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aressss1 · 3 years

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(Technoblade x Reader)

Read me on AO3!

You are on a journey. But what if your journey goes differently from what you planned? You wanted loot but you found yourself a mate for life... Oops.

~~~~~~

Sweat dripped down your face, as you trudged through the nether. How any living being could live here was beyond you. Your boots tore through the netherack, as you traveled. The heat was becoming unbearable, and the water in your canteen dried up as soon as you entered this place. As much as you hated the nether… It was a necessity to travel through, to get to the ever-elusive woodland mansion.

You had only ever heard of the mansion, through random whispers, so you decided to buy a map from one of the villagers. Though… Traveling through the nether was difficult for you, and you were starting to run out of obsidian. Making portals to the overworld, only to find that you weren’t even close to your destination.

Sighing, you place down your nether portal, lighting it. You took a peek at the hellish scenery behind you, and you step through, vowing that the first water source you saw would be dry after you got a hold on it. When you opened your eyes, you felt relief at the cool breeze on your skin. You stepped out of the portal, your eyes landing on a lake just a few feet ahead of you. Needless to say, you drank as much water as you could without getting sick, before you went on your merry way through the birch forest you found yourself in. You walked hours, not really wanting to go back into the nether but at this point… The map in your hand still didn’t make sense to you. You followed that magic icon on your map, but it never seemed to budge.

Sighing, you take out your obsidian once more, recreating the portal and lighting it. When you stepped into the portal you walked into the blue forest on the other side. You cursed at your surroundings, while the forests were very pretty… They just slowed you down with how dense some of them were. Enemies could use it to their advantage too. You tightened your bag around your shoulder and walked forward, boots digging into the warped nylium.

You were cautious, hand twitching for your bow and arrow, at any and all sounds around you. Cutting the warped wart in your path you found yourself in a small clearing. It made you hesitate, but you didn’t see anything to be worried about, so your shrugged and kept moving. Making your way to the other side of the clearing you pulled your sword out to cut at the wart in your path. Well… You didn’t get far. The sound of a crossbow string being pulled back, hit your ears and you whirled around.

Another… Human…? No… Not a human. But something in between that of a piglin and a human. Tangled long pink hair spilled down his shoulders, a golden crown adorned the top of his head. A tattered red piece of fabric pooled to the ground. He wore the garb of a piglin brute, and you could see the golden axe hang at his back. His golden eyes pierced through you, daring you to make any type of movement. You didn’t hesitate, you pulled your bow forth notching your arrow, and pulling back the string.

It was only a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. The two of you stared each other down, through your weapons. Hearts pounding, you felt your shoulders rise and fall, your hand shook where he was calm. He finally spoke, and you didn’t understand him.

Unbeknownst to you, the thing that caught his eye… Was the golden ring on your index finger, glinting at him. ‘Friend?’ He thought lowering his crossbow, you didn’t do the same. He could see you were scared, and he approached you slowly. Even if you yelled things at him that he couldn’t understand. He didn’t care, a measly arrow wouldn’t hurt him, not after all the fights with the other brutes he’d had to become their ruler. Hell, he didn’t even think you could hit him with how bad you were shaking.

He reached out, pushing your bow down, as a way to show he was peaceful. You backed up into one of the trees, as your bow and arrow slipped from your hands. He knew you weren’t of his kind. But to submit so freely? He felt pity for you. You tried pushing away from him when he got too close, but he caught your hand with the ring on it. He fiddled with the tiny ring, almost enthralled with it. You felt his calloused hand cover yours and you could feel the heat rise up to your cheeks.

“D-do you want it?” You said it to get him away from you, to appease him. “You can have i-it.” You grabbed the ring off your finger and held it out for him. “Here…” He looked back and forth between you and the ring, before he spoke again… He sounded as if he said, ‘For me?’, which caused you to nod your head at him…

“Mate…” It was really unfortunate that you couldn’t understand netherspeak… Because as soon as he fit the tiny ring on his pinky finger… It was sealed. The two of you were bound together forever… at least in the piglin world, and piglin’s never left their other half. After he was done studying the ring on his pinky, he got down on one knee, grabbing your hand pressing his lips to the back of your hand. You let out a squeak turning a shade darker before you bowed your head saying your goodbyes to him.

What you didn’t think would happen was… that he would start following you… Wherever you went… You let out a sigh for the umpteenth time. He followed you like a puppy, but you couldn’t keep him. You had no idea what he said to you, he kept calling you something, it was a word you couldn’t pronounce yourself. To him you were his mate, and he would follow you anywhere.

You found yourself panting before too long, the heat was starting to get to you again. You had to sit for a minute, and he sat with you, watching you pant, and rub the sweat from your face. You tried to fan yourself as your eyes finally settled on him. He seemed concerned for you, speaking his own language. Calling you his wife once more.

“Why do you keep calling me that? What does it mean?” You said it more to yourself than to him, you sighed, “You can call me by my name…” You went through the motions with him teaching your name. He seemed to catch on quickly. He tried doing the same with you.

“Technoblade?” You knew you were butchering it, but that’s what his name sounded like in Netherspeak to you. You just couldn’t get his name right. You opted to just keep calling him Techno. He seemed to have an easier time understanding you, learning from you. You pulled out a book from your bag, teaching him how to read your language, it was an old mythology book you had looted from a mineshaft a while back. It was a good thing to have if you were bored. You watched in awe as he seemed to grasp everything you were teaching him. He turned to a random page in the book.

“”Persephone has eaten the fruit of the Underworld,” Hades said coolly, “she must return and rule it with me.”” You marveled at him, while he made some mistakes, that you helped him with, in reading, he really was a natural. When he didn’t know a word he asked you, to help, and he would relish in how close you got to him when you needed to lean over and read the word in the book.

“Here Techno, you can keep this.” You said it slowly, “You can remember me every time you read from it.” He held the book close to his heart.

“…” He watched you get up and dust yourself off. You waved your hand at him, and that caused him to get up himself, and follow you. You put your hand on his chest.

“You have to stay Techno…” You tried reassuring him, he grabbed your hand at his chest his grip tightening on you. “I have to keep going.”

“Stay.” His deep voice rumbled out, and his eyes pleaded with you. You weren’t sure you liked hearing him reply back in your own language… It made things harder now.

“I can’t…” You whispered pulling your hand from his. You couldn’t bear this anymore. You made another portal on the spot; your lack of obsidian be damned, and you lit the portal. Techno growled throwing himself in between you and the portal, his golden axe at the ready. Was he… Protecting you from the portal? A few awkward seconds passed, and nothing happened, and you walked around him putting a hand on the portal. “Techno… This is my way home.”

“Home?” You nodded explaining it to him. It took a few tries until he got it. “Home.” His hand landed on your shoulder. You shook your head, still not getting the fact that he had claimed you as his mate.

“Your home is here Techno. I am not your home.” You stepped into the portal, and you gave him a pitiful look as he reached toward you. Hoping he wouldn’t follow, you disappeared through the portal in front of him. He panicked looking everywhere for you. His mate had suddenly vanished, and he hesitantly touched the purple substance in the portal, his hand going through. He stepped forward as you had. It was a rush, emotions hitting him all at once he fell into the overworld, his arms hitting the ground. Nausea hit him all at once, and he looked around at the foreign world before him, the world spun around him.

“Oh gods… Techno.” He felt relief at your voice. You worried for him, usually when piglins left the nether, they zombified… You put your hand on his back, as you kneeled next to him. You didn’t want him to turn in to a zombie…

Techno was fighting to keep consciousness; bile rose to the back of his throat and his mind started filling with voices. They were so loud… Why were they so loud? They spoke to him in netherspeak. Were these the voices of piglins who had already met their fate? Did you hear these voices too? His body burned in the sunlight, not to an extreme extent but it felt hotter than all those years in the nether. He could pick your voice out through the voices filling up his mind. His head hurt and he finally collapsed on the ground. You really didn’t know what to do. He reached for you.

“Mate…” He weakly sputtered out reaching for your hand. You stood from him, as he passed out, disbelief lining your features. What did he say to you? You stepped away from him, turning from him. You didn’t make it five steps before you stopped to look back at him… You couldn’t just leave him there… You didn’t have the heart to.

So… You pulled him to a shady area, and you watched over him. Relief flooded over you as you felt his pulse. He was well past the time of becoming zombified, at least for a normal piglin, could hybrids zombify? You had no idea. You just sat with him for hours, until he woke up.

When his eyes cracked open you gave out a sigh of relief. He pulled you to him wrapping you in his arms as he warily looked around the two of you. It had gotten dark, so you set up camp for the night, building a fire for the both of you. You were in the middle of cooking baked potatoes for the two of you.

“Home?” He asked, his chin resting on your head. You hesitated… Remembering how he had called you home earlier. Now you knew what he meant.

“Not exactly.” You pushed yourself off of him, your eyes looking anywhere but him. “I’m far away from my home.” He seemed to process your words… He could understand you better, but only because a voice in the back of his mind translated your words to him…

He just sat and watched you for a while, as you poked at the potatoes on the fire. He was curious, the food smelled delicious to him. It was then when you held out a potato for him to take, did he get to taste the cooked vegetable, let’s just say… He loved it. The expression on his face made you chuckle, and you offered yours up to him, after you put more potatoes on the fire. He wasn’t done with his own potato.

“Take mine.” You offered to him. “I’ve got more coming.”

“Eat.” His voice got serious. “Mate, eats first.”

“Techno…” You sigh, “Why are you calling me your mate?” You looked in his golden eyes that softened every time they looked at you.

“Gold,” He held his pinky finger up in the air showing the ring you had given to him. “Rit-ual,” He looked as if he was listening to someone, and they were telling him what to say. You were stunned at his words… Because you gave him gold… You were now his mate… The thought made your head spin.

“Okay…” You didn’t know what to do at this point. Maybe you should have just left him? Maybe you wouldn’t be in this predicament. “If I hadn’t given you that ring, would you have killed me?” He looked away in thought.

“Yes.” The thought of it made your heart sink. “I will pr-otect you always.” You couldn’t help the flutter in your chest… He had already gone this far for you… Leaving the nether was a huge risk and he was lucky he was hybrid, or he would have been a zombie.

“What happens when a piglin loses their mate?” You asked. “Like if they die?” It took Techno a second to respond.

“We join them.” He said it so casually, you bit your lip. “Nothing will happen.” His words brought a smile to your face.

“Technoblade never dies eh?” You joked with him, and he nods.

“Technoblade never dies.” He loved your name for him, and he would cherish it forever.

Technoblade didn’t know what he was doing wrong. He wanted so badly to give you the affection you deserved, but you shut him down almost immediately. He gave you the things you wanted, pretty ‘flowers’ as you called them. He made sure you were taken care of. He studied your reactions, and while you were resistant to his affections… He knew that he had an affect on you. He could read it on your face, or even smell when he aroused you. But you were still resisting him. He hated it.

He continued trying to please you, and you were too wrapped up in the mansion to notice. It wasn’t like you ignored him, quite the opposite really… You just didn’t want to reciprocate feelings, at least not yet. But you loved teaching him what things were, teaching him how to speak properly. He listened to every word you taught him. You loved brushing through his pink tresses as well.

The voices were immensely helpful at times, even if they were annoying. Telling him what to say and reminding him what things were when he couldn’t remember. But… They started calling for blood. They were aggressive… And he took his aggressions out when he hunted for meat, which helped, but his bloodlust always came back. He feared they would turn on you next.

He followed you blindly, days turned into weeks and the end of your journey came. The two of you stood in front of the mansion. After all that time… You were now standing in front of the mansion. You were going to burn it to the ground after you were done. The two of you went through that mansion, killing enemies left and right. Well… Mostly Technoblade. You sat there on the top floor of the mansion as you watched him go ham.

He was the most graceful fighter you had ever seen. He had grown on you, and you found yourself thinking about him more and more. You wanted to be with him, and in that moment, everything clicked for you. Taking down that mansion went quickly. You had gotten a few totems and you realized that… You didn’t even want the loot anymore. You wanted Techno. When the two of you searched the place through and through you lit it all on fire. The two of you stayed to watch it burn.

“What do we do next?” Techno asked his golden eyes flicking to you.

“We go home.”

“Home?”

“Yup.” You turned toward him, a blush spreading on your cheeks. “You’re my home now Techno.” You hoped to get loot from this trip, but as it turns out, that wasn’t the important part of this whole journey. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, stepping on your tip toes to boost yourself up. You pressed your lips to his, eyes fluttering closed as you felt his arms wrap around your waist to pull you flush up against him.

This world was foreign to Techno, but kissing you felt like the most natural thing to him. You were his, and he was yours. No matter where you went, he would follow. He loved you, loved how you taught him things, loved how you brushed through his hair every morning. You set him free. Free from the fiery gates of hell as you put it.

He wanted to explore this world with you. Even as you pulled back from him, he savored in the fact that you never pulled away from him. Not even as the two of you found yourself wrapped in each other’s arms for the night. It felt right. This world was where he was supposed to be because you were here. He was home.

#mcyt x reader #technoblade x reader #c!techno x reader #technoblade/reader #home #fluff and light angst #accidental bonding

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hnychn · 4 years

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𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄

pairing: poly! bakusquad x gn! reader

summary: why settle for one lover when you could have five?

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 🐝: ugh i love the idea of all five of these assholes in one relationship !! it just makes my heart 😫. lmk what you thought of it, i appreciate any constructive criticism that'll help me improve 🤍 i'm also working on a shoto work next so!! PS. this ended up being a lot longer than i thought, so i'll be making it into diferent parts!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 || 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞

ur their baby

sorry

don't make the rules 🤷🏻‍♀️

so first and foremost, how you became a part of their relationship.

surprisingly, it was bakugo who brought up the idea to the others 😳

you're not in 1a, but you are in the support class. you make them gadgets 😌

and bakugo met you when the last student who was supposed to be responsible for his costume design and other shit refused to work with bakugo anymore

that was the sixth guy to quit

so you offered to pick up his work 😌

otherwise the storyline wouldn't continue

so bakugo goes to you after school and is like, "listen here you fucking extra-"

and that's as far as he got before you interrupted him and was like:

"no yOU listen you hot-headed cyndaquil! the only reason you should be talking to me is if you want to submit a request for your costume. other than that, don't look at me. don't speak to me. don't even breathe near me. GOT IT?!"

and he was just. . .😳 damn

highkey thought your yelling was hot

so the weeks pass and surprisingly he listens to you and doesn't speak to you outside of making requests for his costume or giving feedback

and your relationship with him is relatively stable

you're not friends but you can live together without ripping each other apart

there's a term for it but i forget what it is

he starts coming by more often because there's a kink in one of your gadgets

so you ask him to stay after school to test it out and figure out what the problem is

you end up talking

and you realise he's not as much of an asshole as you thought he was

and your relationship turns into more of a "friendship" but not if that makes sense?

like, "ok so i don't hate you, but i still hate you."

does that make sense? i how it does

anyways,

the two of you start saying hi in the halls or nodding at each other

bakugo's babies see this and are like ??

yOU MADE A FREND??

yes. yes he did 😌

so kirishima and mina try and convince him to introduce them to you

"why would i introduce you to that dumbass? they're nothing special."

he doesn't mean it, he's just flustered.

so kirishima, mina, kaminari, and sero start looking out for you in the halls

and they start picking up on your routine

without knowing they basically know your schedule

it's bakugo who points it out when kirishima said it was time to go

🦈 "oh! it's time to go guys!"

💥 "why? lunch isn't even over yet"

⚡️ "y/n usually goes to that vending machine by their art class during this time"

💥 ". . . how do you fuckers know that?"

and they're all silent like. . . how do they know that?

that's when it hits then that without them knowing, you slipped your way into their heart

because here they were,

right next to the vending machine where you always go 20 minutes before lunch ended to get a small snack

and when you get there and see bakugo surrounded by a bunch of people looking at you with starry eyed

". . . hi?"

