against your neck. Sometimes you think about that little space between your chin and collarbones as Taehyung’s, a hollow that’s perfect for him to press his face into, hair tickling your chin as he curls up into you. His and his alone. “Did something happen?”

He just shakes his head.

“Okay,” you say.

(Close proximity and skin on skin with Taehyung doesn’t always have your pulse rising and your heart racing. Sometimes it’s just this: quiet and soft, your heart bright with fierce affection for this boy, the only thought in your mind that you want him to be happy, forever.)

The long silence is broken by the sound of Taehyung heaving in a breath before letting out a long, exhausted sigh. 

“Thank you.” His voice is quiet and low, far less energetic than his usual self.

“Nothing to thank me for, Tae,” you reply. “Always here for you. You know that, right?”

He doesn’t respond straight away. He just burrows closer, draped over you, until he murmurs, barely audible. “Why?”

Your face twists. “Why, what? Why am I always here for you?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung squeezes himself impossibly closer, skin warm against yours, forehead pressed to the skin of your neck. You can’t see his expression from this angle.

“Because you’re one of my best friends and I love you,” you answer, immediately. You don’t even have to think about it. “Because you’re important to me and if there’s anything I can do for you, I will. I’ll celebrate the good things in your life with you, and I’ll be at your side during the bad times, just like you are with me. Please don’t ever forget how much I love you, okay?”

There’s a pause, and then it feels like all the tension leaves Taehyung’s body, slumping his whole body weight against you. “Okay,” he murmurs. “I love you too. Thank you,” he says again. You just reply by squeezing his shoulders.

He’s a little quieter for a few days after that. You’re not sure why, because he’d perked up after a lazy evening of lying around and eating too many snacks, flopped against you like an oversized, clinging starfish—but you’re gentle with him nonetheless. 

(Well. You’re always gentle with him. It just takes you half a second to fold in the face of his whims, rather than a whole, full second.)

So when the dreaded bottle of oil finally appears, you’re far less ready to fight off Taehyung’s insistence on a full body massage, caught off guard after days of indulging him. Fuck. 

“You’ve had a long week!” Taehyung insists as you scrabble your way over the sofa’s backrest so you can hide behind it, clutching a cushion to your chest. “You need to relax!”

Without looking you fling the cushion over the sofa. Judging from the fact that Taehyung doesn’t make a sound, you’ve missed. “I was feeling perfectly relaxed until you started yelling at me about it! Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me being relaxed?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond. Oh, crap. Maybe you did hit him with the cushion?

You pop up from behind the sofa. Nope. It's an embarrassing distance away from Taehyung, who’s got that surprisingly large bottle of oil held loosely in his hands. There’s an expression on his face that you can’t decipher; a little crestfallen, a little unsure, but there’s something else there, too, something you can’t put a name to.

“Taehyung?”

“I just… wanted to help,” he says. “You’re always there for me when I’m not feeling great, and you calm me down, and I wanted to do the same for you.”

You immediately feel like the worst human being alive. Take the feeling you get whenever you accidentally step on an animal’s tail, multiply it by infinity, and that’s only just a drop in the ocean of awful, awful guilt that you’re drowning in. 

“Oh, Tae,” you say. Your voice comes out so much softer and sweeter than you mean it to, but you can't help it. “I’m sorry. I was just joking. It’s really nice of you to be so concerned. You just surprised me. You do help me relax and your massages are great.” (You tell him that often enough that he should know it, but it never hurts to repeat a compliment.)

His face lifts. It’s like the sun bursting forth from the clouds after heavy rain, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes, blinded by the brightness and beauty. Kim Taehyung is so unfairly gorgeous (but what else is new?). “So I can give you a massage?”

Despite the fact the prospect makes you want to fling yourself into space, when you’re faced with Taehyung’s dark eyes and wide smile and large, warm hands, you cave, because of course you do. If, way back when you’d first been frying up that kimchi rice and letting Taehyung thrust his phone into your face, you’d been told you’d end up in this position, you would have laughed outright. Haha, yeah, sure, like you’d be stupid enough to let yourself be wrangled into such a vulnerable state in front of Taehyung, nowhere to run, helpless under his fingers. Not.

But here you are. Whipped for Kim Taehyung, forever and always.

The pastel blue towels under your stomach and chest are soft as they shield you from the cold, hard floor. You’re incredibly aware of how chilly the apartment feels, air prickling against your bare skin; you shift to try and get comfortable, glancing over your shoulder to fiddle with the towel that’s draped over your hips and ass, making sure it’s covering everything. Taehyung insists on authenticity (as if you’re not lying on the floor of your apartment rather than on a massage table) and he says that it’s normal to be completely naked for a full-body massage, even underneath any towels that are covering you up.

Authenticity is also why he’s in the other room, warming up the massage oil, because that’s apparently a thing?

(You’re going to die.)

It doesn’t matter that Taehyung will only be able to see the back of your head, your shoulder blades, the small of your back, a slip of your thighs, your calves. None of these things are especially scandalous; all the parts of your body that someone might find more interesting are out of sight, pressed against the floor or hidden under a layer of Egyptian cotton microfibres. 

And yet you can’t help but be hyperaware of how you’re entirely unclothed. Even if it doesn’t bother Taehyung—what with, you know, the fact he’s not interested in you like that and doesn’t find you attractive at all (sigh)—embarrassment creeps hot and uncomfortable under your skin.

It just feels so crazy intimate to be laid out like this, even if people do this all the time, happily strip down to let professionals rub the tension out of their body. 

(Then again, most people aren’t best friends with their masseuses and haven’t harboured long, one-sided crushes on them, either.)

Just breathe. You can do this. You love the shoulder massages that Taehyung’s been giving you; just think of this as a shoulder massage. 

… A shoulder massage that involves warm oil, near-nakedness, and Taehyung’s hands sliding all over you.

… You are going to have a very long venting session with Pickles after all this.

You’re so distracted by your own self pity and distress that you don’t register the sound of Taehyung entering the room; the little pause when he steps over the threshold, feet stuttering, just for a moment. It’s only when he’s kneeling down that you notice his presence, body jolting from surprise before you let out a slip of high laughter.

“Jesus, Tae,” you say. In any other circumstance, you’d be clutching your chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He sounds genuinely apologetic.

Your cheek is pillowed on your arms. When you turn to look at your best friend you immediately regret it; he’s settled back on his ankles, knees spread wide, and you come eye-to-eye with his crotch.

In an effort to look away from his clothed dick, your gaze flies up to his face, which might be even worse. He has this intense look in his eyes, and wow, alright, you’ve never been able to see Taehyung’s face as he’s been massaging you, but you never realised exactly how seriously he seems to take it, judging from his expression.

(Do all massage therapists look like that when they work?)

“That’s alright.” You’re a little breathless, but you’re going to blame that on how your boobs are smooshed into the floor, and not on anything else, nuh uh. Shoulder massage. It’s a shoulder massage. It’s just like a full bodied shoulder massage. (Maybe if you repeat it to yourself often enough then you’ll actually start to believe it.) “Uh. Do you need me to… do anything? Or do I just lie here?”

Taehyung’s expression lightens a little at the uncertainty in your tone, smile curling up the corners of his mouth. “You’re perfect right where you are,” he says, and then he reaches for the bottle of oil.

You turn your head away again, cheeks burning. There’s no way you’ll be able to handle the visual of him slicking his fingers and palms up. “Cool,” you say, voice only a little strained. “Coolcoolcoolcool.”

(It’s not cool.)

You don’t have a visual, but you do get the auditory experience thanks to the relative silence in the apartment. Goosebumps ripple down the back of your neck and trail down your spine at the sound of Tae’s hands sliding against each other, thoroughly coated in the warmed oil, and you’re so glad that you can blame it on the chill in the air.

At first, it’s okay. Taehyung starts at the parts of your body that are used to receiving his attention, though it’s different without the barrier of clothing in the way, not to mention how easily his palms glide over you, the air full of the light scent of coconut. It’s different, but manageable, and you think you just might be okay; as always, his touches are firm but careful, and your body is used to this by now, relaxing.

But. The second you feel Taehyung’s touch between your shoulder blades, you stiffen with a shiver. The oil is the perfect temperature against your skin, but you’ve always had a sensitive back; you can’t help but clench your fists, digging your fingers into your palms. Relax. Just breathe. 

“You’ve got a lot of tension here.” Taehyung’s voice is low as he digs the heel of his palm into the dip of your spine.

It’s because you’re touching me there, you think to yourself, but just let out a non-committal hum of agreement instead. 

You feel Taehyung's hands, a repeated sliding motion between your shoulder blades; the tension starts to leak out of you again, but your breath hitches in your throat at how you're pressed downwards and into the cotton towels beneath you, nipples hardening against them.

Thank God you're on your front so Tae can't see what effect he's having on you.

“Better?”

Taehyung's voice is always deep, but you'd swear it was even deeper in this moment, pitched low. Maybe that’s because the sound of blood pumping is filling your ears so it’s hard to discern. At this point, who even knows? Not you, that’s for sure.

“Yep.” Why are you so breathless? You haven’t moved at all, but you sound like you’ve just run the 100m sprint, winded and weak. “So much better.”

You regret agreeing to this. You are so out of your depth and there’s no way you’re going to be able to hide exactly how much this is affecting you and you want to collapse in on yourself and shrivel up like a sundried tomato, tiny and wrinkly and underwhelming. 

Taehyung shifts to reach more of you and you squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t come face first with his crotch again, shielding yourself from the view of his loose linen trousers stretched almost taut with how wide his knees are. It’s both a blessing and a curse—a blessing because you’re saved from aforementioned view, but a curse because your sensation of touch is heightened, and all you’re aware of is his hands sliding down your sides. You’d swear those fingers were so long he could circle your waist with ease.

(Massages are meant to relax you and yet you’ve never felt so tense in your life.)

Taehyung clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “I can’t get a good angle like this,” he mutters.

Before you can think anything or say anything, you become aware of the sound of moving and shifting and—

Your eyes fly open. Taehyung’s straddling your thighs, heavy and warm, and you suck in a breath so sharp and fast you can feel your chest expand, brain full of the screaming clang of warning bells. There’s no way this is a normal masseuse thing. There’s no way. It’s intimate and entirely too physical and there’s absolutely no way that this is something Taehyung learned in class. 

(What is he doing?)

But then any coherent thought in your brain slips when his hands settle on you again.

They so, so lightly brush the hem of the towel that preserves your modesty, and you can’t help the full-body shiver that wracks through you. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down the noise that threatens to bubble up in your throat. There’s the sensation of fingers trailing up the line of your spine, feather light, smoothed by the slide of oil, and you feel like molten lava, burning hot and bright.

“Taehyung.” Your voice is high and faint.

His fingers splay down your ribcage and run down your sides, confident and smooth, warm with that coconut-scented oil, and you’re dying, you’re living; you want to disappear, you never want this to end. 

“Taehyung,” you repeat. Your voice shakes.

He hums, low and indulgent. “Yes?”

“M-my thighs,” you stammer, unable to articulate yourself. Why are you on my thighs, oh God, you’re so warm and heavy on top of me, oh God oh God oh God.

Taehyung completely misunderstands you. “Oh? Of course.” He sounds nonchalant. “I’ll massage those next.”

You can feel the drag of his linen trousers against your skin as he moves down to rest on your calves, and hear the bottle open as Taehyung drizzles more oil over his hands, far more than he could possibly need. His palms feel so broad and warm against the smoothness of your thighs, touches firm and confident as he digs his fingers into the muscle, and, oh, fuck, this is, this is too much—

Your legs jump when Taehyung hitches the towel up, just a little, baring more of your body.

“Fuck.” You can't keep quiet any longer. “Tae, I’m fine, I’m feeling way less tense now.”

He’s still, for a moment, before his hands slide up the back of your thighs. “Are you sure? You want me to stop?”

It’s only then that you realise how deeply Taehyung is breathing, fast and low, voice rough and gravelled. His fingers rest in wait, warm and slick with oil; you’re so close to losing any modicum of modesty, only one motion away from that towel being rucked high enough that there’s nothing protecting you from Taehyung’s touch and eyes.

“I haven’t finished yet, though,” he continues, digging his thumbs into your skin as he pulls his hands down your thighs, mindlessly following the motions he’s been taught. “There’s still more to go.”

You could twist around to look at him but you’re almost afraid to look at his face, afraid of what you’d find there. He sounds as affected as you are, but there’s absolutely no way. There’s no way.

“You don’t need to do the whole massage if I’m feeling relaxed, right?” 

(Because you’re feeling so relaxed right now, of course, and not like you’re about to go supernova and burst into heat and light. Absolutely.)

(But.)

(But. Taehyung’s hands settle at the back of your knees, swiping the sensitive skin with his thumbs. You can’t see his face, but you can feel something in that touch, something more than skin deep, like it’s sinking into you, through skin and muscle and bone, in in in, settling inside you, a flicker of—of—)

“Want to do this perfectly for you,” he murmurs. You clench your hands at the husky note in his voice, nails digging so hard into your palms it hurts. “You deserve the best. I want you to feel good.”

He must be able to see your back rise and fall as you breathe in sharply.

“Taehyung.” Almost pleading. 

“Yes, love?”

You suck in another sharp breath. The pet name sounds so soft and sweet in his mouth, somehow, even with the heated edge to his voice. One that’s definitely there. You’re not imagining it. 

(You’re not.)

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” he continues.

Before you can think, you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”

You’re trembling. Taehyung’s still heavy and warm across the back of your calves, sliding one hand to the inside of a knee and up the soft skin of your inner thighs. You instinctively shift them apart, as far as you can with Taehyung trapping your legs, and, oh, his hand is going higher, oh—

His hand is so big, cupping your overheated sex. It’s hard to tell where the oil ends and your own arousal begins, flushed wet and hot; when he dips his middle finger between your lower lips, long and gentle and firm, you let out a noise you didn’t realise you were capable of. The angle is off, a little awkward, the motions of Taehyung’s fingers stifled by how you’re lying flush to the ground, but God, you’re so turned on it barely matters.

You’re hyperaware of everything. The soft touch of air on the cooling oil across your skin. The fall of the towel, bunched around your waist, slowly slipping to one side. Taehyung’s hand, his fingertips easing through the heat of you, sliding over your clit, over your entrance, slow and soft and amazing. 

“Again,” you plead. “Again, Tae, please.”

“Feels good?” He asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod, cheek still pillowed against your arm.

“So good,” you say. “But I want more, please, Tae.”

“Anything you want,” he murmurs.

Taehyung’s hand shifts between your legs again, so hot, so big, so reverent. The slide is smooth as his fingers press into your folds, practically gliding. You twist beneath him, letting out a noise of displeasure when he draws his hand away, but then he lifts off your calves. You let him thrust your legs apart before he resettles between them.

Just as you’re distracted with the towel being tugged away from your hips, baring you entirely, Taehyung slides a finger into your weeping cunt.

You whine. It's so long. Now that your calves aren’t trapped, there’s nothing to stop you from rutting back against his fingers. He splays his other hand over the soft flesh of your ass, encouraging the rolling motion of your hips, and you’re gasping, wanton in your noises of desire and pleasure. One finger becomes two, and then three, Taehyung’s voice a low undercurrent to your stuttered moans as he presses them as deep as he can.

“Just like that, angel,” he breathes. “Want you to feel good, keep making those pretty noises, let me know how good it is—”

“Taehyung,” you whine, dragging the syllables of his name out when he curls his fingers inside you, so amazing, hitting you in all the right places.

“Baby.” He sounds wrecked, words sliding together, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “You’re so hot n’ wet, fuck. So perfect. Just like that, keep moving like that.”

You can hear the slick sounds of his thrusts into you. He’s already learned what you like, twisting his fingers in a way that leaves you breathless; they’re so fucking long, sliding into your greedy cunt with ease, reaching so much deeper than your own can. His pretty lovely hands are on you, inside you, and you’re heady at the thought.

“There, Tae, don’t stop, please, p-please.” The coil twists tighter in between your legs, a taut thread that’s ready to snap. He listens, repeating the motion that’s pulling you closer to the edge, eyes wide, staring at the way you’re writhing underneath him; the way the oil on your back and legs shimmers in the light, the evidence of his touch all over you, shining. “Tae, oh, God, right there, yes, yes, yes—”

Your entire body goes tense and then you’re cumming around Taehyung’s fingers, clenching your thighs together, trapping him inside as you buck your hips. You grind back against his hand, a loud moan falling from your lips, drowning out the noise of awe that Taehyung makes when he feels your walls pulsate around him. You're warm and tight and wet, arousal flooding thick against his skin, and he lets out a stuttered groan, fingers buried knuckle deep inside you, feeling every wave of pleasure that rocks through your core.

You’re panting by the time you settle back down and barely make a sound when Taehyung drags his fingers out of you. When he leans down the oil on your skin feels tacky against his clothes, material sticking to you, chest to back, hips to ass. You can feel the hot curve of him through his trousers, his cock heavy, getting harder—and it feels sososo good.

Taehyung’s face is so close, now, chin hooked over your shoulder. Even though you can feel the hardness of his cock pressed against you, the smile on his face is so gentle. Your heart thrums in your chest.

“So cute n' pretty,” he says, and presses his nose to the soft curve of your cheek. Rather than coconut, all you can smell is his shampoo, familiar and homely and heady. “All over. God, I can’t believe you’d let me touch you like this. I’m so lucky. Was that good, baby?”

“Yes,” you say, and then, because you’re still floating in a light haze of disbelief: “I’m the lucky one.” 

Taehyung laughs, low and quiet. It’s a honeyed moment, dripping slow and sweet, even sweeter when he tilts his head forward. His lips are soft against your cheekbone, your jaw, and when you turn towards him, they’re even softer against your mouth. You can feel the shape of his smile, and it tastes so bright, small kisses that turn open mouthed, so perfect. Because you’re kissing Kim Taehyung, your Taehyung, something you’ve been dreaming about for so long, now—even if this entire situation is pretty unbelievable, honestly.

When you pull back, his eyes spark with unadulterated joy. He’s warm and heavy, pinning you down against the towels that are soft against your front; arching your spine, you lean back against the weight of Taehyung’s body, his cock fattening up through the layers of clothes that separate you. He lets out a breath of surprise before he grinds down, pressing that hard heat against you, and your cunt clenches.

“Can I finish the massage?” He asks, sounding almost eager, even with the rasp of lust in his voice. You can’t help but laugh, an affectionate giggle that has you knocking your foreheads together.

“Of course,” you say, and he catches your lips again, swallowing the last of your laughter, sweeping his tongue over your lips, inside your mouth, wet and hot and a little messy, but good. 

“You need to be on your back,” Taehyung continues, slow after the kiss is broken, and, oh, okay, that has you shivering. “If you want to?”

Of course you want to.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let me move.”

He shifts to give you room, but not before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, the bump of the top of your spine, lips sliding against the oil that he’d rubbed there earlier, goosebumps erupting over your skin.

“So good to me,” he whispers. You don’t think he even means for you to hear it. 

(It’s said without thought; not thoughtless, no, but a soft little thing that says so much. A thought that’s slipped across his mind and fallen from his lips, warm and tender. Like you’re always good to him, and he sees it, he knows it, he feels it, he thinks it, and he’s almost in disbelief about it, because you’re so good to him.)

You feel warm and languid after cumming, loose-limbed as you flop onto your back. There’s no going back now. There’s no going back from this moment, naked and vulnerable under Taehyung, nothing hidden away any more—the soft fall of your breasts, your stomach, the lines of your hips, your fingers tightening in the towels spread beneath you as Taehyung’s eyes drink you in, wide and overawed at the sight of your flushed cunt, ripe and slick and ready for him.

(There's no more hiding how much you want Taehyung to have you, body and heart alike.)

You can see the shape of your body silhouetted on his clothes, where the oil has seeped into the material from how close he’d been pressed against you. You can see just how affected he is, cock straining against the loose linen of his white trousers, and you bite your lip to try and stifle the sound you make.

“Look at you,” Taehyung breathes, kneeling between your legs. “You’re so perfect.”

Your cheeks burn. “Taehyung, please,” you say, embarrassed. You really aren’t, especially in comparison to model-gorgeous Kim Taehyung, eyes dark and full of heated lust, hair falling in his eyes, effortlessly beautiful, always.

“You are,” he insists. “You have no idea how perfect you are.”

Before he reaches for the massage oil, he sucks the taste of you off his fingers, sloppy and messy. Your pussy throbs at the sight. And—you were also right about the visual being too much to handle, breath catching in your throat as you watch it drip into his broad hands. His palms shine as he rubs them together, interlacing his fingers, so graceful in their motions. You’re so wet from your orgasm, only getting wetter as you stare back at Taehyung, whose gaze has been heavy on you the whole time.

He starts at your collarbones. It’s even slower than before, and you ease underneath him, revelling in the softness of his touch. He sweeps his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, circling his long fingers around your wrists before lifting one of your hands. Your eyelashes flutter as he presses a kiss to your palm, a motion so full of adoration and tenderness it steals your breath away, and you squirm, shy.

“Tae,” you whine. “You can’t just do that.”

Of course he doubles down, lifting your other hand and repeating the motion, letting his lips linger between your head line and your heart line. “I can,” he says, words warm in your cupped palm. 

“I hope you didn’t do this in class.” Your voice is too weak for it to come out as the joke you mean it to be. 

Taehyung just shakes his head, mouth brushing over the tips of your fingers. “Only for you,” he says. “Did the whole class for you. I wanted—wanted an excuse to touch you more,” he admits, and your heart feels like it’s going to launch itself out of your throat.

“Then touch me,” you say, trying to sound confident even if your cheeks burn.

And he does. He lets your hands drop, gliding his touch back up your arms, down your body, over your legs; he massages your thighs and calves, digs his thumbs into the arches of your feet, circling his fingers around your ankles, shackles you don’t want to escape from. You feel so relaxed and lax, somehow, even if every touch has you biting your lip, anticipation roiling  in your stomach for what’s to come, Taehyung laying your legs down softly before he shifts back up, hands held out towards you—

—then he cups your breasts in his big, big hands and your back arches, fingers sliding over your nipples, glistening with coconut oil, circling them with the pads of his thumbs. You let out an embarrassing whine.

“Oh, Tae,” you beg. “More, please.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

You smile at another soft, unexpected pet name, flustered, but then your eyes slide shut when Taehyung bends down to kiss your neck as he continues to run his hands over the swell of your breasts. He trails his lips over your oiled skin, shifts down, drawing a line from your neck to the valley of your chest, the hard line at the center of your ribcage.

“Tae,” you murmur, and then, feeling bold under the heat of Taehyung’s dark eyes— “Baby.”

He hums before laying another sloppy kiss against your sensitive skin. You can feel the curve of his smile in the kiss. “Yes, love?”

“Is it really okay for you to… you know… get that oil in your mouth? I don’t want you to get sick,” you say, concerned, even through the haze of your arousal. His lips shine with it, at how he’s been trailing his mouth over all the parts of your body that he’s touched.

There’s a short beat, and then Taehyung buries his head against your neck—in that little hollow that’s his, in a motion he’s done dozens of times. Except this time you’re naked and he still has fingers splayed across the soft skin of your chest, nipples dragging underneath his palms.

“You’re always so considerate.” His words are muffled against your skin. “It’s fine. It’s edible.”

“You got edible massage oil from your course?”

Taehyung hesitates. “No,” he admits. “I bought it. It’s edible and, uh. Safe for intimate use.”

You’re silent, just for a moment, and then you can’t help it. You start to laugh. 

“Kim Taehyung,” you say, body shaking with amusement. “Did you buy edible massage oil that you can also use as lube?”

Taehyung pulls his face away from your neck and glances up. You’re giggling at him, and he feels so full of love and affection; he can’t help but join in, both laughing at him, loud and carefree.

“It’s why I asked which one you liked,” he confesses, once he can catch his breath.

“I can’t believe you lied to me,” you say, but you don’t mind, really, and he knows it. You lift a hand to push hair out of his face, running your fingers down his scalp. He leans into your touch with a smile, bright and lovely, before he abruptly shifts one of his hands down so he can lick a hot, wet stripe across the skin of your breast.

That stops your laughter pretty fast, surprised hiccup shifting into a broken moan when he engulfs your nipple in the heat of his mouth. “O-oh,” you gasp. “Oh, Taehyung—”

“Been thinking about this for so long.” Taehyung’s eyes are lidded and dark as he leans back, watching the way you react to his touch, arching up towards him. “Wanted to touch you like this so much.”

“Wanted it too,” you breathe. “Wanted—oh, God, Tae, fuck—”

It’s overwhelming. Not just the way Taehyung is flicking his tongue over each of your nipples, pressing his lips against your skin, no—but the idea that he’s been hoping for this, too. Each wet motion of his tongue over your pebbled skin drags pulls out of you; Taehyung’s cock twitches at a loud keen that’s drawn from your lips, a wet patch of precum seeping through his boxers and trousers, darkening the fabric, even though you haven’t touched him yet.

When you reach out to grasp him through his clothes, his hips jolt forward and he bites off a surprised gasp, cutting through the sound with his teeth. He feels long and heavy as you stroke him, thumbing over the wet patch at his tip, hot, even through all those layers between your skin and his.

“I want to feel you, Tae,” you say, staring at him. “Inside me. Please.”

His breath hitches when you tighten your fingers around his shaft and drag your hand upwards, slow and intent. 

“The oil isn’t condom friendly,” he admits, abashed. 

“Then you can cum in my mouth,” you reply. No hesitation.

