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dourpeep · 3 years

Note

Howdy! Could I request a soft!dom!kazuha x sub!male!reader? I’ve noticed how little content there was for kazuha, especially the male readers. It could be a series of headcannons, a oneshot, Drabble— whatever you feel more comfortable with! :) I suppose thats all I need to complete the request?

And thus, the long awaited reply! My apologies for the long wait, dearest anon, but it's appropriate, in a way, to finish this the day that Kazuha's debuting!

I ended up writing a full-on fic because the woeful lack of Kazuha fics and even bigger lack of Kazuha x amab!Reader. And we can't have that, now can we? So without further ado, I hope you enjoy! :DD

Hold Me Tighter

Summary: A sweet, intimate night spent in the arms of the one you love.

Contains: ((NSFW 18+)) Kazuha x amab!Reader, soft dom!Kazuha, sub!Reader, grinding, frottage, rimming, sweet & romantic

In the moonlight, you’re draped in the soft silence wearing a thin robe, watching the clouds make their journey across the endless dark of the sky.

Up here, standing on the balcony with the view of the city spread out like a million stars, you can breathe.

It’s nice. But not quite as nice as the familiar warmth of the hand that slips within yours and the lips that press so sweetly to your cheek. Kazuha settles behind you, wrapping his arms securely around you and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Good evening, something on your mind?”

You lean to the kiss, then turning to rub your nose against his. This little home of yours feels warmer when he’s around.

“Not in particular...” Another kiss finds itself on your jaw just below your ear and he hums in satisfaction. “What are you doing, Kazu?”

“Am I not allowed to kiss you?”

His lips brush down to your neck, and you tilt your head to give him better access. They trail over your pulse and stop at your shoulder. Shifting, Kazuha reaches to gently move your robe to reveal more of your skin.

Then he stops.

The question of why dies on the tip of your tongue when he drapes your robe back in place, instead replaced by curious confusion.

“You should come back inside, this—” He mumbles, tugging at the thin, silky material of your robe. “Will make you catch a cold out here. The air tonight is brisk.”

So you follow him inside the warmth of your home, humoring his worry.

With you in the safety of his arms now, Kazuha hums with a satisfied smile. You lean back to rest against his chest, your hand sliding up to rest on top of one of his.

Breathing in deep, he noses at your hair, mumbling about the subtle smell of your shampoo. He was right, it’s much nicer to relax inside where the cool breeze doesn’t nip at your skin. Instead, the chill is replaced with the gentle heat radiating off of your lover and a comfortable ambiance.

But the soft silence only lasts so long with the telltale feel of fingers playing with the ties of your robe, a warm puff of breath brushing against the exposed skin of your neck. They leave and trail up to trace over your collarbone and the fabric partly covering it.

Throat bobbing, you relax as his other hand slides from under yours to guide the fabric away from your shoulder.

Before he can drag his lips along the newly exposed skin, you wiggle from his arms, taking his hand in yours and guiding him to the bedroom.

Clothing quickly finds its place in a pile on the floor, leaving no room between the two of you as you lay on your back.

Tender, Kazuha leans down over you, cock pressing to your thigh and lips melding against yours. You gasp into his mouth and buck your hips when his start to roll slowly against yours, grinding down on your own aching member.

With each bump of hips, you moan, tilting your head back.

“Kazuha…”

Dragging his lips over down to the fluttering pulse beneath the surface of your neck, he breathes you in, smiling against your skin. You’re warm, pleasantly so against the length of his body, and the hand that’s settled on your hip slides down to cup your ass and give it a squeeze. Languid, he pulls your hips up against the rhythm of his thrusts.

Every slide of his skin against yours feeds the growing desire but soon his hips stop and your brows furrow at the loss of friction.

Watching as he pulls away, sitting up, your eyes drift between you. Oh, you whisper, seeing the shine of precum spread over your cock and his, how it’s messily leaking over your stomach.

Your cheeks flare and he chuckles, removing himself from between your legs. “No need to be embarrassed. Can you turn around for me?”

Nodding, you shift, pressing your chest to the soft surface of the bed with your arms tucked beneath the pillow under your head. Immediately, his hands are back on you, rubbing up your thighs and massaging your ass. They waste no time in exploring the expanses of skin with teasing brushes and squeezes.

When he lowers himself down onto the bed, his lips meet the round of your ass with a kiss. His hands slide to cup each side.

Holding the soft flesh in his hands, he spreads them, leaning down to trail his lips from where his thumb settles besides your puckered hole. He swipes the pad over it, marveling over the shaky sigh the sensation draws.

He licks his lips and locks eyes with you, chuckling when you advert them and press your face against your arms.

Kazuha’s tongue traces along the sensitive seam beneath your shaft, hot breath puffing against heated skin. He can’t help the way that his lips knowingly curl up when your cock jumps at the feeling.

“Ngh..”

As he laps at the sensitive skin, he blows cool air gently only to place warm lips back. The shift in sensation draws a moan from your lips, though muffled by the pillow, then a gasp. A bite to your thigh trails back up to tease just beside your hole, waiting for a whine to slip before his tongue circles around it. Tensing, you arch your back to press closer to him.

“Patience, dove.”

But as soon as he says that he plunges his tongue into you, groaning at the way you breathe his name.

He works his tongue, thrusting it into you before pulling it away to swirl around your entrance. Eyes closed, he presses another kiss to one of your cheeks.

When Kazuha finally pulls away, a thin thread of saliva left between his tongue and you, he slides his hands from your ass up your back, leaning over you.

“Left drawer?” A few moments are spent missing the feel of him.

The cap of the bottle opens with a sudden pop.

“It’s a little cold, okay?”

You jump at the feel of the cold gel pressing to your hole, and he quickly apologizes. But the temperature is fleeting and soon warms as he circles his fingers around.

“I’ll just use one first.”

Gingerly, he squeezes out a bit more lube before his touch returns to you. His fingers aren’t particularly large, so the first slides in with some ease. It pushes in, to the first knuckle, waiting for you to relax before continuing. When you let out a breathy moan, he pushes it in all the way.

The way you squeeze around the single digit makes his head spin.

“You think you can take another already or should I relax you more?”

So aroused, you urge him to continue.

A second slick finger prods and pushes into you, his hand twisting so his palm is facing up. Already you’re tempted to move your hips, to take them in further. He starts pumping his fingers in you, spreading them to drag along your walls and coax you to relax. Each movement draws a sigh from your lungs and your eyes flutter closed.

“Feels nice…”

But he clicks his tongue, teasing. “Just nice?”

The aimless stretching turns into the slow, careful drag in and out, fingers curving to press just a bit more against your walls. Another crook and—

Oh! Judging by the way your laugh hitches and your hips tilt back, he tries to brush against that spot again. And again, and again, until you’re effectively fucking yourself on his fingers.

“Getting close? I want you to tell me, use your words.”

“Ye—yes- Kazuh—hahh-“

The knot in your stomach tightens and breaks as you tumble over your peak, cock messily leaking white onto the sheets below, and your body trembles at the intensity of your orgasm. A third finger presses in and massages you through the haze of pleasure, making you whine.

Just the three make you feel so full.

“Feels good now, hm?”

But the smug tone hardly registers when you’re so focused on the added pressure pressing into your ass. He continues fucking you with his fingers, prolonging your pleasure, only slowing to a stop when you sob his name and tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

A shaky breath of relief accompanies the withdrawal of fingers.

Wiping his hand on his thigh, he settles besides you, kissing your shoulder and gently nuzzling his cheek against you.

“Was that too much…?”

You shake your head, still dizzy from your high. He shifts again, hardness pressed against you. But he makes no move to continue, instead smoothing his hand over your back in soothing motions. A few moments pass where he peppers you in gentle affection while you catch back up.

When you find the strength, you pull your knees up. Burying your face in the pillow, you mutter an okay.

“Relax for me…” He murmurs against your skin, kisses pressed along your spine to help calm you. “I’ll go slow.”

Guiding the tip of his cock along the cleft of your ass, Kazuha takes his time to swipe it along your taint. His heart pounds in his chest, urging him to hurry and feel you around his cock, and he’s sure that yours does the same. But he continues, deliberate, sliding back up your ass and back down. You press your face into the pillow to muffle a frustrated moan and he chuckles.

“Too slow?” You shake your head accompanied with the short chirp of a ‘no’.

When he finally presses against your ass, you’re relaxed and ready. With a murmur of your name, tender and sweet, he waits, letting you prepare. Lips on your shoulder, he carefully tilts his hips closer to yours.

And archons, the feel of him finally pushing past that first ring of muscle…

Kazuha watches the way you react, ruby eyes flickering over your back and thighs for any sign of discomfort. A sigh of relief puffs from his lips when you don’t tense up hard. Good.

“Keep going—”

Impatient tonight, then? But instead of laughing, since his own patience is being tested by the ache of his own desire, he hums and lowers his body to brush against yours.

Just a bit more and—

The sound that leaves your lips sends a rush of heat straight through his body.

“Mmnh!”

Ah, so he did find the right angle.

Focusing on shallow thrusts, he cants his hips back to hit that spot, each stroke slow. Every movement makes your head grow fuzzy and hips try and press back against his for more.

Drinking in your moans, Kazuha rubs and squeezes at your hip, murmuring sweet words of praise in your ear. You’re doing so well, taking him so well—

But right before the white-hot feeling of your pleasure spills over, he instead bottoms out in a fluid motion.

Frustration is quickly overridden by the realization of his hips pressed flush to your ass and his warm forehead between your shoulders. With the suddenness of your tight heat squeezing around him there’s only so much that he can do to will himself to calm down.

Blindly, one of his hands reaches for yours to intertwine fingers.

The cool of the air around you makes you so much more aware of the way heavy panting draws puffs of warmth against your skin, his lips just barely hovering over your flushed skin.

One second turns to five before his hips shift and start a slow pace and you melt against the sheets when he rolls his hips deeper, hips flush to hips.

Each thrust is so deliciously slow, his cock dragging against your walls and pressing up against that spot with every push back in.

Breath ghosts over your pulse as he rocks into you, pulling out and pushing back in entirely. Though the slight twinge of friction makes your breath hitch, the pleasure that washes over you quickly quells any discomfort. The feel of him going so deep with every movement leaves you gasping.

Slow, deep, he takes his time. Kazuha’s lips press to the back of your neck, blowing gently into your ear.

“Love you—”

As he murmurs, his hands travel along the length of your body, reaching to rub at your chest, at your thigh. His voice soft, he whispers these words like a prayer, over and over again as if their truth would only grow with each utter.

With the feel of you so tight around him, he can’t help but quicken his thrust, the slide of slick lube and your moans like music encouraging him. Your still intertwined hands press into the soft sheets of the bed, shifting with every meeting of his hips to yours.

He hits the spot again and you can’t help the plea that slips from you. “Touch me please-“

So he does, the hand on your hip sliding to meet your cock, teasing at your sensitive tip leaking precum and then up its length to wrap around your shaft. Every thrust makes it slip between his loose grip. Each thrust coaxing that familiar pressure to build within you.

You angle your hips more, closer to his. Though his hand leaves yours to grip your waist, he peppers kisses along your shoulders and whispers soft praise. So good, always so good for him.

The next brush against that spot makes you see stars and you’re left with shaking legs. When Kazuha pulls out of you, hissing at the way you clench around him in desperate attempt to make him thrust back in, the hand stroking you leaves.

“Wait—I’m so-“

He presses his cock between your spread legs, tip teasing against your shaft. He guides you to press your thighs together. Chest flush against yours, he thrusts quicker, gripping both of your cocks and stroking to the pace of his hips.

His moans pick up, raspy with need. So close—

Movements quickly become sloppy and his hand squeezes around both shafts to draw another moan from him and a gasp from you, edging closer and closer. The tension builds fast.

With a final slam of his hips against yours, pushing his cock between your soft thighs, he cries out your name and comes undone with warm white painting his hand and the sheets below you. Though sensitive, he weakly thrusts and continues to slide his hand along your shaft until you too feel the pressure in your belly snap and your spend mingles with his.

You let yourself collapse on the bed with limbs pleasantly numb, bringing a startled Kazuha along with you.

Ignoring the way your cum puddles beneath you, you laugh even though you’re already breathing hard as is. He rolls off from on top of you.

“Bath?”

While you try to catch your breath, your lover takes the hand closes to him in his, bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. It brings heat to your cheeks.

“Yes please.”

So after a few blissful moments spent just laying besides each other, you’re settled in the bath with Kazuha beside you. The hot water burns pleasantly against your skin.

Dragging a soft towel up along your arm he gently wipes, every movement slow and steady. The suds the cloth leaves smell sweet, light. When he finishes wiping the sweat and grime from you, his lips press to your temple.

“Want me to wash your hair?” A hum of approval from you is all he needs to hear before he carefully cups some of the water to pour over your head. “Close your eyes—”

It flows, wetting your hair and flowing over your features in little rivulets.

The pop of a cap follows as soon as he’s satisfied with his work.

As soon as his hands find their way into your hair, fingertips massaging your scalp, you can’t help but lean further into his touch. Kazuha chuckles, the sound pleasant in the way it reverberates in the room. He’s always so attentive, so soft.

Sighing, you smile, basking in the afterglow and comfort that he provides, morning still far ahead.

#anon asks #kazuha #kazuha x reader #genshin impact kazuha #genshin impact #genshin impact fics #genshin impact x reader #kaedehara kazuha #genshin impact drabbles #genshin impact smut #hehehee just in time for Kazuha's debut #dom!Kazuha #genshin impact x male reader

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

Text

stood up- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, anderson x reader (?) warnings: angst, getting stood up, language, unrequited feelings about: prompts (DA29) “i got stood up.” + (DF30) “i think you’re my soulmate.” +(DF41) “are you going to cry? please don’t cry. a/n: i love to hurt but dw it’s a happy ending, i actually like this fjsk, a the time i finished this, i just posted another imagine, so i can’t wait for you guys to read this one in a couple days

every passing second makes you hyperaware of all the sympathetic stares that are currently directed at you. the feeling of pity is enveloping you whole, wrapping you in a thin layer of shame that you think must be related to the careful makeup you caked on your face for this date. your recently manicured nails scratch at the tablecloth, trying to avoid your new expensive dress, deep midnight color clinging to your nervous self. teeth stress your dark wine bottom lip, anxious eyes darting across the restaurant.

with each face that enters the place, none of them being his, the presumption that he isn’t coming solidifies. with it, comes the embarrassment. you can feel the warnings of tears, already threatening to ruin the mascara you had applied so carefully, not bothering to choose the waterproof one because why would you be crying on your date?

you suppose it’s your own fault- how dare you attempt to get over bucky? how dare you trust the words of a shield agent? you pick at your nails, gathering up the courage to stand up and leave. your waitress, however, beats you to it, a faux apologetic look on her face. “oh, so you’ve been here for, like, half an hour and it seems no one is coming, and we kind of need the table, so…”

you hold back an uncomfortable cringe, nodding stiffly as you stand. “right. i’m sorry. i don’t need to… pay for the water, right?” you ask dumbly, ducking your head when she shakes her head condescendingly.

pushing the door open, you step into the brisk air of the night, clouded over with an uneasy disappointment that you’re sure is because of you. you stand for a second to look at the stars, realizing how pretty of a night this would be if you weren’t so damn frustrated. the upset hasn’t passed yet, although the beginnings of anger are peeking up in your stomach.

while you stare up at the moon, the universe decides your getting stood up wasn’t enough, choosing to gift you with cold droplets of water that make your mascara run. it’s unbelievable, you nearly scoff tearily.

you walk to your car then, the moonlight that should have been romantic when you walked out of the restaurant now only making you feel lonely. you don’t let the tears come yet, having enough pride to not let the smitten couples appreciating the romance of the rain see you cry, deciding to put that off until you’re in the quietness of your room.

you drive in the sound of the pattering rain, concentrated on keeping your breathing even so as to push back the tears, not wanting to have an accident on the way back home because your vision was clouded over with sadness.

the relief you feel when you arrive at the compound is immeasurable; the knowledge that all you have to do is walk quietly to your room, and you can release the pent up emotions that eat you whole is unbelievably satisfying. the horrible itching feeling that comes with the tears arrives again when you notice your reflection in the impressively clean windows of the stark compound. through the stains of your ruined makeup, you can see the remnants of how dolled up you were, how much time was spent with the intricate details that made you smile when you looked at yourself in the mirror.

you swallow back the painful lump in your throat, opening the doors and sniffling at the dimly-lit room. your heels click tiredly on the floor, precious bracelet lightly jangling when you move. you can’t find it in yourself to care when you realize you’re dragging water inside, resigning to letting stark lecture you in the morning.

as you stand in the elevator, waiting for it to reach your floor, the emotions you’ve pushed so far down decide to spring back up in the form of an overwhelming dejected exhaustion that makes you physically slump. you lean against the cool of the metal railing, shutting your eyes hard to avoid looking at yourself. you only pry your eyes open when you hear the soft ding of the elevator, surprised and once again embarrassed to see bucky standing between the open doors.

“y/n?” he asks quietly. his demeanor immediately changes when he takes you in, body softer in the way it always is when you’re with him. his reaction makes you fall deeper, which reminds you exactly why you were going on your failed date. you straighten, clearing your throat, “um- i have to get to my room.”

your voice is thin, heightening his worries and stopping you with a gentle hand to your arm before you step off the elevator, “what’s wrong? what happened? are you okay?” he asks, and you nod blindly at all of his questions, realizing that the longer you stay with him- with his warm hand that you can’t help but lean into pressed against your cold arm- the more you really want to cry and scream because it’s not fair that he’s been given to you, yet you can’t have him, even if he has you.

“i’m fine,” you lie obviously, forcing your eyes again from his. “y/n, what happened? you’re clearly not fine,” bucky pushes, the hand on your arm beginning to rub stressed circles into your skin. you give up then, looking back at him. “i got stood up,” you say finally, words cracked. you shake your head, “and i just spent so much time on everything and-”

“that’s stupid. who would stand you up?” bucky interrupts, eyes genuinely confused while you scoff. “apparently anderson from security,” you respond bitterly, looking away. “he’s stupid, y/n. he has to be to not go to a date with you.”

you exhale frustratedly, “maybe not. maybe there’s something wrong with me and i’m the stupid one for even thinking someone would want to go out with me,” you countered. “hey, no, you are- you are amazing, y/n. amazing and stunning and intelligent and he missed his chance to be the luckiest guy in the world,” he insisted, gently pulling your attention back to him with a gentle hand on your cheek. you give him a watery laugh through the loud, unfair questions in your head: why don’t you love me like i love you, then?

you don’t realize the tears that run down the streaks of already ruined mascara until bucky points them out, wiping them away with his fingers, “no, no, don’t cry, please don’t cry,” he begs. you can’t help it, though, biting your lip to hold back your unrequited confessions of love.

“nobody wants me. i don’t even think i want me anymore,” you weep, oblivious to the breaking of bucky’s heart when he hears your words, pulling you flush against his chest. “don’t say that, doll. that’s not true-”

“it is. what other reasons can you think of that explain why i’m the only one that’s shown up to the rare dates i’ve been on? why have i had to go on those stupid dates just to forget how pathetic i am that i can’t get over you?”

you’re too deep in the ocean of your thoughts to realize what you’ve said, too little light available in the dark to let you realize the hints you have and will undoubtedly let out if you continue blubbering into bucky’s shoulder like the mess you are. your feelings are scattered, words so disorganized that any way you piece them together will be a mistake. “why else does the one person who i actually want to love me back not want me?”

bucky can make sense of the words you’re saying, the heavy weight they carry when he realizes exactly what they mean, and what you imply. he’s frozen, heart simultaneously fluttering at the mere thought of his feelings being returned and breaking at the cries you’re letting out because of him.

he’s refused to ever be the source of your pain, restricting his own poems of confessions because he didn’t want to hurt you, never wanting to be the reason you cried. he supposes now it was the wrong choice, one he needs to fix.

the bead of insecurity buried stubbornly in his mind shrieks, however, because he’s as clueless as you are and can’t possibly imagine someone like you- so kind and pure and good- loving him back. so he needs to make sure, needs to hear you say it in your voice.

“what?” you let out a watery scoff, full of embarrassment rather than annoyance at him, “don’t make me say it, bucky, please-”

“please say it- i- i need you to say it.”

a beat of silence passes before you sniffle, pulling away from the man you’ve called your best friend and wanted nothing but to be able to call him more. “i love you, bucky. in a way that makes me pretty sure you’re my soulmate because i don’t even believe in that but you make me feel like i should.”

bucky’s storm clouds lighten, doubts dissolving when he listens to what you said, tasting your words and examining each one just to remember it. he pulls your lips to his when they’ve barely processed. “you should,” he says when he pulls away for a second, only to make you lose your breath again when he aches for you immediately, kissing you again, “believe in soulmates.”