mina lunges at you and asks how the hell you tamed bakugo

"easy, i beat his ass."

"NO YOU DIDN'T YOU FUCKER!"

and you just snort at his reaction and put some coins into the vending machine

"why do you think your gauntlet backfired yesterday, dumbass?"

and he blanks like. . .wait. . . wAIT A MINUTE

"THAT WAS YOU?!"

you nod, "wish i was there to see it though."

and you pout

fUCKING.

POUT.

and they all just feel their heart go doki doki

so the bell rings for class to start and you say goodbye to them and kaminari promises to show you the video he took of bakugo's gauntlet backfiring tmr at lunch

and while they're walking to class, none of them are talking

which is very unusual

but they all know their thoughts are only of you

it's kind of like an unspoken agreement that they're all falling for you

they have a hard time paying attention in class that day.

OK NEXT DAY!!

so you rush over to the bakusquad and practically throw yourself at kaminari

because you wanna see that video

you don't notice he's a blushing mess and the others are staring a bit bitterly because

:I i want that

so he shows you the video and you start laughing so hard

and it's so contagious and soon they're all laughing

except bakugo because he refuses to laugh at himself

but they suddenly hear someone calling your name

and you all look over and see some guy who's also from general studies

they see you roll your eyes and mutter, "fucking hell" under your breath

so it's safe to assume you don't like this guy.

"hey l/n."

"hey tanaka. . ."

the boy shoves his hands in his pockets, "so about that date saturday-"

you might have slapped the bakusquad in the face with a fish because holy-

they never considered you were seeing anyone and now they're kinda heartbroken because oop-

caught feelings too quick 🙊

but you grind your teeth, "it's not a date tanaka. the teacher paired us up for a project because he knows you're so incapable of doing anything on your own you have to be watched like a child."

anD WHOO BOY THEY WERE NOT EXPECTING THAT

kaminari snorts a bit before slapping a hand over his mouth

mina grabs kirishima's arm and burries her face into his jacket to stifle her laughs

kirishima and sero and just staring at each other with wide eyes and slowly growing smiles like "bro did they just say that?" "dude i think they did!"

and bakugo. . .

he's staring at you with the proudest look in his eyes and a smirk because yeah, that's his baby

wait what.

now the boy is a bit embarrassed that you said that in front of some of the school's top heroes

so he sputters a bit before walking away with a red face

💥 "damn i didn't know you had that in you, spit fire."

you stare at him a bit with a small blush at the nickname

and you sputter out a thanks before making an excuse to leave (something about banana milk)

and they all stare at each other

⚡️ ". . .did they . ."

🦈 "was that a-"

🍊 "holy fuck that was-"

💥 "-adorable."

mina is took shocked to say anything

during this time, you bang to realise your feelings for the group as well

but you thought you were being selfish for wanting all five of them

so you kind of avoid them for the next few days in hopes of your feelings going away

you change up your schedule

and when you see them or one of then in the halls you turn around and go another direction

they were a bit confused as to what they did

but kirisima assured them that you were probably just working out your feelings and they should respect that

so they did

and they pretended it didn't hurt when you suddenly dart the other way when you see one of them

they gave you your space

and they thought you would come to them when you had everything worked out

until bakugo cane storming into the dorms one day

he was obviously pissed, but his eyes were also a bit glossy

so they all dragged him to kirishima's room since it was closest and asked him was was wrong

💥 "that dumbass quit from making my items."

and they were all kind of shocked

like wtf ??

uhm, for why?

you had assured bakugo that you wouldn't be another one of those losers who resigned because of his eccentric personality

and yet here we are

they spend the rest of the night in kirishima' room comforting bakugo

because he really took it the hardest

like sure the others liked you too,

but bakugo spent the most time with you

and developed a deeper relationship with you than the others

so the next day,

kirishima wants to talk to you

so he goes to the support room and bumps into hatsume as she was walking out

he asks her if you're in

"oh, yeah they are, I'll go get them for you."

this is a lot longer than i thought it would be uhhh oops

so you come out, not knowing it was kirishima asking for you because hatsume was vague

only telling you, "someone wants to talk to you"

like ok specifics??

anyways

you're like. . . oop heyyy. . .

because you knew what he was there for

the two of you don’t say anything for a bit

you’re just staring at your shoes and he’s looking at you with a small frown on his face

lowkey he’s kinda disappointed in you

so he finally speaks first

“you quit.”

it’s not a question, or something you were expecting

but you nod

there’s another silence

“why?”

you fiddle with your fingers for a bit.

now this was a question you were expecting, though, you didn’t want to answer

kirishima is a patient boy though, and waits for you to gather the courage to tell him

he’s not leaving without an answer

“i just-” you begin, “i. . .”

kirishima is still waiting patiently for your answer

“i don’t want to be selfish.”

now he surprised. wdym selfish. please explain.

“it’s just- you all already have such an established relationship and i don’t want to interrupt that. you guys have a schedule. adding myself into the mix would only mess all of that up, and no matter how strong my feelings are for all of you, i could never mess up your relationship like that. it would be so selfish of me to put my feelings before all of yours, so i thought the only way to get rid of these feeling as to distance myself from all of you...”

“starting with bakugo...” kirishima whispered after your rambling came to an end.

you nodded

kiri was at a stand still for a bit

and it was silent once again in the hall

kiri knew his lovers had feelings for you too, and would have no problem adding you into the relationship,

but he also knew he couldn’t fore you into anything

he was about to reassure you that you wouldn’t be interrupting anything and that they would love to have you in the relationship

but then you were tackled

to the ground

by kaminari

and smacked your head against the floor

really hard

like, you passed out

ahaha. . .

when you wake up, your head feels like it’s going to split open

and the loud voices aren’t helping

so you let out a groan, “shut the fuck up...”

and everything goes silent.

until someone SCREAMS AGAIN

“YOU’RE AWAKE!”

it’s kaminari

bless his soul

poor baby is a bit slow

so you groan out again and clutch your head

bakugo slaps the back of kaminari’s head

“shut the fuck up, dunce face!”

he whisper shouts

mina hands you some pain killers recovery girl said you give you when you woke up, and sero hands you a glass of water

they’re all watching you as you take the pills

it’s silent for a bit

and it’s making you anxious, so you fiddle with the empty glass for a bit before bakugo snatches it from you,

“dumbass...” he muttered as he refilled it and handed it back to you

sero rubs the back of his head, “so...”

mina pulls at the hem of her sweater, “we heard everything you said to kirishima.”

kaminari sits next to you on the bed and whispers, “sorry for tackling you. i just got a bit emotional...”

I'm so sorry this is getting so long 😭😭 i'm trying to wrap this up so if it gets a bit jumbled, my bad

so they all reassyre you you're more than welcome into their relationship and wouldn't be interfering with anything

so you agree

and they're all so happy 🥳🥳

and while everyone is celebrating

(quietly because your head still feels like shit)

bakugo comes up to you

"you better start making my items again, dumbass. those other dipshits in your class don't know what they're doing."

bakugo only said that because they weren't you but he'd never outright say that to you

OK ITS OVER OH MY

IT GOT SO LONG IM SO SORRY LMAO

#imagines #mha #bakugo imagine #mha imagines #bakugo katsuki #bakugo katuski x reader #angst #mha headcanons #headcanons #mina x reader #kirishima x reader #kaminari x reader #sero x reader #mha poly #poly bakusquad #bakugo x reader

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jackrrabbit · 4 years

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Unprofessional [pt. 1] /// Yandere Tendou x f!Reader

Summary: The new hire you’re supposed to be training at your office job is a little too attached for his own good…or yours. [Part 2]

A/N: Someone requested yandere Tendou and I was like !!! However when I wrote it, it turned out kinda long so I split it into 2 parts; I’ll answer the req when I post part 2. Anyway I’m obsessed with the concept of salaryman Tendou, please enjoy!

Tags/warnings: yandere, timeskip (Tendou is 22-23 in this), workplace/office setting, liberal use of “senpai”, alcohol, Tendou’s crackhead energy is toned down a little bit because of the setting [In part 2: smut, 18+]

You don’t really like Tendou when you first meet him.

Your first impression when your boss introduces the new employee is that he’s all talk and no substance. He’s been hired fresh out of university, and he’s got the stink of a former frat boy all over him—that baseless enthusiasm, chaotic goodwill and arrogance mixed together. That might have been your type when you were still sucking down cheap keg beer from red solo cups, but you’re two years into your career as a real grown-up adult now, and the cockiness that radiates off Tendou in waves is just…annoying.

Unfortunately, when your boss tells you to take the newbie under your wing, train him, and be his mentor, it’s not a request. It’s a demand. So you decide to suck it up. If you’re going to have to spend every second at the office with Tendou trailing after you like a baby duck, you may as well get used to him.

After a few weeks, you have to admit he’s not that bad. Sure, he’s not the best at respecting personal space, but how can you blame him? When he looms over you to reach for a file above your head for the nth time and traps you between his body and the cabinet, you finally lose your patience and snap at him to give you some space, but he looks so surprised and apologizes so sincerely that you can’t help forgiving him. You feel a little bad, even, when he explains that he’s never worked in an office before so he’s not used to all the rules that he’s expected to follow in a professional environment.

You can’t really fault him for that, especially when you’re the one who’s supposed to be teaching him these things. “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean anything,” you tell him, and he perks up so quickly that you feel even worse for chewing him out in the first place.

The thing is, Tendou doesn’t really stop getting close to you once you chastise him. It just bothers you less. The dozenth time his hand lingers over yours while you’re passing him a document or he picks an invisible thread off your blouse or sits a little too close when you’re riding in the back of a taxi to a client meeting, you start convincing yourself that you’re overreacting. He’s probably not being that much more pushy than your other coworkers—you’re just more aware of him because you don’t know him as well.

And it doesn’t help that he’s tall, towering over you and pretty much everyone else in the office. The cheap suits he cycles through can’t quite conceal the hard lines of muscle underneath—oh, whoops. Now you’re the one crossing boundaries. Tendou is so big that you’re just…more conscious of his presence, right?

This is drilled into you one night after a marathon overtime session when you’re carrying a tall stack of boxes back to the archives. Maybe it’s because you’ve been at work for 11 hours, but the files feel like they’re filled with rocks, not paper. Your muscles are this close to giving out when Tendou appears out of nowhere to pluck the files out of your arms. “Here. Gimme, gimme, I’ll take ‘em.”

The way he carries the heavy boxes so effortlessly makes you kind of embarrassed at how much you’d struggled with them. “You’re pretty strong, hm,” you say absently. Oops, was that inappropriate? You don’t want him thinking you’re hitting on him or something.

“Oh—yeah I guess?” Tendou’s laugh (the one that used to grate on your nerves) sounds like he’s pleased with himself. “I go to the gym a lot.”

“Wish I could find the time. Or the discipline,” you reply as he replaces the file box in the archive room.

“Wow, senpai is calling me disciplined. My heart is pounding.”

His tone is sarcastic enough that you don’t think twice about the second part of his statement. “Don’t get too full of yourself. If you have the energy to go to the gym, you should spend that time double checking your expense reports before you submit them.”

“Ouch.” Tendou holds his hand over his heart in mock betrayal. “Targeting my weak points, how ruthless. But seriously, working out is second nature to me. Been doin it since I was a kid so it doesn’t take any kinda discipline.”

“Oh? Did you play sports or something?”

“Yeah…” Tendou’s voice trails off and when you pause from your task of organizing the files to look up at him, he’s staring directly at you. “…Used to play volleyball. Grade school through college.”

The way he’s looking at you, searching your face for something you can’t identify, makes you think this is more important than it seems. You tip your head to the side, waiting for him to continue.

“Our team in high school was pretty good,” he says slowly.

“That’s cool,” you say, turning back to the paperwork. “Did you ever play Shiratorizawa? They’re my old high school—I think their volleyball team went to nationals back in the day. I was never into sports though.”

A moment passes, and you frown. Did you say something wrong? But just before you’re about to change the subject, Tendou starts laughing. “Shiratorizawa? No, I don’t think I ever played them.”

Your laugh joins his a second late, although you don’t know why he thinks it’s funny in the first place. In the echo of your voices, you can hear how quiet it is in the archives. There’s something here you’re missing, but you’re not sure what.

Luckily enough, the somewhat awkward atmosphere doesn’t carry over to the next day. When you get into the office, Tendou is his usual clingy self, distracting you from your own work to ask you to teach him something and pulling you away when you’re talking to your coworkers so you can double check his emails before he sends them. If anything, he’s more attached than usual—when you go to a contract renewal negotiation with a client he insists on tagging along, so you let him after making him promise not to get in the way.

Of course he doesn’t keep his promise, but you end up appreciating his intrusion more than you could have predicted. The client is stubborn and rude until Tendou chimes in (much to your dismay, at first) with an offer to add on some oddly specific perks to the contract. You’re already practicing your apology speech to the boss in anticipation of losing the client, but to your amazement he agrees to Tendou’s terms and the deal is sealed, along with a healthy bonus for you.

You’re on cloud nine, practically skipping out of the building with Tendou at your side as you fantasize about what you’re going to do with the bonus after you split it with him. A weekend vacation out of the city? An online shopping spree? Some fancy dinners at five-star restaurants? Knowing you, the money will end up going straight to your savings, but you still can’t contain your giddiness. “How did you know he wanted that add-on? Seriously, I had no idea!”

“A guess! I’m good at reading people.” Tendou’s just as elated as you, pumping his fist and whooping like a kid as soon as you’re away from the client’s earshot. “Woohoo! Yay! Our first sale together!”

“A guess? You risked that huge contract on a guess?” You roll your eyes but you’re too excited to be mad at him. “Anyway, you don’t have to say ‘our’ first sale, I know it was all you. I’ll tell the boss you’re doing a good job.”

“No way, it’s ours! Both of us. Me and senpai.” Tendou’s hand reaches down and his fingers lace with yours, squeezing so tight his knuckles go pale.

The thrill of your success flickers as nervousness sets in. Is he holding your hand? “Tendou—“

“Senpaiiiii~” he says in sing-song, swinging your hand as you walk to meet the taxi and ignoring your meek attempts to pull away. “Didn’t I do a good job?”

“Y-Yeah. Good job, Tendou.”

Work friends. The two of you are work friends. Your boss passes all comments to Tendou through you (mostly things about how he’s good with clients and charismatic but needs to stop making minor errors on paperwork). When one of you is sick, your coworkers ask the other to pass on their good wishes. Tendou fits into his role at the office seamlessly, and you can’t say you don’t appreciate the fact that all of his good work is reflecting well on you.

So when his birthday rolls around two months after he’s hired, it’s up to you to plan the office drinking party (only after he complains to you about how he doesn’t have any friends since moving to Tokyo). You have the date you got from Facebook—May 20th—circled in red pen on your private calendar along with a little doodle of a birthday cake.

“What’s that?” asks one of your coworkers, pointing to the circle, as you flip through your agenda a week before the event.

“Tendou’s turning 23,” you tell him. “It’s a Friday, so some of us are going to go to a restaurant and drink a little. You’re coming, right?”

“Oh…yeah.” Your coworker scratches his head and clears his throat. “You guys are pretty close, huh. Um, I actually wanted to ask—you’re not together, are you?”

A chill runs up your spine. “Together? Who said that?” If this rumor gets around to your boss it’ll kill your career. These things always look worse for the woman than for the man. God, it was probably something Tendou said without thinking, he’s always talking about you and someone could easily misinterpret all that praise…

“Well, if you’re dating—“

“We’re not dating,” you say quickly. “We do a lot of work together because I’m training him, but it’s not like that.”

“Really?” Your coworker straightens and smiles. “Cause I was actually thinking of asking if you wanted to go out this weekend—“

“Senpai? Can you help me with this draft?”