Taehyung’s eyes are so wide, but then he smiles, eyes squeezing into crescents, mouth turning up into that lovely, broad grin of his. He looks so sweet and sincere, and you feel like you could explode, stuffed overfull with love for him.

“You really are perfect,” he says.

“Only for you,” you reply, your smile just as bright.

He lays one final kiss to your chest, above your beating heart, before he starts to strip. The oil has obviously soaked through his shirt and onto his skin because it sticks when he peels it off and carelessly throws it aside. 

Just like his heart, Taehyung’s body is soft and lovely. You sit up so you can touch him properly, catching him off guard when you pull him in for a kiss—one he eagerly leans into, and without the shirt in the way you can feel the way your skin slides against his, softened with oil. 

There really is no one as beautiful as Kim Taehyung. You drag your hands over him, so warm and wonderful under your palms; his chest, his cute tummy, his waist, his hips, the soft skin above his red, neglected cock. He’s radiant in his nakedness, every easing line of his body so perfect as he kneels in front of you, the flush of his skin, the heavy weight of his arousal, head shining with precum, so wet it’s practically dripping.

You lean in to kiss his neck and nip at his Adam's apple as his hands slide over your shoulder blades and down your back, the parts that make you shudder.

“Want you, Tae.” You whisper into his mouth, a soft secret that isn’t really a secret at all, not any more. “All of you.”

“Going to give you everything you want.” The words flow out of him with ease. “Everything you want.”

His chest and stomach shine with the massage oil that’s rubbed off from your own skin. You run your hands across him, and when you finally grasp his cock without the barrier of cloth in the way, he’s almost burning under your grasp, thick, his entire body shuddering when you pump his length. So sensitive to your touch.

“I’m goin’ to make you cum again,” he promises, and you love it, the way he talks when he’s losing himself. “Bet you’ll feel so good around my cock, so perfect.”

A shiver skates through your body. Taehyung’s fingers dig into your skin when he feels you trembling under his hands, and all you can think about is how you want him in you.

“Please,” you say. “Please, wanna make you feel good too—”

“Hands and knees, angel,” he rasps, and, God, yes, those words cut straight through you, sharp and electric.

Maybe you should feel embarrassed at how quickly you obey. The towels underneath you, so carefully placed at the start, perfectly flat, become rumpled as you shift into position; you arch your back, wanting to look as good as possible, and glance over your shoulder to see if it works.

Judging from the look on Taehyung’s face, it does. He looks like he’s never seen anything more awe-inspiring, eyes wide and mouth a little slack, dumbstruck. But then his jaw snaps shut and he splays his hands over the soft skin of your hips, your waist, your ass, shuffling closer to you; you feel the curve of his cock slide against your skin and you bite back a noise of need.

“Fuck, so beautiful.” He ruts forward, and you can feel the wetness of his precum slicking against you, a beaded line drawn across the sheen of massage oil. “My beautiful, perfect girl.”

“Tae,” you plead, already overwhelmed with need, heart squeezing at his words.

“Just one more thing, angel, I promise.”

It’s a good thing that the bottle of massage oil is so big, considering how liberal Taehyung is with it. You gasp when he uses one hand to spread your ass and before you can react there’s a drizzle of oil falling onto your skin, down-down-down, over your cunt, dripping over your inner thighs; Taehyung catches the excess with his palms before he slicks himself up, spreading that sweet coconut over his throbbing cock.

(You wonder what it’ll taste like when you lick it off him.)

When you feel the blunt head of his cock nudging at your pussy, your entire body lights up in anticipation, nerve endings on fire, every inch of your body singing under Taehyung’s touch—and when he finally sinks in, it’s almost effortless. He’s thick and long but everything slides so easy; you gasp and he moans, both lost in how your body opens up for him, hot and wet. By the time he’s bottomed out you're a quivering mess, collapsed onto your elbows. You’re so full. You feel split open in all the best ways, wanting to draw him in impossibly deeper even so.

Taehyung is gripping your sides, hands unmoving even with the slick oil underneath them, fingers digging into your skin. He’s breathing so loud, and when you experimentally shift your hips, he bites back a noise that cuts through that breath.

“How’s it feel, love?” His words slur together in arousal, but the hand that strokes your back is slow, thoughtful. “Feel good?”

“Fuck me, Tae, baby, please,” you beg. It’s so, so so much, so good, amazing, hotter and bigger and harder than anything you’d let yourself imagine, your entire body taking Taehyung and holding him in, in, in. “Please, I need it, it feels good but I want more, please.”

When he pulls away it’s slow and torturous and he goes so far he almost slips out, cock nearly sliding out of your folds. You whine, a little shameless, mostly needy, but then—

The snap of his hips drives you forwards, towels shifting underneath as you scrabble for a hold on something. Each sharp motion of Taehyung’s body has you choking for air and letting out whimpers and gasps, drowned out by the slap of skin on skin; his hipbones meet the soft flesh of your ass, again and again, but all you can focus on is the thick heat of his cock inside you, in-out-in-out, the press of his balls against your clit, everything so wet and smooth and slick.

You can feel how you’re losing yourself to that heady place that’s golden bright with feeling, lust and sex, the rest of the world gone, unimportant. There’s nothing but this—Taehyung touching you, filling your body so well, so perfect, helping you chase that high that’s growing faster and faster, that precipice of pleasure that he’s going to throw you over again, intent on it.

One of his hands trails up your back, between that sensitive dip of your shoulder blades and into your hair, locks tangling with coconut oil before he urges you up. He doesn’t yank or pull but his hold is firm and you end up back on your hands, arms trembling as you try to keep your balance, back bowed, overwhelmed. 

“Baby,” he rasps. “Oh, you’re so tight n’ hot, so pretty, fuck. You feel so good, do you feel good?”

Your answer is almost a wail, so overcome with pleasure, sensation, the glide of his hands over your shining skin, the mix of oil and arousal that drips out of you, only getting wetter with each thrust of his hips into you. “So good, o-oh God, Tae, baby, fuck, oh, theretherethere—”

“Here?”

He punctuates this with a roll of his hips, using the hand still on your hip to pull you back onto his cock as he fills you up once more, throbbing heat. He bends over you, and this time, there’s nothing stopping the skin on skin contact, the slide of his chest against your back as he kisses the soft skin behind your ear, nipping at your lobe, and that’s it, you’re gone. Your eyes slide shut and your mouth falls open as another orgasm crashes through you, legs shaking as you cum around Taehyung’s cock, grinding back against him to drag out that pleasure; the only thing holding you up is the hand still in your hair, the lips trailing up the side of your bared neck, the hard cock inside you, keeping you against him, so many points of connection with Taehyung.

(His chest pressed against your back, heart beating so hard you can feel it, your own heart moving in tandem, matching him.)

He’s been whispering filth to you, heated praise and love, how good you feel, how beautiful you are, what it’s like to see you like this, touch you like this, have you like this. Lovely, pretty, perfect, gorgeous, hot n’ wet n’ tight, fuck, love, oh.

You’re still shivering, the final pulses of your orgasm curling through you with each unintentional shift of Taehyung’s hips, the drag of his length inside your inner walls. You can feel something dripping out of you; oil, cum, you don't know, but fuck, it feels so so good.

“Oh, God,” you say. Breathless. “Oh, Taehyung, oh.”

“Pretty darling,” he murmurs. He swivels his hips, grinding against you, and your entire body jolts with oversensitivity, clit swollen where his balls press against it. You tighten around him and groan at how hot and big he still feels inside, even as you still shiver from the come down of your second orgasm. “Gonna roll you over so I can see that perfect face.”

And when you’re on your back again, fucked out and mussed and wrecked, he just stares at you. You’ve watched his face for so long, seen so many expressions flit across his features, but never something like this—it’s a mix of amazement and awe and tenderness and lust and love, a lift to his brows and a spark in his eyes and a set to his lips.

And when he leans down to kiss you, that look doesn’t leave. It melts and softens around the edges as you catch each other's mouths, as you kiss and kiss, small tender things interspersed with longer, deeper touches, lips and teeth and tongue—his eyes darken and his mouth flushes darker pink, kiss swollen and so beautiful, but that expression stays. It stays for you. 

Kim Taehyung is beautiful and lovely and unique. Kim Taehyung is so far out of your reach it’s kind of stunning, actually. And yet, here you are, existence of his touch over every part of you, in every part of you, lust driven, love full; the carefully balanced weight of his body splayed over you, pinning you down, keeping you close.

“I wanna see you cum, Tae,” you say. “Please?”

And just like he always does, Taehyung indulges you, just like you indulge him. He presses back inside you, cunt opening up for him so easy, so smooth, like his touch has already been etched into the memory of your body, perfect for him. He stays pressed close, face so near as he rolls into each thrust, sweat and coconut oil painted across your skin as your bodies shift together.

He’s been covering you in his words, both heated and sweet, and now you return the favour. You tell him how good he feels, how beautiful he is, so good, so perfect, so considerate, how much you’ve wanted this. So good, so long and thick, oh, Tae, feels so good, ah-ah-ah, baby, you’re unreal, fuck.

You can see the exact moment he starts to reach his high, the way he sucks in air, the way he lifts his chin, starts to thrust a little harder, a little faster, chasing that thread of pleasure that’s spiralling through him, and you urge him on. You lift your hips and clench so tight it has him gasping, hips stuttering, and you press your nose against his jaw, saying give it to me give it to me give it to me, wanting him to feel the same pleasure he’s given you. 

When he pulls out, you’re too busy moving to pay attention to how empty you feel, settling between his legs and swallowing down his shining cock almost desperately. There’s no coconut. You can only taste yourself and when you lave your tongue across his slit it’s all Taehyung-Taehyung-Taehyung, hot and salt and bitter; he gasps and his hips jump and you take it all, lowering your head as far as you can, the head of his cock at the back of your throat before you pull up, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein at the underside, messy and wet. You drink down the wetness of his cock, your own arousal, mixed with his, the precum that beads at his head, staring up at him, your hands sliding over the sheen of his stomach, his thighs, cupping his balls, everything slick with oil and sweat.

“Oh, God.” Taehyung’s eyes are blown and his hair is a mess and his mouth is wide open as he pants for air, watching. “Baby, baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.”

You suck hard, dragging your lips up from the base of the cock to the rounded tip, swirling your tongue, bobbing your head faster—

“Oh, fuck—”

—and you swallow down each wave of cum, swallow down the way his cock twitches as he spills the evidence of pleasure into your mouth, swallow down the lovely noises that shudder out of him, watching him the whole time, never wanting to look away.

When you take your mouth off his softening cock, you draw a line of kisses with your mouth, up the soft skin of his body, stomach to chest to neck to mouth. He licks the taste of coconut oil off your lips, the taste of himself off your tongue; you curl up in his lap, settled against him, the apartment’s cool air even sharper against your skin, magnified by the oil that still lingers.

(Even without the oil painted across him, Taehyung would still shine, even under the weak light from the cheap lightbulb that hangs above you.)

You feel soft and warm and small in the circle of Taehyung’s arms, pulled close, and you can hear the words in his chest as he speaks, a resonance that touches against your skin.

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs. 

You pause.

“Baby, love, darling.” The endearments are sugar sweet in your mouth, soft against his skin before you pull back to look at him, confused, concerned. “Sorry for what?”

“I really—I really was just planning to do a massage, but you’re so…” 

You let out a slip of laughter. The room smells of coconut and sex, but when you lay your head against Taehyung’s collarbone all you can smell is the light tinge of his sweat. You breathe in, deep, like you can hold onto that ephemeral part of him. “Oh, Tae. I’m so what?”

“You’re so good,” he says. “So good and kind and lovely and—and so beautiful. I was going to do the massage to make you happy and then… tell you. About how happy you make me.”

You burrow your head into the hollow of his neck, the way he does to you, shy. “I’m not as beautiful as you,” you reply. “Tae, you are literally the most beautiful person alive, and—God, I’ve. I’ve been. So head over heels for you.”

There’s a pause. “Really?”

When you pull back to fix Taehyung with all the surprise in your gaze, you can see that he’s surprised, too. His hair hangs into his eyes, and he looks a little unsure, like he believes you, but finds it impossible to fathom.

You leave massage oil on his cheeks when you cup his face in your hands, staring at him with wide eyes. “Kim Taehyung, I have had daily breakdowns about the intensity of my love for you to Pickles ever since we got him. You’re the first person I think about each morning—usually because we wake each other up—and the last thing I think about at night—well, usually because you end up climbing into my bed more often than not, but, it still counts,” you say. You’re both tangled together in so many ways already. “You’ve had my heart for a long time, you know. I just never thought I had a chance?”

When Taehyung kisses you, it’s brief, a hard press of his lips before he rests his forehead against yours. “You really, really have no idea how perfect you are,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted—I want to do everything for you to show you how grateful I am for everything you do for me.”

“You don’t have to,” you protest, but he just smiles.

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” he says. “Like you don’t have to look after me, but you do.”

“That’s because I love you,” you say. “Like, capital L love you.”

You’ve been so afraid of confessing, so convinced that it was an unattainable dream; that Kim Taehyung would never, could never, has never seen you as more than a friend. But the way he’s looking at you now, the way he’s touched you, the way your body still echoes with the feeling of him inside you: you’re not scared, any more. You don’t need to be.

Taehyung’s eyes are so dark and warm when he replies, easy and effortless. “I love you, too.”

Your relationship has always been a give and take, is the thing. When you climb in the shower together, he washes the oil from your back while you massage shampoo into his scalp, laughing when he makes devil horns in his hair. He catches you by surprise when he presses you against the tiles, swallowing your moans when he coaxes one final orgasm from your tired body, rubbing tight circles over your clit as you buck against his hand and water cascades over you both. His cock hardens in your hands, sliding between your legs when you press them together, tight-tight-tight, his length rubbing against your cunt as he fucks your thighs until he’s moaning and shaking and cumming again.

(The water’s cold by the time you finally climb out, but that’s okay. You giggle and kiss as you dry yourselves, each other, excuses to keep touching and feeling, driven by affection, not lust.)

When you’re both clean, and dry, Taehyung’s leg thrown over your hip as he tugs you in, flush with his body under the covers, you press your lips against the line of his jaw.

“Taehyung?”

“Yes, angel?”

You smile and hunch up even closer to him, scrunching yourself up as small as you can to plaster yourself against his side. “Thank you for the wonderful massage. Definitely the best massage I’ve ever been given, ten out of ten, would do again.”

Taehyung laughs, pressing his rectangular smile into the kiss he lays against your lips, and you think that nothing tastes better than the happiness curling his mouth.

“Love you,” he murmurs. Always romantic. “I love you love you love you.”

“Tae-honey-hyung.” And it feels so nice to not have to filter your words, to bite back that second layer of meaning, to try and keep things platonic and chaste when you speak. “I love you.”

And it feels so nice to have your Taehyung beside you, your body still aching with the press of him inside you, a good ache, a nice ache. A physical ache from good love, rather than a heartache from a love you didn’t think was reciprocated. But it is, somehow, each of you so bowled over by each other.

--

(“Hey, Pickles.”

The bearded dragon looks up at you, placid as he lounges in his tank.

“Well, you’ll be happy to hear that you won’t have to put up with me ranting at you any more,” you say. “Taehyung did break out the massage oil but it’s all good. I didn’t spontaneously combust or anything, like I thought I would.”

Pickles’ tongue flicks out as he shifts, and you smile.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m done,” you finish. “Thanks, Pickles. You’re a real pal.”

Taehyung nuzzles into your neck. His arms are a tight circle around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he looks down at the reptile, too. He’s warm and solid against your back, and you lean into him, happiness tingling through you.

“I wonder how much longer we would have taken if you didn’t get that coupon for a massage therapy course,” you muse, and Taehyung chuckles, warm and lovely.

“We would have gotten there eventually. And we would have had each other until we did, anyway. Right, angel?”

Pickles stays quiet as you both kiss, but you can tell he approves.)

--

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​

[ace-nlis]

How they met you & fell in love

a/n: This is the first time I decided to actually write something with the intention of posting it. I hope that whoever reads this enjoys it. I'm sorry if I've misspelled anything, English isn't my first language. I hope I did well for my first writing post >.<

WARNINGS: none apart from slight violence. Female reader. Cussing.

Otherwise; fluffy content.

(Y/n) - Your name

(L/n) - Last name

Like or repost if you enjoy <3

Akaashi:

When you first met him, you thought he was a pretty boy with a resting bitch face. He is an extremely straight forward 'say it how it is' type of person and you respected him for that because it isn’t always easy to just speak your mind upfront in this day and age. He didn’t really look all that friendly or approachable, but since you were friends with Bokuto you just had to suck it up and stick around. It was pretty awkward talking to him or even just being around him at first, until you realized that his exterior was an act and he’s a total softy when he isn’t trying to call Bo out on his bullshit. You found him to be an intriguing person, but also rather intimidating. He was peaceful, he didn’t talk all that much and kept to himself like a true introvert. You were the opposite, more of an ambivert type. You tried your best to befriend him, but little did you know that friendship would spiral into something else along the line.

After a while of being friends, Akaashi got red in the ears in your presence. He was easily flustered around you, and the both of you often tended to flirt and bicker as if it was second nature. The two of you in a room together never got boring. Everyone around you could tell the two of you were head over heels for each other. You thought the opposite though, you felt that the friendship was never going to progress into anything more and that your crush was meaningless because nothing would come of it. After being friends for several months, nearly reaching the 1 year milestone, you eventually started to distance yourself.

You always thought the way Akaashi acted around you was purely just because the two of you had a close bond as friends, nothing more, nothing less. Akaashi on the other hand was devastated when he noticed the drastic changes in the close bond you both shared. He noticed that whenever he walked into a room, you’d disappear. Whenever he tried to call you, you wouldn’t answer the phone and make up some excuse that you were busy. The poor guy felt like his sanity was hanging on a thread and all he wanted was to speak to you, figure out what he did wrong and at least go back to how things once were. One day, he cornered you in an empty classroom. His eyes seemed frantic and he made sure to trap you between his arms and leave no room for you to escape so he could get answers. “(Y/n), are you okay? Why have you been avoiding me? Did I do something wrong?”

It seemed like the questions that were wracking his brain kept tumbling out, and in an overwhelmed panic she stopped him. The next thing the both of them knew was that her lips were pressed to his. At first his eyes were wide and body was stiff with shock. He didn’t know how to respond, and he firmly believed that this was a dream. In her mind, she thought she had just made the biggest mistake of her life because he wasn’t responding to it, he was just standing there and embarrassment slowly started to flood her. Before she could pull away from him, his arms slackened and his hands slid down the wall beside her, eventually placing them on her hips and pulling her body flush against his while kissing her back feverishly. When the two pulled away, they were out of breath and their eyes had a dazed look in them as they locked eyes. He leaned his head against hers and sighed in relief, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist as he kept his eyes locked on hers. I think that’s when you both knew that there was no way in hell you’d let go of each other at any point in time because it really felt like you were meant to be together.

Oikawa:

You knew of Oikawa Tooru but you never actually wanted to be acquainted with him. To you he sounded like a total sleazebag, a player that loved breaking female students’ hearts left and right. Unfortunately for you, you just so happened to bump into him on Valentines day after having to reject a poor freshman. When you bumped into Oikawa, he thought that you were another girl ready to confess to him due to the box of chocolates in your hands and a smirk instantly made its way onto his face as he reached over to take the box. Your immediate response was to slap his hand away. If looks could kill, he sure as hell would be more than 6 feet under because you were not up for anyone's bullshit. Oikawa gasped in shock and retracted his hand immediately with a pout. “Hey! I know you. You’re (L/n), hmm. Aren’t you a friend of Iwa? You know, you don’t have to be embarrassed about trying to confess to me. I always appreciate a new follower.”

A mix between a scoff and a laugh of disbelief made its way out of you as you immediately shoved the box of chocolates into your bag. “Wow, I knew you were vain but I guess I underestimated just how much. If you think I have any interest in an asshole like you then you must be smoking something. I have no interest in being one of your petty little toys that you hold on a string. I refuse to be one of your little puppets that follow you around to show my undying admiration for someone as shitty as you. No wonder he calls you Shittykawa. You truly are a self centered douche.”

Oikawa’s face was burning red with embarrassment as she pushed past him and continued going to her class. He was astonished, shocked beyond any words imaginary as he stood there and tried to process what had just happened. Eventually he was brought back to his senses when Iwaizumi smacked him over the head and told him to stop staring like a dumbass and get to practice. “Iwa, How do you know (L/n)?” He asked suddenly after they walked in silence for several minutes, which was very unlike Oikawa. “I’m in the majority of her classes and she lives a block away from me. Why?”

“She’s weird. I thought she was gonna confess and then she slapped my hand and called me a douche.” Oikawa said, his tone was completely flat for once and Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at his friend. “Yeah, well what do you expect? She has better things to do than fawn over you, Shittykawa.”

*Insert offended Oikawa noises here*

Needless to say, his first encounter with you was not exactly what he would’ve liked it to be. Slowly though he tried to fish more information out on you, he wanted to understand why you weren’t like the other girls who practically fell in love with him at first sight and why you were the way that you were in general. That meant that any time Iwaizumi would meet up with you at a park to study together or whenever you guys would spend any type of time together that Tooru would tag along. Teachers thought that you were having a blooming friendship with him though and much to your dismay you ended up getting partnered with him on a school project. You felt sick to the pit of your stomach because you truly didn’t want him to come to your home, but he kept insisting and you knew that there would be no point in trying to convince him otherwise so you gave in to his stubbornness.

You felt ashamed the moment he stepped through the front door, your parents were never home and you had to take care of your younger twin siblings. The house was a mess, and that was when he understood why you had such a cold persona around others. You wanted to distance yourself from people and push them away as much as possible in order for you to not have to go through the embarrassment of looking like a train wreck to everyone else in the circumstances that you were in as opposed to your usual well put together attitude. To your surprise though, he was patient. He jumped in on helping you clean, he even helped the twins with any homework questions they had in between working on your project together and showed no judgement. In fact, he gave you a look of understanding.

After that, you were able to tolerate him more and you allowed him to visit the twins more often while even bringing along his nephew for all of them to play together. He taught them how to play volleyball while also helping you in the kitchen when you needed it. He didn’t want to admit it, but he honestly fell in love with you because of how genuine you were. You guys flirted, but it was suffocating to him like all the other girls who flirted with him on a daily basis. He only had interest in you, and you bet your ass Iwa teased the shit out of him for it. Your project got an incredible score of 100% and the two of you celebrated together by playing some volleyball even though you were complete shit at it. He didn’t care though and had fun. You found yourselves hanging a lot more often, being around each other almost 24/7 and you even met his family at some point. They absolutely loved you, and so did he.

He tried to figure out how he’d confess to you, he wanted it to be special. He wanted it to be a moment the both of you would remember because he quite honestly couldn’t see him spending any of his time with any other girl apart from you. Of course he was extremely nervous and skeptical on how to approach it, it was a 50/50 chance of you liking him back. The thoughts left his mind when he heard your voice outside a local supermarket, asking someone to leave you alone and that immediately flipped a switch in his brain. He quickly tried to look for you and found you trying to tell some tipsy guy that you didn’t want anything to do with him to which he immediately went over with his hands tucked in his pocket.

“Hey (Y/n), everything okay?” he asked as he coldly stared at the man that had been harassing you. A quiet “Oh thank god” was whispered underneath your breath as you managed to force your way closer to Tooru. He immediately wrapped one arm around your waist and kept his eyes locked on the other older gentleman that had been bothering you. The guy smirked, “Oh nothing man, I was trying to have a chat with her and she got all bitchy. That’s all.” (Y/n) could feel his body language immediately became a lot more tense, but you quickly pulled at him and tried to evade the situation. “It’s not worth it, Tooru. Let’s just go, okay? We can get some milk bread and watch movies or something.”

“I don’t appreciate the way you talk about my (Y/n)-chan. In fact, I’d advise you to leave her alone before I make you regret even breathing the same air as her. Got that?” He spoke calmly as he gently nudged you out of the alleyway next to the store. “Hey, who the hell do you think you are? Huh? Can’t just take my woman like that, dude.” This is when you truly saw how angry Oikawa could get as all he did was throw a punch and the guy was down. You could only stare in shock at what had just unfolded in front of you. “If you ever talk about her like that again I swear I’ll make you regret you ever existed.” At that he tugged you along and when the two of you were a few blocks away you grabbed hold of his hand and inspected it. “You seriously didn’t have to go that far. I don’t care what a low life has to say about me, at least I don’t live in the streets and I’ve got a roof over my head.” He remained silent for a moment before latching his hand onto your wrist and pulling you into his chest. “I’d never let anyone do or say anything to hurt you. Remember that. I’m just sorry you had to witness me get like that. I’ll make it up to you though.”

“Oh? I think a date would be a pretty nice way to make it up to me since you insisted on calling me your (Y/n)-chan” you said, giving him a cheeky smile to which he could only reply with a teasing smirk. “Hm, seems only fair after I saved you as heroically as I did.”