“why is that?” you ask breathlessly, letting him pull you back in because you both have been waiting- dreaming about this for so damn long, and he isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to keep away from you now that he has you. he presses a sloppy kiss to your lips, so perfectly imperfect when your teeth clash and you both laugh gently, noses nudging each other when he leans his forehead on yours, “because we’re meant to be, y/n. in that way that soulmates are.”

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snackhobi · 4 years

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung goes through a lot of different phases.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jesus Christ.

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

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

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

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

And then you have a miniature breakdown at Pickles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… Anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

(You have the backbone of a chocolate éclair.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’s your shoulder feeling?”

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

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

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

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

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

Your luck doesn’t last.

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

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

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

“What do you think sounds best?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He just shakes his head.

“Okay,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taehyung?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(You’re going to die.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry.” He sounds genuinely apologetic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

(It’s not cool.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Better?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(What is he doing?)

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

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

“Taehyung.” Your voice is high and faint.

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

“Taehyung,” you repeat. Your voice shakes.

He hums, low and indulgent. “Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(But.)

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

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

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

“Taehyung.” Almost pleading.

“Yes, love?”

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

(You’re not.)

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

Before you can think, you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything you want,” he murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course you want to.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let me move.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Tae,” you beg. “More, please.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You got edible massage oil from your course?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You really are perfect,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, fuck—”

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

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

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

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

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs.

You pause.

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a pause. “Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taehyung?”

“Yes, angel?”

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

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

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

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

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

(“Hey, Pickles.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

taglist: @beyoncesdragon

#magicshopnet #btswritingcafe #taehyung smut #taehyung oneshot #taehyung x reader #bts #bts smut #v smut #v oneshot #v x reader #taehyung #taehyung fluff #bts oneshot #kim taehyung #taehyung imagine #taehyung scenario #bts fic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist

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hpalways · 3 years

Text

Broken Petals || Kazuha

Note: This is a hanahaki disease Kazuha oneshot! So heads up, angst is waiting hehe

Some days, he could hear it, crawling right out of him. Other days, it would be serene as the rippling waters below him. It usually altered between the two, distorting his reality for a few while the wind tickled his ears and the trees warned him of the inevitable. He was connected with the outside world, allowing them to guide him on all aspects of his life, because he longed for freedom. But this one very thing, he shrunk away from their touch, too stubborn to rescind the very thing that kept him going.

His eyes trailed to the [h/c] locks that furled with the breeze, to the gentle smile that was locked on your lips as you pulled at the wagon through the fields. Being the small townsperson you were, you worked in the fields of Inazuma daily until you had nothing left to lose. It was a difficult life, but most had no other choice, shouldering burdens to carry a family back home. Your mother sick and your brother too young, you were the one to take care of everyone.

But deep inside, he sensed something more from you. It was a longing of freedom, just as he did. Each time he approached you, he could hear relief in your breath -- relief from the harsh labor that always came to haunt.

"Do you need help?" he asked quietly, extending a hand to the handle of the wagon you lugged.

You shook your head, gratefully smiling nonetheless. "You know it's always going to be a no. Besides, I'm almost done anyway. Instead, why don't you tell me a poem like you do sometimes? That, in itself, helps me a lot."

Pondering for a second, he watched your figure for a silent moment, red hues drinking you in. That was what he always loved about you. You were so selfless, so graceful, and so beautiful. You didn't need to be a noble to show off such attributes to everyone -- you didn't need to wear silky robes to become the person everyone looked up to. Nothing you did was ever taken for granted, because you lived your life with a smile, despite never being able to achieve your true dream.

In the dark shed, he realized how tight spaced it was. Cheeks glowing warmly to be in close proximity to you, he stayed on the side to see you shoving the large wagon back. He dug his heels into the cool dirt when you turned to him, wiping sweat off your forehead happily. "No poem today? Aw, that's too bad." Stepping up to the samurai, you pat his cheek in a friendly manner. "Your presence was enough, so that's okay. Oh... I shouldn't dirty you in my hands. I'm sorry about that." Just as you were retracting your hand, he instinctively latched his fingers onto your arm to stop you. [e/c] irises widened momentarily, bewilderment coloring your features.

There was nothing romantic about this -- not at all rosy like the poems he made up with his thoughts on you. He let out a sigh and released your arm. "My apologies," he whispered, stalking right out of the shed before you could utter a word. "I need to get going now."

His trek back to his home was a quick one, with stealthy footsteps from all his training as a samurai. The sun was setting warmly, casting shades of orange and pinks across the skies in an ombre fashion.

Though each step was quick, the heavier it got as it went on.

He thought about the Vision Hunt Decree and how he would have to escape from Inazuma soon. No matter what, he couldn't stay here, not when all his aspirations were kept in his vision. After what his dear friend went through to fight against the Decree, Kazuha could never sit back and allow the officials to rob of him.

If he were to leave Inazuma, then there was one thing he wanted to do, to wrap things up and cut clean ties.

Arriving at his home, he walked into the cold building. Just before he could go in deeper, an unfathomable pain spread through his torso. Releasing a gasp, he crumbled to the floor, clenching his stomach and curling up into a ball. Salty tears clung to the corner of his eyes, blurring his vision and setting the world on fire. He was burning along it, fireworks going off internally, trickling red, red, and more red, that soon grew black.

His nails curled into the wood planked floors while he whimpered, the agony becoming unbearable. Getting into a fitful cough, every sound he let out wrenched at his soul, tearing it into pieces. They took their time, shoving an arm down his esophagus and cackling in joy at his suffering.

One last cough stopped the pain. Something flew out of his mouth, daintily spinning in the air like a lone ballerina. It was a petal, coated in thick blood at the edges.

Another one.

Numbly staring at the sight, he thought that it looked beautiful. It was almost as beautiful as you, a soft texture to its surface, yet stronger around the edges. It was almost as beautiful as you, but nothing could ever match your beauty.

He was going to endure this. For you.

The next day, he decided he had to rip the band-aid off. Time was less on his side by the day and soon he would have to leave.

Fortunately, today you had a day off, so you invited Kazuha out to stroll around the paths of Inazuma. Of course, he agreed to it, knowing that this was the opportunity he was waiting.

The two of you aimlessly wandered within the stretching paths, taking in the purple petals that sat prettily among branches and listening to the song of noisy birds. How stunning it was today, causing the corners of your mouth to lift up in sheer excitement. Your eyes lapped it up like a curious child running through the fields during free time, observing every little thing that failed to be inspected as a farmer. Staring at you, his heart squeezed. There was nothing more he wanted than to be by your side.

"The Vision Hunt Decree is growing stronger by the day," you suddenly brought up, sorrow taking over your usual face. "You're leaving, aren't you, Kazuha? I know how precious that vision is to you."

But you're just as precious to me, he wished to say. "Indeed," he said instead, glancing up to the wispy clouds. "I am being called to leave. I don't believe it will be too hard to sneak out of here."

Your eyes watered and you opened your arms to wrap him into a hug. Skin brushed silk and your fingers clenched tightly to his back, trembling in sadness. Your head leaned into his shoulder, breathing him in. He let out a breath in surprise, heart pounding at your warmth, your skin, your touch. "I will miss you so much. I will miss your poems and your comforting voice and the time we spent fooling around like nobodies."

That was when he came to a realization. He was selfish for holding onto you, for even thinking that you would come with him when so many responsibilities held you down. Your situation and his were different, leading you two onto separate routes, never to be met again.

He didn't want to let you go. It was driving him insane. It was driving him so insane a hand plunge into his chest.

"Sometimes I yearn for more than what I have... more than what I deserve," he muttered, pulling away from you and putting a gap to the distance from the light of his life.

"I do too," you agreed, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. "Come visit me when the Decree is over, okay? Promise me."

How could he give you false hope like that? Even if the Decree were to be lifted, how could he ever dare face you again after such heartbreak? He knew you didn't love him the way he did you, but he chose to stay ignorant about it. And now... because he came to terms with it, it stung like hell just to be by your side. "I promise," he lied, the words slipping from his lips like slippery honey running down. Too sticky to hold on. And too sweet to ever be true.

"I love you, Kazuha," you murmured, planting a kiss on light colored locks, the action erupting goosebumps all over his body.

Those were the words he dreamt of hearing from you. He cried because of those dreams, but he cried even more because the meaning behind them were not the kind he sought.

Soon enough, you left, your back turned on him and growing smaller in the distance. He watched you without ever taking his eyes off of you, feeling the same pain burst into his system. He continued to keep his eyes on you when he crashed onto the ground, wheezing in raspy breath. A waterfall of tears slid down his cheeks, combining into one at the bottom of his chin, his features contorted from torment.

He would endure this for you. Always.

A kick to the gut sent him reeling and he doubled over, hugging himself as he coughed, over and over again. A petal flew out... and then another...

A flurry of petals escaped his mouth, sprinkling the sky of petals. This was more than what he would normally get.

Coughing turned into hacking, succumbing him into the earth. He was being suffocated, suffocated by a love that was never his to begin with. With one last cough -- a clean petal rested on the side of his cheek, representing you. Fluttering his eyes shut, he decided that he would endure this, even death, for you.

#genshin impact #gender neutral reader #Genshin #genshin impact headcanons #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact scenarios #oneshot #Kazuha #kazuha x reader #kazuha oneshot #romance #love #angst #hanahaki #hanahaki disease #death #character death

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whom-the-hell · 3 years

Note

Can I request a Part 2 to the MHA arguments you posted? Like the S/O breaks up with them afterwards, coldly telling them off and never speaking to them again?

Part 3 of MHA arguments! (But with a twist)

TW: IN THE DABI HEADCANON/FIC THERE WILL BE GORE/BLOOD! IF YOU AIN’T COMFORTABLE WITH THAT PLEASE MOVE ON AND READ THE SHIGARAKI HEADCANONS!

Part 1: Here

Part 2: Here

Keywords used: Y/n: your name

Anime: My hero academia/boku no hero academia

Izuku Midoriya:

-”Sorry puppy...” he said with his head down and flowers in his hands.

-You look at him and sigh, giving him a disappointed look. “I think that it would be better if we just ended this relationship and forgot about each other...” You give Deku a weak smile, while he looked at you with wide eyes.

-His eyes started to form glossy tears, some of them already dropping from his eyes.

-”Y-You can’t do this Y/n! W-We can work this out! Don’t you see that I love you?!” Deku shouts, flowers falling to the cold cement ground.

-You look at him while trying to hold back your own emotions.

-”Sorry Izuku, goodbye...”

-And just like that, you shut the door at his face, making him cry even more.

-Texts and missed calls started to pop up from your phone, all saying things like: “Y/n, I’m sorry!”

“Y/n, please answer the phone!”

“Why aren’t you answering?!”

-Back at school things were even worse, Deku wasn’t the happy and motivated student he used to be before.

-He became dark and shallow, not talking to anyone. He started to miss training and didn’t even talk to All Might.

-Even Bakugou got weirded out by Deku’s weird behavior.

“Oi, Deku! Stop acting like a wimp and start training seriously!”

-Izuku also started to fail all of his classes, barely passing any of them.

“Hey Deku, do you maybe want to go and study with me, Iida and Todoroki?” Ochaco asked.

“No... I think I’ll pass...”

Katsuki Bakugou:

-Bakugou had a hard grip on your hand, almost hurting you.

-”Katsuki let go!” You shout at him.

-He grits his teeth and let’s go of your hand, leaving a small bruise on the side of your wrist.

-”Listen, I’m sorry for being such an ass, I didn’t mean to lash ou-” Bakugou started to say his apology but you cut him off.

-”I don’t think this is going to work out...” You sigh, clearly annoyed at him.

-He stares at you, not expecting for you to say that.

-“I think that it would be better if we just ended whatever we have going on before this gets worse.” You continued, looking Bakugou dead in the eyes.

-He just stood there, not knowing how to answer. His thoughts went blank, his mouth got dry, his body became limp. He didn’t want to lose the most important person to him.

-”I’m done Bakugou, don’t talk to me ever again.” You say and turned around, walking away from that now broken guy.

-He looked at your body making its way further and further away from him, your shoes making a clicking noise every time you take a step forward.

-And he just stood there, not knowing what to do. Should he chase you? Should he let you go? He didn’t know.

-After the break up, things didn’t go so smooth for Bakugou.

-He got nightmares about you, and not to remember you, he stayed up all night long, not getting a minute of sleep.

-He became more aggressive and his anger issues grew bigger, making himself unapproachable for others.

-He distanced himself from his friends and family, not speaking a word to anyone.

-If anyone ever annoyed him, he literally blew them up, not caring if he injured anyone.

Shoto Todoroki:

-Ochaco laughed at the confused look written across Todoroki’s face.

-”Don’t be shy Todoroki, now go!” She said.

-Todoroki tilts his head and looks at your window that is on the second floor. “Do I really have to do this?” He asks Uraraka.

-”Oh c'mon! You’ll totally get them to forgive you if you pull this off correctly!” She hypes Todoroki up.

-Todoroki sighs and starts to climb up to your window, where he saw you sitting on the bed while scrolling through your phone.

-He gently taps at your window, getting your attention.

-You slightly jump up, not expecting to see Shoto beside your bedroom window that is on the second floor.

-You open the window up, letting him in.

-”Hey Y/n.” He smiles slightly. His eyes glistening with happiness.

-”Is he happy to see me?” You think to yourself...

-There is a moment of silence between both of you. Even though it didn’t seem like that to you.

-”Shoto, I have to tell you som-” Not even letting you finish talking, he cuts you off.

“No, let me talk first. I had to tell you that I didn’t mean anything I said back there! I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, and I surely didn’t want to lose you. So please, forgive me...” He speaks.

-You look at him, your fists clenching together.

“Shoto, listen. I don’t think that I’m happy with you anymore. I don’t want to be with you anymore, I don’t...love you...”

-His heart dropped, his skin went pale, his eyes widened, his body went limp. He looked down and gritted his teeth, not because he’s mad, but because he was thinking on how to save this relationship.

-”Could you please, look through the window...” He said to you under his breath.

-And with confusion written all across your face, you looked through it.

-There you saw a big sign spelling out “I love you” in all caps. Your favorite flowers used as decoration for the sign, and Uraraka standing with something of what seemed to be a box of chocolates in her hands.

-”Uraraka helped me with all of this...” Todoroki spoke behind you.

-And you just stood there, shocked.

-”Get out.” You say.

-Todoroki looks up at you, scared of what will happen next.

-”Sorry...?” He mutters out.

-”I said, get.out.” You speak with anger in your voice.

-After that incident with you, Todoroki was broken.

-He didn’t know what to do and what to feel. A mix of sadness and anger would rush through him just at the thought of you.

-Todoroki didn’t really seem different at school, but at night shit would go down.

-He would literally scream into the pillow at night whenever he got dreams about you.

-Sweat would rush through his whole body just at the thought of you with another person.

-He would also mutter out your name whenever he’s sleeping, sometimes so loud that everybody could hear.

Tenya Iida:

-You walked out of your classroom and headed to the cafeteria with the rest of your friends.

-”Should I really break up with him?” You ask your friends that were walking right beside you.

-”If you aren’t happy in a relationship, what’s the point in having one?” Your friend answers confidently.

-”I guess you’re right...” You let out a sigh and continue to talk to your friends.

-Suddenly, you hear very fast walking behind you. That person was going at the same speed of only one person you knew.

-”Y/n! Please give me a minute!” I male voice yell’s out from behind you.

-Your friends look at you and then at the person behind you. “Good luck-” One of your friend's whispers to you.

-You stop and look behind you and yes, that was Iida.

-”Y/n! I deeply apologize for being such a horrible boyfriend! I am very sorry for the words that came out of my mouth that day, I did not mean one thing I said to you, and I wanted for you to know that I deeply care about you!” Iida bows in front of you while apologizing in a formal manner.

-People were passing by and looking at both of you, wondering what was going on.

-”Iida, stand up normally.” You let out a snicker.

-He looks up at you, with a look you’ll never forget.

-His eyes had deep, dark eye bags under his eyes, his hair was a mess, his uniform wasn’t as clean as it was before.

-”Iida... I’m tired of this. I’m tired of all of this. You keep making me feel like you owe me something by saying your apology. I’m just going to spit it out and say that I do NOT want to date you anymore.” You speak.

-Iida didn’t say anything, but tears started to form in his eyes.

-”I don’t think I’m happy with you anymore... I don’t think that...we are happy together. I think it would be better if we break up and each one of us could go different ways.” You continue.

-And just like that Iida’s legs gave up and fell to the floor, making him sit on his knees.

-Tears flooded out from his tired, but beautiful blue eyes as he made those weird hiccupping noises to breath.

-He didn’t say anything though, just sat there.

-”Bye, Iida.” You say and head back to the cafeteria.

-After the break up, Iida came back to his normal self. He focused on his grades and tried to forget about you, but he couldn’t.

-Just like Todoroki, things would go down at night for Iida.

-He would literally go out at 3am to the places you visited together just to remember you and your beautiful voice.

-He couldn’t forget about you even if he wanted to, you were too special to him.

-He started to look through your social media photos and look at you being happy, having the time of your life.

-Of course, I’m not saying that it would be easy for you after the break up, but I do think that Iida would suffer a bit more than you would.

-He also has a book where he wrote your name in if he ever remembers you... Yeah, he had to buy a new book...

Ejiro Kirishima:

-You walk out of the shower, relaxed and enjoying yourself.

-”I can’t believe it’s already night.” You think to yourself.

-Suddenly you see your phone vibrate and its screen light’s up.

-You walk up to it and place it in your soft hands, looking through your texts to see who was texting you.

-”Kirishima...” You sigh.

The text said: “Hey Y/n, long time no see, eh? I wanted to ask you if you could go to the town’s bridge right now?”

-You had a confused look on your face but decided to just get this over with and come to the bridge.

-You quickly dress up and head out to the town.

-”What could he possibly want at the town bridge...? I mean, I know it’s a beautiful place and all, but why there?” You think to yourself as you were getting closer to the destination.

-Suddenly you stop. “What the...” You mutter out.

-There were romantically lit candles all across the bridge, balloons flying all around you, rose petals scattered all across the bridge making a path to where Kirishima was standing.

-The moon was so beautiful and big, it seemed that it was glowing brighter than ever before.

-”Oh! You came!” Kirishima smiles at the sight of you standing beside the rose petal path he made.

-”What is all of this...?” You mutter out.

-”This? Oh, well I thought you would like it, so me, Denki and Sero decided to decorate it to your liking.” Kirishima says proudly.

-”Kir-” You try to say Kirishima’s name, but he cuts you off.

-”No, let me talk first. My so called ‘manliness’ and ego got in a way of our relationship, and I had to tell you that you are more important to me than anything in this world. I had to tell you that I love you, so if you could just forgive me, I promise that I would never hurt you ever again...”

-Great, now he makes a good apology and a romantically lit place. How can you break up with him when goes through all of this effort just to please you?

-”Just spit it out Y/n, you could do this...” You think to yourself.

-You look at Kirishima and notice his beautiful red eyes were glistening and he had a big smile on his face. -”Kirishima, I don’t want this...” You mutter out, not making eye contact with him.

-”What do you mean?” He says with a confused voice.

-”I’m saying that I'm breaking up with you Eijiro.” You say while gritting your teeth.

-Kirishima stood there, scared, confused, sad, broken.

-”W-What? You’re joking, right?!” He shouts.

-”No Kiri, it’s really over...cya later...” You turn around and head back home, tears forming in your eyes.

-Kirishima fell to the cold floor with tears overflowing his face. He cried and cried for about 10 minutes when he decided to stand up and clean everything up.

-Things got worse from there. He didn’t sleep, eat, study, talk or do anything for days.

-All he did was sleep in bed and cuddle up to a big pillow imagining that it was you.

-He cried, a lot. He got nightmares about you, he had hallucination's that you were right beside him and everything horrible was happening to him in the span of those 3 weeks you were broken up.

-Things did get a bit better when Kirishima’s friends started to take care of him, but he wasn’t the same after you left him.

Hanta Sero:

-It was another boring day in class, you were still in an argument with Sero, and nothing really interesting happened.

-”Okay calm down you brats and listen up. I will be gone for 5 minutes to go to the principal Nezu’s office. Iida, you’re in charge of the class. Make sure nobody pokes out their eyes with pencils.” Aizawa says in front of the class and shortly after, leaves.