Damnit, it’s Tendou getting in the way at the absolute worst time—especially considering he just had to come up behind you and put his hand on your shoulder. Seriously, how many times do you have to tell him to stop doing that when you’re talking to someone else? You’re not sure whether to be irritated at him for cutting your coworker off, concerned that the other man won’t believe what you said about you and Tendou having a strictly professional relationship, or relieved that you don’t have to give an answer to what sounds like an offer for a date.

You cast an apologetic glance at your coworker and make your way over to Tendou’s desk, hoping against hope that the interruption doesn’t look too suspicious. You’d die if word got around to your boss that you were dating your mentee.

///

You’ve got this office drinking party thing down to an art. Step one is to load up on greasy appetizers that’ll increase your alcohol tolerance, step two is to drink plenty of water, and step three is to pour yourself a single drink early and take small sips.

There’s a step four, too: make sure no one else’s glass get’s below the 1/4 mark. Your boss and coworkers are a lot less receptive to how little you’re drinking when they’re all nice and tipsy. It’s a system you’ve perfected over the years, one that allows you to have fun with people from the office without risking making an ass out of yourself or getting a hangover (which, at 25, is a lot more unpleasant than it used to be).

You can’t count the number of times you’ve witnessed the awkward drunken escapades of your fellows, which range from the endearing (your boss crying over how much he loves his wife) to the awkward (coworker makeout sessions) to the potentially criminal (bar fights. So many bar fights). You’re happy to remain a neutral observer, and tonight is no exception.

The only problem is that Tendou hasn’t yet mastered the art of drinking lightly when you’re around people you work with, so now, at the end of his party, he’s (for lack of a better word) trashed. His cheek is mashed flat to the restaurant table like it’s glued there and his head is surrounded by progressive rings of bottles and cans. It’s some kind of miracle that he hasn’t yet gone to the bathroom to get sick.

“Sorry Tendou,” you sigh. “I should have been keeping a better eye on you.” You had no idea he’d get so drunk so quickly. Aren’t tall guys supposed to have high tolerance or something?

“Sssshenpaii,” Tendou slurs, hoisting his head off the table with that looks like Herculean effort. “I liiiike when…when ya look at me…”

“Ha, ha,” you say sarcastically.

Tendou’s head whips around. “Where’d everyone go?”

“They all left—now it’s time for us to go home too. Come on, I’ll help you get to the taxi.” You pay the bill (oof, there goes your petty cash for the week) and pull on Tendou’s shirt sleeve to get him to stand up. Luckily he’s just sober enough to realize what you want him to do and he follows you out to the street with an arm draped over your shoulders to steady his meandering footsteps.

The real trouble comes when the two of you are seated comfortably in the cab and the driver asks for Tendou’s address, which, apparently, he can’t remember. You do the sensible thing and look through his phone, but his own contact card provides no hint to where he lives in Tokyo, only a phone number, email, and address in Sendai which has to be his parents’ house—

Wait.

Tendou’s from Sendai?

You’re from Sendai. You didn’t know he was too. What a coincidence that both of you moved to Tokyo from Sendai. You’ve mentioned your hometown to him a couple times—how come he never told you he’s from the same place? You’re only two years older than him; maybe you’ve run across him in Sendai before the two of you started working together.

Now that you think about it, his face has always been kind of familiar…you thought it was just ‘one of those faces’, but…?

This isn’t the time to wonder, though. You poke Tendou gently in the side, careful not to jar him enough to risk any stomach upset. “Tendou? Do you remember what street you live on?”

After a long pause Tendou names a street, but it’s your company’s address which isn’t located anywhere near a residential district. When you tell him to think harder, he grimaces, lips pulling back to bare his teeth. “Don’ wanna go home…lemme sleep over at senpai’s house.”

“What? You can’t stay at my place.”

“Why noooot? ‘m tired,” he drawls, eyes closing as his head droops onto your shoulder in the back of the cab.

“It’s—it’s inappropriate—wait, no-no-no-no don’t fall asleep,” you tell him desperately but it’s already too late. A light snore filters out of him and you curse. “Tendou—“

“Address?” the cab driver barks insistently, giving you the stink eye in the rearview mirror.

Shit. Well, it is his birthday, you have a pull-out couch, and it’s not like anyone from the office is around to see you going home together. Tomorrow morning you’ll just have to give him a lecture about professional boundaries and make him promise not to breathe a word of this to your boss.

You give your own address to the cab driver. Tendou sleeps peacefully on your shoulder throughout the entire drive, rousing only when you whisper his name in his ear outside your building (which is a miracle, because you know without a doubt that you’re not capable of carrying him). When you get up to your apartment, you deposit him on the sofa bed and tell him not to look through your stuff while you brush your teeth.

Obviously, he doesn’t listen to you. When you emerge from the bathroom, Tendou is standing in the middle of your living room and turning the pages of an old photo album of yours.

“Hey, give me that.” You try to pull it away from him, but he doesn’t let go and his grip is stronger than yours, so the album remains firmly in his hands. “If you’re sober enough to mess with my things, you should go home.”

“This is senpai, right?” Tendou says, pointing to one of the photos.

Despite your exasperation, you lean in to take a look. It’s a picture from high school with you and some friends, all of you wearing your Shiratorizawa uniforms and grinning cheekily at whoever took the picture. Your fingers are cocked up in a peace sign. “Yeah? That’s me.”

“So cute…senpai is really cute…” Tendou’s long finger trails over the edge of your face though the filmy plastic covering the photo.

“Um…you need to get to sleep,” you say nervously, pulling a little harder on the album.

He doesn’t budge, instead just flipping back in the album to older pictures from when you were little until he stops at a photo of you and your younger brother in grade school. Against your better judgement, you frown and look closer to try and pick up whatever caught his interest in this particular image.

“How old…?” he asks.

“I don’t know, 10 or 11 maybe?”

Tendou nods. “When I met senpai…you were this old, yeah.”

“Jeez, you’re really drunk. We met two months ago, remember? I was on the interview board.”

“Yeah.” Tendou’s gaze is glued to the photo. “I was so sad, ‘cause senpai doesn’t remember me. But also really happy to see you after such a long time…I thought it was a dream…”

“Hm? I don’t get it.”

Tendou finally looks up from the picture and meets your wary gaze with those wide red eyes. God, you used to think his face was so creepy—lately you find his zealousness endearing, almost childlike, but right now? It’s making your feet itch how much you want to step away from him. “I was really hoping you would remember on your own, but I guess I’ll have to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“How me an’ senpai met…”

Are you imagining it, or does his voice sound a lot less slurred than it did just 20 minutes ago? “You’re not making any sense.”

“Shh, just listen…your little brother played volleyball when you were kids, didn’t he?”

How did he know that? You nod hesitantly.

“Yeah…he was in my grade. He was a bad kid, y’know that? Always saying mean things to me.”

It’s true. Your brother’s always had a mean streak in him.

“He used to call me a monster. ‘Cause, y’know—“ Tendou taps a finger against his face. “Guess I look weird. And my name, too. So he said he didn’t wanna play with me. Demons can’t play on human teams. Every day, saying cruel things. I really hated him.”

Monster. Volleyball. Your little brother. Tendou Satori like the mind-reading spirits from folklore. Something’s coming to mind, a memory you haven’t thought about in years—no, decades.

Your little brother making fun of another kid. A tall kid with red hair in a bowl cut.

“I-I remember,” you stammer. “I came to his practice one time and you were there, right? That bowl cut kid was you. I got mad at him for calling you names and I yelled at him. That’s when we met?”

“Correct!” Tendou’s beaming like you just told him he won the lottery instead of recalling a random fifteen-year-old memory. “You made him let me play! I got to get on the court, and block him, and see his beaten face looking up at me. All because of senpai.”

You can play this off, you think to yourself. Tell him you’re sorry for how your brother treated him. Ask him why he never told you that the two of you have met before. Say something. Anything. But your mouth is too dry to let you speak.

“And, you know…” Tendou’s voice softens and a light blush dusts his cheeks. “I thought you were so cool. I couldn’t believe you were related to that jerk. Can I…tell you a secret?”

No. Deep down you know what he’s going to say, and you don’t want to hear it.

Tendou’s hand comes up to comb through your hair, gently pulling through the delicate strands next to your face and tucking them back so he can lean in and whisper into your ear (even though there’s no one else around). “I like you, senpai.”

Stop it. Stop it. Your blood feels cold in your veins.

“I’ve liked you ever since then. I used to wish we were in the same grade so I could be your friend and talk to you every day. Whenever we were in different schools I missed seeing you in the halls and hearing your voice when you spoke to other people.”

“Stop...stop talking,” you whisper, but Tendou continues like he didn’t hear you.

“Why’d you have to go all the way to Tokyo for college? In my third year at Shiratorizawa I studied for your school’s entrance exam forever, but I didn’t get in. Was too busy with volleyball, I guess.” He pauses. “Oh, by the way, I went to Shiratorizawa. I lied about that, sorry. But—seriously, d’you have any idea how hard it was for me when you were away at university? Not seeing the person I love for six years?”

Love, he said. You feel nauseous. “Tendou, you don’t—“

“Let me finish, okay senpai? You don’t know how much I’ve been through. Always having to respect your ‘personal space’—“ he frames the phrase in mocking air quotes— “when I need to touch you so bad I feel like I’m gonna explode.”

And then he’s hugging you into his chest, crushing your torso into his. You struggle and try to get him to let you go, but Tendou is so much stronger than you.

“You’re not that different from your brother after all, are you?” he hums into your hair. “You’ve been torturing me. You know how you lean over my desk when you show me something on my computer? I can…see down your shirt when you do that. And I smell your perfume. I spent two hours at the mall trying all the different perfumes so I could find the right one…thought my nose was gonna stop working! But don’t laugh—“

You’re not laughing.

“—the salesgirl looked at me funny but I got it eventually. Chance Eau Fraiche, right? I can’t believe how expensive that stuff is, what is it made of gold? It was worth it though! I saw this news article about how smelling things in your sleep can trigger memories, so I tried spraying your perfume on my pillow before I go to bed and now I get to see you at work and when I’m dreaming—”

“STOP IT!” Your slap echoes across the room with a resounding crack. You’ve never hit anyone before in your life, but your aim is good enough to leave Tendou staring with a shocked expression off to the side and a bright red mark on his face. His arms fall down from you and you back away from him, clutching your hand to your chest. “You need to get out. You’re drunk and you’re not thinking clearly. We...we can talk about this tomorrow, but right now you have to go.”

Your heart is beating like hummingbird wings, sending a flush up to your face that you know is visible. Tendou ghosts his hand over his cheek and is quiet for a long moment. “I wanted to do this the right way,” he says finally.

“What?”

“I tried. But you’re so obsessed with professionalism. You refused to see me like that,” he sighs. “You’re too responsible. Although it’s one of the things I like about you.”

“Please listen to me...” The psychological anxiety of this revelation is stirring up a primal fight or flight instinct, and you start backing up.

“I really wanted to treat you gently. You deserve to be treated well…”

“Tendou, wait.” How far are you from your bedroom? You don’t want to resort to hiding from him, but you’d feel a lot better with a locked door between you and him.

“…but senpai, I’ve waited so long. And it’s my birthday.”

Your hands scrabble for the doorknob, only—oh. He’s not just stronger than you, he’s faster too.

➠ [Part 2]

#Tendou Satori x reader #Tendou Satori #Tendou x reader #haikyuu x reader #Tendo Satori x reader #Tendo Satori #Tendo x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #yandere #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere Tendou Satori x reader #yandere Tendou Satori #yandere Tendo Satori x reader #yandere Tendo Satori

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nkhrchuwuya · 2 years

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your a writer?! ur beautiful writing makes so much sense now. praying you could write for chuuya as a job instead of whatever else u have to write for. and not the third-all nighter in a row 😞 hopefully whatever job/ report you’re working on now gets finished soon.

oops, forgot to mention that was i submitted that last thing sorry (🐙)

aww thank you 😊 to be fair i did get professionally trained in creative writing in (arts) high school, and got some more polishing in my social sciences uni major, besides my years and years of fanfiction... so it's really just lots of practice! i'm really glad it shows 💖

thank you anon 🥺 i'd love to go back to just taking commissions, but it really wasn't stable enough to hit my savings goals in time 💔

thank you so much for your well-wishes! hopefully i finish this major one by tonight and get some rest on monday, if the revisions gods are kind enough 🤪 you take care too anon! it was lovely talking to you again 💕

#asks #🐙 anon

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super-lovely-collection · 5 years

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🍬 what's your favorite candy? and 🧟‍♂️ what's your favorite monster?

🍬 what’s your favorite candy?

Oooo I am going to say Kit Kats! They are my go to candy…but I use to like this one called whatchamacallit! I can’t find that one in stores, but it use to be my fave! ^^

🧟‍♂️ what’s your favorite monster?

I’m going old school here, and saying Dracula is my fave! I always been a sucker for vampires, and I always enjoyed Bela Lugosi version (before I fell into the world of anime/manga/anne rice)! lol

#oops i hit submit too soon #before i could answer the second question!#so here is both now #thank you for the asks!#this has made my night #ask reply #free friday

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vampcubus · 4 years

Note

Okay but like, Izuku's s/o sneaked in his dorm room late at night to blow him but he has to do his damn best to not be too loud or he'll wake up half of the building. He's all muffled sounds, squirming body, face red and tears in his eyes. 😍 Oh and he cant touch her cause those are the rules! 😋💞

A/N: Gettin some of those leftover Thirsty Thursday asks finished~ I loved this one!! Bless the anon who sent me it 😍💚 This got long, oops.

(Y/N/N = Your Nickname)

Warnings: nsfw!!, blow jobs, somnophilia?? (kind of? at first?)

Words: 1600+

. . .

Shh (Midoriya/Reader | nsfw)

You slipped into Izuku’s dorm as quietly as possible, smiling when you saw your boyfriend fast asleep, drooling onto the pillow a little as he dreamed the night away. You can only hope that he’s having good dreams, though you’ve come to make those dreams even better. It wasn’t necessarily uncommon for you to creep into his room in the middle of the night since both of you had a hard time sleeping sometimes, that and you just couldn’t keep your hands off one another. Not always in a sexual way of course, usually, you just snuck in to cuddle or sleep with him for a few hours of the night.

But you weren’t interested in cuddling or a wink of sleep tonight.

Carefully, you peeled away the covers from his chin to the foot of his bed, crawling onto the end of the bed to make a plan of attack. You took a moment to admire him, that dumb shirt with “shirt” written across the front slightly skewed to reveal a glimpse of his abs, pillow clutched to his chest as he lightly snored into it. You licked your lips and crawled over him, running your hands delicately up and down his thighs. He made a noise in his sleep but otherwise didn’t stir. You sink down onto the mattress parting his legs to get comfy between them as your hands started to knead his thighs, thumbs tracing ever closer to the space between his legs.

Izuku twitched and sighed at the contact, body shifting around some. Grinning you pressed your cheek against the bulge in his basketball shorts, nuzzling your cheeks against the length of him as he slowly reacted to your touch. Your hand slid from his thigh to grope him through his shorts, squeezing the shape of his hardening cock as he began to squirm and mumble. You thought you heard him murmur your name once, but you could just be imagining things with the clouded state your mind was in.

Starting to get impatient, you eagerly hooked your fingers under the waistband of his basketball shorts and tugged them down his legs, eyes widening in delight when you saw the wet spot already forming where his tip nearly popped out of his boxers. Licking your lips, you slid those off too. You felt yourself growing warm between your thighs as you wrapped an eager hand around his shaft, already beginning to pump the length of him from base to tip. Izuku canted his hips into your grasp in his sleep, a crease starting to form between his brows. You definitely heard him whisper your name this time.