“Whatever you say, douche”

*insert baffled Oikawa noises here*

[diavolosthots]

Hi! Can I please request Solomon with female!MC? Let's say they're not very close, civil/casual at most but with some distance since they don't get to spend time with each other, but MC has a crush on him. And one day they just find themselves alone together and there's some awkward tension. Aaaa I don't even know where I'm going for, lol. But you know, there's some kind of electric thingy happening. I hope that makes sense?! Hehe thanks

Honestly i dont know where i was going with this but ya know. Also you said female but honestly theres no genitals or breasts or the like mentioned so although its tagged as F its honestly more GN

Tension ( SOLOMON X F!READER )

Life in the Devildom was honestly not what you expected at all. Had someone told you that demons actually exist, and that wizards and witches were real, you would’ve laughed in their face because wow that seems… a little too far out there, Karen. Yet, here you are, besties with the Devil, speaking with Lucifer himself, and crushing on a wizard that doesn’t even know you exist. Well, he knew of your existence, but how much could that actually mean when you rarely ever talked with one another. Luke was your only way to get to the guy, and even then, you both tried to avoid him in the kitchen because no matter how much you liked Solomon, his cooking is atrocious. You’d rather drink bleach than try that again. Sadly, he’s a little too dense to realize that, although the Gods have blessed him with magic, they certainly didn’t bless him with basic cooking skills. All of that, however, doesn’t really seem to matter much when all you really want is his attention. 

Unbeknownst to you, he’s quite curious about you as well. His feelings are neutral, he thinks, and if anything, he’s just more concerned with another human being in the Devildom, one who seemingly can’t defend themselves, although he has no proof of that. He’s curious on how your stay will turn out, if it even turns that is. You could always just get eaten by demons and in that scenario, he isn’t sure if he would’ve said, “I knew it!” or genuinely be upset. Maybe a bit of both? To him, he thinks, you’re just a science experiment at the moment, and he’s thinking of doubling up with Satan to see how far he could push your limits. He knew he needed to push his own limits to get somewhere, so why wouldn’t you be the same? Honestly, he thinks that humans have that in common; needing to be pushed to their limits to unlock their full potential. 

But anyhow, the point is, you two can’t really form a meaningful relationship for the life of you. Even at RAD, where you have most classes together, it always seems that you’re getting dragged away, or he finds himself surrounded by succubi that would love to kiss his naked feet. Weird, but okay. The incubi are up your arse, too, so it’s not really something unusual. It’s just that it feels like the universe is.... Forcing you to be apart almost? Through really weird circumstances. “We’re still going to the spa later, right, (Y/N)?” Asmodeus pulled you out of your thoughts, twirling a strain of your hair in his fingers. You forced a soft smile, honestly not feeling it anymore, but not wanting to let him down, “‘of course.” but that’s when it happened. Complete darkness. All the lights, even the fires, inside of RAD seemingly went out. Diminished. Poof. Gone. Was this what hell was actually like and the powers of the Devildom were finally tired of Diavolo being too soft?

“(Y/N)?” You felt a hand on your arm and screamed, only for someone to laugh and you quickly figured out it was Solomon. “Solomon?” You felt around in the dark until your hand finally touched something; a coat. You breathed a sigh of relief and moved a little closer until you felt his body heat, but not his body because that’d be weird. “It’s you. What’s going on.” He’s glad the dark is covering him because the sudden touch does have him feeling some type of way, but that’s probably because he can’t see and all his other senses are going crazy. “I don’t know. I’m even more confused as to why everyone else seemed to have left. I walked around a bit and I’m not bumping into anyone, I can’t even hear anyone, except for you. My magic isn’t working either for some odd reason, so I can’t even light a candle or the like.” “You carry candles around?” Honestly it shouldn’t surprise you but you were still kind of confused by his statement; who carries candles around?

A soft laugh filled the air around you and you could’ve sworn you felt the rumble in Solomon’s chest as the sound left him, “yes, of course. You never know when you’ll need them.” But you only frowned, glaring at him although you’re not sure if you’re facing him in the dark, “so you carry candles around but no matches?” Silence. Solomon, truthfully, felt a little bit embarrassed, but he recovers quickly, “well, usually I’d just use my magic.” Another wave of silence passed and you heard Solomon shift before the sound of a chair moving across the floor could be heard and you assumed he had sat down and the silence ensued until he interrupted it, “any reason this could have happened? The Devildom is in complete darkness, not even the castle is lighting up.” You looked forward to where you’d think the window is and he’s right; not even the castle is lit up.

“Do you… do you think something happened to Lord Diavolo that is causing the Devildom to be so dark?” He snorts, silently making fun of that, “why? Because he’s the only light down here?” “Th-that’s not what I meant! I mean… he is the most powerful being down here right? So maybe, if he lost his power, even just for a moment, all of it would be gone.” Solomon hummed in thought, thinking about it but ultimately deciding against it, “no. His powers, or lack thereof, shouldn’t affect all the sources of light…” back to silence. Honestly, that was the worst part about this. The constant silence. It’s so draining and so overwhelming all at once. You knew he was right there, just an outstretched hand away, but at the same time he didn’t feel close enough, “(Y/N)...” your name falling off his lips brought you back and you looked at him, well… you looked in the direction where you thought he would be. Suddenly, a pair of hands snuck around your waist and pulled you into a seating position. You quickly figured out that this was his lap.

“Solomon…!” Your body was tense against his, although you had to admit he did feel fairly warm and theoretically speaking, you could potentially relax against him. “Hm? Oh, right. Sorry about that, I was just thinking that if everyone else disappeared, there’s nothing keeping you or I from disappearing either, and I rather keep you close to me before that happens.” His reasoning seemed fine, although that didn’t make you feel any less tense. Honestly, there was so much tension all around. It was as if he was the cause of the tension, and you were beginning to understand exactly why. You swallowed thickly, shifting in his lap a bit until you, presumably, faced him. His grip on your hips never faltered, and instead, firmed up. “Solomon I… This may sound dumb, but… can I kiss you?” A sudden rush of confidence flew through you and your hands moved to find his face, cupping it gently. You hoped he looked at you right now or this could end kind of awkward, “yes.” 

He didn’t know what prompted him to agree to it but he found himself leaning up a bit, trying to find your face. His lips found something and his eyes immediately fluttered close, his lips pursing to kiss it, only to find you laughing and he immediately pulled back, thinking this was a joke, “I… I hate to break it to you but that was my eyeball.” Well now he’s laughing too. “Haha… well… take two?” You nodded, forgetting that he can’t see and leaned in, kissing his forehead on accident, “you need to lean up, too, Solomon!” He’s grinning, although you can’t see, “what if I wanted a forehead kiss? Besides… third time’s a charm, no?” Once again, you both tried, finding the corners of each other’s lips and moving in from there, smiling into the kiss. The tension seemed to lift, at least for you, and you wondered if he felt the same tension before, “see? Third time’s a charm.” 

He didn’t dare pull away too far, leaning in to kiss you again, his hands sliding up your curves to get tangled in your hair and move your face just a little bit closer against his. You sat there, in his lap, kissing him for what felt like hours, and even after your lips were swollen and numb, you couldn’t help but lean in for another, and another, and another… the light never turning back on as far as you were concerned. 

[persphonesorchid]

Fate's Doing - JHS | THREE |

Notes: Okay guys! This is the final piece for Hobi! Thank you all for reading and stay tuned for Namjoon's story! Also, to avoid confusion, as I move on with each of the boy's stories, their soulmates will be given names if mentioned at any other time. It's really only Namoon's because his story was supposed to be posted first eye- but anyway, enjoy!

Part of the Euphoria series - Masterlist | ONE | TWO | THREE

::

Hoseok watched on fondly as Taehyung chased Jaehun around the living room of his apartment, almost knocking into the coffee table where an assortment of snacks was laid out. Namjoon was currently munching on the packet of biscuits Jaehun had neglected in favor of playing with his uncle, phone in hand as he filmed the interaction between the two.

"Yah, careful. The last thing you need is a nasty bruise on your birthday," Taehyung gently scolds, picking Jaehun up to attack his neck with tickles, the child's giggles following immediately after.

It wasn't much of a party, per se, more of a birthday get-together. Hoseok had thought it better to keep it small and within the tight-knit group of his friends. Last year, Jaehun's fifth birthday party turned out to be a bit of a mess. More than a few friends had come over, including Jaehun's Grandparents, his aunt, and a few of Hoseok's friends from the dance studio. By the time they brought out the cake, Jaehun was nowhere to be found. Hoseok did manage to find him hiding in his bedroom closet with his hands cupped over his ears -- there were more people around than he was used to seeing at a time. He just wanted Jaehun to be comfortable, he's terribly shy, and Hoseok didn't want to overwhelm him and stop him from having fun this year.

It was just pushing mid-day, Hoseok wanted to have the get-together early, with Yoongi having his shift at the radio station at three and Jungkook needing to get to his summer class at the same time. He checked his watch and sighed, it's been an hour since he's asked Jimin and Jungkook to collect the cake on their way, and it won't be long until Jaehun starts asking questions.

"I told you, you should've asked Taehyung. He's less easily distracted." Yoongi comments behind him, brushing past him to get into the refrigerator to place the tray of his freshly made sandwiches. He and Jin had finally stopped arguing about what to make for lunch. Jin wanted to make traditional Seaweed soup, and Yoongi thought it would be best for everyone to eat lightly and just have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which honestly had started the argument because Jin thought it was unacceptable. They eventually decided to just do both, they can have soup and still eat the sandwiches later if they get hungry again.

"I called Kook, they should be here in a bit," Hoseok smiled, watching Taehyung play dead to the amusement of Jaehun, who laughed and poked at his belly.

It wasn't long before there was a knock on the door, and Hoseok moved to answer it, finding Jimin and Jungkook on the other side, both with wide smiles and empty-handed.

"Where's-"

"On its way up," Jimin says, his smile curling into a smirk and a glint of mischief in his eyes that Hoseok didn't trust. Jimin looks past him and his face lit up, "Oh there he is!" He shuffles past Hoseok to scoop up a happy Jaehun who had wandered into the hallway and smother him with kisses.

"In my defense, this was Jimin-Hyung's idea," Jungkook says, brushing past Hoseok to greet Jaehun as well, leaving the man standing at the open door, confused. He was about to ask what was when the words died in his throat and he almost choked.

"Hi,"

Hoseok had almost shut the door in panic as you were standing in front of him, holding the cake that he's sure was the replacement that Jungkook had said he and Jimin got. He just wasn't expecting you to be holding it. He realized a moment later that he was just standing there, gawking, not saying a word.

"Oh, uh. Hi, Y/n...What..." He cleared his throat, throwing a glare over his shoulder at Jimin who snickered at his floundering, turning to look back at you who was smiling so pretty, and his heart hammered against his ribcage. "What're you doing here?"

"Your boys needed a cake so I helped and now I'm here," Your smile faded into something that was a little more nervous, and your brows furrowed the tiniest bit, "I would've texted or something, but I don't have your number and Jimin said I could come when I asked,"

"Oh," Hoseok says, mentally kicking himself for his lackluster response, he steps aside, allowing you to come into his apartment. He thank you softly when he closed the door behind you, narrowing his eyes at Jimin when he practically skipped over to take the cake from your hands saying that he'll put it in the kitchen. He not-so-subtly sent a wink Hoseok's way, turning and announcing to everyone that he and Jungkook brought someone.

Seokjin poked his head out from the kitchen and his laugh followed, "Well well well," He smirks, giving Hoseok a knowing look, "Nice to see you again,"

The others followed soon after to see what Seokjin was going on about, both Namjoon and Yoongi offering you a wave, the only one confused was Taehyung. Then, Jaehun was looking around Namjoon's legs, a gasp leaving him as he noticed who it was. He ran to you, hugging your legs.

"Hi!"

While you greeted his son, Hoseok walked into the kitchen, dragging Jimin behind him by his wrist.

"Why'd you bring her?" Hoseok questions in a harsh whisper, trying not to be overheard by you, but he supposed you're too busy being properly introduced to his friends to even hear. Jin was already cracking jokes, much to the guys' displeasure as groans followed his laugh. Jimin was giving him that same mischievous smile when he was up to no good, eyes crescentic and dimple flashing.

"Hyung!" Jimin whines, causing both Jin and Yoongi to turn in their direction, his hand slipped from Hoseok's loose grip, landing on his shoulder to give a soft squeeze. "I'm trying to help, you talked about her a lot, and she asked to come so..."

"You did say she had nice legs," Jin comments almost a little too loudly but was drowned out by Jimin's laugh. He comes back into the kitchen to check on lunch that was still cooking, moving to lean against the sink facing Hoseok and Jimin. "Besides, it's too late to ask her to leave, that would be rude since she literally just saved your life bringing that cake and she and Namjoon are talking about books."

Hoseok wanted to protest at their ganging up on him, it's not that he didn't want you to stay, Jaehun was pretty fond of you and too excited by your sudden presence to be okay if you left too soon. He's just been thinking about you too recently --Even before he literally bumped into you at the supermarket earlier that week-- and he feared that his nerves would give way to him saying something stupid. Hoseok takes a glance over his shoulder, the open concept of the living room and kitchen allowed him a perfect view of you sitting on his leather couch next to Namjoon. Taehyung was pouting by the window as he was forgotten by Jaehun who had glued himself to your side, constantly pulling you away from your conversation with Namjoon to offer you snacks.

"What about that connection you were talking about?" Seokjin asks, his voice lowered to avoid it carrying, "Take this as your chance to see if it's not just a feeling,"

Hoseok sighs, "I thought I had a connection with her too, but look where that landed me."

"With a son, whom we all love so don't say it like it's a bad thing. Something good came from that, who's to say that trusting that feeling wouldn't be something good too?" Jin shakes a wooden spoon at him.

"I didn't mean--"

"I know you didn't," Jin interjects with a smile, "I'm just trying to place my point, Hobi. Trust it this time."

Hoseok knew exactly what Jin was thinking, and to be honest, he's thought about it, too. It's a little bit worrying, the way you've been on his mind. He had confined in Namjoon, asking him how he felt when he found his soulmate if he had felt that urge to be around her at every moment. Trying to find the reason behind his sudden need other than the most obvious one. He knew a lot about soulmate theory, about the pull, and everything that came with meeting your soulmate, but he couldn't be sure. Hoseok had his doubts, could you actually be the one that he'd been waiting for all this time? He knows well the burn of falling for someone not destined for you, the pain that brought, knowing that just like Jaehun's mother, you would leave him once you found your soulmate.

This was really the reason, even if you would both randomly see each other at the oddest of times, he wanted to draw a line, create a boundary that should never be crossed. He wasn't only thinking of himself, but his son as well, if he were to act purely on his impulse, if it was nothing more than a feeling and worse came to worse, Jaehun would be heartbroken.

He didn't want to tell Jin that there was nothing to trust in feelings such as those, he was only looking out for him as he always did. So instead, he smiled and hoped it didn't look as forced as it felt.

Jin nodded his head once, a sign that the conversation was over and behind them, and rose his spoon again, "Now go be a good host, don't leave the girl waiting."

Hoseok had almost forgotten that Jimin was there until he spoke around a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly sandwich. "Yeah, Hyung, and her nice legs,"

"Aish, shut up." He playfully shoves him, taking a breath before entering the living room.

"You too, Park. Don't think I don't see you stuffing your face over there!"

An hour later, lunch was eaten and gifts were given to Jaehun who took his turn thanking everyone with hugs. He was busy playing with the remote control toy car that Jin had gotten him, the man proudly boasting that it lights up beautifully at night. Taehyung had gotten him more watercolors and sketch pads than he'd ever know what to do with, saying that he was helping to shape is artistic ability. Yoongi had gotten him an all-for-one ticket to an amusement park opening at the end of the summer that would give him free entry to all rides and free reign to puke his guts out.

Grand gifts aside, the other boys had gotten him things for everyday use, clothes and shoes, and baseball caps to match. And a box of donuts for him to indulge in later from the cafe that Namjoon's soulmate, Meijeun, works at.

At two, the cake was cut and shared before Yoongi and Jungkook had to leave. The former complaining that there was a new girl coming in for a briefing, leaving Jaehun with a pat on his head and a wave to everyone, dragging Jungkook who he'd drop to his class on the way. It wasn't long before Namjoon had left, saying that he had plans with Mei for the evening.

The others had filtered out later on in the day as afternoon bled into the evening hours when the street lamps had turned on. Seokjin had offered to help clean up the mess of gift wrappers and nearly deflated balloons, but Hoseok had waved him off.

"Don't you have a curriculum to plan?" Hoseok asked, herding Jin out of his apartment before he could attempt to clean up anyways.

"Not really, the kids won't have much to do in terms of school work. It's more of a summer camp. You should let Jaehun come, it'll be great for him to make friends before the summer's over," Jin had been going on about what he wanted his students to do during the summer. Instead of loading them with homework for the school break, he had the coming two weeks booked with activities for the children whose parents worked during the holiday.

Jin stopped at the door, peeking around Hoseok to see you and Jaehun stuffing the brightly colored gift wrappers that had wandered into the entrance hallway into a plastic bag. When he looks back at Hoseok, he pats his shoulder, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, "You're alone now, so don't screw it up. And I want details, so call me or something!" He leaves with a wink and a thumbs-up, his laugh bouncing off the walls as he made his way to the elevator at the end of the hall. Hoseok rolls his eyes and shuts the door.

"He has a funny laugh," He turns to find you, stifling a laugh of your own behind your hand, eyes squinting and cheeks flushed, "It sounds like wiping glass. I've been trying not to laugh every time he did all afternoon,"

"Oh, he'll be glad to know that his laugh is funny to you," Hoseok smiles, grabbing a bag of his own to clean the mess in his living room, "Don't let him know though, he'll probably laugh around you for hours on end just to make you smile,"

"I wouldn't mind, he's nice. They all are...Taehyung's an artist?" You ask, stepping over Jaehun's new toy that almost bounced your ankle speeding by to pick up the sketch pads that Tae had brought, "He spoke a while about it, but not much,"

"Yeah, he is. He doesn't really talk much about the stuff he's working on, so we don't see it until it's done," Hoseok pulls a tack from the wall, bringing down the string that held the balloons on it and stared at it not sure what to do with it yet. He's been sure to keep a bit of distance between you both, cleaning one side of the room while you cleaned the other, occasionally playing with Jaehun who had more than enough energy to keep you distracted.

"What do you do? I didn't get a chance to ask," Your voice floated over to him, you were looking at the pictures that were framed on his wall, most of them of Jaehun and his friends.

"I own a dance studio a couple streets over," He watches the surprise filter over your face as you turn to face him. He looks away quickly, hoping you didn't catch him staring at you and appreciating how good you looked in form-fitting black tights and loose off-white tee-shirt. Heat climbed his neck, flushing his cheeks and he tried to feign nonchalance, "Hope World."

"You own Hope World?!" You gasp, eyebrows going up, "My cousin takes classes there on the weekend, he never shuts up about it."

Your words make Hoseok blush, he rubs the back of his neck, "It's nothing much really, I love to dance and I want to help people who want to learn,"

The both of you continue to clean in silence, with Jaehun mostly helping. He tried to keep calm as you would constantly brush by each other to and from the kitchen. Hoseok only realized it was getting late when Jaehun yawned and rubbed his eyes, standing in front of him with his arms stretched upwards. Hoseok lifts him up, setting him on his hip, "Ready for bed?" He nods sleepily, resting his head against Hoseok's shoulder, "Let's say goodnight to Y/n first, okay?"

Jaehun reaches out for you when Hoseok was close enough, twisting in his grip to hug you tightly around your neck, pressing a big kiss to your cheek. Mumbling a tired goodnight before snuggling back against Hoseok, "I'll be right back,"

"Take your time," You smile, and Hoseok felt doves take flight in his stomach. He carefully steps over Jaehun's over-turned toy car, toeing it into a corner where it would be out of the way of his shuffling feet. He hummed a song he knew Jaehun liked to further lull him, opening the door to his bedroom, nudging it further still with his hip. He'd thought that Jaehun was already asleep when he laid him on his bed, startling him a bit when he found his brown eyes peering up at him, albeit sleepily.

"Da?" Small hands gripped Hoseok's fingers, tight enough to be worrying, and he remembers a time when his hands were only small enough to hold his index finger.

"Yeah?" Without shaking his grip, Hoseok pulled the dark blue fleece-lined comforter around Jaehun, stopping to brush back dark hair that splayed every which way on his forehead, he'll need a trim soon. "What's wrong?"

"Can Y/n stay with us forever?" The question almost made Hoseok's heart stop, and then pound quickly. Jaehun stared at him with wide brown eyes, and Hoseok thought that he could half-ass his way through the reply he was going to give, but he was so terrible at lying. He knew that Jaehun was unaware of the effects of his simple question, and Hoseok could feel the awkwardness tensing his shoulders. It was the same feeling he got when Jaehun had asked why he doesn't see his mother, and that was something Hoseok had barely gotten through.

"Uh..." He chuckles, trying to find anything to look at but his son's curious eyes, and cleared his throat, "That isn't up to me, bud."

Jaehun pouts the same way he does when he can't get what he wants, kicking his feet underneath the sheets with a whine, "But why? Why can't she stay?"

Hoseok chuckles again, placing his hands over Jaehun's legs to stop his restless movements, and sighed, "Well, for one she has to go home.." He struggled to find a way to explain it for a child to understand, scratching at his cheek, "And sometimes, things just don't work out the way you want them to, no matter how much you want it. Everything's up to fate, I guess."

Jaehun stares at him for a long quiet moment, long enough for Hoseok to count the seconds between the silence as he processed his answer. His nose scrunches, brows furrowing and he saw what Yoongi told him a while back, that he looks exactly like him when he's confused.

"That's dumb." He finally says, crossing his arms, and Hoseok laughs, shaking his head as he leaned over to press a fleeting kiss to his forehead.

"Yeah, it is." Hoseok tucks him in, noting the sleepy droop of his eyes, "I'm gonna step out for a bit, will you be okay here by yourself?" Even though he knows he'll be fast asleep, he felt the need to ask. He walks to the open door, turning to watch him, smiling at the fact that he was still so small in his big bed, swamped by the multitude of pillows and thick sheets.

"Da," He whines loudly, pout back in place, "I'm big now."

"Oh yeah?" Hoseok smirks, "So I can turn the light off then?"

"No, no!" Jaehun pulls the comforter up to his eyes, peeking at Hoseok, and the man chuckles. He was still afraid of the dark, despite knowing that nothing was there, but nothing could ever beat a child's imagination. He remembers how hard it was for him when he'd gotten his own room, many nights were spent with Jaehun sneaking into Hoseok's bed in the middle of the night because his room was too dark. Even with the glow of his rocket ship night light and stick-on glow-in-the-dark stars that dotted the ceiling.

"I'll be back soon okay?"

With Jaehun's question burning in his mind, Hoseok walks back to his living room, finding you standing by the window. He said that he'd take you home and you gave him your address, and the both of you made your way to the elevator at the end of the hall. The ride down was silent, with Hoseok stealing glances at you every other minute, noticing your slight fidgetting and the seemingly nervous twiddling of your thumbs.

Within the close confinements of his car and above the soft buzz of a hip-hop track playing to fill the silence, you were the first to speak.

"Can I ask you something?" Your voice was soft, sounding just as nervous as it did when you were standing at his door hours ago. Hoseok hummed, looking at you, the soft glow of the red traffic light illuminating your face as you avoided his gaze. You fiddled with the hem of your tee-shirt, and Hoseok gripped the steering wheel hard to stop himself from reaching over and taking your hand in his. "You don't have any pictures of Jaehun's mother, I was just wondering what happened to her..."

Hoseok stared straight ahead, watching the windscreen wipers move back and forth as a light drizzle had started a while ago. He realized he'd feared that question the minute you were looking at the photos on his walls, and not too certain he trusted himself to answer without dragging himself into a place he didn't want to be, he remained silent.

"Sorry, you don't have to answer that..." You looked out the window, and Hoseok felt the need to quiet your mind.

"It's alright," He offers you a smile when you glanced his way, shifting the gears when the light changed and the car moved forward. "She left. She wasn't my soulmate and she found what she was waiting for a year after we had Jae,"

"I'm sorry," Hoseok felt your hand on his where it rested on the stick shift, and an ache settled in his chest at the genuine concern lacing your words. As your hand left his, tingles shot up the limb and gathered around the edges of his soul mark and he shot you a worried glance to find that your expression mirrored his.

"It was a long time ago, don't worry about it." He mumbles, finding it so hard to think with the soft buzzing he felt at his right shoulder. Watching as you pressed nimble fingers to your left, just under your collar bone. Leaving him wondering if you had felt what he felt just then. The silence spread between you both as Hoseok turned down the street you told him to. It was strangely comforting, being in the same space and not having the need to speak.

"Oh," Hoseok fumbled for his phone, "You said you didn't have my number," His eyes flickered between the road and his phone as he unlocked it and passed it to you. The sound of your soft laugh made him smile, you were staring at his wallpaper. A picture of him and Jaehun that Jungkook had taken last summer during their trip to the beach, with Jin photo-bombing in the background throwing a handful of sand at Yoongi. The phone tumbled from your hand not a second later, the startled gasp that left you almost made Hoseok swerve his car.

"What? What is it?" The car slowed to a stop at another red light, and grateful for the moment, Hoseok met your panicked expression. "Y/n?"

"Your..." You reach for the phone at your feet, and Hoseok saw the tremble of your hand, "Your soul mark...it's just like mine."

All at once, time seemed to freeze around him and there was no longer the sound of the rain against the roof of the car or the soft lull of the music from the radio. He was confused for a second, and he wondered if he had misheard you -- if his mind was playing tricks on him just because. You were staring at him, eyes wide, your lips moved but Hoseok barely heard over the sound of his blood rushing in his ears and everything came back in a rush when a horn blared from behind. Knuckles white and eyes on the road, Hoseok pulled over when you mumbled that your building was on the right.