-Of course, nobody listened. There was so much noise you can probably hear the shouting of the class from outside the building.

-Sero, thought it would be a good idea to apologize to you in front of the whole class, so, he did.

-He stood up onto his chair and shouted.

“HEY GUYS, CAN YOU PLEASE CALM DOWN A BIT I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY TO MY BELOVED Y/N!”

-Suddenly, the class goes silent. Iida kinda mad at Sero for standing on his chair, but he let Sero go.

-”Y/n, babe. I’m sorry for being so ignorant towards you and your feelings! I promise that I will make sure to spend more time with you than my friends, and I promise that I can make you happy with me again!” He shouts out so you can hear him.

-Blush started to form on your cheeks, not because you actually liked the apology, but because of embarrassment.

-Suddenly, everyone’s eyes were on you. Everybody cheering on both of you and waiting for your next move.

-”I-I...” You mutter out from embarrassment.

-Sero looks at you with pleading eyes, as if making you feel guilty for doing this to him.

-You’ve snaped and took Sero’s hand, getting him off his chair and heading out of the classroom.

-”What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Do you even realize how much you just embarrassed me?! Everybody are probably waiting for my answer to be ‘I forgive you’, but Sero I DON’T LOVE YOU!” You scream, realizing your voice was a bit too high.

-Sero’s smile drops, and a serious look appears on his face.

-”What, did you say...?” He asks, his eyes wide open.

-”I said, I don’t love you. I want a break up.” You sigh, feeling relief rush through your body.

-Sero didn’t answer, he just looked at you.

-”Hanta, goodbye...” You smile and head back to the noisy class.

-After class, he rushed to his dorm where he cried for HOURS.

-He wasn’t talking to any of his friends and made sure his door was locked.

-In the mornings, he didn’t eat, so his friends put food beside his door, hoping he’ll eat something.

-Depression and anxiety took over him and his thoughts, Sero didn’t know what to think nor do.

-All he wanted is to have you back, he didn’t care if you wouldn’t love him. Just, be beside him and he’ll be happy.

-He did talk to his friend, saying everything is okay when it clearly wasn’t.

Denki Kaminari:

-You get a call from Mina out of nowhere while you were doing your homework.

-”Hey girl, what’s up?” You answer the phone with a happy voice.

-”Hey there bestie! Listen here, I need you to come to my house pronto, I gotta show you some!” Mina says.

-And just like that, you arrived at Mina’s house, not expecting anything, BUT OHO HO OH NO. You were wrong <3

-As you take a step into her house, you see a light-yellow haired person sitting on the couch.

-”Haha, I forgot to take something from my garage, you just wait here.” Mina smiles and goes out of the house through the front door, closing it after her?

-You giggle and take a step into the living room where you saw him...

-”D-Denki?! What the hell are you doing here?!” You shout.

-”Y/n! Oh, thank god you came! Please listen on what I have to say!” Denki shouts back.

-”We have nothing to talk about Denki.” You answer him with a serious tone, almost sounding like you were angry and about to kill him.

-”Y/n, I love you! J-Just listen to me and my apology!” Denki says with big, pleading puppy eyes.

-You sit down on the couch, criss cross applesaucing your legs.

-”Baby, I’m SO sorry for being a terrible boyfriend! I know I didn’t spend much time with you, and I do know that you felt left out, so from this day on I swear that I will care about you even more!” He said, sincere words coming out of his mouth.

-But this wasn’t it. This, wasn’t the problem that got you angry at the first place. Did he really just have the audacity do apologize to you for something and not knowing what the cause of the problem was in the first place?!

-”Denki... Do you really not know why I’m mad at you?” You ask him, clenching your fists behind your back because of anger and disappointment.

-”Well, it’s because I didn’t give you enough attention...?” He answers, unsure of his answer.

-”KAMINARI, REALLY?! DID YOU JUST REALLY TRY TO APOLOGIZE TO ME AND NOT KNOW WHAT FOR?!” You scream at him.

-Denki sits there, confused and scared of what will happen next.

-”IT’S BECAUSE YOU KEEP FLIRTING WITH OTHER PEOPLE DENKI! IT’S BECAUSE YOU NEVER CARE ABOUT HOW I FEEL! HOW HARD WAS IT TO REALIZE IT?!” You continue screaming at him.

-Suddenly, everything goes silent. You run out of breath and patience, proceeding to say: -” I... I’m not happy in this relationship... Why the fuck would I date you, if you’ll just continue to flirt with everyone later on? Kaminari, I’m breaking up with you.”

-The world crashed underneath Denki’s feet. The feeling of pain proceeding to crash into him straight after.

He wanted to scream, but no words came out of his mouth. He was shocked, he was scared...

-”I’ll get going now...” You sigh and go out the door, meeting Mina on the way.

-”Sorry bub, I’ll check the thing out you wanted for me to see later.” You give her a weak smile and leave.

-Denki felt broken.

-He felt like everything amazing in this world vanished and the happiness he had once in his life vanished with you.

-He was calm at school, a bit too calm if you ask me.

-He didn’t talk to anyone and just sat there with a blank face beside his desk.

-But sometimes, he would leave the middle of the class to go to the bathroom and just cry there for the end of class.

-His friends would then find him and bring him back to the dorm for him to calm down.

-He would also shock anyone who touches him too, but it’s always an accident as he doesn’t expect anyone to touch him.

Hitoshi Shinsou:

-Finally! You’ve did it! You baked the fucking cake you tried to bake three times for no god damn reason, but at least now you feel accomplished.

-You look through your window and notice that it was already night time.

-”How long have I been baking for?” You think to yourself.

-Anyways, you cleaned up your kitchen and headed to your room where you changed into comfortable clothes and laid down on the bed.

-Suddenly, you get a bunch of texts at the same time and you feel like your phone is about to explode.

-”Who can be texting me at this hour?!” You mutter out and check your notifications.

-”43 UNREAD MESSAGES?!” God dang, who can be texting you so much? Did Sero get stuck on the ceiling again? Or did Bakugou explode Mina’s room?

-Thought’s ran through your head about who could’ve texted you but...you were wrong.

Shinsou:

*sad cat video*

*35 more, sad cat video’s*

----------------------------------------

-”Hello Y/n. How have you been? I had to tell you that I’m sorry for being such a terrible boyfriend. I truly love you, and I didn’t mean to lash out on you. *more smart words because I’m lazy to write anything bla bla bla, boom done*, I hope you can forgive me, and my terrible actions.”

-Is he actually serious right now?! Why couldn’t he tell you this in person?! Was he scared? Does he mean anything he just texted you?!

Y/n:

-Are you serious?! Why can’t you just tell me this in person?! What kind of apology even is this? Shinsou, if you would really want for me to forgive you, you would come and talk to me in person. How am I supposed to know that this is genuine?

Shinsou:

-This is genuine! I didn’t think you would like to talk to me in person so I just texted you-

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Does he really think you’re that stupid to forgive him, just like that? -You sigh in annoyance and text back to him:

Y/n:

-I guess this is easier. Well, if we’re on the topic of texting and saying things that come to our minds, I guess I'll just spit it out.

Shinsou:

-Spit what out...?

Y/n:

-Shinsou, I’m breaking up with you-

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

-There was no text back from Shinsou for a minute. You knew he read the message because underneath your text it said *read*

-”What could he be doing that he doesn’t text me back?” You think to yourself.

-Finally, you get a text back from him:

Shinsou:

-Alright.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

And just like that, you blocked his number and got back to bed, peacefully falling asleep and not thinking about what happened 5 seconds ago. Your body felt relief as you finally broke up with Shinsou and got this thought off of your chest.

-He on the other hand... Eh, let’s say he was not happy.

-Shinsou was mad, furious. “How could they break up with me OVER TEXT?!”

-He was angry at you and himself. “If I were a better boyfriend this wouldn’t have happened in the first place... But they could’ve at least broken up with me in person!”

-He got more sleep deprived than before, not getting a second of sleep.

-He didn’t cry, he didn’t get nightmares, but he did get hallucinations of you.

-He found himself thinking of you constantly. You were practically the only person on his mind 24/7.

-At school, he thought about just finding you and apologizing for hours.

-But, he didn’t do that. He was scared you were going to reject him and humiliate him in front of everyone. (His mind says “go apologize” but his insecurities said no <3)

Dabi: (ONCE AGAIN TW FOR SOMEBODY WHO HATES BLOOD/A BIT OF GORE! IF YOU AIN’T COMFORTABLE WITH READING SUCH THINGS, PLEASE CONTINUE READING THE SHIGARAKI HEADCANONS!)

-Your eyes flutter open, just to see a bright light of a lamp shining into your eyes.

-”Oh, god! What the fuck?!” You shout out, almost getting blind. (I would get mad too)

-You suddenly feel your arms tied up with something of what felt like a rope.

-”Oh, you’re awake. Took you long enough.” A male voice calls out you from behind you.

-Chills ran down your spine as you didn’t know what was happening. “What’s happening? Where am I? Who is that male?” thoughts ran through your head.

-Your start to try and move, but your legs were also tied up so you couldn’t do much.

-”Haha, you look so scared. Like a kitty taken against its will.” The male says, softly chuckling after.

-You didn’t say anything, not because you didn’t want to, but because you couldn’t. The fear that was growing inside of you didn’t let you even make a word out for you to say.

-The male moves the lamp away from your eyes.

-Finally, you can see! Your eyes adjust to the new lighting and your eyes open wide.

-The male, was your boyfriend...

-”D-Dabi?! What the hell are you doing?! Are you out of your god damn mind?!” You scream, shocked and surprised on seeing Dabi.

-”What do you mean? Were you never taken out on a date by your significant other?” He says with a big smile spreaded across his face.

-”Taken out on a date?! Do you think this is some kind of joke?! YOU KIDNAPED ME YOU FUCKER!” You scream at the top of your lungs.

-Suddenly, you feel Dabi’s hand holding your neck with a rough grip, slightly using his quirk and leaving marks on you. You couldn’t breathe, your eyes were rolling back into your head.

-”If you don’t want to be hurt, you better pick your words carefully before making me do something I might regret.” He says with a harsh voice and let’s go of you and your neck.

-You gasp for air while coughing your lungs out. “Is this guy out of his mind?!” You think to yourself.

-You hear Dabi sigh as he sits down in front of you.

-”Listen Y/n, I'm sorry. I know I might not be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had, but c’mon, how can you not love someone like me?” He gives you a soft smile and continues. “I love you babe, and I’m sorry.”

-You look at him, tears forming in your eyes.

-God, he really liked it when you cried. And as toxic as it may sound, he loved it when you suffered.

-”Well, what do you say? Will you forgive me?” Dabi asks with a grin stuck on his face.

-You look at him and then at the floor. “I think that... It would be better if we ended whatever this is. Dabi, I don’t love you, and it definitely doesn’t seem like you love me either.” You mutter out, but that was enough for him to hear you.

-He suddenly stood up, not saying a word, making his way to a table in the corner of the room.

-You look at him, confused. “What are you doing...?” You say, but he didn’t answer.

-He took something sharp from that table, almost looking like a knife.

-Chills ran down your spine as you thought of the worst situations that might happen to you at this moment.

-”My dear Y/n... You sometimes make such dumb decision’s I’m almost surprised at how stupid you actually are.” Dabi says as he makes his way closer to you.

-He then proceeds to go behind you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “W-What are you doing?” You mutter out once again, scared out of your mind.

-He gives you a kiss on the cheek and laughs. “I’ll miss you Y/n.”

-And those were the last words you heard before getting your neck sliced into pieces.

-Blood gushed out of the place Dabi stabbed you in, making it look like a fountain of blood.

-Dabi laughed at the sight of you desperately trying to breath as blood covered your entire body.

-”I told you to pick your words carefully baby.” He whispered into your ear and left you inside of that room, still tied up.

-After the incident, with you gone, Dabi became kind of relieved.

-He was happy you weren’t there to annoy him anymore, and he was diffidently happy about you not being there to ruin all of his so called ‘fun’.

Tomura Shigaraki:

-”Shigaraki, please go and apologi-”

-”NO! Why the fuck would I do that?!” Shigaraki yell’s back at Kurogiri that was trying to convince him to apologize to you.

-”I don’t know, maybe it’s because you haven’t left your room in over two weeks now? Or maybe it’s because you’ve suffered from the day you’ve got into an argument with Y/n.” Kurogiri says with annoyance in his tone.

-Shigaraki didn’t answer for a split second before saying: “How should I apologize to them...?”

-Kurogiri sighs in relief that Shigaraki finally gave into apologizing to you.

-”The easiest way is to go to their place and apologize there.” Kurogiri answers with a happier tone.

-”Okay, I’ll do it-” Shiggy answers and gets out of his room, running straight to the bathroom.

-”What’s his deal?” Dabi says, coming into the LOV hide out.

-”Young love...” Kurogiri simply says and leaves the room.

-Shigaraki took a shower, got his cleanest clothes on and started going to your place at midnight.

(-Why midnight? Idk, he felt like it.)

-”C’MON, GO YOU PUSSY!” Dabi shout’s out from the bush in your backyard.

-”WAIT, I’M GETTING READY!” Shigaraki shout’s back.

-”YOU BETTER GET YOUR ASS MOVING BEFORE I BURN IT OFF!” Dabi says once again.

-Shigaraki does an ‘ehem’ sound and knocks at you front door, hoping you would open it.

-To his luck, you gently push the door open, asking yourself why there was Shigaraki in front of you and Dabi sitting in a bush.

-”What do you want?” You ask Shiggy, harshly leaning you back at the door.

-”Hey Y/n. Long time no see? I uh... Um-” He stuttered, panicking about what to say.

-He might not seem gentle when you first met him, but later you realized he has a soft side, and this ladies and gentlemen, was his soft side.

-”I... I wanted to say um... I uh-”

-”If you aren’t going to say anything, I’m closing this door and leaving you in the cold.” You cut Shiggy off, clearly mad at him for wasting your time.

-”I’m sorry Y/n, I didn’t mean to lash out on you. I know I might be aggressive with my words at times, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” Shigaraki mutters out like a child apologizing to his parent’s.

-He then proceeds to carefully hug you, his hand’s wrapping around your shoulder’s.

-Suddenly, he feel’s himself being pushed away, and with confusion on his face, he sees hatred and disappointment in your eyes.

-”Who gave you the right to hug me out of nowhere?!” You shout at Shigaraki, making it clear you are not pleased by his actions.

-”I’m your boyfriend...?” Shiggy says, confused by why you asked that sort question.

-”Oh, right. I still didn’t break up with him-” You think to yourself.

-”Shigaraki, no, you aren’t my boyfriend. I thought I made it clear by not answering your call’s nor text’s, not talking to you and so on. Did you really think I would still want to be with you after I do all that?!” You shout out, breaking Shigaraki’s heart into a million pieces by the word’s that just came out of your mouth.

-You look him in the eyes and not saying a word before sighing and continuing your sentence.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

-Shigaraki did nothing. He only looked at you, admiring your beautiful facial features for the last time.

-”Goodbye Y/n...” He says and runs off to the dark street, Dabi following him from behind.

-”Thank god this is finally over with...” You think to yourself as you watch Shigaraki leave.

-Back at home, Shigaraki’s situation got worse.

-He screamed, screamed a lot. At night, in the morning, in the evening, afternoon, just at the thought of you.

-His eyes became more swollen than they were ever before, making his vision blurry from all the crying.

-He also didn’t visit the LOV and everybody started to wonder what happened to him.

-Shigaraki never got out of his room, and let his anger out by breaking everything he saw in the room.

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It’s over! It’s finally over! I deeply apologize to you my dear person who requested this, and also the people who were wondering why I didn’t post for so long.

My lazy ass really said: “let’s take it slow...” So, I did.

Anyways, I hope y’all enjoyed this!

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haik-choo · 4 years

Text

request: if you’re taking requests could you maybeeee do some make out scenarios or hcs or anything with the second years + hinata (only if u want to tho 👉👈)

a/n: ifc i’ll give you some make-out scenarios! the doctor recommended a hot boy (or girl ;)) a day keeps the sickness away ;P also if you ever want more detail, you can always ask for a part 2 ;)

[KARASUNO SECOND YEARS + HINATA MAKEOUT HEADCANONS]

-tanaka, nishinoya, ennoshita, hinata

tanaka ryuunosuke.

is SUPER enthusiastic,,,you can NOT tell me that this boy isn’t like a dog wagging its tail with a treat

he absolutely LOVEs it when you are under him and his body is between your legs and he’s practically laying on you, except his hands are cupping your face and his eyes are closed and weiofhweufh

he likes that position because he can easily move his arms to be on either side of your head and push himself up to look down at you as the light from the lamp or the light from the sunset illuminates your dewy and hot face

i don’t imagine him being very vocal, like it’s just a bunch of wet kissing sounds in my opinion. but he loves it when you let out little pleasurable sighs or mewls or just tell him that you like the way he’s kissing you,,,,honey it drives him CRAZY

uses a LOT of tongue okay I KNOW THIS FOR A FACT,,,,this boy likes to literally leave you breathless. sometimes he’ll tangle his hands in your hair and he’ll pull on it whenever you let out a cute sound

almost ALWAYS leads to a little extra somethin somethin ;) if ya know what i MEAN

if it doesn’t though, after you two are done he just lets out a big and shaky sigh and lays his head on your chest/boobs and mutters about how much he loves you

he lowkey forgets about your neck AAGAGAGA. like he just wants to kiss your lIPS bro, but he loves it when you drag your lips on his neck and give him hickies for everyone to see because he’s PROUD of them

rub your hands up and down his arms and he’ll be putty in your ARMS baby,,,,ask him to take off his shirt and he’ll COMBUSt my guy i SWEAR

(i have a headcanon where tanaka has some of the best skin in the team. like he would be one of those guys that just splashes his face with water but has never had a pimple in his goddamn LIFE)

nishinoya yuu.

okay okay i know that y’all might think he’s even more enthusiastic than tanaka,,,but get this: what if homeboy is...serious when he’s sucking your tongue

the prime time to makeout with noya is after he takes a shower and his hair is DOWn because hoT DAMn,,,like after his hot shower his skin is warm and his cheeks are pink and he’s just calm after a long hard day of diving after balls

he’s also another one that likes to be on top of you, but GODDAMN he also likes when he’s sitting up next to the headboard and you’re kissing his neck and leaving deep dark purple lovebites

his hands are always wandering your body, they’re not usually on your face, but he might tug your hair so that you expose your neck and he can mark you everywhere; but he prefers to have his hands rubbing up and down your sides and ass

i see him as letting out a little whine every once in a while, but mostly i think he pants because he gets hot and you’re hot and making out with you is hot and dAMN

his eyes get all half-lidded and he combs through his hair with his hand but it’s still wet and his forehead is all damp from the water droplets and his shirt around the collar is wet and cool against your skin

noya keeps his lips chapsticked UP, he wants his s/o to enjoy soft lips and he has them

when he’s on top of your making out, it usually ends at making out and you two just cuddle after a while, but if you’re on top of him it doesn’t always lead to sex sex but it usually leads to you giving him a handjob oOP--

bites your ears and just bites you in general, he had these really nice and big eyes and just imagines them looking up at you whenever he bites you and they’re all smug and wrieirgeorigjeriog

just clench his shirt and bring his lips up to yours and he’ll feel so wanted i can’t even --

ennoshita chikara.

loves you on top of him, you two are probably watching a movie and your head is on his chest but then your hands cup his face and’s putty in your hands

you brush your thumbs under his eyes and across his lips before peppering his whole face with kisses and then finally kissing his lips

his hands are usually on the dip of your back, but then as you continue to make out they end up going under your shirt and pushing it up as he caresses your whole back softly

making out is low energy and slow, it’s wholesome and soft and he just want to hold you forever. the pressure you put on his chest makes him feel safe and he just iojirgjeriog

he loves looking into your eyes every once in a while and LOVEs to praise you,,,,im talking ‘you look so pretty, baby” “your lips are so soft, they feel so good” “i don’t want you to let me go” like,,,,homeboy is ROMANTIC romantic

he doesn’t mean the praise in a dirty way the words just slip past his lips and they make both of you blush SO hard

lets out low hums of satisfaction and little chuckles whenever you make a sound of move a certain way against him,,,i don’t see making out leading to sex, usually it just leads to a really soft and lovey-dovey mood where you both just want to hold each other and are so grateful for having each other in your lives

but if you end up getting him super riled up, he’ll flip you ever so that he’s on top of you and his hands are all up in your shirt and lifting it up gently

his hands are probably super cold, and they raise goosebumps whenever they ghost across your skin, and he likes suddenly grabbing your bare side with his cold hands so you make a sound

totally the type to tuck your hair behind your ear as you pant and look deep into his brown eyes before he dips down and just kisses the shit outta you

hinata shoyo.