As soon as you started trailing butterfly kisses up the sides of his cock Izuku began to wriggle and shift around on the sheets, eyes moving behind his lids as he started to stir, a few soft moans of approval escaping his lips. As you trailed the flat of your wet tongue up the underside of his member you felt his abdomen shudder under your hand and heard a squeak of your name from above. You looked up to see sleepy emerald eyes peering down into yours, half-lidded and most likely not entirely awake but still conscious enough for you to hum against him at the sight.

His eyes fluttered shut at the vibration and then shot back open when he began to process what was going on.

“Y-Y/N? Wh-what’re you doing—oh fu~ck,” Izuku’s startled questions were cut off by his own moan as you took the head of his cock into your mouth and sucked, knowing how sensitive he was in that specific spot.

He tosses his head of curls back when you slip another inch of him into your inviting mouth, hands darting into your hair instinctively as he shuddered in pleasure. To his surprise, you popped off his length and tugged his fingers from your tresses and pressed them to the sheets instead.

“Nuh-uh, no touching! You so much as try and I’ll leave you like this. Do you want that?” You asked in that husky almost honey-like tone you used almost specifically to turn him on, at least that’s how he perceived it. He shook his head frantically and clutched the sheets instead, stuttering out a meek “No…” before you wrapped your lips back around him.

Izuku shivered at the return of your mouth’s heat and choked when you took nearly all of him into your mouth at once. His hips jerked up against your face, and you firmly press a hand against his abdomen to keep them pinned down. As you took in two-thirds of his thick length you began to bob your head, thighs rubbing together at the mewl that tumbled from his trembling lips. The heavenly noises that followed making you drip for him even more, but as his volume increased you started to worry. Humming, you pulled off his length, receiving a pitiful look and whimper from the green-haired boy below you. The clear confusion in his pretty green eyes making you smile.

“Quiet down some, we can’t have you waking up half the building now can we?” You cooed, and he rushed to cover his mouth with his palm as you swallowed his cock again, the tip of him hitting the back of your throat as it contracted around him.

Izuku let out a muffled squeal against his hand as you dragged your tongue against the underside, your nose pressing into his pubes every time you descended onto his impressive length. He was breathing heavily, thighs shaking underneath you and twitching up to brush against your full cheeks every now and then as his body spasmed. You let your eyes drift up to see your handiwork and swoon when you see the beautiful red his face has turned, tears pooling at the corners of his emerald green eyes, eyes rolled back as his hips struggle against your hold. He moans between his fingers, unable to muffle the sound and you suck him a little harder, moving up to focus on the tip and fondling his balls with your hand.

Izuku keens, back arching into your touch as the tears start streaming down his flushed face, eyes half-rolled into the back of his head as he fights to watch your lips engulf his length and submit to the pleasure. He barely muffles a strangled groan when you take him deep into your throat again.

“P-pleath fasthter! Ohh, fasthter, pleath!” He begs, his pleadings muffled by his sweaty palm as his hips continued to try and buck.

Instead of increasing your pace, you slow down and he thrashes beneath you, writhing on the sheets in frustration as the tears pool down his freckled cheeks. He whines pathetically and you reward him with a moan around his cock, to which he chokes out a groan. Removing his hand from his lips, he tries to beg again, trying to reach out to that soft spot he knows you have in you. The one that’s always hardest to get to, but gives him whatever he wants.

“Y/N/N~ Please… please, baby… more.” Izuku pleads, teary eyes gazing into yours as you continue to suck him at a torturously slow pace. Eventually, you break and a deep affection fills your gleaming eyes and you pick up the pace significantly.

Izuku’s head tosses and meets his pillow, hips almost arching right off the bed as you suck him with twice the vigor than before. He shoves his fist into his mouth to smother his desperate noises, thighs trembling around your head. You grasp his thighs and press them down to the sheets, sinking down onto his cock until your nose presses into his curly pubes and he starts gasping with every bump of his tip against your throat.

“Y/—I-I’m—c-can I ohh!, may I please cum?!” Izuku pleads, being such the polite little sweetheart you fell in love with, as well as the sinful little sub you’ve turned him into as he asked for your permission to explode. Such a courteous little boy~ You release his cock from your mouth, pumping him with your slick hands to ask him in the most sultry voice you can manage.

“Yes, you certainly may~ Do you want to cum in my mouth or on my face, baby?” Both options are strikingly appealing to him and he hasn’t the brain to decipher the difference, but in a jumble of scrambled thoughts running through his overloaded mind, he settled on the former with certainty.

“Y-your mouth, fuck please your mouth!” Izuku mewled, eyes already so far back in his skull he was sure he could see his brain.

You swallowed his cock down to the hilt just as promised and give him three more harsh sucks before pulling back until half of his length lay in your awaiting mouth and you moaned shamelessly around his flushed cock. Izuku snatched the pillow from right under his head and buried his face in it to drown out his scream as his hips stuttered against your face and he came in your mouth, ropes of his cum spurting across your tongue and flowing deliciously down your throat and bubbling past your lips to drip down to your chin.

Izuku convulsed like a man-possessed for a few moments longer before collapsing into a heap on the mattress, sinking into a mumbling pile of Deku pudding above the sheets as you popped off his softening length and licked your lips. As Izuku was recovering from a rather intense orgasm, you removed the pillow from his face, smiling down at the red-cheeked and slightly-dazed looking state of your boyfriend. You leaned down to press a sweet kiss to his forehead and whispered,

“Thank you for the meal,” And then stalked out of his dorm, leaving a flustered Izuku to blink into the darkness.

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deobitchxx · 4 years

Text

[ 23:30 // 28.06.20 // SMUT ] You were supposed to sit on the bed with your body wrapped by Juyeon’s arms while watching the movie that he suggested, Extraction. You were totally not a big fan of action movies but that was the only way for you to snuggle closer to him while watching the movie since none of you preferred action. He didn’t encourage you either to watch action movies with him too but he knew you had your other intention besides snuggling with him on the bed; Just some netflix and chill thingy between both of you. However, it all became just another dream passed by as you watched the latter sitting on the desk chair, nose scrunched up to adjust the glasses he was wearing to have a better eyesight of the thing he was doing at the moment; Leaving you alone on the bed-- Helplessly horny. You wanted his attention, you wanted his touch. Everything about him became something you were eager to crave lately. “Have you not finished yet?” Your lips puffed out, totally not liking the way he treated his friend. It was not his work at all to begin with, but his friend got irresponsible with his work and asked the kind Juyeon to help him out and yay, that Juyeon saved his friend’s day! You rolled your eyes at the thought. It wasn’t like you hate the idea of how he treats people so generously but he should’ve known his limits. He said he dislikes people who are breaking their promises but guess who broke his own promise now?

“You promised to me that we’re going to watch the movie tonight.” You heard a sigh coming out from his lips, “Sorry babe, but he needed to submit the assignments tomorrow as soon as possible. He’s already struggling with his finances, the least I could do is help him as much as I can.” His response made no sense to you, thus earning a groan from you. You threw your back to the bed, staring at the ceiling blankly as you were figuring out ways to make him distracted from the work. “Oh boo I got a joke to share with you,” crossing your legs to sit on the bed, your voice sounded so cheerful as you were hoping it would lessen his concentration towards the works. “What is it?” He replied in his low voice, obviously showing that he was too tired to listen for another joke. “A teacher asked a student ‘What excuse do you have for being late?’ and do you know what the student replied? ‘I ran so fast that I didn’t have time to think of one.” With that, you laughed so loudly at your own dad joke. “Hahaha.” Juyeon simply muttered, totally not interested at all with your joke. That action of his totally made your anger rise. He didn’t have to go that way to reply to you? You let out a frustrating sigh, “Don’t laugh like that if you didn’t mean it at all.” “Then you’re going to be mad if I’m not responding to your joke.”

Now, this totally hit your boiling point. Reaching your feets to the floor, you walked to the desk as you spinned the chair, making the exhausted Juyeon face you with no enthusiasm at all. Sighing while taking off his glasses, he rubbed his eyes with his right index and thumb fingers, “Now what?” “Why are you so kind, hm?” You said in your lowest tone ever, puffing out your lower lips to give sympathy to the elder. Putting on his glasses back and opening his eyes to stare back at you, you shook your head as you sat on his laps without any hesitation. Juyeon seemed to be taken back with your sudden action but he tried his best to get you off from his laps, not wanting to lead this to somewhere else. “No, your princess is lonely and she doesn’t have anyone to interact with.” You were still pouting, running your finger on his favourite plain t-shirt. “Juyeon.. Are you going to be like this? Treating your friend so kind but not with your one and only princess?” You finger now ran up to his collarbone, before locking your eyes with his and taking off the glasses away from him so seductively.

“Now that I take your glasses off.. Is it possible for you to continue doing your assignments? Maybe your eyes should rest and look at something better..” You leaned closer to his face, never breaking the intense eye contact between both of you. The growing figure underneath you seemed to be noticeable, so you tried to get things more interesting. “I will cut some cucumbers for your eyes,” You stood up and pretended to go to the kitchen, but you purposely bounced on his laps, blaming the chair for being too small. “Oops, the chair is too small for both of us to sit together.” You giggled innocently, but the latter wasn’t buying it. As you tried to stand up again, he pulled you back to his laps with his large hands on your hips. His eyes looked so dark and serious, you feel like he was undressing you with his eyes themselves. “Where are you going?” “T-To the kitchen..” His dark voice totally turned you on and you knew that you had awakened the beast inside him. “Don’t you ever dare to go anywhere after messing up things.” He whispered right next to your ear as his hands sneaked inside your shirt, rubbing your sides with his thumbs. “Finish it up,” he left a quick lick on your earlobe before processing it to your neck and collarbone. Biting your lower lips to prevent more sounds coming out, you wrapped your arms around his neck and moved your hips on his laps.

Riding his thick thighs had become a thing to you ever since you dated Juyeon, but the rough texture of his jeans made you feel satisfyingly better than before. Finding it difficult to have your arms around his neck, your hands went to his shoulders, supporting your weight on him. You threw your head to the back, muffled moans starting to get audible around the room as he furrowed his eyebrows, watching your fucked out expression with awe. He began to bounce his leg, making you release a sharp moan and grip on his shoulder so tightly, eyes shut so tightly to show how pleasuring it was. "You look so beautiful with your fucked out face honey." His finger touched your face before gripping your hair into a ponytail and pulled you softly to make you look at him back. "Use my thigh as a dirty slut you are." You let out an embarrassing moan, totally getting turned on with him calling you a slut. You moved your hips more diligently as he helped you reach your climax by bouncing his legs eagerly. Maybe because you were too horny, or the combination of his jeans texture and his bouncing was too good for you to experience that after some hips moving, you cummed on your shorts. "Fuck!" You let out a whine, catching your breath. Juyeon smirked at the sight, wrapping your legs around his waist and brought you to the bed, placing you gently on it. The way your chest moved up and down made him more aroused, as he held your chin and you were forced to gaze at him. "I just made you cum with the time where I was supposed to finish the work.." His eyes slowly observing your body, looking down to your chest before licking his lips, "..And you should know that I have no problem making you cum again with those times."

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starlocked01 · 4 years

Text

Beautiful Mistakes

AO3 @tsshipmonth2020

Masterpost- Previous- Next

Summary- Remy can't think before he has his coffee and that causes problems for him and his soulmate.

A/N- Slightly altered so that the marks disappear a few minutes after they’ve been received.

Day 9 Remile- Whatever you draw on your skin shows up on your soulmate

Emile could feel the slight itch on his cheek that indicated a message from his soulmate had appeared. He flushed with embarrassment but kept his composure. He quickly scrawled on his wrist.

Not now, Rem. I'm with a client.

He turned back to his patients with a smile and his wrist itched as Remy replied.

Oops

"Doc, you okay?"

"My apologies, my soulmate likes to send messages when he wakes up. Except he works… at night," Emile sighed, affectionately yet exasperated.

"Well the flags look cute, I guess as long as you're okay with your patients knowing..." Dot smiled and nodded encouragingly.

Emile paled, "he didn't…"

"I think he did," Larry replied.

Emile put a hand to his cheek, "it's a pride flag isn't it?"

"Oh don't worry, Doc! It's so cute! Larry, isn't it cute?"

"He's going to be rather upset with me. I can't check it, and he's not out at work yet… but enough about me, back to Dorry! Or if you prefer, Larrydot?? " Emile grinned despite the looks of confusion the couple were giving him. His cheek and wrist continued to itch but he insisted on staying focused on the session.

By the time Larry and Dot were leaving, the itching had crawled up his forearm. Remy must be rather upset.

He checked his watch. The next appointment was in 20 minutes. He could take 5 to read through the tirade and would still be able to review notes for the next couple. He rolled up his sleeve to see a block of text that grew more frantic the farther it got up his arm.

Babe check out the drawing!

I worked hard on that girl pls appreciate me

Em i have work in an hour

Look. At. Your. Cheek.

This isn't funny!

Okay it was supposed to be funny but i can't have a gay flag on my face at work they will kill me!!!!

Bitch

You don't love me im gonna die because you don't love me

No one is gonna believe me if i have to lie about this

Please????

>:[

Emile chuckled and wrote back quickly.

This is your fault for drawing on your cheek. You know I work and can't check messages right away.

He checked the time again and pulled out his phone, opening the camera app. He admired the little gay flag crossed with a pan flag. He took a quick selfie to preserve the drawing on his phone. It really was sweet, if unfortunately timed. Luckily, most of his clients would be fairly understanding. Remy's coworkers on the other hand would not.

The tirade on his arm had faded and been replaced with a new line from Remy.

Don't judge me I didn't have my coffee yet girl

Emile chuckled and pulled his sleeve back down, finding the file and notes he had for the next couple's session.

Remy sat in his car, obsessively checking the mirror until the flags on his cheek faded away. The last thing he needed was to get outed by a soul mark. He was usually late anyway because of the line at Starbucks, what harm would one more day do?

A lot of harm, apparently.

His boss was waiting by the loading dock, impatiently tapping his foot as Remy strolled up.

"'Sup? What are we-"

"Don't even bother clocking in. You don't do shit here and this is the fifth time you've been late this month. You're done."

Remy sputtered, "this is homophobic!"

His boss stared hard at him, eyes narrowing, "You're lazy and you're gay? You're FIRED!"

"Whatever! Your loss, you prick!" Remy turned and flipped the man off as he walked back to his car. He got in and locked the doors, taking some deep breaths. He considered writing to Emile, but decided this was probably an in-person topic.

He restarted the car and drove home, mentally preparing for a lot of explaining.

Emile was surprised to see Remy's car in the driveway when he got home and more than a little concerned. He parked and hurried inside. He found his soulmate sitting in the dark, sipping coffee, and scrolling instagram.

"Remy? Are you okay?"

"Got fired."

"Oh my stars! What happened?"

Remy gave an exasperated sigh, "he didn't like me being late. He also blamed me being gay so idk maybe there's a lawsuit there."

"Was it because of the flags? I tried to check as soon as possible…"

"No… I'm usually late anyway," Remy sank deeper into the couch and Emile moved to sit down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe it was time for a career change. You can find somewhere more accepting with less crazy hours."

"Maybe I'll become a stripper. They make good money right?" Remy mused, leaning into Emile’s side. The other man wrapped him in a one armed hug.

"While I am sure you'd be a natural, I'd be very concerned for your safety as a sex worker, dear. What about something you're passionate about?" Emile tried to be encouraging, numbers running through his head calculating exactly how long they could live off a single salary.

The outlook was not super promising.

"Don't worry, babe, I'll do some research tonight and fill out some applications. Promise," Remy gave Emile a smile that was skin deep, "what do you want for dinner? I'm starving."

After a week of Remy submitting applications and hearing nothing back, Emile was about ready to suggest the exotic dancer route himself. It wasn't that they were under financial stress (yet), moreso that Remy was a lot more rambunctious being cooped at home during the night. He kept waking Emile up too early and the loss of sleep was starting to affect his clients.

"Hey Doc? You're kinda unusually quiet today…"

Emile shook himself back to alertness, "sorry about that Elliott, where were we?"

"Um," they tapped their fingers together while thinking, "I think I was talking about how my soulmate never writes back. They check every message but I never get any from them. It doesn't… feel good."