The engine was still running and the rain fell harder now, light drizzle taking a turn to a downpour. The silence was no longer comfortable, but thick as can be as you both said nothing, too lost in your own thoughts to even speak.

"Thank you," Once again, you were the first to break that silence, sliding his phone onto his thigh and Hoseok felt those tingles again when your fingers brushed the material of his sweatpants and he was sure you felt it this time as you were quick to pull your hand away. You reach for the clasp of the seatbelt and before Hoseok could stop you, you were out of his car and in the rain.

Hoseok scrambled to follow, not caring that he was getting soaked as he made a quick dash around the front of his car to grab your arm. "Wait, wait." You evaded him at first, pulling your arm away, and he stepped in front of you, effectively stopping you in your tracks. "Just hold on a second."

He realized then, as he watched you, that the redness of your cheeks wasn't because of the chill of the rain. Nor the shake of your shoulders and the tremble of your bottom lip. He realized that while he was processing your revelation, you had taken his silence for rejection.

"What?" You snap, a fire in your eyes, though it was dimmed in the midst of your heartbreaking, "Want to say it to my face now?"

"What? No, no. I...It was unexpected is all. I just didn't... I'm making this worse aren't I?" You roll your eyes and try to step past him, but Hoseok mirrored your movements, and you huffed frustratedly. "I'm not rejecting you. I'm just scared."

"Scared about what?"

"That I won't do this right. I'm scared because I'll mess up somehow and you'll leave, that any minute now I'll wake up." He watched as your gaze softened, your hand found his, and a gentle smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

"You're not, but this is scary for me too, okay?" You look away for a moment, shy smile still in place, "We should get out of the rain."

Right, it's raining.

Hoseok laughed lightly as you tugged him along behind you to stand under the alcove at the doors to your apartment building. Now standing out of the downpour that only seemed to worsen the longer he stared at the drops hitting the pavement, Hoseok shivers. Things could be quite unpredictable, just like how the weather forecast said it would be a warm night and yet there was the rain. Or the way he had resigned himself to living without finding his soulmate, saying a long time ago that the only thing he needed was Jaehun and his friends. Yet, here you are, clothes soaked through, wet hair plastered to your skin and smiling still, watching him like he hung the moon in the sky.

And you stood there even after he had bid you goodnight, cheeks flushed not from the chill but from the kiss he had fleetingly given before running back to his car. Phone in hand as you waved, saying that you would let him know when you got to your apartment safely.

Fate had a funny way of taking what she wanted, and she always did.

—- ✴ ️･゜: *• °* ✴ —-

Euphoria Taglist: @eren-fall @amon-rei @astormunchar

[canarygirl1017]

Ghosted - Chapter 3 (Teaser)

Pairing: Reader / Jungkook, Reader / Taehyung (past relationship, friends to lovers to friends)

Genre:  College!au, fluff, angst, supernatural drama, smut, friends to lovers, emotional trauma, hurt/comfort

Length:  2, 933k words (partial chapter)

Warnings:  language, episodes of anxiety, panic attacks, sexual themes in later chapters.

Summary:  Living in a world full of things only you have the ability to see, growing up with Jungkook has been your island amidst the chaos. But when your best friend makes an impossible request, your friendship is fractured, and your sudden decision to cut ties and move abroad changes everything. Three years later, Jungkook is thriving at university as he begins his junior year. He’s a star athlete, member of a popular fraternity, and every girl’s ideal boyfriend. He tells himself that he’s long forgotten you and the friendship he never had a chance to mend – that is, until you show up on campus as a transfer student with new friends in tow. It’s been three years, and everything has changed, but the biggest change is you. Your new found determination to use your abilities to help the ghosts you used to live in fear of, no matter how dangerous it might be, makes Jungkook fear he’ll lose you before he has a chance to fix what he broke. College AU.

Disclaimer: Just for funsies, I don’t believe in real-life shipping. But I like to write, and I like fandom, so here we are. Please do not duplicate this work or repost anywhere else without permission.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Ghosted Playlist

Chapter 3

“You ready to go?”

You turned to see Taehyung leaning in your doorway. He was wearing flared jeans and a green paisley silk button-down shirt. The open butterfly collar revealed a vintage Chanel gold medallion, and he’d added light green sunglasses to complete his retro look.

Taehyung had picked out your outfit – a short, cream colored wrap dress with an abstract floral design and long flared sleeves. Knee high rust red boots and pin straight hair completed the look, and for once you felt like a match to his fashionable appearance.

You held up a finger as you opened your jewelry box, looking for the vintage garnet drop earrings you’d found to complement the outfit. You slid them in, moving your hair back to admire how they dangled and caught the light.

“Okay, I’m ready,” you said, turning to find him behind you.

“Almost,” he said, pulling a small box out of his pocket.

“Tae,” you said reprovingly as he opened the box and took out a ring. The antique gold setting was beautiful – an oval opal surrounded by a halo of garnets – and it looked perfect when he slid it onto your right ring finger.

“Now you’re ready,” he said, looking pleased as he stood back to check your appearance.

You raised a brow. “When did you even have time to shop for this?” Taehyung’s little surprise gifts were something to which you’d become accustomed over the last few years, and your attempts to discourage him were usually ignored.

He shrugged and as always, his sheepish grin disarmed you. You reached up and adjusted his collar.

“You look like you’re ready for a Vogue shoot,” you said, smiling back. “The poor girls at this party won’t know what hit them.”

“That’s why I have you to protect me,” he replied.

It was Friday, the final weekend before classes started, and the welcoming activities had ramped up in the last week. You and Taehyung had attended some of them and declined others, but you’d committed to the biggest events of the weekend – tonight’s Musical Eras mixer and tomorrow’s Movie Night on the Quad.

The mixer was being held at the Kappa fraternity house, something that had almost made you reconsider attending because you were certain to run into Jungkook again as you had for the last week. While your anger had cooled, you still felt that knot of anxiety in your stomach whenever you saw him, wondering if he’d still be angry or if he’d just pretend you didn’t exist.

So far, his attitude fell somewhere in the middle – when he saw you and Taehyung together at the supermarket, he tried to hide his reaction, but the little muscle ticking away in his jaw was a dead giveaway. A couple of days later, you saw him in the park while you were walking Yeontan and for once, he didn’t look big mad at the sight of you. You were alone and had considered trying to talk to him, but he was with friends. Not wanting to invite public rejection, you waved at the group and hurried away, noticing the little wrinkle between his brows as he watched you go.

Jin, Jimin and Jimin’s girlfriend, Ayeong, had all been by the house a couple of times. Sera had also visited with her mother, accepting Taehyung’s offer of a house tour since Sera’s mother was interested in how the historical home had been renovated. Jungkook was noticeably absent, though Jin seemed certain that he’d eventually come around.

You weren’t so certain of that. In all the years you’d been friends with Jungkook, you’d never seen him so deeply upset with another person. If someone upset him, he might avoid that person for a while, but he always got over it, and you’d never seen him blow up at anyone the way he had with you.

You always thought you knew him better than anyone, and he you, but now you had to acknowledge the reality of this situation – three years had passed, and the truth was, you didn’t know this Jungkook. Worse, he didn’t know you either and you had no one to blame for that but yourself.

________________

Stepping into the Kappa house was like stepping back in time. The large house had several rooms downstairs, each of which reflected a different decade of music, and everyone had taken their costumes just as seriously. You laughed when Jimin and Ayeong met you out front dressed as Sonny and Cher.

“Very nice,” you said, gesturing to Ayeong’s dress.

“Thanks, I love yours too.”

Thought it was still early, the party was already a crush of people circulating between the rooms. Younger guys, probably freshmen, circulated with drinks on trays which they offered to guests.

“Pledges?” Taehyung asked Jimin as he took a beer.

Jimin nodded. “They have to put in an hour according to a schedule and then they’re free to party. That’s as close to hazing as we get here.”

When Jimin offered you a glass of wine, you shook your head. “I don’t really drink much when I’m…” you paused, unsure how to finish the sentence without being weird. “When I’m out.”

You could see that Jimin understood what you meant. “Got it. We have a dry bar too if you want to call it that.”

Ayeong linked arms with you. “I’ll show her. I’m not really in the mood to drink either.”

The dry bar turned out to be pretty impressive, with lots of juice, sparkling water, club soda, and even fruits you could add. You settled for club soda with a splash of raspberry juice and slices of lemon, while Ayeong created a tropical drink.

“I know Jungkook is being… well, difficult. But I just want you to know that Jimin is so happy you’re back,” Ayeong said. “He said you were all friends since kindergarten.”

“Jimin was always one of the sweetest people at our school,” you replied. “It was really easy to be his friend.”

“Not much has changed then,” Ayeong laughed. “What about Jungkook? Jimin says he wasn’t always such a fuckboy.”

You choked on a sip of your drink. “Jungkook is a fuckboy?”

“Well, a nice one? I think he only hooks up with girls who want the same kind of no-strings fun, so there’s never any drama related to it. He’s not the type to get serious though, which is why I’ve told Erin she needs to move on from her crush.”

Fuckboy Jungkook wasn’t something you could really imagine, nor did you want to. You chose not to think too closely about why it bothered you so much.

But once you spotted him across the room talking to a group of girls, you couldn’t shake that image from your mind. He looked good. Really, really good. He was dressed in tight red pants, a black silk button down, and he’d completed his Michael Jackson Thriller homage with a red leather jacket trimmed in black. When he laughed at something one of the girls said, his dimples appeared.

“I’m surprised Jungkook is wearing a costume – he almost never does,” Ayeong commented.

“He kind of stopped wearing them by the time we were in high school,” you said. “But this kind of party, plus a Thriller homage, is pretty on brand for him.”

“Oh, that’s who he’s supposed to be! I’m really bad at guessing all of these costumes.”

You and Taehyung stuck with Jimin and Ayeong, who introduced you to people you hadn’t met yet. Everyone was welcoming, but two hours in you were starting to feel a little overwhelmed by the crowds and the noise. There was also the fact that ever since Jungkook became aware of your presence, you’d felt his eyes on you. You’d hoped his neutral response to you at the park was progress, but you could feel his judgmental stare like a brand.

Every time you glanced over at him, his impassive expression was contradicted by some blazing emotion in his eyes. You reminded yourself that you’d known this would probably be a struggle – that Jungkook would likely be angry with you for leaving. Emmie had even said that no one mentioned your name to him anymore.

You’d just underestimated how much it would hurt.

___________________

Jungkook almost skipped Movie Night on the Quad because he was in a foul mood after the Musical Eras mixer. Seeing you there with Taehyung in your matching costumes had made him inexplicably angry, something Jin called him out on.

“Shouldn’t we be glad that she has good people in her life?” Jin asked him when he stomped around the kitchen the next day, slamming cabinets as he fixed a late breakfast.

“He’s right,” Jimin said. “Plus you know that she and Taehyung aren’t together, right?”

That made him pause. “They look like they’re together.” Fucking matching costumes and all, he thought viciously.

“They dated, but Ayeong said y/n told her it’s been a while since they were together like that. At least six months or so.”

“Who the hell follows their ex-girlfriend to another country? And buys a house?”

“If you took the time to get to know Taehyung, you’d understand that he feels like y/n saved his life. He’s committed to helping her with the ghost hunting because of that, but he also genuinely cares about her. So do Namjoon and Chloe,” Jin said. “They’re all good people.”

“Whatever,” Jungkook muttered, shoving cereal into his mouth.

“Forget it, Jin. He won’t admit the real problem, and we all know his anger default setting when it comes to y/n is because of that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jungkook demanded.

“You’re jealous. You’ve always been jealous of anyone that got close to y/n,” Jimin replied calmly. He crossed his arms and sat back in his chair.

Jungkook grit his teeth. “I’m not jealous.”

“Really? So every time a guy expressed interest in dating her back in high school, and you very pointedly warned them all off, that was you just being what? A good friend?” Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Who? Like Lucas? You’re damn right I warned him off. He didn’t deserve her.”

“What about me?” Jimin asked, a challenge in his tone. “I told you that I liked her our sophomore year, and you shot down that idea so fast I was afraid if I pursued it, it would actually ruin our friendship.”

Jungkook stared at him, shifting uncomfortably. “Because you weren’t serious about it.”

“Says who? I was dead serious, Jungkook, and you know it. For that matter, I think even Lucas was serious about liking her. He never said a word about her that wasn’t totally respectful.”

“Yeah, because he knew I would beat his ass,” Jungkook said.

“You’re right – everybody knew that. Why do you think people steered clear of her? Why do you think Grace hated her so much? I told you that Grace wasn’t as nice as you thought she was. Yet you still held tight to y/n with one hand while you chased after Grace. And I figured it was just a matter of time until you realized how you really felt about y/n, so I let it go. But damn, Jungkook, you need to stop taking out your anger on y/n. Let her explain why she left.”

No one spoke for a moment. Then Jungkook asked, “Has she told you why?”

“I asked her,” Jin said. “But I think she’s waiting to talk to you first.”

Jungkook tried not to think about what Jimin said, but now that he was here on the quad, and you were just a few feet away, it was all he could think about. Jealousy.

He couldn’t deny he hated seeing how close you were to Taehyung. The way the other man touched you, or kept a protective arm around you, pissed him off. The way you smiled at him made him even angrier. Still, beneath the anger was something else – a yearning for the way things had been. No one had ever understood him the way you did, and he missed that connection with you.

It was his fault you left. That little voice in the back of his head kept reminding him that you weren’t the only one to blame for this vast distance between you now. He kind of understood why you’d left, but he didn’t know why it had taken you so long to return.

He kept stealing glances at you rather than watching the movie playing on the large screen set up on the quad. You’d been to the concession stand, and he wasn’t surprised to see you eating gummy bears since that had always been your favorite movie snack.

You looked pretty. Your hair was a little longer now than it had been in high school and fell in gentle waves around your shoulders. You wore another floaty little summer dress, the kind you had always liked, small feet encased in comfortable flat sandals. You and Taehyung had joined Jimin, Ayeong, Erin and Jin on a large blanket towards the front of the crowd.

Stubbornly, Jungkook had opted to sit with some of his friends from the baseball team. He was still close enough to watch you – to hear your voice – to just observe you while his mind sorted through his confusing thoughts and emotions. You had glanced over at him a few times, as if feeling his eyes on you, a silent question in your own. And somehow, he knew that you understood that he needed some time.

At the intermission between films, you went with Ayeong and Erin to the bathroom. Jungkook got tacos from a nearby food truck and when he returned, he noticed that you were the only one missing from the group. A few minutes later, Taehyung was frowning at his phone after making a call that had gone unanswered.

“I’m going to go check on her,” he heard the other man say as he stood up.

Jungkook hesitated for a few seconds before following him. Taehyung had his phone to his ear again, though again there seemed to be no answer.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked as he caught up to him.

Taehyung turned and scowled at him. Then he sighed. “Ayeong said she stayed back because she got a call from her mom that she needed to answer. Maybe it’s nothing, but she’s been gone for almost twenty minutes, so I just want to make sure nothing happened.”

Jungkook nodded and then they were silent as they walked around the buildings that were still open. The campus was well lit, so it was easy to see the faces of people walking to the dorms or back to the quad. When they didn’t see you anywhere, Taehyung made another call.

“Chloe, I need you to ping y/n’s location and send it to my phone.” He listened for a minute. “Maybe nothing but I can’t find her and I don’t know – I’m getting a weird feeling. Okay, thanks.”

Taehyung’s unease was contagious, and Jungkook shifted from one foot to the other as they waited. Then Taehyung’s phone vibrated, and he studied his screen for a moment before gesturing for Jungkook to follow him. After walking for a few minutes, Jungkook realized they were heading towards a park where students often had lunch or relaxed between classes.

And there you were, a silent, ghostly figure swaying in the moonlight as you hummed a strange tune.

“Fuck.” Taehyung started running.

Jungkook was right behind him. When he reached you, he tried to take your arm to turn you towards them, but Taehyung stopped him.

“Don’t touch her,” he said, a note of warning in his tone. “She’s in a sort of fugue state, and it’s safer if she comes out of it herself.”

Rather than argue, Jungkook walked around to face you, but froze when he saw that your eyes were unfocused, and almost… glowing? It was clear that you didn’t see him, though he was standing right in front of you.

Jungkook’s heart was pounding now. “How do we make her do that?”

“There’s something else here,” Taehyung explained. “It probably tried to communicate with her. Sometimes, if she lets her guard down, or if the spirit is especially powerful, she gets sort of… pulled to the other side. It’s usually because they’re trying to show her something.”

Swallowing hard, Jungkook nodded. “Okay. How do we make her come out of it?”

“We can’t make her, and if we try, it can cause severe shock. She’ll already be in a state of shock when she comes to on her own, so we have to be careful. I’m going to go get the car. You wait here with her and just keep talking to her, okay?”

“Can I touch her hands?”

“Carefully,” Taehyung said. “Don’t pull her or shake her, and don’t try to make her move.”

“Okay.” Jungkook pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Jin, I need you to come to the park right now. The one behind the science building.”

You were still humming and swaying when Jungkook reached out to touch your hand. There was no response, so he carefully took both your hands in his.

“Jesus, your hands are freezing,” he said quietly. “You never dress right for being out at night. You know that you get cold even when it’s not that cold, right?”

He squeezed your hands carefully in an attempt to warm them up. There was no response from you, your eyes still fixed on something he couldn’t see.

A/N: I know it's been a long time since I posted, and I'm sorry about that. If you're still reading, I'll get the rest of the chapter up this week, and there is some fluff in the future as Jungkook and y/n start repairing their relationship. I hope I remembered all the people who asked to be tagged (and got the tags right.) If you’d like to be tagged for updates, let me know.

Tag list: @ggukkieland @jikooksgirl19 @waves-and-woods @kookiesbreaky @koochiekoo @monvieesdaebak

[amarimaryllis]

I Like You So Much, You’ll Know It (Iwazumi x Reader)

Pairing: Iwaizumi/Reader  Prompt/Summary: You’re so in love with Iwaizumi Hajime that only the most oblivious person wouldn’t see your feelings for him. (Spoiler: he is the most oblivious person) Tags: Fluff Note: Use of she/her pronouns, Inspired by Ysabelle’s “I Like You So Much, You’ll Know It” Warnings: Mild Swearing

Almost everyone in Aoba Johsai who knew of your existence knew about the fact that you had the biggest crush on the volleyball team’s ace. Sometimes they didn’t even know your name, they just referred to you as “the girl who’s so into Iwaizumi-san”. You were that whipped, and you were that obvious. 

At first, you tried to hide your feelings. You made sure that no one would think you even liked Iwaizumi because you didn’t want the said boy to find out. So when almost the entire school found out about your crush on the ace, you were ready to dig your own grave. Fortunately—and quite, unfortunately—for you, Iwaizumi Hajime is dense. His perception of other people’s romantic feelings for him was as dense as the arm muscles he used to spike volleyballs. In short, he was extremely dense. Hell, you guys were in the same circle of friends, but for some reason, he still didn’t realize just how irrevocably whipped you are for him.

At least not until one day when the rest of your so-called friends decided to ditch both of you. 

It was a Monday, meaning your entire circle of friends would be walking home together because the boys didn’t have volleyball practice. However, it seemed like everyone but you and Iwaizumi had plans after class. Hanamaki and Matsukawa were going to some sort of arcade, Oikawa was going to pick up Takeru, and your two other best friends, Asano and Yamamoto were going to check out the new cafe that opened, and said cafe was conveniently on the direction opposite to your way home.

Which leaves you with Iwaizumi.

You were excited, but you two barely talked, and you didn’t know why it was like that. You guys were fine during the first year, comfortably talking from time to time, hell you were probably Iwaizumi’s number one cheerleader then, but in your second year, things got a little rocky for some reason, and it just got awkward all of a sudden. However, it was probably your fault for shying away from him due to your crush on the ace. Iwaizumi would make the effort to start small conversations with you, and he always seemed confident, but you on the other hand, wouldn’t even dare try to strike up small talk with the strong, reliable ace because you did not want to embarrass yourself in front of him. 

The tension in the air was palpable in the first few seconds that passed after your amazing friends decided to leave you both at the school’s gate. However, Iwaizumi is the first to break the silence.

“Guess I’m the only one walking you home today.” Iwaizumi has a sheepish grin on his face as he rubs the back of his neck. “I hope you don’t mind.”

You just wanted to pounce on him then and there and pepper his face with tiny kisses because, one, you did not mind at all, and two, he looked so cute at that moment that your heart felt like it was gonna combust.

“I don’t mind at all.” You can feel a blush creeping into your cheeks. “But your house is closer though, so technically it’s me who’s walking you home.”

Iwaizumi raises a brow before he ruffles your hair. “As if I’d ever let you walk home alone.”

The blush that was creeping into your cheeks was no longer creeping, it was sprinting through the surface of your skin so quickly that you were sure that the warmth that your face emitted was enough to get you through winter without a heater.

Iwaizumi seems to have realized the fact that his hand was still on your head, and he also seems to have realized what he just said. He immediately retracts his hand away, clearing his throat before he speaks, “Sorry.”

“I don’t mind.” You look at your shoes, the black surface suddenly looking like the most interesting thing on the planet. “But we should go already, it looks like it’s about to rain.”

Iwaizumi turns his gaze to the sky and sees the signs of a storm brewing. “You’re right, let’s go.”

The walk is as awkward as your conversation at the gates of the school. No words were shared, and a heavy layer of tension seemed to rest in the air. However, it didn’t seem like Iwaizumi felt the heaviness in the atmosphere at all. Either that or he’s doing a great job at looking calm and composed.

A few more seconds of silence pass and you can feel the tendrils of recklessness starting to tug at your body, urging you to do and say something stupid. You were pretty fed up with Iwaizumi being so dense that you almost didn’t care about the rejection. You just wanted him to know how much he means to you. Sure, a rejected confession would make things awkward, but both of you were already pretty damn awkward even without the confession. Surely nothing can be worse than this, right?

The words exit your mouth faster than your brain can evaluate them. “Hey Iwaizumi-san, do you not… like me?”

From the corner of your eye, you can see the corner of Iwaizumi’s lips tilt down into a frown, his eyebrows furrowing as he contemplates on what to say. “I do, though. Did Oikawa not tell you?”

“What?” It’s your turn to look confused. “What do you mean?”

“Huh?” Iwaizumi stops walking and turns to look at you. “Isn’t that why you don’t talk to me that often?”

“I’m not following.” You tilt your head in confusion, unable to decipher the words coming out from the ace’s mouth. 

Iwaizumi is gaping at you, a million thoughts seemingly running through his head as he blinks repeatedly. “Did Oikawa not tell you last year that I like you?”

You blink once. Twice. It takes three blinks before you can reply, and the best you can say is, “What?”

Your heart is beating quickly. The words are sinking in, but at the same time, they aren’t. The hopeful part of you says that Iwaizumi liked you, while the part that doesn’t want to get hurt from expectations refuses to believe the words coming out of the ace’s mouth.

Before Iwaizumi can reply, it starts raining.

“Shit, it’s raining.” Iwaizumi clicks his tongue before he shrugs his uniform jacket off and drapes it over your head. “Come on, there’s a convenience store just around the corner.”

Iwaizumi grabs your wrist, and you can only follow him because you were still too stunned to form any coherent thoughts. If you tried to reply now, you feel like the only thing that would come out of your mouth is ‘I love you’, and the world was not yet ready for that.

When you reach the convenience store, there are tiny droplets dripping from Iwaizumi’s hair, making you feel guilty because his jacket shielded you from the droplets of rain that decided to skydive at the worst time.

You’re both seated on one of the benches in the convenience store, thankfully, the one behind the register knew your circle of friends well, and she didn’t mind the fact that you were getting the floor wet.

You hand Iwaizumi his jacket, and he takes it, but instead of wearing it, he wraps it around your shoulders. “It’s cold, you might get sick.”

You frown. “I’m not the one who’s dripping wet from the rain. If anyone here has a chance of getting sick, it’s you. Take your damned jacket before you get sick.”

“Continue scolding me like that and I might just think you like me back.” You see the blush on Iwaizumi’s cheeks before he looks away from you.

“Stop that.” You grip at his jacket to wrap it tighter around your form. You were honestly just confused. Did this dense idiot really not know? And did this dense idiot actually feel the same? 

“Stop what?” Iwaizumi turns to look at you again, worry etched into every inch of his face. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Stop saying you like me when you don’t.” Your brain has reached the conclusion that maybe Iwaizumi finally realized that you did like him and was now leading you on. Deep in your heart, you knew that Iwaizumi was such a kind person that doing such a thing would never cross his mind, but you were still in denial because how the hell is someone like him, into someone like you? “It’s true that I like you but you don’t have to play with my feelings like that.”

“What?” Iwaizumi’s mouth is gaping open. “Are you saying that you… Do you like me?”

You blink at him in disbelief. A few beats pass and suddenly you’re laughing like a madwoman. You were ready to doubt him again, but the pure shock on his face was too genuine to be questioned. “You are dense! Oh my—“

Your sentence is cut off by your laughter, unable to hold it in. You couldn’t believe it.

Iwaizumi is still confused, but he looks a little embarrassed. There’s a blush on his cheeks, but there’s something in his eyes as he looks at you. A tiny glint of happiness shining in his eyes as he adores the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh.

When you calm down from your laughing, you decide to give Iwaizumi an explanation. “Yes, I do like you, you dense idiot. Probably since our second year? I’m pretty sure you’re the only one in the entire school who isn’t aware.”