OMF it would start out as a simple kiss in his room but then he just wants more and so he cups your face and just keeps pushing back but doesn’t know it and then he’d end up pushing you onto his bed and he’d fall on top of you but that wouldn’t stop him

his hands are always intertwined with yours by your head, the more into he gets the tighter he holds your hands. i feel that he isn’t amazing at kissing, but he’s just so passionate that it makes up for it

when i say passionate, i mean he gets lost in the good feelings and ends up kissing you really sloppy all on your neck and chest and lips; he’s totally the type to bite your bottom lip and look deep into your eyes and not know what he’s doing to your heart

definitely makes high pitched whines and pants, throws in a few “please” and “you taste good” just to light your heart (and loins) on fire

please please please tangle your hands in his hair and tug him down to you and please please please flip him over so that you’re on top of him and kiss him silly

he’s likes to be playful and energetic when kissing, so he definitely nibbles everywhere and uses his teeth and tongue a lot. he’s totally bitten your tongue on accident before -- he’s the type to clash his mouth into you because he’s so excited that he clashes your teeth together

sometimes in the middle of making out, he’ll like realize what he’s doing and he just turns so red and stops and goes “i-is this okay? am i good? you’re really good but am i doing okay --”

doesn’t usually lead to sex, most of the time after like 15-20 minutes of heated kissing he just falls over next to you on the bed and waits for a minute before excusing himself to the bathroom, then he’ll come back and cuddle with you <3

run your hands up his chest, it’ll make him feel so manly and sexy; it’s such an ego booster for him !!! plus i feel that he’s just really sensitive everywhere ya know

SMILEY KISSES <3<3<3

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peeterparkr · 3 years

Text

red; tom’s version|two.

chapter two: the lucky one. “You don’t feel pretty, you feel used”

pairing: Tom Holland x Reader story summary: you’re reminiscing through your relationship a month after the heartbreak and breakup. Wondering if it went wrong from the very start when Tom arrived at New York, and him being a cautionary tale or if the problems came along the way. Perhaps the key to find back your way to him is going back through the nice things before the heartbreak came. Or is it too painful to go all over again?

chapter summary: bottle caps, a red scarf and two coincidences that probably mean something warnings: angsty a bit, cussing, word count: 6.7k playlist (updated after each chapter, including Red songs+ other for the chapter): Spotify | Apple Music

fic masterlist previous chapter next chapter

Present day. One month after the breakup.

Tom knew he had to stay quiet. Or rather, there was barely anything he could say while he was plotting his next words. He could barely believe he had a chance.

Walking down the streets with her quietly as he saw her, arranging her own thoughts. She had agreed to listen.

And he knew it was because whatever they’d felt, it made it worth it.

Y/N was angry. Not sad, angry. He had expected her to be crying. He didn’t want to be the reason why she would and he tried thinking he wasn’t. Though, deep inside, he was perfectly aware that he would be blamed for the tears that she’d shed in the last few months.

He wasn’t proud of that.

Guilt blinds. And Tom was blind in an attempt to shield. It was easier to shield on his own excuses that would serve barely as a plea to forgiveness.

Glares were directed at him. Her jaw was clenched and she had crossed her arms. The moment she’d realized what she’d agreed to, she’d turned stiff.

“Aren’t you cold?” Tom had tried asking.

“I don’t wish to speak to you.”

Fair.

And it was the middle of the night once again, how many times had they not walked under the stars with barely a destiny to reach. And now he was walking to his doom.

Y/N was mental.

In a good way. But the girl had taught him how insane you can be when it comes to relationships. In the best way possible, not as an insult.

Tom knew that he had fucked up. And he had been in New York for a while, though he hadn’t spoken to her directly, knowing that approaching her would only wound her.

It was colder now, Christmas was barely around the corner. In any other circumstance, it would’ve added to the romance.

Here it was just a bad omen of whatever would come next. The lights flickered as soon as they were walking past them.

“Are—are we not going to talk?” Tom questioned anyway. “I thought—“

Y/N shrugged. “I’m still deciding it, you see, I don’t know if I want to listen to you break my heart in an attempt of forged honesty.”

Tom dug his hands in his pockets. “I genuinely want to apologize.”

“And I genuinely don’t like you,” she snapped. “You see my problem?”

Tom sighed. “Fine,” he gulped. “But you are cold, that thing isn’t covering your neck or chest.”

Y/N had gone for a rather inadequate option for a cold winter day. Though Tom would agree that the black dress had been yet another punch to his stomach, all of course with an attempt to make him regret it, it was still rather unsuitable for the freezing city. But she looked stunning.

Her coat barely covered her, and her crossed arms were probably more of an attempt to warm herself and it served as a clear exposition of her anger.

She didn’t answer, however.

“You could wear this,” Tom offered, showing her the red scarf that once belonged to her. Tom liked to think that it now belonged to them.

The red scarf that had become a token to their relationship. From the very first day.

Y/N looked at it, and reluctantly took it. “It’s only because I’m cold.”

But Tom wanted to think it wasn’t only because of that. Wearing the scarf meant she was opening a door for him.

Seeing her again had been quite different from what Tom had expected, her hair was different and her makeup too. Her gaze seemed lost.

Whoever was standing beside him didn’t seem like her. She was a stranger, a very familiar one. But there wasn’t that visible spark that he’d fallen for. Not that he wouldn’t be able to love the figure in front of him but he feared he was the reason for its disappearance.

“It smells like you,” y/n whispered as she wrapped the scarf around her neck.

Tom smiled, briefly. “I’ve been wearing it. Your own smell wore out,” he regretted saying that. “That sounded way too creepy or cheesy.”

“Both, somehow,” she agreed. “Don’t ever say that kind of shit again.”

Tom gulped a chuckle, “noted.”

There was still that y/n in there, the one that liked the kind of cheesy things that he could say. The ones that came up at the right moment. Though, there was still that y/n that didn’t take any bullshit.

Tom hadn’t gone exactly through diamonds and sparkles after the breakup. And the city was now quite different from when it had first received him. Now covered with dark smoke and trash, with only skeletons of trees.

Guilt drowns. And Tom was, undoubtedly, drowning in a drought. Everything had dried off yet he felt like he could barely breathe.

Knowing you’re the reason for someone’s hurt is no fantasy.

And he was broken, too. Very, very broken. However, he knew he was seen as the bad guy here and he wouldn’t call himself less, and he wouldn’t admit he was aching too.

So he was trying to ignore it.

Her apartment building hadn’t changed. Not that Tom had expected it to, but it was nice to come to a familiar place. He noticed the stairs were still rusty and unclean and creaked as he walked in. New creaks had come in that he hadn’t memorized yet. He hoped he would have the chance to.

Y/N stopped at her door, with more questions than answers to give him.

“I really don’t know if I can do this,” she admitted to him. “But I know that if I don’t give you a chance to explain yourself I’ll never forgive myself.”

“That’s fair. But…I’ll do whatever you want me to, but please let me explain it to you,” he begged. “I—If you want me to leave New York and never come again I’ll understand.”

Y/N crossed her arms and leaned against the door, a red door that would open to memories he couldn’t quite forget.

“I already said I would listen,” she recalled. “But—“ her eyes met his, they looked tired. “I am having an inner monologue on why this is stupid.”

“Care to share?”

She took a heavy breath, “Well, you see, Tom, if that even is your real name…”

“Really? You’re—“Tom tried hard not to roll his eyes. “Yes, my name is Tom.”

“Tom….”

“Holland.”

“Hm, interesting. Holland, I remembered it being something else. You’re a liar, just making sure,” she said. “I’m—I just feel stupid. Because I shouldn’t be feeling this way for such a short relationship, is that even—was it? Can we even call it that?”

Her words felt bitter to Tom’s own tongue. He understood why she was defensive. “Yes.”

“Well, I don’t fucking know, maybe we confused whatever we were feeling with love, or—“

“I didn’t—“

“Could be easy, Tommy, you’re an actor, actors, as far as I know, act, and man did you play such an amazing role,” she snarled as she opened her door, leading the way. “Be quiet, by the way, I don’t want to wake up Lula or Jules.”

Tom walked in into what seemed a messed snapshot of how he remembered the place. It was the same, in essence. But sadder. The apartment still had a few sweaters here and there, and y/N’s notebooks all over it.

He could see Lula’s leftovers in their coffee table and some candy wraps that Julia had probably been eating while reading her book.

He turned to that one corner and saw it, the jukebox that had been what had defined y/n’s and his relationship. He dug his hand into his pocket to search for the locket y/n had given back. Tom squeezed it as he searched in his pocket for something else.

Guilt kills. And Tom was dying.

“Here,” Tom said as he reached out for three beer caps in his pocket, “I brought these to you,” he offered them to her, knowing there were jars full of them.

Y/N collected them. Or rather, it was her latest collection that she’d later use for her art. Or whatever she was into at the moment.

The apartment was small. It had two bedrooms which they all shared. They’d rotate whoever had the luck to have the single room. So small. And yet it felt so big.

Y/n pursed her lips but then took the beer caps and placed them on the counter.

“We’re going to the roof,” y/n said. “I’m just getting us some wine—No,” she shook her head, probably realizing that having wine would make the moment a tad more romantic or cuddly than she expected it to be. “Make yourself useful and make some tea, I’ll go change myself, I’m freezing.”

She’d brought blankets and a hoodie he hadn’t remembered he had left. They didn’t have to go to the roof, Julia was staying with Matt and Lula was not back yet from wherever she was.

She had stayed quiet, for a bit. Cuddled up in the same couch where they—

“Do you like your tea?” Questioned Tom.

She looked up. “Yeah, you can add that to your many talents. Right before lying.”

“I make better tea than lies? Good to know.”

Y/N shrugged. “How long have you been here?”

“A… few days,” Tom admitted. “I have been trying to walk up to your door but I keep getting lost in the subway, and when I did come here I panicked and cried.”

Y/N shrugged. “I thought I saw you, the other day,” she said.

“Oh?”

“It wasn’t you,” y/n confessed. “So I just yelled at a poor stranger. I—I genuinely feel sorry for him.”

Tom tried not to chuckle. “What did you yell?”

“I called him a bastard and asked what was wrong with him,” she scrunched her nose. “Not my proudest moment. I was kicked out of the bus.”

Tom gulped. “I’m sorry,” he took a deep breath. “You can yell at me if that helps.”

She shrugged. “No, I think I’m good, I let it all out with him,” she grimaced. “But I might just—“she picked up a pillow and threw it at him with barely any energy.

“Fair enough,” he nodded. “But I can be your punching bag, I deserve it,” he admired. “I see the jukebox,” Tom said, motioning to it.

She shrugged. “Yeah, would be stupid if you didn’t. It’s quite big. Barely any space left.”

Tom chuckled. “I meant—“

“No, no, I know what you mean. I’m trying to ignore it,” y/n admitted. “I notice it too, every day. Almost threw it away.”

Tom nodded. “Why didn’t you?”

“Well, it’s a very functional jukebox, the music on it,” she said. “It would be stupid to throw out something like that.”

Tom had expected a different answer, one rather more romantic. Like, that maybe throwing it out would’ve meant throwing him away.

“Right. I’m surprised the cops haven’t come for it.”

She smiled.

She… smiled?

She smiled.

Tom hadn’t thought he would see it again. So comforting. And genuine. Not forced.

“It’s not stolen,” she reminded him, “not really.”

Tom decided to smile back, but to himself. He couldn’t really look her in the eye.

“I guess I also kept it for the same reason why you kept that stupid scarf,” y/n added. Quieter now.

Tom took a deep breath. “It’s a fashionable accessory.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “It’s been out of fashion for 10 years.”

“Trends come back.”

Y/N looked up. “Not when they're horrible, no,” she said with a heavy breath. “I don’t—“She shook her head. “No, we can’t do this.”

“Do what?” Tom questioned.

“Talk like you didn’t break my heart,” she snarked, gulping down her thoughts. “I always knew your heart never truly belonged to me, you know?” y/n said, holding to her mug. The tea was probably cold now. As so were they.

Tom was taken aback by that statement. “I—at the beginning—“

“No, it never truly did. Not completely.”

“I—“ but Tom didn’t have an answer to it.

The night was cold and New York was still awake. But it felt like it was them and only them even if they felt like oceans apart. He hated it. The first time he’d ever been truly lucky he had run out of luck.

Y/N watched him. “I always knew it was meant to be for a short time and I didn’t need anything more, I somehow knew that you’d hurt me,” she explained.

Tom had never meant to go this far. “I never meant—“

“Imagine if you had meant it though, how crushed would I have been. It wasn’t your intention, and yet I ended up crying on the floor,” she said, ironically

Tom couldn’t say more but an “I am so sorry.”

“I know you are,” she said. “I hope you are.”

Tom stared at her, “I am.”

Y/N directed him a single glance. “I don’t think you understand, Tom. This month has been the shittiest in my life.”

Tom didn’t have enough words to apologize. Or he had too many to say. Instead, he could word out anything.

“The worst part is that you also gave me the best fucking days of my life,” she continued. “So I’m at a crossroads here. Because there’s a part of me that thinks it was all bullshit and there’s also the part that knows it couldn’t be.”

Tom watched her. “It was not bullshit,” he said. “It was real.”

“That’s the worst part,” she pointed out. “I think, yeah, all of it being real then it makes it hurt even more because that means I lost the best thing to ever happen to me and you lost something so real.”

Tom nodded. “I lost the best thing to ever happen to me, too.”

Y/N was, without a doubt, the best thing he’d never looked for.

“Did you lose it because of me? Or did you lose me?” She quickly questioned, raising her brows.

Y/N was also a murderer.

“Well,” she took a deep breath, ignoring his sight as he was trying to know how to Answer. “You better start explaining yourself.”

“Before I—I… I… Right, well—Before I came here—I—Ella—“

She closed her eyes. “Actually, no.”

Tom paused, in fear.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, we will….” Y/N tried arranging her thoughts. “Tell me from the moment you hopped on the plane.”

Tom stayed quiet.

“I need to know how it looked from the moment you arrived, not… before, although I’m risking the fact you’re an unreliable narrator.”

“I am a terrible narrator,” he admitted.

Two months before the breakup. Tom’s version.

Tom remembered how little it had taken him to make the decision to escape. He had decided to escape from what everyone told him he should love.

With a backpack, his passport and a half ass made suitcase, he had hopped on the first flight to New York. No regrets as it had taken off. Sweet Escape airlines had been so kind to him.

Not telling anyone about it. To their eyes, he probably was only late to a party, and they’d see him in a few minutes with an excuse of an apology.

Yet, he was on a plane. Escaping from the perfect life.

They always said how lucky he was. Didn’t they? How incredible it was to have what he had. Because he had everything.

And he was running away from it. He watched the people on the plane, his seat was unflattering, next to an old lady who seemed to be rather impolite.

He remembered when he had made the decision to run out, the night before, a camera flash had blinded him and time had suddenly stopped. Just a few hours before hopping on the plane. Everyone expected him to do something he was not ready for. Everyone thought it would come.

Even Eleanor.

Especially Eleanor. Ella was probably counting only the minutes for his arrival. He had promised her he would be there.

No one could ever judge Tom for the decision he had made. Well, everyone would. But Tom liked to believe they couldn’t. As a technicality, that is. That they had absolutely no right to do it.

His parents wouldn’t be proud of it. Too bad.

Tom was nervous, though. The decision had been, undoubtedly, rushed. He hadn’t shown up to that early brunch.

Still wearing a suit, with a white buttoned shirt unbuttoned on his neck. He had still almost gone to that brunch in that FancyAss restaurante.

A brunch? He thought to himself. How incredibly out of character it seemed, he had become a caricature of whatever they wanted him to be.

Did he have to apologize to Eleanor? He didn’t want to.

He really didn’t want to.

He looked at his phone, Harry was calling him. A few other texts from his mother, too. Two missed calls from Ella. Probably wondering why he was late. He hoped they didn’t wait for him, for he would never arrive.

New York was a bit far from it.

The whole flight had been him trying to figure out if it was a good choice.

But he was given an ultimatum, and when those come you have to decide.

His decision was to go to New York. And it was the best choice.

It was, of course, but it was alright to doubt it. It was not likely of him to simply run away.

He didn’t have it all figured out. And that’s why he was clutching his backpack. He was chasing a dream that he didn’t even know he had.

Maybe that’s why he was running away. He didn’t know who he was. But of course he had heard it, how he looked like a million bucks. And he had said it to everyone else the night before, how the stars looked like diamonds in the skies.

He was making a name for himself, he knew that. Or rather, they were making a name for him. And he didn’t know who he was.

The flight was rather short, or maybe Tom barely had any time to think about it.

Running away from his own country, from his family, friends and from Ella, whom he barely had a title for right now.

The city was quick to receive him with bustling crowds, people pushing and rushing. But also opening up as he was walking in. Dancing around him.

How magical. He thought to himself as he tried texting Harrison, hoping his best friend wouldn’t mind receiving him at his place.

Tom managed to get a taxi that was waiting right outside the airport.

He hopped in and grinned to himself proudly. He was there.

With a new city ahead of him and no one expecting anything from him. With no one telling him what to do, with no one giving him an ultimatum and no one with orders for him.

“Where to?” Asked the taxi driver, as he stared from the mirror.

Tom, though he was not proud of it, was having a moment. “I’m running away from my life,” Tom explained. “don’t you ever get tired of the role you’re supposed to play? Like you were not meant to play it but now you’re too stuck in it.”

“Man, I'm sorry, I ain’t got no time for that kind of poeticbullshit, I need an address.”

The moment ended quickly. “Right. Sorry. I’m an idiot… uh, it’s this one.” Tom had to look up for Haz’s address.

“Every time,” the driver sighed, chuckling. “Why do y’all think New York is some sort of magical city that will give you the answer to whatever you’re going through.”

Tom’s smile widened sarcastically, “Well, isn’t it?”

“Guess it is, in a way, but I’ll tell you something,” the driver stated, “whatever you think New York will give to you, it'll be the very opposite. It won’t be what you want but it might just be what you need.”

“Oh really?” Tom chuckled, “who’s the one with the poetic crap now?”

“No, I’m messing with you, damn all you tourists believe that kind of thing huh? New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of huh.”

“It’s what we’re sold,” Tom gave in.

“That sounds pretty, don’t it? To not get what you want but what you need.”

“It does.”

In a way, he was right. Tom would’ve thought he needed a break. To escape. That’s what he wanted right?

But what did he need?

The city welcomed him with a short rain, the water reflected the twinkling lights, as the shadows were reflecting the life he had left behind. The people rushed with their coats, as they were off to their lives. And it felt like he was finally breathing.

Although he would not share his thoughts with the driver again, Tom thought this was what he needed. A new start with no one that would judge him.

That’s probably why he’d chosen New York, the people are too busy living their own crazy lives to focus on someone so insignificant like him. He didn’t have to be whoever he was before, the pretty face, the cool guy everyone liked.

No, he was a guy in a stupid cab, and not to be worried if they said he hadn’t chosen a better ride, on a bigger car.

No, no announcement of whatever he was going to do on the papers because his dad had arranged it.

No, now he was but what he always wanted to be. One of those cautionary tales that they tell about people who go mad and escape and live.

He was a legend now.

Maybe they were right, he was lucky. He was lucky because he had finally made it out of there.

And he saw the lights, with Broadway shows waiting for him, with new adventures coming. With a new life that he wanted to create. The Broadway signs changed to Tom’s sight.

‘A very new life for the Lucky One.’ Starring Tom Holland.

A new beginning.

Maybe he was lucky. Though he never wanted to be in the spotlight. He constantly was, though.

Except, of course, for the fact that Haz hadn’t really answered his text the way he wanted to.

Haz probably didn’t believe Tom that he was in the city.

He would just knock at the door then.

“Well man, I hope whatever kind of role you want you get it,” the driver had said as Tom had hopped off.

Harrison’s building was far from fancy. Harrison had often described it as an ‘affordable pigsty’. Tom wouldn’t describe it as anything else.

But it was perfect. The perfect stage for his new charade.

Tom carried the now heavier backpack and suitcase up and was lucky enough that someone had entered the building so he could go up and show up uninvited to Haz’s apartment. If he could call it that.

He knocked, two times and Haz opened the door.

“Piss off, you’re not actually here!” Was the way Haz had decided to greet.

Tom laughed. “I fucking am.”

“You bastard,” Haz grinned before pulling his friend into a hug. “No way, I didn’t believe you. Man, I’m so glad to see you!”