"Remember what we've said before, Elliott, your worth isn't based on your soulmate. Whatever reason they choose not to write back, the fact of the matter is that you're still an amazing and powerful person in your own right."

Emile was interrupted by an itching on his wrist. Remy would usually still be asleep by now it was late enough in the morning.

He resisted the urge to check the mark as he spoke with Elliott and he could feel the itch crawling up his arm.

After the session, Emile quickly pulled up his sleeve, praying for good news.

I GOT IT!!!

Finally got an interview for tomorrow!!

<3 <3 <3

There were several more hearts and Emile allowed himself a small smile of relief. He doodled back a heart or two for Remy before returning his focus back to work.

They could celebrate when that interview turned into a position.

He greeted the next couple with a broader smile and a tad more exuberance, much to their dismay.

Remy was nervous. This job sounded too good to be true and they'd practically hired him on the spot. He wasn't about to let his soulmate down though.

He followed the man down the hall, sipping his tea for comfort.

"Honestly just don't let anyone eat anything inedible or hit each other and you'll do great," the man smiled, showing Remy into a room with a dozen kids and two other frazzled looking adults.

Piece of cake right?

Emile was in the middle of a session when he felt the itch on his cheek. He tried to smile through it, but then he felt more itches on his legs and arms and nose. His clients were too preoccupied actually talking through their issue with each other so Emile checked his arm to find a rainbow of scribbles that kept growing.

He put a hand to his face to cover his nose and cheek. What had Remy gotten himself into?

Pretty soon his clients were used to seeing Emile with colorful marks all over his face. He explained that his soulmate worked with kids and almost everyone nodded knowingly. He did ask that if they ever saw an inappropriate drawing they let him know so he could check it right away.

Some days he would draw little cartoons for the kids to fill in. They loved that and he always sent them little hearts back when they did a good job (they always did a good job).

And most importantly, Remy was having a great time with his job and got to be home at nights, so they saw each other a lot more often. They both enjoyed that.

#tsshipmonth2020 #Soulmate September 2020 #writing on skin #cussing #remile #remy sleep #emile picani #larry and dot #elliott #homophobia #soulmate au

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jincherie · 5 years

Text

fox rain | four

• ☽ — pairing: bts x reader • ☽ — genre: crack, fluff, angst, college/uni au • ☽ — words: 13.9k+ • ☽ — rating: sfw • ☽ — warnings: stop one on the angst train express!!! conflict, crying, hurt feelings and perhaps a little bit of a complex... also someone gets slapped (rightfully). what a chapter! • ☽ — notes: two months late LETS GET IT FOOOXXX RRAAAIIINNN !!! this shit HURTED. for maximum owies, I advise reading a particular intermission before this one uwu

— posted; 08.09.2019

When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

— • masterpost | prev. | four | next • —

Never in your life, have you ever truly entertained the thought of killing someone before now.

As though your stormy mood is a thick fog permeating the air and rendering it unbreathable, the students moving past you in the hall hasten to give you a wide berth. You’d appreciate it, if you weren’t so caught up in your half-baked murder plans that you didn’t even notice.

You’re a nice enough person, right? You’ve never gone out of your way to be mean, or bullied anyone—hell, sometimes you feel so bad about the current state of the earth that you walk around the park looking for litter to pick up. Being the stellar example to humanity that you are, you’ve managed to steer clear of—for the most part, also not counting these very stressful past few weeks—drama. In high school you managed to dodge the drama entailed by school dances, juvenile love triangles, and pretty much anything pubescent you can think of. You did your own thing, and generally most people took enough pity on your poor excuse of an existence that they became oddly endeared and protective of you, like they were adopting a small alien ball of slime that fell from the heavens and wheezed painfully with each breath. You’ve never had to face the cold, agonizing frostbite of betrayal, and you didn’t really ever expect to.

But now for the first time ever you have, and god does it suck. You woke up this morning like you had a hangover, head throbbing as though an iron ball was rolling from one side of your skull to the other in uneven laps, and your eyes were somehow a combination of dry and tight, swollen and moist— admittedly, you still kind of feel like that to a degree. You woke up sad, and angry and hurt, but thankfully Karma isn’t one to leave you stewing in any one emotion too long. What a benevolent queen you find yourself ruled by.

As soon as you settled down this morning with your flavoured coffee (the last sachet from your “depression days” emergency stash on the top shelf of the cupboard—you feel as though with all you’ve been through, you deserve it) and opened your phone like a fool to pass the time while your waffle (another comfort food from your stash) cooked in the kitchen, you were met with a very sudden and very stark change in emotional stasis. No longer were you a moody, depressed and sad sack of mouldy mashed potato—now you were a fucking livid sack of mouldy, mashed potato, who nearly snapped her fork in half from the sheer strength of her tight grip.

After all you’d learnt of Sera the afternoon previous, you shouldn’t have been as surprised to wake up to what you did. And yet, the second you laid eyes on that damn post it had taken you so off guard you’d nearly flown into a blind rage on the spot.

The gall, the absolute audacity of her to plead and proclaim that she was going to “fix this”, only to turn around and plunge another knife into your back by publicly announcing on the university forum she used to start all this that she is the author. This entire ordeal was already such a convoluted mess that even before this, she never could have truly fixed it—but she could have lessened it, made it more bearable. Yet she didn’t. And with her blatant choice to not only do the opposite but essentially plagiarise your damn poem and steal your unwanted, unintentional fame—you’ve never been so fucking furious in your life.

You’ve never considered murder before now either but you have to admit, the further onto campus you get and the more whispering and gossiping you catch about the “development” in the mystery moon poem drama, the more appealing it seems.

All day, you have put up with this shit. All day, as you sit through class and then move from one session to another, you have heard people gasp and chatter and rant and rave about how Sera is the supposed author to the poem. You’ve heard them wax poetic about her and her “skills” that she doesn’t deserve and aren’t really for her, flattering comments about her ‘humble’, ‘sweet’, ‘sensitive soul’ character that you now know couldn’t be further from the truth. The combination of her betrayal and the injustice of the situation as you now find yourself in it are almost enough to break you into a soggy, emotional mess, but it seems the pure, unadulterated rage will be enough to feed your fire and keep you going for now.

You’ve been in such a state all day that you can hardly remember what it was like before you were angry. Depression? What depression? You’ve never heard of her. This must be what it feels like to be an Aries, you think. You almost feel invincible, and would if it weren’t for the looming cloud above you that rained angry droplets on your parade.

By the time you drag yourself through the day and your first tutoring session arrives, you feel a strange combination of emotionally exhausted and absolutely fucking wired. You’re still seething, of course, but it’s less of an in-your-face anger and more of a crazed undertone at this point. You attempt a smile when you enter the library and see Hoseok, but you mustn’t be very close to achieving it because a brief expression of fear flits across his features and he straightens in his seat. Oops, you forgot Hoseok is a scaredy cat. It seems you’ve accidentally activated his deeply ingrained and well-exercised fight or flight response.

“H-hey, y/n…. are you okay?” His concern for your wellbeing has seemed to override his initial fear response, and you feel a little touched amongst the angry bubbling of your insides. You try again to flash a smile, and this one appears to be a closer approximation than the last as some of the tension leaves Hoseok’s form.

“It’s a lovely day,” you say, fighting a twitch that’s trying to make itself known in your left eye. “But enough about that, let’s talk about you. What are we going over today?”

Hoseok is hesitant, pausing a moment as his eyes survey your seated form like he’s assessing whether it’s worth it to probe a little more. He seems to reach a decision and turns to his bag, pulling out his things. They hit the table with a tentative thunk, even the sound seeming cautious. He is treating you like a bomb that could go off at any moment and to be honest… you can’t blame him.

“I need your help brainstorming for a project that’s due in a few weeks,” he says, most of the fear having left his voice. “But I was wondering if we could practice essay writing some more, maybe timed? One of my exams is an essay.”

You wince for him, but nod and reach for your phone, unlocking it carelessly and trying to shove down the hot spark of anger that ignites down your spine at the post being the last thing you were looking at. With a little more anger than necessary, you flick that screen away and pull up the timer app. “Yeah, we can do that. We’ll split the session in half, I’ll start the timer.”

When you turn back to Hoseok, his gaze is on your phone as his brows draw together in a pensive sort of expression. Something you can’t decipher washes over his face in the next second, his eyes flitting to you and then to your phone before he’s sitting back, covering his momentary lapse with a bright smile. You’re a little bit suspicious but not bothered enough to really be wondering about whatever is going through his head.

You start the session, and given how previous ones have gone you’re kind of expecting him to fall into the same serious, broody mood as he has been. To your complete and utter surprise, however, Hoseok begins acting in his usual dumbass antics right off the bat. He’s more animated than you’ve seen him in weeks, making weird Hoseok Noises™ and laughing loudly, even poking you playfully every now and then.

You still feel a little stormy, but the longer the session goes on the more he has a smile fighting to be set free. It’s Hoseok, so of course that resistance doesn’t last long. By the time his session is drawing to a close he has you chuckling, a small smile on your face. He appears accomplished, grinning brightly himself before he catches sight of the time and it falters slightly. You wonder what could have incurred such a reaction before the realisation smacks you and suddenly the inklings of sunlight peeking through the clouds above your head are swallowed up again. Right, the whole thing with Jimin.

With the events of yesterday and this morning still fresh in your mind, the slight parallel hits a little closer to home than you’d like.

You don’t have to wonder if Hoseok has noticed the backtrack in your mood, because the expression of slight regret playing across his features tells you he has. He gives you a somewhat strained smile as he hastens to pack his things away, almost hesitating once done as though he wants to stay despite a deeper desire to avoid Jimin.

“I’m gonna head now, avoid some of the traffic on the way home,” he rambles, seemingly torn between meeting your eyes so he can smile and avoiding them since he’s fibbing and he knows you know. You squint at him.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Wouldn’t want you stuck in traffic,” you say, staring him dead in the eyes. “You live so far away after all.”

He lets out a nervous-sounding laugh, most likely at the way you’re looking at him, and slings his overstuffed bag over his shoulder. “Ahah… yeah.”

He lives about ten minutes away, the little turd.

You roll your eyes, giving the boy a brief smile. “See you on Friday, Hoseok.”

Somewhat relieved you’re not too mad, Hoseok grins and salutes, returning the sentiment before he’s hightailing it out of there faster than you can say “emotional constipation”. Well, now that you’re left to your own devices for the next eight or so minutes, you’re not really sure what to do. For a moment you sit there, staring in a somewhat disassociating manner at the dark, matte grey surface of the library table. It’s a little quieter than usual this afternoon, and it really allows you to zone out more.

You don’t really want to look at your phone, lest it appear like a request for more suffering to the powers that be. The last thing you want is them thinking you’re hungry for more shitty luck and going out of their way to give you more. So with your phone out of the question, you’re left with nothing to do for the next few minutes except sit and stare at nothing, and maybe transcend the mortal plane a bit while you’re at it. Which is what you do, and do so thoroughly that when a voice sounds next to you, you nearly scream and shit yourself.

“Uh, excuse me…”

“HOLYFUCK!” A strangled noise escapes you, body spinning to face whoever almost scared you to death. “DUDE, you can’t just—oh, hey Jungkook.”

The tall boy flushes as your face softens upon seeing him, the anger that resulted from your scare quickly fizzling away. Jungkook has a face that you’ve always found impossible to be angry at. It feels like being angry at a baby, or a puppy, or a little sugar glider with their big ol’ eyes and tiny paws. You just… can’t do it. You’re lucky he’s not aware of his power or else, like any other bastard adolescent male, he might use it to get up to no good.

“Oh, sorry! Sorry—I didn’t mean to scare you, I- I just saw this on the ground and came to give it to you. I think… I think one of you dropped it. I don’t know if it was you or Hoseok.” Jungkook does his best to meet your eyes, voice soft as he stumbles ever so slightly over his words. He can’t manage to hold your gaze for long however, before his is flying away and straying to the floor, and the ceiling, anywhere but you really. One of his hands rises to sweep through his long, inky curls and rub the back of his neck, the other occupied with gripping a notebook by his side.

You examine the object a little closer, quickly coming to the conclusion you’ve never seen it before in your life. “I don’t recognise it. Could be Hoseok’s though. I’ll keep it for him in case it is his. Thank you, Jungkook.”

The male freezes, completely disarmed for a moment as you flash him a grateful smile. He is so completely still in the seconds following that you can’t help but worry—did you look so bad just then that you shocked him into a coma? Do you have a pimple you don’t know about, glaring at him from somewhere humiliatingly obvious on your face? Is there something in your teeth??

"O-oh," Jungkook clears his throat, blinking twice and then giving his head a little shake as though to clear it. "It's no— It's no problem! I mean I kind of work here so... it would be irresponsible of me to leave it? I mean, not that I would, I—"

You can't help the brief chuckle that wrestles its way from your chest to escape unbidden, your hands reaching to take the notebook that he'd begun holding out for you not long after he started talking. In the process your fingertips brush his own and Jungkook lets out a sound that rings suspiciously like a squeak, hands yanking back so suddenly you almost drop the book before you can adjust your own grasp.

"Oop," he says, the tips of his ears beginning to glow pink beneath the tan of his skin. "Sorry, your next session is probably about to start. I'll leave you be."

Then, as abruptly as he'd arrived, he departs— for a second your wired brain almost tricks you into seeing a cloud of dust form behind him from how fast he flees, reminiscent of the cartoon characters from your childhood.

Well, certainly not the strangest interaction you’ve ever had with Jungkook.

Blinking, you adjust your grip on the book, fingers feeling like they’re slipping against the back for a moment before they finally stop sliding and the notebook remains firm in your hold. Weird, you think, but quickly dismiss it as nothing more than sweaty butterfingers—something you’re prone to getting when stressed. Which, lately, seems to be all the damn time.

You slip the book into your bag, setting a mental reminder to bring it next time you have a session with Hoseok so that you can ask if it’s his. You don’t actually remember what his notebooks look like (you’ve never really made it a point to burn them into your memory) so there’s a fair chance it could be his. In which case, you’re going to make fun of him for being a dumb doo-doo and dropping his book without even realising.

Considering Hoseok left before his session could even end, you were kind of expecting at least a few minutes of peace to yourself where you sit and dissociate by staring at the table again. You’re mistaken however, it seems, and you barely get to blink before there is a familiar set of footsteps making their way to your table and the subsequent light, melodic voice that sounds as they announce themselves loudly and clearly, as they usually do.

“y/n! Honey, I’m here!”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. He seems to be in a good mood. May the lord give you strength.

Jimin’s footfalls change and you look up just in time to catch him begin skipping over to where you’re seated at the table, arms swinging and a bright grin overtaking his face, almost making his eyes disappear. You stare at him, caught off-guard by his sudden sunny disposition (the past few sessions haven’t been awesome to him, after all), but he doesn’t stop grinning at you the whole way over. You think you catch Jungkook giving him a dubious look from the front desk, but can’t be sure before Jimin is right in front of you and blocking your view of anything else with his midsection.

“Hi y/n!” he greets again, body swaying slightly where he stands before he slings his bag off and moves to plop in the chair. “Isn’t it such a lovely day tod—oh? Oh!”

Torn from your inner musings of whether or not you should be concerned at Jimin’s sudden mood shift, your eyes whip to his hand where it’s reaching for the chair seat, plucking something from the surface before he suddenly turns and flops down as originally intended.

Jimin’s face has morphed into a picturesque expression of curiosity as he holds up what was between him and his seat; a piece of paper, barely a slip, folded neatly in half. The nosy male is quick to open it, clearly enunciating the words that are apparently scrawled across the inside.

“’You look pretty today’… Aw, y/n, you shouldn’t have !”

You roll your eyes so hard you almost feel the nerve pinch inside your skull. Jimin, of course, knows that you didn’t leave the note for him, but apparently today is one of the days he delights in your suffering.