There’s a blush on Iwaizumi’s cheeks as he searches your face for any sign of deception, but he finds none. The embarrassed look on his face is immediately replaced with a confident smirk as he brings his face closer to yours.

Instinctively you scoot back, but Iwaizumi’s reflexes are quick so one of his hands is immediately behind your neck to keep you where you are. “Bold of you to call me a dense idiot when I’ve been in love with you for three years and you never even noticed.”

It’s your turn to be embarrassed, your cheeks warming as you attempt to look down to avoid Iwaizumi’s intense gaze. 

“Oh no, you’re gonna look at me while I confess.” Iwaizumi teases as he removes his hand from your neck to tilt your chin upward. “I really like you, Y/N. Your smile, your eyes, the way you laugh… Just everything about you. You’re just so… Amazing.”

You can’t reply, too touched and overwhelmed to form any words.

“It sounds stupid, but I’m pretty sure I’ve imagined a hundred different futures with you the moment you cheered for me in that one Dateko game where I kept getting blocked.” Iwaizumi whispers, gazing into your soul in hopes that the other feelings he couldn’t put into words would be conveyed through his eyes. “You probably don’t remember, but that day, I realized that I’m gonna do whatever it takes to make you happy.”

“I got pretty bummed out when you got distant in our second year, I thought you disliked me so I kept our conversations short just so I don’t inconvenience you.” Iwaizumi grows as he recalls the moment you guys got awkward before it’s replaced with a smile as he speaks. “What a surprise that you like me too, huh?” 

Iwaizumi chuckles lightly before he gently brushes a stray strand of hair from your forehead, and the feeling of the tip of his calloused fingers grazing your skin was enough to send your heart into a frenzy. “Can I…”

“Can you what?” You whisper, not wanting to ruin the moment by making your voice too loud.

“Can I kiss you?” Iwaizumi looks into your eyes, waiting for permission. Waiting for a sign, a word.

You don’t reply, instead, you grab him by his tie and tenderly press your lips against his. Your heart feels like it’s about to escape the confines of your chest as you move your lips against Iwaizumi’s. Years of chasing after Iwaizumi finally concluded, and damn did it conclude pretty damn well.

You’re the first to pull away. Leaning away as you looked to the side to hide the blush on your face.

There’s a stupid grin on Iwaizumi’s face, his wide eyes accompanied by a bright smile as he breathes deeply. “Shit, I’m in love.”

Your face practically bursts into flames at how happy Iwaizumi looked at that moment, but you compose yourself and muster a quick reply. “I mean, this situation would be pretty awkward if you aren’t.”

Iwaizumi raises a brow as he smirks teasingly—boy did that simple action do things to your heart—before he grabs your wrist, making you faceplant right into his sturdy chest. He proceeds to cup your cheeks with his hands, pressing his forehead on yours. “I’m not gonna ask you to be my girlfriend yet.”

You can feel your heart drop a bit as you look into Iwaizumi’s eyes.

“I’m gonna give you the first date that you deserve then I’ll ask you.” Iwaizumi grins as the worry on your face is replaced by a small pout. “I hope you say yes.”

“Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.” You answer a little too quickly, which makes Iwaizumi chuckle before squishing your cheeks.

“I haven’t even taken you out on a date yet.” Iwaizumi reasons out, continuing to absentmindedly squish your cheeks with his large hands.

“If you’re not asking me then I’m asking you.” You grin teasingly. “I’ve been pretty whipped for a long time now and I’m not about to let this opportunity slip.”

Your heart leaps into somersaults at the sound of Iwaizumi’s laughter. 

“Fine, you win.” Iwaizumi pinches your cheek. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

You nod enthusiastically.

Iwaizumi smiles before he places a hand on the back of your neck and pulls you in for another kiss. His other hand pulls you by your waist to bring you closer to him, and when you’re close enough, the hand on your neck moves your waist as well. Iwaizumi continues to kiss you, gently, sweetly, too afraid to hurt you in any way even if it was unintentional.

That day, you tell yourself, was probably the best day of your life. The rain added to the beauty of that moment because it gave you an excuse to snuggle into Iwaizumi’s side as he pressed small kisses on the side of your head from time to time.

A/N: I hope you guys liked it! This one was a piece I made a while back, so if it’s familiar then it’s probably from my old account before I deactivated it. I made a new account cause I realized I was more stressed when I wasn’t writing. Thank you for reading!

[rikiflowers]

being enough; levi

genre: angst and fluff

warnings: cursing 

- 3.6k words; Levi Ackerman x female reader; college au  

you just want to be with him

You were tired. Not only were you sleep deprived for-you don’t actually how long- ages, also your mental health wasn’t in a stable place. Your constant fear to fail in every area of your life, does the rest. You were so tired, that you only lay in your bed, your eyes kept staring on the ceiling. It was pitch black in your room; your head sunk into your many stuffed animals. You were glad that your roommate was never here. She snucks out to her boyfriend’s place, so you could be for yourself. You sigh, hearing loud banging and bass boosting music from 2 rooms next to you.

 It was always like this, so you got used to it, but today was an exception. Anger bubbles in your body. Couldn’t they be doing drugs and loud music at some other time, when you’re not like this? The void seems to consume you and you wished you could fill it; with him. You knew it was just sex, but your heart yearns for more, than he could ever give you. But you got along with this, feeling your body getting number with every shared kiss, every thrust and every intimate moment, which isn’t real.

You flinch as you heard your door open. For a second you thought your roommate was there but as soon as you hear his voice, your heart begins to flutter. “Why’s so dark in here are you vampire?”. He states, without a sign of a joke, but you knew it was. You don’t reply, instead you just lay there. You forgot he was coming to your place.

“You dead?”, he snaps at you, while he makes room for himself on your bed. I wish, you wanted to say, but instead you sit up, loop your arms around him. You buried yourself in his defined chest, feel his heartbeat through his hoodie. “What’s up?”, he asks confused, because he never seen you like this, and you could tell he’s a little overwhelmed with the whole situation. His hands grab your arm, pushing you just a lightly away.

 “Will you fucking tell me what’s up or should I guess?”, he groans annoyed and his tone, you’re normally used to, scatter salt in your open wounds. Right now, you were too sensitive, everything you want is just smelling his scent that calms you down, usually. Right now, you can’t find the peace you desperately looking for.

“Fuck you.”, you mumble, avoiding his eyes. He only scoffed. “I came here to have a little stress relief and now you’re the one making a fuss huh.”, he coldly says, and it hurts. You fucking know. You both are just parties who fuck, nothing more. You fling his hand away. “Go.”. You didn’t want to say this.

He stands up, without a word and you’re hurt. You want to scream at him, tell him how you want- What do you want?

“Text me when you’re not being a brat.”, he adds and you’re about to throw him out of the window. The door shuts loudly, making you realize what just happened. In a blink of an eye, you frighten away the only one you wanted to keep. You kept staring at the door, hoping he would come back, but his wouldn’t happen. You and Levi were just fuck buddies. Noting more nothing less. It was a secret, you told nobody. Not even your shared circle of friends. You were professionals to keep it a secret.

You realize how you fucked up. What did you expect? That he would graze through your hair, kiss your problems away? You didn’t even want it yourself so why were you so desperate for this kind of affection? Levi wasn’t this kind of person, so were you. That’s why it was never complicated; Until now. Until feelings got in the way.

You curse under your breath, keeping the damn tears, not worth of escaping. You ask yourself what just happened.

 …

“I’m fucked.”

Hanji lets out a frustrated sound, their head banging loudly in the table. You’re petting your friend’s head and Erwin lets out a low chuckle. “How often did I tell you to study for this test?”. Hanji growls and you and Erwin exchange gazes. You stretch out your arm, snapping his holy chocolate drink away from him. “Hey, that’s mine?”. You only grin at him, open his favourite drink and taking a delicious sip. “That’s for being a bigmouth.”, you only say and he only scoffs, but gifts you a cheeky smile hat says, ‘payback is bitch’.

“Hanji, let’s study next time okay? If you pass, I’ll give you 10 packs of your favourite gummy bears- “. You couldn’t finish speaking, because Hanji suddenly clings on you, like you’re their personal saviour, robbing the air out of your throat. “How could I deserve a best friend like you?”, they cried out, the whole canteen was looking at you. “Shithead, they’re looking at you.”

A new voice appears. It was Levi and your mind went automatically blank. After the last not so well proceeded meeting, you didn’t speak to each other. A whole weekend has passed, and you weren’t sure how to act. How did you act before? Why was this so hard now?

“Shorty shut up.”, Hanji spats cheekily, while the man only scoffs, takes his seat next to Erwin. You stare onto your plate, not sure what you’re doing, but you felt his eyes for a split second on you, covered under the attention of your friends. You felt your cheeks burning. Damn your body kindly betrays you.

You felt a rough hand on the back of your hand. You knew it was Erwin’s. “Everything’s alright?”, he only whispers, unheard for the others. You look at him, gave him a reassuring smile, that says ‘don’t worry’

You felt his blue eyes bore into you. He doesn’t believe you, while should he? He knows you better than everyone and yet you lie to him, without missing a second. While you two are having a silent argument, the other two doing their duty to insult themselves. They’re friends, actually, even when it doesn’t look like this. What you don’t register are Levi’s glimpses he gave you. He doesn’t want to admit, but his mind found itself at he thought of you and Erwin and he doesn’t like it. You’re not acting like yourself and he secretly wants to know the reasons behind it; But he’s too afraid to ask.

“You want to meet up at the library for the next assignment?”, Erwin asks you and you gladly go along. Studying with Erwin was always calm, organized and precise. You did actually get work done (different with Hanji).

“When?”

“After today’s class and after our study session I treat you your favourite pizza.”. You smile. “I love you; you know that?”, you let out, wanting to smooth your best friend right now. “Hey, what’s with the lovey dovey?”. Hanji speaks up and you only cringe. “What the fuck?”, you’re letting out and nearly fell from your seat. Hanji and you laugh so loud, that you were entertaining the whole area, but it doesn’t matter.

“Erwin did you hear this?”, you choked out, between your laughs that are actually looking painful, because of your tears escaping your eyes. He heard and Levi did too. Suddenly the raven-haired stands up and leaves, without looking at you. You were instantly quiet, followed with your eyes the disappearance of him. It prickles in your chest, because you promptly thought you did something wrong. “Huh, what’s with him?”, Hanji asks, instead of you. Erwin only shrugs. “He didn’t tell me.”, he only adds, leaving no room for more discussion.

You had the sudden urge to follow him; But you knew it was out of question. Levi wanted it to be a secret between you two. You aren’t even sure if this what is between is still there. Being anxious wasn’t even a term. You decided to text him after your study session with Erwin, hoping he would reply.

 ….

Why couldn’t you be so focused like Erwin who looks like the god himself, studying with no break and then he explains everything so nicely to you? How is he even real? Your head feels so heavy, lying on your arm, while Erwin buried himself in the books before him. 

You smiled, while looking at him. Sometimes there was a little voice in your head, asking why you couldn’t have developed feelings for him? He was perfect in every aspect, he cares, and you knew he had a crush for you long time ago. You loved the silence, and the library was the perfect place for it. Just very few students gather in these halls.

“You’re sleepy, y/n.”, the blond states, earns a mumbling from you. “no, I’m studying.”, you answer, and you hear him chuckle. He ruffles trough your hair, ignoring your pouting, while his finger slightly massaging your scalp. “I don’t know drooling on the books is supposed to be studying.”. Instantly you’re straightening your back and wipe the evidence away. “I’ll grab some coffee and then I’m fit for use. You want some too?”, you ask him, while standing up. He waves and you’re making your way.

You hate that you can’t think straight. The situation with Levi nibbles on your nerves and you couldn’t handle these feelings well, already feeling unease in your stomach. You head out of the library, to go to the vending machines, standing some meters away on the side of the library complex. The sun was slowly setting, and you paused for a while. It was nearly 4 pm and the glow was nearly perfect. The sun feels so nice on your skin that you’re nearly drowning in this moment, completely forgetting your environment.

“Oi.”. You snap out of your daydreaming and the first thing you see was him. Levi, who looks like he actually wants to murder you. It wasn’t his normal stern face; he doesn’t seem in the mood at all. “Hi?”, you reply, feeling already giddy. It was his effect on you. You were already on your knees.

“You could at least tell me your feelings before you fucked with me.”

Your eyes wide, unable to process his statement. “Huh?”, was everything that left your lips and he just scoffed. His expression changes. He looks just dead annoyed and kind of arrogant. “Don’t play with me.”.

You didn’t know what he means. “Levi, I don’t get what you mean?”, you seriously tell him, and you feel how you feel your body tremble.

“Oh, you don’t know that you and Erwin have something going on I was just a side thing?”. He finally speaks and you couldn’t believe what he just said.

“I am fucking right and now go to him, he’s waiting.”. Levi turns around, but you were quicker. Ignoring his hateful gaze, that bores into you, you’re blocking his way. Your palms lie on his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat. “you’re an idiot, Levi.”.

“now you’re calling me names. How low.”, he snarls at you, took your hands and threw them away from you. You were a little taken back from his sudden action. “I don’t have anything going on with Erwin. I never had. If you had listened to me, you would know that it was you.”, you finally breathed out, what you always wanted to say; But too scared to do.

“always you.”, you added this in the storm of your feelings. For a bliss you looked into Levi’s grey eyes and then you ran back into the library, leaving him there. Levi is just standing there, in the middle of nothing and totally dumbfounded. He couldn’t handle what you just said. Why did you run away? Levi’s body tell him, to chase you, to ask you if this was true. He really wants to know, but instead of doing so, his body freezes, unable to reach out to you.

Why did he come here in the first place? He assumed that you had feelings for the blond. He watched him, slowly grazing through your hair and he was about to break every knuckle of Erwin’s hand. He had no entitlement to be actually jealous, but he couldn’t stop. He just saw you as someone who’s only there for him. It was out of question for him. He didn’t even have someone beside you. So, when he felt that you’re not like yourself anymore, your eyes miss the sparkle, every time you two are together, he was sure that you liked someone; Not him.

And here you were, telling him with your whole chest, that you like him? Him? Out of all the people that admire you? Levi wouldn’t commit to it loudly, but something in his brain always told him, that he didn’t deserve you at all, not you. When both of you made out at the party month ago, Levi couldn’t believe, that it’s really happened. He was on the constant brink, he could wake up and you’re not laying next to him, your warm skin brushing against his cold one. Now his nightmares were real. He fucked up. He fucked up so bad. You were bare before him, shouting your feelings at him and on the other hand Levi was too scared, too coward to admit.

You were running into the library. You didn’t know where else to go. You just want to leave the scene and him. Erwin instantly notices. His head peaks up, while you try to remain calm; But you couldn’t foul your best friend. He didn’t need to ask where your coffee is or why you had taken so long- He knew. “Let’s get out here, common.”. 

Erwin was a pure angel. You couldn’t speak. Every try you would take; your tears would flow. He grabs your bag, insisting to carry it, while you’re looking like a lost sheep. The blond lead you out of the building and you’re hoping, Levi wouldn’t be there.

You can’t even bring yourself to look around, your eyes are fixed on the ground. “He isn’t here, y/n.”, he reassured you and you could finally breathe. “Erwin, I- “. Instantly tears escaping your eyes and you begin to sob uncontrollably, not finishing your sentence.

“I knew.”, he starts, and you look up to him. You could tell he was disappointed. “I thought you or Levi would tell me, so I waited.”. He sighs, ruffling through your hair, like he always does, and it soothes you a little. “We aren’t in a relationship, I doubt there would be something after this.”, you spoke, feeling your whole body tremble.

“After what?”.

“I confessed my feelings to him, I shouted them, and I ran.”, you answer, and you see Erwin’s little smile, creeping on his lips. “Huh?”

“Why you’re smiling like that?”, you add, waiting for an answer. “You two are unbearable. Thinking we wouldn’t sense something. You two really thought, we were that dense.”

“Hanji too?”. A chuckle was his answer and now you were dumfounded. It was so obvious for them and they kept quiet the whole time? “I hate you both.”, you spat at him with reddened eyes. “We love you too.”. You shove him playfully away, earning a laugh. “I can’t believe you.”, you shout annoyingly. “It’s so damn embarrassing.”

“I found it quite entertaining.”. You punch him. “Anyways it’s over now.”, you breathed out, feeling the tight knot in your heart. “I don’t think so and you know that.”, he interferes. You couldn’t reply to him. You don’t want it to be over. There was this huge misunderstanding between you two, that needs to be solved. He was never a side whatsoever. He was always your first priority, while you were questioning him; To think he thought the same, was draining; to say at least.

“We’ll see.”, was the last thing you would say for now. “I heard you’ll invite me to pizza.”, you changed the topic and Erwin kindly goes along. “I don’t know, when I ever said that.”. Whines left your lips, because he would now play with you. “I have receipts you said that!”, you pout, and he just laughs, leaving the university complex with you.

You knew he would treat you pizza.

….

It was exhausting, draining and everything that is sucking out every last energy you have. Avoiding Levi. It wasn’t your best move, but you didn’t know how to face the older one. Even if you see him in a distance, his raven hair peaks through other people, you ran away. Even Hanji couldn’t believe you two, calling you “lovesick teenager”. You punched them, every time.

Erwin was still around Levi and you were glad he does. They were also friends and you don’t want them to separate, just because you couldn’t talk this out.

“I’m so bad.”, you mumble, with your face buried in your arms. Hanji chuckles. “Looks familiar.”. You groan, wanting nothing more than a good portion of sleep; Forever. “y/n, it isn’t so bad, you can compensate this mark with…”, you don’t listen to them, because it wasn’t just the bad mark that’s on your mind. Your heart aches and it gets stronger, each time you refuse to gain some bravery to speak to him.

“I just wan to see his face…”, you whisper, and you expect Hanji to laugh at you, telling you to ‘just-go-see-him-it-isn’t-that-hard’, but instead there was silence.

“Then why you’re running away from me, woman.”

The first reaction to his voice, was to say ‘fuck’ and you heard Hanji laugh. Fuck. Why was he here, right in front of you and all the others who are watching? Your heart seems to jump out of your chest, while you’re desperately trying to find a way out.

“please go.”, you whisper, not facing him, because your face was red like fire. “No.”, he simply says, and you finally raise your gaze. He stands right before your desk, looking down on you and you feel yourself instantly drawn to him. You hated his effect on you.

“Everyone is watching, you don’t like that.”, you spat, harsher than you want. Why couldn’t you just think straight for once? Levi only scoffs, his hoodie hanging loose on his defined body. “Stop this bullshit y/n and please let us talk.”. Who was he to call this? Why were you so in a mess, that you see his behaviour as provocative?

“I- “. You don’t know anymore. Maybe it was your pride speaking, not yourself. Everything in you was burning, not knowing how to handle the situation well. His eyes soften, ignoring the staring gazes of the others in the lecture hall. “Please.”. The soft and kind of desperate tone in his voice shift something in you. “When?”.

“Now? I heard it was your last lecture.”. You couldn’t decline. You just couldn’t; So, you only nod, excuse yourself from Hanji, who only smiles. You ignore the others, following the man, you’re so deeply in love with, outside. What should you say after your confession?

“Are you free to grab a tea?”, he quietly asks, while you two are heading out of the building. You just nod, having trouble to find the right words.

It was empty on the floor, only your footsteps could be heard. “y/n?”, he breaks the silence and you looked at him. “Can’t you please say something? I- I ‘m not used to you not talking.”, he demands and both halt. Your eyes bore into his. “and I’m not used to this.”, you reply, mentioning his different behaviour.

The mood was tearing. “I know.”.

“but I want to apologize for being such an ass, accusing you of something, just because I couldn’t face my own insecurity of not being good enough for you.”, he breathes out, while his eyes are focused on something else, not looking at you. You could this was difficult for him. His ears were red, not hidden form his silky, black hair.

“Why in the world could you think something like this?”, was the first thing that left your lips. Levi, the most wanted man on the campus was afraid of not being good enough for someone like you? You could only imagine how deep his insecurities root and a part in you always want to discover them.

“The evening, when you left… I was desperate to have you. I just wanted you to hold me, to tell me you’re here and you left.”, you came clean and he looks ropey. It makes your heart ache so much, that you just want to hold him.

“I was anxious, that you want to end things. I misread and I am sorry.”. You sense that he was really sorry. He confesses his feelings out here, not caring for someone to overhear it. “Thank you.”.

Your answer surprises him and you see him searching for words. “I should thank you, y/n. For loving someone like me.”.

That gave you the rest. You instantly found yourself into him. His arms wrap around your frame, drowning you into his scent, you were missing so much. You take a longs exhale, feeling his racing heartbeat against your ear. “you are an idiot.”, you muffle against his hoodie, feeling tears prickling again. He chuckles low, kissing your scalp softly, while his finger grazes over your back. This was more than you could ever ask for. Just him.

“I’m trying y/n okay?”.

You only nod against his chest, squeezing into him more, until you become one. There was more to talk about, but that’s for later.

[kkyaka]

Chapter 9

Summary: A relaxing summer at home after your second year of college sounds nice, until someone comes back and makes it anything but

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x black!fem!reader

Chapter Warnings: none

Word Count: 1893

A/N: This is another FLASHBACK, and this also tells how reader and Ymir met

Chapter Summary: Going to high school with your crush is nowhere near easy

Starting high school was very overwhelming, to say the least. You had friends, so there was nothing wrong there, it just that there were so many people in the hallways. You walked into the school, seeing so many people in the foyer that you could barely make your way through. That was until Eren wrapped his arm around your shoulder, guiding you through the crowd, and you hide your burning face with your hair as you put your head down.

He's greeting a whole bunch of people you don't know, and you don't want them to see you with him. Who knows what they would say. When you get through the traffic, you spot Sasha, and you're brushing Eren's arm off your shoulder, but he doesn't seem to notice as he's already walking away.

"I should've gotten here a little bit earlier," you sigh when you get to her, turning to look at the crowd that just seems to get bigger.

"It doesn't matter. It was already this bad. I had to do a little shoving to get to breakfast," Sasha says, and you chuckle softly as you adjust your backpack on your shoulders. The bell rings, and to your dismay, you and Sasha have to part ways, but luckily for you, the crowd hasn't started to move much, so you decided to get to class early to avoid being late.

You're looking at the floor as you take one of the back hallways that don't have much traffic, watching out for people in your peripheral when someone walks up to you. You stop in your tracks to see a brown-haired girl with freckles who looks your age.

"I'm a little embarrassed to ask you this, but you wouldn't happen to know where this class is, would you?" She shows you her schedule, and you smile as you look back up at her.

"Yeah, that's where I'm headed, so you can just walk with me," you tell her, and she gives you a relieved smile as she pockets the slip of paper as you continue to walk. "You didn't go to the middle school, did you?"

She scoffs lightly. "It's that obvious? But yeah, I am. I moved here over the summer."

"Well, it's nice to meet you. I'm Y/N."

"Ymir." She holds her hand out, and you shake it as you both exchange a laugh. You both found out that you had most of the same classes, which makes sense since you're both freshman, but you have a couple that are at a different time so you show her where to go before walking to yours.

Every class that you don't have with Ymir, you have with Jean or one of your other friends, and this one of those times where you're grateful for them. You and Ymir both have interior design together, and she told you that the only reason that she took it was that nothing else really interested her.

The teacher introduces the class pretty quickly, saying that she's not going to give out any major projects until next week, but if you wanted to draw up some potential designs, you could. Which is what you were doing, it being the only way you could pass time besides getting to Ymir a little better.

You're actually pretty focused on your design when you hear it. You frown at first, thinking you just heard something, but when you hear the whisper again, you look around the room carefully. You're about to give up when your eyes land on the door.

Eren's peaking his head in the door, continuously looking at the teacher to make sure he doesn't get caught. You raise your eyebrows at him and he waves at you. 'Wave back,' he mouths when you just sit there, and you glance at the teacher before throwing him a small wave, knowing that was the only way he was going to leave.

"Is that your boyfriend?" Ymir asks, and you choke, clearing your throat as you wave your hand frantically.

"Oh, no. He's my best friend's step-brother," you explain, your face as hot as the sun. You hope that's not what people are thinking, but you brush it off since Eren's been at the high school longer than you, but you can't help but look around the room to make sure no one else saw the interaction.

"He's pretty hot," she says casually, and you find yourself chuckling harder than you should.

"A real pain in the ass is what he is," you say, diverting from her comment that you don't really know how to respond to, and she laughs lightly before changing the subject.

High school went pretty smoothly for the most part. You and Ymir both became fast friends, introducing her to your friends at lunch. She also seems to hit it off with Historia, someone that you knew but weren't very close with, but she was really nice.

The only part that was a huge bump in the road was Eren. It seems like you're running into him even more now, having to see him almost all the time barely giving you time to recover and get your emotions in check. You accidentally walked by on him making out with his new girl of the month in the middle of the fucking hallway, so from then on, you've been more careful about where you're going and when to go.

You walk into the bustling cafeteria, the sounds of the many conversations jumbling into one fill your ears when you hear your name. You stop short, looking around, your heart skipping when you see Eren waving you over, sitting at the table with his friends.

You look around nervously before you make your way over to him, your palms starting to sweat, stopping when you get in front of him. "What's up?" you ask, hoping you can get out of here as fast as possible.

"Stay awhile, don't be shy," he urges, pulling you down to sit in the empty seat next to him, and now you're sitting at a table full of seniors, feeling like prey trapped by its predator. "I was gonna ask you if you needed a ride today. I don't have practice today."

You quickly shake your head, having a difficult time finding somewhere to look. "Nope," you start, shaking your head. "I've got design club today, so you're all good."