“You too, man your place is…” Tom couldn’t finish.

“A pigsty but it’s home, I’ll make some place.”

And they had.

Haz had left a few years ago, with a dream in his head and a chance to make it. Or… a chance to get a chance to make it.

Leaving London had been quite such a simple decision for him. An inspiring actor that could’ve made it back at home but decided to leave for New York? It was stupid, honestly. Very anticlimactic of him.

But like Tom, Harrison had to escape before he was pulled in.

Just like Tom had been, tangled up. Tom’s ‘big break’ had yet to come but his family had managed to get him to the rising star he was.

He loved what he did, acting was definitely his true passion but not like this. Not buying his way into parts, not going out with someone so he could be considered. Hanging around with the right people just so they could get him a role.

Haz had gone for plays instead, and Tom knew he was fantastic. But he also had to get his big break. The industry had a funny way to say this.

“So, you just left?” Haz asked with a beer in his hand as he’d taken Tom to his favorite bar. Beers were cheaper there, and given that it was a Thursday, the happy hour lasted longer.

The bar was different from what Tom had expected. An old jukebox that was playing odd songs, colorful things. Very odd.

“I bloody just left,” Tom admitted. “What was I supposed to do?”

Harrison rubbed his face, “I dunno.”

“I couldn’t keep pretending,” Tom said, as he played with the bottle. “I—It wasn’t me.”

“But didn’t you just get cast in—something important?” He questioned.

Tom sighed, “Not for talent, no.”

He had seen a girl walk up to the jukebox and pay again to play “Twist and Shout” by The Beatles, she moved her head along to the song.

“Man, who bloody cares?” Haz rolled his eyes bringing the attention back to him. “You’re getting somewhere! You look pretty, you’re cool, and you’re getting somewhere.”

Tom knew where Haz was coming from. Things were going perfectly, one could argue. But it didn’t feel real. It was just a game of make believe where Tom had eventually been dug in.

“It wasn’t that,” Tom admitted. “Ella gave me an ultimatum.”

Harrison stopped, probably now understanding more why he had left. “And how do you feel about that?”

Tom stared at his beer. “Not how I’m supposed to.”

Harrison watched him. “One can only pretend for so long.”

“Yeah,” Tom sighed as he undressed the beer bottle.

“Does anyone know you escaped?” Haz asked.

Tom grimaced, pulling out his phone, turned off. “No, well, Harry knows, I told him I had left but didn’t tell him where to,” he said before unwillingly turning it back on, to show the billion notifications popping up. Multiple text messages, missed calls. “I need a new phone so I can keep this one turned off.”

“I think you should tell someone, otherwise they’re going to call the police or something,” Haz suggested.

Tom sighed, “Before I do let me go get another round,” he said as he headed to the bar.

Though Tom should’ve known right then and there that his life would change, he was very oblivious as he saw a couple. The beautiful girl sitting right beside… some guy. The very same girl who had played ‘Twist and Shout’.

She wasn’t smiling anymore, and Tom could only interpret her stare as something unpleasant. The guy and her were both stiff.

Tom couldn’t blame the guy because he was often criticized for also being like him. Not being able to make the beautiful girl beside him smile. Not understanding her worth and brilliance as anyone else in the room did.

She had dressed up, it seemed, just for her very date and he was just… there. The guy was simply an unuseful accessory adorning her side. His eyes were glued to the TV on the bar, a program that seemed to be very uneventful.

Tom often liked overhearing conversations, and this time wasn’t an exception.

“I recently discovered my new collection,” the girl said. Tom noticed the scarf on her neck,“I will start collecting bottle caps.”

The guy looked over, “Is it going to be for your new project that you’ll never finish?”

“I will finish it,” she said as she took off the scarf, now playing with it, tying and untying it. “And I’m going to ask Ben here to save me as many as he can.”

“Y/N,” the guy said. Pretty name, thought Tom. Fitting. “You never finish them.”

“Art is never finished, William,” the girl, y/n, defended again. “It’s only… abandoned.”

“My point,” The guy, William, rolled her eyes, “You never get through with them.”

“I do,” she defended herself. “You just never pay attention to it.”

Tom watched her frustration. Even then the guy wasn’t really into the conversation. He didn’t blame him, really. But he was more on y/n’s side.

“I think you should pay attention to more important stuff. Instead of wasting your time doing whatever.”

“Art isn't whatever,” she sighed, and then frowned, noticing Tom was watching them.

“I’m not saying it’s whatever, y/n, but you’ve got to have other dreams rather than collecting beer caps.”

Y/N looked away, “It’s for a painting.”

“A painting you’ll get bored of eventually, it’s always the same, y/n,” the guy was still too busy with his own beer watching the TV.

Y/N clenched her jaw but then directed her glance at Tom, still intrigued by the conversation.

Tom cleared his throat as he finally got his beers, the guy opened them for him but Tom asked for the beer caps.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help but listen,” Tom admitted before giving her the beer caps. “Good luck on your project.” The girl finally smiled as the guy accompanying her glared at him.

Tom shrugged and dedicated them both a smile before going back to Harrison. Had Tom been William he would’ve appreciated that someone made his girl smile, it was a waste not to share her smile with the world.

And Tom, out of everyone, understood what the girl had said, people bringing him down were always for him so to have genuine support from a stranger would help her. And him.

Yes never getting anything done but still having a passion for it was accomplishment enough.

“So what’s your plan?” Haz asked as soon as he was back. Tom watched the girl, still.

“I have none,” Tom admitted, watching as y/n and William were still arguing, probably now over the fact that Tom had left the beer caps. He didn’t feel guilty, even when both of them were pointing at him as the argument kept going. “I will just—Get a break for a few days. A well deserved vacation.”

Haz watched him. “Right.”

“You know, be a tourist,” Tom shrugged. “I—I dunno I just needed to get out,” Tom sipped from his bottle as his eyes were glued to the couple, now arguing loudly but not loud enough to be understood.

Haz followed his gaze. “What are you looking at?”

“Dunno, they’re odd,” Tom shrugged. But they weren’t really. He just saw his future, so uninterested to the girl beside him.

“Not really, you should get used to that,” Haz said. “But—You’re going to tell Harry, right!”

“Problem is,” Tom brought back the attention to Haz. “I don’t think Harry will be able to keep the secret.”

Harrison crossed his arms. “What are you really doing here Tom? You do realize that you’re hurting everyone—“

“Yeah, yeah fuck that, I know, I feel guilty. But—I can’t anymore. I couldn’t fucking stay there, not anymore,” Tom snapped. “It’s not Ella’s fault. Well not entirely but—“

“No, I know,” Haz rolled his eyes, “guess the perfect life can get boring.”

Harrison thought so too then. That Tom had the perfect life. How was it perfect? How was it really? Tom was not perfect. He was far from it, nothing about it was spectacular. He wasn’t living. Even though everyone around him thought he was having the time of his life Tom couldn’t help but feel miserable.

He wasn’t getting what he truly wanted. He didn’t enjoy the roles he was getting or the parties he was attending. He was far from what his dream was. And though his ‘breakout’ would come eventually and he’d have the chance to be who he wanted to be, it wasn’t coming any time soon and he doubted that he’d be able to be happy.

Or maybe he would be. He needed a break.

Tom caught up with Haz, his life, his misery and whatever the conversation led to, it’s fair to say that Tom’s head could barely pay any attention. His decision was sinking. He’d escaped his life.

He saw the girl from before leave, with the guy following her with frustration.

“They’re gonna break up,” Haz said watching them too.

Tom saw the girl had left the unfashionable red scarf behind.

He expected them to come back for them but they didn’t.

Eventually, Tom and Haz left. Tom picked up the scarf. He tried to say that it was a little reminder that he’d helped someone. He had actually been drawn to it. He couldn’t explain why. So he kept that idea.

Of course, he’d seen the red scarf and then regretted instantly taking it. Haz had judged him too.

“Why the fuck would you pick up a stranger’s scarf?”

“Because.”

The next day, with very little sleep and a bit of a headache from the jet lag and the beers, and after telling Haz he’d be productive, he decided he wouldn’t be and instead he wanted to visit a museum. Again, he was unsure as to why he wanted to go there. Lately he only followed his instinct.

But then again he had escaped so he could do whatever he wanted, and going to a museum seemed like something they’d never expect him to do. So that’s what he did.

But of course, he didn’t know much about art or anything so he decided he’d end up at the MET. Where else would he start?

He had planned getting on the subway but he decided he didn’t have time to memorize it and he didn’t want to look like an idiot so instead he took another cab. He didn’t tell the drivers this time any poetic bullshit.

When he got to the MET, he was immediately lost. Tom had this stupid habit of never knowing where the hell he was.

He didn’t mind this time. He would take the time to explore, to think to himself. To stare and read and to learn a little.

How ironic it seemed to be at the place where so many people were at. Basic, maybe but he was still enjoying it.

The big walls and endless exhibitions were making him feel small. And he hadn’t felt that way in a while. He liked that.

His path wasn’t being decided and he only followed his heart. He got to the musical instruments exhibitions.

A piano made him stop. It resonated with him. In some sorts, or it was interesting enough for him to make him stop.

“That’s the oldest surviving piano,” a voice mentioned from behind.

Tom blinked, realizing he had stared too long at it. “Oh?” He looked back at the voice and though Tom did not believe in coincidences he couldn’t help but think this was an oddly magical one.

The beer cap girl from the night before.

“Yeah, it dates back to 1538 and was created by—pardon my pronunciation—Bartolomeo Cristofori, the Italian man who is credited with inventing the piano,” she said, staring at it too. Her hair was slightly messed up. Wearing an overall that was covered with slight paint stains, a white cardigan over it.

“Oh, I would’ve never thought that,” Tom said. “It looks old.”

“Yeah,” she hadn’t looked at him, she was too entranced by it, her arms were crossed. “It's very old.”

Tom stared at her instead, how weird it was. He should’ve brought the scarf. No, that would’ve been weird, weirder than taking it.

“So you work here?” Tom questioned.

“No, I’m just incredibly good at lying,” she stated.

“Wha-what?”

“That fact I gave you, yeah that was a lie,” she grinned and finally turned to him. She tilted her head.

“Oh it sounded… very real,” Tom felt like an idiot.

“Yeah, I’ve worked on that for a while, lying to tourists, you’re my first one of the day,” she said. “So, a pleasure lying to someone with an accent.”

“It sounded very real,” Tom cleared his throat.

“I know, it’s a real fact, just slightly twisted,” she grinned. “I gave you the date wrong.”

Tom coughed. “Oh.”

“Yeah, and you straight up believed me,” she grinned. “The date is right there yet you listened to a random weirdo,” she grinned.

Tom blushed, “well, you sounded very—“

“No, don’t feel bad, it’s an art, lying to people,” she grinned.

He nodded in agreement.

She watched him curiously, “Do I know you?”

Tom faked to not recognize her. “I don’t think so.”

She narrowed her eyes, examining him head to toe. Then stopping at his face. “No, wait, were you at Bennie’s Beer Garden last night?”

She had recognized him.

“Uh—I was at a bar,” he decided to fake ignorance. “Oh—“he snapped his finger. “Wait are you—?”

“Beer cap girl, yeah,” she smiled. “Yeah, that was me, but I looked better last night.”

Tom smiled, “No, you look fine.”

“What a coincidence, thanks for the beer caps, by the way,” she chuckled. “How weird, and now you’re the first one I lie to.”

“It’s a pleasure, thank you,” Tom laughed.

“You must think I’m crazy, collecting beer caps and lying to strangers,” she blushed now, stepping back from him.

Tom did think that. In a good way. The girl seemed to be whatever he wanted to be: a fucking weirdo that don’t give two shits about anything in life.

“Surprisingly, no,” Tom shook his head. “I would lie to people instead if I was good at lying.”

Ironic, it seemed. Didn’t he make a living out of lying? Didn’t he technically lie his way through life?

“Yes, it's very tiring work, people say they don’t like being lied to,” she said. “I do, that’s why I love reading whatever is trending on twitter.”

Tom cackled, and turned his attention back to the piano.

“I’m y/n, by the way,” she mentioned casually.

“Tom,” he answered simply.

Y/N nodded. “So, Tom, what's your favorite lie supplier?”

“I watch movies,” he said, “or celebrity gossip.”

“A classic,” Y/N grinned. “Yeah, we all choose the lies we want to believe, I guess.”

“People like that, believing lies and feeling like they’re true,” Tom gave in. “Especially if they’re pretty. They help us escape reality.”

Y/N nodded slowly, and smirked. “We are getting deep now, huh?”

What the fuck did New York do to Tom that he randomly said poetic bullshit to strangers. He was embarrassed. “I—sorry.”

“No, no, I like that,” y/n was excited. “I guess you’re right. Lies are a way to cover something.”

“Yes, sometimes lying means protecting,” Tom bit his lip.

Y/N tilted her head. “Is it really?” She didn’t want to agree. “I would say lying is a way to actively hurt someone.”

“Well, were you trying to hurt me with your lie?” Tom challenged.

She licked her lips, defeated. “In a way,” she gave in. “I was trying to misinform you. So.”

“Well, what if the truth hurts more?” Tom questioned.

Y/N took a deep breath. “Then it’s a paradox.”

“Excuse me,” Someone interrupted them. “I’m sorry, y/n? I thought you weren’t coming today.”

Y/N smiled, “oh yeah, I wasn’t, I just forgot something in my locker and decided to walk around.”

The other guy turned to Tom. “Did she give you a fake fact?”

Tom chuckled, “she most certainly did.”

“Y/N, you can’t keep doing that,” the guy warned her. “You’re gonna get fired.”

Y/N grinned as she watched the guy go.

“I thought you didn’t work here,” Tom chuckled.

Y/N smiled mischievously, “I do, just another lie I said to you. You’re very lucky, two lies in one.”

Tom chuckled. “huh. Yeah, lucky me.”

“Yes, now if you’ll excuse me, little British man,” she grinned. “I’ll go lie to other people, nice lying to you.”

Tom grinned. “Yeah, yeah, nice… believing your lies.”

“Enjoy the Met,” she grinned. “Hope I get to see you again, thanks for the beer caps.”

“Thanks for the… lies,” he said, watching her leave. Maybe he was lucky.

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crystalirises · 3 years

Note

FundXD au thrid part? Maybe the final confrontation between Dreamxd and George? imagine George offering to take Fundy's place, but XD teases him because he obviously only loves Fundy now (before Mumza saves the day!! or whatever you had planned if you already had something in mind).

Not me accidentally posting it separately. But anyway, here's the third part! I'm sorry it took so long, hope you enjoy this.

But yeah anyway, please do take heed of the trigger warnings. This is probably now what I consider the darkest and the most uncomfortable one-shot I've written. Like in terms of themes, yeah I am just: oh wow I wrote this huh...

So yes, please do heed the warnings and do not read it if any of the the warnings make you uncomfortable.

TW: Forced Relationships, Forced Kissing, Forced Marriage, Possessive Behavior, Captivity, Implied Harm, and A Lot of Dark Implications

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28886223/chapters/84740365

“A radiant day for a wedding, do you not think so, my fox?” If only the mattress could swallow him whole. He buried his face on the silken sheets, pressing the pillow to the top of his head, wondering if he could suffocate himself if he tried really hard enough. “Beloved? You’re quiet.”

He rolled his eyes, holding back the urge to scream.

After a moment, he felt the twist of vines against his ankle, gently pulling him away from underneath the covers. Fundy let himself be dragged, having learned the hard way that clawing at the bed to keep himself from getting dragged was a bad idea. He shuddered at the bad memory.

“My darling star, don’t you agree that today is a splendid day for our wedding?”

No, he did not agree. There was no day where he’d ever even consider marrying the god.

“I don’t feel well. Can we move the wedding?”

“Do not lie.” The room turned colder, the chill of ice piercing through his skin that he nearly buckled underneath the pain. Then in just a second, the cold was gone. He was still in his their bedroom, the sunshine filtering in through the glass-stained windows, bathing the room in a kaleidoscope of color. XD was holding him by the elbow, their spherical head never faltering in its cheery smile, if one can call it a smile. The god pulled him into their embrace, holding him with such warmth that Fundy wanted to cry. They shouldn’t be so comforting. “You are well.”

“Ya…” Fundy felt like throwing up, “...well…”

For a god who had lived as long as the world, XD was not as patient as Fundy had hoped. It had only been a week, but the god had given up on Fundy’s flimsy excuses. Fundy had used every excuse that he knew: headaches, fevers, coughs, even “fainting” that one time XD had actually gotten him to stand on the altar. They had grown tired of waiting. Fundy turned his head towards one corner of the room, their wedding outfits only seemed to mock him. He shivered within the god’s hot touch, XD didn’t seem to notice his discomfort, but they noticed the way he was staring at those, arguably, beautiful outfits. XD led him towards them, holding him by the arms.

“I could change your suit if you wish, anything for you, my fox.” Fundy paled, refusing to look at the suit now that it was in front of him. It was in a beautiful hue of orange pastel, decorated with a pastel green flower pinned to its chest. XD had chosen to wear a dress for the wedding, and if Fundy wasn’t being held there against his will, he might have even blushed at the thought of the god in a dress… walking down the aisle. It was a mostly white dress which faded into a pastel green in the middle and into a forest green at the bottom. “You could wear a dress if yo—”

“No.” Fundy already loathed the suit, he wouldn’t know what he’d do if he had to wear a dress. At least XD didn’t mind, though - and Fundy knew it was stupid to feel - he found it somewhat adorable that XD wanted to wear a dress. The wedding dress suited them, even if Fundy didn’t want to marry them. The god hummed behind him, a low sound that had no lyrical or musical tone to it whatsoever, before picking him up. He shrieked, holding tightly to the god’s shoulders.

“My dear fox, the wedding will be divine, it shall take place the hour between day and night.” Fundy had a few hours of freedom. Then… He clenched his hands, angered that he no longer had his claws to tear into the god’s skin. “The wedding venue has not changed from the last time we tried to marry, but, sweet fox, would you wish for any new changes? What do you wish for?”

His only wish was to go home.

The god leaned down and Fundy knew what was to come. He closed his eyes, letting the god do what they wanted. Maybe he should have heeded his papa’s advice. Maybe he shouldn’t have befriended the god who seemed too kind to be true. Maybe he should have stayed at home and lived a normal life instead of searching for… he didn’t even know anymore. But he knew he missed his home, he missed his dads. He missed the normal life in their little cabin in the fields.

Once the god leaned away from the kiss, Fundy let out a sigh. “I want cake.”

---

“Wil, I love you, but now is the time for your ritualistic shenanigans.”

George tapped his foot on the muddy ground, placing his head in his hands as Wilbur ignored him for the tenth time. Wilbur had refused to say what his secret was, in favor of showing what his secret was. If George had known that said secret would involve Wilbur drawing intricate symbols in the mud, George would have gone deeper into the forest on his own instead.

After a few more seconds of agonizing silence and waiting, Wilbur finally stepped back, gesturing for George to come near him. He raised a brow, choosing to stand beside Wilbur despite the nagging voice in his head telling him to leave and go look for their son. George took in the symbol that Wilbur had drawn. He’d traced a circle in the mud, and within the complex lines, George could make out five symbols. The lines merged to showcase a woman. In her right hand, she held a blade. In her left, there were musical notes and discs emerging from her palm.

At the bottom of the symbol, the lines converged to create a pair of angel wings.

“Wil, is now the time to show me that you can draw—” He cut himself off once Wilbur started to chant under his breath. He stepped back, doubt racing through his mind. George had never been interested in magic, being more talented in redstone and engineering, but he feared those who excelled in the practice. Magic meant gods, and gods meant double-edged deals. “Wilbur…”

The symbol began to glow a light gray hue, the smell of metal and death tainting the air. His fear doubled, but he didn’t try to run off. Nervous as he was, he trusted Wilbur, his dear husband.

A splash of cold landed on his cheek, he brushed it away, but then a downpour of rain began to fall around them. The ground turned muddier, nearly grasping onto their legs. George looked up, furrowing his brows at the sight of sunlight. It was raining despite the warm sun rays that were filtering in through the trees. The intricate symbol wasn’t affected by the sudden storm, its glow intensifying underneath the torrent of water. George didn’t know why, but he felt sick. A sickness that wasn’t nausea, it was worse. Like someone had taken a sharp pickaxe and started to chip away at his heart. He held a hand to his chest, grasping for Wilbur’s arm with the other.

Wilbur’s chanting had grown louder despite the rain, almost like he was fighting against the noise. The light gray glow had taken over the entire drawing, the lines scorched away by its brilliance. Then the world began to shake, and for a moment, George could hear screaming.