You almost contemplate the effort of giving a response before realising that you don’t even need one; the male has quickly lost interest in the paper, leaving it discarded on the table top, and is now staring somewhat wistfully out the window with a slightly dazed grin. Okay, what? When he’d first rocked up, he seemed like he was buzzed and brighter than the sun, in one of those energetic top-of-the-world moods. Now… you’re rethinking that observation. If anything, he seems a little distracted.

And as your session with Jimin begins and proceeds, you quickly realise just how true this is.

Initially, you’d been slightly worried about Jimin rocking up with the same knowledge everyone else on this damn campus no doubt possesses after this morning. However, the further into the session you get, the more it becomes apparent that he’s far too off in space to have picked up anything like that. Not to mention, the more you think about it, the more you realise that you’re not even sure if Jimin even goes here. So would he know about all the latest campus gossip and drama? He is friends with Taehyung…

Ultimately you’re unsure, but cautiously optimistic that Jimin hasn’t seen anything to do with the poem or the post that was released this morning. You also figure that, given how distracted he currently is, he probably wouldn’t have had a chance to pick up on the gossip running through the halls anyway— you’re glad that you don’t have to worry about Jimin pitching in his two cents as to who the author is, but honestly? A small part of you kind of wishes that he knew, if only so you could see who he supported in this scenario, like whether he would defend your honour or whether he would betray you and stomp all over your friendship garden by falling for Sera's propaganda.

You suppose there's no way to know, since you're definitely not going to inform him about everything just to find out. No, this peace and calm that comes from how simply detached he feels from the current messy climate of your life is nice and you don't really want to throw that away just yet. For now, you're content to just sit and let it be. It's actually helping a little more of your anger fizzle out, so that's a definitely plus as well.

Content as you may be to let Jimin stay oblivious and wrapped up in his own little world as he currently is, you can't help but wonder what on earth has him so out of it in the first place. You don't think you've ever seen him like this, all spacey and distracted, dreamy smiles sent into the air where his eyes stare, half-lidded and dazed. You'd almost worry he's high on something were it not the brief moments of clarity where he checks back in to be a little shit and tease you.

Today's session for Jimin consists of a few worksheets he's brought for you to assist him with— two of which are similar enough and the third nothing to do with the others— and you do your best to guide him through them. Usually Jimin isn't that hard to tutor. You figured out early on that he's motivated by positive reinforcement more than anything else, and praise is what tickles him most. With this little hack up your sleeve, you never usually have an issue with guiding him along in sessions. Today, however, not even praise seems to be enough to bring him back to the present long enough to pay attention and actually make a dent in the work.

You like to think you're a pretty patient person, but even you have limits and they're reached about two thirds of the way into the session when Jimin gets distracted once more mid-sentence and leaves you sitting in place waiting for him, for a solid three or so minutes.

"Hey, Park," you bark sharply, hoping that if you sound enough like Hoseok then maybe it will startle him fully out of his reverie. "What's going on with you today? What the hell has you so distracted?"

Jimin jumps in his seat at your sudden tone, and turns to you now with wide eyes. It takes a moment for your words to sink in through the shock, but as soon as they register he sags in his seat and the tension leaves his form. His eyes flick to the right, a shy, lazy smile tugging his lips as his thoughts clearly go somewhere else. Seriously? Just how easily distracted is he right now? You only just got his attention, for crying out loud!

Just when you feel about ready to reach over and strangle an answer out of him, the crimson-haired male speaks and halts your violent thoughts in place.

"It's, um..." Jimin rakes his teeth over his bottom lip, using both hands to fiddle with his decorative ice-cream pen, a sundae with chocolate and cherries sitting cutely on the end. "Say, do you..."

Great, you can't help but think, looks like you're in this for the long haul.

"Do I...?" you prompt him, when you decide he's dawdled long enough in giving you an answer.

"Do you... you know... uh." Jimin rakes a hand through his hair, a button on the sleeve of his light denim jacket almost catching on the strands. He pauses, taking a deep breath, and then turns to meet your eyes— wait, is he blushing? "y/n... you know Lee Sera, right?"

Your entire brain seems to halt, the tip of your pen hitting the tabletop despondently. There's something funny about the way he looks right now, something odd and niggling at the back of your mind, but you can't quite place it because you're sitting there with a mild case of whiplash. What. "What?"

Jimin lets out a noise that is somewhere between a chuckle and a giggle, and shifts his gaze down to the paper on the table before him. Fiddling with the ice-cream pen once more, he bites his lip to hide a shy smile— oh, you realise what it is now. He looks like a school girl talking about her crush.

Two beats pass before that thought really sinks in —oh. no— and it's just in time for Jimin's continuation to sucker punch you in the face.

"Do you know if she... likes anyone?"

You blink. Once. Twice. Your brain decides to pitch in, the words mere millimetres from your lips, 'Give me one reason why I shouldn't just kill you right now—'

You just barely hold the words back. The noise you make instead doesn't really sound human, nor does it constitute an actual response of any sort, yet it's all the male gets and still, he's not deterred. It's as though he hasn't noticed the steam currently beginning to spill from the surface of your head, coiling tendrils betraying your current fuming state. What kind of cruel injustice is this? No, you almost want to plead to the heavens and appeal the cruelty currently taking place on this earth— please no.

“Y-you’re asking me if… if she…” You can’t seem to get the words out, the sounds choking in your throat. Jimin does seem to notice this, taking a moment to send you a somewhat concerned expression. It’s brief, though, and he’s soon off in his thoughts once again.

“Yeah,” he says, appearing bashful for a moment. “Although, that’s kind of silly of me, isn’t it. I mean, it’s Sera. Of course she has someone special, right?”

For one thing, you’re wondering just how you’ve managed to get this far in your tutoring sessions without finding out about Jimin’s evident crush on your ex-best friend. Like, is this a recent thing? Or is it more of a slow-burn, consistent for a long period of time thing? And on the other hand, given the context of the situation (despite full details being privy only to you), you can’t help but marvel at Jimin’s apparent poor taste in suitors.

Really, of all the people he could happen to have a crush on, it has to be her?!

“Nggh…” you choke down the words that attempt to rise to your lips, suddenly very uncomfortable in your seat. A barrage of thoughts rain upon your brain, overloading your mind.

Does he know? Does he know about the whole mystery poem ordeal that has so far worked to ruin your life in more than one way? Has he seen the posts? Especially the one that Sera made this morning? It’s hard to pinpoint, but when Jimin doesn’t elaborate further and simply resorts to doodling on his paper as he disappears with the fairies once more, you muse that maybe he hasn’t. If he’d seen it, surely he’d be mentioning it as he spoke of her? Bitterly, you recall that no one today could seem to pass up the opportunity to praise her with every fibre of their being. Just the memory makes hot flames of anger lick at your chest, and you do your best to cool them before Jimin picks up on the Big Kill Energy beginning to emanate from your general direction.

Somewhat thankfully, it’s at this moment that the timer on your phone goes off, signifying the end of the session. A long breath of relief escapes you as you reach for the device, sliding your thumb across the screen to dismiss the timer. The sound seems to have brought Jimin back to the present too, as he’s begun packing away his things in an indolent manner, humming softly to himself. He pulls his phone out, skimming through his feed distractedly as he does so. You decide you may as well do the same, beginning to pack up while he does. There’s no rush, so you actually take your time packing your things away instead of hastily cramming them all in your backpack at once like you usually are inclined to do.

You almost zone out yourself before a sharp gasp breaks you from whatever reverie you were about to get stuck in. Your eyes whip up to Jimin and, immediately after seeing the expression on his face, a feeling of dread begins to creep into your gut.

“Oh my god…” he murmurs, hushed, eyes wide and glued to the screen of his phone. A beat passes before he scrambles to take it into his hold, ring-adorned finger whipping across the screen as he rapidly reads whatever is on there. You don’t like the way he seems to glow with each moment more that passes.

“y/n!” he exclaims very suddenly and very, very loudly. You jump in a combination of fright and tension. “y/n! She— she’s—!”

Oh, god. You wish you could sink into the earth and never resurface. He’s seen it.

Cramming the last few items in your bag, you make use of the fact that Jimin is still staring at his phone and pretend that you don’t hear him, rising from your chair and beginning to walk towards the library doors. Jimin scrambles to his feet, following after you like a puppy, or a child wishing to show their parent something important. “y/n!”

“Hm?” You throw the noise over your shoulder half-heartedly, looking hastily for the best escape route that Jimin isn’t likely to follow you down. Unfortunately this isn’t downtown, this is the second-biggest library on your campus, and there is nowhere you can go that Jimin wouldn’t be able to follow you.

“I— y/n! Do you know that whole mystery poem author thing? I heard something about it a while ago but I just— I only just read about it and! y/n!” Jimin reaches out to grasp you by the sleeve, effectively halting you for a moment. “It’s just been found that Lee Sera is the author!”

Lord give you strength, you absolutely want to die.

“O-oh?” The utterance is literally ground through your teeth, but Jimin seems to be in such a state of euphoria that he doesn’t even notice. Of course.

“I mean, this is such a shock but… I’m not surprised.” The male is positively beaming with pride, looking down at his phone fondly. You think you’re going to be sick. “She’s amazing, isn’t she? And she’s so humble to have kept quiet about the whole thing, too. Wah, she’s so….”

You don’t know whether you’re going to implode from anger or frustration, or maybe a dangerous cocktail of both. It’s as though there are live wires beneath your skin, nerves abuzz and wrought with the urge to strangle someone (preferably a certain someone) or hit something (preferably your head, against a desk).

“She sure is something,” you say, the toothy smile you slap on completely juxtaposing the bitter note to your voice. Jimin again, bless him, completely misses it.

You’re so close to the doors, but not close enough. Please… you just want to go home and angry cry into your pillow.

“I never really paid it much attention, but now that I’m rereading the poem… she’s so talented,” Jimin’s tone is full of awe, and you know that you felt murderous this morning but now you feel that and incredibly done. When will karma finish rawing you? Have you not suffered enough? Was everyday living not torture enough? Jimin’s lovestruck babbling stops for no man, “It’s no wonder it blew up so much, she’s such a gifted—”

“Who’s such a gifted what?”

You jump slightly at the sound of a new voice, eyes whipping over to catch sight of Kim Taehyung as he slips into the library through the widening gap in the doors and makes his way over. It seems he’s donned a loose white shirt and black pants ensemble today, something you notice because of the way they flow as he walks. His question was directed at Jimin, but his eyes seem to be surveying your expression to get a read on the situation.

Regrettably, you can feel that the face you’re currently pulling… really isn’t a good one.

The second he sees him, Jimin changes targets and latches onto his friend’s arm instead. “Tae! The author of that poem you’re always raging about—oofft—”

You don’t quite catch it, but you swear you glimpse Taehyung— whose cheeks seem to have taken on a flushed tone— deliver a powerful elbow to Jimin’s ribs, who grunts but nonetheless continues, undeterred. You’ve really gotta give him points for his determination and perseverance at this stage.

“The author of the poem, it’s Lee Sera! I know I always ignored you when you talked about it, but now that I think about it, it makes so much sense!” Jimin’s gushing again, and you really think you might be sick sometime soon. Is it possible to be so angry that you become nauseous? You suppose you’re about to find out. “She’s one of the best in her class, isn’t she? Of course she’s able to make such a beautiful poem that goes viral the second it’s released— it’s her!”

Taehyung’s eyes had been trained upon Jimin the whole time he spoke, but now they’re sweeping to you and for some reason, you find yourself freezing in place under their weight. The dark cocoa of his iris’ swim with something indecipherable, a curious tilt to the corner of his heart-shaped mouth. It’s as though he’s watching for your reaction to something. His gaze doesn’t leave you for the entire moment that he answers his friend, “Uh huh. Is that so?”

You’re unnerved— or maybe it’s just a very sudden, very potent overload of your senses. You’re angry, you’re upset and hurt; you’re frustrated now more than ever at the injustice of the situation and how much of an absolutely helpless position you have found yourself in. You want to leave, and you know that if you don’t soon, you’re probably going to start angry crying in the middle of the library and that is a mess you absolutely do not want to experience handling. Besides, you don’t think poor Jungkook at the reception is really equipped to handle those sorts of breakdowns. You really wouldn’t want to put him through it either.

“Right, well I really have to go. I have a bunch of readings to do, so… better get started on those,” you announce loudly, cutting Jimin off before he can start again and drive you any further towards insanity than he already has. “Finish those sheets, Jimin. Don’t make me chase you up.”

Jimin whips his hand to his forehead in a salute, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. Already turning on your heel, you make your escape while you can and wave goodbye. “Okay, see you! Have fun doing whatever it is you’re about to do!”

And then you absolutely yeet yourself out the library doors and all but bolt home.

Alright. You have a date with your pillow and some tears, and you’re not about to miss it. May the gods of fortune guide you home without anymore incidents that make you want to slam your head against a brick wall, please and thank you.

x x x x

“— I just, sort of like, you know, write whatever comes to my head. Like, whatever I feel comes from the heart—”

She follows you like the plague, bits and pieces of her and oh-so-casual reminders that she exists and is tormenting you, everywhere you go, and it takes every inch of your willpower to block her out and keep walking as you have every other time you encountered her preaching to admirers in the public spaces you frequent on campus. Sometimes Sera sees you, and you think that if she weren’t surrounded by half a hundred people sucking her toes then she might chase after you. You’ve been screening her calls, after all, and there have been a lot of them.

You regret to say, that in the days following that cursed announcement, things don’t begin to die down nearly as much as you hope they would. People are still talking, still whispering about it, and instead of it becoming old news it’s as though instead it’s a rampant forest fire, feeding ravenously on the hot gossip passed between peers at brunch, posts typed out meticulously on various media and dramatic recounts told by the friends of those that, wisely, seem to live under a rock.

You, of course, couldn’t be any less pleased with how the situation is panning out.

Your hot, scalding, unadulterated cauldron of bubbling rage has since settled down to a reluctant simmer. This is partly because you realised it is kind of unhealthy to be that angry so constantly, and partly because you’re not a fan of the constipation that results from being so tense with anger. You lose some, you lose some, you suppose. It’s lose-lose these days, babey!

The climate at university isn’t looking good for you, and each day passes with great testament to your willpower and determination not to purchase an automated vehicle and run yourself over. You still go to classes, and attend even the stupidest of lectures and tutorials (you’ve had to suffer through experiencing Seokjin more often than you’d like, but he seems to have toned himself down a little the past few times you’ve seen him— perhaps he’s caught wind of that [redacted] post and actually feels sorry for you?... No, he’s probably just got the flu and doesn’t want to use his voice up to torment you all at once). To be honest, you even kind of forgot about Jimin and his apparent crush for a while— probably would have continued forgetting if it weren’t for your sudden recollection approximately three minutes before his session on Friday.

With Hoseok gone, early as usual these days, you’re left to stew in your own thoughts and it’s barely a few minutes into dissociating that you remember Jimin’s last session and the knowledge that unfolded towards the end of it.

True to your luck and arguably a few minutes early to being right on time, you hear Jimin’s patent patter of footsteps and fight the urge to sink in your seat. You really need to get it together because this is ridiculous, you’re not prepared for anything and everything is out to ruin your day one way or another. You’re well on your way to crashing and burning in some sort of way but you still have no idea when exactly it’s gonna go down. An absolute travesty. You’re a mess waiting to get even messier at barely a moment’s notice.

“Afternoon, y/n!” Jimin crows in greeting as he nears you, a skip in his step and three books in his arms on topics that have absolutely nothing to do with each other. Does he even go here? You really wonder sometimes. “The sun says hello!”

You’re unsure whether he’s referring to himself, or the fact that the sun has indeed just peeked out from behind the clouds that have obscured it since early this morning, but either way the best you can manage is a strained smile in returned greeting. You can’t really bring yourself to look at him the same. Have you lost respect for Jimin after finding out that he has a massive crush on Sera, the person single-handedly responsible for ruining your life the most it has ever been ruined before and then going to ruin it further after you confronted her about it? Absolutely. Can you tell him without sounding like an absolute asshole because evidently to everyone but you Sera has managed to keep up a stellar appearance and benevolent persona? No, no you cannot and it’s probably going to end up making you drink questionable fluids later.