Before you can try and get up, he throws his arm around your shoulder before introducing you in front of his friends. "Hi," you respond shyly after he says everyone's name, but your nerves are already making you forget their names.

"She's so cute!" That comes from Gabi, and you know you won't forget her name, because there's sarcasm underlining her voice, and you just blink at her until someone else speaks up.

"You said you're in the design club. Is that something you want to do?" It's a girl with long black hair, Pieck, you're pretty sure is her name, and you nod.

"Yeah, I want to stage homes for like open houses, stuff like that."

She smiles at you as she nods. "That's pretty cool," and that's the most at ease you've felt since you've sat down. You talk with her for a while before you decide that your nerves have had enough of a beating, and you stand, saying that it was nice meeting them before you walk off.

You just know that if you would've stayed there any longer, you would've had a heart attack.

~

Today was a day where your friends in your lunch all had something to do, and Jean was out sick, so you were sitting at the table by yourself, but you didn't really mind it. At least you could get some work done.

You wipe some of the crumbs off your paper as you finish up the homework, and you jump when you feel an arm wrap around you. "What you working on?" It's Eren, and he's practically breathing down your neck to look at the paper in front of you.

"Math," you reply pitifully, hating how much of a nervous wreck you become whenever he's this close to you. He hums before reaching over your tray, and you snatch the chicken nugget that he steals before putting it into your mouth, and he chuckles.

"Why are you sitting by yourself?"

"None of my friends are here," you respond easily with a shrug, the fact really not bothering you that much. It's not like you sit by yourself every day.

"Then I'll sit with you." You frown as you turn to look at him before you shake your head.

"You don't have to do that. I'm fine," you express. You don't need any situation where you could potentially expose how you feel about him popping up.

"It's no big deal," he dismisses, taking his backpack off and putting it on the seat next to him. It is a big deal, and you try to downplay it as much as you can, but your nervousness is only fueled when all of his other friends start to sit at the table with you.

Pieck sits next to you, so you feel a little better, and when Eren's girl of the week tries to sit next to him, he doesn't move his backpack. "Well then get her to move," she gestures to you, and you feel your face go up in flames as you look down at the table.

"Well, for one, she was here first. And two, she's not moving." You listen to the argument unfold until she's huffing and walking away, and you wish Eren would take his arm off your shoulder.

"You sure stuck up for her," Porco says. You know their names now after being told them again, you aren't as nervous this time so you don't have as much trouble remembering them.

"Of course I did, she's like my sister." Ouch. You know that if you try to move his arm now, it might make it look like something that you don't want anybody to know, and you hope your reaction isn't showing on your face.

"You're a freshman, right?" The question comes from a blonde guy, Will, and you nod your head.

"You don't act like a freshman." This time it comes from Gabi, who's sitting in front of you, and you let out a cautious laugh.

"Is that a good thing?" you ask carefully, not really knowing how to interpret, and she waves you off.

"Yeah. You don't act like the rest of your class. They're all annoying as fuck."

You find yourself laughing at her bluntness, but you agree with her. Some of the kids were just so immature, it actually pissed you off sometimes because you had to be in the same classes as those kids.

"Can't argue with you there." You find that the conversation goes by pretty quickly now that you've started talking to them, and you don't feel nervous, but that's probably because Eren finally took his arm off of you, so you finally feel like you can breathe.

You thought you had your feelings under control or at least managing them properly. But what you never thought that you would be an open book, your stupid crush written all over your face.

[freddiekluger]

BBC GHOSTS FICLET: thomas thorne, reluctantly bi

hi i made this shitpost and ran with it, enjoy

—

The ghosts are gearing up for an argument. again. last week, it was the ethical ramifications of keeping Piers Morgan on an otherwise delightful breakfast program, and the week before it was whether or not Julian should be banned from music club (they settled for a temporary period of non-participatory attendance. There’s only so many times he can swing his hips while singing Boyz II Men before you have to preface his performances with an R18+). This week, it looks like one Regency era poet was to be the subject of debate.

There was plenty about Thomas that prompted the irresistible urge to slap him across the face, as Julian had often remarked, but it’s last night’s binge of the Pride & Prejudice BBC miniseries that has everyone in a tizzy. Thomas had somehow found himself loudly appreciating the Colin-Firth-in-a-wet-shirt lake scene along with Kitty and Mary (even Fanny deigned to saucily raise an eyebrow), and he’s starting to get the impression it’s thrown the others off their rhythm.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Feeling admiration for the muscular intensity of the male form, and being able to express it, is a basic part of appreciating Life’s beauty,” thomas proclaims with the overwhelming confidence of a flat earther adressing a panel of scientists.

“I don’t think saying, and this is a direct quote, that you'd ‘cover his torso in honey and lick it all off’ counts as appreciation, mate.” Pat was pretty sure Thomas had something he needed to share with the proverbial class- they’d been through it all already with the Captain, and Pat definitely wasn’t strong enough to do the four decades of lead up he was actually present for with the Captain all over again with Thomas. “Besides, I’m actually bisexual myself, so I know what I’m talking about.” He smiles warmly in the Captain’s direction, a gesture that goes unnoticed by Thomas.

“Well, that’s all well and good, Pat, but I assure you i’m no pathikos! One could say I’m as ‘straight’ as that chanteur from Wham!”

Julian snorts and leans back, forgetting the ghost thing for a second and almost falling right through the wall behind him. 

“I don’t think that means what you want it to mean,” Robin says, scratching his head.

Thomas was about to deliver a scathing retort when the sun, er Alison, strolls into the room (followed, as ever, by Kitty). Anyone could tell that she was on her way to do something else. Anyone, except Thomas, who’s already bounded up to her and begun to speak.

“Alison! Good morning. Did you sleep well? Of course you did, look at you- now would you kindly inform these simpletons that my objective, intellectual admiration of Mr Firth is nothing more? Honestly, one would think they had never even heard of a romantic friendship,” Thomas finishes with a scoff. It’s safe to say the others didn’t take to kindly to being called simpletons (except for Robin, who’s not quite sure what it means), but Alison manages to summon enough awakeness to respond to exactly one part of Thomas’s monologue. 

“Romantic friendships? You know those weren’t really a thing, right? People just said that so they could be gay and affectionate in public without getting jailed or losing their jobs.” Already tuning out, Alison continues on her mission, which turns out to be joining Mike in the kitchen for breakfast.

“She’s right, you know,” Humphrey chimes in from his place on the floor, startling a nearby Mary. 

“Is that why you got the ker-schhk?” Julian asks, miming a beheading.

“No, that was just a misunderstanding. Tax fraud, light treason, you know how it is.”

Julian nods. He does know.

Kitty sighs happily, “Oh, my mother had a romantic friendship! I remember I once saw her friend crawling under her skirt to help fix her petticoat. It must have been ticklish, I remember mother couldn’t stop shrieking. I always wanted a romantic friend of my own.” Her eyes flit briefly towards Mary, who’s unknowingly about to open the floodgates.

First, Robin barks out a laugh. “Case closed.” 

“Are Thomas’s late night meetings with the Captain not to be mentioned?”, Mary asks with a mischevous grin. 

Fanny rolls her eyes. “I think they were more than meetings, Mary.”

Julian adds a subtle “Whoomp, there it is”. Thomas was beginning to feel aggravated that the conversation had turned away from him (if his sexual proclivities were to be up for debate, at least let him be the centre of attention), but come on! He was just trying to do a nice thing for a friend- associate? fellow ghost who you have no choice but to stand?- and by the redness and failed attempts at denial coming out of the Captain, it looks like he regrets it. 

Alison, still in the kitchen, has tuned right back in and is doing her best not to laugh. Right now, her best is not very good.

At the same time as Alison’s eavesdropping and the Captain’s spluttering, Pat can’t help but yell “See?! THAT’S gay!”

Julian raises his hand. “I also ‘met up’ with Thorne more than once.”

“We agreed NOT to speak of that!”

“So did we, but now bloody Mary knows,” the Captain grumbles.

Mary isn’t done yet. “I once saws him firting with a plague spirit! Not the lady one, mind you, the tall one with the curled hair.”

Robin is starting to feel insecure- Thomas never once hit on him.

Thomas would have stood bolt upright, had he not already been standing. “I’ll have you know, Mary, that I would never have relations with a plague victim.”

"Didn’t stop you from tryin’ though, did it!”

Fanny’s arms are folded as ever, but her facial expressions are downright acrobatic. “Honestly, you’re almost as bad as Julian!” Julian looks a little too chuffed at that remark.

Thomas concedes. “Alright, I’ll grant you that. But I’m not a fool, I know the classics, it’s only gay if you’re on the bottom and I was n-”

Thomas is cut off by the ghosts yelling. They’re split on the reasons- Pat, Robin, and Julian are yelling because it hasn’t worked like that for thousands of years before Thomas was even born, while Mary, Fanny, and the Captain find Thomas’s assertion to be a hallmark case of Too Much Information. Humphrey and Kitty are on the fence, but just like to be included.

Alison has totally lost her composure now, prompting so much concern from Mike that he’s abandoned his cornflakes. 

"What’s wrong- is it a ghost thing?”

Alison nods.

"Care to explain?”

Alison takes a deep breath, racing through the details as quickly as possible to avoid falling behind while the ghosts continue to yell and wave their arms in the next room.

"I think Thomas has slept with Julian and the Captain and has been arguing with the rest of the ghosts that he’s completely heterosexual, while they all yell at him. Also Pat’s bisexual, I’m pretty sure Kitty’s mum had a lesbian lover, Humphrey was beheaded for tax fraud, and Robin’s upset that Thomas didn’t try to sleep with him because according to Mary he even tried it on with a plague ghost.”

Mike whistles. “They don’t waste any time, do they? Wait, how does T… Toby-”

"-Thomas.”

"Thomas, how does Thomas think he’s still straight?”

“Apparently, according to the classics, it’s not gay if you’re on top.” Alison lets out an amused groan. It appears Thomas’s total lack of awareness isn’t just limited to her boundaries.

Rejoining the ghosts, Thomas has finally raised his hands in defeat. “Fine! Maybe I am a little unisexual, or whatever it is you said.”

“Bisexual,” Pat and Julian say in unison. 

Thomas shrugs. It’s not like it matters to him anyway. Although that does explain one or two (or ten) encounters at Hampstead Heath back in his day. Doesn’t matter who they belong to, Thomas Thorne is a sucker for beautiful eyes and a few other things he’s far too gentlemanly to mention.

[chincilla-on-the-moon]

“I like you too idiot.”- Connor Murphy X Reader

Request: can u do a connor x reader where reader is being pretty annoyed with Jared on the first day (like when he calls him a school shooter) and he steps in and defends her leading timo a nice friendship and a love confession from Connor at the end? I’m sending love, and if u can’t it is really ok, everyone’s mental health is important, pls don’t feel overwhelmed 💕✨🦋- Anon 

Word Count: 2,542

Warnings: A couple swears and Jared Klienman being a dick. (also Connor is probs written ooc but whatever)

Authors note: Hi everyone! First of all I just want to say thank you to everyone who requested something! I am trying to work on them but I recently fell into a really bad place mentally but I’m working on making it better. I hope to have the other requests out soon but please be patient with me. Also anon I used they/them pronouns for the reader as those are my pronouns and I want to make sure everyone can I enjoy my writing regardless of gender so I hope that okay.  As always thank you for reading and I hope you have a good day/night! :) <3 (Also any feedback is very appreciated. )

First day of senior year. To say you weren’t excited would be the understatement of the century. Sure you were excited to finally get out of your hometown but you had to get through the school year first and if the previous years were any indication of how this year was going to go, well lets just say it's going to be a long year. 

You pulled into the student parking lot in your shitty car and saw there were a couple extra minutes before you actually had to be in the building, With that in mind you decided to just put your head down  on the steering wheel for a few minutes to prepare yourself for the day ahead. 

That peace was short lived though because not even  30 seconds later did a dark truck pulled up next to you. Before the car could even come to a stop Zoe Murphy flew out of the passenger seat. She flipped off the driver, who you presumed was her brother Connor, and slammed the door before storming off into the school. “Jesus” you mutter  to yourself. Then another door slammed and Connor Murphy appeared in front of the truck, talking and gesturing wildly to himself. You could only make out bits and pieces of what the boy was saying before he went into the school like his sister. You heard him say something about his mom and his bitch sister and not even wanting to be there. Well at least you weren't alone in the feeling. Following the Murphy siblings you begrudgingly went into the building. The friendly secretary greated you and handed you your schedule which had your locker number on it. After searching for a few minutes you found it and just as you were starting to put things in your locker  you heard his voice, Jared Klienman. He was talking to Evan Hansen and you prayed to whatever higher being that could hear you that he would leave you alone. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case. 

“Well, well, well if it isn’t L/N.” You could practically hear the shit-eating grin he had on his stupid face. You were about to turn around and tell him to go away but before you could someone comes between the two of you blocking Jared from your view. 

“Fuck off Klienman” says the last person you expected, Connor Murphy. 

“Woah calm down Murphy, I’m just trying to have a conversation with Y/N here” Jared says starting to back up and putting his arms up as a way of showing his surrender.

“Well they obviously don’t want to talk to you. Now get out of here before I punch that stupid smirk off your dumb face,” Connor says squaring off his shoulders in an attempt to look even more intimidating than usual. It worked quite well because Jared was practically running off but not before making a dig at Connor.

“Yeah whatever you fucking freak.”

You saw Connor’s shoulders tense and his hands clenched into fists. You didn’t know what to do but figured it would be best to leave the boy alone, so you just fidgeted with your hands. He took a deep breath then turned to face you. 

“Uhm thanks for that. You really didn’t have to,” you say avoiding eye contact with him, which was quite easy considering how tall he was compared to you. 

“No problem, I know how much of a dick Klienman can be.” 

“Yeah he’s the worst,” you say scoffing lightly. Then the bell signaling you were supposed to be in homeroom rang.“See you around Connor. Thanks again,” you say before turning to shut your locker and rush to class. 

“Yeah see you around,” Connor says to no one because you were already down the hall.

The rest of the day wasn’t much better, nothing happened in particular but it just still wasn’t the best. After what felt like an eternity it was finally the last bell of the day, creative writing. You weren’t particularly interested in writing but you had a bell to fill so you figured why not. When you walked in you did a scan of the room and saw Connor, he had an empty seat next to him at the back of the room so you decided to sit it in. “Hey,” you say, startling the boy who was previously staring into space. 

“Oh hey.”

“Thanks again for this morning, I really appreciate it dude,” you say making eye contact with Connor so he would know you actually meant what you were saying.

“Oh yeah, it was nothing. Don’t worry about it,” he says, giving you a small smile. You smiled back just as your teacher walked in which caused the conversation to end. 

“Good afternoon class! I hope all of your days have been tolerable,” says your teacher Mr. Davidson. He was a younger man in his early 30’s which meant everyone liked him including you.  “Instead of doing an ice breaker where you all lie about how interesting your summers were I want you to get to actually get to know someone in this class a little better,” he says from behind his podium at the front of the class. You were starting to panic a little, who were you going to partner up with? None of your kind of friends were in this class!  Then Connor cleared his throat grabbing your attention.

“Hey Y/N, wanna be partners?” The nervous energy was practically radiating off the boy. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Sure Connor.” The two of you then got up and turned your desks to face each other like the other pairs were doing. “So Murphy what’s your deepest darkest secret?” you say, smirking.

“Woah L/N, not even going to ask me my favorite color or anything?” he says chuckling.

“Okay, okay, fine,” you say playfully rolling your eyes. “What’s your favorite color Connor?” 

“Dark green. What about you L/N? What's your favorite color?”

“Y/F/C,” you say. “It’s been my favorite since I was younger,” you say shrugging.

“I respect that. It’s a good color.” 

“Yeah whatever, now can I hear your deepest secret?”, you say almost like a child.

“Wow you’re still on this?”, he says with amusement evident in his tone. 

“Yeah I am!” you say in a mock seriousness. “Mr. Davidson says we are supposed to actually get to know each other and that’s what I’m trying to do Murphy!” 

“You’re absolutely right Y/N,” he says suddenly very serious.

“Okay fine I’ll tell you but you have to swear you won’t tell anyone. 

“Not a soul,” you say staring at him intently and sitting at the edge of your seat. 

“Well, here goes nothing.” He made eye contact and it felt as if he was staring into your soul. “I’m pregnant.”

You maintained eye contact until you actually processed what he said, then the two of you started laughing which caused the rest of the class to turn and look at you but for once you didn’t even care because you were actually happy for the first time in what felt like forever. 

The rest of the class went by faster than you or Connor wanted it to, but the two of you walked out to the student parking lot together and paused when you reached your cars. “Uh see you tomorrow I guess,” you say but it comes out as more of a question. 

“Yeah see you tomorrow Y/N”, Connor says very confidently which surprised you both. You waved as a final goodbye and got into your cars. As you were driving home you thought about all the awful things you heard about Connor in the past and how untrue they were. Sure he was intimidating at first glance but he’s six feet tall for goodness sake who wouldn’t be intimidated by that. You could tell from the short  class period you spent getting to know him that he was simply misunderstood.  Suddenly you were glad you never listened to what all the popular kids said about Connor. 

As the school year went on you and Connor developed a sort of unspoken ritual, you would wait for Connor to get to school then you two would walk to homeroom together and then walk to your cars when the school day was over. The two of you became good friends and you found yourself actually looking forward to waking up in the morning so you could see him. The pair of you  had hung out outside of school a few times and you had actually met Connor’s mom, granted it was an accident but it still happened. 

You and Connor decided to hang out at his house because his family wasn’t home that afternoon, the two of you were lounging on the couch watching some weird movie when you heard the front door open. “Connor dear? Is that you in there?” Suddenly an middle aged woman with red hair appeared with reusable grocery bags in her hands. 

“Mom?!” Connor jumped up from the couch in a panic. “I thought you had yoga today?!”

“Class was canceled because Cindy wasn’t feeling well. Oh I stopped by the store and  got those  snacks you asked for!” she said coming into the living room box in hand. “Oh? Connor, who's your friend?” she said with a small smile appearing on her lips. 

“Hi Mrs. Murphy. I’m Y/N,” you said nervously. 

“Oh call me Cynthia dear,” she said, shooting you a smile. 

After that Cynthia invited you to stay for dinner but you already had plans with your parents that night. She invited you a couple times after that as well. You never actually went cause Connor didn’t want you to but still it was nice to know she liked you enough to invite you to dinner. 

As fall came to a close the two of you  became attached at the hip, constantly talking to one another whether it was in person or through the phone. Once the holiday season rolled around you guys got each other gifts. You got Connor a signed book from his favorite author and he got you a vinyl you had been wanting for a while.

 Once the holiday break was over the end of the first semester came quickly and you couldn’t wait to finally be done with your half year courses and start the new ones. Unfortunately you had to take finals before you could be done. Although you only had two finals you were still extremely stressed out. Sure they were easy classes but the teachers were notorious for giving impossible finals. You spent the few days before the finals studying whenever there was a free moment. Connor knew you were stressed so he helped you the best he could. He offered to have study sessions even though none of his classes had finals, he went over quizlets on video calls, and he even brought you a drink with way too much caffeine on the mornings he knew you didn’t sleep. 

Once the day arrived he texted you good luck. You went into the first test and totally nailed it. Before the next testing time there was a break and when you checked your phone you saw Connor had texted you telling you how proud he was of you for studying so hard and reassuring you that you had these exams in the bag. You sent him a quick “thank you :))” and went into the testing room for the second time. This exam was a little harder than the last but you still thought you did decent. There were a couple times where Connor and his stupid mneumonic devices actually came in handy. Letting out a giant breath of relief as you stepped out of the testing room you couldn’t wait to tell Connor about how much he helped. When you reached your locker and got your phone out of it you saw Connor had asked if you wanted to hang out when you were done. Obviously you said yes and told him to pick you up at your house in 15. You drove home and changed out of your testing outfit which was just sweatpants and a hoodie and put on something a little more presentable. Sure you were just going to hang out with your best friend but he also is the boy you’ve been pining over for months. You’ve always found Connor attractive and when he put dickhead Klienman in his place that made him all the more hot. But then you really got to know him and you fell. Hard.  He was sweet, caring, smart, and funny. Sure he had his moments but so did everyone on the planet. He had actually opened up to you about his struggles with his mental health and you did everything you could to support him. You encouraged him to ask his parents for therapy, and always made sure he took his meds in the morning. You were there for him and he was always there for you.  

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard the horn of Connor’s truck outside your house. You rushed outside and got into the passenger seat, “So where to Murphy?”

“I was thinking we could get some food and just chill in a parking lot somewhere. Sound cool?”

“Definitely. I’ve missed hanging out with you. Stupid finals,” you say with a dramatic eye roll. 

“Yeah I’ve missed hanging out with you too dork,” he says reaching over the center console and ruffling your hair. 

“Connor Murphy! I just brushed my hair and here you go messing it up!” you say while trying to fix your now disbelieved hair. 

“Whatever L/N. It still looks fine to me.”  Although it was barely a compliment, heat still rushed to your cheeks. He pulled out of your driveway and the two of you were off. On the way to get food you guys caught up talking about everything you missed in the world of Connor because you were too focused on finals. He told you he finished a TV show you recommend and loved it.  You made it to the drive through and Connor ordered, already knowing what you wanted from your many midnight outings. Once you got your food you made your way to the plaza parking lot where the restaurant was located. For the first couple minutes the two of you sat in a comfortable silence listening to the playlist Connor had made for this type of occasion. After a few minutes Connor suddenly spoke, “Can I tell you something?”

“Connor dearest you know you can tell me anything,” you say with a french fry in your mouth, not even bothering to look at him. 

“I like you.” You choked on the fry you had in your mouth. 

“Pardon?” you say through a cough. 

“I said I like you,” he says, a little less sure of himself. When you looked over at Connor you saw he was staring straight ahead. 

“Hey Connor.” 

“Mhm,” he says, not daring to move. 

“Look at me.” He just barely turned his head towards you. “I like you too idiot.”

[forthekags]

Number Nine

Kageyama x FemReader

Part Three

Read Part 2 Here

Read Part 1 Here

About: You were introduced to the Karasuno Boys’ Volleyball club during your second year. Yachi needed help after Kiyoko had taken her leave, so she asked you to join her. Although, it would have been smarter to look for a first year, but you were new and looked lonely. When you met the boys you were bit overwhelmed but they grew on you in no time. Kageyama was a little rough around the edges at first, he was awkward and couldn’t hold eye-contact. He was a blushing baboon for the first few days. He was sure to keep his distance but you only found it exciting and hilarious. Sure enough you two became friends from all your taunting and teasing. You’re about to enter your third year, and this was your make it or break it. You had to start thinking about your own future- and so did Kageyama.

Thunder

"Hey, Y/N?" Yachi had a nervous voice when she approached you. It was lunchtime and instead of taking your nap like scheduled, you were bouncing the ball on the side of the building. A bit aggressive, in Yachi's opinion. 

"Hey whatsup," you greeted. 

"Um, is everything okay with Kageyama?" You smacked the ball harder. "I just wanted to make sure because well I haven't seen you two talk to each other the past two days. And Hinata told me that Kageyama has been asking him for help on his homework." You hit the ball so hard, it lost control and flew right past you. You groaned and banged your hand on your head. “Did you have a fight or something? Why is he not studying with you anymore?”

You jogged over to get it and Yachi followed. 

"Look Yachi," you said nonchalantly, "I'm not really his babysitter or whatever. So I can't tell you what's going on inside that empty skull of his." 

"Sorry… I just- I thought… nevermind." She offered a smile, "I’ll figure it out." 

You released a breath, a bit shaken up from the extra physical activity and the mental burden of an abnormal Kageyama. It wasn’t your job to get him back to normal. He’s a big boy, someone who can handle their own issues so you shouldn’t feel bad about turning Yachi down. If she was intensely worried, maybe she should go ask him directly. 

How bad could it be? 

It had been two days since your little argument. You had missed morning practice and the beginning time of your first class because you woke up late. He’s always there for morning practice and that didn’t change but stopping by your house did. Your mom usually lets him in so he can get your lazy butt out of bed, so when he didn’t show up... there wasn’t anyone to wake you up. 

Kageyama had been turning in crappy homework, it was a small plummet in his work so that itself put him a bit on edge. During his study time with Yachi and Hinata, he’d spend most of the time arguing with Hinata about taking up too much space or explaining it too fast. And you, you weren’t sleeping during lunch partly because you had to do some work for your first class causing you to be a little sour to anyone who tries to have a conversation with you. During after-school practices, the whole team felt the strange tension between you two. How you didn’t want to look at his way and how he pretended you weren’t even there. He would be long gone before you changed out of your gym outfit when practice was done, so you walked home alone. 

Little did you both know that Yachi was getting real sick and tired of it. After your conversation with her, she marched to where Shoyo had been waiting around the corner. He was annoyed too with Kageyama’s increase in abuse. He was scared that if this kept up, that there’d be a full-on fight between the King and Tsukishima. However, Tsuki had also been a bit quieter, not enough but a noticeable amount. 

They ended up coming up with a plan. A plan that would get you two in the same room and be forced to talk to each other. That way whatever happened can be sorted out and things will go back to normal in no time. At least, that’s what Hinata thought. Yachi thought it would worsen things and you two would just end up arguing more. Though Hinata said that was a good outcome too. Needless to say, the plan was in motion and their setup was a success.