He slipped once the earth started to sink. Wilbur pulled him up just as the ground gave way, the symbol had caved in, going deeper and deeper until he could see bright red. He shuddered, but Wilbur held him close. He had half a mind to throw his husband an irritated glare. If his husband would stop with the theatrics for a moment and actually tell George what his secret was, then maybe he wouldn’t be second-guessing everything that's happening right now. He glanced back down at the hole. Wilbur had just opened a gateway to the underworld. Despite the red lights of the underworld, the chasm let out a chilling cold that seeped deep into George’s skin and soul.

“You’re a hellspawn, is that the secret? If so, it was not much of a secret I already knew that, Mr. Soot.” Wilbur rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss to George’s cheek. Once Wil had left George on stable ground, he watched as his husband walked close to the chasm. Wilbur reached down a hand. George wondered if Wilbur was asking to get kidnapped. “Wilbur, the dead can’t help us.”

“You’re correct. Zombies are pretty shit at… everything. Skeletons… perhaps.”

George took a breath through clenched teeth. He knew Wilbur was worried about Fundy too, but he couldn’t afford to waste anymore time with Wilbur and his shenanigans. XD had taken their son, a wish god had taken their son and George knew the god would refuse to let Fundy go.

“Wilbur, please. We need to find Fundy. XD would do anything they could to keep our son from ever leaving them, we have to go.” He pleaded, but Wilbur was too busy looking into the chasm.

George loudly sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The rain continued to pour around them, and if he didn’t hurry, he’d lose his way down the forest path due to the mud that was beginning to drown everything in its path. He turned to leave, but then a voice broke through the silence.

“A sunshower…? Did you forget to tell your own mum that you're getting married, Wilbur?”

---

Fundy flitted about the room, pressing his hands against his ears as the rain continued to pour outside. He didn’t know why XD had thought it would be romantic to marry one another while a storm threatened to destroy the land, but the constant tapping of the rain on the ground was beginning to grate on his ears. Despite the heavy rain, he hated the warm sunlight even more.

Why couldn’t the weather just be either gloomy or happy? It was a mockery of his life.

He glanced down at his suit, fixing the green flower so it wouldn’t fall off by accident. He didn’t know what XD would do if anything were to ruin their “special day.” He huffed, pressing his head against the glass window. He could see the neverending forest from there. XD had insisted that they live on one of the highest trees in the forest. They wanted to give Fundy a good view.

When XD had first shown him their abode, Fundy had been ecstatic to see the entire forest. He collapsed on a nearby chair, putting his head in his hands. Now everything felt like a big joke.

It was so wonderful before, but he saw through the roses, and now knew their thorns.

He looked back up, worried for a moment that XD would be standing in front of him, ready to whisk him away to the altar. There was a shift of movement at the right side of the forest, perhaps XD reimagining the wedding venue now that the rain had completely ruined the god’s chosen outdoor setting. He took momentary pleasure at the thought of the weather going against the god’s wishes. No, today was not a radiant day for a wedding. But Fundy knew that a “little” storm wouldn’t stop the god. They were too excited, too eager to get the ceremony over with.

Fundy winced, maybe his constant escape attempts had been the cause of that rush. It had only been a week since the god had taken him captive and kept him in their domain, but Fundy had spent every day trying to find a way to escape. He’d given up after the fifth escape… after… Fundy pulled his knees close to his chest. He didn’t want to think about it. But he had to. He had to keep a reminder in his mind about how much he loathed the god and what they’d done to him.

The first attempt wasn’t even an attempt, it was him screaming until XD forced him to sleep.

The second attempt had begun the moment the god had gone into stasis, or the godly equivalent of what was sleep. The god’s hands were wrapped around Fundy, keeping him close to their chest, but Fundy had managed to sneak away after hours of slowly moving. He’d gotten to the door of the bedroom, unlocking it with a bobby pin that he’d found in one of the drawers. He’d gotten down the tree by the time XD realized he was gone. They’d teleported him back to the bedroom, vines growing against the surface of the door, effectively keeping him locked inside.

The third attempt was Fundy painstakingly cutting through the clump of vines after XD had left him to prepare for their wedding. He’d gotten through half of them by the time the god had come back. They’d been disappointed in Fundy, sad that he hadn’t even gotten dressed in his wedding suit yet. Then in a blink of an eye, the vines had grown back, with even more thorns than before. Then XD had whisked him away to the wedding venue, where Fundy then pretended to faint.

The fourth attempt was Fundy getting so frustrated that he took a chair and threw it at one of the windows. The glass shattered on impact, and he’d quickly tried to squeeze through the space, not caring for the shards that pierced his skin. XD had not taken that escape attempt all too lightly.

The fifth and last attempt… he’d convinced XD to give him some sand and gunpowder.

The god had been furious, even more so than what they’d been after the fourth escape attempt. Fundy had nearly killed himself in the process and had even attacked XD out of anguished rage.

Well… XD made sure Fundy could never attack them again.

Fundy sniffed, wiping at his tears. He didn’t want to be crying at his own wedding.

---

It was odd to have a wedding without a wedding officiator. Fundy kept his gaze on his hands, his fingers trembling each time XD traced his knuckles with their thumb. He could feel his throat dry up, his head heavy with nausea that he thought he was actually going to faint and fall over.

“Do I take Fundy Lore-Soot as my lawfully wedded husband?” XD paused, “I do.”

Fundy found it ridiculous. XD had taken up the mantle of wedding officiator, and if Fundy didn’t know any better, he would think that he was part of some comedic play or some big cosmic joke.

“And do you, Fundy Lore-Soot, take the god of wishes, XD, as your lawfully wedded spouse?”

Fundy gritted his teeth, he could feel the god’s magic in his throat. He could barely breathe a few seconds ago, but now it felt like he needed to speak like his life depended on it. “I do. I do. I do.”

He trembled, uncontrolled anger racing through his veins. It was torture to say ‘I do’ once, but the god forced him to say it three times, like Fundy was as desperate as them to get married. XD pulled him close, their gaze hot against his skin. He wished he would melt, that he could melt against the god’s touch and be swallowed by the grass. Anything that could set him free.

“Then by the power vested in me as the god of wishes, I now pronounce us married for eternity.”

The god leaned close, “I may now kiss the groom.” Fundy tried to move back, but the god had formed one more pair of hands. One hand held his hands, curled gently around his wrists. One hand was cupping him by the waist. One hand was on his chin, pulling his face up and towards them. The last hand was at the back of his head, pushing him forward and keeping his head in place. He closed his eyes, losing himself in his mind, refusing to accept what was happening. He focused on the life he’d lost, and his dads who would no doubt why he never came back to them.

After what felt like a lifetime, the god finally let him go.

Well, they didn’t. But they’d stopped kissing him in favor of picking him up.

XD laid him down on the altar.

Fundy blinked, holding onto one of XD’s hands out of fear. The god chuckled at the “endearing” display. “H-hey… the wedding’s over, ya? Time to head home, right? W-what are you doing?”

“The ceremony is not yet over, my star.” XD tilted their head, “You are still mortal.”

Any thread of cooperation they had established broke with that proclamation. Fundy screamed, pushing himself away from the altar just as a series of golden chains rose up from its sides. They wrapped around his arms and his legs, pulling him back down on the altar’s marble surface. He wailed, tears slipping past his eyes. He thought he’d only endure it for this lifetime, that the god would have no choice but to give him up to death at some point in the future. XD watched his struggle, summoning an intricate dagger. “Don’t worry, my sweet fox, I shall make it painless.”

“I OBJECT!”

---

George pushed past the leaven doors, not caring that the action caused the whole entrance way to collapse to a flimsy pile of autumn leaves. He stood at the end of the wedding venue, drenched from the rain. His heart beated loudly in his chest, his ears ringing as he made his way down the aisle. Wilbur was still by the entrance. George had told him to wait before he actually entered.

“Papa—” Fundy’s scream was cut off with a hand, the god having swiveled around to face whoever had dared to ruin their perfect day. George kept walking down the aisle, anger racing through his bones. His son looked so frightened. He clearly didn’t want to be marrying the god.

“Let him go, XD.”

“Why ever shall I do such a thing, my dearest friend, Georgenotfound? I have no intention of ever letting my newly wedded husband leave me. My old friend, I believe you are a few seconds too late. Fundy and I are married.” He heard Fundy scream out a protest, muffled by the hand that the god had left. George could see the tears on their son’s face, and his gaze turned towards the dagger that the god was carrying. He took the chance to look behind him, catching Wilbur’s pale gaze. His husband was looking at the dagger. “Leave before I cast you out. You are tresp—”

“I’ll take his place.”

The only sound that could be heard was Fundy’s fit of screaming. Wilbur was silent. XD had merely tilted their head, the god’s cold gaze meeting George’s eyes, piercing right through the goggles that he wore. He swallowed down the sickness he felt at the thought of marrying the go. XD had been his best friend once, and George had never thought of them in any other way. But the god had taken his friendship as romantic affection. “Fundy doesn’t love you.” The god reeled back, the ‘XD’ carved symbol on their head disappearing, only to return as golden chains that surrounded their white spherical head. “You and I know he doesn’t love you, and neither did I.”

George shook his head, “But I am willing to stay with you if you let him go.”

He met his son’s eyes, holding Fundy’s gaze for as long as he could. He worried it might be the last time they’d ever see each other again… if it went wrong… George shook his head. It won’t go wrong. He turned back to the god, the chains still present. “We could pretend like nothing has changed. I could stay here with you for all of eternity. We could be friends again, you and I. It must have been lonely when I left. You were never really great with making friends with others. We could try again. Just you and me, stuck in this forest forever. Like how it used to be. I won’t run away anymore. I won’t leave you ever again. Let Fundy go, and I’ll stay with you forever.”

The god was silent. For a moment, George thought they would agree. Then the ground disappeared from underneath him and a large hand was painfully gripping him by the leg. “No.”

Sharp cold pierced through his leg. The god glared down at him, “You are nothing to me.”

XD looked over at Fundy, “He… He is everything to me now.”

George placed his arms over his head, preparing himself for the fall. He heard the loud screech, and then his leg was free. He closed his eyes, but instead of hard earth, he fell into a pair of warm arms. He opened his eyes, embarrassingly laughing once he’d realized that Wilbur had caught him. His husband placed him back down, looking at his leg with worry when George stumbled. It wasn’t broken, but XD’s sharp cold magic would keep him from properly walking for a while.

Wilbur helped him away from the angered god. George looked up, watching as the hand that was previously holding him rotted away. XD screeched, turning to them, their golden chains glowing with a blinding light. A scythe appeared within view, striking the wish god right on their face.

The Goddess of Death entered the wedding venue, a disappointed look in her eyes.

“You should have let my grandson go, God of Wishes.”

=============================================================

Ambiguous ending but uh... I have preferred ending and it's def not the bad one.

Clarification for the title (which can't be seen here but is in the ao3 version): So a sunshower is a weather phenomenon where it is raining despite there still being sunshine. While the rain is not as heavy as a storm, I changed the rain here to be that like a rainstorm despite the sunlight that is still present. The reason for this is because where I'm from (or at least according to my mother) when a sunshower happens, that means a kapre and a white lady are getting married (or well, other Filipino mythological legends are getting married).

I just think with XD here being a somewhat monster of a god... well, poor Fundy having to marry him.

The sunshower is basically an indication here that a god is getting married, that's why Mumza asked Wilbur if he was getting married (also Wilbur is the god of music here, not all that powerful against a wish god).

#fundy #dreamxd #dreamwastaken dsmp #fundywastaken #fundXD #wilbur soot #georgenotfound dsmp #georgebur #goddess of death kristen #dream smp fanfiction #dsmp

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yellowsuitcase · 3 years

Text

Bliss // Draco Malfoy

Request: i was thinking it would be really cute if the plot is like it’s draco and y/n 1 year anniversary and they’ve never ya know and so they both decide they’re ready before their anniversary rolls around so on their 1 year he makes the day special and all romantic and the room with rose petals and everything and is super loving and careful and sweet with her since it’s their first time

A/N: This sat in my drafts half-finished for so long and I fINALLY got around to finishing it, thank god. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: It’s Y/N and Draco’s one year anniversary and they have big plans.

Warning(s): SMUT!!! Loss of virginity (male & female), swearing, (pretty) soft sex.

Word Count: 2.9k

{Not my gif}

Y/N’s leg was jumping up and down as she sat in her last lesson. She’d been anxious the entire day. It was early March, the second to be exact. This happened to be her and Draco’s one-year anniversary, and the pair had big plans for that night. A few days ago, Draco had asked Y/N if she was ready. It wasn’t hard to figure out what he was implying. They had agreed early into their relationship that sex wasn’t a must-have for them. But after a year of being absolutely infatuated with one another, they decided their anniversary would be the perfect day.

Now that the day had come, though, Y/N realized she was terrified. She feared it wouldn’t be good that she wouldn’t be good. However, she also knew she loved Draco and that if he truly loved her too, she had nothing to worry about. Her anxious thoughts were interrupted by the bell. Without hesitating, Y/N dashed from Flitwick’s classroom and started making her way towards the library. Draco had explicitly instructed her not to come to the common room until after dinner, so she had quite some time to kill. What better to do to distract her than burying herself in her schoolwork?

Y/N took a seat at a desk in front of the far-end bookshelves. Snape had assigned yet another essay. With a sigh, she pulled out parchment from her school bag as well as her quill and got to work.

-------

Y/N woke with a start. She found herself lying on top of her essay, a bit of drool had dribbled onto it. Hastily, she wiped her mouth and took in her surroundings. She was still in the library. “Fuck,” she muttered. The sun wasn’t in the sky anymore; the only light in the library was from the sparsely placed candlesticks. Y/N sighed and began packing up her things, ready to take a nice shower before bed. However, as she was stuffing her quill back into her bag, she remembered Draco. A steady stream of cuss words flew from her mouth as she jumped up from her seat and ran out of the library. Fuck, I’m gonna be late. Will Draco be upset with me? Fucking hell, how did I even fall asleep? She asked herself as she dashed down the dungeon steps.

Soon enough, however, she arrived at the door to the Slytherin common room. She uttered the password and practically threw herself through the entryway, causing some Slytherins to look at her. Y/N paid them no mind; she made a beeline for the boys' dormitory, not stopping until she reached Draco’s room. It was only then that she was able to take a deep breath and prepare herself for what was to come. She was feeling so many different emotions all at once; excitement, anxiety, eagerness, fear. Yet, despite all that, she placed her hand on the door handle and turned it open.

She was expecting to see Draco sat at his desk, but what she saw instead brought tears to her eyes. The room was dark, only lit by candles. Soft music was playing from a record player, and upon looking at the floor, Y/N saw scattered rose petals that led all the way to Draco. He was standing across from her dressed in a casual yet charming green sweater, his hands behind his back. “Hi,” he said. Y/N, whose hand was over her mouth, shook her head.

��Draco, this is...you didn’t have to do this,” she replied as she began walking towards him. He, too, started walking until both of them met halfway. Y/N looked up at him and saw him smiling at her fondly. Then, he drew his hands from behind his back and presented her with a red rose. She gasped and gently took it from his hand. “Draco, I don’t know what to say. I didn’t have time to grab your present, I fell asleep in the library, and I thought I was gonna be late, so I—”

Draco placed a finger over her rambling mouth, silencing her. “You are all I need. And I don’t care that you’re late, you’re here, and that’s what matters,” he whispered, pulling her close to his chest. Y/N released the tension in her shoulders as Draco began stroking her head, his arms wrapped around her, making her warm. She felt so unbelievably lucky to have a boyfriend like the one cuddled against her. Of course, she’d heard about romantic gestures such as this, and she’d definitely seen them in movies, but never ever did she think someone would do it for her.

Slowly, Y/N felt Draco pull away. She looked at him expectantly and watched as he gulped. He looked nervous. “Are you ready, love?” he asked, his voice barely audible. Y/N could see that he was afraid. She nodded and took his hand into hers.

“Okay,” he breathed. “I must admit I am a bit...afraid, I guess.” Y/N was shocked that he had just confessed this to her. Typically, it would take hours of poking and prodding to get Draco to admit he was fearful of anything. Yet, he’d just willingly declared it to her. She planted a soft kiss onto his knuckle.

“I am too. But I trust you,” Y/N assured him. He couldn’t fight the toothy smile that appeared on his face.

“I trust you too,” he replied. Y/N held her breath as Draco leaned in close. She closed her eyes and felt herself melt as he pressed his lips against hers. Her arousal had been growing all day, and despite her nerves, she couldn’t help but moan when he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She felt him smile as his hands found her waist. A shiver ran down her spine as his cold hands slid upwards beneath her school shirt. Y/N kissed him eagerly, but Draco retained his slow pace. His hands caressed her body as they searched for her bra. She gasped into his mouth as his nimble fingers found it and shakily unhooked the clasp. He dragged her bra off her shoulders and down her front, pulling away to toss it elsewhere.

Y/N found herself growing confident; she reached for Draco’s sweater and yanked it upwards, successfully untucking it from his pants. He laughed as she pulled it up and off his body, leaving his chest bare. Giving in to her temptations, she put her hands on his chest, feeling his heated skin.

Draco pulled her against his body and dove his head forward, connecting his lips with Y/N’s neck where he began sucking. She closed her eyes and started rubbing her thighs together, desperate to hurry things up, but Draco wasn’t having it.

“Slow down, darling. We have all the time in the world,” he told her, his voice sweet and comforting. Y/N groaned as he reached behind her and grabbed her ass, squeezing it playfully. He ignored her pleas for him to touch her and instead began undressing her further. Her shirt went first, and Draco immediately felt her breasts, kneading gently.

"For a virgin, you are quite eager, aren't you?" he teased, making Y/N blush.

Y/N loved the feeling of his hands on her, and she found it pretty funny how his eyes gleamed at the sight of her tits. But then his hands traveled downwards, fondling the hem of her skirt. Y/N looked down, waiting for him to pull the fabric off her, except he didn’t. Instead, his finger guided her face upwards. He laughed at her confused expression.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked as he tapped her clothed hip, a smirk on his lips. Y/N nodded, she knew what was coming, and even though she was afraid, she knew Draco was gonna make her feel good. With her permission, her boyfriend slipped his fingers into the waistband of her skirt and her panties. He kissed her gently as he slowly pulled the fabric down her hips, her thighs, and all the way to the floor. Y/N blushed; she was now acutely aware of her nakedness and couldn't help but feel self-conscious.

It seemed as though Draco noticed this since he hastily reached for his belt, undoing the buckle and shoving his pants down, letting his cock spring free. Y/N bit her lip when she saw how hard he was, how hard she made him. Now that he was naked, Draco reached for her hand. He gripped it firmly as he led her towards the bed. Y/N crawled onto it and laid on her back, immediately crossing her legs. Draco tutted as he, too, got on the bed.

“Don’t hide from me, love. You’re beautiful, and I want to see all of you, please." Y/N could tell his words were genuine, so she slowly spread her legs, exposing her bare pussy to him. “Bloody hell, Y/N. I’m so glad I get to be your first.” Y/N felt the urge to close her legs again, his words sending butterflies to her stomach. But instead, she reached up and pulled his face close to hers. They kissed sweetly, softly. Draco was nearly dizzy from the anxiety running through his veins, but her kiss helped calm his nerves. When she pulled away, he inhaled deeply.

“What?” Y/N asked worriedly. Draco shook his head, dismissing her concern.

“Can I...can I touch you?” he asked, his voice cracking. He had been confident when Y/N first came to his room, but now that they were actually about to do the deed, he felt ten times more afraid.

Y/N felt her heart speed up, but she gave him a nod and watched as he positioned himself between her legs. What she wasn’t prepared for was the shock of pleasure when his fingers stroked her labia. “Holy shit,” she breathed shakily. Draco glanced up at her in panic, ceasing his movements. However, when Y/N bucked her hips against him, he continued stroking. He kept his steady motion until he felt his finger brush up against something. Hesitantly, he placed his fingertip on top of it and gently circled it.

“Oh!” Y/N gasped. She closed her eyes and grabbed Draco’s forearm, holding him still. He stopped his finger and, with his other hand, began stroking Y/N’s thigh.

“What’s wrong? Did it hurt?” he asked, feeling panic return. But then Y/N shook her head.

“No, that’s my clit. Do it again, please,” she begged, her muscles tense. Draco did as she asked and began rubbing his finger against and around her clit. He watched in amazement as she bucked her hips and began squirming, soft breaths falling from her lips. Draco switched his finger out for his thumb. While still stimulating Y/N, he slowly slipped his pinkie finger inside her.

“Oh my god,” she whimpered.