Somewhat stupidly optimistic, a small part of you hopes that maybe it was a brief crush, a spur of the moment affection erection, and that this Jimin in front of you now has realised the error of his ways and has moved on from this blight in his romantic record.

Of course, this is not to be, and the second there’s a lull in conversation after he’s begun working on the task you set him, he begins chattering away as he scribbles his half-hearted answers on the paper. If he starts dotting his I’s with hearts, you really might k-word yourself.

The topic of his vocal musings is, of course, one Lee Sera. You manage to sit there as he waxes the usual poetic, the stuff you heard last session and the things you’ve heard floating in the halls, with minimal incidence. While he’s talking about Sera, you’re constructing a little zen garden in the depths of your mind and it’s taking all of your brain power. Well, almost all of it— you do catch one little tidbit that makes you halt in your mental raking of sand.

“-- and I mean, I know it’s dumb, but I just can’t stop thinking about all those conspiracy posts on the forum, and, like… well, now they know who the author is, but they haven’t discovered the muse, you know? So like…”

The implication of his words hits you like a freight train, and the anger sizzling in your abdomen cooling suddenly into an odd sense of dread. Oh, oh no.

“I don’t think it is, but what if it really is me she wrote it about…?”

It seems, that Jimin— bless his pure, naive heart— has begun to hope. Learning that “Sera” is the author of a poem he’s suspected to be starred in seems to have crumbled the floodgate keeping the bulk of his feelings at bay. As he continues to mutter and ramble, pausing in his writing every so often to doodle a heart, or a tree with a heart and initials on it, you realise just how deep he seems to be in this little infatuation.

The very prospect of there being a chance his feelings aren’t unrequited? He can’t help but cling to it, and the more you hear tumble from his mouth the more you realise this tomato-haired crackhead is actually a hopeless romantic, and literally cannot stop himself from hoping, from feeding that fantasy he has.

Sitting there and listening to him, as the person knowing who the poem is really about and where Sera’s fixation doesn’t lie, you begin to feel a little guilty. You can’t tell him, can’t inform him of the reality because it would compromise you— not only that, he’s so taken with Sera and caught up in the romantic glow of the situation as he sees it that you doubt he’d believe you. That saddens you a little, that realisation. You’ve been friends with Jimin for months now, you’ve tutored him and even had a few impromptu therapy sessions when he rocks up a mess; but not once have you ever seen him or Sera so much as glance at each other, not once has his name passed her lips, and yet… if you were to confess to him, right here and right now, that you are the real author of the poem… would he believe you?

A part of you suspects the answer, and it makes your heart sink.

You can’t bring yourself to say anything to him. The rest of his session is spent stewing internally in your own perplexing cocktail of guilt and hurt, and you realise only as it ends and you watch him leave through the door that you never even had a chance to convince him that he’s not the muse. It feels cruel, thinking of doing such a thing when you now know how attached he is to the possibility of being the muse with Sera as the author. It would be an awful thing for you to do, to stomp on the morsels of hope that have bloomed within him for his crush. But it doesn’t change the fact that you are the original author, and you know who the poem was really written about— is it not the morally right thing to do, to tell him the truth?

Do you protect his feelings, or do you hurt them for a greater good?

You don’t know which is the right thing to do in this situation, and when you eventually pack your things up and exit the library, it’s with a sick feeling in your stomach and a foreboding tingling of your sixth sense that tells you this… isn’t going to end well.

x x x x x x

VVVVVBBT. VVVVVVVBT. VVVVVVVBT. VVVVVBT.

It seems to take longer for the ringing to end this time, you note, as you somewhat despondently watch the phone vibrate and move across the table slightly from the force of it. Then again, it could just be the thousands of calls you’ve screened over the weekend that have you feeling so weary. Most would get the message that your continued silence and refusal to answer indicate, but apparently not Sera. You’ve always known she’s stubborn, and determined, but this is borderline crazy and you’re having trouble wrapping your head around the emergence of all these facets you never knew about or even noticed before now.

The weekend just gone, the two days that are meant to be your one time of reprieve and sanctuary from the messy shithole your world has become lately, had been desecrated. Not even in the safety of your own home could you pretend your anxieties didn’t exist, the tell-tale vibrations of your phone and the occasional, persistent series of dings that alert you to a new message were ceaseless. It’s a little concerning, her dogged dedication to attempting to contact you, but at this point you’re not even interested in psycho-analysing it. You just want a break, and for the “block call” function on your phone to maybe actually work for once.

Actually, you’ve been (unfortunately, regrettably) given a lot of insight into sides of Sera you’d never witnessed before, faces she’d kept hidden behind a carefully prepared facade and the persona she wanted to present to the world for the duration of your friendship. The messages she sends you come in groups, and more often than not in completely contradicting tones. Begging, pleading, empty apologies, anger, spite— you’ve seen them all, sometimes in the same message. For the most part, they’re shameless pleas and begs for you to talk to her, to answer her calls and listen to what she has to say. Some of them, though, give you a massive whiplash when you read them.

One such text from mid-Sunday reads from the notification bar, “i’m doing what you wanted, what the fuck is your problem? why are you so mad? honestly, at this point it’s a little selfish of you, i’m sacrificing so damn much just to…”

Another, barely an hour after that one, was quick to backtrack, “llisten y/n, i’m sso fuckiggn sorry for that last tesct. it was so uncalled for im so sorry. i’m trying so hrard but you wont evenn anser my callss, and im jsut, imr realluy having g scucjh a hard time with all of this stuff goigng on adn…”

You didn’t click on the notification or open them, so you don’t actually know what she says in the latter half of her messages. You don’t think you want to though, if the start of some of them are any indication as to what the rest will hold.

As if your phone being constantly lit up in some way or another due to her wasn’t enough, you also had to bear witness to the rest of the bullshit manifesting at her hands. In actuality, it was largely this that is responsible for relighting your rage pit and getting you back on the “incredibly pissed and absolutely unimpressed” track.

Contrary to the texts and voicemails Sera left you over the course of the weekend, she is simultaneously active on the cursed forum that she used to start all this, and the posts you've been seeing only serve to fuel your anger. At one point you got so mad you nearly threw your phone into your pot of noodles, the only thing stopping you being that you’re better than that and you’d rather throw yourself off the bank into the nearby river than let her get one up on you in any way.

Pleading and begging she would be in your inbox, and then she’d turn and press send on a post in the forum that completely contradicts whatever crap she bawled at you in her messages. The forum is currently an absolute mess of shipping posts (no longer starring you, but her) with varying suspected muses, the odd conspiracy post, and questions directed her as the ‘author’ that she answered in full character. You could deal with the shipping posts (well, all but one. That one made your blood boil and your stomach twist into an ugly pit of warped envy), but her impersonating you as the author and answering questions about your work as though she wrote it herself? You’re ready to spill blood.

The most common question, of course, in all its variations is something best encapsulated by this particular gem that shows up late Sunday evening: ‘omg, i love love love moonlight sonata! the second i read it i couldn’t help but fall in love, whether with you or the poem idk yet! I just wanted to know, like probably everyone does, who was the muse?’

That [redacted]’s response to this is probably the one that gets your blood boiling the most too.

‘hi, thank you so so much for all the love! its so strange since this was never meant to get out and i never really get such response to my works,, but i’m getting more used to it and im so so grateful!! haha! its actually funny you say that,, it was so embarrassing at the time but i once had a teacher say that they thought i could make someone fall in love with me with a poem alone >< hehe i guess they were right! and i did write moonlight sonata for someone, but i’m not sure if i should reveal that just yet… you’ll have to wait and see!’

Murder is illegal and so is manslaughter. Again, with more feeling. Murder is illegal, and so is manslaughter. There. You take in a deep breath, attempting desperately to find some zen after recalling all the forum posts you’d seen over the duration of the weekend. You suppose the only silver lining you’re going to be able to find in this is the fact that Sera doesn’t actually know who you wrote the poem for. Well, she might have a suspicion, but you’ve never told her. And even so, there would be no point in her ‘revealing’ who your muse is, since she’s claimed she is the author and ‘confessing’ someone would lead to circumstances she’d likely rather avoid.

But, now that you think about it, shouldn’t that mean that she’d try and avoid mentioning it altogether? If so, why is she feeding it every chance she gets…?

You don’t get to spare that train of thought much time, since despite how long the weekend drags on, the next day arrives very quickly. Before you know it, almost the entire day is gone and you’re zipping through your tutoring session with Hoseok, helping the somewhat frantic boy with a last-minute assessment he’d completely forgotten about. You’ve spent the whole day successfully avoiding anything to do with Sera and that stupid poem, and you’re actually feeling quite good at this point, in comparison to how you’ve been feeling the past, well, the past month or so. The hour passes quicker than you’d like and before long you’re packing your things up and helping Hoseok with his own bulging assortment of textbooks and notepads before they all go tumbling to the floor. You swear you see some receipts with hasty scribbles littering the bottom of his bag but you try not to look since you don’t want to ruin your progress and stress yourself out. You’re in such an oddly peaceful mood you’re actually thinking of asking Jimin if he wants to spend the session outside under the trees in the new garden the university brought in. Uncharacteristic, you know, but what is the human experience if not getting so stressed and exceeding your emotional capacity so extensively that you transcend all planes of feeling and feel contrarily at peace?

It’s as you’re exiting the library after your session with Hoseok, carrying some of his things for him while he fixes his bag, that the universe decides to remind you of your place and the fact that you can never truly avoid your problems in life. Apparently, they’re prone to chasing you down and sniffing you out like a bloodhound, and like a particularly nasty yeast infection they never truly go away until you seek professional help and purchase an antibiotic restraining order for that shit.

You barely get the words, ‘See you on Wednesday, Hoseok’, out of your mouth before you hear another familiar sound, much sooner than you anticipated. Hoseok returns the farewell and turns away, still cramming the rest of his things in his bag as he begins to move off. A laugh, light and airy and very familiar, brushes your ears and you turn with a slight smile on your face. Excellent, given he doesn’t see Hoseok making his quick escape, then he’ll probably still be in a good enough mood to agree to studying outside with you.

You turn, greeting already on the tip of your tongue, and promptly feel the words die in your throat and the smile on your lips drop completely. Oh, for the love of fuck.

Jimin is smiling, laughing, as he comes down the hallway, cheeks flushed pink and eyes disappearing into gleeful crescents— it’s a sight that would made you smile if it weren’t for the fact that he’s not alone.

The woman of the hour, the source of your suffering for the past month or so, is striding along next to the oblivious male, like the scorpion perched on the frog’s back. She’s placed her hand on the back of his arm as they walk, smiling at something he’s said as he chatters away, resembling an eager puppy as he does so. You recognise the move as one of her favourite lightly flirty ones.

Somewhat belatedly, your flight response kicks in, and you go to move and leave while you can— but its not before Sera turns and notices you standing there, mid-movement.

The shift is instantaneous. You might have thought that the interested expression she was directing at Jimin was genuine, if it weren’t for the way her entire demeanour changes the second she catches sight of you. Your first instinct is to be angry that she’d managed to find her way to Jimin, and that he’d probably fall for whatever bullshit spouted from her mouth about being the author, but as you see the slight, victorious flicker pass through her gaze, you become angry for another reason entirely. The suspicion weighing heavy in your gut makes your blood boil as Sera straightens, angling her body away from Jimin completely and all but non-verbally dismissing him, as though he’s no longer even there.

Jimin halts, brows drawing together as he takes in the change in Sera’s behaviour, confusion colouring his puppy-like features as he looks around for anything that could have triggered it. His eyes fall on you and they light in recognition, smile returning to his face as he waves at you, some of his crimson locks falling across his forehead from the movement. “Oh, y/n! Hey! I was just on my way to the session!”

Something churns in your gut, a foreboding feeling that feels far too icky to touch.

He takes a step closer, but pauses when Sera moves forward. Your entire body is tense with the conflicting urges to run and sock her in the face, limbs coiled and ready to spring you away. You’re going to have a massive crick in your neck after this. She begins stepping closer, hand stretching out as though to touch your arm, her brows drawing together in as close an approximation as she can get to regretful.

“y/n, I’ve been trying to talk to you all day,” she says, tone having adopted an edge you’re very familiar with. Is she stupid? You know all her manipulation tactics, what is the point in employing them now? You think you know, though, and the thought only serves to stoke the bubbling pit of molten rage in your stomach.

Her hand reaches for your arm, trying to touch it, and you move it out of the way before she can, taking a few firm steps back. “Don’t touch me,” you warn, unable to help the glare that your features are pulled into. “I’m not interested in talking to you. I don’t want to.”

She’s really pushing it. You’re a patient woman, but even you have a limit and she’s fast approaching it.

A flicker of irritation flashes across Sera’s features before she masks it with her go-to ‘kicked puppy’ look. From the corner of your eye, you see Jimin flounder in confusion, probably because he has absolutely no idea what happened between you.

“y/n,” Sera whimpers, and when you see Jimin shift in concern behind her you realise why she’s acting the way she is. She’s using him as collateral, and she used him for land development to actually lock you down. Seems she doesn’t take being avoided very well. “Why are you being so harsh? I— I’m doing what you asked, why are you still so mad?”

You can’t help the venomous response that rips itself off your tongue, glare deepening. “Cut the shit. You know exactly why I’m pissed— it’s the same fucking reason I was pissed last week, except now it’s worse because you’ve made it worse. How could you possibly think any of what you’ve been doing is what I asked?”

You can only be glad that Hoseok has already left and the hallway is mostly deserted, the sole witness being Jimin to the spectacle beginning to unfold as Sera places a hand to her chest, sniffing and throwing her other hand out for emphasis. “Please, y/n, what do I have to do to fix this? I really have been doing what you asked, I’ve been—”

It’s as though something snaps within you, almost an entire week of her bullshit placing you at your wits end. You’re fuming, practically spitting flames, and it’s just barely that you hold yourself back from wrapping your hands around her throat. “You’ve been doing nothing but make things worse for me! You started this whole thing, you continued feeding into it even though you knew what it would mean for me— there is no fixing this!”

“y/n,” Sera’s eyes have begun to water, and you’re so enraged you don’t even see Jimin taking a few alarmed steps closer. “Please, I-I’m so sorry, I’ve said it a thousand times that I am s-so sorry—”

“Don’t you dare come to me and tell me you’re sorry. You’re not sorry, you were never sorry, and you clearly don’t regret a thing because the entire time since last Wednesday all you’ve been doing as parading around and proclaiming yourself as the author of that stupid poem when we both know it isn’t you!”

Sera flinches back, a visible clash of hurt and rage whipping across her features. It seems she settles on the latter emotion, face dropping into a glare and mouth opening to hurl a response back. The front she has put up is falling apart the longer this goes on. “I’ve told you so many times how much I regret what I did, how can you say—”

“y/n, what the hell?” Jimin’s voice has a sharp edge you don’t think you’ve ever heard before as he steps forward suddenly, looking incredulous and angry at once as he suddenly reminds you of his presence. “She’s the author, stop being so horrible. Isn’t she your friend? How could you doubt her? Is it so hard to believe that she’d want to write a poem for the person she likes?”

You’re momentarily stunned by his words, confused as to why he’s stepping in to defend her so avidly even with his little crush. It takes a moment, but it clicks eventually— dread fills the pit of your stomach as you realise that the idealistic hopes Jimin had revealed to you last session about being the subject of the poem have been exploited by a scorpion wishing to cross the pond.

“Shut up, this doesn’t concern you.”

Torn violently from your thoughts by the harsh, unexpected words, your gaze whips back to Sera, eyes wide. Jimin flinches, a soft noise of shock and surprise escaping him as his own wide-eyed gaze centers on her and hurt floods his deep chocolate irises. “Wh-what? But you said—?”

“Shut. Up,” she grinds out through teeth clenched so tight that part of you thinks they might shatter beneath the pressure.

Jimin fumbles, his confusion urging him to continue when he probably shouldn’t. “When we were walking here you said that you… that I was—”

Sera explodes, like a bomb with faulty wires and a timer that went off too soon. “I LIED! I’m not the author, and even if I was, that poem would never be about YOU!”