After school, instead of going to practice, you headed towards Mr. Shota’s classroom to receive your punishment. You had the luck to have an altercation with Mr. Shota while he was in a sour mood. He was known for giving detentions like a grocery store taste test. You don’t get detention, it never seemed to come up, but this week hasn’t been a normal week for you… You couldn’t find your skirt uniform after your recreational time, so you went with your gym pants to class and passed by Mr. Shota himself. He didn’t even give you a chance to explain! You went back to look for your damn skirt uniform and found it in the exact place you left it. When you walked out with the proper attire, Mr. Shota saw you again and assumed you were lying either way. 

When you stepped into his classroom, there were three other people already there. Poor souls that were in Mr. Shota’s line of sight. As you took a seat and made some shuffling sounds, they turned their heads to look at you and there he was. Kageyama was sitting in the second row near the windows on the third seat, he quickly looked away when you looked his way. His cheeks burned with an unknown feeling so he covered them up by resting his head on his hands and his elbows on the desk. 

Kageyama was in there because Hinata had triggered some sort of river of cuss words in him. Mr. Shota was not very fond of it. He sulked about it the rest of the day until now, because now he was sulking about you. He won’t admit it to anyone but he hated ignoring you. It was so much work. He wasn’t even mad at you, he just couldn’t look at you- not in an angry way! Just… that… it was something he was still trying to figure out. Unfortunately you were mad at him. 

Every time he’d look away you would get angry. You didn’t understand what was going on with him and he wouldn’t tell you, so good riddance. 

You sat near the back and closer to the back door- far away from him. 

“Great you’re all here- I don’t have to go searching in club rooms.” Mr. Shota sounded like he was over this teaching and disciplining. You quietly thought why would he create a reason for him to stay later than he should. “My room needs deep cleaning, it’s about that time anyway, and the music room is worse. Since it’s four of you, Hiro and Miyamoto you’ll be in here while Y/N and Kag-”

“No!” You jumped out of your seat.

“Y/N! Do you want another day added?” 

“No no no… but can I clean your class instead, Mr. Shota?” You had all eyes on you because of your little outburst but you begged either way. The awkward tension that will emit during this will kill you for sure. 

“Oh of course let me give you a hand while I’m at it.” His voice dripped with sarcasm but his facial expression was stoic. “Lying is a great deal Miss Y/N, especially when it’s done to a teacher. You get the music room with potty mouth over here.”

“But I didn’t lie-”

“Enough, Y/N.” That sat you back down, defeated and upset. 

Tobio was a bit hurt. No- not just a bit- he was pained that you were so bothered by being in the same room as him. You two were friends, right? He’s never been so close to someone before. He’s never been able to keep a friend for this long… Other than the team, you were always there. Even outside of school, he’s never one to hang out with people- it’s too much sometimes- but with you. Well, he likes hanging out with you. 

You two followed Mr. Shota to the music room and listened to his instructions and warnings. He gave you one last warning about that attitude, it was irking him. While you stared away, Kags would glance every now and then. He wanted to make sure you were okay, but didn’t know if he should keep his distance or go for it and apologize. What did he need to apologize for? Not going over… ignoring you… Okay, yeah he needs to say sorry for that. 

But what if you bring up that thing again. The whole reason you had that one argument. 

You polished some instruments until you could see your reflection and put them away neatly. It was therapeutic for the most part, but when the other person in the room would move some chair to broom the area, it would throw you off again. Mr. Shota exaggerated when he said it was a mess in here. It was disorganized, sure, but nothing tear-worthy. 

“Y/N?” You looked up and matched Kageyama's confused eyes. There was a pause while you expected him to continue. He was looking for the right words… "Are we… Are we still friends?" 

His voice was low and he blushed from embarrassment while avoiding eye contact. Something fluttered in your chest, a familiar feeling, and it made you soften your features. You looked away and took some time to ponder the question. Not that you needed any, because you already knew the obvious answer. 

"Yes," you say- a little bothered and aggressive but sincere. "Friends fight, it's normal." You pick up the instrument and put it away then move on to the next. This time you were cleaning it a bit more aggressively. As if you were irritated with the inanimate object. 

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He couldn't help but smile in relief, he wasn't going to lose you. 

"So… Can I come over today?" 

You dropped the instrument and made a few of them chatter with each other. They made a ruckus as they hit one another and toppled over a nearby stand. Kageyama rushed over to help you before you two got in trouble again, especially since you were already walking on a tightrope with the teacher.

You were bamboozled, like a sneak attack on a careless soldier. This boy might be the most oblivious airhead you’ll ever meet. How did he think that was okay to ask? 

“Leave it!” You picked up the instrument that he was reaching for along with the many others. Soon you were carrying eight different instruments with a variety of sizes in your arms looking like one breeze will knock you over. 

“Y/N, you’re going to hurt yourself or break one of those things!” He hesitated in reaching over, rightfully so because you threw a glare at him when he neared you. 

“I’m not going to break one of these things, I am perfectly capable of doing it myself!” You got your footing back and mentally thanked the gods, and a second later you hear a clank hit the ground. One of the flutes slipped through your fingers and chipped. Your eyes widened and you glanced back at Kageyama who looked like he was about to make a run for it. “So much for a volleyball player, Kags!”

“What! Did you want me to receive it and throw it up in the air?” He asked bewildered. 

“Aren’t you supposed to have fast reflexes, you turdball!” 

“You’re the one who didn’t let me help you with all those!”

“God, I am so telling Coach about you lacking,” you threatened. “Well don’t just stand there! Help me with this!” 

He rushed over and grabbed the big ones from your arms. You rubbed away any scratches and evidence of a disturbance before putting them up. Kageyama stood there until you got all of them one by one from his arms now. He had a pouting face but didn't say anything during that time. 

"I'm still mad at you," you mumbled. His pout only annoyed you because you were in between pinching his cheek and stomping his foot. Only because his cheeks show up more and his eyes are always avoiding, and his lips do this thing where his bottom lip sticks out more from frowning. Kageyama only has a handful of intense expressions, most of which can be seen whenever he's on the court. But when he's not, he gets embarrassed and upset and tired and nervous. And when you're not watching, he gets excited and soft and hurt. 

But they were rare, so when it happens in front of you, you can't help but appreciate it or tease it. 

"I'm sorry," he said. "Really, I am. It's just… I still haven't figured it out." 

"What is it about?" You wanted him to know that you were there if he needed you. And, you wanted your best friend back. 

"I promise you'll be the first person I tell." 

You rolled your eyes. "As if that's saying anything, who else would you even tell?" He chuckled and that made you smile. You can still humor him, that's good to know. 

"No one that matters as much," he sighed. He wasn't looking directly at you, he said it more as if he was saying it to himself or if it was like a distant memory. "So… Can I come over?" He asked again. 

You started tapping your finger on your chin, as if you were pondering the question. "Only if you buy me tea for a week! Morning AND afternoon!" You raised your pinky in the air and waited for his word.

"A week! Do you think I'm rich!?" He looked at you crazy but you were determined. 

"Not after this week," you said.

He groaned and huffed but took your pinky with his, sealing the compromise. He was warm compared to your freezing hands, so much that it surprised you. Your eyebrows raised and you quickly grabbed onto his hand with both of yours. 

"Ah! You're ice cold, Y/N!" He tried pulling back but you held on. 

"And you're soooo warm!"

[osamiiya]

From Me, the Moon

Pairings: Bakugou x reader

Warnings: Cussing, Angst, cheating, mature themes, not nsfw but there’s mention of it.

A/n: My first attempt at angst! This is also based off the lyrics of Lav’s “From Me, the Moon”. Yes I know it’s from a girl to another girl, but I like the lyrics and I’m in no way trying to make the song straight. I just got the idea for the fic.

Summary: It’s been two years since Bakugou kissed her, two years since he broke your heart.

Your apartment is quiet as you set your keys in the key bowl.

Two years, and you still look the same

It’s been quiet for two years now, feelings you thought were pushed away from countless nights crying on Mina, Uraraka, and Momo’s shoulders, and nursing a beer at a random bar, not caring who took you home that night, empty sex with nameless faces, always gone before 7. Until he showed up at your work.

‘He still wore his ring’ You noted, mentally scoffing.

Wide blinking eyes look at me the same way. Do my lips take you back to June? Do my lips make you miss me too?

'He kept staring.’ you think as you take your shoes off.

A typical Monday, you were just writing down appointments, the same forced charming smile plastered on your face as people came in booking appointments to meet with a lawyer. Shuddering when be you caught his wide eyes, flicking from your eyes to your lips, bright vermilion, a colour that he would often kiss off of you.

When he approached you cleared your throat, acting as if you never knew him.

“How can I help you?”

“Tell me if I’m too late. If all those years are all gone.”

“I’m sorry sir, if you aren’t here to book an appointment I’m going to have to ask you to kindly leave the line.” You don’t miss the way his voice cracks as he books an appointment.

“Who does he think he is.” You fume, beer and opener in hand.

“Tell me if I’m too late. If all those years are all gone” You mock, talking to your refrigerator.

Two years ago

Four years. Dating for three, engaged for one, but it felt like longer, mutual feelings for each other since you could remember. Shy glances in the hallways, stolen kisses in between classes. Never becoming official because, well, “Once I become a hero and can buy her the prettiest ring”.

And he did. Hell, it was the week before the wedding the pretty diamond sitting happily on your left hand. As you prepared for the wedding. Dress, flowers, venue, invitations. The wedding preparations taking up all your time, he never even bothered to help. Claiming he had “work”.

Maybe he was stressed about the wedding, God knows you were stressing about it too.

Fiddling with your ring as you parked into the driveway, he’d enjoy you home early wouldn’t he?

You ignored the way Bakugou began to pull away emotionally, at first, then physically.

Only an empty “I love you” and a quick kiss on the cheek as he left in the morning.

He got home late and went straight to bed.

No, he still loved you. You don’t marry someone you don’t love.

Yes, the two of you were “grossly in love” as Mina would put it. It’s just the honeymoon phase that ended.

'He would be back to normal after the wedding.’

You turn the knob to the front door. The air smells of sex and alcohol, and there’s voices from the bedroom that are too real to be porn.

The previous pounding in your heart stops. There’s tv static in your ears and it’s hard to breathe.

Your legs are on autopilot, walking the same route to the bedroom as you always have, the smell thicker here, and the sounds louder.

Your right hand is shaking as you take the ring off your left hand, it feels hot, like it’s burning into your skin.

You open the door, and it feels like a punch to the face. Red eyes snapping onto yours, wide and filled with fear. He’s not wearing the ring.

The girl starts sobbing with apologies, she sees the ring in your hand.

Your heart feels too big for your chest, and your face goes numb, you can’t even feel the tears that started to fall.

“I’m home.” You whisper.

It’s like a spell is broken when you drop the ring on the floor, your body moving on autopilot as you briskly walk to the front door, not stopping as you grab your coat and keys.

“Y/n!” You’re halfway to your car when he grabs your arm.

He’s sweaty, and the smell of another girl’s perfume is overwhelming, you feel like throwing up. He hasn’t bothered to put on a shirt, he must have haphazardly thrown on a pair of sweats.

The dark marks on his torso and the red scratches down his arms and what you can assume are also on his back are angry and red.

“You don’t understand-”

A smile makes its way onto your face, it’s sad, and only a shadow of the bright ones that make Bakugou’s heart squeeze.

“I’m sorry.” You’re still smiling, but now your lips are shaking and it looks way to forced as tears speed down your face.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you.” You gently take your arm our of his grip, and Bakugou feels like his chest is too small for his heart.

“I don’t blame you.” You’re voice is shakey and you’re wiping tears slower than they’re coming down.

“I don’t blame you, but Jesus Christ Bakugou, it hurts.” It’s a stab to the chest for Bakugou, what happened to Katsuki, Suki? Bubba?

“Oh god, Bakugou it hurts” You’re openly sobbing now. Chest heaving with shudders, as your legs give out, and you’re on the floor.

“Y/n we can talk about this- I love you.” His voice cracks as he runs his hands through his hair, he looks so vulnerable as his hands shake, scared to reach out and touch you, but he needs to hold you.

“The ring is in the house.” You’re wiping your nose, sobbing in the driveway.

“Take it with you as you go.” Bakugou finds himself nodding, why is he nodding? He needs to fight for you, he’s crying, eyes bloodshot as tears run down his face.

“Don’t leave me, I need you.” He sounds broken, like a child who’s lost everything. And to Bakugou? He has.

You find yourself nodding 'no’, your body is tired and the tears have stopped falling.

“I’m tired 'suki.” Bakugou sobs harder.

“I hope it was worth it Bakugou. I hope that you enjoyed the 4 years as much as I have.”

Bakugou’s like a broken record, sobbing and shaking his head as he whispers 'no.“

'It was a mistake’ He thinks 'I don’t love her, only you.’ He wants to scream for you to hear, but the tired face and scraped hands that you hold together make his throat squeeze, it’s hard to speak and it’s hard to breathe.”

You lean over to him, kissing him on the cheek, your lips tasting salty from his tears.

“Have a good life with her ok? She must be pretty special for you to choose her.”

And then you’re getting in your car, body numb and on autopilot as you drive to Mina’s. Screaming and sobbing as she cries with you, seeing you in pain too much for her.

A few weeks later, like a stab to the heart you walked into an empty apartment. The air smelled of bleach and cleaning product.

Maybe it was for the best.

You walked into the bedroom, hoping that the last week’s we’re all a nightmare, but the bed’s gone, thank goodness, and his part of the closet is empty, a letter in the middle of the floor.

Your heart constricts as you read it, no, not from Bakugou, but from a girl named Uraraka. The page is blotches with tears, as she writes about meeting him, he approached her and they began dating. He kept the closets shut, and the bathroom was clear of any women’s products. Even the pads under the sink had an explanation connecting to his friend.

She writes about how she never questioned it, too infatuated with the rugged charming guy. Who insulted you but made you feel like the sun.

She wrote her number, claiming she broke it off with him, blocking him after screaming his ear off. She wants to have coffee sometime. She knows it’s not totally her fault, and it’s sure as hell not yours.

Which brings you to now, becoming close friends with her, introducing her to a single friend of yours. Midoriya, who treats her like she hung the stars.

A knock at your door brings you out of your thoughts, the beer in your hand warmer now, the condensation dripping down the bottle and onto the floor.

“Coming!” You call, wiping your hands on a towel, the door opens to Bakugou.

You close the door as soon as you open it. Locking the door as you hear protests from the other side.

Do you still keep counting my sins? Will your heart ever forgive my skin?

“How much longer are you going to avoid talking.”

You hear a thump on the door that has to be his head.

“Will you ever forgive me?”

You open the door.

“Bakugou, I’ve moved on.” lie “I’ve found someone else for me.” lie, they’re all lies to protect your heart.

How many more first kisses?

How many more first kisses? Are you gonna watch me pick up the pieces? I know you miss the furrow in my brows. And I could be in your arms now

“I’m sorry, it was a mistake, It didn’t mean anything.”

You look the same Bakugou confirms. Hair a little longer, and face a little more tired, but still beautiful, still his y/n.

“I still love you.” He reaches his arm out to you.

“You hurt me Bakugou, and I’ve moved on. I meant what I said that night.” You’re smiling, it’s bittersweet, but you don’t think you’re going to cry.

“No, I can’t find anyone better than you, you’re the best thing to ever happen and I was a dumbass to think that girl was worth it.”

Your smile becomes slightly strained.

“Uraraka and I are really good friends now, I suppose I have you to thank.”

Bakugou’s eyes are wide.

“It’s been two years Bakugou, you don’t get to suddenly appear and spout nonsense like it’ll fix what is beyond repair.”

Tell me if the years are all gone. Is the moon still in love with the sun? Do you still keep counting my sins? And how do I win?

“Neither of us can fix this Bakugou.” You sigh, a hand rubbing your temples, trying to fight the oncoming headache.

“I still love you Bakugou.” You sigh, no more lying.

“Then we can-” Bakugou starts.

“But my heart is terrified of getting hurt again. I think I’ll always love you. I don’t think I can stop. And truthfully? You were everything to me, and from the moment you kissed her, it all came crashing down around me. The home I built in your agressive nature, the plans I had for the wedding, our whole future. It just came crashing down.” Bakugou stands there silently.

“I thought I was going to die, my heart hurt so badly.” You sigh, wanting to get back to your beer warming up on the counter.

“That’s why Bakugou, it has to be over. It has to or all the work I spent building up myself after that will be for nothing. I didn’t cry myself to sleep to crawl back into your arms at your call.”

“Thanks for coming by, and thanks for letting me love you.”

With that the door was closed, and the final part of your broken heart healed.

To the first boy who lit me a flame. Does your heart still remember my name?

[izzabeean]

Chapter 8 : Restless

SUMMARY

Now that you’ve temporarily moved into Oikawa’s apartment, you feel like you need to do something in return for his and Iwaizumi’s generosity. Yet, just when things start to look up, there’s always something that brings you back down.

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 5,474

content : profanity, smoking

tags :  alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

a/n : a bit of a longer chapter, I'm sorry if the ending seems a bit rushed. I tried to have two perspectives in this chapter and I’m not entirely sure if I like it, but here ya go! Also I hope you like it! (Pardon my errors, I only proofread once)

Post Thursday evenings PST, if not latest by Friday.

masterlist

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“I’m thinking… Curry!” you exclaim while you begin to collect the required ingredients at the smaller grocer.

Dinner wasn’t going to be anything too elaborate or fancy, just something simple. It’s the least you could do for Oikawa and Iwaizumi, letting you stay at the apartment until the disaster at your place ends. Though you weren’t much of a chef, you were really good at making a delicious pot of chicken curry. Truthfully, you’ve never cooked for anyone but yourself before, even Ushijima didn’t have the chance to taste your cooking, so you were quite nervous about the outcome. 

Nonetheless, this was your opportunity to do something for all that they’ve done.

“I can’t even remember the last time I had homemade curry,” Iwaizumi says while the corners of his mouth slightly curl up. You think he could probably light a room up with that smile, even if it’s so stupid for you to admit it, but you were really happy Iwaizumi offered to accompany you.

“Well you’re in for a treat!” you giggle. But you're finding yourself distracted watching every move Iwaizumi makes in search of some sort of confirmation that perhaps he is attracted to you too. You know it’s your own fault for clinging onto the tiny chance of hope that it’s more than him being a courteous gentleman. 

You’re practically floored when you accidentally brush each other's hands reaching for the same item at the same time. You blush from embarrassment up as you shoot him a sheepish smile and quickly pull your hand away.

Oh god, what is going on with you? Can’t you just be normal for once? You think, attempting to talk yourself down from the severe sweat your body has broken out in.

There were only a couple more things on your list you needed and advised the rest would be found down the aisles. Rounding the corner you begin to walk down the row of groceries on the hunt for the curry roux to complete your dish. At first, you’re too busy ignoring your hyper-awareness to Iwaizumi's presence to notice, but once you do, your heart sinks to your stomach as a familiar figure stands the opposite end of the aisle.

Quickly, you back out of the aisle pushing Iwaizumi with you. He doesn’t necessarily respond, but the unexpected reaction on your part definitely surprises him as he glances down at you with wide eyes.

“My ex is here,” you breathe. 

You can feel yourself shutting down again. You at least hoped that living in a different neighborhood, you’d avoid running into Ushijima, but it seems like no matter where you go you always seem to find him. It’s almost like the universe forbids you to get over him.

Iwaizumi tries to push past you, but you shove him back.

“No, no! He’ll see you,” you warn, hands pressed against his chest. Your mind takes a step back realizing what actions you’ve committed while the tips of your fingers and palms of your hands feel his toned chest beneath them. You feel your face warm up and it doesn’t help that you feel like you're burning under Iwaizumi’s dark, intense gaze. 

“Let me look,” he argues. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t.”

Putting your hands down, you watch him go. Your shoulders lock up as you ball your hands into fists. 

Fuck, fuck, FUCK! Your brain screams.

You turn on your heels preparing yourself to bolt if Iwaizumi has been spotted. Instead, he turns back and looks at you in shock. 

“I didn’t know that was your type,” he teases.

You furrow your brows at his response. “And what did you think my type would be?”

“I don’t know…” he clears his throat. “Oikawa?”

“What?” you shout. A look of annoyance flashed across your face, you try to sound polite, but the words come off as irritated with a hint of attitude. 

He laughs in response. “Let’s go,” he says while walking past the aisle. 

You catch your breath and hesitate, not wanting to be seen by Ushijima, but at the same time, you want to see if that girl is with him. Slowly you poke your head out to get a better look. He appears to be alone on the phone with someone, you can't hear the conversation but you notice by the way he's standing it isn't a good one. You know his mannerisms better than you'd like to admit and one thing he would do when he was having a difficult conversation is pinch the bridge of his nose. It wouldn't happen often, but when it did he would always tell you nothing was wrong when it clearly was. 

It's strange looking in from the outside, unable to comfort or distract Ushijima from his worries. 

“Pst,” you look over to Iwaizumi, snickering to himself. “Done spying yet?”

His comment startles you as you swallow hard convincing yourself to walk past the aisle to join Iwaizumi. This sad feeling hangs in your chest, a bit sharper than when you were blindsided with a break-up and a bit deeper than when you saw him with the girl. It almost like everything you’ve known was just pulled from under you, as if the last couple of years never existed, it was all a dream and now you're strangers. 

You take a deep breath as you follow Iwaizumi to continue gathering the rest of the ingredients. In your mind, you’d imagined that anger would have encapsulated you in this orb of revenge but instead, you have this longing for wanting to know if any of what you had with him was real.

As you leave, you check behind you wondering if you’ll see him again. Hoping perhaps he will see you too. But you don’t. 

“Something wrong?” Iwaizumi asks.

Your face pales as you think up a broad way to express how life just keeps getting worse and worse. 

“No, life is just weird now.”

“Cause you’re new roommates are two immature boys?” Iwaizumi jokes.

“That’s the least of my worries,” you answer, letting out a dry chuckle. 

Because I get to see you.

The grocery bags bounce against your leg as you look up at the clear sky feeling the sun’s rays kiss your face with warmth. Was it possible for you to like someone this fast? It’s easy enough to get over a break-up when someone else is in the picture, but what if that someone was a person you crossed paths with when you were younger? Was it meant to be? Or are you just imagining things?

The tension feels overwhelming as a fire lights in your stomach. 

“You know, I never thought I’d ever see you again.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says peering at you. “It really surprised me too… In a good way. But it seems you can’t keep yourself out of trouble.”

You feel a big surprise overcome as you shift your gaze to him. He’s referring to the sparkly gel pen the bully took from you. You’re certain. 

“What can I say? Trouble always finds me, I don’t go looking for it.”

You both laugh, filling your body with relief as the tension in your shoulders relaxes. This feeling of warmth blossoms throughout your body as the sound of his laugh echoes in your ears giving you the perfect amount of serotonin you need to alleviate your earlier worries.

How the hell did you get lucky enough to hear it? 

Your eyes glimmer and you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach. The giddy sensation gives you the confidence to slip out the next sentence you didn’t fully process--

“It’s kind of funny because I used to have a crush on you.”

You start to sweat realizing the words that just came out of your mouth and you’re silent. This isn’t exactly how eight-year-old you wanted to confess, honestly, you were going to take your crush on Iwaizumi to your grave. And now here you are. Oversharing. Something you don’t pride yourself on doing. In fact, now, you’re just worried about what he will say.

“I know,”  he replies, avoiding eye contact rubbing the back of his neck.

“What?” you start, stumbling over your feet.

You feel like you didn’t hear that right. Yes, you would see him every day because you were in the same class. But you barely spoke to each other, keeping to yourself most of the time. You were discreet, to say the least.

“How?” is the only thing you can think up to say.

“I mean, you weren’t really good at hiding it, with you staring at me all the time,” he says. “But also Hina told me.”

Hina, an old ‘friend’ of yours from elementary school. You recall her pestering you about who was your crush and stupidly told her who. And what does she do in return? That’s a low blow for an eight-year-old.

Brushing it off with a dry laugh, you add, “Well that’s embarrassing.”

“I wouldn’t say so,” he shrugs, looking at you in his peripheral vision. “We were just kids.”

You open your mouth to speak but the words die in your throat.

“It’s not like you still have those feelings,” he continues.

Oh.

“God no,” you exclaim, sounding a bit insincere. But you’re trying to act unaffected by the strength of his words that made you feel like you just got hit by a car.

“Do you?”

“W-what?” you stutter flustered. “I-I don’t know what you’re asking--”

“I was joking. It was a joke,” Iwaizumi interjects realizing maybe he’s pushed it a little too far then playfully nudges you with his shoulder.

Your whole body tingles from the short contact. In a way, it feels like he just unknowingly friend-zoned you in a matter of seconds. But it was truly your fault for thinking that some sort of fate brought you both together. You feel like you’ve been pulled out of the strange lull of not knowing how the other person is feeling. Now you just feel like an idiot.

“Right! Just a joke!” Changing your entire expression to a more vibrant smile.

Part of you wishes you didn’t get your answer though. 

------

Dinner doesn’t take as long as you suspected, especially with Iwaizumi’s help, speeding up the process without you stressing over getting it done at a reasonable hour. It isn’t overly delicious as you taste the final concoction, but you still find it good enough to serve your friends.

“Thanks for the help,” you smile.

“No problem,” he says.

“What time is Oikawa coming home?” you question while turning down the heat and covering the curry with a lid to keep warm.