“You’re so tight,” Draco told her as he began sliding his pinkie in and out, slowly but steadily prepping her. After a few minutes, he gradually added another. A sharp hiss from Y/N, however, stopped him in his tracks. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?” he asked frantically.

“It hurts-”

“We can stop; it’s okay,” Draco quickly cut in. But Y/N shook her head adamantly.

“No, I want to do this. The pain has already started to fade just...just go slow, okay?” Draco leaned forward and pressed quick kisses all over her face, not stopping until a smile appeared on her lips.

“I’ll go as slow as you want me to darling, I’ve got you,” he assured her as he started rubbing her again. Y/N nodded and bit her lip as the tingly feeling returned. She couldn’t help but roll her hips, wanting more friction. Draco took this as a hint to add another finger, so he slipped his middle digit inside. He had to take a moment to close his eyes when he saw Y/N’s pussy clench around his fingers. “That feels good, love?” he asked.

“It’s starting to. Keep going,” Y/N replied. He heeded her words and slowly began expanding his fingers within her, stretching her out. Y/N continued rolling her hips and breathing heavily. In and out, in and out. When Draco deemed her properly prepared, he withdrew his fingers, causing Y/N to whine. He laughed lightly as he reached towards his nightstand and reached into the drawer. Y/N’s eyes watched as he pulled out a condom and ripped the paper, but just as he was about to roll it on, she grabbed his wrist.

“Let me,” she whispered. Draco had to hold back a moan as she slipped the condom from his hands and placed it on the head of his dick. He gripped the bed sheets and watched his girlfriend gently slide her hand down his cock, bringing the condom with it. Draco thought he might lose himself just from that, but he quickly closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. When he opened them again, he found Y/N laying on the bed again, legs spread. He raised an eyebrow, silently asking if she was ready. She replied by making grabby hands towards him.

Excitedly, Draco grabbed her thighs and pulled her body towards him until her pussy touched his dick. Y/N gasped and, before she could control herself, bucked her hips. “Shit, if you keep doing that, I won’t be able to hold back,” Draco warned. Y/N completely ignored him and proceeded to grind on him, letting her body give in to her urges. Her boyfriend groaned and savored the feeling before pulling away. He then rubbed his fingers against her. “You’re so wet,” he remarked as he used her arousal to lube up his cock. Once he finished, he looked up at Y/N.

“You ready?” he asked, checking in once more just to make sure.

“Yes, please. I want to feel you,” Y/N whined. That was all Draco needed to hear. He aligned the tip of his cock with her entrance and, while taking a deep breath, pushed himself inside, not stopping until all of it was swallowed by her cunt.

“Motherfucker, you’re so big, oh my god,” Y/N cursed, her eyebrows scrunched together as she waited for her body to adjust to his size. Draco gripped her thighs, trying to hold himself back from pulling out and slamming back into her. She felt so good around him. He could feel her walls pulsing against his cock; it was beginning to drive him wild. But then Y/N started wriggling and moaning.

“Move,” she demanded. Draco wasted no time; he pulled his hips back until only his tip was left inside her, then he slowly pushed forwards, groaning as his dick was once again enveloped in her hot pussy. “You feel fucking amazing, Y/N, shit,” he cussed, continuing to fuck into her steadily. Y/N didn’t reply; she felt breathless as he slid in and out of her. And when his hand returned to her clit, she nearly screamed. The room filled with sweet sounds of moans and pants as the couple made love.

“Faster Draco, please,” she begged, reaching for his hand. Draco quickly intertwined his fingers with hers and gripped her tight. He began to pick up his pace, watching as Y/N arched her back and moaned. “I think I’m getting close,” she whimpered. This made Draco go even faster, her words egging him on.

“So tight around me, baby. So fucking good,” Draco babbled, his teeth gritted as he slammed inside her. Y/N lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, allowing him to get a deeper angle into her pussy. She let out little yelps each time his cock hit that spot inside her. She knew her orgasm was approaching. With the way Draco was rubbing her clit and pounding her cunt, there was no way she’d last long.

Draco took notice of Y/N’s desperate moans and clenched fists. “Let go, darling. Cum for me, cum on my cock, baby,” he husked, encouraging her. Y/N shut her eyes and squeezed Draco’s hand as her body jolted, and her orgasm washed over her. The pure blissed-out look on her face sent Draco into a frenzy. He clenched her hand tight and sent a few more sloppy hard thrusts into her before he too reached his high, moaning loudly as he did.

Each of them halted their movements, desperately trying to catch their breaths. Eventually, Draco pulled out and disposed of the condom. Then he flopped down onto the bed beside Y/N, gently pulling her into his arms where he hugged her tight and pressed soft kisses to her nape.

“I love you so much, that was...fucking insane,” he whispered, smiling when he heard her giggle.

“It was way better than I ever could’ve expected. I love you too, Dray. Thank you.”

Y/N turned around in Draco’s embrace and faced him. She reached up and stroked his face, completely enamored by him. Never had she felt so safe, so blissful. There was nobody else she would’ve wanted to lose her virginity to, and she was so glad he had lost his tonight as well. Sure, it was sweaty, awkward, teenage sex. But it was loving and gentle, and most importantly, it was with the love of her life. Sleep soon started to overtake her, and her thumb stopped rubbing Draco’s cheek. But Draco was drifting away too. The couple entered dreamland peacefully, their still sweaty limbs entangled with one another's.

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#draco malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy x yn #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagines #draco #draco malfoy x you #harry potter fanfiction #draco fluff #draco x you #draco smut #draco malfoy smut #draco x reader #draco malfoy fluff

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gummygowon · 3 years

Text

how ateez surprises you on your birthday!

genre: fluff

warnings: none

request: hi!! I don’t know if you still want fluff requests, but if you are, do you think you could write how ateez would surprise you on your birthday? My birthday is soon 💕 hehe

a/n: i am like this close to turning all these reactions into oneshots or drabbles lsjdflsdf but anyways i’m so sorry this took so long! i hope you enjoy!! :)

seonghwa:

i think seonghwa is your classy, romantic, gentlemen boyfriend

which means that he would definitely surprise you after work/school by picking you up and then take you back home for some surprises (not like that weridos)

the first surprise being that your apartment was finally cleaned

countertops sparkling, dishes finally back in cupboards, and not even a speck of dust on your mirrors

“hwa, did you do this?”

you were a working student and lately, your homework load was piling lately which meant less free time >:(

he nodded at you, a bashful smile on his face, “i know you been super busy lately with school and everything so, i wanted to take some weight off your shoulders.”

your heart ached at the sight of him, making you run over to him and place a kiss on cheek, “i love you so much. thank you.”

“wait, there’s more.” seonghwa said as he pulled away, kissing you cheek once more before dragging you to your bedroom.

“there’s more?” you asked, slightly panicking since you were not prepared for anything else after your boyfriend deep cleaned your apartment

“yes there is. now close your eyes.” seonghwa impatiently answered as he placed his hands over your eyes. he was definitely too excited to show you other gifts

once seonghwa had carefully led you to the front of your bed, he removed his hands from your eyes, “surprise!”

you opened your eyes to a somewhat large gift bag and raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend

after taking out the bright tissue paper in the bag, you pulled out a pretty satin dress in your favorite color that looked too expensive and long box that contained an envelope charm god necklace that had a tiny matching gold plate that said “i love you” on the front and on the back, “p.sh”

seonghwa was super pleased with your reactions as he watched the biggest smile on your face form, “do you like it?”

“yes!” you answer before rushing into this arms, “but i don’t know when i’m gonna wear it.” your smile fading just a tad

but do not worry, mr. park got that covered

“well, you could wear it to our dinner reservations at the monarch.”

“no way!” you shout. “you got reservations there?”

the monarch was one of those fancy restaurants with really good food that can you leave day dreaming about it for days and you’ve been dying to try that place out after wooyoung mentioned that place a few months ago

however, it was pretty much booked for the next month so reservations were hard to come across

but seonghwa did some extensive researching and (eavesdropping) to find the perfect place to take you out and reserved literally a month and a half before

“yes, i did. now go get ready princess before we’re late.” seonghwa kissed your forehead before letting you go.

after an hour of you being in the bathroom, you came out looking like an actual model

like godamn

seonghwa thought you were hot without makeup but now-

holy fuck was he speechless

“do i look okay?” you asked nervously, fidgeting with the hem of the dress

“you look more than okay, love. you look absolutely stunning baby.”

“thank you.” you responded back, trying to fight the blush on your cheeks

then seonghwa would escort you down to his car, making sure that nothing got onto your dress

so he would open all the doors you guys passed by and hold them out for you (he does this all the time but this time felt more magical because of your outfit)

you guys eat dinner feeling super grateful for everything hwa was done for you so far plus the food was worth the wait for sure

but by far, your favorite part of your birthday date was when seonghwa took you guys on a walk in a nearby park

pretty lights decorated the trees, lighting up paths for visitors

this added to the whole magical princess vibe which had you skipping

no like, you were literally skipping with happiness as you ventured through the park, smiles painting both of your faces :)

hongjooong:

you met hongjoong while working at the 7/11 below the company when he was a trainee

he was absolutely starstruck when he saw you for the first time behind the counter

a stuttering mess as he payed for his snacks while you had flushed cheeks when his hand grazed yours when you gave his change back

after that hongjoong always made an excuse to come down to see you and start talking to you

then on one late night, he offered to walk you home since he was concerned for your well-being (he always was actually)

you, of course agreed because you wanted another excuse to talk to him more

the walk home was quite enjoyable

no awkward silences or anything

but of course, you forgot your jacket on a chilly, fall night

you were practically shivering as soon as you walked out of the connivence store and it didn’t take hongjoong more than a minute to see you freezing your ass off

“are you cold?”

“no...” you answered stubbornly as you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself

“bullshit.” honjoong laughed as he shrugged his hoodie off and handed it to you. “here.”

you were caught so off guard by his actions that you literally stopped walking, “are you sure?”

“yeah, i’m sure. i don’t want you to get sick”

you took the warm hoodie from him and slipped it on, the sleeves going past your fingertips, “thank you but, won’t you get sick?”

“eh, it’s fine. i like the cold.”

“ok weirdo.”

“give me back my jacket.”

“no!” you yelled at him as you started sprinting towards your house

ever since that night, hongjoong would walk you home after your shift and of course, you would always forgot to bring a jacket

which meant that you would have to reluctantly take his jacket

now fast forward to two years later, you guys started dating!

and this year for your birthday was pretty casual, nothing fancy since you had school and work

which meant that hongjoong would swing by the store when your shift was over and he did

however this walk was different since you guys took a little detour to the park nearby your house so you guys could look at the pretty stars.

then of course, you forgot your jacket again

“you cold?”

“yes.” you sigh in defeat which causes your boyfriend to laugh

“good because then you’ll love my gift then”

and then hongjoong pulls out a gift bag from his backpack which you open a little too quickly

hongjoong gives you a reformed sweatshirt!!!

“do you remember the first night i walked you home?”

you nod your head eagerly as you slip it on, the bright strips of color on the sleeves popping out

“i love it!” you exclaim as you wrap your arms around hongjoong tightly

“you do?” he asks unsure, that you wouldn’t like at all.”

“yes, why wouldn’t i?” you look up at him causing honjoong’s brain to stop working

“i love you.” he spit out, his cheeks flushed and a crooked smile on his face

you giggled at his actions before leaning into kiss him, “i love you too.”

yunho:

ok so being the busy queen/king you are, you hadn’t had the chance to see your boyfriend yet plus you were staying at your parents for the weekend to celebrate your birthday which made it even harder

but nonetheless, you were ecstatic to be home and surrounded by all our family members and a few childhood friends who stayed in your hometown for college or were back for the weekend

it was great since you were able to celebrate your birthday being surrounded by the people you love

but you really missed your boyfriend even though he called you in the morning to wish you a happy birthday and apologize for not being able to make it

it was almost midnight by the time everyone in your house was settled for the night or even sleeping and so you were until you heard a knock coming from your window

you nearly broke your neck because you snapped your sound head so fast to your window

your mind immediately went to “there’s a serial killer outside” mode so you grabbed your hairbrush as a weapon as if that would do any damage

when you pushed back your blinds, you had to keep yourself from screaming because there sat your boyfriend from highschool on the huge ass tree right near your window

“yunho?!@!#@”

“hi.” yunho responded a small smile on his face

it was like a mix of smirk and an embarrassed smile

anyways, yunho somehow convinces you to come outside so you guys can watch the stars

which is exactly what you do

you grab your hoodie (which is actually yunho’s) and an extra blanket as you carefully make your way down the tree

at first, you were scared that your parents were going to scold you for leaving and you were like fuck but you then you remembered you’re an adult so they couldn’t get that mad at you

this reminded you of the few times you would sneak out of the house for yunho which is the only reason why you would ever think about sneaking out

yunho walks you to the nearby park in your neighborhood before laying down his own blanket for you guys to lay on

you’re lowkey shivering so you try to move as close to yunho as you can as he wraps his arm under you

for the first few minutes you guys sit in silence, just watching the stars and tiny planets twinkle in the dark sky

until you start pointing out different constellations which yunho thought was actually so amazing because they all looked like clumps of white dots to him

plus, he found it really cute when you started to get all excited and jumpy talking about the things you were really passionate about

although yunho couldn’t tell the difference between capricorn and the little dipper, he still made a comment about the view

“the moon is beautiful isn’t it?”

you craned your head to look up at him, a smile creeping its way on your face, “yeah, it is.”

yunho smiled back before reaching down to cup your cheek for a kiss

the phrase, “the moon is beautiful isn’t it?” is a more poetic way of saying “i love you.”

yeosang:

i feel like yeosang is a perfectionist

yk the type of bf to make sure everything is done correctly for your dates and especially your birthday

and this year you wanted to do something simple and small because of covid plus you still had work and school to do

tbh if it was just you and yeosang together this year, you wouldn’t mind at all

so going by your wishes, yeosang came up with the brilliant idea to try and bake you a cake since you literally refused to tell him what you want for your birthday (although, he has secretly been taking notes about what you need even if it was just something that you could’ve bought yourself)

ok now, we all seen that video of yeosang trying to cook an egg which turned out horribly so his baking experience with this wasn’t the smoothest

yes, he bought all the correct ingredients and tools needed to bake and decorate a cake but somehow his first cake turned out burnt as hell which led to him going back to the store to buy another cake mix (and an extra just in case he fucks up again)

this time it came out pretty good, the middle wasn’t runny at all the sides weren’t a charcoal black

now all he had to do was frost the godamn cake

which was so fucking hard to do AND FOR NO REASON ISTG

the store bought frosting he bought kept catching cake crumbs in it and the spatula he was using was doing an ass job

yeosang was getting so frustrated with this hellish sugar on sugar thing because he literally watched a fifteen minute video on how to frost cakes for beginners last night

he had all the right tools for it so why wasn’t the cake creating a smooth crumb coat ?????

after he awhile, he abandoned his crash course learning in cake decorating from the night before and started doing his own thing

so after doing a base layer of frosting with your favorite color, he picked out all the crumbs from it which took hours but he didn’t care

and then he started to add the “happy birthday!” on it which went lowkey south since it was actually a lot harder to write with frosting than what yeosang thought

but he still tried his best to fix it so the words weren’t horribly slanted or anything

fortunately, the cake turned out alright for someone who doesn’t decorate cakes for a living

now the hard thing was to get to your apartment without dropping the cake or fucking it up on the way there

so yeosang sat in the back of yunho’s car clutching the sides of the cake platter with his dear life

luckily, the cake made it to your house in one shape and you were so surprised and happy that yeosang came over

you were practically jumping up and down once he put the cake down on your table and clinged onto his arm

after yeosang sang happy birthday to you, you blew out the candles with the biggest grin on your face

“what did you wish for?”

“that’s a secret.” you joked as you swooped some frosting onto your finger and onto his nose

san:

this was probably the first time that san had stayed home in months

it was annoyingly difficult to try and schedule times to see each other but you didn’t mind

he was here now and that’s all that matter

smiling to yourself, you turned over to san’s side expecting there to be your cuddly boyfriend for you to only be met with a cold side

“wtf” you thought, did he get called into practice or something last minute? if he did he would’ve texted you...

which you grabbed your phone immediately to look for any missed calls or texts but there was nothing from san, just the usual spam emails and post notifs from insta

san promised that he was going to be free for the whole weekend for your birthday

promises are meant to be broken, you childishly thought to yourself

sighing, you were about to get out of bed so you can brush your teeth and go celebrate your special day before your door flew open,

“surprise!” your boyfriend shouted into the room

“oh my fuck!” you screamed back, clutching your chest

whatever was in san’s hands tumbled a little bit before he caught his balance again

“you scared me!”

“i’m sorry baby.” san apologized before placing a tray full of your favorite breakfast dishes onto your bedside table

“did you make this?” you asked as you poked around the tray

godamn he actually got all your favorites, your favorite drink, sweets, and your preferred way of cooking eggs

he hummed in response before kissing you on the cheek, “happy birthday, y/n.”

with your heart swelling full of love and a few tears sliding down your face, you thank him

“i love you so much.” you say before you pull him into a tight hug

“i love you more.” san responds kissing your forehead before tugging you onto the bed so you could eat

you sit in san’s lap as you eat and occasionally give him a bite after you hear his stomach grumble

“do you want a bite? or...” you ask after hearing san’s stomach growl louder than the trucks outside your apartment

you turn to look at your boyfriend with a forkfull of pancakes, noticing the faint blush on his cheeks

you watch san struggle to answer your question since he didn’t want to eat your surprise breakfast but boy was he hungry

“yes.” he sighs in defeat making you giggle

mingi:

ok so mingi is a little trickster when it comes to surprises

so for your birthday you come from your day, burnt as hell from working and schoolwork and you really don’t wanna do much

you just feel like taking a shower and going to bed tbh

but however that was not the case

as soon as you came home, mingi sprang up from the couch kissing your forehead, asking how your day was

and then immediately he asked you to dress up nice

but you being grumpy and crabby slightly whined, “why? i think i’m just gonna call in some pizza, min.”

and then he would definitely catch on to the fact that you really did not want to be bothered at the moment but he still pushed you to get ready, “it’s your birthday, that’s why! take a shower and wake up and get dressed up because the place i’m taking you to is a classic.”

you were literally about to throw your bag on the floor and stomp your feet like a child

you loved your boyfriend a lot but it was your birthday so why was mingi calling all the shots???

but you sucked in a breath before mumbling an agreement to getting ready, “this place better be good mingi.”

“oh it is. don’t even worry about it.” your boyfriend would respond, shooing away your comment with a wave of his hand

while you shower and get ready, mingi goes to change in your other bathroom into a super nice tux like ball worthy tux yk

so when you step out of your bathroom with a towel wrapped around your chest about to ask mingi what you should specifically wear, your eyes nearly pop out of your head when you see what he’s wearing

and you’re like fuck i really have to wear something nice he also looks hot as fuck

which leads to you pulling out outfit after outfit to try an figure out what exactly matches your boyfriend’s tux and after some digging you finally found an outfit that screamed “cinderella’s ball”

you step out of your room with a frown on your face because the fatigue was now replaced with irritation and an empty stomach

but mingi is tripping out on the fact that you look so fucking good

like holy fuck

“you look amazing baby.”

your mood would lighten up a little bit but you were still playing the “i’m annoyed” card

so after you guys leave your apartment and are sitting his car driving towards the city and passing by many, many fancy restaurants which is making you wonder where the fuck you guys were going

“mingi, where are we going?”

“you’ll see.” is all he would say making you a little more frustrated

but eventually, mingi stops the car at an arcade that you haven’t been to in ages

“oh my god.” you gasp as you rush out of your seatbelt. “hurry up mingi!”

“now you’re excited?” he would tease you before joining you at the door with his hand in yours

when you guys walk in, everything is the exact same from what you remember as a kid

the same black with colorful confetti carpet, rows of games with the cords in a tangled mess behind the machines, and of course the prize counter looked the exact same except the prizes were much cooler this time (you could win an ipad and a nerf gun!!!)

you were definitely in much better mood now and was pulling mingi left and right to go play games

you guys were both extremely competitive but sometimes mingi would let you win because he loved seeing you get all excited and hyped when you won a game but he do it in a non-discreet way so you wouldn’t catch on

however, when it came to that car racing game (yk with the steering wheel) well he would not hold the tf back on that game and niether would you

he even made a bet with you declaring that whoever loses has to pay for dinner which you gladly accepted because you never lose (a lie has been detected !)

so here you guys were absolutely gaming it out, taking this racing game a little bit too seriously wearing full on red carpet-worthy outfits in an old arcade where little kids were staring at you guys weirdly

niether of you cared, too busy focusing on the game which was currently in a tie and ended with you winning!

fair and square if i may add (mingi had accidentally crashed into a building which ultimately led to his downfall)

so you’re all excited and pumped up because you kicked his ass in that game and you’re walking out the arcade practically skipping because of your mood and you flash mingi a L, “hah! you have to buy me pizza now!”

while mingi is literally sulking with his head down and is walking 0.01 mph, “no fair my game glitched!”