In the seconds that follow her booming exclamation, her words ring in the absolute silence of the hall. For a moment, it’s still. Then your eyes flick to Jimin’s face and you see how it falls, and all of a sudden it hits you— the realisation of what she just said, and who she said it to. How awful Jimin must feel, to hear those things directed at him. Now, for a moment, you see red, and you feel it slowly climb up your body from your toes to your fingertips and to your chest. You aren’t even aware of moving until you’re barely a foot away from Sera and your arm is whipping through the air, body apparently more in control than your brain.

You’ve never slapped anyone before, didn’t ever think that you really would, but the motion comes easily and the harsh impact of your hand against Sera’s cheek is satisfying in an odd, sickening way. Apparently you pack quite a punch when absolutely fucking livid, because her head turns from the force of your blow, her eyes shooting wide. You’ve left a mark in her foundation. Jimin’s crushed expression crosses your mind’s eye once more and suddenly the satisfaction you felt prior isn’t enough. You go to move again.

You get barely a split second into the movement before arms are looping under your armpits, your body being hauled away and out of hitting range. You’re so angry you barely pay attention to who it is, your focus on the piece of work in front of you and the absolute spitting rage that has swallowed you whole at the sight of her.

“How dare you—” you seethe, the words spilling like acid from your tongue faster than you can think them. “How could you say that to him—”

Everything suddenly hastens into movement from the stillness that had possessed it before. Distantly, you realise the person restraining you has stopped moving backwards and is attempting to calm you, but that doesn’t carry much weight when you hear a choked noise and your gaze is drawn suddenly to the side.

Jimin has taken a step back, almost stumbling in his leather boots, his hands trembling and brows drawn together, expression nothing short of crestfallen. You swear you catch his bottom lip quiver, and then your attention is taken by the way his dark eyes begin to water right in front of you. You’re almost rooted to the spot in shock as they begin to fill with tears, but you don’t get to see them fall because before they can, Jimin turns on his heel and begins walking away, pace quick and hurried.

“y/n.” The red has cleared from your vision enough that you now realise the person restraining you is Hoseok, his voice sounding close to your ear. He speaks again and you freeze because it’s with a tone you’ve never heard come from him before. It’s fury, but quiet and controlled unlike your hot spark of rage, and it makes you snap back into your senses instantly, spine straightening. “Go after him. He’s hurting.”

The brain cell rattling around in your brain reserved for mortal combat might be telling you to finish Sera off while you can, but Jimin is your friend and the reason you want to kill her in the first place is because she did hurt him. And the look on his face… you’ve never seen it on him before and you never want to again. For whatever reason, her careless words seem to have cut him deep, and you need to go and make sure he’s okay.

Without a second thought, you slip out of Hoseok’s arms and he lets you go. You begin in the direction that Jimin is going, footsteps hastening in an attempt to close the distance. You forget about Sera in favour of chasing more pressing things. “Jimin—”

The call had slipped out of your lips unwittingly, but the sound of it seems to set Jimin off. He quickens his pace further, and his legs aren’t that much longer than yours but the muscles are clearly more developed since you’re eating his dust even more than before. He disappears around the corner, and you just barely catch sight of his behind before you have to push to glimpse him once more.

Whether he doesn’t want to be followed by anyone, or whether he— heaven forbid— thinks it’s Sera coming after him, Jimin does his best to try and lose you. Around twists and turns, down hallways that you didn’t even know this building had, you chase him for what feels like forever and you can’t pinpoint where but somewhere in that time the two of you transitioned to almost running, Jimin’s light jog-speedwalk fusion easily getting the better of your own weak attempt.

Despite the heaviness of the situation, you can’t help but marvel that he really didn’t successfully streak across the university sports field for nothing— he’s super fast, and the only reason you’re able to keep up somewhat is through the temporary rush of adrenaline that slapping Sera gave you and the sheer determination not to lose him. You don’t normally have this much stamina, after all, but you don’t think Jimin is going to be running out on the other hand either. If he takes you up one more flight of stairs it’s game over for you.

“Jimin, wait—” you attempt to call out once or twice, but he never turns around, and each time you do so just results in him moving faster. You get the message quickly, but still have to bite your tongue to quell the natural urge to call out that rises.

The longer he goes, the more frantic he seems. Once or twice you think you see his shoulders shake, but can’t tell if it’s him or the rattling of your vision from your jerky movements. Jimin can’t evade you forever though, and this building and its hallways aren’t endless. Eventually you reach a dead-end, and the red-haired male gives up. He stumbles a little, making it through the doorway before he moves to the wall, his back to you.

Slowing down from your jog, you feel the tax of the exercise catch up with you as your breathing works to compensate the uncharacteristic energy use. You pause as you make your way towards him, somewhat tentative now he’s backed in a corner. Well, corner might not be the right word for it. Somehow, in all his evading, Jimin has managed to lead the two of you to the small balcony on the top floor of the building, barely anything more than a little alcove to overlook the horizon. It faces the direction that the sun sets, and you receive a view of that now, the soft reds, pinks and oranges a contrast to the light blue of Jimin’s denim jacket but a compliment to the scarlet of his hair.

Despite the fact you chased him this far, wanting to comfort him, now that you’re here… you feel kind of bad for intruding. Still, you didn’t tail him through the entire building for nothing. Tentatively, you make your way over to where he is. You’re not very loud, but he seems to sense your arrival when you step out onto the balcony with him, back still to you. You take another step closer, going to peer around his shoulder, but he flinches, bringing his hand up over the side of his face and using the other to wipe under his nose.

“Don’t look,” he sniffs. “This is humiliating.”

At his words, you feel your heart sink right down to your feet. The resulting sensation is an empty ache in your chest, something you think you can best describe as empathy that is a little too deeply rooted. Suddenly you realise that, in a way, this is your fault. You wrote the poem that ended up hurting him, and even though you weren’t the one who said those things to him, you’re the one that provided the fodder.

You don’t know what to say, so much was on the tip of your tongue trying to burst forth before, but now it’s as though your voice is stuck in your throat. You swallow, shuffling the slightest bit closer, and attempt to pull something meaningful from the dredges of your mind.

“It’s okay. Everyone looks a little bit ugly when they cry, you know.” Not what you intend to come out, but it comes out anyway.

It pulls an unwitting laugh from Jimin though, the sound tinged with the echo of a sob. He turns and presses his back to the wall, covering his face with both hands, and slides down until he’s seated on the floor, knees drawn up. You watch him for a moment, the way his form trembles slightly and he sniffs, before you’re carefully placing yourself down next to him, trying not to be too obnoxious in your movements.

You wait a moment, partly because you want to see if he is going to say anything and partly because you, yourself, have no idea where to start. It occurs to you, though, that maybe what he wants isn’t comfort in the form of words. When he doesn’t speak, and the moment still doesn’t feel right to say anything, you ease a little closer and, when he doesn’t protest or shift away, you do the only thing you can think might comfort him in this moment.

Silently, you move your arm up and around, slipping it over his shoulders and pulling him close to you into a half-embrace, feeling somewhat like a mother hen sheltering her chick from the harshness of the world. Jimin stills for a second, frozen in your arms, but then he lets himself fall into you and it seems the proverbial dam holding his tears at bay breaks.

He lets himself sob now, hands still over his face and his body shaking against your side as he curls up into you and draws his knees closer to his body. His tears flood his hands, some escaping to drip down onto your legs and shirt. Your heart aches at the sounds escaping him— trust Sera to unintentionally pinpoint someone’s deeply hidden trauma when insulting them. The only thing stronger than the dislike you feel for her right now is the regret that you allowed the circumstances of your own situation to spill out and affect other innocent people in your life, like Jimin.

You spend some time simply sitting there, letting Jimin cry out the hurt against you at the cost of your shirt and jeans, running your hand soothingly along his back and arm. You place your other hand on the knee closest to you, not much but another small symbol of comfort you hope he receives. He’s in a state for a while, sobbing and hiccuping until his voice grows a little hoarse and thick from the snot congesting his nose. Eventually, he calms enough that his body no longer shakes with his weeping, and after a period of silence broken only by a few sniffles here and there, the male pulls away so that he’s no longer leaning on you like the tower of Piza.

You let him slip out of your hold, simply sitting and waiting for him to speak— you could sense the intention in the way he wipes his face and swallows, readying himself. You don’t have to wait long.

“This is probably the one thing I’m most afraid of in life, you know,” he croaks softly, a humourless laugh tacked onto the end. Your heart gives a painful throb, but you bite your tongue from comforting him just yet. You can feel there’s more to come.

Jimin seems to finally manage to wipe his face somewhat clean, at last letting his hands drop onto his lap and allowing his head to fall back softly against the wall. His profile is illuminated by the last reaches of the sun, casting him in a soft pink glow that almost disguises the redness around his eyes and nose.

Watching him so keenly as you are, it doesn’t escape you when he opens his mouth to speak again and his chin wobbles, his gaze directed to the ceiling of the alcove. His voice wavers, growing strained as he vocalises the thoughts weighing him down so.

“It’s kind of stupid, isn’t it?” he says softly, still looking upwards. “Everyone’s afraid of rejection, but for me… I can’t— I can’t… handle it.”

“It’s stupid, to be crying over this,” he sniffles, eyes watering but no tears falling as he attempts to hold them back. “It’s stupid, but it just— it just hurts, you know? It fuckin’ hurts. All the people I admire, and the people I have admired in my life…”

Jimin blinks, a single tear slipping down over his cheekbone of its own accord. He lets it go, not bothering to wipe it. You’re caught frozen in your spot, watching with wide eyes as he reveals the most hidden part of himself and entrusts it to you. From just your usual interactions, you’d never have garnered that this side of him even exists. He takes a deep breath, a shaky breath. “It doesn’t matter who they are, what they are to me, it never seems to change. Either they don’t want me from the beginning, or they— they find something more important to them than me and they leave.”

“A-and I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help but think,” he chokes a little, voice growing thicker and wobbling dangerously. He blinks rapidly, fresh tears burning his eyes. His voice cracks on the last of his words. “I can’t help but think, w-what if that’s what is meant for me? W-what if there’s no one who will stay?... What if no one will want me, y/n?”

His words are a boot crushing your heart beneath its sole, and you swear even with all you’ve been through in the past month or so you have never felt as gutted before as you feel now for him. The last question to leave his mouth seems to bring the rest of his feelings to the surface, his eyes closing as a soft sob slips from his lips once more. He brings his hands to his face again, elbows resting on the top of his knees, and you’re so busy trying to squash down your own tears for him that for a moment, you can only sit there and listen to him. You feel a bit lost.

What could you ever possibly do to even begin healing a wound that seems to run that deep?

You know, realistically, there isn’t anything you can do, and it’s not your place nor wound to heal. But still, you know there is something you can do to ease it a little in this moment, you just need to figure it out. It’s at that thought that suddenly, you receive a stroke of genius, an idea that honestly is a little embarrassing but definitely better than nothing coming to mind.

Already feeling somewhat humiliated in advance, you reach for your bag and open it enough to stick your hand in and rifle through it for the familiarly shaped object. Jimin has shown you one of the most vulnerable parts of him, so you can live with the embarrassment this once. Your hand finally locates what it’s looking for, pulling out the beaten-up A5 spiral notebook that has lived in your backpack for the past two years. Jimin either doesn’t hear you or doesn’t care enough at the moment to pay attention to whatever the shuffling sound is, which you’re kind of thankful for because you need a minute or two to actually follow through with your idea.

You slip your hand back into your bag as you open the notebook with the other, performing a lucky-dip of sorts into the risky depths of your bag one more in search of a pen. You find one and pull it out without discrimination— god, alright, it’s the rainbow ink gel pen with a crystal cat on the end that you bought on a whim at the dollar store. Guess that’s the hill you’re dying on this afternoon.

Peeking to the side to make sure Jimin isn’t watching— he’s still crying into his hands, something you probably shouldn’t be slightly relieved about in the moment— you try and flick through the book as quietly as possible, eyes scanning the messy scribbles on each page.

This, is your little rough idea scrapbook. The only thing that’s in a state anywhere near as chaotic and messy as this is your phone notes, and you really don’t want to think about those right now. In this old, beaten notebook that surprisingly hasn’t run out of pages yet, is where you usually scribble your ideas for writings, or poems. You’re looking for one of the latter currently, a rough draft that came to you in a fever dream and you copied onto paper in a haze, before never touching again. It’s incomplete, but you’re finally about to give it the ending it deserves.

Finally, you catch sight of it on one of the pages to the back, the words “softer than the embrace of the moon” jumping out at you. Ah, this is it. The rough draft of Moonlight Sonata, the poem that ended up turning your life on it’s head and leaving you for dead in the dust from the upheaval.

Making sure Jimin is still not focusing on you, you uncap the stupid, glittery pen and hastily put it to paper, throwing down whatever enters your head that makes sense and feels right. You don’t think you’ve ever written anything this fast that wasn’t a heap of absolute trash, but perhaps it’s the emotional potency of the moment that has you scrawling lines across paper with ease.

You only take a few minutes, and after which you somehow simultaneously feel the cathartic effects of creating a poem and the embarrassment of the fact someone else is about to see it. Well, it’s not Moonlight Sonata in any way, but this little abridged creation… it’s not too bad.

Quietly as you can so you don’t prematurely disturb his weeping, you tear the page from the book and make sure there’s nothing on the back and the old title is scribbled out before you fold it in half, turning to Jimin at last.

Gently, you reach and brush some of the dyed strands from his forehead, successfully catching his attention. Jimin peels his hands from his face, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot but containing a curious glint as they turn to you.

You opt not to say anything just yet, pulling one hand towards you and placing the folded piece of paper onto his palm. Confused, he stares at it for a moment before bringing it back towards him and tentatively unfolding it. You wait until he begins to scan the page before you speak.

“Just because you weren’t the subject of that poem, doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of being the subject of any.”

His head whips to you as your soft words catch in his ears, eyes wide and glistening slightly, full lips parted and mouth slightly ajar. You can feel your face beginning to burn, but you ignore it for the sake of Jimin. You’ve come this far, you need to say it and he needs to hear it.

“There are many things about you to fall in love with, Jimin, and even if the author didn’t, I know someone will,” your voice shakes slightly as you speak, a small smile touching your lips. Something pops into your mind before you can call it quits, and you feel the rest of your face light on fire in anticipation. Right. Just do it, pussy. It was embarrassing when done to you, and it’s embarrassing to be the one doing it, too.

This is so humiliating, but you’ll do it… for him. Fuck this whole friendship thing, man.

Taking another deep breath, you reach for the hand closest to you and take it into your grasp, pulling it closer. “And I know it hurts, right now, a lot… and it might hurt for a while, and that’s okay.” You swallow your embarrassment and bring his palm to your lips, placing a soft kiss there, before moving his hand back and placing it over his heart. “But my mother always said kisses take the pain away, so I hope this can ease it, even a little.”

In the moments following your little spiel, it’s silent, and Jimin stares at you in a mixture of shock, appreciation, and something else you’re not quite emotionally equipped to decipher. The stillness breaks in the next second when his eyes water once more and he lets out a long whine that sounds suspiciously like your name, and to save face you let out a loud groan as you reach and pull him into a hug again, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Hopeless,” you say, shuffling you both so you’re facing the sunset and watching the last of it slip past the horizon. “If you keep crying, how are we going to explain your face after? I know I told you everyone is a little ugly when they cry but you’re really— ow!”

Jimin chokes a sobbed laugh into your shoulder, retracing his fingers from where they jabbed your ribs. You glance from the corner of your eye and can’t help the smile that rises when you see he’s clutching the scribbled poem you finished for him to his chest.

“Shut up and let me commit the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me to memory and watch the sunset before I push you over the railing,” he grumbles, smile evident in his voice. You roll your eyes again, face still warm from your embarrassment. You relax into each other, soaking up the last of the sun’s warmth while it’s there.

Backtalk, after you willingly humiliated yourself to make him feel better? Fuck this friendship thing, bro. Gremlins have rights, too.

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