“He texted me back saying--”

“I’m home,” a voice calls from the entrance. Oikawa walks into the kitchen nose carried by the rich smell of spices. The corner of his lips curls up into a coy smile as he eyes you up and down while you stand in front of the stove with an apron on. “Didn’t know I could consider you wife material.”

“Remind me to not do something nice for you again,” you retort, irked by the shit-eating grin.

He blinks when he peeks over your shoulder realizing the delicious smell is coming from a pot on the stove. “You made dinner?”

“Yes, as thanks for letting me stay here, but I can just throw it out if you’re going to be an asshole,” you argue while staring at him intensely. It strikes you that you’ve forgotten how ungrateful he can be and perhaps making dinner was just a bad idea to show gratitude. 

“No, no, I was just kidding,” he begs. “Looks good.”

“Go sit,” you scold. 

He’s taken aback by the sternness in your voice and slowly back off to the dining table in the other room. 

Iwaizumi passes a plate of rice to you, noticing the aura of rage exuding by the way you slop the chicken curry onto the plate.

“You ok?” he asks so matter-of-factly that you could punch him as well.

“I’m fine,” you reply quickly while you finish plating that last portion. 

Walking into the other room, you set a plate down in front of Oikawa who marvels at the mouth-watering meal. 

“Thanks for the meal,” Oikawa says, delving into the curry. His eyes light up at the taste as he happily chews the tender chicken. “It’s good!”

“Thanks,” you mumble. But your anger hasn’t dissipated as he can immediately sense it whilst you refuse to look his way. “Iwaizumi helped too.”

“I can’t take credit for all your hard work,” he adds.

You look up at Iwaizumi giving him a soft smile then turn back to the food that you’ve barely touched as you continue to play with it on your plate. You’ve lost your appetite.

“I think I’m going to go to bed,” you utter getting up from your seat.

“What? Aren’t you hungry?” Oikawa asks. 

“I’m just tired,” you reply, bringing your plate into the kitchen. 

No one else says anything else as they watch you go, they just pause unable to process your sudden exit. The next thing they hear is the door shut to Oikawa’s room. They exchange glances before continuing to indulge in their meal. 

Collapsing on the bed you exhale deeply. It’s too bad you couldn’t sit down and enjoy the meal but everything seemed to hit you at once. You could only take so much, from seeing Ushijima yet again to the disappointing rejection from Iwaizumi to Oikawa’s snarky comments. You don’t know why his comment jabbed you so deeply, normally, stuff like that doesn’t bother you, but you suspect all the stress and surprises you’ve endured in the past three days, you were definitely on edge.

You knew you were lashing out, but you couldn’t ignore the pain you felt inside. Maybe sleeping it off could help. Just maybe.

------

The night felt endless. Shifting in the sheets you bury your face in the pillow; it’s not the same familiar scent as it is back at your apartment, instead, it’s a mix of fabric softener with a ting of cologne that most certainly smells like Oikawa. 

Didn’t know I could consider you wife material. 

The same words repeat in your head causing you to toss and turn, unable to fall asleep with all the anxiety pent up inside. His words make sense though. If Oikawa couldn’t even see you that way, how could Iwaizumi? 

You know you’re not going to get any more sleep with your thoughts racing, so you climb out of bed and throw on a jacket.

Slowly turning the knob, you pry the door open and creep into the hall. The apartment is dark and quiet except for the subdued sound of Oikawa's snoring trailing from the living room. You study him in his deep slumber while a trickle of the light slips in through a crack of the closed curtains. You still can’t believe he gave up his bed to let you sleep in it. Lately, he’s been awfully nicer than usual to you. 

As you reach the foyer, you crouch over to slip on your shoes to lace them up. Suddenly the air in the room shifts as a hand emerges from the darkness to cover your mouth. Your fight or flight instincts kick in as you try to tear the culprit's arm away from you. But when you do, your eyes are met with Iwaizumi holding his index finger to his lips. You send him a wide-eyed glare in disapproval of his actions, you thought you were going to have a heart attack.

“Go,” he whispers, gesturing to leave.

Putting on your other shoe and quickly tying it, you get up to unlock the door.

Click!

The sound wasn’t that loud, but in the silence of the apartment, it feels like the noise shot and reverberated off the walls. You close your eyes and strain your hearing to listen for Oikawa's snoring. And it stops. But for a moment, before continuing.

You sigh as you shoot Iwaizumi with a look of relief and walk out of the apartment.

A shiver goes down your spine as you breathe in the fresh dewy morning air while the birds chirping in the background with the sun just about to rise. You lean on the railing taking in the peaceful surroundings having a newfound appreciation of how beautiful everything is.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Iwaizumi asks, shutting the door behind him.

“Not really,” you groan. “You?”

“I have a weird sleep schedule,” he continues, his voice a little groggy probably from just waking up. He takes out a pack of cigarettes and offers you the pack as a way of asking if you’d like one. “I like getting up early when I can.”

“Yeah I’m a bit more of a morning person myself,” you reply, accepting a smoke. As of lately you’re a morning and night person but didn’t think it was not worth mentioning.

He lights the cigarette and passes you the lighter. You watch him press his lips to the smoke, you wonder if they’re as soft as they appear providing that he seems so gentle when inhaling the toxins. Then he exhales the smoke, you watch it curl into the air and the sweet smell hits your nose urging you to light your own. In your fantasies, you imagine sharing a smoke as a form of intimacy, passing it off to each other, but obviously, this is real life and not some romance novel so you push the thought away.

“So, what do your parents do?”

The question feels like a forced form of conversation that you ask someone when you don’t know what to talk about. You know after yesterday’s adventure to your parent's home, there must have been a lot going through his mind as to how they have such a big house with so many rooms, but the inquiry is always deeply triggering. It’s not that you don’t want to answer, you just don’t like to talk about your parents much. You wouldn’t think that you have the healthiest relationship with them and you definitely didn’t believe now is the best time to give a full autobiography.

“... They work in medicine,” you try to sound enthusiastic but the words leave your mouth sounding bitter and resentful.

“Ah, both doctors?”

“Mm… Kind of,” you mutter, taking a hit from the cigarette realizing you’re going to need another one soon with the way this conversation is going.

“You don’t like talking about it?” he exclaims, noticing that you are extremely reticent to the topic.

“Not really…” 

You didn’t feel like outlining how they forced you to go to university when you weren’t completely sure what to study. And you didn’t want to tell him that they were absolutely livid when you refused to go to school. And the only compromise you could make with them is that you would go to university if you were allowed to move out to live by yourself. 

“They’re great in a sense they take care of me, but not great in a way that I am able to choose what I want to do…” you mumble, already dreading the fact you’re starting to overshare. Sure he asked, but you can’t help but feel guilty for even talking about the subject. 

“Well, what do you want to do?”

You pause. Despite his firm demeanor, it wasn’t something you expected to hear from Iwaizumi. At all. What did you want to do?

Go somewhere far away, where no one can find me, leave everything behind, become the person I want to be without any judgment… Is what you wanted to say, but instead, you murmur, “I don’t know… I’m hoping someday I figure it out.”

“No harm in that,” he responds.

“You’re lucky you know what you want to do,” you utter, peering at him. “I wish I did.”

Iwaizumi exhales and looks up at the sky that’s changing to a golden color with the sun about to rise.

“It's okay to not know what you want right now,” he begins. “It’s hard to commit to something that you’re going to do for the rest of your life.”

“How did you know?”

“One day I just knew,” he shrugs.

“I don’t think I can,” you object, fully knowing you’re being difficult. 

Instinctively, you don’t think something like that can appear before you so easily. Here you are, almost four years later, completing a degree you don’t necessarily care about, but feel like you have to do in order to get your parents off your back. You understand it’s your life and you have the full ability to make your own decisions but all you can feel is fear and anxiety wash over you at the thought of thinking where you could be in five years. 

“What about your ex?” 

You blink unsure if you heard Iwaizumi right.

“What?” you answer almost coldly.

“Do you want to get back together with him?”

“No,” you snap hostilely, raising your voice. 

“There, you made one decision,” he points out.

“Not when he’s found someone else,” you whisper.

You swallow hard as he glances up at you, his gaze finally meeting yours for the first time this morning. The statement takes you both by surprise as your words linger in the air between the two of you. Iwaizumi’s eyes are wide like he’s heard this fact for the first time.

“Didn’t Oikawa tell you?” 

Iwaizumi shakes his head. "What happened?"

You feel yourself emotionally facepalm yourself as you draw the conclusion that Oikawa didn't actually tell Iwaizumi everything. Now you'd wish you had clarification of what he was told.

“I saw him the other day, when I was out with Oikawa, with someone new,” you confess, taking a deep inhale you feel your eyes start to turn glassy and your heart dip. It’s a mix of feeling like the world is about to implode and embarrassment as you come to realize the amount of word vomit that leaves your mouth in Iwaizumi’s presence. 

“She knows what she wants, that’s probably why he left me. Probably smarter too and definitely much prettier,” you add, not knowing why you’re continuing to go on about it.

Yes, you’re tired and upset that all this dumb bullshit keeps happening to you, all you wanted to do was talk about it. Even if Oikawa offered, there’s this unexplainable uneasiness of being vulnerable around him. 

The next few minutes are painful as you stand in irrefutable silence that seems to speak louder than any words of comfort. You wonder if you’ve overstepped your boundaries by telling him more than he probably cares to know.

“I hear that you’re smart,” Iwaizumi finally says. “Oikawa says you’re always studying hard and getting high marks in your classes…” 

Frankly, he didn’t have to try to console you. He has no reason to. And he can’t lie, he feels a bit guilty for bringing it up.

“And I doubt she’s prettier,” he utters.

Your chest tightens as you look at Iwaizumi with bright eyes. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before breathing out looking in the opposite direction. You know you’re a bit insane for getting your hopes up slightly, but you can’t help it with a comment like that.  

Why do you feel so nervous? 

“I’m going to go inside. See if I can get some more rest before class,” you assure, putting out the cigarette. You know you're running away from the conversation but Iwaizumi's comment was more complex than you wanted it to be.

------

It’s been almost a week at Oikawa’s apartment.

You thought it was going to be endlessly chaotic with lots of annoying bantering on Oikawa’s part, but it’s been quite pleasant. However, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t manage to get a good night’s rest. You blame the unfamiliar atmosphere, with the unfamiliar sounds coming from outside and the unfamiliar smell that most definitely is a ting of Oikawa’s clone. Each night you find yourself shifting around, unable to get comfortable, trying to plead yourself to sleep so you can survive another day. But even when you do fall asleep, you find yourself waking up every hour, checking the time on your phone, checking for missed calls or messages. 

Yes, you did in fact still have that sliver of hope Ushijima would reach out.

Yet, whenever the phone illuminates your face waking you up, even more, your notifications are empty. And honestly, your heart was too, yet also so heavy.

The past couple of mornings you’ve had classes later that day, you manage to sleep on and off until you had to drag yourself to campus in time.

But oh my god. Class is nothing short of boring making time feel like it’s moving alarmingly slow. You think perhaps you can get away with taking a nap, seeing as you are seated at the back of the class. Except as you’re about to, the professor designates a group assignment.

Fun. 

Gathering your stuff, you move to a desk to sit with your group members the professor assigned. As you scan the other student's faces before opening your textbook up, a small commotion at the front of the classroom distracts you. A student files in apologizing to the professor for her tardiness. At first, you don’t recognize her familiar appearance until she approaches your group to sit down across from you. But once you do, you realize you are met with the girl you never thought you’d see like this. 

The transfer student.

Infuriatingly enough, she’s pretty wearing a nicely put-together outfit with a face full of makeup perfectly applied. You notice the soft shine from her sparkly gloss as she smiles flashing her pearly whites. The atmosphere seems to shift as her smile radiates before speaking up. No wonder Ushijima has a thing for her. She's gorgeous.

“I’m Sara,” she announces. “I look forward to working with you all!”

The student beside you nudges your arm, gesturing you to introduce yourself.

“Oh, I’m Y/N,” you say softly, trying to revert your eye contact with the new member whose eyes sparkle while gazing at you. 

Then it strikes you. Does she even know who you are?

-------

Back at the apartment, Oikawa enters his room to grab his homework and textbooks. The room is a mess with clothes thrown on the floor and your belonging placed unorderly in random spots. He shoots the room with a sour look, a bit displeased seeing as he always thought you were much tidier than this. Approaching his desk, he notices your pile of clothing holding his textbooks hostage, drooped all over his desk. He starts to sweat as he slowly pries his books from under hoping the heap of clothes won’t fall. And he’s lucky for a moment until a couple of articles crash to the floor.

Oikawa sighs as he begins to pick them up to place them back on the desk. But as he grabs your jacket, he hears a small thud as cartilage hits the floor. He looks down to see what’s been dropped and spies a pack of smokes. 

He hesitantly picks them up analyzing the half-used pack unsure why it was in his pocket.

“Hey are you-- What are you doing?” Iwaizumi scolds pausing in the doorway staring at Oikawa in surprise. He looks down to where Oikawa’s eye line meets.

Oikawa turns to Iwaizumi, “She smokes?”

“Uh, no,” Iwaizumi spouts out quickly, walking up to Oikawa taking the pack away from him. “She’s holding that for me.”

“Don’t bullshit, I know you don’t smoke this brand,” he sneers, face flickering with disgust. “Why are you covering for her?”

Iwaizumi is quiet as the shame he had hoped to ignore fills him with guilt.

“Fuck,” Oikawa snaps storming out of the room.

------

“Y/N,” a voice calls out to you from behind. Class finally ended and you had rushed out in order to get back to the apartment at a decent hour. Meeting Sara really put you in a bad mood and the last thing you wanted to do was linger after class for some forced conversation. Yet when you turn around to see whose voice it was, Sara stands before you smiling.

“What do you think of going out for dinner tonight? I thought it would be a good idea for our group to get to know each other more since we will be working together for the rest of the semester…”

She’s polite and soft-spoken, a seemingly large contrast from your loud and fiery personality.

“Um, I’m not sure…”  you say after a long pause. 

“Please! It will be fun. You can even bring some friends.” she pleads, perhaps more appealing than you wanted to hear.

There’s a strange excitement to her voice that makes you feel like you need to say yes as you think about it for a moment. Her invitation must mean she doesn’t know that you are her new boyfriend’s recent ex-girlfriend of 3 days. With that in mind, your curiosity grows about what kind of person Sara is.

“What time?” you reply.

------

“I’m back,” you call into the apartment. Surprisingly, you are a bit enthusiastic to tell Oikawa and Iwaizumi about the invitation. It was your chance to spy and you knew Oikawa would definitely be down to join.

Oikawa rushes out with a stern look on his face just moments after you announce your arrival. He was ready to confront you about what he found today, but before he has a chance to you speak up.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” you say while unlacing your shoes.“I met the transfer student today, her name is Sara. I didn’t realize she’s in my class.”

Oikawa remains silent, cluing into the way you radiate as you speak; it’s been a while since he’s seen you this way. Your voice seems to chirp at a higher note and the way you’re carrying yourself seemed lighter as well.

“She asked me to go out for dinner, to get to know me better,” you threw up a couple of air quotes to mock her. “You, me and Iwaizumi, we’re going. I have to see what she’s all about.”

You look at Oikawa who still hasn’t spoken and shoot him a concerned look, “What? Did I do something?”

“Dinner? With your ex's new girlfriend?” he mutters, sounding not even remotely pleased with your explanation.

“Apparently she doesn’t know I’m his ex,” you answer coy. “Or I doubt she would have invited me.”

You may not have all the answers you want, but you sure as hell know you can find out something.

“I mean, you don’t have to come, I’m sure Iwaizumi will be fine just going with me,” you smirk.

“Uh, no I’ll come,” Oikawa responds quickly, realizing he’s going to have to keep an eye on you. Right now, you don’t know that he knows you’re smoking and maybe instead of confronting you there was another way he could stop you from continuing the bad habit. He most definitely could have brought it up now, but seeing you in a happier mood, for once, he didn’t want to ruin it.

Suddenly, the door opens behind you and Iwaizumi appears glistening in sweat from his afternoon jog. He looks like he’s glowing as he wipes the sweat from his brow and gazes at you in the entrance. “What’s going on?” 

“Y/N-chan’s exes new girl asked Y/N to go out for dinner, but we assume she doesn’t know about Y/N and Ushijima… You in?” Oikawa explains.

Iwaizumi isn’t sure he understood the entire explanation but doesn’t seem to care as he notices the stars in your eyes waiting for his response. He can tell he wants you to go.

“How much time do I have to get ready?”

------

The restaurant is lively, full of patrons talking over each other while they argue over who’s going to buy the next pitcher of beer. You feel your nerves start to explode as you check the crowded room in search of Sara and your group members. Fortunately, a hostess greets you and you ask her in regards to where a big group of people would be sitting. As you follow behind her deeper into the restaurant, the more everything starts to feel real. You are on the cusp of turning around and getting out of there. 

Did you really want to see what she was like? Were you that desperate for answers? 

But you’re too late to turn back as Sara’s face lights up when she sees you. 

“You made it!” she smiles.

But you can’t meet her with the same bright smile because right beside her is Ushijima. 

[fuwahiko]

Ok more fluff coming your way because i throw it all on Hajime mans needs a break. Imagine a Non-Despair au where Izuru is a real person and Hajime's twin, they go to Hope's Peak. Izuru in the Main Course and Hajime in the Reserve Course.

Class 77 plan a get-together outside of school because they wanted to...and Chisa said to get together outside of school. Izuru is...not feeling social so he decides to bring Hajime along. He didn't tell anyone he was bringing his brother, but they'll learn when he shows up.

So fast forward to The Hang Out, and all of class 77 are waiting for Izuru. They're not surprised because Izuru is Izuru and he does not like socializing. They're all chatting and laughing at TeruTeru getting his ass chewed out by Mahiru when Izuru comes in and...he's hanging off of someone with short choppy hair and green eyes? Whomst? Izuru doesn't have friends outside of them who beith this man?

"Izuru what the hell, you forgot to tell them about me?!" "...oh, it seems so. Sorry Haji."

So Izuru introduces his brother because he FORGOT to tell his class about Hajime. Everyone's nice to him, even Nagito because he's got a hope boner for Izuru Kamukura aka Ultimate Hope man.

Fuyuhiko goes up and says "hi" because if Peko can try to socialize, so can he. Hajime smiles and says hi back, and that's that. Fuyuhiko goes back to his antisocial wall, and Hajine goes back to being Izuru's emotional support pillar. Literally.

But they're both flushed. Fuyuhiko's eyebrows are furrowed and Hajime's biting his lips. They steal glances at each other when the other isn't looking. Fuyuhiko and Hajime are both thinking, "Oh no cute boy."

And LET THE MUTUAL PINING, TSUNDERE ACTIONS, AND CLASS 77 SHENANIGANS COMMENCE. With wingwoman Peko, insgigator Natsumi on both sides, and Izuru being the overprotective brother that he is.

yessss pining boys!! without having like... the reasons they had in the game to talk to each other, how does one approach a cute boy (tm)? when both you and the cute boy (tm) are so awkward and have such difficulty getting chatting, what do you do?

imagining Peko as a wingwoman is really cute and kinda amusing too because she’s y’know, sort of awkward too and sometimes struggles to keep conversations going and stuff so I imagine there’d probably be some moments where Peko is trying her best to help Fuyuhiko by starting a conversation with Hajime so she can bring Fuyuhiko into it as well but maybe it’s a sort of unusual topic or she doesn’t really give Hajime much to work with so it kinda flops at first and Fuyuhiko’s concerned that it’s not gonna go anywhere, but then Peko ends up saying something that Hajime finds funny (even though there’s a 95% chance that Peko wasn’t intending to be funny) and that allows for the conversation to open up more and become a lot easier.

Hajime and Fuyuhiko end up keeping the conversation going for a few minutes, but they’re both still pretty flustered and they keep getting overwhelmed and distracted (cute boy!! omg!!) so they end up struggling and the conversation dies out again. just then Izuru spots them and comes over again to butt in and latch onto Hajime and Fuyuhiko uses it as an opportunity to head off and escape the awkwardness. Hajime gets irritated with Izuru for scaring Fuyuhiko off but is also honestly a little relieved because he wouldn’t have wanted to make things even more awkward by just letting the silence between them carry on for who knows how long.

the get together ends without them getting the chance to talk any more than that, but even so they both find that they just can’t stop thinking about each other in the days that follow. it’s been several days already but Fuyuhiko still gets distracted in class thinking about how cute Hajime’s big bright smile was and the sound of his laugh, how soft his hair looked, how big his arms were compared to his own. Hajime finds himself sitting on his bed and hugging his pillow to his chest as he thinks about Fuyuhiko’s pretty eyes, his cute freckles, and how surprisingly friendly and sweet he’d been in contrast to his intimidating aura (which Hajime also found very attractive, of course). there’s a lot of covering cheeks with hands, lowering heads to hide soft expressions and a hell of a lot of times where somebody is trying to get Hajime’s or Fuyuhiko’s attention but they might as well be talking to a brick wall because they’re both so distracted by their thoughts that they’re completely lost to the world.

Natsumi notices all of this from both of them and finds it hilarious (and pretty adorable, she has to admit) and even though she does think Hajime is sort of lame she knows her brother is genuinely really into him and... well, he’s not that bad, right? yeah, okay, he’s actually pretty alright... so why not give them both a little shove in the right direction?

problem is, they’re both completely useless.

she makes several attempts at trying to encourage them to do something about all these god damn butterflies and fluffy pink hearts that are practically radiating from them both, but nothing works. she gives up. a few more days pass and... nothing changes. they’re both so god damn annoying. Hajime lets out his 200th dreamy sigh in class (which is a lot less discreet than Hajime thinks it is) and Natsumi almost loses it. she has to do something about this.

the next day she asks Hajime to meet her in a quiet spot just outside of school when classes are over, she tells him she wants to talk about something. Hajime doesn’t really get what the deal is but he figures he’ll just go along with it rather than questioning her and making a fuss.

after school he goes to wait in the spot (Natsumi says she needs to do something else quickly first and tells Hajime to go ahead) but when he gets there... he sees Fuyuhiko is there waiting for him?!

Hajime stops dead in his tracks, freezing up and struggling to even breathe properly, and when Fuyuhiko looks up and realises Hajime is there he tenses up and balls his hands into fists at his sides. they stare at each other for a moment, their cheeks burning up as they process the situation, and then as soon as Fuyuhiko is able to kick his brain into gear again he realises exactly what is going on. he scrunches his face up, still bright red, though Hajime doesn’t notice yet. “god damn it, Natsumi!” his voice is loud, making Hajime jump a little, but it’s also sort of shaky.

“oh uh- I was supposed to meet her here- I-”

Fuyuhiko sighs. “yeah, me too. she did this on purpose. she was trying to get both of us here because she knows that-” he cut himself off, suddenly realising what he was about to say. out loud. to Hajime.

“huh? knows that what?” Hajime couldn’t figure out what Natsumi could possibly want from this that Fuyuhiko would know of. the only reason he could imagine was because she knew about his crush on Fuyuhiko and probably wanted to play some kind of prank, but that couldn’t be it because how would Fuyuhiko know why she’d called him there?

it was then that Hajime noticed that Fuyuhiko was turning away and avoiding eye contact. wait... is he blushing? what would cause him to blush in a situation like this? hang on a second...

slowly Hajime started to piece the situation together... but he must be imagining things, right? there has to be some other explanation. but he couldn’t help but cling onto that little thought, that maybe Fuyuhiko was also interested, even if it was silly to ever think that that could be the case. he wanted to test his theory out without giving himself away, and in the moment the best he could manage was some awkward joke. of course.

“hey... isn’t this kinda like when two characters in a romance anime meet up outside of school to confess or something?”

Fuyuhiko has a small coughing fit. he recovers after a moment and adjusts his tie, finally looking back at Hajime again. “huh?!”

Hajime panics and nervously searches for somewhere else to look so he doesn’t have to meet Fuyuhiko’s intense eyes. “n-nothing! I was just joking around! I uh- I thought it’d uh-” he feels like his cheeks are about to catch fire. he wants to run away but his legs won’t move an inch.

Fuyuhiko lets out a breathy laugh. “you’re so weird.”

Hajime looks up again and is surprised to see Fuyuhiko’s expression is much softer than expected, and though he keeps glancing up at Hajime he’s also struggling and looking around awkwardly as well. suddenly Hajime catches a look in Fuyuhiko’s eyes and they find themselves staring at each other for a moment. Hajime sees that he really wasn’t imagining it; Fuyuhiko’s face is very red right now. he realises that Fuyuhiko has noticed that his face is also red. he must have done. there’s no way he could possibly miss it. oh god.

there’s a long pause.

Fuyuhiko swallows and takes a moment to clear his throat.

“well anyway, since we’re here, do you want to... hang out sometime?”

Hajime’s eyes widen in surprise. he isn’t even able to process the question before Fuyuhiko continues speaking.

“I just mean because you’re my sister’s classmate n’ all I figure we should try to get along and-”

“y-yeah, sure. uh, I’d like that actually.” Hajime doesn’t realise he’s cut Fuyuhiko off until he’s already spoken.

there’s another pause, and then maybe a couple more minutes of them arranging a time and place to meet up in a few days while trying not to lose it and just turn to a big pile of mush out of embarrassment, and then they awkwardly part ways.

as Hajime turns to leave he thinks he hears something rustling in a bush nearby but figures it must be his imagination so he just ignores it and continues on his way.

Natsumi heads back home, a couple of small leaves stuck in her hair, giggling to herself. today would go down as one of the greatest successes of the ultimate little sister.