“no excuses, song!”

wooyoung:

since we all know that wooyoung loves to cook, i can safely assume that he would definitely surprise his s/o with their favorite meal for their birthday

like, wooyoung would probably sneak into your house when you left for work/school with his arms full of ingredients

he also come fully prepared with the recipe basically memorized after looking back and forth on it to make sure he bought all the correct ingredients

he knew that you haven’t had the time to see your family in person in awhile because of your upcoming finals and whatnot which meant that you missed your parent’s cooking a lot

it had been a fat minute since you were able to taste a warm cooked meal from your house and how you longed for your parent’s cooking

which is why wooyoung had secretly called your mother for their family recipe which she gladly gave as soon as wooyoung promised to not sell it (family recipes are not something to be passed around lightly)

so while you were at work, wooyoung was getting his iron chief on

preparing ingredients and measuring them to the exact cup or tablespoon

he was extremely nervous to present you his surprise because he was scared it was going to taste wonky

now the only thing left to do was wait for your surprise meal and for you to come home (he cleaned up his mess dw while waiting for you)

by the time you were home, you were slumped and just ready for bed tbh

but all the fatigue left your body once your apartment smelt like your childhood house, you snapped your head towards the kitchen to see wooyoung jump out from the counter

“surprise!”

“oh my god, i thought you were at work!” you rushed to go hug your boyfriend.

“i was but i managed to convince hongjoong to let me leave early.” wooyoung answered before kissing your cheek.

“awww, thank you.” you leaned into him even more before pointing towards the kitchen, “what did you make here, chef linguini?”

wooyoung let go of you and presented the plates that were set up on your counter all fancy like

“i made you dinner!” he exclaimed, his nerves bouncing off the wall which he masked with a bright smile

“is this my parents’ recipe?” you asked, tears forming in your eyes. it really had been a long time since you saw your parents.

“yeah, i asked your mom for it. i know it’s been awhile since you seen them so i decided to bring a little piece of them to you.” he answered sheepishly, one arm scratching his neck as he avoided making eye contact with you

the meal almost tasted exactly the one at home, triggering happy memories to flood your mind as you took another bite

“i hope you know that i plan on marrying you, jung wooyoung.” you half joked before digging into the dish even more

“you like it?” wooyoung asked, his smile lighting the room up even more

“of course i do!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around him, “thank you so much for this. i love it.”

“and i love you.” he smiled back at you before kissing you. “let’s eat before it gets cold, yeah?”

“you don’t have to tell me twice.” you laughed before sliding into a seat, your heart warm and full of love

jongho:

you were absolutely bummed that jongho couldn’t see you for your birthday because he had practice all day and then you had work right after school

however, jongho called you as soon as the clock stroke midnight because he wanted to be the first one to wish you a happy birthday!!! :)

nonetheless, you went through the school day with some of your classmates and a few teachers wishing you a happy birthday and what not

you even got a free cookie from the nice cafeteria lady!

then as soon as school ended you went to work at your local diner as a waitress

there, some of your fellow coworkers wished you a happy birthday as well!

before the rush hour, your closet coworker/best friend asked you why you didn’t just take the day off

you then explained to her how your boyfriend was at work all day and then you didn’t have the time/money to go visit your family in the neighboring city too much schoolwork and train fares were a bitch to cover

your best friend felt sorry for you and promised to take you out after you guys shift was over before a flood of customers came barreling through the door

so while you were at work, jongho was busy convincing honjoong to let him sneak out during their lunch break to see you

“please hyung! i haven’t seen her in person in so long and its her birthday please!”

hongjoong gave him a look saying you gotta do better than that

“i’ll take out the recycling for you for two weeks!” jongho pleaded with his hands together

bingo

“fine i’ll cover for you, but don’t let our manager catch you.”

jongho practically kissed him on both cheeks before sprinting out the door after looking around for his manager.

on his way over to your work, he stopped by a nearby flower shop to buy you some flowers and for him to catch a breath (he was basically running to your workplace before your lunch ended)

now over back to you, the rush had finally ended in time for your lunch break which you super glad for (no more karens up your ass !!!!)

you sat in a table near the back of the diner, pulling out snacks from your bag (you didn’t have much time to pack a full lunch)

you were thoroughly enjoying your snacks while mindlessly scrolling through social media before a loud noise cracked the air causing you to look up from your phone

“jongho?” you asked in disbelief at your boyfriend who was a panting mess. wasn’t he supposed to be at practice still?

“hi.” he smiled up at you after catching his breath. “i convinced hongjoong to let me sneak out of practice so i can surprise you.”

you were so shocked that you couldn’t even form words which led to you jumping out of your seat and wrapping your arms around him

it had been too long since the last time you saw each other

too long

“i missed you.” jongho whispered, wrapping his arms around you too being extra careful to not crush the flowers in his hand.

“i missed you too.” you whispered back, tears forming in your eyes as you hugged him even tighter

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slashingdisneypasta · 3 years

Text

Human!Freddy Krueger x Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Title: What The Fuck Now, Freddy!?

Notes:

This is not inherently romantic, at all. Or sexual. Just... Freddy being a bastard, and you are caught in the crosshairs- and are forever linked with him because of it.

I've been listening to Lizzie, a lot lately- and this is inspired by 'What The Fuck Now, Lizzie!?'

Also- I'm thinking this will have a part 2. Due to the ending not being quite enough. Maybe a part for the court proceedings!

Plot: Many will know the story of that terrible day Krueger essentially snapped- killing his wife, Loretta Krueger. She saw the basement, they say, and he didn't like that. Their daughter saw the whole thing and suffered a traumatic response to seeing the sight of her mother, strangled to death, by her father- and forgot the whole thing.

But if she were to remember something, one day.

She may remember something no one knows about that day, aside from Freddy himself.

She may remember, that someone else was there.

She may remember you.

Alternatively- you're being blackmailed by Freddy who found out you, another supposedly Plain Jane in Loretta's 'mothers club', is cheating on your husband and calls you up to help deal with the mess he made. Because who else did he have?

Warnings: Okay lemme see, its basically a potluck of triggers. Hm. Murder, swearing, cheating (You, on your husband. Not with Freddy), getting rid of a body, a child gets traumatised (Obviously, Kathy/Maggie), Freddy himself, mention of the basement and all that entails, reader with a very questionable moral compass. Look, I think if you can watch Freddy's Dead, you're good here.

I'm just heading out the door, to go grocery shopping - or, at least, that's the story I tell my husband. When really I don't do the grocery shop until the day after tomorrow. He never notices... - when the phone rings. By very nearly tripping over my feet in my endeavour to catch it before the ringing stops, I manage pick up the phone with very little injury besides an achy, slightly twisted ankle. "Hi! Hi, sorry, I'm here. Hello?"

Pouting, I sit down at the kitchen table; Rubbing my poor ankle to sooth the pain, which would soon diminish anyway. Still- I'm sorry, ankle. I'll try to chill.

When the voice on the other end reveals who it is who's called the house, I lose all need to be pleasant. Damn. I really need to memorise this goddamn number... so I can not answer it. "Whatcha wearin'?"

"Thank god Harrison didn't answer this, you fuck." I deeply roll my eyes. Thank god Har's out. No, this is not my mister, not the man I was going to meet just now- but its bad, enough. In an entirely different way. Its stupid, blackmailing, son of a... hundred maniacs. "What do you want?"

"What a way to answer the phone, Y/N. Gee, seems like every time I we talk, I'm learning how you really aren't in the right place, are you? Cheating on your poor husband, swearing... These aren't really signs of the perfect suburban house wife, is it?" Gritting my teeth, I keep from lashing out. I've learned, if you stay real quiet, Freddy wont have anything to pull from and will get bored quick. "Why so silent, hm?"

"... " Oh, fuck me. I cant help it. "Wondering where you get off judging me on being 'suburban', actually."

"Anywhere I like, thanks."

Oh... oh. Gross?

He doesn't see the disgust tearing my face into two perfect halves right now, but my silence must be enough as he laughs. The sound is directly into the phone, and harsh on my poor eardrums. Ugh... "Oh for gods sake... What are we? Fourteen years old?? Come on- why'd you call?"

"Uhhhh... " Quickly, midway through that drawn out 'um' sound, Freddy's voice transitions, and gets a whole lot darker. Something deep in his chest dislodging, to make it so. Perhaps, his heart. "Well... you might wanna come and see for yourself."

"Uh, I don't think so. I have somewhere to be right now- "

"Oh well you don't, anymore." And its clear what he isn't saying- or else I'll tell Harrison about Carter and set your life on fire. "Tell your boy toy you're takin' a reign check for the day. I think you'll last. In fact... after you come over here, you might be out of the game for a couple a hours at least- maybe days."

Hold on, hold on Freddy what the fuck- "What!?"

"... Believe it or not, I didn't actually mean for that one."

Moron.

Nevertheless, no matter how just... off setting, Freddy is, I had to when he asked. I had to jump when he said so.

Because if not, then he would tear my life apart.

So here I am, about to knock on that big red door he lives behind, wondering what I'm walking into. Where's Loretta? Where's Kathy? How long will the visit be? I told Carter I'd be an hour or two late- any longer and I wont see him at all today. Which would absolutely suck.

Just after my knuckles come down on the wood the first time, a hand comes down on my shoulder and I immediately jump out of my skin... then slowly look around.

There's Freddy, a cheeky grin on his face. It does nothing to set my nerves at ease. "Ugh... Why are you out here?"

"We're going to the backyard. Lets go." Taking me by the shoulders, he marches me around the side of the house, instead of through it for some reason, and into the familiar backyard. I've been here numerous times, as Loretta likes to hold our club meetings here - Barbecue's, tea's... that sort of thing. Just to let the kids play together and so the adults can enjoy some adult conversation. Its a nice yard... but depending on what her horrid husband is about to show me, it may not be considered as such anymore... - , but I'm now starting to develop a sick feeling in my stomach.

Honestly- I don't know much about Freddy at all. Yes, I went to school with him, but that doesn't mean much when he was a freaky loner kid the whole time. I remember he killed the class hamster once- that's about the only splash he ever made in the news pool; But it definitely stuck.

Yes, Loretta cleaned up his image a fair bit since getting married, but now he's blackmailing me, and as far as I know I'm now alone with him.

Suspicious of him suddenly, I slip out of his grip with a dirty look flashed his way. Don't touch me.

He just rolls his eyes, leading me around some hedges.

And then everything stops.

Him, me, the air; The air around me, the breeze, the breath in my throat.

There lays Loretta, on the ground. If I was really really naïve, I could imagine she were sleeping... or passed out, at least, due to the way she's sprawled out. No one would lay down like that willingly.

But... her eyes are open.

For a moment I'm tempted to kneel down; Take a closer look. Find out how, myself. Is she bleeding anywhere that I cant see now? Are her lips turning blue? If I moved some short red hair out of the way- would their be marks on her neck yet?

But then I come to my senses...

And freak. The fuck. O u t.

"What, the fuck, did you do!?" I whip around, looking at Freddy now which entirely new eyes. I mean, before I sure wasn't fond- but now I'm filled with something new, looking at him. Something a lot worse, something that makes me want to run. Run, and hide, and stay there.

And all these, even though he hasn't really changed. He still wears a mischievous smirk, stony blue eyes eating up my reactions... like always. But this time its just so so much worse. "Made some dead weight- now you're gonna help me get rid of it. So!" Finally, though its been only a matter of seconds, he turns his gaze off of me and I'm glad. That gaze is far too heavy. "Ideas?"

Only for a moment am I lost for words, struggling to push anything out. "I... I'm sorry??"

His gaze returns to mine, but this time my eyes are hard as his are dark. "Help. Me. Get rid of her. Fucking. Body. Or do you want your dirty laundry aired for the whole community to hear?"

Before I can help myself, I let out a sharp laugh, only succeeding in making Freddy's scowl deeper. "Freddy- this secret's a lot bigger, then mine. Sure, I might get divorced- but you're going to prison!" Does he get that? He's g o i n g to j a i l. Crossing my arms, I try to avoid looking at my ex-friend's body. I cant. "I'm sure as hell not gonna be in there with you, for being an accomplice."

I really cant look at her... I can only focus on Freddy. And that takes a lot of energy- its taking everything in me, in fact. Everything I have. But I have to. If its him or her, there's no choice.

But... then a creepy smile spreads across his face- a vast polarity to the frustrated glower of before. It makes my blood run cold.

"Ohhhh..." He looks almost ferocious, even in his composed state. Like a monster. Like any moment a fanged, inhuman creature is going to burst out of him and I'm going to wake up, and this will have been a nightmare. A horrible nightmare. The kind where that creature haunts me for a long time, after its over. After this over.

He's going to haunt me.

"You must think this is my first time... " My heart turns to ice, mouth hanging a little open... what the fuck have I found myself a part of!? Suddenly all the children's disappearances on the news lately come to the forefront of my brain... "Sweetheart, give a man his dues. I'm a hard working kinda guy... " I watch his gaze flicker to a door - the back door? No... The basement door, - and when a filthy smirk pulls at his mouth, my heart flies up into my throat. God, it makes me feel sick. I want to be violently ill. "My first was my adoptive Dad... pretty sick, huh?"

The fact that he didn't say anything about the basement, makes my imagination go wild. I swallow it down, though.

I just need to get out of here, and never think about this again.

And to do that I need to help Freddy get rid of this goddamn body- and... probably... testify at court... As the panic starts to finally rise up in my, right up to fill my throat, I immediately take in a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Okay... " No time to freak out. Now's the time for action.

Gaze flickering to Loretta again, I try to acclimatise to the sight. I think its a lost cause, though. "How did you get rid of him? Your Dad?"

"No, that's not gonna work. He was a drunk dead beat, and I just had to tell the police some guy's he owed money to came over to the house." Freddy grins happily at the memory, but then just as quickly, scowls at his poor deceased wife's body- that certainly cant fight back. I just tack this onto the long list of reasons I hate him. "Lore's such a goddamn goody goody- we cant do the same thing. You don't think I woulda thought of that??"

"Hey." I snap, hands braced on my hips as I flash a glare his way. "This is not the time to get defensive!"

"Whatever... "

Then- suddenly, something occurs to me. Confused, I look around; A deeply horrified feeling disturbing my stomach. "Hold on... Where's your daughter?" Seeing no sign of her anywhere, I definitely start to panic again- especially when I look to Freddy and just see a pert look in his eyes as he looks back at me, a smile that strikes something horrid inside me. My eyes narrow. "You sick fuck- where the fuck is she!??"

"Under the bed."

"What the fuck does that mean!?" I exclaim, frustrated and freaking out. He did not- he did not! Killing your spouse is one thing, but the kid?? Your own kid??

I don't wait around for him to be cryptic some more, and rush right into the house to look for her. Under the bed, under the bed, under the fucking bed...? Which fucking bed!? Forcing ferocity out of my voice, I carefully call out to Kathy. Hoping to god she answers. I try to sound normal. Maybe a little bit cheerful; Excited.

But my voice wobbles.

"Kathy?? Sweetheart, its Y/N! Are you hiding? I have something for you... " ?? You have something for her, Y/N?? God... now you have to figure out some kind of treat.

You know what? Whatever. We'll figure that out later.

Lets just hope we aren't searching for a corpse. I'd definitely be sick, seeing a child... the way Loretta is...

Shaking my head and clenching my fists, I try to focus on Kathy.

I check under the bed in the guest room because it comes into view first and she isn't there, then her bedroom and she isn't there either... and get a sick feeling as soon as I enter the last bedroom. Freddy's and Loretta's.

God, I've never been in here before but its like a museum peace now. A horrible one. Like if you would walk into the Titanic... or the Borden house.

"Kathy? You in here?" Flicking on the light I kneel down on the ground, and check under the bed.

And something immediately crashes over me, as the sight of her covering her eyes down there. It isn't exactly relief, because this whole situation is still phenomenally fucked up for her, but I am selfishly glad to not have to see her body... crumpled, just like her mother.

"Hey sweetheart," My voice quivers slightly now, but I quickly swallow. No. No. Now, you must be strong Y/N. "Its just me. Your Daddy was looking for you, and couldn't find you! It got him worried!"

"I... I don't wanna see Daddy. He hurt Mommy." Kathy doesn't remove her hands from her face, and stays firmly by the wall- too far away for anyone to grab. My heart sinks.

Slowly straightening up again, I try to take that piece of information in. Turning to the doorway, I see Freddy there. he must have followed me. I didn't even notice. Slowly, and quietly ferociously, I say; "She saw?!"

He has the good sense to look embarrassed, even if it is just to make fun of me. "It was spur of the moment... " He shrugs. "I didn't have time to get a babysitter!"

What a fucking excuse. For gods sake.

I'm definitely dealing with a psycho- if that was even a question before now.

Swiftly, I look down under the bed again, because I'm afraid that if I continue to engage with him- I'll scream, and I'll lose my breath, and I'll scare Kathy even more. She's at the forefront of my mind; That's all I can think about.

But what to do with her after I get her out from under this bed, I don't know. I cant give her back to her father... but I cant hand her over to the police either because that would involve telling them about Loretta, and... Freddy will definitely kill me, for that.

This is a nightmare of a situation.

I'm just opening my mouth to say something - what, I don't know yet, - when she speaks, instead. "Is he there?"

"... Yes." I wont lie to her; That would be treating her with not nearly as much respect as she deserves.

When she takes a deep breath and rubs her eyes, as if just trying to keep herself together, my heart clenches. God... and to think I might not have picks up Freddy's call today. I would have been leaving her with this. For the first time today, I'm morbidly glad I came.

She speaks in that loud, hissy way that kids think is a whisper. "Can he... can you please make him go away?"

Immediately I straighten back up and look to Freddy again, my eyebrows raised halfway up my forehead. Like well? "Get out."

"I don't think you're in a position to make demands here, bi- "

"Do you want Kathy to live down there now!??" I snap, trying not to be scared. Not really feeling scared, actually. Just happy to have a reason to tell him to get the hell away from me.

A deep frown creases his mouth, deeply unhappy about the situation, but steps back. I only hear him step out of the way of the door, but its good enough. Quickly, I get up and close the door - fighting with myself not to slam it, - and lock it.

Then I return to the floor, and see this time Kathy has uncovered her eyes. She looks so small, smaller then she actually is, and she looks like she's shaking. Little red bows and piggy tails in her hair are messy from crawling under the bed. "He's gone, sweetheart. And I locked the door."

She just nods, so I take the silence as a chance to offer my hand to her. "Take my hand, sweetie? Come on out from under the bed. Its cold down there, and no one wants you getting sick." I need to upkeep the family friend bit, I need to sound caring and collected. I need her to trust me.

Her big eyes, not Loretta's colour or Freddy's, look nervous as hell. And she shakes her head.

Taking a deep breath, and I conjure all the sincerity as I can. And mean it. My eyes soften and I try really hard, to resent myself as someone trustworthy- which is hard, seeing as I've never really been that. I mean, I'm cheating on my husband. I told Carter today the same lie I told Harrison when i knew I was going to be late. The only person I think who knows the truth behind all my lies is Freddy. That says something about a person, that the only person who knows them is a psychopath.

But I want to, I need to, be good for this little girl. And there's no time for me turn my life around so it has to start with this. How fucked is that?

"... I promise, I'll take care of you. He wont hurt you."

After a few whole minutes, in which I stay silent because yes she's a child, but she's still thinking, she crawls over and takes my hand, letting me lead her out. Crawling into my lap as I cross my legs under her, she buries her face in my shirt- hiding. "You promise?"

Taking a deep breath, because I've really done it now, I offer my pinky for her to see if she turned her head. I know Freddy's listening to all of this through the wall, but I try not to freak out. "Pinky swear?"

"Pinky swear." She peaks out from my shirt, and curls her little finger around mine. Okay... "Y/N... I'm scared."

"Yeah... Me too, sweetie."

What am I going to do?

#Freddy Krueger x Fem!Reader #Freddy Krueger x Reader #Slashers #Slashers x Reader #Fem Reader #Freddy Krueger #Loretta Krueger #Katherine Krueger #Kathrine Krueger #Maggie Burroughs #Oneshot #Freddy Krueger x Reader Oneshot

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